I Guess You Guys Didn't Like It...

     I guess you-my dear devoted, loving readers- didn't enjoy my video.  I only got NINE pageviews.  I usually get at least twenty.  That hurt.  I thought for certain that you all would enjoy it, but alas twas not to be.  I'll never do it, EVER.  Never ever ever.  Not in a million years will I make you all another video.  Even when I thought I was hilarious. Hmph.  I must give the people what they want right?  That's democracy for you. 
     I hate politics so lets take a different turn in the conversation.
     I would like to hear from you.  Tell me what you think-not politics related-, I suggest you take this chance because usually I'm not open for it.  I don't even reply to comments.  Not that I don't LOVE getting comments.  I do, I really really do enjoy getting comments.  I usually just don't know what to say in reply.




I can't believe I didn't even get one comment on my video. Sigh.

Romeo and Juliet: VIDEO!

     Today I felt like a video.  A video about Romeo and Juliet.  Enjoy!

     1.  This is pretty rough, I have no idea how to edit.
     2.  I wouldn't want to edit it or redo it though because I think it's funny just the way it is.
     3.  I say stupid a lot since I'm speaking and not typing so I'm not using the first words that come to mind.
     4.  If you're wondering why I didn't vary my word choices it's because what I am saying in this video are my thoughts at the time of it.  No previous for thought as you can tell by how unprepared I am.
     5.  I'm sorry that this is so long, but it's my first.  I'll make the next one short.

Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt.

     I had no idea that this book existed until my English gave an excerpt of it as a last minute assignment the other day.  It's a memoir of the life of Frank McCourt, a boy born in the U.S. who moved to Ireland with his family after the death of a younger sibling.  While there he lived in serious poverty and under the command of an alcoholic father who disappeared days at a time and then eventually went away all together.
     He developed Typhoid fever- this was decades ago, I'm not entirely sure of the time line-and was put into a ward with another girl who was in for different reasons.  They were banned from speaking to each other because different disease victims weren't allowed to intermingle.  But really, what were they suppose to do when they're left to themselves all day?  I thing nuns are just evil.

     Mr. McCourt writes as if he's talking directly to you, not in a typical writing fashion.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 4 of the book, enjoy:

First Communion day is the happiest day of your life because of The Collection and James Cagney at the Lyric Cinema. The night before I was so excited I couldn't sleep till dawn. I'd still be sleeping if my grandmother hadn't come banging at the door.

Get up! Get up! Get that child outa the bed. Happiest day of his life an' him snorin' above in the bed.

I ran to the kitchen. Take off that shirt, she said. I took off the shirt and she pushed me into a tin tub of icy cold water. My mother scrubbed me, my grandmother scrubbed me. I was raw, I was red.

They dried me. They dressed me in my black velvet First Communion suit with the white frilly shirt, the short pants, the white stockings, the black patent leather shoes. Around my arm they tied a white satin bow and on my lapel they pinned the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a picture with blood dripping from it, flames erupting all around it and on top a nasty-looking crown of thorns.

Come here till I comb your hair, said Grandma. Look at that mop, it won't lie down. You didn't get that hair from my side of the family. That's that North of Ireland hair you got from your father. That's the kind of hair you see on Presbyterians. If your mother had married a proper decent Limerick man you wouldn't have this standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair.

She spat twice on my head.
Grandma, will you please stop spitting on my head.
If you have anything to say, shut up. A little spit won't kill you. Come on, we'll be late for the Mass.

We ran to the church. My mother panted along behind with Michael in her arms. We arrived at the church just in time to see the last of the boys leaving the altar rail where the priest stood with the chalice and the host, glaring at me. Then he placed on my tongue the wafer, the body and blood of Jesus. At last, at last.

It's on my tongue. I draw it back.
It stuck.
I had God glued to the roof of my mouth. I could hear the master's voice, Don't let that host touch your teeth for if you bite God in two you'll roast in hell for eternity. I tried to get God down with my tongue but the priest hissed at me, Stop that clucking and get back to your seat. God was good. He melted and I swallowed Him and now, at last, I was a member of the True Church, an official sinner.

When the Mass ended there they were at the door of the church, my mother with Michael in her arms, my grandmother. They each hugged me to their bosoms. They each told me it was the happiest day of my life. They each cried all over my head and after my grandmother's contribution that morning my head was a swamp.

Mam, can I go now and make The Collection?
She said, After you have a little breakfast.
No, said Grandma. You're not making no collection till you have a proper First Communion breakfast at my house. Come on.

We followed her. She banged pots and rattled pans and complained that the whole world expected her to be at their beck and call. I ate the egg, I ate the sausage, and when I reached for more sugar for my tea she slapped my hand away.

Go easy with that sugar. Is it a millionaire you think I am? An American? Is it bedecked in glitterin' jewelry you think I am? Smothered in fancy furs?

The food churned in my stomach. I gagged. I ran to her backyard and threw it all up. Out she came.

Look at what he did. Thrun up his First Communion breakfast. Thrun up the body and blood of Jesus. I have God in me backyard. What am I goin' to do? I'll take him to the Jesuits for they know the sins of the Pope himself.

She dragged me through the streets of Limerick. She told the neighbors and passing strangers about God in her backyard. She pushed me into the confession box.

May the Bridges I Burn Light the Way.

It's quote day here on Longstory Isle!  So here a few of my favorite quotes:

I've Been Busy.

     In case you're wondering (and I know you are because I'm just that interesting) why I've been quiet for the past few days it's because I have been rather busy.

1. I had a track meet Friday, so I was pretty busy all Friday evening helping at the start/finish line and running.  Well not really running.  I only run two events and one of them got canceled because of all the rain.  I hate rain.  So so much.  And so I only ran one race, which happened to be the very last one.  but hey!  We got second in the 4x4! (Which is the race I ran with three other teammates)  The boys and girls team also got FIRST OVER ALL!!!

2.  I went a friends house on Saturday and I didn't bring my laptop.

3.  I went to see The Lorax and spent eighty-one dollars at the bookstore. :3  I love the bookstore.  I swear, if they hadn't replaced the coffee place with a yogurt place I could live there.  The eighty-one dollars I spent isn't as bad as the one hundred and fifty I spent once before that. Be proud of me, I restrained myself.

How Much Do You Spend On Your Animals?

     Frankly, I don't care how much you spend on your animal.  That question just had something to do with the prompt I had to write for the Westest.  I had to write about how much people spend on their animals and explain why I think they do it.
     To say the least, I pointed out how ridiculous that prompt was multiple times in the essay while simultaneously writing about the actually prompt.  You see, I answered it, but I insulted it at the same time.  It takes a true genius to do that. ;3

My English Class.

   In my English class my teacher is preparing us for the God awful Writing Assessment- part of the big state test.  That means that we have to write A LOT of 5x5 essay's and not only in English class.  They assign you a prompt, which is usually stupid, and you have to write a five paragraph and five sentences in each.
      I won't do it.  Write about the school dress code you say?  Describe an animal you say?  Write about your best friend you say?  Write about nanananananananananana you say?  NO.  And then we're suppose to make those charts that "help" organize your essay because apparently EVERYONE does it.  It apparently IS SO HELPFUL that I can't even understand the amount of help it's providing.
     WRONG.  I won't do it.  If I have to write a 5x5 I'll write about whatever I damn well please.  I'm the one writing it, not you.  The Writing Assessment already has idiot prompts, I don't need to write anymore that I have to.  The charts, we don't even are allowed to use a chart while taking it.  I can't even do the blasted chart to describe an animal.  So, I just use the chart to point out the faults of the chart and then I write an essay about whatever I feel like it.  Today I was suppose to write one about motivation, I wrote about some guy who's going to die instead.  Cheery right? 

    For the love of Cheeses, please let this be over with soon.