Yo Shizzle My Nizzle Dawg.

I'm so uncool.  In my history class, the girl next to me was freaking out about the fact that there was a kind of pepper that was classified as "negro pepper", and I had to explain to her that the Spanish word for "black" is "negro" and it was around a lot longer than slavery in the U.S. when it was used as a derogatory term for African slaves.

She replied with, "Yeah, but I wasn't born back then."







 Bitch, it's not all about you.

I also impressed a bunch of people at a party with the word "floccinaucinihilipilification".  And by "impressed" I mean "bored to death".

So remember that badness that I was feeling in the last post? Well, it's gone now. No more melancholy. Wheee!

Raechelle's in West Virginia. On the car on the way to drop her off at the airport, there was a big-ass moth in the car and it fluttered its nasty little scaly wings all over the left side of my face before I went all ninja on its ass and curled up into the smallest shape I could manage while squealing like a mouse droid. We lost it in the dark until it flew onto my leg and I swatted it and it fell on the floor. We turned the light on and found it twitching on the floor, which freaked me out because it was right on the floor where my feet were. Raechelle picked it up (cue sound of terrified disbelief) and threw it out the window. For the rest of the car ride, I was hypersensitive and was swatting and scratching at my skin where nothing was. I think that qualifies as a phobia of insect-like creatures with scaly, leathery wings. Especially moths, and, coming in second, butterflies. Not just them, either. Bees have that same effect on me. I don't know why. And for some odd reason, I think bats are freaking ADORABLE.

Awwwwww.

I'm trying to get my parents back into music, too. We had a little jamming session last night before we took Raechelle to the airport. We're also getting together with a drummer and a bassist on the 19th to jam some more. Like pros. Yeah.

Last but not least, I got on the waiting list! As of right now you are reading the blog post of someone who is #9 on the waiting list to go to a real high school. I congratulate myself.

Anyways, I need to go before people show up at my house and my sandwich gets soggy.

See ya!