I have spent the weekend luxouriously stretched out on the sliky sands of the beach.

I am so sunburned - the difference of my skin now versus last September is mind-blowing. I saw my picture in the year book and I look like I've just been blood let by a cruel medieval barber. My hair is also a dark brown and I seem to be glaring or scowling at the camera man in a way that universally implies I wished to do nothing more than disembowl him and stand over his torn and bloody body, hands raised, baying at the moon.

I never liked getting my picture taken.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the rediculous, frivolous problems in my life that I've composed an all-emcompasing list of things to be thankful for (Which will, of course, exclude the painfully obvious things such as I have a pleasant air conditioned home and don't have to hunt for gazelles to eat in the sizzling African savannah):

1. I am not morbidly obese, nor am I breathtakingly ugly.
2. I may not have a car, but I do have friends with cars. Which is almost as good. Yes it is.
3. I don't live in Kansas or similar land locked state where the ocean is similar to the title of a George Clooney movie
4. I own Buffy seasons 1-4 on DVD
5. If the human race is destroyed by a killer virus that turns the residents into zombies, and Keanu Reeves and I were the last people alive, we would be forced to repopulate the earth

Ok, that last one wasn't exactly something to be thankful for, but it is an encouraging thought.

I just finished an insane new LOTR fanfiction that spiralled out of control. It is the weirdest thing I have ever written, and that is saying something.

It can be found here. Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam must save Middle Earth from the terrors of fine dining and fancy French food.

My sister and I created a quiz today. She insisted she make up the questions, and it was my responsibility to bridle her bountiful intellect because I delicately felt that perhaps the world is not ready for her perculiar brand of questioning. One of the questions that was left on the cutting-room floor was 'What would you do if you met a three-eyed mongoose?'.

Honestly.

At any rate, the quiz can be found here.


By the way, cats like mexican food. Don't ask me how I know.

Please.

Warning

This rant contains MAJOR spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. If you have not finished said book, or are anxiously awaiting to read it, do not, I repeat, do not, look below.

Thank you.

Ahhh! How could J.K. Rowling kill him? How could she?? I know Madame Rowling is a literary goddess, a cruel, cruel Greek goddess who turns men into chestnuts with teeth when she is scorned, but a goddess nonetheless. But how??

My love, Sirius Black! I loved him wih all of the gentle longings of my soul! I cried for twenty minutes when he fell beneath the curtain, O the EBONY CURTAIN OF UNYEILDING DEATH!!!!

No.

No, he is not dead.

He simply was playing a joke and popped out from behind the curtain five minutes after everyone left the Department of Mysteries and, surprised no one was there, went back to Number 12, Grimmauld Place and took a little nap. Yes. Exactly. He is not dead.

Denial is good.

Finals sucked. Sucked like an anteater at a breakfast buffet ant hill. At their completetion I reclined, gasping, in my chair as words formed in the tiny puffs of breath whistling through my parched lips. "I'm.....alive." I whispered in joyful amazement.

And so I was.

As the end of one thing always marks the beginning of another, the glorious finish of finals engendered the start of summer. Ah, summer, your rolling hills of jade, the empty wilderness of the sea!

I spent my first day asleep. The second day I roused myself at around 11:30 to eat some breakfast before falling back asleep. Here, in fact, is my Normal Day :

Wake up at 11:00-11:30. Shove in a bagel or other assorted breakfast foodstuff by 12:00. Perhaps watch a bit of TV, maybe pick up a good book, or just lounge around lazily until 2:00. Go in the pool from 2:00-3:00. Take a shower, comb out my hair, get dressed. Eat lunch at 4:00. Clean up lunch by 5:00. Father gets home at 6:00. You see? Completely relaxing and non-strenuous. I love it.

That is, until it was disturbed by The Dreaded Grandmother.

Now, as my 'summer job' I was appointed with the unhappy task of watching my nine year old sister who, since she is the unargued Queen of the World, refused to go to summer camp. I desperately tried to convince her and my parents, but it was futile. So, my grandmother who, apparently, was appointed this responsibility by my father, decided to pay us a visit in our "decrepit loneliness". She called us the night before and announced her arrival would be 10:00 the next morning. "But grandma," I said urgently, "we're not awake until-" CLICK. I sighed. Alas, I love her dearly, but please, please, let us sleep.

Yesterday it was pouring rain, and my friends called me and asked if I wanted to come over. I live about a mile away from them, and, as I have no car, I was therefore forced to walk a mile with a small black umbrella as my only solace. I was S.O.A. (soaked on arrival) and we all abandoned the unbrellas and tottered around in the half-flooded streets while singing and kicking water from puddles at each other. It was fun. = )

Now, after The Maher Incident, you would think relations were strained between Dane and I. No, not at all. We had always been friends, and the same holds true, except now he enjoys whispering 'seat stealer' in an impatiently annoying voice whenever we pass each other in the hallway.

Speaking of my dear Dane, a very interesting thing happened on the bus.....

It was pouring rain, as if God had decided to vent his fury by drowning us all, ala Noah's Ark. Because of this oppulent flood of water, all of the windows on the bus were sealed tightly shut, and the combined body heat of about thirty occupants added to the sticky humidity caused all of the glass to fog and the driver barely able to see out the windshield. Suffice to say, the bus was indescribably uncomfortable, and we shifted in our seats with a soft moan. Dane was sitting behind me for the sole purpose of hissing 'seat stealer' into my ear every now and again, and I turned around with a horrific glare. He merely laughed and we began to discuss what we were going to do for summer vacation, and he said he was already lounging by the poolside every afternoon. In fact, he boasted, he had a terrible sun burn from stupidly falling asleep in direct sunlight. Rolling up his shirt, you could see the dangerous shiny redness that was slowly peeling away. It was so raw that it barely had the texture of skin, he said with a touch of pride. I reached out to touch it at his invitation and - KABOOM!!! It was the loudest clap of thunder I have ever heard in my life, accompanied by a more than threatening flash of lightning. Right when I was about to touch him.

Coincidence?

I think not.