Oh hey! It’s me, Daisy! Did you forget who I was? I know, I know, I haven’t blogged since Monday. But there’s been stuff going on. Stuff like, you know, the time change.
The time change has always confused me. It sort of reminds me of Dragon Tales. Have you ever watched that show? ‘Cause it’s totally awesome. Anyway. It reminds me of how whenever Max and Emmy go into Dragonland (was that what it was called? Dragonland?), no time would pass in the real world. They’d like, come back, and their mom would be all, “Max! Emmy! It’s time for soccer practice!” or whatever, and they’d be all, “YES! I can play with dragons and make it back in time for soccer practice.” Sometimes I wish I lived in Dragonland.
Anywhoooo. I’m reading this frakking hilarious story from the fifties called Fifteen by Beverly Cleary, and let me tell you, this is some funny crap. Here’s the passage written on the back:
“Stan hesitated. ‘I know this is probaly sort of sudden,’ he said. ‘But I was wondering if you would care to go to the movies with me tomorrow night.’
“Jane fought to keep her voice calm. She couldn’t be tied to her mother’s apron strings forever, could she? She had a right to accept a date with a perfectly nice boy. Besides, she was practically sixteen, wasn’t she?
“‘I would love to go,’ said Jane.
“So begins a new phase of Jane’s life-filled with the breathless excitement and shattering ups and downs that come to every girl’s young heart.”
*teeeheeeheeeheee* I don’t know why this book is so hilarious, but it is. The entire second page is pretty much Jane wishing she could wear cashmere sweaters as effortlessly as Marcy, a girl from her school who goes on dates with boys and has a boyfriend who drives a car.
I am so easily amused.
In other news, the season finale of Archer, the only show I watch aside from Battlestar and Caprica, is airing this week, which is saddening. I hope it comes back for a second season, because this show makes me laugh so hard I have to pee.
So nothing much is new with me. A few months ago, Thea and Gus and I decided to get together a group of our friends (Lila, Ruth, Thea H., and Emily; not opposed to other people, just it’s a group that we usually hang out with) and make short film versions of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, so I started fiddling with some scripts. This is so happening. It’s not part of Script Frenzy, though. That’s next month, and I have absolutely no idea what I’m writing for that. Ideas?
Anyway. Tonight, Mum and I are planning on playing the Wii Fit together (because if there’s one thing I love, it’s watching my mother flap like a chicken while balanced precariously on a white slab of plastic) and watching The Woman King, which is the one episode of Battlestar she’s never ever watched, which is a shame, because it’s a good episode and it has three of her favorite plot points: 1. Medical mysteries, 2. Murder, and 3. Shirtless and honorable Karl Agathon. I’m excited!
I was just trying to help Thea understand that one day robots will rebel and kill us all and so she didn’t have to worry about Miles being a jerk to her, but she totally didn’t understand, and it sounded like I was some kind of paranoid “Jesus-will-save-us-all-and-there-will-be-a-reckoning-and-the-bad-people-will-get-sent-straight-to-hell” people (who, for the record, I am not dissing), so one fail point for me. XD Also, a while ago, she made this penny castle:
and Miles was making fun of her for it, and I told her that in the Nuclear Zombie Holocaust she should take it with her everywhere because it’s a bonking weapon and also she could just break off a chunk of it like a frakking slab of Ramen and use it for money. Would currency even exist in the Nuclear Zombie Holocaust? I don’t know, and I don’t think I’ll have to because I’ll be holed up in my basement with all of my friends including Cryssy from St. Louis who’ll have to fly out in a plane full of zombies, but she’ll make it ’cause she’s awesome, and we’ll all be drinking Gatorade and slurping canned soup and having a grand frakking zombieless time. So the moral? Thea should still bring that when she comes to live in my basement because you never freaking know.
Awesome: geekytattoos.com There’s a couple in there who got Kara and Sam’s matching arm tattoos, which is totally awesome except I’m pretty sure that would doom any relationship.
Unawesome: The fact that my feet are sort of asleep.
P.S. Oh, crap. My title kind of makes it sound like anyone can stay in my basement, which isn’t true. I have to have valid proof that you’re a human and not a zombie infiltrator.
P.P.S. Dear Girl-Who-Commented-On-My-Chapstick-Post-Way-Back-When: You can totally come and stay in my basement during the Nuclear Zombie Holocaust. We can sit down and have a nice chat and I can figure out exactly how intoxicated you were when you commented.
Oddment! Tweak! 
Aw, man, where do I even start with this masterpiece of yours?
Let’s see. First of all, being able to play with dragons *and* be at soccer practice in time is Living the Life, mija. It doesn’t get any better than that, and Max and Emmy, those lucky little bastards, they had it figured out before you and I were reading Shakespeare. Fuggers.
Second, I categorically deny ever standing on a slab of white plastic and vigorously flapping my arms. Okay, except last night. Because right now I feel like I’ve been punched in the deltoids over and over and over and over. That said, the exquisite pleasure of being a chicken flying over the ocean . . . O joy! I can still feel the spray of salt, the mastery of land and sea!
But I digress.
–and actually, now that a few hours have passed since I first started writing this, and it’s late and I’m really tired, I’m going to come back to finish. Let me finish! Anyway, you are seriously, wonderfully funny, Pony!–
I know. I *so* want to be able to play with dragons. Haha. Fuggers. It’s awesome that you can make references to John Green books.
You are a mighty fine chicken, Pony. Mighty fine and laser-strong.