tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13972598749276005072024-03-13T10:00:55.443-04:00beastosaurKaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-15745503501904718782014-02-26T18:53:00.001-05:002014-02-26T18:53:32.676-05:00Some Friendly Advice About Bed MonstersDon't feed the monster who lives under your bed.<br />
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If you feed the monster who lives under your bed, it will grow bigger until it doesn't fit anymore. Then your bed will be topsy turvy.<br />
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When your bed is topsy turvy, you won't sleep well.</div>
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When you don't sleep well, you will become grumpy.</div>
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When you're grumpy, you will be less polite to the monster, and it will become grumpy as well. </div>
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When the monster is grumpy, it will eat you out of spite.<br />
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But at least monster stomachs have free WiFi.</div>
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And that's all that really matters in the end, right?<br />
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Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-32526006927911585142013-10-02T13:10:00.000-04:002013-10-02T13:25:08.863-04:00Italy is Wonderful but Confusing.As of today, I have been in Italy for two weeks and two days! Hooray!<br />
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Since this is my first real international trip (I went to Canada one day about a year ago), of course I freaked out.<br />
On a large scale, things are the same. There are still toilets, showers, restaurants, schools, roads, cars, and all of that everyday stuff.<br />
But on a small scale, everything--EVERYTHING--is different.<br />
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Here are a few things that have confused, and occasionally, downright bewildered me:<br />
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1) Light switches. Instead of your typical up-and-down switch, these switches come in sets of 3, and usually there is a trick switch or two that doesn't move. And the switches are black.<br />
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This is the least confusing thing.<br />
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2) Bathrooms. There are mixed-gender bathrooms. When you walk in the bathroom, there is a men's stall, and a women's stall. Five-year-old me would describe it, "You can hear boys tinkle and poopy! Hee hee hee!" And then everyone shares sinks, mirrors, and hand-dryers. (But the stalls are more private. The doors and walls go from floor to ceiling, so there's no awkward view of other people's feet, thank goodness.)<br />
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3) Elevator buttons. I'm used to having two buttons: an up button and a down button, and you push the direction you want to go. But here, there's just a button that basically says in Italian, "take elevator." And then two little up and down lights beside the button (that look deceptively like buttons) turn on when the elevator is moving.<br />
Of course, on my first day, I stood there and pushed on the up light repeatedly, thinking, "This doesn't feel very buttony."<br />
Then a security guard came and rescued me.<br />
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4) Our washing machine. It's all in Italian, so that's a bit confusing, but it's also decrepit. I think it confuses me more with its decrepitness than its foreignness, because it's a pretty basic washing machine. From probably the 70s. (This really has nothing to do with Italian ways of life. I just hate our washing machine. One day it kept spinning my laundry on and off for three hours until I unplugged it and tugged the door open. I hate it.)<br />
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5) Automatic doors and gates. Sometimes, to go through an automatic door, you have to push a button before the door will open. I won't admit how many times I've stood in front of a door waiting for it to open. I also won't admit how long I've waited sometimes.<br />
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But today's bit of automatic door/gate confusion was the most embarrassing. I went to the grocery store and picked up a basket. There's a little gate that lets you into the grocery area. I thought if I just kept walking it would swing open and swing back into place. But instead, I smashed into it and it didn't budge an inch.<br />
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Right in front of a bunch of old ladies doing their shopping.<br />
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Then I backed up and looked around for a button to open it. There was no button. Then it opened automatically. I think one of the grocery store clerks controls the gate. I didn't look to see if that's true, because I'm tired of Italians looking at me like I'm completely stupid.<br />
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But <span style="text-align: center;">I do love it here, and in my next post I will let you know how much, but for now, I thought I'd explain how confused I've been the last couple weeks. Culture shock is an expansive experience. But it's getting better. I'm having fewer moronic moments every day, and it feels nice.</span>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-10592772648229389582013-08-26T15:09:00.000-04:002013-10-02T13:27:24.006-04:00Guess What!?! (also, some dogs)I chopped all my hair off (again)!<br />
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But more importantly:<br />
On September 15, I'm going to jump in a plane or three and fly to Milan, Italy! Awesome, right? I get to go study abroad this fall semester.<br />
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So while I'm there, this blog may change around a bit and be more normal than... well, normal. It'll be like most people's travel blogs, where I'm all<br />
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and<br />
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and<br />
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Be prepared for some touristy ravings.<br />
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But then again, I may have some interesting adventures that are silly-illustration-worthy.<br />
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For example, what if a crazy old Italian man waves an eel in front of my face on a train?<br />
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Or something like that.<br />
We'll see.<br />
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On a completely unrelated note, I've been living with two little dogs all summer, Max and Buddy.<br />
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Max is a Chihuahua-Daschund mix. He looks like a big chihuahua with slightly floppy ears.<br />
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He likes to throw up on my bed.<br />
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Buddy is a little pomeranian or something. He reminds me of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUnix9VZ4Ds" target="_blank">this guy</a>. He's very old and entirely senile. He can't remember who or what he is anymore, so he sits, stares at me, and whines.<br />
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That's all for now.<br />
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ITALY!<br />
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-58332103909905345692013-07-26T15:08:00.002-04:002013-07-26T15:10:11.463-04:00Driving Under the Influence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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But not much else.</div>
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Don't drive under the influence of other things or you will die or accidentally kill other people. Or both.</div>
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But chocolate milkshakes are okay.</div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-83515699659095008912013-06-10T20:43:00.002-04:002013-06-10T20:43:58.933-04:00I drew a picture while I was bored on an airplane.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Poor nimbus cloud. :(</div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-73880711281598531472013-03-08T00:38:00.004-05:002013-03-08T00:38:28.101-05:00ButtonsI have a button collection. It isn't very big. In fact, all my buttons fit in one mason jar.<br />
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Lately, I've been thinking about learning to use a sewing machine so I can make bizarre stuffed creatures (maybe even a bearnicorn).<br />
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Anyway, I started thinking about eyes for my creatures and this led me to my button collection.<br />
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Today, I sorted my buttons into categories.<br />
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There are plain old normal buttons (the kind you probably think of when I say "button") that are round with two or four holes. Most of my buttons are happy, normal, well-adjusted buttons.<br />
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I would say that roughly three quarters of my buttons are normal. Most of the other fourth of them consists of those buttons with the loop-like holes on the back that you can't see. I call these "ninja buttons" because at first glance, you're like, "What is that circle thing on that person's shirt?" but then a moment later you say, "Oh, it's a button! What? Who would've thought it, a button on a shirt!"</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Of course, ninjas don't wear ninja buttons. That would be weird.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sLZCjwDjjEQ/UTlwcNMqSzI/AAAAAAAAA1o/-XjpH8n0QcY/s1600/IMG_0079.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sLZCjwDjjEQ/UTlwcNMqSzI/AAAAAAAAA1o/-XjpH8n0QcY/s400/IMG_0079.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Even though they can be sneaky and confusing, ninja buttons are still pretty normal. Therefore, almost all my buttons are normal buttons.</div>
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But as I sorted through my buttons, I found a few weirdos.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2Zn2JhXCmM/UTlx25lJ7uI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/w1wbipBDeUc/s1600/IMG_0065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2Zn2JhXCmM/UTlx25lJ7uI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/w1wbipBDeUc/s400/IMG_0065.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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These buttons have only one hole. The one on the right may have been broken at some point, but the one on the left definitely has no idea how to properly be a button.</div>
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I mean, in the attachment process, after the thread goes through the single hole, where does it go?</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4OnkcmfT4c/UTl0sPp__oI/AAAAAAAAA2g/cJAsqhRNY-w/s1600/IMG_0080.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4OnkcmfT4c/UTl0sPp__oI/AAAAAAAAA2g/cJAsqhRNY-w/s400/IMG_0080.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And then, I found buttons with neither holes nor ninja loops on the backs. Basically, they are little plastic circles.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NtVihIk3y4/UTlxzW0_ZiI/AAAAAAAAA2M/UBOc7hKKuyc/s1600/IMG_0061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NtVihIk3y4/UTlxzW0_ZiI/AAAAAAAAA2M/UBOc7hKKuyc/s400/IMG_0061.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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What? Are they even buttons?</div>
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Impostors! Entirely non-functional buttons! I suppose you could glue them, but they'd just fall off after being washed, so what's the point?</div>
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WHY WERE THEY IN MY BUTTON JAR? HOW ARE THEY BUTTONS? WHAT DEFINES A BUTTON? WHAT DEFINES LIFE?</div>
Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-82262295911834942652012-12-09T11:25:00.001-05:002012-12-09T11:25:37.029-05:00when robots are judgmental<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UpsZN-2wyRY/UMS7cSczvDI/AAAAAAAAAwk/N_26vOOqJNk/s1600/JUDGMENTAL+ROBOT+SLUTS1.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="532" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UpsZN-2wyRY/UMS7cSczvDI/AAAAAAAAAwk/N_26vOOqJNk/s640/JUDGMENTAL+ROBOT+SLUTS1.tif" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-46383375510348551192012-09-19T21:16:00.000-04:002012-09-19T21:16:01.558-04:00BEARNICORN. VOTE. GARRR!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-drTnxZt49iQ/UFoBJUUktBI/AAAAAAAAAsU/UO1i0aGm6Hg/s1600/BEARNICORN.+VOTE.+1.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-drTnxZt49iQ/UFoBJUUktBI/AAAAAAAAAsU/UO1i0aGm6Hg/s1600/BEARNICORN.+VOTE.+1.tif" /></a></div>
<br />
Bearnicorn is a presidential candidate unlike any before. He's very honest, and has a solution for every problem.<br />
Born from an uncommon relationship between a unicorn and a grizzly bear, Bearnicorn was raised in the wilderness of Montana, where he learned to work hard and fend for himself. He has risen from an impoverished background and directly understands the struggles of many Americans.<br />
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Bearnicorn lives by a simple philosophy:<br />
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If elected President, Bearnicorn plans to make some drastic changes within our government.<br />
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So vote for this radical new leader on November 6th! And remember,<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7A0mt064vNE/UFpqYnRwgjI/AAAAAAAAAu8/KVBRfuk2tMc/s1600/BEARNICORN.+VOTE.+6.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7A0mt064vNE/UFpqYnRwgjI/AAAAAAAAAu8/KVBRfuk2tMc/s1600/BEARNICORN.+VOTE.+6.tif" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVb-ULL1Hu4/UFpt-3P7ydI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Ushh2leNaXM/s1600/BEARNICORN+logo.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVb-ULL1Hu4/UFpt-3P7ydI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Ushh2leNaXM/s1600/BEARNICORN+logo.tif" /></a></div>
<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-13821548141506481842012-09-03T15:45:00.000-04:002012-09-03T15:45:07.479-04:00So I had this crazy dream...Last night, I had a dream I moved into a giant apartment building in Virginia. My cousin appeared and said,<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qv14UHyYxbA/UET25SyEOPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/CuvKOZ5oz1A/s1600/crazy+dream.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qv14UHyYxbA/UET25SyEOPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/CuvKOZ5oz1A/s1600/crazy+dream.tif" /></a></div>
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And I said,<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buiMLWNNdag/UET3fFvH-qI/AAAAAAAAAoE/m5EgZ3kvkM4/s1600/crazy+dream1.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buiMLWNNdag/UET3fFvH-qI/AAAAAAAAAoE/m5EgZ3kvkM4/s1600/crazy+dream1.tif" /></a></div>
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And she said,<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Nk0hYpDZB0/UET3_Nb4H8I/AAAAAAAAAoM/Yu0HnLdTUi0/s1600/crazy+dream2.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Nk0hYpDZB0/UET3_Nb4H8I/AAAAAAAAAoM/Yu0HnLdTUi0/s1600/crazy+dream2.tif" /></a></div>
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I asked if there was a faster way, and then we started flying through the sky. We flew over Dollywood.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Htil5xqF2cM/UET5kQce_dI/AAAAAAAAAoU/wK6hICKVsmA/s1600/crazy+dream3.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Htil5xqF2cM/UET5kQce_dI/AAAAAAAAAoU/wK6hICKVsmA/s1600/crazy+dream3.tif" /></a></div>
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Then we made it to my cousin's luggage. She had too much stuff. She had four guitars and a banjo. I said,<br />
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Then, we grew more hands and took it all back to Virginia.<br />
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I tried to move into my bedroom, but someone was already living in there. Her bed took up the entire room . She said,<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L6ouKg5WZDU/UET9sIag6TI/AAAAAAAAAos/KP3b5pBmUW4/s1600/crazy+dream6.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L6ouKg5WZDU/UET9sIag6TI/AAAAAAAAAos/KP3b5pBmUW4/s1600/crazy+dream6.tif" /></a></div>
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Then she left. I got angry and walked outside. Then a guy asked me to paint him something. I asked what, and he said,<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FTx9uqT7N9g/UET-dNFwncI/AAAAAAAAAo0/kHvU40c1TAM/s1600/crazy+dream7.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FTx9uqT7N9g/UET-dNFwncI/AAAAAAAAAo0/kHvU40c1TAM/s1600/crazy+dream7.tif" /></a></div>
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Suddenly I had a canvas the size of a wall. Then a girl walked up and said,<br />
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She wrote stupid motivational stuff all over my canvas.<br />
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I got really furious, and I had to get a new canvas. I tried to think of what to paint, and I decided to paint an alien spaceship stealing the dome off the capital building. I thought it would be funny. Then, I was standing outside the capital building and lo and behold, an alien spaceship flew in.<br />
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But instead of stealing the dome, it crashed into the front lawn.<br />
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I ran up to see if the pilot was okay, and Robert De Niro climbed out, yelling about how he was going to get fired and kicked out of the air force for crashing the spaceship.<br />
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He ran away. I looked inside the spaceship and found about thirty pairs of new shoes, all in my size.<br />
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I started to pick up a pair, then I saw a bomb in the backseat. It was about to detonate. I ran away and the spaceship blew up and sent shoes flying everywhere.<br />
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And then I woke up.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-7904172410420160882012-07-06T19:15:00.000-04:002012-07-06T19:15:39.867-04:00Rats.I'm working at an outdoors (in-the-middle-of-a-forest outdoors) camp this summer. I teach kids crafts, and I'm also in charge of a rickety little building called "The Craft Cabin." All the supplies are kept inside, and we do crafts out on the porch. It's rotting in places, and I find new little piles of termite dust every day.<br />
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However, these things don't bother me as much as what lives inside in the loft.<br />
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Honestly, I'm terrified every time I have to go up there to get more craft supplies. You know why? Because <a href="http://beastosaur.blogspot.com/2012/03/couch-monsters.html" target="_blank">fart monsters</a> live up there. Other people at camp call them "wood rats," but I know better. They're definitely fart monsters.<br />
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At the beginning of the summer, the craft cabin looked terrible inside. There was really weird junk everywhere, crammed into every corner and crevice.<br />
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It took me two and a half weeks to gut and clean the inside. I filled up at least 6 giant trash cans. But I never cleaned the loft. I still haven't. It's too scary.<br />
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At one point during my cleaning spree, a friend came to see me. She said,<br />
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We climbed up the rickety metal ladder and stood in the loft, amidst bins and boxes full of craft supplies, and piles of chewed up paper, yarn, and fabric.<br />
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Something rustled about four feet away underneath a stray piece of poster board. I said,<br />
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I made it about halfway down the ladder when my friend suddenly was standing on a bin instead of the floor. I never saw her jump. I think she apparated.<br />
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At the same time, I heard a plop and a rustle in the big trash can below.<br />
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Apparently, a fart monster had emerged from under the poster board and scuttled across her foot. It ran straight out of the loft and miraculously landed in the trash can.<br />
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We climbed down the ladder and peered into the trash can. Surely enough, a fart monster poked its nose out.<br />
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I slammed the lid onto the trash can.<br />
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We voyaged across camp to the dumpster and upended the trash can. The fart monster fell in, and piles of junk fell on top of it.<br />
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We climbed up the side of the dumpster and peeked over the edge, looking for the fart monster. Some other people approached the dumpster. Soon, there were about ten of us peeking into the dumpster, looking for the fart monster.<br />
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I feel a little guilty about the whole event. The fart monster was actually kind of cute. But I must remind myself that if I had kept it around, I probably would have gotten the black plague. And ebola. <br />
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I've only climbed entirely into the loft of the craft cabin one other time this whole summer. I would clean it, but I'm too terrified.<br />
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And last week, an entire big trash can full of junk tipped over up there somehow, showering the floor below with shreds of paper and fabric and rat turds. I'm not sure how big a fart monster would have to be to manage to tip over an entire big trash can full of stuff. I'd rather not think about it.<br />
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-50101574206477112312012-05-10T13:51:00.001-04:002012-05-10T13:52:39.798-04:00Bearnicorn for PresidentI have found a worthy candidate for the presidency of the United States. His name is Bearnicorn.<br />
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"But bearnicorns cannot run for president. Only humans can," you say. Well think again! Bears, especially bearnicorns, behave better than many politicians.<br />
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Here are eight reasons why you should vote for Mr. Bearnicorn in November:<br />
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1) He can protect you.<br />
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2) He loves everyone.<br />
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3) He doesn't let people control him.<br />
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4) His horn may or may not have magical properties.<br />
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5) He is honest.<br />
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6) His solutions to problems are simple and can be easily understood.<br />
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7) He is committed to excellence.<br />
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8) His speeches are incredibly inspiring.<br />
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Well, Mr. Bearnicorn will probably eat your legs either way, but if you vote for him, he will also eat politicians' legs.<br />
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So vote for Mr. Bearnicorn 2012!Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-14764563523527565212012-05-05T20:08:00.000-04:002012-05-05T20:08:13.886-04:00Roof Racks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-19280985478626807102012-05-03T15:05:00.000-04:002013-10-02T13:36:03.451-04:00Peyton Manning<br />
Marketing things is difficult for sellers and for buyers. People have a hard time deciding which brand of something to buy. A name-brand product? A generic version? With so many options, people get overwhelmed. They stare at the shelves in the supermarket until they dissolve into puddles of confusion.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kSfrHzRwE0c/T6LDJ0PxWII/AAAAAAAAAgg/xtmG__9kzyA/s1600/peytonmanning2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kSfrHzRwE0c/T6LDJ0PxWII/AAAAAAAAAgg/xtmG__9kzyA/s640/peytonmanning2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eDMJu028Bng/T6LAfcXCo1I/AAAAAAAAAgU/AkOvFcy66Sk/s1600/peytonmanning.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eDMJu028Bng/T6LAfcXCo1I/AAAAAAAAAgU/AkOvFcy66Sk/s640/peytonmanning.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TkUIChyUY5A/T6LE1Genj4I/AAAAAAAAAgw/CLTmNBUgUYU/s1600/peytonmanning3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TkUIChyUY5A/T6LE1Genj4I/AAAAAAAAAgw/CLTmNBUgUYU/s640/peytonmanning3.png" width="640" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wvV6kBYUkIA/T6LDRsqNX5I/AAAAAAAAAgo/QCpnDH-wMx8/s1600/peytonmanning1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wvV6kBYUkIA/T6LDRsqNX5I/AAAAAAAAAgo/QCpnDH-wMx8/s640/peytonmanning1.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mzrYMCITxTc/T6LFeEK-HHI/AAAAAAAAAg4/LO00pZePibM/s1600/peytonmanning4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mzrYMCITxTc/T6LFeEK-HHI/AAAAAAAAAg4/LO00pZePibM/s640/peytonmanning4.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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However, in East Tennessee (especially Knoxville), there is a solution for this marketing dilemma!<br />
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If you want to sell something in Knoxville, just slap <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peyton_Manning">Peyton Manning</a>'s face on it! People will choose it over anything!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wpIGT77Pg-Q/T6LIZ_YCLaI/AAAAAAAAAhE/th_K8WAtjcM/s1600/peytonmanning4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wpIGT77Pg-Q/T6LIZ_YCLaI/AAAAAAAAAhE/th_K8WAtjcM/s640/peytonmanning4.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here are some examples:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P_AiMqFDL4g/T6LWrs9f6jI/AAAAAAAAAiM/_hsovjgNVKg/s1600/peytonmanning5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P_AiMqFDL4g/T6LWrs9f6jI/AAAAAAAAAiM/_hsovjgNVKg/s640/peytonmanning5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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But when you add Peyton Manning's face...</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WH6oc1X0nE8/T6LWX6058sI/AAAAAAAAAiE/agMoHqugGVE/s1600/peytonmanning6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WH6oc1X0nE8/T6LWX6058sI/AAAAAAAAAiE/agMoHqugGVE/s640/peytonmanning6.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Peyton Manning can sell anything.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xK5bwi-eddI/T6LPa0RzSlI/AAAAAAAAAhg/5PQ-y-C4Mk8/s1600/peytonmanning7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xK5bwi-eddI/T6LPa0RzSlI/AAAAAAAAAhg/5PQ-y-C4Mk8/s640/peytonmanning7.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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But when you add Peyton Manning's face...</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R-h6OUXO9CU/T6LQVmavVHI/AAAAAAAAAho/sbVKdXoJuEc/s1600/peytonmanning8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R-h6OUXO9CU/T6LQVmavVHI/AAAAAAAAAho/sbVKdXoJuEc/s640/peytonmanning8.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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One more example:</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i9nVuDPh5eo/T6LURqI0DcI/AAAAAAAAAh0/YvP01mhxk9Q/s1600/peytonmanning9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i9nVuDPh5eo/T6LURqI0DcI/AAAAAAAAAh0/YvP01mhxk9Q/s640/peytonmanning9.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYuD0NGFFj0/T6LV4br5JJI/AAAAAAAAAh8/GWxkWvdYB7c/s1600/peytonmanning11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYuD0NGFFj0/T6LV4br5JJI/AAAAAAAAAh8/GWxkWvdYB7c/s640/peytonmanning11.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-22790609612771910672012-04-27T22:41:00.000-04:002012-04-27T22:47:42.916-04:00Signs your roommates are velociraptorsDo you have bad roommates? They could be velociraptors.<br />
Your roommates might be velociraptors if:<br />
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They never clean anything.<br />
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They don't brush their teeth. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TrZ_TqSBN4A/T5s4SsM4V2I/AAAAAAAAAeo/QE4wJNoxdTA/s1600/raptorroomies2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="570" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TrZ_TqSBN4A/T5s4SsM4V2I/AAAAAAAAAeo/QE4wJNoxdTA/s640/raptorroomies2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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They don't go to the bathroom in the bathroom.<br />
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There are things resembling dead animal bits all over the floor and walls.<br />
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Whenever they get locked out, they bust the door down instead of asking an RA for help.<br />
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Whenever you say hello to them, they run at you screeching and growling.<br />
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When you offer to share some of your extra food with them, they tear your arms off instead.<br />
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When you put your new TV in the living room, they don't understand how it works, so they tear it to bits.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCtHfLt07sQ/T5tOrCcKJ-I/AAAAAAAAAfs/3MWXmP0lCJc/s1600/raptorroomies9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="570" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCtHfLt07sQ/T5tOrCcKJ-I/AAAAAAAAAfs/3MWXmP0lCJc/s640/raptorroomies9.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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When you try to sleep at night, you are kept awake by your neighbors' screams of terror.<br />
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They don't help you pay the rent. Or the utilities.<br />
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They don't use dishes to eat.<br />
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-50973113009312062532012-04-21T18:42:00.000-04:002012-04-21T18:42:59.589-04:00Well... I tried.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-67990765881861043722012-04-13T19:22:00.000-04:002012-04-13T19:22:29.883-04:00Cows 101 (not recommended for the faint of stomach)Cows are interesting. Many people like to drink milk from cows. Some people even eat cows. The sad part of all this is that people don't take the time to get to know cows. I bet if I asked you, "What is a cow's favorite color?" you would have no answer for me. That is utterly shameful. (Yes, I did just go there.)<br />
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Today I will take some time to tell you everything you probably never bothered to learn about cows.<br />
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In case you didn't know, this is a cow:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7ZiIkKlcnM/T4iijH5vQOI/AAAAAAAAAZo/jOyDnX3JCRg/s1600/things+cows+like+to+do.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="470" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7ZiIkKlcnM/T4iijH5vQOI/AAAAAAAAAZo/jOyDnX3JCRg/s640/things+cows+like+to+do.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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The cow I have pictured above is an iconic cow. As you hopefully know, not all cows are white with black blobs (I would say "spots," but the word "spots" makes me think of dalmatians, and dalmatians are not cows.)<br />
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Some cows are brown. Some are all white. Some are all black. Some are blond. Some are solid-colored with big blobs of brown from rolling around in dirt and other brown things.<br />
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A boy version is called a bull or a steer, depending on how successful he'd be at creating little cows. A girl version is called a heifer or a cow, depending on how many times she's uh, been around the block. Little cows are called calves.<br />
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But today, we will focus on cows: the females who have, you know, been here, done that, had some calves to prove it...<br />
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A cow's favorite color is green, because green is the color of grass, and grass is delicious.<br />
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In fact, cows like grass so very much that they eat it, then puke it back up to eat it some more!<br />
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Cows chew regurgitated grass the way old, toothless hillbillies chew tobacco--constantly. Except cows are better at retaining their teeth.<br />
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If you think a cow's only hobby is eating barfy grass, you are wrong! Cows also like taking tremendous poops!<br />
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Cows have udders. Udders have teats. Usually a cow udder has four teats. These teats are where milk comes from. Mmm, milk!<br />
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Sometimes, cow udders have more than four teats. Extra teats are called supernumerary teats. They are useless because you cannot get milk from them.<br />
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Cows like the sound of tractors. They find it soothing. At least until the tractors begin chasing them. Then cows see tractors as big and scary.<br />
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Finally, cows enjoy rampaging after small children. I'm not sure why they they enjoy such terrorism, but they do. Maybe they want revenge because of the tractors.<br />
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I hope you know more about cows now than you did before.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-24223870547585498402012-04-05T21:49:00.000-04:002012-04-05T21:49:07.808-04:00My printer is adorable.My printer is adorable. I am not going to complain about its inefficiency like most people do when they talk about their printers. My printer is plenty efficient, and it never gives me much trouble. It also has a scanner!<br />
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My printer is adorable because it tries so hard to make me happy.<br />
Usually, when I print something out, my printer takes plenty of time, making sure it gives me a good-quality copy of whatever it is I'm printing.<br />
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Sometimes, I have to tell my printer to print out a fast draft of something because I'm in a hurry.<br />
My printer takes this very seriously.<br />
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When my printer prints a fast draft of something, the print-out never lands on the printer tray. Instead, my printer keeps on pushing and unceremoniously chucks the print-out into the floor. I think my printer does this because it is excited and proud of its speedy accomplishment, not because it is defective.<br />
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If I could change one thing about my printer, it would have a wireless connection to my computer. But I'm not going to tell my printer that, because it would try really really hard to be wireless and would inevitably fail, and then it would shut itself down because of its fear of disappointing me.<br />
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My printer is adorable.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-34162509655112164032012-03-31T23:46:00.000-04:002012-04-01T19:00:41.871-04:00April Fools'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Except I think I'm way too nice to actually punch anyone.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-21139187152556136852012-03-30T18:04:00.000-04:002012-03-30T19:18:11.427-04:00Words with Friends EtiquetteYou wouldn't think that a fun game like Words with Friends would require its own etiquette, would you?<br />
But it does.<br />
One thing that irks me about that game is the "rematch" feature. Whenever you finish a game with someone, it says, "Rematch?" which isn't really a problem, except that it presents the option to both people playing. If both people playing say, "Yes! Rematch!" it doesn't set you up with one new game; it sets you up with two.<br />
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And if you remain apathetic about it and play both games anyway, you'll finish both games and get presented with "Rematch?" again, and you'll probably repeat your actions and choose to answer yes again, and then you and your friend will have four games going, which isn't much fun as it becomes a very confusing chore.<br />
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One way to fix this is to choose a rematch, and then deny your friend's game. But that can come across as rude, and it can hurt your friend's feelings since it shows up on their device as "Blahblahface turned down your request."<br />
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What I think would really fix this problem and others relating to Words with Friends is some simple etiquette:<br />
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Rule #1: The loser retains the right to a rematch.<br />
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If you beat someone and rematch them, it's kind of mean.<br />
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But if you lose, then you have every right to a rematch.<br />
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Rule #2: Don't whine about your assortment of letters. It annoys people.<br />
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It has been said of my English teacher-whiz of a mother, "It's amazing how she can score a thousand points with four vowels and a piece of lint on the screen." (Or something like that.)<br />
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Rule #3: Whether you're winning or losing, have no mercy. Don't play dumb if your friend never plays a word above 10 points. There is no room for pity or mercy in the arena of Words with Friends.<br />
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(An ibex is a <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ed/Capra_ibex_ibex_%E2%80%93_03.jpg/220px-Capra_ibex_ibex_%E2%80%93_03.jpg">wild goat</a>, by the way.)<br />
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In fact, people use playing dumb as weapon sometimes. They wait for you to begin playing weak words in pity, and then they whip out their big letters and obliterate you. You must defend yourself early.<br />
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Rule #4: Don't brag about your achievements.</div>
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It makes people angry and bloodthirsty for your demise.<br />
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Yay, have fun!</div>
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(If you are technologically deficient and possibly old, and have no idea what I'm talking about but read this whole thing anyway, go <a href="http://www.wordswithfriends.com/">here</a>.)</div>Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-28587437515633633532012-03-25T14:07:00.002-04:002012-03-25T15:35:00.028-04:00Gandalf drives an Isuzu now.The other day, I saw a man with long gray hair and a long gray beard driving his big red Isuzu over the grass and the sidewalk onto the main road. Because of the obvious lack of damns he seemed to give about it, I figured he must have been Gandalf.<br />
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That's all.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-14369520248190892412012-03-22T18:04:00.001-04:002012-03-22T18:04:45.329-04:00How you know you are still a childI am 20 years old. People younger than me say things to me like, "Gee, you're pretty much a grown-up! College? Whoa!" while people older than me say things like, "What's your major? What are you going to do with <i>that</i>? You just don't even know."<br />
I think I might agree with the older people.<br />
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Maybe you are like me, and still feel very young.<br />
You know you are still a child if you do any of these things on a regular basis:<br />
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You sleep with a stuffed animal.<br />
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You don't like vegetables.<br />
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You play with your food.<br />
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You think poop-related subjects are funny.<br />
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You also think curse words are funny.<br />
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You climb on everything.<br />
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You still have a Gameboy or Nintendo (or if you're a hipster child, a Sega) that you play on a regular basis. (You are even more like a child if you went out and bought the latest version.)<br />
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Finally, you know you're a child if you yell, "NO!" at people when they ask you to do things.<br />
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Now I have to go be a <i>grown-up</i> and take out the trash.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-86255124032173037512012-03-15T20:45:00.001-04:002012-03-17T10:29:45.095-04:005 minute comicsI really did spend only five minutes on each of these. I also didn't start out with any ideas. I opened the drawing program on my laptop, used only my trackpad with my fingers, and told myself, "Go! Now!"<br />
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They turned out a little... odd (and sloppy, of course). But I guess that's what happens when you start with nothing.<br />
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I hope you enjoy my pure, unadulterated brain spewage.<br />
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-28296394981210084682012-03-10T21:57:00.000-05:002012-03-10T21:57:43.172-05:00fancy-schmancy new feature!I just created a funny button. If you scroll down the page a bit you will see it. It looks like this:<br />
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If you click on it, it will magically transport you to a new place that has made me laugh. It may or may not make you laugh too, depending on your sense of humor.<br />
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What is even more magical is that it periodically changes!<br />
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Warning: The magical places to which the funny button will take you will be funny. If you do not feel like laughing, don't click on the funny button. The funny button will never take you somewhere sad. That is not the funny button's purpose. Sometimes, the funny button will transport you to a funny thing that is also gross. It may or may not include poop and/or snot related content. If the mere mention of poop and snot makes you frown with disgust, think twice before clicking on the funny button.<br />
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That is all.<br />
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(The funny button will do the best it can to make you at least chuckle a bit-- maybe even giggle girlishly, and possibly laugh out loud. The funny button's highest hope is to make you snort, causing you to laugh at yourself for snorting, causing you to laugh even harder, maybe even until your stomach hurts and you cry.)<br />
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(If the funny button causes you to cry, hopefully it will be from laughter. If you click on the funny button and immediately cry without first laughing, the funny button will also cry because it will feel like a failure. Remember that. Please be nice to the funny button and don't make it cry.)<br />
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(That is all parentheses-wise.)Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-36006942874271739952012-03-08T00:30:00.000-05:002012-03-09T19:11:02.217-05:00Couch MonstersThe neighbors across the street have couches and armchairs on their front porch. These aren't wimpy, spindly couches and armchairs, either. Although I have never stepped onto their porch and sat on their couches (because that would be creepy), they look pretty cushy.<br />
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Couches on the porch aren't really a problem if the porch is screened in and/or well-covered. But this porch isn't screened in <i>or</i> well-covered. It is a rickety-looking little porch with a rickety-looking roof.<br />
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If my general knowledge of the world is correct, I know that cushy things and the outdoors do not go well together.<br />
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When it rains, cushy things get soggy. When it stays humid for days after raining, the way it often does here in east Tennessee, mold grows on cushy things, because they never completely dry.<br />
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Let's zoom in on that red couch, shall we?<br />
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I bet my neighbors have mold monsters like this one living on their couches and armchairs.<br />
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And come to think of it, I've never actually seen anyone sitting on the couches or in the armchairs...<br />
Maybe it's because they tried, and the mold monsters bit them!<br />
Or because the couches are still damp from the rain and humidity.<br />
Or because the couches smell weird.<br />
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When cushy things stay damp for a while, they smell terrible. My neighbors' couches and armchairs most likely smelled terrible from the beginning.<br />
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When they originally bought the couches and armchairs, I bet my neighbors said, "Hey, let's air them out on the porch first." Or they said, "Crap. They don't fit through the front door. I guess we'll leave them on the porch." Either way, it probably rained that night, making the furniture smell even more terrible. And then my neighbors just gave up and threw a party. (They throw lots of parties. The other night, I saw a guy there running around in boxers drinking beer next to a guy wearing a five piece suit. It was weird. I also think I saw a bathtub in their living room.)<br />
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But I don't think the mold monsters are the ones who make damp, cushy things smell nasty. I think the fart monsters do.<br />
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Instead of clinging to the outside of the couches like mold monsters, fart monsters live inside the couches.<br />
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"But that looks like a rat," you say. It's a fart monster. Fart monsters are much, much larger than rats.<br />
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I'm pretty sure that rats used to live in my neighbors' couches until the fart monsters took over.<br />
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Here is the size of a fart monster in comparison to a rat:<br />
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Here is the size of a fart monster in comparison to my face:<br />
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The reason why fart monsters make couches smell bad during humid weather stems from cheese.<br />
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Fart monsters feel okay about dry, crumbly cheese, but they like moist cheese better. When they can, they stockpile their cheese and wait for a rainstorm. The humidity that follows swells the cheese to the level of deliciousness that fart monsters desire. Then they feast on the cheese.<br />
We all know how atrocious cheese farts smell.<br />
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So, the two main monsters that I think live in my neighbors' couches and armchairs are mold monsters and fart monsters.<br />
Mold monsters grow when the couches are damp. They bite people. Fart monsters make the damp couches smell rotten with their cheese feasts.<br />
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I could bore you all day with all the kinds of monsters I think live in my neighbors' poor, poor furniture, but for now, I will only mention a few more.<br />
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There are dust monsters, who come around during periods of dryness. They make the fluffy innards of the cushions crumble into little dusty bits that leak out the sides.<br />
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There are thread-picking monsters, who act as accomplices to dust monsters. They make whole patches of upholstery mysteriously vanish, so that even more fluffy-couch-crumbles can escape.<br />
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Finally, there are metal-eating monsters. They have acidic saliva that can corrode metal. They like to eat the couch springs.<br />
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Eventually the couch springs break and pop out of the couch through the cushions. If you are able to withstand the mold bites, cheese-fart-stench, and fluffy dusty innards flying up your nose, and you idiotically decide to remain on the couch, a metal-eating monster will stab you in the butt with a spring.<br />
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Moral of the story: Don't keep cushy furniture outside the way my neighbors do.<br />
I give their cushy furniture about six more months before it looks like this:<br />
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<br />Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1397259874927600507.post-32220640885048738172012-03-04T00:05:00.000-05:002012-03-04T17:26:12.257-05:00I drew a... thing.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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WHAT IS IT? At first I thought, "Hey, maybe this is what a beastosaur looks like." But I don't think it is. I mean, it is part beast, but instead of part beast and part dinosaur (the way I usually imagine a beastosaur), it is more part beast and part octopus. So it's a "beastopus"? That sounds horrible in more than one way. An "octobeast," perhaps?<br />
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And even after we figure out what it is, we have to find a name for it. And is it a he or a she? Sometimes drawing unidentified things leads to more work than I originally intend.Kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09698195528603881888noreply@blogger.com2