The DMV and Gender Confusions.

     Today, I am the proud owner of a little piece of plastic that declares the legality of me being behind the wheel of a moving automobile, as long as there is an adult driver of at least the age of twenty-one in the designated passenger seat. At ripe old age of sixteen, I'm slightly behind on the whole license ordeal than the average person of my general geographic location, but better late than never.

"At the DMV. Scary to think this is what it looks like when the government runs something. Our healthcare is doomed."-My band director.

     I think that the DMV is the most common place you will ever see so many severe cases of gender confusion. By this, I mean that you cannot possibly tell which gender said person is. The case is not always that they are unattractive, sometimes they are very attractive, but you just aren't really sure if it's a chick or a dude. There are the mustached women, the scene boys, the transsexual girls, the tom-girls, the overweight black people, and the balding white people. You just cannot tell!

     This is not to be confused with self-gender confusion. This is commonly found in younger humans in the confusing days of childhood, and sometimes in adult humans and animals. I, as most children, had to learn the concept that partial nudity was not socially acceptable in public, because boys and girls are made different. Also, my cat, Pookie (originally named Sweet~Purr), looks something like this:

I wonder if my mother would be insulted that I searched "awful chair fabric" in Google images for a fabric like her chair's.

Pookie is neutered, and truly believes in his little kitty heart that he is a lady cat. Like a good mother, I support him in this.

     On the topic of confusions, what is this Silly Band?

      I found this photograph while creeping somewhere on Facebook (because, people just shouldn't leave their profiles as public if they don't expect creepers), and the commentators had previously decided that it was a "Raptor Jesus" Silly Band. I don't know what kind of identity crisis it is undergoing, but this most definitely needs to be addressed. I guess you just can't have a company that produces and packages shaped elastic bands without some inbreeding taking place.

Well, that's really all I have to say today.

*Lick* <3

Sincerely,

Bee

Tron and Unicorns.

      I saw Tron: Legacy today with my older brother, John, who has been back from college for Christmas break for a couple of weeks now. It was an excellent movie, aside from any way Disney disgraced the original (I, however, have not seen the original, so I can't attest to any disgracing, though it is likely that it does exist), and I highly suggest you see it. The chick that plays Quorra (Olivia Wilde) is adorable, and the kid who plays Sam (Garrett Hedlund) isn't that shabby either; even though I think that when someone does a parody of this movie, they should use Michael Cera. One can never have too much Michael Cera, and...well this picture speaks for itself:

Tron: Legacy (obviously) doesn't belong to me. Don't sue me.

Who doesn't want to see that?

     So, on to more interesting things (More interesting that Micheal Cera as Sam Flynn? Doubtful.). As soon as we got to the part of the movie with the lightcycles, I knew my ride home was going to be going at a minimum of 15 miles an hour over the speed limit. You see, my brother is not a particularly safe driver, and that, coupled with the fact that he truly believes he is the safest driver since Henry Ford (whom, I imagine, was a pretty safe driver, considering the fact that he didn't die before the invention of safety precautions such as airbags and the like) or Joe from Princess Diaries (who, I am still pretty sure, is a ninja), makes him one very dangerous driver. Bad driver + extreme confidence for driving = very horribly terrifyingly bad driver.

     I would rather have not entrusted my life to this post-adolescent traffic violation, but I really wanted to see this movie. Just the way over it was fairly chaotic, so I was forced by my own desire for a three-dimensional adventure into this machine o' death, to survive on my coping methods for the journey there and back. If you are also forced to enter the car with a driver that seems to believe his or her car is made of pixie dust and magic that allows collision to be completely incomprehensible, I shall suggest one coping mechanism to you, my dear friend.

1) Pretend that you are riding a UNICORN.

Because, when you are riding a UNICORN everything is very okay, so okay that the amounts of okay are limitless. UNICORNS are not only awesome, UNICORNS possess magical powers, so you can be all like, "What was that? I ran a red-light? Doesn't matter because I'm riding a UNICORN! My UNICORN can go right through your Hummer with its magical UNICORN powers!" On your UNICORN you are safe. On your UNICORN you are happy. That's right, I used magenta, because there is no ultraviolet font color. But, it doesn't matter. I'm riding a FREAKING UNICORN! (I apologize for the randomly highlighted letters and words, the highlight makes the font color visible against the background.)

    I am home safe now, thanks to my UNICORN, and somewhat hungry, so, now, it is snack time. I'm actually going to proofread this before posting it this time, but, first, some reduced fat Ruffles and some Lays dip and a tall glass of milk.

*Lick*

Cordially,

Bee

Distinguishing Reality

   Recently I am becoming very concerned about a problem I've had all my life. I have difficulties distinguishing between video games and reality. This becomes quite an annoyance when it comes to the scarier parts in video games, such as being devoured by a zombie horde, fighting off a yeti, or being chased by a murderer. 

   

     I considered this normal when I was younger, I always thought, "I'm a six year-old girl playing one of those games that's for ages 10 and up, it's normal to a little spooked by this." (Or something along those lines, except in 6 year-old words); however, I was really way more than a "slightly spooked." I was more like...really super-duper freaking terrified, to the point that once I even became ill from the pure puddle-on-the-floor, oh my freaking gosh, there is a zombie trying to devour my flesh. frightfulness of it all. Not to mention that all of them gave me horrible nightmares.

    

     The first instance was when I younger and still living on our family farm, my parents bought my brother, John, and I a PlayStation 1, that was some legitimately awesome stuff back then, and the game of the "Spyro the Dragon" series, "Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage." (which, by the way, now sells on Amazon for $36.98, screw that.) on about the second level, in Collosus, you were informed that you would have to defeat a yeti.

     

     I started shaking at the idea of my little purple dragon avatar, no...me being torn to pieces by the yeti. (Although when I finally reached the room containing the yeti, I found out that it kills itself when it makes the ceiling cave in.) 

The yeti looks like this during it's brief virtual existence:

As you can see, it is not all that scary. Maybe like a yak with a case of indigestion and a toothache.

In my mind it looked like this:

  This absolutely terrified me. That thing is like Were the Wild Things Are gone wrong on crack-cocain and with an overdose of Pepto Bismol. I actually feared for my life, not Spyro's. Spyro can breathe fire, he can take care of himself. It's me that needs to flee.

     As I grew older I was introduced to the Nancy Drew games on PC. Playing one of these, I actually became so scared I threw up, and became ill. They aren't even made to be scary, just a little spooky, like those sound effect tracks some people play outside of their houses on Halloween, or maybe like the book cover of Frankenstein. But to me, it was equivalent to actually being swallowed hole by a yeti, or perhaps being sucked into a bad Disney cartoon. I just simply couldn't convince my mind that it wasn't real.

     The first first-shooter game I ever completed or even really got in to was Bioshock. I was fifteen at the time, and I was still petrified. I expected to have grown out of it by now, but, no, the whole time I was playing my face looked like this:

But I still completed the game that day.
     

     But, again, I considered this somewhat normal. Then today my brother got me to play a game called Amnesia. It went something like this:

I'm starting to wonder if I should see a psychologist. At least I could get my OCD diagnosed while I'm there. *Sigh*

Well, that was a complete overuse of MS Paint. Now it is misbehaving. You're welcome.

*Lick* <3

 Bye.

Communitcation Error

     Recently (meaning this morning), my parents forgot to pay the phone company. I first realized this when I received a text message from my alien lover. When I attempted to send my reply my the screen of my phone declared, 

"NETWORK NOT RESPONDING MESSAGE SAVED IN SENT"

     There are many problems with this, but, one in particular that I would like to discuss: grammar and usage of capital letters.

     Because I have been through ten fine years of grammatical education, the lack of grammatical usage in this notification is disturbing to me. Correctly written, this might say, "The network is not responding; message is to be saved in 'sent.'" I suppose that this is a bit lengthy to fit on the tiny screen of my red Juke, but the grammatically aware are suffering. When ever I see any of the excessively capitalized alerts that it has to say, I feel like it is screaming them at me with angst.

So when I see this:

My brain thinks this:

     Although, I am aware of the fact that my phone's attitude towards me is my own fault. It has expressed its concern of brain damage, because I drop it much more frequently than it's previous owner, my father. It doesn't truly appreciate the effort it requires to try to reply to a text message while showering, and is disgruntled with the tiny amounts of water that have soaked into it's keys over time. It complains that I sometimes confuse it by receiving too many text messages in one second, causing it to have to shut itself down and restart so it can think again. And, when it realized that I am to be receiving a Droid soon, our relationship was not good at all.

     It now only charges at a very obscure angle perched on my lamp that connects to my bed, and it insists me memory is far to full to send one little text message. And, the keys are short circuited, so only the spin wheel and the left key respond to my prodding. So I turned it off and made it a little bed to let it rest until my parents pay the bill. It deserves a vacation for being such a loyal phone, through my abuse. 

Kittens for You.

     Here are some kittens for you.

     I felt like kittens would be a good way to start this blog; because, one can never have too much kitten. A good way to break the ice to an internet that runs off the blood of LOLcats. Did talking about the blood of kittens just ruin it for me? Yes, but only for the more sensitive, female audience? So now I am to be shunned like like when your character is discovered to have the "cannibalism" perk in Fallout 3? Yes, but now I have won the affection of the gamers? Good. This blogging thing should be interesting. If it becomes a thing, we'll see how it works out. Now I sound like Wheezy Waiter. Oh, dear...


There is also a slight problem with the fact that my text is all off center even though I have the HTML coding correct...We'll see how that turns out.


I just noticed that I'm talking to you as if you exist, when really I have no sure knowledge of your existence. Well, clearly, if you're reading this, you most likely exist. However, what if nobody reads it and it just lies vagrant and empty like a an emptied milk jug that someone drank the last of and then put back in the fridge. And then went on vacation. And then died in a tragic helicopter accident when accidentally flying over Mecca. This is going nowhere.


I'll end it awkwardly.


Bye *lick* <3 

*Update*: Fixed it! I'm not sure how, but it is correct now, so I don't really care. Even if it had nothing to do with me entering and exiting editor without changing anything about twenty times.


Love,
Bee