Well, that lasted long.

Pictured: Several of the rocks I've been hiding under.

I intend to be up and running, clogging your feeds with YouTube links and some reference to baked good or another in the next few days. Until then, I give you the entry I had meant to post about three weeks ago. Progress is progress.

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Hello, kids. I'm a bad blogger and I know it. My constant dry spells and subsequent need for forgiveness are just part of my charm though, right? It was near-August when I last posted. Oops. Here are a few things I've learned since then.

-An instrument tuned to A440 'makes you a little nervous'. (Thank you, Steve Lindley.)

-Couples love me. I don't know what it is, ladies and gentlemen, but something about me puts romantic duos in a giving mood. Give me your spare water bottle? Sure. Let me move to the front row of the concert? But of course. Swipe me through when my MetroCard isn't working? Don't give it another thought.

-Teaching hospitals are considerably less fun than an episode of Scrubs when you're on the patient-side of things.*

-It is possible for me to send several letters to the wrong addresses. Twice.

-Rabbit is delicious.

-Telling your brain to shut up when a situation is entirely out of your hands will make for a much more enjoyable time. I mean, there's nothing you can do about potentially being trapped on a island, is there?

-Road rage is easier to manage with a rubber orca in the passenger's seat.

-Airport security personnel really appreciate winter-wear.

-Finding the ridiculous nightshirt of your dreams is well worth the risk of bed bugs.

-I am just as gullible as I was at five. Creator of that Mars hoax, you broke my heart.

Follower Love-Fest #12: Z

I love the mystery of Z. One letter is all you need, and it's just the right one when A-Y just won't do. Z is, as his (her? I really don't know.) picture will show, is a leather-clad warrior who is liable to take your ass down a peg or two if you so much as look at his Beanie Baby collection the wrong way.

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*This one will come up again in our next edition, too. El ohh el.

Anyway, I'm trying out this new thing where I'm a truly productive member of society. I get up early, eat wholesome breakfasts, get all my work done, am highly involved in extracurriculars--all that kind of stuff. Or, at least, that's the idea. We'll see how it works out.

Bad habits.

I've always had a few.

I bite my nails, chew my lips, crack my knuckles, play with my head (the whole thing) when I'm sleepy, and fidget.

Thank God I never actually went to cotillion, or the the instructor would have likely been arrested for attempting to beat these most unladylike qualities out of me.

And I just couldn't deal with the guilt.

My newest habit is leaving the updating of this blog for too long, and then falling behind on reading as well.

Shameful.

Quick recap:

-I'm twenty. Icky, but I think I'll get by.

-My parents came over and good times were had, as predicted. We went on a family trip and it was amazing and I can't wait to see them again in a few days.

-I'm going between packing, cleaning, editing photos from the trip, and taking spontaneous naps right now.

-My last Fringe post was lost in the Internet, due to my own position as a spaz, but it's up now. So, that's cool, even though I felt awful for mucking things up.

-Mah buddeh took a five hour bus ride to visit me and I am so not worthy of her gloriousness. Where are Wayne and Garth when you need them?

Nevermind. I found them.

-Trying to get my act together in a big, bad way. I WILL READ YOUR BLOGS. Note the use of CAPS.

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Follower Love-Fest #5: KLH

Okay, I'm going to be honest with you, kids. As with the first batch of lovely people, I can't click through to this young lady's profile. I hope she won't consider it libel if I just make things up. KLH's hair smells like fresh strawberries. She once made a cookie-pie big enough to feed all of the kindergardeners in her school district, and hand-delivered the slices to the twelve kids who were out sick with the chicken pox that day. Professor Utonium is her real dad.

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And, just so you know, it's Judy Garland's birthday. I love this woman. Celebrating with a PB&J for dinner.

Happy birthday, Ms. Garland.

FDR, forever. I gotchu, girrrrrrl.

I couldn't avoid it if I wanted to, so just deal.

LOVE!

Annnnnd we're back. For real this time.

Mortimer lives, and let us rejoice!

He might have a screwy CD drive now, but that will be sorted out by the start of next week. IhopeIhopeIhope.

Life is pretty good. I mean, I'm in a state of panic about exams, but nothing that some awesome video messages from home and a lovely friend's insistence on making me dinner can't cure.

Do you know what's crazy? The fact that I have twenty-five followers. That means that I now how as many followers as I do entries. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it certainly has me excited. In honour of that, my new plan is to end every entry with a little blurb on why one of my followers is awesome. This will be an imperfect plan, as it seems that some of my followers are just pixellated silhouettes. It doesn't mean that I love them any less, but it does mean that I can't see their profiles. So, in advance, let me just say that I really, really, really, really love Erin, Stephy, Cassie, and Laura. They're super-foxy.

But this entry ain't over yet.

First, the big news. Well, big to me.

I'm going to be writing for Fringe Magazine's blog. I just e-mailed them my first 'assignment' and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't stupidly giddy.

If you're not familiar with Fringe, click it and educate yourself.

And please read that last sentence in Pleakley's voice.

It's just a really great collection of art and writing that wouldn't otherwise make it to the general public. And all the cool kids are reading it while they wear their Sketchers and write notes with Milky Pens. Those things are still hip, right?

And now,

Follower Love-Fest #1: TRICIA

Tricia is the babe behind Stop the world, I wanna get on!. When she's not being a professional sexpot, Tricia is bringing the world of fantastical world of polar bear cork boards, beautiful nail polishes, and the bleu cheese crisis in Lithuania. One of those might not be entirely true. What I'm trying to say is that Tricia is the bee's knees.

___

Just got a text that it's dinner time, so I'm out like Scout.

Zombie Jesus Day!

I failed to go to church, make brunch, or dye eggs this year.

Between the assumed --unless I'm told that he can make a recovery on Tuesday--death of Mortimer, college, and a rather startling arrangement of personal problems, I just couldn't find the time to get into the manic groove that all commercially-endorsed holidays bring out in me.

My housemates have been beyond beyond the past couple of days.

Sure, we're living in a rather disgusting structure, comprised of dirty dishes, newspapers, breadcrumbs, and ants, all posing as a house, but it's kind of nice.

Until the other day, I hadn't seen most of my loves in a week. Some I still haven't seen.

We gots the looooove, though.

When I came home a sleep-deprived mess (six hours' sleep, spread over four days is apparently not enough for a functioning human being), two of my housemates were sitting, watching Glee and eating homemade lemon muffins.

They listened to me rant, then we hugged, ate the deliciousness, and I finally succumbed to Glee's awesome power.

I repeat, 'awesome'.

Right now, I'm waiting for the call from home when the phone will be passed around to every available relative and we will scream love at each other.

Also contemplating whether or not it's worth it to finish an essay which I will probably be failed for anyway.

Either way, I am running off to the shop to see if there is any chocolate left for me to sneakily hide in my housemate's pillows.

Final note: I hope you're all full of love and chocolate/roast/Peeps/whatever you gave up for Lent, if you did. But mostly love. For tradition's sake, I give you

The Baaaaall

Okay, I snagged a few photos off of some friends and will now be flinging them at all of you lovelies. I totally want to show how how sexy my friends looked in their costumes (I mean, I think I'm surrounded by some pretty foooiiiine people every day, but in their formal wear--awwww yeah), though I don't want to freak them out with the idea of their pictures being all over the ol' WWW. So I'll just post a few.

First, proof that we were, in fact, on a boat.

Loveliest person I know and myself before the ball. I think that she looks fucking fabulous in the wig, as did everyone else, but she's just not having it.

Is she wrong, or is she wrong?

Two of my other totally foxy friends, partying like it's 1928. Words are not enough to convey the levels of badass achieved here.

I don't really know this kid, but he seems nice enough and we share far too many mutual friends for me to assume him anything other than awesome. Also, this is the only photo in which I am not making a ridiculous face.

More of my beloveds looking schweet.

The band. They came on at around 8:30 and didn't stop until we all had to leave the boat. In short, they were gods.

A friend and myself failing to get the attention of the barman at the afterparty. I don't know who took this picture, actually, but I do appreciate them giving a shot of my shoes.

Now, get out there and enjoy your Fridays, beautiful people!

About this ball thing.

Tonight is the ball!

As of right now, I have no dress, montage music, or army of rodent seamstresses, but I'm not worried.

It is perfectly acceptable to skip one's first lecture of the day if it's in pursuit of a dress.

Right?

Anyway, I'm off to find the magical dress of my dreams.

And, yes, I've only painted the nails on one hand.

Hope you're all having a lovely Monday/had a great weekend!

Update: The ball was at least twenty-eight trillion kinds of amazing. Everyone looked gorgeous and just gahhhhhhhhhh. So good. My camera is too big to bring to these things, but I will be more than happy to steal some from my friends' photos once they're sorted.

This was my dress, which I got for more than half off. Hell to the yes, TKMaxx!

I wound up completely ignoring the theme, shy of my feathers and makeup, but that's fiiiiiine.

Nothing better than Photobooth pictures for now, I'm afraid.

And these shoes.

As much as I love these babies, dancing for six hours nonstop has killed my tootsies.

The music was not right for the decade, but it was glorious. When Minnie the Moocher came on, I pretty much lost my mind.

Love!