Sunscreen Chap

Sunburned lips.
A whole two minutes of my day was dedicated to pondering sunburned lips today. And as I write this and realize that sunburnt is in no way a real word, now I'm spending time dedicated to pondering why not. Because I think it's quite clear that sunburnt lips sounds better than sunburned lips, not that either sound good in the sense of feeling good, rather the former is just more pleasant to the ear.
That is my conclusion.

On to actual things.

The school play was pretty good. Kind of okay. Ben's physical comedy is just above and beyond all the acting is all, but that could be good or bad depending on how you look at it. If you enjoy seeing tall, lanky black men in pink feather boas I suggest you go see it.

basics iono.

I just checked my email, which is a rare occurrence, considering all the myspacing and facebooking and aiming and blogging and texting and calling and jazz. But I hate it. I hate it because I love letters. The real kind, too. The kind you get in those boxes sprouting from the ground outside the front of your house, you know? The ones that big boxy white car occasionally stops in front of and opens to generously supply you with bills and advertisements?
I WANT LETTERS.
I remember being little and oh so excited to walk down my gravely and cracked drive way down to the mailbox and bring the mail to my Momma, and then the one time a year I'd get anything I would always get angry with her if she opened it first. So all these years I've honest to god been depressed that I never get anything in the mail, except for the postcards Olivia sends me every summer from where ever she is in Europe, and now I don't get email either.
IT WAS EMPTY. EVEN MY EMAIL WAS EMPTY.
like my life.

wow emo child.


iwantlettersmorethaniwanttomeetjimhalpert.
wait, no that was a lie.
but i want them lots.

TATA box

Television these days is pathetic. There are an array of words I could use to describe it, such as disgusting, degrading, crap, so on and so forth.
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
WHILE I AM WRITING THIS I AM WATCHING KEEPING UP WITH THE KARDASHIANS AND I JUST WITNESSED A TEN YEAR OLD KARDASHIAN HUGGING HER MOTHER AND SCREAMING "YOUR BOOB IS REALLY SQUISHY YOUR BOOB IS REALLY SQUISHY" WHILE BANGING HER HEAD ON SAID BOOB.
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHHA.
I was going to write more on the above subject, but my point was just proved for me.
Oh but I did just want to share with you all the preview for a reality show, and I'm quoting "Review this record, warden, and by record I mean, VAGINA." Oookay.
Enough about television, Maya!

On to music, then. One of my best friends, Joshua Paul Robin, has finished his demo CD. It's SO IMPRESSIVE. I'll force it on all of you at some point or another, don't worry. Done with music. Except I love Sufjan and Beirut.

So it's a "mini friday," (term coined by Dalton T. Stout) and I'm blogging. Sad sad sad. I've been fed, I've rested, I now want out. Take me out? Let's go out.

Yesterday I was taking biology notes and one of the vocab words was TATA box. No joke. Something to do with DNA. Don't remember what, doesn't even matter. Just TATA box.

This is the most random blog I've ever written, and I don't think it's getting any more focused as I go.

For instance, I am naming one of my future daughters Scottie. I don't care if you like that or not. Originally it was going to be Charlie, which I also really like, I guess I like guys names for girls, but then I read Gatsby and found out he named his daughter Scottie, and immediately fell in love with it. It also happens to be perfect considering I loved his book and I'm writing a sequel to it, kind of. And I'm not a crazy bitch that plans out her wedding and all her kids names at like eleven, all I know is Scottie and some variation of Libby, because I promised my mom. That's a different story.

Gonna go sulk my mini Friday out now, bye bye.