Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Whadaya mean you're allergic to peanuts?


I know that people have a little bit of a douche-bag in them at any given time but this is ridiculous.


Kids suck sometimes.


Now kids with allergies are being made fun of? Whatever happened to making fun of the kid in high water pants and calling it a day?


-Ellie-who-can't-tell-people-that-black-olives-make-her-tongue-burn.

So...I'm back. Sorry.


I'm not dead.

There has been a vicious and false rumor that I died. (Spread by myself, naturally.) But I'm here to tell you that this is untrue.

Lets get straight to it. Answers to last post:

1.) The less naughty version of Aerosmith's music video for "Pink." In said video, Joe Perry appears as a centaur.
2.) "The object of the game is simply this: Answer the question or figure out what the frack I'm talking about."
3.) Pollux shines brighter than Castor in the Gemini constellation.
4.) "Stellllaaaaa!!" Is a famous line from "A Streetcar Named Desire," spoken by Marlon Brando.
5.) Monty Python and the Holy Grail is my favorite movie.
6.) This is a quote from Monty Python and the Holy Grail during the scene about the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. In this part of the movie you learn that God said this very long joke to Saint Attila.
7.) Dark Green
8.) Hello people! BASIC INTERNET SAFETY! I can't tell you my full name!
9.) Oh really? That's interesting!
10.) Because I say so.
11.) Listen to "My United States of Whatever" by Liam Lynch. You were throwing dice in the alley.


At least if you hate my blog you can say you learned something.


On a creepier note, I drew the weirdest drawing to date. Luckily, I've uploaded it for you to see.








Isn't that the most inexplicably disturbing drawing ever?


-Ellie "Creepy Sticks" Everdeen.


Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Labor Day Games

I don't mean to compare blogging to the plight of a heroin addict but...

I'VE HAD COLD SWEAT AND SHIVERS ALL WEEK. So now I'm shooting up with a dose of Blogger.com

Okay guys I'm back. You can all get back to your busy lives and stop fasting in protest of my absence.

This Labor Day weekend was sort of mind-blowingly amazing. I went camping with my friends and their families. The festivities included us all having a 3 day long jam session, and me silently weeping into my sleeves at the realization that I am hideously untalented.

But let's be real...no one cares about my weekend. So I am turning the attention back to you lovely people. I've decided to waste your precious time with a game.

The object of the game is simply this: Answer the question or figure out what the frack I'm talking about. Lets Go!

1.) Joe Perry is a sexy centaur. (What the heck am I talkin' about?)

2.) In which sentence in this post did I make a Battlestar Galactica reference?

3.) Which brother-star shines brightest in the Gemini constellation, Castor or Pollux?

4.) "Steelllllllllaaaaa!" (What the heck am I talkin' about?)

5.) Unscramble to find my favorite movie: tnymo hptnoy nda het yolh lgair (P.S. I dont mean to be conceited and talk only of MY favorite things, but I don't know YOUR favorite movie.)

6.) Who did God say this to? "And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three. No more. No less. Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.'"

7.) What color was the little lad wearing in the Berries and Cream Starburst commercial?

8.) Is my name short for Eleanor, Eloise, Elizabeth, Elena, or nothing? (Yeah that's right...I'm including question that you couldn't possibly have the answer to...How do ya like them apples?)

9.) What's your favorite color? (Don't judge me...I like asking questions a third grader would ask.)

10.) Why are cheese-itz so delicious?

11.) What were you doing in the alley when Officer Leroy came up and was, like,
"Hey, I thought I told you..." ???

Okay there you go. Leave your answers in the comment section. Or email me. Whateva.

-Eleanor/Eloise/Elizabeth/Elena/Ellie

If you are pissed that I wasted so much of your time...I am not sorry.

In fact, I am going to post a link to something so amazing that your curiosity will force you to click it and waste even more of your time just to figure out what the heck I'm talking about.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Surf City


Right now I'm at an undisclosed location in Southern California (read: Huntington Beach) and it has come to my attention that I am

1.) Shockingly pale.

2.) Lacking a surfboard

3.) The owner of frizzy normal-people hair instead of glossy beach waves.

Its amazing how you can travel just a few miles and the culture is completely different. I'm waiting for an indie-surfer chick to come and beat me with her woven headband and tell me to get lost.

-Ellie- who-needs-bronzed-sunkissed-skin

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Apples, Apathy, and Life Lessons While Blogging

So I've been blogging and writing articles for Sparklife for a few months now and you'd be surprised at how much you learn about yourself by doing this. Here are just a few of those things.

Note: This is not a stream of consciousness post...I'm not that deep.

1.) I am a stalker. Most bloggers have a sense of pride, dignity, and decorum. I have none of those things, so it is no big deal for me to admit that I obsess over every post I write. On Sparknotes, I practically have every comment on The Ellie Report series memorized. Before I got that series I would run around and scream in happiness each time I was told I was being published. I don't know when I became this crazy but here I am.

2.) Being funny is SO HARD. Getting lucky with a couple posts is one thing, but deliberately putting in the effort to make people laugh every week is harder than I imagined. It's not that its hard to make a joke. The hard part comes in when trying to come up with a creative, interesting idea, and to weave humor throughout a cohesive, readable article. It's easy to make a fart joke; it's hard to make a fart joke 600 words long. It is also becoming clear to me that I have an odd sense of humor. I think its super funny to analyze songs and rip them to shreds, but a lot of people are curious to why I would try to look deeply at the meaning of a pop song. Sometimes the joke works; most times it doesn't. Either way, I LOVE WRITING THEM.

3.) I like swivel chairs. I've written at home, at work, at the coffee shop, and while driving. (I don't recommend the last one.) The place I love to write most is work because of the swivel chairs. Maybe I'm Dr. Evil, but there is nothing more delightful than being able to move in any direction I want, WHENEVER I feel like it. It's a small, but liberating freedom.

4.) No one cares. I don't mean this in a misanthropic way. I just mean that if I tell you that I finally beat Jumpstart 3rd Grade, there's only so much happiness you can have for my small victory before you call me an idiot. By the way, even after 12 years, that's still my favorite game.

5.) Mundane topics become viable writing subjects. When you start looking at things from a writers point of view, you realize how many things there are to write about. (Not that I consider myself a writer. I'm not that conceited. I guess the term "girl with a computer, schizophrenia, and a lot of coffee" is more accurate than "writer.") If you see a girl walking down the street with purple hair and a pet wombat, you instantly have 5 ways you can incorporate her in the essay you're writing. You can easily think of her hair as a metaphor for the breakdown of families in Western Civilization, and her wombat as some sort of physical representation of deforestation. Basically, writing makes it easy to make outrageous leaps of logic with little or no facts. For example: People who eat apples are 35% more likely to die in the Southern Hemisphere. See how easy it is!

6.) When you sleep, you grow by about 8mm (0.3in). The next day you shrink back to your former height. The reason is that your cartilage discs are squeezed like sponges by the force of gravity when you stand or sit. You may be thinking, "Ellie, dear, how does this relate to things you learned while writing?" The answer is this: I started writing this post and then left to google this fact. Then I came back and continued to write. Hence, it is something I learned while writing.

If you hate my enlightening post, at least you can come away saying that you learned something.


So there are a few things that I've learned while blogging. There are a million more things, but people are starting to get pissed that I'm "wasting time and resources" (whatever) so that's all I've got for now.


If you can, make a response post and tell me what you've learned while blogging/vlogging/eating mac and cheese.


-Enlightened Ellie


P.S. Up next: more Blogging the Hunger Games! Unless you hate that I blog that book...then just read the previous sentence without an exclamation.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Ways of the Nerd

There are MANY things I don't understand. The continued success of The Real World for example. Here is just another post about my ignorance.

Let me begin by saying that I love nerds. (I also love making sweeping generalizations about large groups of people.)


From Richie Cunningham to Steve Urkel; I’ll take ‘em all. But there are a few things that my nerd-loves obsess over. I’m here to explore some of these things in an effort to understand them further.

1.) Their Pens – As we know, the term “nerd” is virtually synonymous with “brilliant mind.” Of course, they need a superior writing utensil to get those mental gems on paper. Sure, paying $46.99 for a pen is absurd, but a nerd considers this a small price to pay for scribbling in style.


2.) Their Security – I am more baffled by this than all of the Matrix movies combined, but nerds are infatuated about their security. Everything they own is either password protected or locked in a safe at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. I’m not sure if they’re only hiding video games, or if they’ve come up with some way to use an Orwellian-Big Brother plot to control the masses. Either way, it’s under lock and key and you’d better believe you’ll never see it.

3.) Conspiracy Theories – Extra Terrestrials are coming to harvest humans as fuel. Steve Jobs has implanted subliminal messages in all Macbooks. The government inserts mind-control chips into newborns. Oh yes, nerds spend countless hours speculating about the clandestine goings-on of the world around us. People think they’re crazy, but when grandma is brainwashed into thinking Jersey Shore is a great show, you’ll come crawling back to nerds asking for help.


4.) World of Warcraft – Don’t ask me to explain ANYTHING about this game, because I have no idea. For all I know the entire game is about a bloody battle between fairies and aliens. What I do know is that my popularity-challenged friends are enraptured with this game. Maybe it has some sort of heroin-like effect on them. They feel like they have to come back for more or they’ll erupt in shivers and cold-sweat. Whatever it is, if it came down to World of Warcraft or me…I’d better get ready for rejection.


-Ellie


P.S. What did I miss?

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Blogging The Hunger Games: Part 3

Title: Chapters 4&5
My Title: She's on fire ya'll; ON FIRE!

There is a saying that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. This has nothing to do with this section, but it's a saying nonetheless.


*Blank stares*


This section starts off with Katniss in the train with Peeta (whom I really just want to call Peter; maybe I'll use it as his superhero name), Effie Trinkett: assistant/bumbling idiot, and a delightfully inebriated Haymitch.

When she gets in bed she says that now would be a perfect time to cry about what is happening, but doesn't. Want to know why? Because she has been genetically enhanced to be too sublime for tears. Maybe she's part god like Percy Jackson or Oprah. Or maybe she's a wizard like Harry Potter. Or maybe ThunderKats don't have tear ducts. Either way, I worship her.

The next morning she goes to breakfast with Peeta and Haymtitch already there. Peeta/Peter and ThunderKat start eating like Oprah after quitting a Dr. Oz cleanse...as in, like a starving woolly mammoth. After she eats enough to be obese in a week, she turns to Haymitch and gets down to business. Katniss asks for pointers in the arena of the Hunger Games; what to expect, what to do, that kind of thing. Haymitch, being what I can only imagine as an exact replica of Hugh Laurie's character Dr. House, retorts with, "Here's some advice. Stay alive." It's obvious at this point that Haymitch has no plans to aid the kids on the way to the slaughterhouse.


This doesn't go over well with Katniss and Peeta. People are so testy when faced with mortal danger!


They get so pissed they turn into their alter-egos, ThunderKat and Peter. Peter takes the liquor in Haymitch's hand and throws it to the ground. Peter and Haymitch get into a fist fight. (I just proposed to the book) Then -AND I QUOTE- "When he (Haymitch) turns back to reach for the spirits, I drive my knife into the table between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers." I re-read that sentence forty times, each time with "Eye of the Tiger" from 'Rocky' playing in my head. (Go on, try it.)


This is a protagonist if I've ever seen one. Not once has she talked about clothes, hair, and/or how heartbroken she is after some jerk-off broke up with her behind the quad. Just ghastly acts of assult from this girl. "Eye of the Tiger" is still playing in my head. And I picture her standing on top of a mountain, wind blowing through her hair, and sweeping her aerodynamically engineered cape (that I made for her) from side to side.


I digress.


Haymitch asks himself if he finally has a pair of fighters on his hands. He just met Peter and ThunderKat so I think he can safely assume the answer to that riddle is yes. He asks Katniss if she is competent with throwing the knife at anything besides him. She answers by sending a knife into the wall so hard that it sticks. (BAM. Insta-girl-crush) He doesn't even need to ask Peeta/Peter what he's got to offer. The blood on Haymitch and the bruise on Peeta is answer enough.


When Haymitch realizes that he has Joan of Arc and Bruce Wayne in his presence, he cuts them a deal. If they will do exactly what he says, Haymitch promises to stay sober long enough to help him. (Sort of like earlier today when my mom said she'd give me twenty bucks if I didn't tell people we were related. I wonder what that was about.)


After Katniss and Peeta agree to these terms they stand on the train for a few moments. Suddenly they are in the ruling city of Panem, the Capitol. They have only seen it on television and are stunned by the magnificence of the place that sends kids into the arena with a sword and a slice of beef jerky. Okay, I might have made up the equipment they get. Whatever. The point is the Capitol is pretty flippin' alluring for a town filled with flaming savages. Like Ted Bundy or playing Go Fish. (Everyone knows Go Fish is all fun and games for the first two minutes, until you're in a corner crying about Nana Helen cheating on her "pair" of sixes, which was clearly a six and a nine.) They noticed how different the people were in the Capitol compared to their poor, simple Disrtict 12. They talk about people with abnormal hair colors, painted faces, and ridiculous clothes. The people begin to recognize the train as holding the tributes from District 12. Katniss is sickened by their eagerness to watch them die as televised entertainment. Peeta doesn't move away from the window, but instead waves to them. He says that one of them may be rich. Might as well start winning sponsors now. Katniss realizes this means he hasn't accepted his death. This also means that Peeta is fighting hard to kill her.


It always puts a damper on the romance when the sexy, boy next door wants to spear you.


The next chapter starts with Katniss, already off the train, in the care of the stylists getting basic grooming things done; bathing, waxing, polishing...you get the idea. This is a young adult novel written by a female so I'm not very surprised that there is a make-over scene. (Please, literary gods, let there be a flamboyant male stylist with frosted tips and guy-liner in the next few pages.) After the assistant stylist are finished with the basics, they call in the main stylist.


*Crosses fingers for Eugene and his leather pants*


We meet the stylist who turns out to be a young man named Cinna. He is not at all like the sassy man-stylist I pictured, but is pensive and kind. It is Cinna's first year in the Games and he has a heart for friendship and an eye for style. I guess he would be Hugh Dancy in Prada platforms.


It's funny that people get all beautified to do interviews before entering an arena with contestants more similar to wild bulls than teenagers. I suppose its similar to how people make their Thanksgiving turkeys look so amazing. We like to devour attractive things.


After being consulted with and waxed within an inch of her life, she takes a food break and talks to Cinna. He turns out to be a decent guy, even remarking that the people of the Capitol must be despicable to her. Seeing as he is from the Capitol, this is an amazing and dangerous thing to admit. Sort of like being a producer for the Oprah Show and telling someone that you hate the Queen of all Media herself. (I'm convinced she would not be convicted if she chose to kill someone. At least I'd be too terrified to give her a 'guilty' verdict.)


All this styling is in preparation to ride in a parade with all the tributes as sort of a "Welcome To the Final Moments of Your Life" celebration. Remember that the rulers of Panem are gargantuan douche bags who make everyone act like this is all a huge honor. (Can we say, "Orwell?")


It turns out that Cinna is a genius and thinks out his style-creations so well that it has the effect of making people feel the way he wants them to. He dresses both Katniss and Peeta in black unitards and boots. Pretty simple right? No! He also gives them a circlet/tiara and cape. (Ha! He's on board with the cape idea also! Maybe Katniss threw a knife for Cinna and he realized how BA she is. The he probably gave her the cape. And a moose-head as a trophy. Just guessing.) Here's the thing: when Cinna gives the go ahead, a synthetic flame lights the headpiece and cape.


She has a crown of fire?


SHE HAS A CROWN OF FIRE!!!


AND A CAPE OF FIRE!!!


I'm so awestruck by how stupendous the events of this book are that I go take a break to calm myself down.


After I am no longer plum-flustered by the crown of fire, *excited giggle* I put my 'ThunderKat for president' screen tee back on and continue reading.


ThunderKat and Peeta are put on display for everyone to see and the crowd is just as enamored by them as I was. Through this whole ordeal Peeta is kind and supportive to Katniss. He holds her hand in comfort and acts as if they are a team. He seems so generous that a warning bell goes off in Katniss' head. She reminds herself that this sweet, caring boy is planning to kill her. Much like when you look at a haunted house and realize that this brick-full-o'-fun is actually full of people hired expressly to make you wet your pants.


She sees through what she believes to be Peeta's sugar-coated disguise, and decides two can play this game. She reaches up and kisses his cheek. Right on his bruise.


Oh no she didn't!


In conclusion, in two chapters she manages to threaten people's lives with a knife, get in a fight, make a game plan to kill everyone in her path, wear a crown and cape of FIRE, double-cross the boy who saved her life, and do it all while lookin' like a stone cold fox.


Did I leave anything out?


Prediction: Peeta is so amazed by Katniss that he tries to engage her in a bloody, "star-crossed lovers" affair.


Peeta: "Hey sweet cheeks! Uh *cough* I mean Katniss. Thanks for meeting me on the roof. I couldn't help but notice that you stabbed that hipster walking past you the other day. He wasn't even bothering you!"

Katniss: *shrugs* "Yeah, what of it?"

Peeta: "Well...I thought it was amazing. I love how you have no regard for human life. You're like Megan Fox and the entire cast of 'Kill Bill' all wrapped into one. I was just wondering if you'd like to...um...well...you know...shoot some bunnies and then make out for a bit?"

Katniss: "Okay, but you know I'm gonna have to throat-punch you first, right? I have a reputation to protect..."

Peeta: "Why, of course, Love-Bottom! I wouldn't have it any other way!"


-Ellie



Monday, August 2, 2010

Ellie's Got MORE Talent


I haven't given up. I know that you, along with most of the continental US, wishes I had, but I haven't. I'm still on the quest to be a multi-talented son-of-a-gun.

A month or two ago I wrote a post called "Ellie's Got Talent." (I would post a link to it but I have no idea how.) In said post, my readers learn that I am a frazzled, (is that a word?) talent-less mess. But fear not. I am here to say that no matter how pathetic the universe proves that I am, there is always room for more failure.

Huh? That doesn't sound right, does it?

Anyway I'm here to brief you on the goings-on of my talent quest. Don't you love the word 'quest?' It makes everything sound so much more noble.

Here we go again.

1. Dancer - Ballet, hip-hop, tango, and salsa. You name it, I tried it. I thought I was on to something with dancing because I love it so much. My reasoning was that my pure, unadulterated love for gettin' my groove on would give me an edge. Sort of like how all those contestants on American Idol think that because they love singing in their shower that they have the chops to be recording artists. To put it mildly, both me and those contestants need to find a new dream. I was the William Hung of the dancing world. There are few things in life that are as embarrassing as trying to bump and grind while looking as if you are seizing. But I will say this: what I lacked in know-how I made up for with enthusiasm.

2. Artist. Thus far we have only discussed my failures, but I have some good news. This one wasn't so bad. This is mostly because you could saw a car in half, fill it with boiled eggs and call it art. I went to Michael's Craft Supplies and got loads of paint. I also got little paintable keepsake boxes. I went about my work of painting them for my friends. I kept my painting subjects light and happy. You know, like dead trees and starving kittens. I don't think they got the message of my art. (The message being 'At least you're not a dead tree or starving kitten.') But other than that, my paintings were a smashing success. I had a ton of fun putting on my Lucille Ball apron and messing up my mothers dining room table. My friends said they were "odd," but I'm sure by "odd" they meant "wicked cool."

3. Hair Stylist. This one was my personal favorite. As I have said before, I am a swirling vortex of curls and frizz. But not in a cool, trendy, hipster way. (Note: Never trust hipsters. If they're wearing skinny pants and a Fedora, walk away.) Its more reminiscent of Cher in Moonstruck. I tried my best to make myself into a walking Herbal Essence commercial. I didn't go as I planned. I murdered my hair and had to hack six inches off. (Not lying even one bit.) It is not only obnoxiously curly but now it is also taking on the shape of an Afro.

4. Hipster. Yup, I sure did tell yup not to trust 'em. Yup, I'm a hypocrite. I think we all need to go through this phase to get all the jack*** out of our systems. For three days I wore skin tight pants, plaid shirts, Fedora hats, studded belts, and pretended to listen to bands no ones heard of. In the afternoon I would take something written by Hemingway and and sit at Starbucks with an overpriced soy-something-or-other. I would contemplate the breakdown of society using Lady Gaga as evidence. Let me tell you, being a tool is EXHAUSTING. I definitely failed at this one and I'm glad I did.

These are the four things I tried this time. Tell me some things you think I should try out for next time!

-Ellie

P.S. What are your guys' talents or hobbies?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Fear

Think back to when you were seven years old. Your stupid aunt Kathy would ask you the same question every time she came to visit: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Some kids say astronaut. Some say firefighter. Some say "Corporate Shareholder in a Fortune 500 company." For the most part I said that I didn't know. When stupid aunt Kathy (yes, "stupid" is actually apart of her name) insisted that I give a real answer then I would shoot out the first thing I thought would shut her up. Doctor. Judge. Ballerina. You get the picture.

As you grow up you start to get a picture of yourself. Your decisions in life shape who you turn out to be. As time goes on you start to get closer and closer to knowing what you don't want to be. But the ever elusive answer to the question stupid aunt Kathy used to ask me is still unknown. Maybe she was right to start questioning me all those years ago, because here I am, about to sail out of adolescence and I still have no idea. Should we go ahead and blame stupid aunt Kathy for my over analyzing and paranoia?

Stupid aunt Kathy you B!%&@#! Thanks for setting me up for another 20 years of psychosis.

I hate her.

Where were we?

Ah yes, we were discussing my quarter-life crisis.

Anyway, I'm experiencing what many other people my age are going through: The Fear. The Fear is the state of mind that burrows itself deep in the freaking cerebellum when you realize that people expect you to be a grown up now. Between thinking about school, work, bills, housing, relationships, insurance, and general life-coping skills, I start to panic and wonder how bad sleeping in my parents basement for the next thirty years could really be. My uncle Paul did it and he turned out just fine. He only went to prison a couple of times!

I think back to that the question stupid aunt Kathy used to ask me and my answer hasn't changed in the last 13 years. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

At least I"ve still got spunk.

-Ellie

P.S. I just realized that this whole post is reminiscent of a certain graduation speech given in a recent movie. I guess confusion is a rampant theme in young adult life.


P.S.S. I know exactly what you're feeling after reading this. I think Rhett Butler said it best: "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Blogging The Hunget Games: Part 2 (B)

I know that, for the most part, I like to kid around. I'm the girl who makes a (crappy) joke when she has just fallen out of a tree and broken her arm. And I won't disappoint! I will deliver badly timed, wanna-be comedy, in about 3 1/2 minutes. But before we get to it....

These chapters brought up some interesting questions about love and sacrifice. Katniss' plight in this book really makes you think. She will gladly give up her life in exchange for her sister Prim's. But what about the rest of the stuff she has to do?

If someone asked you, "Would you die for your little sister?" what would you say? Being an older sister myself, I would say, "That's a stupid question. So how do you wanna do this? Should I close my eyes or what? Also, can you tell Alice that if I'm gonna die for her, I request that "A Pocket Full of Sunshine" by Natasha Beddingfield be played at my funeral? You know, for irony's sake!"

But what if someone said, "Would you kill innocent people for your little sister?"

I'm not exactly saying no, but I would definitely hesitate. Where's the line? At what point is the sacrifice for someone you love too great? At one person? Two? Ten? I would literally walk through hell itself for my sister. But what about someone else's little sister? Somewhere out there, there is a girl who loves her little sister as much as I love mine. Would I be willing to kill the object of someone else's love to keep mine intact? And say that my answer to that last question was yes. How many people's little sisters would I be willing to harm before it was too much?

When does Alice's life stop being the most important thing to consider? Does that point even exist?

In our society -well all of them really- we place a great deal of importance on the individual versus the whole. Each life is not equal. The worth of a life is in the eye of the beholder.

So how many lives is your loved one worth?

Blogging The Hunger Games: Part 2


Chapters 2&3
Title: "Suzanne, You Beeaach, You Lied To Me"

Dear Suzanne,
First of all, let me just say that I'm a huge fan! Second, What the heck were you thinking? How could you lie to me like that? I was all ready for Prim to go into the Hunger Games since we don't really need her. Then, Katniss was supposed to use her powers of sabotage and subterfuge (and possibly x-ray vision) to destroy to entire Capitol. Now I'm stuck reading a chapter that keeps making my dog cry. (I certainly did not leave that puddle of tears on my pillow.) Don't get me wrong, you're still a genius, and are poised to become the next Author-Turned-Billionaire. Next time, though, kill off the right person.

Thanks-a-million,
Ellie


So this part of the book starts off with Katniss realizing that Prim's name has been called to enter the competition as a tribute. The chances were I in a million but it happened. ThunderKat pushes her little sister back and runs up in her place as a volunteer. She, in essence, volunteers to die for her sister. The lump in my throat becomes so large that I need to hear Miley Cyrus say that she is "Deeper than most people," to get myself laughing again.


Noooooooooooooooooooo! Katniss don't go. Just get a bow and arrow and slaughter all your foes right here, right now! I can't believe this is happening. I haven't been this sad since they killed off Charlie on Lost.

Since the Capitol forces everyone to treat this as an honor and not a Death March, it is customary that the crowd claps after a tribute is chosen. The crowd, though, is dead silent. It's a silent move that says that what is happening to the girl in front of them is wrong. That they don't condone it. Then, in her own words, "...a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place...At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It's an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally used at funerals. It means thanks. It means admiration. It means goodbye to someone you love."

Uh, can you hold on a second? My face seems to be leaking. I don't think this is normal. All the leakage just drowned my basement. Crying? No! I just have spastic tear ducts; its a medical condition!

After I picked myself off of the ground, quieted my sobs, and finished my second round of "Hush Little Baby," I continued reading.

They announce the male tribute and it's Peeta Mellark. Yes, he has a stupid name. Yes it's joining Katniss and Chip on the "Names I Like Less Than Spot But More Than Gunther" list. But I'll give him a chance.

Katniss doesn't know him well, but recognizes him for a kindness he showed her when they were younger. Once, when Katniss was about to starve to death, she was rummaging through the trash cans behind the bakery. The Baker's wife told her to get lost. But the Baker's son, Peeta, burned two large loaves of bread on purpose so he would be told to give them to the pig. He was beaten badly for his "clumsiness" but that enabled him to feed Katniss and keep her alive. *Que a round of 'Awwwwws'* She never got to say thank you and didn't think the words would be appropriate now that she was going to try to slit his throat.

Ah, a book where you must die in place of your sissy poo while simultaneously trying to kill the reason you're alive. Good Times! I'm glad the subject matter isn't too deep!

This book is the shiz...and by the shiz, I mean it's awesomesauce...and by awesomesauce, I mean it's bombtastic...and by bombtastic, I mean it's on a groove train to Razzle Dazzle City. I'm thinking about drawing the cover of the book on my forehead in Crayola marker to represent my commitment to the book. (Which is, strong and slightly embarrassing, but not permanent.) That or decorating my room in weaponry and animal corpses. It's a little macabre, but it's so Katniss. I looove that Ms. Collins made our protagonist a killer of fuzzy creatures. She had me at "bow and arrow."


Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the local Sheriff's Department and YMCA and explain why my sudden interest in archery is in no way connected to the random attack of the school bully via arrow.


Prediction: I still hold to my last prediction that Katniss learns she has super powers and that she kicks the peacekeepers in the groins using a roundhouse kick that would made Chuck Norris wince.


-Ellie


P.S. If you're thinking of bringing up to your Barista that the reason she's writing Katniss on your cup is because you're honorarily named after the girl "who shoots bunnies in the eye," she may or may not call resteraunt security. Or undercover task-force. Whatevs.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Blogging The Hunger Games: Part 1

So as you may have guessed from the title, I will be blogging my way through The Hunger Games. I haven't smelled this kind of fervor since Twilight graced us with it's stench. So, as it is about to be a pop culture phenomenon, I figured I would use The Hunger Games as my next blogging adventure.

My thoughts before reading: Last time someone told me I was in for "an amazing book" they handed me a gigantic book about touching faces with an old, cold, homicidal man. Needless to say I have my doubts about this.
Also, this girl has my last name. So, if she turns out to be cool I can tell people we're sisters. (Nobody will think that it's weird, don't worry.) Is it just me, or does she have kind of a stupid name? That's okay, I have a friend named Chip.

Hey Chip! I think we found someone to bump you down to number two on the "Names that I like less than Spot but more than Gunther" list.

With that in mind, lets press on. Shall we?

Part 1- "The Tributes"
Chapter 1- Well look at that, they don't have titles! Should I make one up? Okay then:
"Katniss 'ThunderKat' Everdeen."

At the start of the book we are introduced to a girl who, doesn't say her name yet, but I assume is Katniss Everdeen. She says she has one sister named Primrose (Her name isn't going on the list, I like it) and a mom. She gets up from bed and the first thing she does is put on her hunting boots.

Whoa! Stop everything! In the last cultural phenomenon novel I read, the first thing the heroine did after getting out of bed was whine about the green, leafy plants that plagued the view from her window. But Katniss is waking up...and preparing to KILL ASSORTED LIFE FORMS? Oh. My. God. Hey Katniss! Um can I call you Kat? Wanna be best friends? If you promise not to kill me, I'll let you win at Super Mario Brothers. I'm willing to do that because I already know that you are wicked awesome.

The next four paragraphs show me that not only am I in for a good story but that my new life ambition is to become Katniss Everdeen. Of course, i say this because I'm comparing it the the last cultural phenomenon novel (which will now be abbreviated to LCPN). In the LCPN, 4 paragraphs taught me that the heroine (if you can call it that) whines. A lot. In four paragraphs with this girl I learn:
In paragraph 1: She hunts
In paragraph 2: She sneaks, ILLEGALLY, under an electrified fence.
In paragraph 3: Her dad died in a mine explosion and now, I'm assuming, she does all the hunting in his place.
In paragraph 4: Her weapon is a bow and arrow.

Maybe you didn't hear me. She kills things with a freaking BOW AND ARROW. I just KNEW Legolas had a long lost sister. She might as well be a Silvan Elf. Why doesn't this book just go on forever?

Okay so she goes out hunting on a day called "The Reaping." She meets her friend Gale in the woods and they start hunting together. Gale, as it turns out, is just as awesome as Katniss. They both hunt to feed their families and take care of business. It is at this point where I started making them capes to wear. After hunting and trading their kill on the black market at a place called The Hobb, they both go home. (If this girl gets any more BA I think the book will be too hot to hold.)

Right before this happens, though, we learn some more details about life in The Seam. Apparently they are so poor that you can trade a tessara of grain in exchange for having your name entered into the drawing for what I assume is the Hunger Games more than it already is. Katniss, who supports her whole family, has her name in 20 times and Gale has his in 42. I guess this is bad. Worse than Heidi Montag's new face.

Yada yada yada they go to the reaping yada yada yada. Then the history of the Hunger Games is read and things get juicy. The Sparknotes version is that there was once 13 districts in the country Panem, ruled from the Capitol. But the rulers were Douche bags so the thirteenth district tried to rebel. Then the Capitol was like, "Oh no you didn't beeyotches," and had them annihilated. So now, since the Capitol has control issues, they make each district send one boy and one girl to participate in The Hunger Games. Over several weeks all 24 kids must participate in a fight to the death. Last person to not get slaughtered, wins.

Oh my. This book is too legit to quit. I just gave it it's own spot on my bed. And a plush new book cover. I wonder if I should sing to it. It deserves a parade.

On the last page, I expect Katniss to be called. I'm about to snicker at the predictability of an otherwise mind-blowing first chapter. I get ready to give myself a pat on the back, but then it shocks me.

They call her little sister, Primrose Everdeen.

Suzanne, you saucy minx! You had me fooled! I thought Katniss was going!

At first I thought, whatevs; someones gotta die. Might as well be the one who doesn't traverse the district, brandishing a bow and arrow (whilst flying?). But then I thought about it. Kat (Again, can I call you Kat) loves her sis more than anything. Kat described her as an angel and as being only 12. I've also decided that she looks like Dakota Fanning in "I Am Sam." What if it were my sister?

My heart just fell through my butt.

So in review:
Bleak dystopian setting...check.
Upcoming bloodbath...check.
BA heroine with BA weapons...check.
Box of Wheat Thins...check

Prediction: Katniss dons her homemade cape and decides enough is enough. She takes her bow and arrow and kills every Peace Keeper in sight. Somehow, her awesomeness permeates the air and Robocop and the Green Lantern Corps show up to defeat the Capitol. The peacekeepers now participate in the Hunger Games. Katniss learns that she can shape shift/fly/see through walls.

-Ellie

P.S. I'm so glad I made these capes in an aerodynamic fashion. Im getting almost no wind-drag while running down the street. I wish my neighbors would put their phones down and stop looking at me so suspiciously. Do you hear sirens?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

We've All Been There


It happens to the best people. They do nice things all day and expect for karma to give them a pat on the back when they get home at night. But no. Karma is on vacation, so that nice person is in for a craptastic evening.

The set up is always the same. The girl gets in bed after a long day and gets ready for the sleep fairy to pay her a visit. She gets under her over-priced blanket and starts to anticipate all of the lovely dreams she will have. But all is not well in Beddy-Bye-Land. Because something bad will happen in 3...2...1.

Our heroine realizes she is thirsty.

I know, right? But it doesn't stop there. Right as she decides to live with being thirsty, she realizes that her lips are chapped.

Now here she sits on her bed, thirsty and chapped.

She has two options:
1) Cave into her more lazy impulses and continue to be fantastically uncomfortable for the next 8 hours
OR
2) Get her bottom out of bed and go to the kitchen.

Don't you just hate being stuck between a rock and a hard place?

-Ellie

P.S. Fun Fact: Whenever you are super thirsty in the middle of the night, NOTHING quenches your thirst like a tall glass of Orange Juice.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The Ellie Report: I Have A Panic Attack


Get ready to tinkle in your pants...Sparknotes gave me a series.

THEY GAVE ME A SERIES.

It's called The Ellie Report. At first I was so excited that I could barely stand it. I jumped and danced and skipped and ate pie until my stomach imploded from excitement and berry preservatives. I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, "Self, darling, you are one funny bada#$. You are going to be a blogging superstar. Dan Bergstein will gravel at your feet. Maybe you'll even be as funny as Chelsea Dagger or Auntie Sparknotes. Give yourself a pat on the back kid, you're in the big leagues now."

And then reality set in. Who am I kidding? I can't do this. How the hecksicles am I going to come up with creative articles ALL THE TIME. What if nobody thinks I'm funny or helpful or talented at all?! Everybody is going to rip me to SHREDS. And then Chelsea Dagger is going to have to make up a story about how the area of my brain that makes me even remotely interesting was severed in a giraffe attack, so she had to cancel my series. Then I will weep. And people will rejoice in my suffering. And I will give away my computer because, CLEARLY, I'm not qualified to come near it anymore.

After seriously considering emailing them that I had changed my mind, and to forget about the whole thing, I got a grip of myself. I wasn't as optimistic as I initially was, but I also wasn't on the brink of jumping off of a cliff. I found a more realistic way of viewing things.

I'm just going to keep doing what I love and hope people like it as well. I'm not sure if I can manage to be funny or interesting all the time but I'm going to do my best. If I fail, at least i can say I gave it everything I had. I know that I didn't find a cure for cancer, convince Jake Gyllenhaal to marry me, or finally control my mane of frizzy hair. But, this does mean a lot to me. I LOOOOVE writing so much that it's inappropriate. It's therapeutic and makes me feel like I'm at home in something. Writing is such a beautiful way of expressing yourself. It's amazing to think that by simply having an idea, you can put the right combination of words together and make people laugh, cry, or more likely, hate you.

Now that I sound like Earnest Hemingway's less cool cousin, I'll make my exit.

-Ernie Hemingway

P.S. I know that a serious blog like this is a change of pace, but I thought it might be nice to have a panic attack with you guys around to read about it.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

How to Make an Ellie Pie

Ellie Pie for Beginners

Prep Time: 15 Minutes
Cook Time: 35 Minutes

Ingredients

2 Cups of Failure
3 Cups of Awkward Moments
4 Ounces of Hyperactivity
3 Chopped Sticks of Disappointed Hopes
1/2 Cup of Bad Taste in Music
2 Teaspoons of Corny Jokes
1 Pint of Mediocrity
3 Eggs
Pinch of Salt
2 Five-Ounce Cans of Your Favorite Berries.

Instructions

Preheat oven to 375 Degrees Fahrenheit.

In a large bowl mix the Failure, Awkward Moments, and Bad Taste in Music. Stir vigorously. Add in Hyperactivity and Corny Jokes. Let stand for five minutes.

In a separate bowl add Disappointed Hopes, Mediocrity, and Eggs. Add mixture to the first bowl. Stir. Add in Eggs, Salt, and Berries. Frizzy Hair and Big Teeth are optional.

Take mixture and dump it into the pie crust. Throw that sucker in the oven for half an hour. Let cool for 10 minutes.

Enjoy.

-Ellie




Friday, June 18, 2010

Let me Reintroduce Myself: 10 Things I Hate About You

Okay, you're about to experience a case of Deja Vu. This was my very first post, but I figured that nobody would have read my first post; hence, me re-posting it.

Look at any 90's teen flick. The set up is always the same. There's always the pretty girl, with lots of friends, an in-it-to-win-it attitude, and beautiful shiny hair. Then, somehow, the said "it" girl had a socially awkward best friend who's sanity was in question. Well, I'm that second girl. Don't get me wrong...I look normal on the outside (I think), but I can geek it up with the best of 'em. That ridiculously awesome person (who will end up marrying an oil tycoon, write a children's book, and find a cure for cancer) is Alice, my sister and best friend. In the aforementioned 90's flick the shiny-haired heroine is on the brink of awesome-ness. She gets invited to all the cool parties and drags along the un-cool best friend...which is not unlike what is happening here. The dorky girl has no idea how to party, and I have no idea how to blog. Actually I don't know how to party either but we'll get to that later. So I'm just going to do this my way. (Somewhere Alice is shuddering).



Fact 1.) My name is Ellie Everdeen. You can call me Ellie Everdeen.


Fact 2.) Alice is my best friend and sister. You probably guessed that already. (If you haven't that means you didn't understand me the first time I said it...and that would make you an idiot...in which case you should stop reading...and go away.) I will be talking about her a lot in this blog.


Fact 3.) I sincerely wish that I had theme music playing around me at all times. Preferably it would change with my mood. If my life up until this point were put to song, I'm pretty sure it would be "Beverly Hills" by Weezer.



Fact 4.) Monty Python and the Holy Grail is the best movie ever made. Closely followed by The Princess Bride. Don't argue with me.



Fact 5.) I have an unhealthy obsession with Disney Movies. Why go out and party when you could be home watching Pocahontas?


Fact 6.) For the most part I enjoy books more than people.


Fact 7.) Alice and I both do not enjoy stupid nicknames that others may find funny or amusing. Do not call her Alice Cullen and do not call me Smelly Ellie. No ones laughing.


Fact 8.) Alice and I are closer than most sisters. Which also means we fight. A lot. Some may say, "You guys fight too much." But like we always say, It's not fighting until someone's on the ground.


Fact 9.) I'm exaggerating on that last one...or am I?


Fact 10.) 15 percent of Americans secretly bite their toes. This means that 15 out of every 100 people you come in contact with are less civilized than chimps. So whenever someone really pisses you off you can always think to yourself, "They're probably one of the 15...the savage." Bet you feel better right? Yeah, you're welcome.

Okay, that's all you need to know (all I'm gonna tell you) for now. It's nice to meet you.

*In my best Kanye impression* Ellie OUT!

P.S. No, I don't understand the picture either.

How to Stand Out in College


*note: I don't know how copyright laws work exactly, but everything here was taken from community.sparknotes.com. This is just a weak shadow of that completely amazing site.
So in case you missed it, here is my article on college life posted yesterday on Sparklife's College Advisor. Be warned...there's very few useful tips in here. Okay enough introductions, here we go!

A ton of us wonderful Sparklers are on our way to college and off to change the world. A new generation of doctors, lawyers, and pastry chefs is in the making. But millions of other young adults are doing the same thing, so how are we supposed to stand out in the crowd? Here are some (mostly ridiculous) ways to shine.


1. Run for a position in student government. Campaign like a madman/madwoman/rabid bear. Employ jugglers, elephants, and fire-breathing clowns. Even if you lose, you'll always be remembered for riding into the dining hall on a bedazzled tiger.

2. Cultivate a bangin' wardrobe. Show up to English 101 in your favorite outfit: a sombrero, a hot dog costume, and 70s style platform disco shoes. Or, show up each day in full Voldemort garb.

3. Have a passion for Spanish, mashed potatoes, or Star Wars? Join the club. Literally. Universities have hundreds of organizations available to students, and the more you become involved, the more chances you have to show off. If you're an individualist, start a club dedicated to your dean's completely legit handlebar mustache.

4. Many of us love to read and write anyway (as evidenced by the thousands of SparkLife posts we submit each day), so why not get into journalism? Become a columnist for the school newspaper; everyone will know your name after they read your hard-hitting expose on de-pulping orange juice.

5. Set up crusades for unexpected things. Anyone can protest the wasteful consumption of finite natural resources, but only you can start a grassroots movement supporting the use of mushrooms in the cafeteria's spaghetti sauce.

6. Be yourself. Chances are that if you're reading a SparkLife article, you're already awesome! Smile, be brave, and stay true to your beliefs, and people are bound to love you! Unless you're dressed like Voldemort. Then, not so much.

-Ellie

Friday, June 11, 2010

Memories


School's a lot like toilet paper; you don't miss it till its gone.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

How to Ditch Summertime Chores

Summertime is upon us; which means, gone are the days of stress, alarms, and studying. Summer is a time of casual reading, swimming, sleeping until noon, and living off of cold pizza. Who needs to wake up and shower when you can keep sleeping for another 14 hours?


But if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.


After an exhausting day of surfing the web, napping, and playing video games, your parents finally arrive home. You are mystified by their anger upon seeing unmade beds, unwashed dishes, and uncut grass. You realize that they actually expect you to be…productive. OF ALL THE NERVE! Don’t they realize that the magic of summer vanishes when asked to do any sort of real work?

Here are a few ways to get out of doing those pesky chores.


1.) Fake an Illness. Ah, the good ol’ “Sorry mom, I was sick” trick. An oldie-but-goodie. But I’m not talking about the second-grade-style faking a cold act. You have to commit. It will also take some acting skills. Place your head above a pot of hot water (be careful) to make your head warm and clammy. Stay in the bathroom while your parents are nearby and make the sounds of explosive diarrhea. This is no time for shame people! This is the difference between being grounded or not!

2.) Fake a Sunburn. This is similar to number 1, but much more fun. Get darkly pigmented cream or whipped blush from the drugstore. (Red-dye will work also but it’s a much longer commitment.) Apply liberally. Stand stiffly in front of them and tell them you couldn’t move around. Retire to your room and re-read your favorite series.


3.) Negotiate. Now is the time to recreate your favorite scenes from Celebrity Apprentice.

You: Listen up Pop, if you turn the other cheek to the moldy dishes, I’ll make sure our annoying neighbor wakes up to a car covered in eggs.
Dad: Excuse me?
You: I know he’s been complaining about us dad. I can make that all go away…
Dad: Are you trying to bribe me with illegal favors?
You: “Bribe with illegal favors” is such an ugly term. I prefer to think of it more as “gettin’ the job done.”

4.) Flattery. Sucking up to your parents is one of the easier options. If you’re a good liar, this one’s for you.

You: Why father, you handsome devil, are you home already? My, my, have you been working out? Your beer-gut is looking awfully trim today. And your nose hair! I can’t even see it from way over here. I bet all the middle age ladies at work just can’t keep their hands off of you! Mom better watch out. A stud like you can’t be tamed.
Dad: Aw thanks son, here’s fifty dollars.


5.) Pretend to be Doing More Important Things.
You: Oh, hey mom! Sorry about the weeds in the backyard eating your poodle. I was just so caught up in reading about the many diseases attacking humankind, and I decided I wanted to do something about it. I’ve decided to become a doctor to find a cure for *insert fake disease here* and buy you a Porsche.


If you master these, you’ll be back to playing Xbox in no time at all.

Touché


This comment was left to me on my "Ellie Pinocchio Everdeen" Post.

Alice: "Ellie. Boy can I relate to this post. I'm not just saying that because we have the same parents... Wait, yes I am. Mine IS a little more angsty then yours is though. Parents can be ridiculous most of the time but who wouldn't be having to raise two children. Diapers, crying, and yelling can turn any semi-sane being to a psychopath warlord. Just sayin."

To that I say: True. Very True.

-Ellie

Ellie's Got Talent

I'm useless. I contribute nothing to the world.

I came to this realization when my younger sister fixed my dads computer, and proceeded to write her own music when she was done. I had to admit (begrudgingly) that the computer worked perfectly and her music sounded amazing. The next day we learned that she was one of the top four graduating seniors in her school. The day after that she, once again, displays that she has the best sense of direction of anyone I know. She is her own personal Mapquest. I'm surrounded by people with talent coming from their ears. They sing, dance, play sports, display their mathematical genius, and cook like gourmet chefs.

And then there's me.

Last time I tried to dance, I sprained my ankle. When I was singing loudly in my room, my mom ran in and asked me why I was screaming and if I needed to go to the hospital. I wasn't allowed to use the stove alone until I was 17, because so many things would end up on fire. And I am so pathetically clumsy, a tennis racket becomes a weapon in my hands. No exaggeration. So I'm on a quest to find myself a talent. You can come with me on that journey if you would like.

Here are my efforts so far.

1. Juggling. Okay, I know this doesn't really coincide with my clumsiness, but I figured it was work a shot. As it turns out...no, it was not worth a shot. I was pathetic, and by the time I was done I was also injured. And in hindsight, I shouldn't have used eggs.

2. Dog Whisperer. After watching The Dog Whisperer, I thought to myself, "I can do that!" In fact, no. I tried for hours to get my dog to listen to me. My efforts to get my German Shepard to roll over, ended with a look from her that could only be interpreted as, "You are seven shades of stupid." At that point I agreed.

3. Comedian. I tried to integrate comedy into all my conversations, but as it turns out, I'm about as funny as Infectious diseases. That is, not even the tiniest fraction. Apparently,
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Banana"
"Banana who?"
"Banana"
"Banana who?"
"Banana"
"Banana who?!"
"Orange"
"Orange who?"
"Orange you glad I didn't say, 'Banana?'"

...stopped being funny in first grade.

4. Make-up Artist. This didn't really work out in my favor. I thought I looked okay, but when I went downstairs, my mother asked why I looked like a prostitute. At first I thought, "at least I have a specific look, right?!" But I thought about it for 37 seconds and realized that being asked how much I cost an hour is not a good thing by any means.

So after two days, I still have noting that resembles a talent whatsoever. I'll keep working on it, and keep you all informed of my progress. If you have anything that I can try out, leave it in the comments.

-No-talent-Ellie

Monday, June 7, 2010

Question


I'm so car-sick that I can feel the nausea up to my earlobes. Hell itself could not be much worse than this.

Do you guys get car-sick?

-Almost-Dead-Ellie

Friday, June 4, 2010

Ellie Pinocchio Everdeen

I'm a liar. A bold-face liar.

Here's why:

This whole ridiculous situation started with my phone. I lost the wretched thing. I don't have a strong bond with my cell phone as it is so this is not the first time I've lost it and left it uncharged. The contract for it is under my parents name because, at the time, I was not old enough to buy my own legally. But since then I started earning my keep and paying my own bills. So if I lose something I pay for, you'd think it would be no big deal right?

Wrong.

My mom (bless her heart) asked me if I knew where my phone was. I remembered leaving it on the counter behind the sink so I said, "yup, sure do." I went about the rest of my day in utter bliss.

Then my mom came home today. Remember those pictures of Russian Czars; the austere "I'm about to behead you" look? Well, I was on the receiving end of that look not to long ago. It would have been terrifying if I weren't just as stubborn as she was.

Needless to say I was accused of being a liar. (Which was extremely bothersome considering I have a spotless reputation...I've never given a cause for complaint, except maybe a 50 cent library fee.) I honestly couldn't fathom the reason for so much upset. I've told them plenty of times that I don't want them to buy me things and that I don't mind paying for my own stuff. But in her eyes I was a criminal. (This is not a hyperbole...she works in law enforcement. In her eyes, all liars deserve to be locked in a cell.)

Later my old man said that I should go down and apologize for lying and tell the truth.
I explained that 1.) I didn't lie. 2.) It doesn't really matter if lost my phone...I work to pay for it. 3.) I don't feel the need to justify myself; I know I didn't lie and that's good enough for me. 4.) She wouldn't believe me even if I did tell the truth, it would only sound like I was trying to get myself out of trouble. I don't believe in giving excuses. 5) I am not, in any way, sorry.

After I said all this (respectfully, of course...no need to get anyone else upset at me) he really had nothing to say back. Before he could come up with something else to throw at me, I said I would go down stairs and apologize just to keep the peace. The thought of what I was doing was so repulsive that I had to work to keep the grimace off of my face. After being wrongfully accused of lying, I was about to tell the only lie in the whole situation.

I looked her in the face and lied smoothly with the words, "I still haven't found my phone. I'm very sorry for lying in the first place." The truth would have been something along the lines of, "I'm not sorry at all, and I have no patience for mood swings. I told you what I thought was the truth, and I don't see how me losing my own property is any of your concern in the first place. To be frank, I'm pleased to have cause you a small ounce of the upset that you terrorize us with each day." (Yes, yes, it's very petty. It's also the truth.)

You can see how the truth could have ended badly.

I don't mean any of this an angsty, "I hate my folks" kind of way. I'm not really even upset, and the whole thing makes me laugh when I think of all the people I know getting kicked out of the for doing drugs. I'm just saying what happened.

So here's my question(s): Would you lie, and make yourself look bad, just to keep the peace? Is lying for that reason wrong? At what point is telling the truth the wrong thing to do?

-Ellie

P.S. This post is obviously a little different that what I normally put up. But I figure, my blog...anything goes.

P.P.S. You're perfectly within your rights to call me a lying skunk. Please don't hate me forever though.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

A Day in the Life of a Disgruntled Misanthrope

For the most part, I could safely say that I'm a happy-go-lucky person. I love puppies, rainbows, and sunshine. When I'm a bored I bake cookies for the elderly people I know and do the laundry for my mom. My dreams mostly consist of buying other people presents.

But not today.

Today is one of those days where you just want to shoot the sun for being so gosh-darn bright. As I look at a happy couple holding hands, I dream of them in a vicious break up. (Ideally, it would involve infidelity). Today sucks with a vengeance. Want to know what a day of being a pessimistic mathematician is like? Well, here you go.

9:00 am - Pull into summer job and dream of the day when you quit with a strongly worded letter and pack your things for fall classes.

9:05 am - Try to plaster on a smile when your co-worker says hello. Your answering "hello" sounds suspiciously like, "Shut the heck up."

9:10 am - Your boss starts in with the daily tasks and requirements. You realize that you are more infinitely more intelligent than he is. You decide that when your are a millionaire you will buy this company and give him a salary cut.

9:11 am- 12:00pm - Persist in working as hard a s you can, to distract you from the fact that you are in an introverted-misanthrope's personal hell. You wonder how badly it would hurt the two giggling idiots to have hot coffee thrown in their faces. Perhaps then they would stop talking about how badly they hate their noses.

12:01 pm - Lunch! You are thrilled by the prospect to nourish yourself, but twice as thrilled that now you can get back to your book and working with the new theorems you have learned in your latest mathematical adventures.

12:10 pm - Right as you take your seat to enjoy the lunchtime festivities, the two giggling idiots from earlier sit at the next table and continue their chattering. Drat! You anoint them as you newest nemesis. You promise to avenge your lost peace. For now, they've won the battle...but not the war.

1:00pm -4:39 pm - Continue working and planning revenge on your nemesis. Idiot #1 mentions she has a hair appointment. You call the salon and tell them that you would like to change your scheduled highlights for a more drastic change. Tell the stylist "you" have decided to go with Smurf-blue hair. Tell him not to ask me questions when I get in; just get to work. Giggle in anticipation for Idiot #1's makeover.

5:00 pm - Work ends. You drop the "nice" act altogether. All farewell partings have been reduced to a raised hand and a grunt. You are reassured by the prospect of returning home and re-watching Battlestar Galactica.

5:11 pm - On the way home you "accidentally" drop your milkshake on the next happy couple you see. You then realize you are officially the biggest jerk-face you know. You consider tyranny as a career path.

There you have it.

-Ellie-the-jerk-face

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

My Life Is Flashing Before My Eyes


My sister is driving like a maniac.

If I die, my possesions will be given away on a first come, first serve basis.

-Ellie-who-might-be-dead-soon.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

How to be the Worst Blogger in the Western Hemisphere

1. Change your name to Ellie Everdeen.
2. Consistently put off writing your blog because your tired/busy/dumb.
3. Make sure you suffer from writers block at least twice a day.
4. Look back at number 2, and realized you spelled "you're" incorrectly.
5. Make a ridiculous list for a couple of people to read.
6. Go back to reading Wuthering Heights.
7. Apologize for wasting 39 seconds of your life that you will never get back again,
8. Promise that you will be back soon with more absurd blogs.
9. Take NyQuil for your cough.
10. Put back the extra two pills so we don't repeat last year's "drunk-dial" incident.
11. Realize you've wasted another 10 seconds.
12. Apologize again.
13. Lather, rinse, repeat.

-Elliephant.

P.S. If you have any embarrassing moments while under the influence of medicine, please let me know. I need to focus on someone else's humiliation instead of my own. Curse my razor sharp memory.

P.P.S What is the correct abbreviation for the next post-script?

P.P.P.S In case you were wondering, 4 1/2 NyQuil have the same effect as a few shots of tequila: an overwhelming urge to call people and tell the things they don't need to know.

P.P.P.P.S If you are upset that I have wasted so much of your time, just let me know and I will try to come up with an appropriate apology.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Changing the World: Ditto-Style


I am, admittedly, new to the business of being a psychopath. But I'm catching on quickly, if I do say so myself.

The latest Sparkler Challenge comes from Aditrs, who requested a post about the Pokemon, Ditto. At that moment I thought, "How fun! Think of all the good things I can do for people!" But then I thought about it more and realized that what I want the most from life is...revenge. Think about it. Ditto can become anyone he wants. So if I were him for a day, I would take over the world. (Duh) I would, also, do a range of other wildly selfish things.

If I could be Ditto for a day, here's what my shenanigans would be:

1.) I would become Justin Beiber. First, I would legally change my last name to "Timber-fake" and chortle at my brilliance. Then, I would march right up to the record company and request to be dropped from the label. After that I would run to the nearest barber shop and get a haircut. Next, I would google, "How to be a mime."

2.) I would transform into the most hideous, foul dragon in all folklore. Then I would hunt for my third grade nemesis, Leslie Turner and singe her to a crisp. (Is that homicide? I'm a dragon after all. It's in the job description.)

3.) I would turn into Leslie Turner herself and get her arrested. Not for anything crazy, like drugs. But she will definitely be stealing something ridiculous just so that it goes on her record. I will be tickled pink if she has to admit she stole laundry detergent at her next job interview.

4.) I would morph into Taylor Lautner. Then find a mirror.

5. I would become my sister Alice. The city will then be papered with fliers that read, "I, Alice Everdeen, am a butt-sniffer. But my sister Ellie is five and a half feet of die-hard sexiness. I sucked my thumb until I was 14. And I worship the ground Ellie walks on. Bye. -Alice"

6.) I would become the god-among-men known as Dan Bergstein. I would make myself laugh at all the funny thoughts swirling in my head and copy them down for later use.

7.) I would morph into Lindsey Lohan. Then I'd put down the cocaine and eat a sandwich.

8.) Become Warren Buffet. I would disperse "my" wealth among you delicious (3 points for creepy adjectives!) Sparklers and Ellie's Whirrled readers.

I think I like this "psycho control freak" thing I have going.

-Ellie

P.S. There are obviously millions more things I'd like to do as Ditto but I figure I'd keep it short. But tell me what you would do if you were Ditto in the comments.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Hannah's Haiku's

When other bloggers get a compliment, they hand out thank you's. I hand out Haiku's.

Today something happened that was so amazing, I'm convinced that it has given me the ability to fly. Sparkler Hanini_Panini called me "the female Dan Bergstein." she then followed that up by saying, "Don't worry you make my day whenever I read your articles. Being compared to Dan Bergstein is the best possible ' you are amazing and funny and I love you' compliment in my book." It was at this moment the heavens opened up and I heard the angels singing. Or maybe not. Whatever. The point is, I was so excited that I wrote up comment worthy of a Pulitzer. (If e-screaming and and making Facebook jokes were Pulitzer-worthy) After screaming, crying, jumping, and using the little girls room, I realized that "thank you" was just not enough for a compliment of this magnitude. And that's where the poems come in.

My gratitude can only be expressed with a bit of 5-7-5 style Haiku's.

Hannah called me Dan.
Bergstein, to be really clear.
I can die happy.

Hannah's awesomesauce.
'cause she compared me to Dan.
This is her poem.

*normally using two syllables to say "poem" would make you a tool, but today I get a free pass, kay?

I suck at Haiku's.
They're harder than Limericks.
Forgive me Hannah.

-Ellie

P.S. Hey everyone, sorry I was busy this weekend. I'll be back to my usual compulsive blogging. You can get some shut eye now. I know you've been staying up all night thinking about it. (Just pretend like you have.)

Friday, May 21, 2010

Life Lessons from a Kiwi

Are you ready to go on a journey so riveting, so mind-blowing, so fantastic, that your entire cranium might just shatter? Then you should go Youtube “A Very Potter Musical.” Until then, I give you some stuff to think about while the video loads.

I’m back again; and, as usual, about to make outrageous leaps of logic from stupid details about insignificant things. I love these Sparkler challenges so-stinking-much. After Sparkler Severalsilent challenged me to write a post about peanut butter, I extended the invitation to others. That’s when Dizzy_In_My_Head left me this jewel of a comment: “I would love a post about…KIWIS!!!”

You ask; I deliver. Feast your eyes on this Dizzy_In_My_Head:


Lessons from a Kiwifruit:


1.) Don’t judge a book by its cover. When I look at a display of delicious barrels of fruit in the store, nothing looks less appealing than a kiwi. It’s the Danny DeVito of the fruit Kingdom. But underneath that shell of dirty hairy-ness, lies the most delicious fruit my taste buds have ever encountered. So go up to that guy who is just a little quirky, or the girl with the Wiggles t-shirt, and say, “Hi.” You never know how awesome they may be.

2.) Not everything is as it seems. Believe it or not a kiwifruit is a berry (albeit a gigantic one). People just assume that it’s not because it doesn't seem like it would be one. So remember the kiwi when you hear a nasty rumor about someone. You don’t know everything about the situation and you never know what isn’t as it appears to be. Maybe Jenny doesn’t have an eating disorder; maybe she has a super fast metabolism and is self conscious about her knobby knees. Or perhaps I really am this thoughtful and not just pretending to be to write a challenge-article about fruit. (Or not)

3.) Good things come with hard work. Kiwis are notoriously difficult to pollinate. In fact, some farmers have to take the seeds and pollinate the flowers themselves. It’s crazy-hard to get just one of these lovely (hideous) fruits to exist. So let’s translate this into real life. You’re never going to get what you want in life by sitting on your butt cheeks and waiting for it to happen. You have to get up and work like a madman/madwomen to make it happen. If you want to be an astronaut, work like crazy to be the best in academics. If you want to travel the world, control your spending and save every penny you have. If you want to learn to play guitar using only your eyelashes, practice every single day.

4.) Brown, furry things rock. A kiwi is undeniably awesome. It’s a sphere of brown, hairy deliciousness. So the same rule must go for other things. Hamsters are brown, hairy and awesome. Erik Estrada as “Ponch” is brown, hairy and awesome. Know what else are brown, furry, and awesome? Werewolves.


So go to your local grocery store and pick an item to stare at. See what there is to learn from it.


BAM! Challenge Status: Mission Accomplished.


-Ellie

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Ellie Against The World



Okay the title is a little dramatic.




I realized in my last post to SeveralSilent that I LOVE a challenge. It makes me warm and tingly inside to think that someone is expecting something completely ridiculous and I'd better serve it up fresh! (No, I have no clue what that last sentence meant either.)




So, If anyone has anything they want me to, either blog continuously, or write a single post about, just leave it in the comments or email me at ellieeverdeen@yahoo.com. I'll try my best to get the post up as soon as possible.




Or you can just tell me I'm stupid and to delete my blog...whatever you're feeling.




Let the crazy-thought juices flow.




-Ellie

Peanut Butter Makes the World Go 'Round

They said it couldn't be done. (Okay nobody said that, but that line makes for a dramatic opener.) About a week ago, sparkler SeveralSilent challenged me to write a post about peanut butter. This whole week I have been working like a dog to make this post happen. (It most certainly did not take a week because I forgot about it until 13 minutes ago.)


Well Several, here's a gift for your eyeballs.


Peanut butter is the greatest food on earth. Better than macaroni. Better than egg-salad sandwiches. Better than Everlasting Gob-Stoppers. Know why? Because those foods cannot save the planet, destroy your enemies, achieve world peace, or bring families together. But peanut butter can.


1.) Save The Planet - Yes this humble food can literally* save the planet. If we tear down the world ten most populated cities and harvest peanuts, then we stop global warming in its tracks. Then we celebrate...with peanut butter.


2.) Destroy Your Enemies - Peanut butter is a master weapon. Do you want to know why that is? Because nobody expects humiliating defeat via peanut butter. You can:


a.) Put it on their seat right before they sit down. When their butt is resting nicely in the pile of peanut-goo, claim they had an explosive accident.


b.) Sneak into their house late at night and fill every shoe they own with peanut butter. It is impossible to get out the smell even if you can remove the peanut butter itself. You may be thinking to yourself, "Ellie, isn't that considered Breaking and Entering...which is illegal?" To that I say, "It's only illegal if you get caught"


c.) If they are allergic to peanuts: make them a peanut butter sandwich and claim it is made with soy and not peanuts. **


3.) Achieve World Peace - Imagine two world leaders got together over some peanut butter sandwiches and milk to discuss politics. (Is there anything more comforting than that combo? It's like a hug for your tummy.) They are so comforted by the deliciousness of peanut butter that they decide to sign a treaty ending war forever.


4.) Brings Families Together - Think of a typical family. You've got your stressed-out father, nagging mother, moody teenage daughter, and irritating little brother. Now imagine they all go to the store. The dad says he wants shaving cream. Mom says she wants deli meats. Daughter says she wants a Zach Efron poster. But then little Johnny says he wants a jar of creamy peanut butter. They all stop in their tracks and turn to Johnny with loving looks in their eyes at the mention of such a wonderful food. They hug; then go to the peanut butter aisle.


See what I mean? Peanut butter makes the world go 'round.

BAM! Challenge Status: Mission Accomplished.


-Ellie


*In Ellie-Speak, "literally" means, "I'm about to make an outrageous claim."


**DO NOT actually try this dummies. That's what the court system calls "Attempted Murder." (Or "Successful Murder" depending on how stupid the victim is.) Killing is for douche-bags.