C-c-c-curly! (hopefully)

Tonight is graduation formal. This means that after publishing last night's post, I spent an hour trying to put hair curlers in, despite holding a deep-seeded belief that they were doomed to fail and that I would probably have to just straighten it at the last minute. There's nothing like feeling like your sleeping on pillow made of large pebbles and yet knowing that it's unlikely to have any benefit whatsoever. So I ended up dreaming that each of my dreams cost 5 cents each and the ones I had were just previews, so I'd wake up 5 seconds after they started, since I wasn't willing to fork over 5 cents for something I usually get for free. The point is, I'm a little sleepy, which is definitely going to add to my looks at formal. The best part is, I knew that's exactly how this whole curl thing would go down, but did it anyways, because the idea of actual curls is so mystical to me that I have to try even futile efforts that will keep me up all night. I just really want to boing them.

The most exciting thing about formal is that I'm in charge of the buses. I jumped on that task, because, who doesn't want the power of bus? Also, anything that involves me checking people off a list while wearing a fancy dress amuses me. I don't know why. But it really, really does. It might just be that I'm looking forward to the first person who tries to mess with me, so that I can shut them down (in a fancy dress). I've been practicing the line, "Get off the bus, motha trucker!" all week. I've nearly perfected it, but for the optimal furrow to my brow. You see, when dressed all fancy-like, a perfect brow furrow is imperative to intimidation.

Speaking of fancy dressing, I'm not sure how well I've planned it out today. I mean, I bought a dress, and I put the curlers in, but as far as I know right now, I might be wearing paper bags on my feet and earrings made from the bones of small animals. Actually, that second one is unlikely, because I live across from the mall, so animal bones would be much harder to acquire than any random pair of earrings, but you probably get my point. I'm comforting myself by reminding myself that you don't really want to look too good for this, because you don't want peoples final memories of you to be "Damn, why does she have to look so good. I'm so jealous." I'd prefer them to get together years from now and say, "Hey, remember that ginger that only wore one shoe to formal, because she realized she'd lost the pair as she left the house?" It kind of has a Cinderella flare to it, minus the prince since 87% of my class is female. Also, glass shoes are horribly impractical, and an excellent way to end up with a severed tibial nerve.

Happy song of the day. Well, formals always make me think of high school prom, and just before my prom was when I discovered exactly how much I love Joni Mitchell, a love that has only grown since then. I wish I could say Song for Sharon, since it's the only Sharon song that I have, but it's very long and not even I can stretch it enough to classify it as happy (introspective, maybe?). So, for today, I'm going to go for Judgment of the Moon and Stars, the Travelogue version, because the orchestra helps. Again, not exactly happy, but, I like imagining shaking my fist at lightening and being a forest fire, because of the futility and the destructiveness, respectively.

So, while finishing this post, I noticed I had a new e-mail, which always excites me, then usually disappoints me. This time it was notification of a new comment on my blog though, which is always exciting, or so I thought. I started reading it and was confused. "Excellent topics, I really like this topics. Can you publish more articles?" This seemed odd. First, what topics, friends that are robots? Grass-eggs? Novel forms of messing with your childrens lives? I don't get it. Also, how many more articles do you want? I'm writing everyday? Then I did get it, because they followed with an ad for a chiropractic clinic (I've since deleted it, for fear of viruses). I was so very sad. So, I decided to do some online stalking, and figured out through my excellent online stalking skills that they came across my blog through the search term "carpal tunnel syndrome". Having had carpal tunnel syndrome, albeit briefly and guitar hero induced, I don't like my people (yes, my people) being preyed on in blog form. To my mysterious poster, if you ever read this, I suggest that you scan for the following words in a blog before you attempt to advertise: kill, robot, evil, crack bottle. This is not an extensive list, but simply a few that might have clued you into the fact that my readers are unlikely to be searching for your clinic anytime soon, and that if they were, you'd likely not want them to find it.

Now I'm afraid that since I mentioned severed nerves, tomorrow there's going to be a comment from a bargain basement neurosurgeon.