Ah, the 27th...

After a miserable half-week, it seemed that the peak at Wednesday would grant me a moment's peace. It is my birthday today after all.-----People who have said "Happy Birthday" to me:About 30.People who have given me something in celebration of my birthday:So far, three (my parents included but not yet proven).Knowing that I'll get back at my parents for forgetting about my birthday:Priceless. Muahahahaha.-----Anyways, I wouldn't have updated today if I had known that my birthday did not leave any significant memories, but oh well. It's just yet another day...Tell me something to be happy about. I'm depressed.

Heh

Well, for those of you who got offended by the last ethic entry, I'm sorry. (I know for sure you're offended, Ross, I'll try to make my entries a little shorter next time.)Well, time to laugh at my dad, for revenge, of course._____________Let me relate to you a funny short story that my dad told me yesterday.Yesterday, my dad dropped me off at SuperCuts or something to get my hair cut. So I went in, waited a while, then got my hair cut and left. Not seeing my dad anywhere, I decided to go look for him, and I headed towards Albertsons, which is where I thought my dad would most likely be.Lo and behold! He wasn't at Albertsons! Instead, he was just two stores in the opposite direction at the T-Mobile Store Place Thingy. This is where my story ends.This is where my dad's story starts.After perusing for a while in the cell phone store, supposedly, he went outside to go look for me. He went inside supercuts, and saw what appeared to be me in a chair getting my haircut. So, as all parents are disposed to do, he went to the hair-cutting lady, and gave her some advice as to how to cut "my" hair.Dad: "Make it shorter."Lady: "This short?"Dad: "Just cut it shorter all over."Lady: "That much?"Dad: "Yeah, real short."Just when my dad finished relating this information to the lady, and then the lady changed the size of her shaving-device-thing, the kid who was supposed to be "me" turned around and looked at my dad. Well, simply put, it wasn't me.Kid: "WHAT?"Dad: "Oh gosh, nevermind, heh, wrong kid."You can just pretty much imagine the emotions running between my dad, the hair-cutting-lady, and the panic-sticken kid. Anyways, to make a short story short(er), I found my dad standing outside the hair-cutting place, all calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.I found this story amusing, since my dad couldn't tell the difference between some random kid getting his hair cut and his own son. I don't know whether to laugh or feel depressed, now that I think of it. Frankly, I blame it on old age.Yeah, so no problems there. When I was getting my hair cut, I told the lady to cut it into, "Anything within reason." I have been advised never to that again.__________________________My parents are telling me to shave my mustache one of these days. Alas, it is breaking my dream of growing a large mustache and waxing it to a fine point. And then perhaps forming odd swirls or shapes, or combing it over my mouth like a veil of mustache hair. Ah well, guess we can't get everything we want. Sigh...

So...another standardized test

This is a paid advertisement by the Raffi Cards Company:First of all, I'll like to say Happy Birthday to Mag, who doesn't read live journals nor knows the existence of such, so therefore, that will be all for that. I would have written a nice poem, but since she is unable to appreciate my work, too bad. Forgot to make a birthday card for her, but don't worry Mike, I'm making yet another unique card for your birthday tomorrow. If I'm quick, I can mail you your card tomorrow, and you'll receive it on Friday. Too bad.If you would like to join The Raffi Company's Birthday Spectacular Mailing List, or know someone who would, leave their name, birthday, and address, and I'll see if I can get around to it. MAKE SURE I GET THE MESSAGE AT LEAST ONE WEEK BEFORE THE BIRTHDAY, OR ELSE I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY PROBLEMS THAT WILL OCCUR.--------------------------------------------Guess what today was? Give up? It's Wednesday! It is also the day for sophomores to take a mandatory Pre-PSAT, which couldn't be any easier. It was like F-CAT except a bit higher in level and more "comprehensive". However, I've never seen such simple math questions in my life (not counting pre-pre-algebra). Ah, yes, and diana, don't give up on physics!Ah yes, since I'm bored, I will make a poll concerning this journal.What does the public want to read next?!?!?!Choice A) The Psycho Papers.Choice B) Oh Friend of Friends, Let Me Count the Ways I've Insulted You.Choice C) The Incorporation of "Raffi".Choice D) Your Choice.Choice A is a psychological analysis document based on my observations.Choice B is a hysterical creation in the works (also will be put on cards).Choice C is a fictional life story based on real events.Choice D is a random story where you tell me the theme.Of course, they all are written with my style of writing. So don't expect anything serious.I'm doing this because I ran out of stories to tell, and I need something to get my brain working. This is, after all, created to be a creative writing journal, not a diary. If there's a tie, I get to close this journal until I get an inspiration.You vote by posting a message.Have fun!

I intensely dislike alarms.

I really have a problem with security alarms....Today turned out to be an interesting day, sort of. I had a tiring physics test, but it was fun. The real fun, however, started when I got home. I think I'll forget about the bike story unless I'm bored.------------FLASHBACK--------------Okay, so here I am at home, and I go out to walk the dog. (yawn! : Types in password for garage : yawn! : takes out key to unlock door : yawn! : opens door... ya..) All of a sudden, the alarm turns on. No big problem there, but then I find that I had forgotten the password. Dang! Why isn't this working? Maybe it was that, no that doesn't work. Argh, what was it again? Beep, beep, beep. Uh oh, the lights are blinking rapidly. At last, I couldn't figure out the combination! The burglar alarm turns on and starts wailing, and then I hear the frantic barking of the dog. Ugh, got to quiet the dog, where is it? I run to the living room, where I see Muffin running in circles and barking at the ceiling. Muffin! It's only me! Remember? Muffin looks at me and runs to me. Sorry, muff, but I have to debug the alarm. So I quickly race out the door to my house. Did I mention how hard it is to run with my dad's slippers without tripping? I run to my room, find the code, and run back. I punch in the code quickly and the alarm stops. Panicking, I remembered what happened last time I set off an alarm. I pace around thinking while Muffin follows me, wondering why in the world we weren't going outside. I finally call my dad and ask him for advice. He tells me to wait for the phone call from the security company. Dammit! I forgot! I quickly hang up and right after I hang up, the security folks call.That taken care of, I proceeded to take Muffin for a walk, but apparently, she had other things on her mind. Walking to the boundaries of the house, Muffin stops and pulls to go back inside. Muffin! Come on! Let's walk! I plead for about two minutes, but it appeared that I was going to lose this. Okay, fine, Muffin. The lady's not back home yet. Do you want me to open the garage and show you? I open the garage, and Muffin rushes inside looking around. Nope, no lady or lady's car yet. Muffin sits down in the shade. Come on, Muffin! I pet her and rub her belly, but she still won't move. The stupid thing was that she was sitting in the only spot of shade, and I was in the sun, trying to coax her for 5 minutes. What was I going to do? Wait until she decides to move? Thank goodness. My savior. My dad walks into view, and like a rocket, Muffin shoots out to greet him, tail wagging, ears pressed back. Oh, and why aren't you happy to see me, eh? Dumb dog. Muffin begins to run loops around my dad, and then bolts down the road. Oh come on, you only walk if you see my dad? How about me? Do you hate me so? Argh! My dad turns to go inside. Muffin turns to follow him into my house. Ugh. How am I suppose to walk the dog when she doesn't even follow me? I tell my dad to accompany me, since it appears that she wouldn't walk unless he came. This aggravates me intensely. About half a block down, my dad decides to go back home, since Muffin seemed to have forgotten him in her happiness to not have only me walk her.Ah well. Today's Friday. Ugh. Still have to tell the lady next door about the alarm. *PLEASE no ticket by crazy sheriff.*I think I better escape south of the border. If you can help me. Please do. Adios.

Ehhh...

Okay, I cooled off. Anger is just a sign of immaturity. However, the significant part of this journal will be "friends only". The Psycho Papers and the Moments will be moved to "private" when I get around to posting them from my files.Sorry about that. I'll post today's bicycle story tomorrow or on saturday if I have time. As for now, I have to study for AP Physics. Oh joy.Sorry, Mike, but you'll have to call me for journal password to view this.

Complete Shut Down

This is the last straw. Due to extenuating circumstances, this journal has become friends-only. If you request, I will make public certain entries, but then again, that's pointless if you're a friend.If you were able to view this journal earlier, drop a comment and you will be added, depending on who you are.LOCKED DOWN.

Friday

Dreaming...dreaming..."So, how many pizzas do you want?", says the guy at the counter. Then I hear a familiar voice saying, "No, let's put that over there." In my mind, something is yelling at me, "WHERE DID THAT VOICE COME FROM?" Suspicions arrise. Then I hear that voice again over my dream, "Here, let me help you." ARGH! Where is that coming from. Then I realize that the voice is my half-sister-in-law's voice. Recognition flashes.WHAT?I quickly tossed aside the bedsheets and jumped up and open the door. Almost slamming my two nephews in the process. Realization...My nephews had brought an invadsion force and was taking over my house! NO. That couldn't be it. Rather, they were coming down from Merritt Island to escape from the impending hurricane.In my mind, I remind myself to curse at the hurricane when I get a chance. Right now, I'm barely trying to type this journal, let alone, stay alive. Thankfully, (or unfortunately for their parents), they have discovered modern gaming technology, and that helps in pacification greatly.Oh yes, and as Jon reminds me, I ate bacon.The point I'm trying to get across, is that the hurricane (no not my nephews, although whenever they leave my house, people remark that it might have been hit by a hurricane) is going to annoy me. And not just me. EVERYBODY IN FLORIDA. All I can hope now, is that the hurricane doesn't do as much damage as possible, because my parents have friends (incidentally "aunts and uncles" but not by relation) who could be better off. Well, my parents are treating Hurrican Frances like Earthquake Frances, because we've stuffed all the objects that could possibly be thrown around (as if in a tornado) and all the stuff that can break and fall down (as if in a earthquake) into little boxes which I do not know where they came from. MY MOM IS PARANOID.She just won't admit it.The End.

messed up

This journal is really messed up. I'll fix it if i can learn how. Sorry.