Hey Guys

I'm Sebastian, your other celebrity guest!


I've been thinking about what to write, and I don't really know. I had a brilliant revelation last night as I was falling asleep, but I forget it. So I'll just write, and hopefully it'll be entertaining.

Things I've recently discovered:
- Donovan
- The word soigné
- Crusader Kings

Ten minutes ago, I finished my first Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions, but I haven't had near enough time to process it. So I won't be talking about that. Next I'll be finishing the last couple chapters of Eats, Shoots & Leaves and then diving headfirst into The Fountainhead, which promises to be a very long, trudging and dreary journey into the wonders of capitalism.

Oh, Harry Potter! I could talk about that! I've read and own all of the books, and the quidditch one and the bestiary one, and they're good. Well, OK, I didn't read the first book; I listened to it. Close enough, right? My favorite is Order of the Phoenix. I'm just not into them in a geeky way like you guys and Hayley.

Not that there's anything wrong with being geeky! This is sort of embarrassing for me, but I used to be into Halo in a really, really big way. I missed Homecoming freshman year to go to a Halo gathering several states away. I own the first three Halo books and The Art of Halo. I camped out at the release of Halo 2. I was pretty involved in the fan community. Before that, it was Pokemon -- I read fanfic, I tried to write fanfic, I had an Angelfire site and about a million Expages sites (for those of you who remember those -- weren't they great?), my first AIM screenname was pokemaniac829287, I played the Gameboy and N64 games, I played Pokemon cards. Currently, I'm not really particularly geeky about any one thing -- kind of in a lull. I'm sure something will come along sooner or later.

Somewhat tangentially from the geekiness thing, what do you guys think about pulp? I've sort of recently come to realize that everyone has their pulp, and those who don't are really, really uptight. My dad watches war movies, Jess listens to pop music, Hayley reads Twilight, and I like H.P. Lovecraft, scifi and zombie movies. You can be as high-minded and pretentious as you want, but everyone needs to relax with something downright trashy.

Hey, do you guys think that Hayley's ads are going to be for Halo or Pokemon now? My blog is very photo-heavy, without many words, but I once posted something about mangoes. All of my ads have been for mangoes ever since.

Yeah. So. Um. Not sure what else to write about, so I guess I'll rob Lauren's wonderful idea of bringing back the sexy/unsexy list.

Sexy:
- Hayley
- Johnny Depp (and, by extension, pirates, barbers, and people with scissors for hands)
- No Doubt
- Things made of white plastic

Unsexy:
- Justin Timberlake
- Pollution
- Owning too many cats
- The Black Plague

Well, kids, that's it for me. Lor may be making another appearance at some point, so keep your eyes peeled.

Chipotle burritos this year: No idea. As much as I love them, I think I'm still in single digits.
S'mores this summer: 2, I think.
Subscribers: 5

Hi, I'm Lauren.

Celebrity guest numba onnneeee: Lauren/Lor/TOL

If you came to this blog expecting the usual deep thoughts, metaphors, and natural beauty that Hayley effortlessly spews here, then I’m sorry to disappoint you but the rest of this blog will not be as eloquent and grammatically correct as my friend.

Okay so this is the part where I’m going to talk about myself.
-I’m Lauren, and I learned how to spell my middle name a few years ago. It’s spelled Nicole.
-Hayley and I have been friends for 11 years.
-My words come out much faster than my brain processes them.
-I like playing the piano, taking pictures, and playing lots of video games.
-I’m not a huge Harry Potter fan. Sorry if I just lost your respect by saying that.
-My favorite movie is The Fifth Element and my favorite musician is Beck.

-Monsters Inc makes me cry.
-I also think Chipotle is one of God’s greatest gifts.

Since my life right now consists of nothing interesting because all my friends left me (for Haiti and RFKC), I guess I’ll just tell you guys some history of me and my friend.

So hayleyghoover and I became good friends in second grade. We were extremely obnoxious. There was a girl in our class who just moved to America from China two years earlier and we decided it was our duty to give her American lessons. So whenever she meant to say “excuse me” she would say “accuse me” and in response, we would shout “YOU DID IT!” Not my proudest moment. We would also write stories together on an old 90’s story maker program on the classroom computers. I remember “The Small Apple” which was a never ending story of an apple who would have freak accidents and have to get plastic surgery to become a different random object. There was also “Stop Junior!” about a kid who would do bad things and get yelled at. We still quote from this story to this day. (You must read this quote in a British accent.) “Junior! If you would behave, you’re father would stop throwing lightning bolts at you!” Apparently his dad was Zeus? I don’t know…

Over the next couple of years our coolness just kept growing. We decided that Veggie Tales was all the rage and brought our Larry the cucumber plushies to school every day. We would sit on the top of the slides and sing Christmas carols and replace the words with veggie tales things. We would not let ANYONE go down those slides. But secretly, everyone wanted to be those two girls blocking those slides ;)

Skip a lot of years until you get to this past March. I was soooo bored. Hayley was sooooo bored. So we lay on my bed and whine to my mother. And you know how mothers are, the only suggestions they have are “go play cards” or “make a sandwich” and then my mom gives us money and says to go to fun n’ stuff. (It’s not fun btw. Just a crappy skating rink and an arcade.) So we drive with full intentions NOT to go to fun n’ stuff and get my nose pierced instead. She suggested we do something rebellious and I was too tired to disagree, so we did. I still barely remember it because of how tired I was.


OH I KNOW! I’m bringing sexy/unsexy back!
Sexy:
-Neil Cicierega. Specifically holding toy food in front of a camera.
-All video games. Speaking of video games, anyone play animal crossing? It has seriously taken over my life. The game kills anyone’s social life because it’s designed that you have to play every day. Also just got the sims 3 and not liking it so much yet. What are your opinions? I like talking about video games.
-Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and those roots!
-Boys that can draw.
Unsexy:
-Justin Timberlake.
-Hollister.
-Mika. I will never understand Mika. Although catchy, Lollipop still haunts my dreams.
-Um. Feral children?

Well there ya go. Forgive me, my last experience blogging was xanga back in sixth grade. Classic stuff there. I thought I’d just give you guys a little picture too. This is from the Moaning Myrtles show. And Hayley, although we like to poke fun at your fame, don’t take it personally. We do it with love and admiration :)

Keep checking for another secret guest appearance this week!

Chipotle burritos this year: Not as much as Hayley! But still a Chipotle fangirl.
S'mores this summer: Not a big smores fan. OH and I think someone mentioned they didn’t know what a s’more was! It’s a honey flavored cracker thing+ chocolate+ toasted marshmallow+ another cracker.
Subscribers: 1!

Tiiiiiireeeeeeeeed.

Unless I force myself out of my loving bed early tomorrow morning, before spending my nights on a mattress that feels like a ballooned-up rubber glove, this is the last blog post from me you'll be reading until at least Friday. Although I have a special guest or two lined up to make celebrity appearances on The Hayleylujah Chorus while I'm afk for the week, I wanted to write one more good entry beforehand. I was going to save it up until I had something of worth to say, but my eyelids are already drooping at eight PM, and I'm not getting any less tired. In fact, I just pried myself from the couch to come type this. You, reader, are keeping me from some documentary about Michael Jackson. (Speaking of, whatever happened to Macaulay Culkin? I mean, besides the aftershave, molestation, and Saved, what's he been up to?) You, reader, are keeping me from my rest. And, reader, mmmm, sleepy is not the proper way to begin camp.

I spent most of the day with my family, loading and unloading a U-Haul with camp supplies. Sliding heavy cardboard boxes out the back of a truck, adjusting them in my shaking arms, carrying them down jagged steps, releasing, repeating. I didn't pause long enough in the process to realize how much I was exhausting myself, but goodness, is it apparent now. To punctuate that statement, I just yawned. Bring on the screaming children!

Ummm. I'm not sure what else there is to say. It's pathetic, but I think I'm going to legitimately miss blogging this week. It's part of my natural routine now. I go through a day, I notice something or think something or feel something, and a little sound effect goes off in my head, telling me to write about it later. Then comes this part. I feel totally relaxed, totally comfortable. It's just my jittering brain, my typing fingers, and a few hundred strangers.

I certainly am a weird person.

Anyway, it'll be crazystrange without you guys. If you follow me on twitter, I'll be able to use my phone for a little while every night, so I can give quick updates. Until Friday, then, I hope you all are doing well. Think of me-- I'll be thinking of you!

Chipotle burritos this year: 22

S'mores this summer: 2 (Fear not! I'll be in double digits when you see me next.)

Subscribers: 17,636

Whooshwhooshspinnywhoosh

After yesterday's unintentionally philosophical blog post, I figure we all deserve a lighter fare for today. Jess took this photo with her phone last week at our park. Despite my evident narcissism (hello, I write about myself every day of my life and expect strangers to read it!) I'm not including the picture just so you have another chance to look at me. It feels like me and Jess. The essence of our friendship. This picture is what it's like to be a new high school graduate and to have a best friend. And... stuff. Other corny stuff.

Anyway. Tonight we had a family dinner to celebrate my brother's acceptance to his first-choice law school. With dinner came a celebratory wine, which I suppose I can blame for the difficulty I just had typing the words "celebratory," "difficulty," "I," and "words." My body's doing that whooshwhooshspinnywhoosh thing right now, and my fingers feel full of adrenaline and stupor. I... don't know if any of that made sense. Moving right along.

I was, once again, incredibly appreciative of your thoughtful and interesting comments yesterday. I'm impressed with your ability to express your religious beliefs on the internet to someone you don't know. You guys are, all in all, an interesting bunch of folks. Thanks for taking the time to both read and comment; it means a lot to me.

On an unrelated note, Sebastian's coming over soon, and I think we're going to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It's a favorite of both of ours, and although I have it memorized, it'll be interesting to watch it with him. And drunk. 

Chipotle burritos this year: 22

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,602

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

It's possible that I killed someone.

I went for a walk with my sister yesterday, and we talked a lot about next week's Royal Family Kids' Camp. We exchanged jokes about the trials of acting happy-go-lucky while running on two hours of sleep, listening to children scream and belch and cry, and managing crises from broken hearts to broken skin. We discussed returning campers we've both known, loved, and pretended to love, both of us laughing all the way. But somewhere in our talk, my mood turned sour, as it usually does after meditating on RFKC. It's easy when you're thinking about the skinned knees and ice cream fights to think of the campers as regular ol' annoying kids, but at the end of the day, they're regular kids who've been abused. Someone out there was able to look these little girls and boys in the wide eyes, and knowingly cause them some kind of pain. I hate, hate, hate crying, so my natural defense mechanism kicked in at that point in the conversation. I said something mean. "Child abusers are among the most wretched of all human beings," I told Kelly, scowling. "I hope anyone who's ever done something like that dies. I wish death upon them. People like... like Michael Jackson. I hope they die."

That's right. The day before Michael Jackson died, I said the words, "I hope Michael Jackson dies."

Obviously, I never met the man, and obviously, nothing I thought or said yesterday caused his death, but I can't help but feel a deep sense of guilt. While I think the media has a habit of overreacting (I heard a newscaster say tonight, "We shall always remember where we were when the death of the Prince of Pop was announced," as if this is some kind of national tragedy on par with Pearl Harbor and 9/11), Michael Jackson made some good music, and he made a lot of people happy. And, more importantly, he was a person. Whether or not he legitimately committed any crime against children (I selfishly believe wholeheartedly that he did, but as I wasn't there, who am I to really determine the truths of someone else's life?), he was a person tainted by pressure and Hollywood and health. No matter what he did or didn't do in his lifetime, his death-- like all deaths-- is worthy of mourning.

Despite my frequent jesting, I believe that all people are primarily good. Despite the unpopularity of my ideas, I can't justify that one crime or sin is greater than any other. In my mind, and in my religion (I consider myself a nondenominational Christian, and I sort of do my own thing spiritually), Mother Teresa and Charles Manson are equals. I've met too many people in too many situations to believe in the ranking of souls, which is why I have difficulty accepting the concept of hell. How can God, who doesn't work on a linear timeline, who's been around before there were days and will be around after there's no universe, who creates each and every person differently and individually... how can this unconditionally-loving God choose some people over others? They say that God makes us, but then gives us the choice to accept or deny him. But if God knows our destinies before we're even born, why would he create people who will never make the cut?

Before I get responses of both kinds, I'd like to address two things right up front: 1) I am by no means denouncing religion or claiming that I have a better grasp on any idea than people who have studied theology for centuries. I have faith, I'm interested in other people who have faith, and I'm working to be tolerant of all different kinds. My questioning isn't even really doubt; I'm just trying to figure out where I stand. And 2) I'm also not blindly buying into a WASPy tradition or allowing propaganda bullshit to be shoved down my unknowing throat. My mother, though she is a serious Christian, has a very different set of beliefs from my own. And while I, admittedly, form much of my opinion based off how my dad thinks, it's not because I'm not mature enough to search on my own. My dad is a highly respected man-- brilliant and revered the state over-- and I would probably agree with his insights even if he hadn't donated to my DNA. Yeah... um, just so we're clear.

So basically, I'm feeling pretty uneasy about life in general right now. For one, I'm signing myself over to other people next week, and I have to pretend for six days like I'm not a selfish wretch for the benefit of children. For two, Jess will be in Haiti all week doing missions work, putting herself in dangerous situations and worrying me to no end. For three, I wished death upon a dead man. I'm in a weird place. I'm gonna go to bed now, I think.

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Beta Channel Pages

Every now and then, when YouTube starts sensing that we're all happy, they decide to do something to ruin our lives. I came home an hour ago from doing prep work for next week's Royal Family Kids' Camp-- with an explosive headache, mind you-- and was blessed with this video, announcing the ugly future of our channel pages. Can anyone on the planet make those pretty? Like, anyone at all besides fallofautumndistro? This is my current channel: 

Yes, it's cluttered and chaotic, but I'M cluttered and chaotic. For kicks, I tried making a beta page. Obviously, I didn't invest much time into it. I'll probably make new banners and everything. But just to reinforce my point, it looked this hideous:

Boo. Whatever. Right now I'm eating a Snickers cookie that my sister made for me, listening to the DFTBA radio hour, and private chatting with blog reader Ryan (DomesticFruit). That's the best thing about the YouTube community. Google can do whatever they want to the site, but they can't undo the awesome of its users. SPEAKING OF WHICH, NEW BABYPORRIDGE VIDEO. I'm out of here!

Chipotle burritos this year: 22*

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17, 527

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

*You clever, clever jerks. :) No, I did not throw up one burrito. Thanks for the suggestion, however, Shannancy, Ryan, A.J. and Melody.

I'm being haunted. By Emily Dickinson.

It is difficult to describe the fervor with which I believe Emily Dickinson is haunting me.

We met in the most typical of ways. "Because I could not stop for death." Eighth grade Honors English textbook. I was intrigued by her unorthodox use of dashes. She was intrigued by my hideous yellow-blonde highlights. Despite our differences at the time (she kept symbolically comparing life's trials to bumblebees, I kept decorating my AIM profile with boyband lyrics), Emily and I forged a friendship, and I considered myself a fan from there on out. We encountered each other in little ways for a few years: "Your Riches-- taught me-- Poverty" opened a novel I read sophomore year, and I analyzed "There's a certain slant of light" in senior AP Literature. But our love was rekindled in full a few weeks ago at Barnes & Noble, when I first laid eyes on a pretty, navy hardcover containing Emily's complete works. The volume and I experienced, I must say, instant chemistry, and I simply could not rest until I'd had my way with it.

Emily and I have been kicking back together a lot lately. Catching up, chillin' out. Maxin'. I've always drizzled little bits of Dickinson trivia into conversations to impress people, and now that the Lady in White and I have gotten reacquainted, I finally took it upon myself to verify that any of it is true. So, I did what anyone in search of fact verification should do: I skimmed the Wikipedia page. Then I went to bed. BAD. BAD, BAD IDEA. If you learn one thing from following my blog, NEVER READ WIKIPEDIA LATE AT NIGHT.

Basically, my sleep was plagued by unconventionally-punctuated nightmares. In my dream, I walked in my front door after a night of hanging out with Sebastian. Changed into pajamas, brushed my teeth, turned on the ceiling fan, pet my dog, got into bed. I stretched, I yawned, I leaned over to turn off my bedside light... and who should be sitting at my desk chair but ol' Emily. More specifically, it was a life-sized, breathing version of this picture. Still just as grayscale, but about twenty times scarier. I jumped up and screamed, but Emily Dickinson is no fool. She Apparated to the end of my bed. She blocked the doorway. She blinked menacingly in my face. For reasons unknown, Emily had it out for me, and I was goin' down.

I jolted awake for real then. I had to take nighttime cold medicine to relax my paranoia enough to sleep through the night. The whole time The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson sat on my floor, mocking me. It took well into the middle of the next day for my nerves to calm. In fact, I was reliving the dream in my head that afternoon as I read through a handful of accumulated text messages. "Read today's featured Wikipedia article," said one from Sebastian. Um, hell no, I thought to myself. Not going near that website for a day or so.

At Sebastian's house the next evening, as we were talking and looking at facebook and stuff, he remembered that text I'd never responded to. "Oh, I have to show you this," he said. He pulled up the Wikipedia homepage. "Look at yesterday's featured article."

Emily Dickinson. EMILY DICKINSON. The day after I freaked the hell out over the Emily Dickinson Wikipedia page, Wikipedia featured the Emily Dickinson Wikipedia page. That, boys and girls, goes a little bit beyond coincidence. We're entering into Parallel Synchronized Randomness.

So, obviously, I had to reread it. I'd found similarities between the two of us before, what with the sometimes reclusive depression and aversion to other people reading our writing, but now I feel an indescribable, perceptive connection to her. I texted my friend Leah (professorspork) about it. "Emily Dickinson fell in love with a man through correspondence. They met irl, he verbally abused her, and she went crazy." 

It must be noted that this-- her relationship with mentor Thomas Wentworth Higginson-- was pretty much entirely hyperbolized in my own head, and that it may or may not be completely untrue. But I have a feeling. Anyway, Leah's used to me, so she retorted, "She was also so painfully shy that she often spoke to visitors through a wall rather than meet with them. So."

"But that was AFTER she went crazy," I pleaded. "She was relatively social and involved before. Her family was important in the community. She liked dashes a lot." A skeptical Leah responded, "Didn't she have an affair with her sister-in-law?" 

A minor detail. "She tried to. Either way, I'm fairly positive I'm the reincarnation of Emily Dickinson."

"I'm glad you have that to look forward to," Leah said. "May I ask who you think I was in a past life? Mufasa is not an eligible response." 

Joking aside, though, never has a dead nineteenth century poet so messed with my brain. Part of me feels strangely correlated with her, like she will continue to mean something important in my life. Part of me feels like I should stop staring at a computer screen late at night. Either way, Emily and I have had a rough couple of days. And on THAT note, I'm going to go get some much, much needed sleep.

Chipotle burritos this year: 22

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,494

Hahahaha :-p. Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3 

P.S. --Whoever made these things is NOT FUNNY. Geez louise.

--Commentor Johnny left me the coooolest picture ever on yesterday's post!

--Like everyone who's ever heard it, I can't get this song out of my head.

--Okay, seriously, goodnight.

S&M Bedding and a Book Crisis

At the present time, we ("we" meaning "actually just me... alone") are facing the following problems regarding my future college dormitory:

--I don't find out which part of campus/which building I'll be living in until July, and I don't meet the girl with whom I'll be sharing a closet-sized room until we move in.

--I can't find cheetah-print XL twin bedsheets for the life of me, which is putting a damper on the Mimi Marquez-themed decor I've been planning. And honestly, if cheetah is that hard to come by, where'll I ever find blue vinyl and black pleather?!

--I have the legitimate desire to live in a room decorated like the costume of an HIV-positive, S&M-dancing fictional character from a 1990s musical.

--My bookshelf is only big enough to house about a sixth of the books I'd like to have with me for a year.

At the present time, these are the books I'm convinced I cannot live without:

--The Harry Potter series. I'm thinking I'll take the British children's paperbacks, as they're smallest and all the same size. The downside is that they're more a collection than they are reading copies, and I absolutely could not let anyone borrow them. (What if the spines were bent? Gasp!)

--The Tales of Beedle the Bard. For reference and homesickness.

--Megan McCafferty's Jessica Darling series. Part of me is mature enough to say I should take with me only Perfect Fifths, and if I feel the insatiable need to reread the first four, I can always wait until a vacation when I'll actually have the time. The other part of me, however, cringes at the thought of being anywhere for an extended period of time without them.

--John Green's three novels. These are, without a doubt, necessary. I'll take the three paperbacks to conserve space, I think... but there's no way I'll ever lend out my battered paperback Looking for Alaska or my advanced copy of Paper Towns. Maybe I should bring my least-valued copy of each? Thoughts?

--The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson.

--The Complete Works of Shakespeare. This is definitely just for show, as the print is tiny and I don't think I've ever once read out of it for fun, but I bet I'll be required to buy specific versions of plays for classes, and it would be stupid to have two paperback Hamlet copies with me. But it's not like I can take that risk without a backup plan.

--J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye.

--Jaclyn Moriarty's Year of Secret Assignments.

--Antoine de Saint-Exupery's "Le Petit Prince."

In total, that's... twenty-one books, and about three of them are humongous. What are your thoughts on the subject? I suppose both Billy Shakes and Emily are available online... and the chances of me rereading any Harry but Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows are slim... but I just don't know. Choosing one love over another has never been a strong suit of mine. I feel like Tom is asking me to organize my babies into a Top 8.

On a semi-related note, I bought two 16" x 20" poster frames at Walmart yesterday, and I'm going to fill them with photographs for my dorm walls. None of my friend are the real Posin' 4 Pix type, so it's suddenly becoming apparent how few pictures there are of all of us-- especially without one or two people making a stupid face. I do have a blown-up version of the fiveawesomegirls photo, though. I'm excited for that. I can just imagine the conversation my future roommate will have on the phone the day we move in: "My roommate has pink hair, is covered in contrasting animal print, and has pictures on the walls of people she met on the internet."

Siiiigh. Such is the life. :)

Chipotle burritos this year: 22

S'mores this summer: 2, plus a severely disappointing s'more-flavored Poptart

Subscribers: 17,458

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

My mother: Full-time Christian, Part-time Badass

"What is WRONG with you?" asked my enthusiastic mother early this morning, as I rolled over and tried to cling to the sleep she'd shaken me out of. "You haven't blogged in THREE DAYS!" I mumbled something about coming in too late, smiled, and flopped my face into a pillow. Well, guys, I don't know what's wrong with me, but I DO know that this post is long overdue.

First order of business: Cedar Point. Sebastian and I had a ton of fun on Thursday. The lines were surprisingly not atrocious; the longest we waited for a roller coaster the whole day was just over an hour. I rode the Top Thrill Dragster for the first time (in the front, no less!) and it was exhilarating times ten. It was sort of cloudy all day, so we weren't baking in the sun or anything, but conditions were less than ideal for the nasty water rides. While Sebastian is usually really mature and smart and interesting, there's this other side of him that's a hyperactive little boy. He gleefully dragged me onto a soaking wet raft ride, during which they attempt to make you as cold, wet and miserable as possible. "I am the greatest It's Complicated in the world," I told him, as a gallon of bug-infested urine/chlorine mixture was dumped on my head. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, you are."

Something about shivering and having your clothes cling to you in every uncomfortable which-way just makes everything funnier, though. There were times that we had to get out of the way of walking traffic so we could double over and laugh. Also, we were marvelously amused by what must've been some kind of Ginger Convention going on that nobody'd warned us about. Sebastian and I had a competition throughout the day to count as many redheads as we could, and ended up with 174 total. I technically won, as we closed the official contest when I had 87 and he had 86, but Sebastian tried to tally one more as we were leaving. Either way, though, that is a LOT of gingers.

So Cedar Point is my excuse for the lack of blog on Thursday. I spent Friday and Saturday hanging out with friends like a normal eighteen-year-old. I PROMISED myself I would blog last night, and then I found myself singing Demi Lovato at a party with TOLauren (I'm going to start calling her Lor in my blog) at 12:15, and alas, it was too late. All in all, I've been having fun with graduation party season. Lor cheered me up from being relatively upset about a little bit of friend drama last night, and I'm not exactly over it... but I'll get into that tomorrow or something. I'm gonna leave now to go to my friend Kathleen's house for a Summer Solstice get-together. Goat sacrifices, tribal dances, the works.

But before I go, the conversation on the car ride home from church this morning. Oh my goodness. "You tell Justin Timberlake to go to hell," said my mother, the Sunday school teacher/Preschool director/social worker/perfect Christian church lady. "You don't let a boy be mean to you. Next time Justin Timberlake tries to talk to you, you tell him to go to hell!" Then my dad took one hand off the steering wheel to make a fist, and said, "You tell him I'LL bring sexyback." I don't know what the most mortifying part of this conversation was. 1) My mother damned my ex-boyfriend to hell. 2) My mother refers to my ex-boyfriend by the nickname I use for him in my blog. 3) My dad thinks "sexyback" can be used as a threat. And finally, 4) My dad knows who sings "Sexyback." Either way, Justin Timberlake, due to express instruction from my mother: GO TO HELL.

And on THAT note, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to go have fun with a nice boy who's nice to me. :)

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,435

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. Frealz. 

Lor took this picture of me on her snazzysexyartistgirl camera. (I don't know what it's called because I'm naive, but it's one of the kinds only awesome people have.) Anyway, I'm making a weird face, but my friends are incredible. <3

Rain, Creeks, Roller Coasters

As you've probably noticed in my videos, my computer sits at the apex of several large windows. Were I to open the window to my left right now, I could reach my fingertips outside. If I were to open the window to my left right now, I'd regret it, because 1) we're in the middle of the kind of rainstorm that inspires arks, and 2) I've learned from experience that liquid and keyboards just don't mix. (Long story short: I was exploring my long-time crush's computer, was spooked by his father appearing behind me, and spilled a twelve-ounce cup of Coke. I later received the dysfunctional keyboard as a gag Christmas gift. Needless to say, I haven't spied on anyone's files-- or consumed much pop-- since.)

Anyway, rain makes me giddy. I have a relationship with water. I'm not one for swimming, but I've always had the inexplicable feeling that my patronus is a goldfish. I take horrendously long showers (to the dismay of the various people sharing my hot water supply), I'm one of the few who honestly drink eight glasses of water a day, and the sound of thunder excites me like nothing else. My religion has instilled (distilled? lol) in me the metaphor of baptism; being immersed in water is a way of flushing out negativity and feeling new, clean, relieved. I know it's stupid, but I've always felt like rain is God's way of telling me to calm down. Stop. Go play. Breathe in how good it smells. Better yet... write something for once.

Well, God, I can make no promises. But I can blog.

Yesterday, Sebastian and I went for a walk to play in a creek Jess and I found. Jess usually refuses to be within a mile of my video camera, and I wanted to film some stuff, so I brought along the photographer. Oh my goodness, this place. It's indescribably beautiful and serene. Jess recently taught me how to skip stones, and there are zillions of flat, skinny rocks to throw. I got some cute footage of us playing around in the pretty scenery that I'll be using for a depressing, moving-away-from-my-friends-sucks video. Now I either have to grab the few candid Jess-shots (danielbeast, anyone?) I can get before she punches me, or resort to handcuffs and chains. The latter isn't exactly the look I was going for as far as the video is concerned, but I do what I must.

Tomorrow Sebastian and I are getting up early and driving to "the roller coaster capital of the world," which is conveniently located an hour and a half away on Lake Erie. It's one of those places that's frequented by smoking teenagers with poorly-highlighted hair and balding men in wifebeaters drinking beer out of plastic cups, but it's also incredibly awesome. People flock there from all over the country, and, believe it or not, I've only ever been two or three times. It isn't fun that one of those times was with Justin Timberlake... or that we spent the whole day without a fight, totally enamored with each other... or that we held hands and shared messy junk food... or that I slept with my head in his lap on the ride home. Siiigh. Luckily, Sebastian really understands. Hopefully I can make it a happy place again in a different way?

Speaking of Justin Timberlake, I was reminded late last night why we don't work. Once again. That kid has a real talent for making me feel worthless and miserable. Ah, well. Off to buy Cedar Point tickets!

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,326

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you... Friday, I guess. I'll try to get a 5AG video up tomorrow night, but there's no telling when I'll be home. <3

My Love Life: A History

You guys are lovely. The fact that I can post the world's most confusing blog in a half-sleeping state, and you all spend the time to figure out what I'm talking about? That's, like, worthy of extra credit. I especially feel for those of you who are new readers. There ought to be a "Previously in The Hayleylujah Chorus..." segment. So for this one time only, while supplies last, I will do just that. Here's a blurb of my love life.

Once upon a time, in America's semi-rural suburbia, there lived a girl named Hayley. She loved nerdy things, but most of all, she loved nerdy boys. She had little problem getting them to like her, but a lot of problems keeping herself interested once she'd jumped head-first into a spontaneous relationship. For example, she had a heated will-they-or-won't-they thing with a boy named Andrew, starting when they were twelve, and ending after their senior year in high school.

Okay, I'm sorry. I can't do the whole third person thing anymore. EH HEM. I kept Andrew dangling by a string for six years, let him call me his girlfriend for two months, and don't care about any of it anymore. During the Andrew Purgatory, I had several small, less-than-important flings, and threeish longer-term boyfriends. In middle school, there was a boy who, for this blog's purposes, we'll call Scotty, as a nod to Megan McCafferty's Sloppy Firsts. We flirted in the obnoxious hair-flipping seventh grade way, talked on the phone, and slobbered disgustingly on each other in someone's basement once at a party. Scotty was mostly kept around to make me feel cool and to fill the empty space of my AIM profile (S+H=4eva and whatnot), and he now matters in no way other than that he was kind of the first. Freshman and sophomore year, there was a steady, pleasant-- if not boring-- drummer. With a car. We'll call him Ringo. We spent a year watching movies on his couch, talking about trivial, boring stuff, and only ever did trivial, boring things together. So imagine my surprise when at the end of my junior year, I met the only person I've ever been in love with.

Justin Timberlake (Haha-- new kids, he really has absolutely nothing to do with Justin Timberlake. I just picked that name because it's so hysterically unfitting) and I had an inexplicable chemistry from the beginning, as well as a natural knack for torturing each other. In hindsight, we were really only official for about six months, but we'd picked, like, the breed of our future dog. We were on-again-off-again, but when it was on, it was ON, and when it was off, it was usually still kind of on. Now we're indefinitely off. "JT sounds like an interesting fella," says commentor Lindsey. "Just let me know whether I'm supposed to like him or hate him because I'm not really sure anymore." Sorry, Lindsey. Sorry, everybody. For now, even I don't know. 

And that, boys and girls, is the past.

We'll see what happens now. My friend Sebastian and I have been spending most of our time together, and we like each other. I'm attracted to overt masculinity. He likes fashion. It doesn't make any sense, but somehow it's really fun. I'll, as always, keep you guys posted. For now, though, my Facebook relationship status is set at It's Complicated, and I'm not going out of my way to change it anytime soon.

On a totally unrelated note, writing this blog has taken twice as long as it should because, um... I may or may not be watching Teen Witch. Like, the movie responsible for that ridiculous choreographed "I Like Boys" song I linked to a few entries ago. It's been a favorite of mine and my sister's for a few years, but it never stops being ludicrous. Unfortunately, things took a nasty turn a few minutes ago when I came to a frightening realization. Save the applique denim vest at the beginning, I REALLY LIKE THESE CLOTHES. And my hair acts like that naturally! "When can I start dressing like the '80s?!" I asked Sebastian, my breathing equivalent of Glamour magazine. He texted back, "For a month last summer." Ugh. Noooo. So not fair. "No, no. It has to happen again," I said. "They have to give me this one hurrah." He says I should do it anyway. Hahahahahaa. What do you think? Would you still love me if I started wearing blue bobby socks with heels? What if I freestyle rapped out a convertible? Would I at least get one standing ovation?

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,266

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

P.S. And I also obsessed over/pined for another boy from the time I was eleven until... well, frankly, I still felt obsessive and piny over him when we saw each other yesterday. I was pretty okay with leaving that story out, but Leah (professorspork) just yelled at me in her comment. So.

BOY DRAMA and Logging?

Before we begin, I need to tell you something awesome. I keep notebooks and pens on the floor by my bed (I have a bedside table, but that's for my phone, lamp, loose batteries/thumbtacks and garbage) in case I think of something brilliant as I'm falling asleep. I often flop over sideways and scribble thoughts down with droopy eyes, but they're usually illegible, nonsensical, or embarrassingly emo the next morning. Today, however, I awoke to this: "Everything I need in life that isn't a food or a friend is some blogging, some vlogging, and some snogging. Not so much logging, but I'm not that picky." I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF WRITING THIS WHATSOEVER. I nearly died. Wow. Okay. Back to our regularly-scheduled melodrama.

Some signs that you maybe have relationship issues:

--You don't finalize your breakup with the boy you've been flirting with since you were twelve-- not because you're heartbroken or nervous, but because you care so little that you'd forgotten about it.

--You finalize said breakup over a minute-and-thirty-eight-second phone call, ending with, "Cool; I'll see you later," on your part, and "Peace out," on his. *

--You go from practically pining for a boy you represent with the name of a pop star one night, then having a joyous conversation with him the next day about how great it is that you're over each other, and sort of almost mean it. **

--You have a thing with a friend for, like, a week, immediately regret it, then sort of want to have a sort of thing with them a few months later.

--You and your friends beat each other up to show affection.

--You go to a party with the person from item 4, run into the person from item 1 who's with another girl, text Item 3 during the encounter, and find it all really funny and nonchalantly nonawkward.

--And, most importantly, you leave the party at eleven so you can run home and blog about it.

*My phone conversation with Andrew (roughly):

Him: (very chipper) Hey! What's up?

Me: (equally friendly) Hi! Hey, I listened to your voicemail!

Him: (mild hesitation) Ah, yeah. So... you seem pretty okay with it.

Me: (happy as ever) Oh my gosh, yeah! I'm definitely very cool with it. And so are you?

Him: (cheering back up) Yeah, yeah! Well, I'm on my way to [our mutual friend's graduation party], so.

Me: Oh, okay; I'll probably stop by at some point. 

Him: Cool, well.

Me: Cool; I'll see you later.

Him: Cool. Peace out.

The party was FUNNY. Jess and TOLauren spent the entire time cracking up and begging me to go sit in a little circle with Andrew and his sixteen-year-old Abercrombie babe, just to embrace and stroke any amount of awkward tension we could muster. I did, for a bit. "You know what's funny," he said at one point, avoiding eye contact with me, "is that--" I cut him off and finished, "I accused you of being interested in her [the junior girl], and you accused me of being interested in him [my friend]?" He laughed and nodded, and I cracked up and head-bobbed. "I totally don't care," I told Juniorcrombie. "Don't feel awkward about this at all, okay?" She half-smiled. Terrified.

Goodness, I'm glad high school is over.

**The conversation with Justin Timberlake began when I started feeling inexplicably melancholy at my friend Seers's graduation party. Even though JT and I have been dissonant for a long time, and even though I went without speaking to him for weeks, and even though I preach for hours on end about how much I despise him, I naturally look to him for comfort. The reason he can hurt my feelings so deeply is because he understands my feelings deeply. The reason I hate him for being a bad boyfriend is because he's such a good friend. Anyway, he instantly made me feel better, and we ended up playing a game called Say Nice Things to Each Other in a Strictly Platonic Way to Make Up for Some of the Hatred. And... it felt kind of pleasant! Half an hour ago, I received this text that I want to immortalize: "Hi. Just wanted to talk to you. I love talking to you. Days are carpe'd when you talk to me often." So... here's hoping friendship is possible. I'm skeptical too, guys; don't worry. But I'll keep you updated on any progress/digression.

ANYWAY, on a note completely unrelated to my raging estrogen, I squee'd with joy while reading yesterday's blog comments. First of all, thank you for participating! At the present time, the post has 119 responses, and each one is cute, funny, or interesting. I feel for you, Kylie, who by chance received two Aaron Carter songs. Props to ivebeentheatrefied for being decked out in Jonathan Larson. Poor ifmemoryserves suffered an Ashlee Simpson attack, reminding me of this great video. All in all, I loved each and every comment. Thank you.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

S'mores this summer: 2

Subscribers: 17,232

Bye, guys! This blog lacks continuity at best and sense at likeliest. If you're totally lost, ask questions in the comments, and I'll try to sort it all out for you when I'm not half asleep. Hopefully tomorrow. <3

iTunes Shuffle

I've had an iPod for a few years now, but I've never been the iPod type. Don't get me wrong--I'm not Angela from The Office; music is awesome-- but I'd rather look out the window silently on a long car ride, and I write in my head when I run. But a few months ago, my brother bought me a device that hooks it up to my truck's radio. Then, I discovered the "shuffle songs" feature. And then I was sold.

Other than the occasional disastrous slip-up, like the time I got the iPod stuck inside my car's cupholder on repeat and I had to listen to the italktosnakes throwdown two and a half times before I could remove it, shuffle is AMAZING. It reacquaints you with old loves you'd forgotten about, like this song and this one. And it gives a real sense of your personality. There's a popular meme somewhere that I don't feel like looking for right now, where you put your iTunes on shuffle and write down the first ten songs that come up, no matter how embarrassing. I think we're gonna play that game. Post yours in the comments!

1. "Did You Get My Message? (Live from Montalvo)" -- Jason Mraz

2. "Potential Breakup Song" -- Aly & AJ

3. "Bring Him Home" -- a recording of the Les Mis song by my choir sophomore year

4. "Don't Turn Around" -- Ace of Base

5.  "Life Support" -- Rent OBCR

6.  "Attractive Today" -- Motion City Soundtrack

7. "Someone to Snog" -- The Remus Lupins

8. "Desperately" -- George Strait

9. "Song for the Miley Video" -- hayleyghoover

10. "Grapefruit Juicyfruit" -- Jimmy Buffet

Wow. Those are... a fairly accurate random sample of my music. Save Ace of Base, it's nearly embarrassment-free. Haha; I'll have to try again sometime. What are yours?

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 17,147

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

P.S. Marlena, I adore you, and I'm sorry you didn't get a shoutout yesterday.

So fab!

Guys, your comments yesterday were, as usual, unbelievably sweet and funny. Not kidding; you're partially responsible for my overall quality of living. Love and thanks to Christy, Joanne, Joy Isobel, Adam, Annaface, Janelle, Allison, an anonymous reader, Afton, Britty, Janet, A, itjusmar, Gavin, Christine, Leah, Kristen, goldensnitch, A.J. James, VicMorrowsGhost, Scott, Elizabeth, Kat, Hayley, Zoeey, Bre, Rohan, Lor (TOL to you), Becka, MegTao, ZippedTight, Katy J, another anonymous reader, Jen, Erin, Catherine, seurat2, one more anonymous reader, Freya, and Brianna. You're all wonderful. A gift: Here's a song you'll have a hard time disliking. What a classic.

I woke up this morning with every intention of making that video I was talking about in yesterday's blog. I was going to task manage. Accomplish what I'd set out to accomplish. And what did I do? I filmed about thirty seconds of it, watched old music videos on youtube, and painted my right big toenail a distinct different color from the rest of them just to be a jackass. But hark! Amidst my video-watching spree, I was reminded of this brilliant work of art. And from that inspiration alone, I opened an iMovie project and made a spontaneous video with no prior planning. SO THERE YOU HAVE IT, WORLD. GOOD THINGS CAN COME FROM LAZINESS.

Ummm. I lost my phone somewhere in my house. Really not looking forward to going through 70 tweets I've already read online. Also realizing that I don't even know my best friend's phone number, and I miss Jess. Aaaaand... that's sort of all I have for you today. If by any chance you're a first-time reader, I assure you that there are days when this blog is a hell of a lot more interesting. To redeem myself, here. Try not to laugh. You're welcome.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 17,079

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Videos! Jack Johnson! Heartbreak! (Not really.)

I can't get this song out of my head! Now you have to go through it, too.

While I cracked up at your comment on yesterday's blog, Catherine, I'd like to point out that--HA!-- I legitimately did post a fiveawesomegirls video today. I feel like I've been walking around for the past three weeks wearing one heel and one flip-flop, and getting back into the swing of things with 5AG is finally leveling my life. Now I just need to get back to a fairly regular once-a-week-or-so schedule on hayleyghoover. I recorded about 30% of a video today that's different from my regular style, but I'm really excited about it. Tomorrow will be a day of filming and editing to the max. I think you can expect it tomorrow night at the earliest, Sunday at the latest. But then again, as Catherine'll remind you, my word regarding stuff like this is total untrustworthy bullshit. :)

I'm almost disappointed that my whole waaah I'm so sick I need to go to the doctor waaah charade ended up being one short-lived wolf-cry. I was sort of looking forward to the adventure of being sick. Like, watching Full House reruns, drinking tomato soup, and feeling bad for myself. But alas... I woke up this morning to a mostly clear throat and tons of energy pulsing through my body. So sorry, Uncle Jesse, but I ditched the pity party and went running instead.

In youtubely news, Toddly00 is attempting to post a video every day until he loses thirty pounds. That's kind of, um, ridiculously ambitious, if you ask me. That stuff usually takes forever and a video a day is a LOT! Either way, I'm going to follow him in this endeavor, however crazy, and try to lose ten pounds myself before college. On an unrelated youtubely note, Strawburry17 posted a really inspirational video the other day. It'll be of particular interest to Christians, but it's indisputably pretty, too.

OH OH OH! Andrew dumped me over a voicemail last night. "Hi, Hayley. It's weird to do this over a voicemail, but I've been thinking. Last time we spent time together, it was apparent that neither of us wanted to be spending time together. So it's probably best that we aren't... together... anymore." It was nothing short of hilarious, and I'm completely feelingless about the whole situation. My thought process was pretty much, Oh, cool. Oh, I should tell my blog readers tomorrow! Haha. Whatever; time for bed. So, you know, pretty heartbroken over here....

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 17,027

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Casual Prince

The problem with keeping a daily blog in the summer is that sometimes... nothing happens all day. I could tell you about how Jess and I are twelve-year-olds and had to pull ourselves away from neon nail polish displays at the mall (after buying teal, to add to my collection of emerald, orange, hot purple, and lime green), or how I ended up buying my brother two dozen rolls of Mentos Fruit for his birthday, or how my being sick has prevented me from easily swallowing solid food, but... you probably don't care. You probably don't care, because I barely care. I care passionately about the Sailor Senshi's blood types, and I don't care about Mentos Fruit. I keep pushing off blogging until the last second, convincing myself (wrongly) that if I just hold out till the sun goes down, something really exciting and anecdote-y will happen. Unfortunately, I don't find my anecdote until midnight, don't get home until after, and don't remember or care about it the next morning.

Zomg you guys; keeping a haphazard account of my daily life full of inconcinnity and unrefined metaphors is so0o hard.

After all those other nondescript events, I went with Sebastian to a thrift store in our cracked out, pathetic excuse for a city (whose main attractions are failed rubber factories and wasted teenagers on stolen bicycles) so he could further his baffling flamboyancy with rejected clothes from the '70s. Only after I talked him out of purchasing an eight-sided table and mustard yellow poker night chairs, he came across one gem: a girls' top that greatly resembles Jemaine's "Casual Prince" getup from season one of Flight of the Conchords. It's hilarious. And he looks hilarious in it. And I spend all my time with a six-foot man who wears women's blouses.

I came home to a gathering of my family gnawing on the ribs of mammals for my brother's birthday. As I missed most of dinner, I unfortunately missed most of the Criticize Hayley session. It was pretty tame tonight. Just the occasional "Oh, leave the cupcakes; Hayley'll obviously eat them all!" and some awkward comments from my permanently drunk grandfather. I dreamt the other night that I had an affair with the director of music from my high school musicals. That last sentence had absolutely nothing to do with what I was talking about, but I sensed it getting boring and wanted to catch you off guard.

Anyway, for those of you who care enough about yourselves to not follow me on twitter, it turns out I don't have mono, strep, or lead poisoning. Apparently I just have hypochondriasis and the ability to make doctors roll their eyes. My throat does, however, continue to hurt miserably. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise, though; today I turned down several cookies, a cupcake, some cobbler, and chocolate. This decision was about 20% willpower and 80% sinus-induced aversion, but maybe after a week of abstaining, I'll remember what it's like to eat when I'm hungry, instead of like a ravenous dog.

In youtubely news, Molly (mememolly) posted a video today inspired by my latest. We talk occasionally, and she's been subscribed to me as long as I have her, but I still feel like she's way too cool to acknowledge me. It's silly to heroine-worship someone just for being artistic and beautiful, but the fact of the matter is... I would give anything to be more like Molly. :) Also, I'm definitely posting a fiveawesomegirls video tomorrow, even if I have to have Audio Preview speak for me. It's been way too long, and I have way too much footage with Lauren (devilishlypure) and Matt (thewhompingwillows) to go unseen.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 16,977

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Twitter Downsizing

Last night, during the dinner table conversation about my crippling depression, my mother suggested that Twitter might play a role in my reclusive attitude. She says it's a way to feel like I'm being social, because I'm receiving two texts a minute about people's lives, but I'm not actually talking to anyone. My initial thought was, Okay, you would think that, but there's just such a huge generation gap that you don't understand. But upon later reflection, I decided to give her theory a chance. I've downsized my Twitter. Last night, I was following 130 people on the internet, and 40 on my phone. Now I'm following 99 in total, and 19 on my phone. Pssst. One of them is Miley Cyrus.

This is a lot harder than I thought it'd be! I first joined Twitter when it was fairly new, so I instantly followed anyone I knew at all or was remotely interested in. But now comes the time when I have to decided: do I care enough about Katy Perry to read her @replies? No. Do I care about the guy who writes PostSecret? Yes, but not enough to receive instant updates wherever I am. I took off the device updates for two of my friends last night before bed, and woke up flustered and upset with myself until I turned them back on. I think I have a problem.

Anyway, I'm going to the doctor's office at eleven to deal with the fact that I can't swallow painlessly. I'm going to place all the blame for this one on my friend, Sebastian... I hope I haven't infected Jess and TOLauren. Andrew's safe, because we don't actually spend any time near each other, and we certainly don't kiss. This is one rare time I'm grateful most of my friends live far away.

Sexy: Liam Neeson. Kicking ass, wearing kilts, grieving, holding babies: he's always going to be hot.

Unsexy: Having a throat that feels like a ribbed condom filled with acid.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 16,817

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Friends in Low Places

There are some obvious downsides to being an irrevocable country music fan. It's the most look-down-upon genre of music around, and admitting your love can be embarrassing. People tend to think a lot less Carrie Underwood, which it is, and a lot more Tanya Tucker, which it nowadays definitely isn't. Guys, I've been trying to hide my feelings from you for far too long. The truth of the matter is that I live in the farmlands, I drive an American pickup truck, my parents are Republicans, and my soul sounds a little bit like Garth Brooks. So, if you can stomach it, here's a song I can't get out of my head.

I've made my first stop on the road to MonoLand by waking up with a sore throat. It was difficult to swallow the grape juice-dipped body of Christ this morning in church, and all I've eaten today is some tomato soup and a bag of chocolate-covered almonds-- the soup for my sickness, the almonds for my uterus. Not a good morning as far as health and vivaciousness are concerned, but hopefully leaving now to see Up with TOLauren will help. Hooopefully.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 16,611

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Myrtlenucleosis

Yes, I know. I am bad. I am bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. I'm slacking on my blog, I haven't posted a fiveawesomegirls video in WEEKS, and I continue to spiral down the funnel of bad teenage decisions. On the bright side, the reason I've gotten so behind on my internet duties is because--believe it or not--I'm having way too much fun in my real life. How joyous and unusual!

On Wednesday, I went to the wizard rock show in Akron, Ohio to see Justin Finch-Fletchley, The Whomping Willows, and The Moaning Myrtles. The performances were so, so good and fun. Lauren (devilishlypure) and I spazzed all over each other in a love puddle, and I got to FINALLY meet Nina (ninjapiano) after years of fangirling and months of we-need-to-meet!-ness. I talked to Adam Dubberly of The Mudbloods on Nina's phone. And then, in slow motion, my eyes caught Matt Maggiacomo's across the crowded room. Violins played. We hugged. It was good. And of course, I met some of you guys! If you were one of the people I got pictures with, could you please send them to me? You're all incredible.

After the show, I hung out with Lauren, the bands, and the AWESOME hp-ohio people. We ate a lot of food and just talked about how much we hate the Potter movies, gossiped, and filmed some incoherent, funny footage. Matt and I blushed out of mutual respect/obsession for each other. The next day we went to lunch in the city where most of my IRL friends will be going to college in the fall. All in all, it was fun, and saying goodbye to a fellow awesomegirl NEVER gets easier. :( At least Lauren'll be back for our friends' wedding in August.

On my way home, I got a call from Andrew asking me to play tennis with him and some of his friends. I said no, that you couldn't pay me to play tennis in a million years... because I was driving right next to the court as we spoke and thought it would be funny to show up right as I refused on the phone. I only stayed for a short time, though; partially because I was wearing a dress, partially because I was waiting to hear from my friend Sebastian who stayed at the hospital overnight for mono. And partially because we can barely stand each other sometimes and this whole dating thing is a very, very bad idea. 

"What'd you think of my graduation speech?" he asked, because I've barely spoken to him for the past two weeks. Neither of us even notice, though, because we have no desire to have constant contact. Which should be, like, a sign.

"I think it was very," I said, flailing my arm in the direction of the ball to no avail, "representative of your character." 

He caught the ball and lodged it back to his friend. "You could have seen me do that if you'd come to more of my tennis matches," he said to me. At least I think it was to me, because his ugly sunglasses covered his eyes.

 

I didn't say anything in response to that because, okay, he has a point. But what I really wanted to say was, "You would know what I thought of your speech if you paid enough attention to know I have a blog I update nearly every day!"

I fully recognize how immature and moody I am regarding relationships, but now I'm starting to realize why it is we'd never gotten together before. We're friends, but we only like what the other person is to us. He liked that I made him have fun during the school year instead of just studying all the time. I liked that he put me on a pedestal and preferred me to everyone else. We liked the social shock value of "getting together" at the end of our senior year. But we do not like each other! Ugggh. I'm not looking forward to telling him this, but alas. We're not in school anymore, and the foundation of our entire "relationship" graduated with us. Sorry to disappoint.

Anyway, I've gotta go make guacamole for my sister's birthday party tonight. Other than that, I'll just be sitting here, waiting for the mononucleosis I've obviously caught from spending all my time with my diseased friend, to kick in and kick me in the face.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: 16,533

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. For real, this time. <3

P.S. I just received my final high school report card. And although I had nightmares last night about having to go back to school (I'm so not kidding!) now I have ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION TO MY HIGH SCHOOL WHATSOEVER. I am DONE. Thank you, and goodnight.

Graduation

Yesterday's blog post was the result of too much pizza, too many Oreos, and too much Rite of Passaging. The second I broke free of my cap and gown, I ended up leaning on TOLauren's lap while Jess rambunctiously knocked into me at uncomfortable angles, and a TV show about sexual repression in the '50s lulled me to sleep. "You only have ten minutes left to write your blog!" Lauren exclaimed, breaking the dreamland sound barrier enough to bring me to consciousness. "Don't worry," said Jess, bouncing over to my computer. "We'll take care of it for you!" I insisted that they immediately specify that I was not the writer, but other than that, they were free to do as they pleased. Unfortunately, there's the possibility that some confused new readers will think that I meant that stuff. Thanks for that one, guys.

To clarify, the day of my high school graduation went a little bit more like this.

Rehearsal started in the early morning rain and lasted for several unbearable hours. I, like many people, was wearing shorts, a tank top, and limbs full of goosebumps. I pretended to listen while our doofus of an assistant principal exerted his last bit of authority over us by making us walk through the motions at least four times. The secretary I wrote about a while ago (yes, that one) meanwhile muttered to the powers that were and jabbed her hands around in furious directions so we could all see how powerful and important she was. I chewed gum with vigor as my choir ran through "Lean On Me," because, honestly, no one could tell me not to anymore. 

The rain took enough of a pause that evening to not disrupt the portion of our ceremony that wasn't under the roof of the pavilion. I wore that dress I showed you guys and matching earrings, but since the traditional graduation getup pretty much covers every surface from mid-calf up, all anyone saw were the strappy, silver prom shoes I wore to be eccentric. It was really sort of warm and pleasant on the stage in a very early summer kind of way. My friend Seers texted me, "I might fall asleep up here. Seriously. It's warm and this robe is like a blanket."

Oh yeah. Which reminds me. My friends and I exercised four years' worth of surreptitious texting practice by tweeting through the entire ceremony. My brother @replied me saying he'd pay me $500 if I screamed "FIRE!" Friends from the school newspaper staff in the audience begged me not to make them cry and made snarky remarks throughout. The funniest messages, by far, were in response to Andrew's commencement speech.

Oooooh, goodness. How is one expected to feel when she is designated Girlfriendthing of the guy barking Klingon into the microphone? I kid you not. It began with alien language and ended with a combination of "Live long and prosper," and my humiliation. The director of my musicals, seated in the front row, made eye contact with me, betraying her vicarious embarrassment. My brother texted me, "You've kissed that guy. FYL." It's possible that I would have found this charming and funny a few weeks ago, but feeling a thousand eyes reading my reactions made me sort of want to vomit. In hindsight, that was out of character for me... but I'm trying to preserve the hellish night I left Hell High School exactly how it happened, and last night, I almost embarra-barfed.

The last speech of the night could very well have been the last speech of my life, because if it weren't for the sheer grace of God intervening, it would have gone on for six more days. I sound like a jerk for saying that. It was delivered by our principal, who's battling leukemia. I've always genuinely liked the man, especially compared to the rest of the faculty, so the past couple of months have been hard. His speech was heartfelt, and I recognized that he tried to be inspirational, but by around the twenty-minute mark, it was losing its grasp on my heartstrings. I don't know... maybe I'll go to hell for saying that. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and have to go through four more years of high school with Satan himself as my hall monitor. I'm just trying to tell it as it is.

Anyway, when I finally went to walk across the stage, I felt absolutely nothing. Not excited, not nervous, not melancholy, not proud. I might as well have been walking from the fridge to the couch on any other day. Our present stand-in principal read my name (correctly, this time-- in rehearsal, he thought my middle initial was A) and I went through the process thoughtlessly. The school board, principal, and assistant principal greeted us for handshakes. By chance, the first board member in line was my closest family friend, so we had a long hug. The second member in line was Seers's dad, who's helped raise me, so I hugged him, too. Then--HAHA!-- the most awkward moment of the whole night. I barely know the next woman in line, and she obviously just assumed I was the hugging type. She reached out to sincerely embrace me, and I instinctively stuck my hand out like a dead fish. We fumbled around for way too long, trying to gauge what to do, and ended up sort of leaning towards each other while moving our hands robotically. At the end of the line, as I was handed my honors diploma, I honestly considered ripping my robe open, screaming, "SUCKAAAZ!" and running off the other end of the stage, all the way home.

But I would have missed the Alma Mater! Have any of you ever seen the VeggieTales episode in which they're forced to sing a worshipping song about chocolate bunnies that symbolically threatens their religious beliefs? Well, Junior Asparagus and I have a lot in common, and I don't just mean our unruly hair. The lyrics to my school's Alma Mater are preposterous, and I'd probably think that even if I felt this way:

Praise we bring you, Alma Mater

Hell is your name.

Songs we sing you, Alma Mater

Widely known your fame.

In our hearts, we'll always know

Our pride in you will grow and grow.

True and loyal, Alma Mater,

We shall always be.

And forever, Hell High,

We pledge our hearts to thee.

I don't know who idolizes fire and brimstone like that, but I certainly don't. I've had issues singing along to that damn thing my whole schooling career, and last night, with my diploma on my seat, I stood at its opening chord just so the audience could see my lips not moving. I looked over my shoulder to Lauren, and I practically pulled a muscle from laughter. Wild and bold, she sang it out like some kind of negro spiritual tune, squinting her eyes closed in mock appreciation. I love my friends. As it came to a close, I couldn't help but think of some more fitting lyrics:

God, I hate you, Alma Mater

You cause me much pain.

God forsake you, Alma Mater

Disgusting and mundane.

Long as we're here, we'll always know

Nobody will learn, benefit, or grow.

Repelled and angry, Alma Mater,

I shall always be.

And despite all your attempts,

No one here can define "thee."

The band came to a crescendo, the assistant principal gargled something inaudible into the microphone, caps were thrown, hugs were exchanged, and I bolted out of there as fast as I could. "SCREW ALL OF YOU!" I shouted past a collection of teachers. My choir director laughed and told me to call her by her first name. At least some good came out of that idea.

Which brings me here. I'm a free woman. I only had to endure the hopeful uncertainty of elementary school, the awkward tension of middle school, the penetrating annoyance of high school, and ten flipping speeches about what Confucius say and reaching for the stars. I wish I could say that the ceremony made me want to start go-gettin', movin' and shakin', but it really just made me want to eat a box of Oreos.

Chipotle burritos this year: 21

Subscribers: Youtube won't tell me because it's doing site maintenance. I posted a video on hayleyghoover today, too, but good luck watching it until tomorrow.

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. But not while I'm seeing LAUREN FAIRWEATHER! Once again, if you live anywhere near Akron, Ohio, you should come to the wizard rock show tomorrow night. Can't wait to see some of you, blog readers! <3

!!!hayleyghoover did NOT write this blog!!!

But she thought this....

Today was the best day of my life, and the saddest at the same time. It's hard to believe that I will never see my high school classmates ever again. I will miss seeing all of my teachers' and classmate's smiling faces. You just have to realize that this is the time of our lives where we have to choose: are we going to take a chance and reach for the distant monkey bar (even though we will probably break our collarbones) or play it safe and probably fall off the monkey bars anyway? It was soooooo cute how our assistant principle knocked the valedictorians' hats off trying to put medallions around their necks. I might miss him the most *blush*...  

But no matter what happens, just remember that we will always be connected by our experiences. We laughed, we cried. We are the class of (oh what?) '09. 

Live long and prosper.

Lor&Jess