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.