Alrighty then

So here i am at my computer, talking to my dad about my bannana condom post, him laughing then suddenly he has the urge to go in to my bathroom pick up my tight jeans of the floor and...........put them on. Yes people of the world my hippie dad decided to wear tight jeans (he already does (somtimes) but he put on mine, and they fit him (not that im fat they are just really stretchy). The wierd thing is they looked pretty cool on him. So my woderful readers thats my dad for ya, the king crimson listening to, dead head (someone who listens to Greatful Dead you musically uncultured confused person........haha just joking) striaght out of 1975.

Asian Seafood

My breath felt as if i had just exited an asian seafood restruant. I liked the taste it was warm and soft yet cool and unexpected at the same time, my taste buds began to tingle.

I raided the fridge for anything and everything I came out with a bucket of cookie dough, lemonade, Yogurt, and some cheese. Screw health food.

I pigged out for about an hour then squeezed into my dress. It was squishing my newly excerted gut. It was an eighties prom dress, with a tightly fitting mermaid green, black polkadoted boustiay. Then a ruffled black skirt, it was the posterchild for vintage and i loved it. I walked out the door, Ran down the stairs barefoot, and stripped myself of sanity.

Rain poured in sheets of newly cleansed liquid. I ran into the sky shower. The rain soaked my every inch. I ran through the dark streets laughing and dancing and playing. I started to sing, very poorly i might add. I sang my soul out.

His window opened, his chisled face appeared thruogh the open square. I smiled at him so fully and real. He closed the window and i saw him run down the stairs. He stood under the porch and i called out for him to join me. He ran into the rain, his converses now soaked and tight jeans dripping.

I skipped over to him fell into his arms he held me tight with his warm comforting body. I turned so we were facing each other i leaned in and breathed in his aroma of asian seafood the smell was overwelmingly pure, he kissed me and kissed me again in the most lushish, kind, loving way and i kissed him back. There we were standing in the middle of a summer down pour kissing in the middle of the street.

My thursday Night

Talking to strangers at midnight while flying on my magic bicycle to the playground of our pasts and sliding down the tunnel like a four year old. As we truely live, i stop and count the colors of the rainbow then hop aboard and am taken to the place of all lost dreams. To explore our minds and your mind and my mind, and discover the unimaginative thoughts of our generation, when did we stray from ourselves? We are lost, and the slides are no longer riden and the rainbows are no longer counted, they are lonely, how do we help them? We enter a train of thought and evaporate into untouchable beings to observe our mark. Then condensate ourselves back to humans and change it and fix it and express it.

BANNANA CONDOMS!!!!!!

Beware of:

This post is rated PG13, some of the following material may not be sutible for younger adeiences

Get ready for:

Okay in this post dudududidydun....you get to see me and what my friends look like

I'm sorry that:
This post is somewhat about me but i think it's so hilarious that your gonna hear it anyways.

Story:

My friend Paige was asking my friend courtney for a condom not that she's gonna use it she just wanted to see it and play with it (don't say ewww ya know you want to, too). So she finally brings her one a bannana flavored one so paige is all excited. So she opens it on the bus and piage is just going at the thing licking it and what not........I smelled it, it smelled like a bananna popsical...i would totally eat it if it was a popcicle. Sadie (another bff) yells to sereta that paige has a condom then this 10th grader on ur bus starts yelling at paige for having a condom saying it's inapproprete (whatever...atleast we don't use it). Then she tells her friend who tells her friend and before you know it the whole bus knows paige has condom.....so now she's known as the bus slut. She's gonna sart given 'em out free if ya need one.....hahaha...just joking.

This is for paige:

"Packman may not last ,
But bananna condoms are for ever."

-Piage

"They'll make it or break it"
-Catherine...me

(GIRL WITH BRAIDS & headbands........ME, bLONDE.....SADIE.......rED HEAD with FOREHEAD.......PIAGE......BOW CHICK cOURTNEY)

NEW!!!!!! Blog!!!!!!

I just made a new blog.......yes another one. But this one i promise to keep up. It's one of those story blogs where the whole thing is just like a novel. But anyways it's called "My dead lover" and it's about this guy and this girl and their best friend just died. So it's about how they cope with it and what not.
But tell me if you like it or not!!!!
Comments would be very appreciated!!!!!

Click Here to see it.

Stream of consiusness

He lived so others could die.

He was brought among us so the loved would evaporate. He celebrated so we could mourn. His happiness is our pain.

Good is evil is evil is good.

He reverses our stream of consciousness, clots our imagination, so he shall be happy.

He lived so others could die.

Our pulses pause, our minds will stop, he will bloom and conduct and be able, we....will vanish. He is good and bad and greedy and humble. Without the bad there is no good. The perfectness is within us and him, but it can not live. Not with out it's counter part. But then it would not exsist.

Good is evil is evil is good.

Loser

I was born in New york City, I have a scar on my left eyebrow from a terrible accident, and I think i killed my mother. My name is Lucy. I currently live in a small town in a on a small street in an old house. I stay in the attic and I won't come out. My Best friends a book i read when I was six. I'm a loser...and you can't stop me.
I am filled with pages of changing form. My home is stark and dusty and old. I have been through many hands of many souls. Forever changing those I meet. My letters have touched those much greater then I and I made that difference.

My.........Label?

Her eyes moved up and down, studying, Labeling. Me:
Skinny jeans, ancient converses, earthtone mix-match top.

"Whats your favorite band?"she needed a clue.
"Henry Clay People",It didn't help she didn't know them,"there from California". Two clues plenty.
"Oh", surprised...I knew it,"T thought you'd say Fall out boy or somthing".
"I know",though I didn't.

She couldn't get it. I didn't dress like the preppies who love Boys like Girls or Metro Station. But I didn't have her rebel look, ya know when you can emeditly after seeing them the are a true punk rocker.

"You know Jefferson Airplane?" This was her test. She like the older bands.
I did know, both...actually.
"Ya, airplane and starship", I can shake things up.
Silence, she didn't say anything. I passed the test. The rebel was confused she moved her test to someone else.

I saw her again in the halls. The ten minutes we have to get to our lockers is the blobiest, most undesicive mess I've ever seen. You can't tell anyone from anyone. We're packed in those tiny five foot wide walls all squished together like sardines in a can. But I saw her, you can't miss the black hair and eyeliner. She saw me, too. The girl glared in frustration. Why'd it matter what my label was anyways. Have we become so obsessed with classification that when someone doesn't fit, they're examined by a teenagers built in x-ray machine?

Our third encounter occered in the lunch room:

"Tell me", I turned, it was her. Standing next to me in line.
"Tell you, what?" Though I already knew.
"You know what" Fine I'll tell.
"Me", Her brow shot up in disbelief and shock and some stupidity. The simplest answer, yet could not be configured, because no one has that answer any more.
"Oh", she needs to find another word. She walked away, back to her group which she'll probably never leave.

I've seen her again, of course after our.......What would you call it? Fight? Sure. But she'd just pass by non-chalantly ignoring my exsistace. And their would go by my one time only........enemy? Ya that sound right

Remember..........

Directions:

Think...............remember,
Now Go out and act like a four year old

The Lottery

Oh my God i just finished reading "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson For school. And its the most horrible thing ive ever read not the story line that sucked but the whole idea was so ...........tragic. The main Character gets stoned to death because she drew a piece of paper with a black dot.

The irony is she supported the lottery until she was the one to be stoned. The sad thing is that this ancient tradition is no different then way we act today. No not as brutal but same idea. We see on the news every day thousand of muslims being killed or little african children dieing of aids and were immune to it all, we dont bust out in tears every time we see it. But when our family member dies we bluber like a baby or worse its us whose gonna die suddenly it becomes unfair.

Who new my most favorite word had a dark side? Well...i sure as hell didnt.

Irony's gotta Darkside, -Catherine