Ahhh, the language of texting. Scary, yet time saving. Do any of you know what the title means? Most of you know Omg means: Oh My Gosh. And Inbd means: It's no big deal.
But do any of you know what omgiarotflolacmeo means?
Probably not cause I just made it up.
But go ahead and try to figure it out :-P
Comment and let me know what you think omgiarotflolacmeo means!!
Have fun everyone :D
mwahahahahahahhahah
... Sorry I just saw Monsters Vs. Aliens for the second time and that cockroach.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Bananas are yellow too!!
So we went to go visit our family for Memorial Day weekend, and we brought back one of my best friends that I have known since birth.
We have a huge week planned out for us, full of exciting things to do.
What kind of exciting things?
Well, today after we finish school we are going to the mall. Always fun.
Tomorrow we plan on dying strips of our hair pink. Just a little strip not the whole head.
Thursday is picture day, and possibly a trip to the downtown area.
Friday (our last day together) we plan on doing something crazy beyond belief. What is the crazy thing, you wonder?
Ya, so do we.
We don't know yet, so if you guys have any suggestions please comment and tell me!!!
Oh! And on Saturday when we go to bring her back, we are meeting at this huge resort and it's gonna be awesome:)
LATER PEEPS
haha.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Whoa... cheese is yellow
Have you ever thought about why cheese is, in fact, yellow?
Yeah, neither have I.
But! According to some research I have done at this website, milk contains a yellow pigment called B- carotene. Can anyone guess where that comes from?
Grass.
Yupp. Green grass.
So, when we are eating our wonderful cheesey delight, we are eating grass. Not yellow grass. Green grass
Fun.
So, to continue talking about my research, the website said (and I quote)
"The colour is not soluble in water and is thus present in the fat fraction of the milk. When making cheese, the fat is more concentrated, which results in a more yellow colour of cheese as compared to milk."
Which means that...
When eating cheese, we are eating fatty green grass.
Interesting...
I will leave you to ponder.
( I found that picture using Google images, if in fact it is subject to copyright, I don't know, but here is the website on which Google found it. http://www.kontrastblog.com/2007/07/18/centureis-new-nanos-cheese/ I don't know the contents of this website so I can't be held responsible if it's not to your liking)
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Man by the Window
The Man by the Window
In Jefferson Memorial Hospital, two men, both in bad shape, were confined to a room in the cheerless recovery wing on the twelfth floor. It was a small room, no bigger than 10 by 12 feet and it was connected to another room of identical size by a tiny bathroom. Mr. Vincent, the man in the bed by the only window was doing poorly after the removal of his lung. He was in severe pain most of the time, and every afternoon the nurse came in and propped him up to a sitting position to clear the accumulated fluid. He sat there by the window and between labored breaths he told his roommate, Parker, all the things he saw outside.
It was good for Parker. Parker was in an accident last month and his lumbar vertebrae was dislocated, resulting in the loss of cartilage between them. He was forced to lie perfectly still on his back until it healed. All he could see was the ceiling curtain track and the face of the nurse when she bent over him.
The two men talked through the long night and during the early morning hours. They spoke of their families and friends, their jobs and their experiences in the war. They were restless and resentful of their confinement in Jefferson Memorial and the waste of the precious time left to them in their senior years. They dreaded the bed pan and the cold wash cloth -- and although they wanted to be left alone they were filled with sadness during visiting hours if no one came to see them. Worst of all they lost track of the world outside.
Whenever Mr. Vincent was propped up by the window, Parker would ask him, "What do you see Vinny?"
Mr. Vincent would hesitate before answering, partly because of the pain and partly because he wanted his words to be worthy of the scene, "Well, first of all it's a beautiful day. The kids must have the afternoon off from school ... they're all over the park. I remember now, the nurse said there's a school board election."
"How would she know?"
"Well she had to get a sitter. That's where her little boy is -- over there, in the park. I'll bet he's the one by the lake. He's got a sailboat and it's headed for this little string of ducks ... look at that!"
"What? What?"
"The little boat. It sailed right through the line of ducks ... now it's headed for the other side of the lake. The little kid is running like heck around the lake trying to get there before his sailboat does."
"Gee, I wish I could see."
"You will, you will, as soon as they let you sit up. You're a sick man Parker ... remember?"
Every day the park was different, and every day Mr. Vincent had a different story to tell.
"It's cloudy today -- it looks cooler. You can see ripples on the lake."
"Any kids in the park?"
"Not so many as yesterday."
"You'll tell me when you see something, Vinny ... won't you?
Mr. Vincent turned his head back to the window. "I see a couple walking under the trees at this end of the lake."
"What do you mean, 'couple'?"
"You know what I mean. They're walking together. The man has his arm around her and her hand is on his shoulder. They just stopped by the willow -- you remember the willow, Parker?"
"Yeah, I remember. What are they doing now?"
"What do you suppose?"
"How the heck do I know! I'm layin' here flat on my back ... you can see. I can't."
"They're kissing." A moment or two passed and Mr. Vincent turned to Parker
... "They're still kissing. How long can you hold a kiss without breathing?"
"You breathe through your nose, remember -- you can go on for hours. ... they still at it?"
Mr. Vincent took a quick look out the window. "No, they're walking off arm in arm. Those were the days, remember Parker?"
"You kiddin'? I proposed to my wife in that same park."
"By the willow tree I'll bet."
Both men could hardly wait the afternoon of the parade. When the nurse came in at three o'clock, both Mr. Vincent and Parker were on edge. They checked the route of the march in the morning paper, "They'll be coming down Fifth Street then turning north up into the park," Parker said. "You'll be able to see them all the way up to the exit." He looked up anxiously at Mr. Vincent. "Well. Well, what do you see?"
"Gimme a chance, will you. I only got two eyes." He sat up extra straight. "Beautiful day for a parade ... I can see the High School band."
"Are you sure it's the High School Band? My grandson's in the band."
"What color uniforms?"
"They wear green and white. My grandson plays the clarinet."
"Gimme a break. They're a block away, I can't pick out a clarinet a block away. I can see the tubas and the drums though."
"He marches right in front of the tubas." Parker looked puzzled. Shouldn't we be able to hear them from here?"
"No. Not with these double glazed windows -- you can't hear anything through these windows. Like the traffic down there -- there's traffic in the street below, you can't hear any of that either."
One hour a day may not seem a lot but for both men it was an hour that sustained them throughout the sleepless hours of the night. Parker would close his eyes and relive the scenes that Mr. Vincent had painted for him. Mr. Vincent, in turn, felt as a great artist might feel -- painting a picture for someone who could not see.
The nurse was particularly energetic that final afternoon. Her rubber soles squeaked on the tile floor as she put on the brakes next to Mr. Vincent's bed. "Three o'clock, Mr. Vincent. Time to sit up -- get some air into those lungs." She rapped on the side rail of his bed -- "Let's go, let's go ... Mr. Vincent ... " There was a pause, then she spoke his name more gently. "Mr. Vincent, Mr. Vincent ... oh dear God no. No. No!"
"What's the matter with Vinny. Nurse? What? What?" She turned and with her hand covering her mouth, she ran from the room.
She was back in a moment with the floor doctor and a specialist. Two nurses followed them with an EKG machine. Parker lay there and tried to make eye contact with someone, but all eyes were on Mr. Vincent.
The floor doctor straightened up and shook his head. "He's gone," he said, "Been gone at least a half hour or more." He waved off the two nurses with the EKG machine. The surgeon searched for a heartbeat at Mr. Vincent's wrists, neck and leg. He finally straightened up also and closed Mr. Vincent's eyes. The nurse was shaken and the floor doctor put his arm around her ... "It's okay. It's okay. It happens. Nothing you could have done." He pulled the sheet up. "Let's get him downstairs."
The nurse, the last to leave, was still sobbing; she looked at Parker as she left. "I'm sorry Mr. Parker."
"It's not your fault."
"I hate it when these things happen. I'll never get used to it. Are you okay? Can I get you something?" She brightened up a little and said, "There's good news for you, by the way. Your X-rays show the cartilage is building -- you'll be starting on re-hab." He listened to her shoes squeak on the tile floor as she hurried out of the room.
He lay there looking at the covered figure. The man who had been his eyes for the past month. Now, with his own eyes closed, he could see the park, the children by the lake, the lovers, the parade -- as clearly as the day Mr. Vincent described them. "What would these last two weeks have been like without Vinny? Never got a chance to thank him, did you Parker? Course you did -- you had all the chances in the world." He wished he'd taken the time -- once in a while -- just to say, "Thanks Vinny. Thanks for seeing for me." Now it was too late, who was going to see for him now?
A sleepy eyed attendant came in with a gurney. He pulled it up to Mr. Vincent's bed and looked at Parker. "Lost a bunky, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a curtain around Mr. Vincent's bed and went to work. When he pulled the curtain back again, the bed was empty.
The bed stood empty against the wall by the window. Parker could still see Mr. Vincent there, looking out the window with the back of the bed cranked up. His face would often break into a smile when he saw something to humor him, and he would turn the scene into words so Parker could see it with him. He wondered if the nurse would let him have that bed by the window. He was responding to the first week of therapy and his spine was better now, there was less pain and it was torture to lay there not knowing what was happening outside.
"How are we doin' Mr. Parker?" The nurse charged in pulling a cart with one hand and shaking a thermometer down with the other. Without waiting for an answer she put the thermometer in his mouth. "Gonna give you a sponge down Mr. Parker. Gonna get up real close and personal."
"Can I ask you a question?" Parker said around both sides of the thermometer.
"What's on your mind, hon?"
"I was wondering if I could be moved to the bed by the window -- where Mr. Vincent used to be."
"Sure. Why not? You're gonna have a new bunky the end of the week, he can
take over on your side. I don't know what you want with the window though, there's nothing to see out there."
"The world is out there."
The nurse shrugged, "It's up to you, hon. I'll roll you over when I'm done, okay?"
He wanted to be alone when he looked outside. What was out there was between Vinny and him. Nobody else had a right to that view, it was theirs. When the nurse was finished with him she wheeled Mr. Vincent's bed out of the way and rolled Parker over to the window. He waited, watching her finish up around the room -- looked up at the ceiling and listened for the squeak of her rubber soles to fade away as she walked out of the room and back down the hall.
He tried to sit up and a stabbing pain in his lower back stopped him cold. He held tightly to the bed rail until he could stand the pain no longer and dropped back panting and drained of strength. His eyes closed and he counted 'til ten waiting for the pain to subside -- then he tried again. He was able to raise himself on one elbow. The pain in his lower back was fierce and unrelenting but he stayed with it. His chin was almost on a level with the window sill, and if he could just ... just push a little more ... that's all dear God ... just an inch more.
He got the inch and he brought his face to the window. He opened his eyes and looked out. There was a brick wall! Nothing!
Nothing but a brick wall!
In Jefferson Memorial Hospital, two men, both in bad shape, were confined to a room in the cheerless recovery wing on the twelfth floor. It was a small room, no bigger than 10 by 12 feet and it was connected to another room of identical size by a tiny bathroom. Mr. Vincent, the man in the bed by the only window was doing poorly after the removal of his lung. He was in severe pain most of the time, and every afternoon the nurse came in and propped him up to a sitting position to clear the accumulated fluid. He sat there by the window and between labored breaths he told his roommate, Parker, all the things he saw outside.
It was good for Parker. Parker was in an accident last month and his lumbar vertebrae was dislocated, resulting in the loss of cartilage between them. He was forced to lie perfectly still on his back until it healed. All he could see was the ceiling curtain track and the face of the nurse when she bent over him.
The two men talked through the long night and during the early morning hours. They spoke of their families and friends, their jobs and their experiences in the war. They were restless and resentful of their confinement in Jefferson Memorial and the waste of the precious time left to them in their senior years. They dreaded the bed pan and the cold wash cloth -- and although they wanted to be left alone they were filled with sadness during visiting hours if no one came to see them. Worst of all they lost track of the world outside.
Whenever Mr. Vincent was propped up by the window, Parker would ask him, "What do you see Vinny?"
Mr. Vincent would hesitate before answering, partly because of the pain and partly because he wanted his words to be worthy of the scene, "Well, first of all it's a beautiful day. The kids must have the afternoon off from school ... they're all over the park. I remember now, the nurse said there's a school board election."
"How would she know?"
"Well she had to get a sitter. That's where her little boy is -- over there, in the park. I'll bet he's the one by the lake. He's got a sailboat and it's headed for this little string of ducks ... look at that!"
"What? What?"
"The little boat. It sailed right through the line of ducks ... now it's headed for the other side of the lake. The little kid is running like heck around the lake trying to get there before his sailboat does."
"Gee, I wish I could see."
"You will, you will, as soon as they let you sit up. You're a sick man Parker ... remember?"
Every day the park was different, and every day Mr. Vincent had a different story to tell.
"It's cloudy today -- it looks cooler. You can see ripples on the lake."
"Any kids in the park?"
"Not so many as yesterday."
"You'll tell me when you see something, Vinny ... won't you?
Mr. Vincent turned his head back to the window. "I see a couple walking under the trees at this end of the lake."
"What do you mean, 'couple'?"
"You know what I mean. They're walking together. The man has his arm around her and her hand is on his shoulder. They just stopped by the willow -- you remember the willow, Parker?"
"Yeah, I remember. What are they doing now?"
"What do you suppose?"
"How the heck do I know! I'm layin' here flat on my back ... you can see. I can't."
"They're kissing." A moment or two passed and Mr. Vincent turned to Parker
... "They're still kissing. How long can you hold a kiss without breathing?"
"You breathe through your nose, remember -- you can go on for hours. ... they still at it?"
Mr. Vincent took a quick look out the window. "No, they're walking off arm in arm. Those were the days, remember Parker?"
"You kiddin'? I proposed to my wife in that same park."
"By the willow tree I'll bet."
Both men could hardly wait the afternoon of the parade. When the nurse came in at three o'clock, both Mr. Vincent and Parker were on edge. They checked the route of the march in the morning paper, "They'll be coming down Fifth Street then turning north up into the park," Parker said. "You'll be able to see them all the way up to the exit." He looked up anxiously at Mr. Vincent. "Well. Well, what do you see?"
"Gimme a chance, will you. I only got two eyes." He sat up extra straight. "Beautiful day for a parade ... I can see the High School band."
"Are you sure it's the High School Band? My grandson's in the band."
"What color uniforms?"
"They wear green and white. My grandson plays the clarinet."
"Gimme a break. They're a block away, I can't pick out a clarinet a block away. I can see the tubas and the drums though."
"He marches right in front of the tubas." Parker looked puzzled. Shouldn't we be able to hear them from here?"
"No. Not with these double glazed windows -- you can't hear anything through these windows. Like the traffic down there -- there's traffic in the street below, you can't hear any of that either."
One hour a day may not seem a lot but for both men it was an hour that sustained them throughout the sleepless hours of the night. Parker would close his eyes and relive the scenes that Mr. Vincent had painted for him. Mr. Vincent, in turn, felt as a great artist might feel -- painting a picture for someone who could not see.
The nurse was particularly energetic that final afternoon. Her rubber soles squeaked on the tile floor as she put on the brakes next to Mr. Vincent's bed. "Three o'clock, Mr. Vincent. Time to sit up -- get some air into those lungs." She rapped on the side rail of his bed -- "Let's go, let's go ... Mr. Vincent ... " There was a pause, then she spoke his name more gently. "Mr. Vincent, Mr. Vincent ... oh dear God no. No. No!"
"What's the matter with Vinny. Nurse? What? What?" She turned and with her hand covering her mouth, she ran from the room.
She was back in a moment with the floor doctor and a specialist. Two nurses followed them with an EKG machine. Parker lay there and tried to make eye contact with someone, but all eyes were on Mr. Vincent.
The floor doctor straightened up and shook his head. "He's gone," he said, "Been gone at least a half hour or more." He waved off the two nurses with the EKG machine. The surgeon searched for a heartbeat at Mr. Vincent's wrists, neck and leg. He finally straightened up also and closed Mr. Vincent's eyes. The nurse was shaken and the floor doctor put his arm around her ... "It's okay. It's okay. It happens. Nothing you could have done." He pulled the sheet up. "Let's get him downstairs."
The nurse, the last to leave, was still sobbing; she looked at Parker as she left. "I'm sorry Mr. Parker."
"It's not your fault."
"I hate it when these things happen. I'll never get used to it. Are you okay? Can I get you something?" She brightened up a little and said, "There's good news for you, by the way. Your X-rays show the cartilage is building -- you'll be starting on re-hab." He listened to her shoes squeak on the tile floor as she hurried out of the room.
He lay there looking at the covered figure. The man who had been his eyes for the past month. Now, with his own eyes closed, he could see the park, the children by the lake, the lovers, the parade -- as clearly as the day Mr. Vincent described them. "What would these last two weeks have been like without Vinny? Never got a chance to thank him, did you Parker? Course you did -- you had all the chances in the world." He wished he'd taken the time -- once in a while -- just to say, "Thanks Vinny. Thanks for seeing for me." Now it was too late, who was going to see for him now?
A sleepy eyed attendant came in with a gurney. He pulled it up to Mr. Vincent's bed and looked at Parker. "Lost a bunky, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a curtain around Mr. Vincent's bed and went to work. When he pulled the curtain back again, the bed was empty.
The bed stood empty against the wall by the window. Parker could still see Mr. Vincent there, looking out the window with the back of the bed cranked up. His face would often break into a smile when he saw something to humor him, and he would turn the scene into words so Parker could see it with him. He wondered if the nurse would let him have that bed by the window. He was responding to the first week of therapy and his spine was better now, there was less pain and it was torture to lay there not knowing what was happening outside.
"How are we doin' Mr. Parker?" The nurse charged in pulling a cart with one hand and shaking a thermometer down with the other. Without waiting for an answer she put the thermometer in his mouth. "Gonna give you a sponge down Mr. Parker. Gonna get up real close and personal."
"Can I ask you a question?" Parker said around both sides of the thermometer.
"What's on your mind, hon?"
"I was wondering if I could be moved to the bed by the window -- where Mr. Vincent used to be."
"Sure. Why not? You're gonna have a new bunky the end of the week, he can
take over on your side. I don't know what you want with the window though, there's nothing to see out there."
"The world is out there."
The nurse shrugged, "It's up to you, hon. I'll roll you over when I'm done, okay?"
He wanted to be alone when he looked outside. What was out there was between Vinny and him. Nobody else had a right to that view, it was theirs. When the nurse was finished with him she wheeled Mr. Vincent's bed out of the way and rolled Parker over to the window. He waited, watching her finish up around the room -- looked up at the ceiling and listened for the squeak of her rubber soles to fade away as she walked out of the room and back down the hall.
He tried to sit up and a stabbing pain in his lower back stopped him cold. He held tightly to the bed rail until he could stand the pain no longer and dropped back panting and drained of strength. His eyes closed and he counted 'til ten waiting for the pain to subside -- then he tried again. He was able to raise himself on one elbow. The pain in his lower back was fierce and unrelenting but he stayed with it. His chin was almost on a level with the window sill, and if he could just ... just push a little more ... that's all dear God ... just an inch more.
He got the inch and he brought his face to the window. He opened his eyes and looked out. There was a brick wall! Nothing!
Nothing but a brick wall!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
New post up
Hey guys, there is a new post up on my story blog.
mypentomypage.blogspot.com
If you could, go over and rate/comment :)
THANKS :)
mypentomypage.blogspot.com
If you could, go over and rate/comment :)
THANKS :)
Monday, May 11, 2009
My Moanday Blues
This week, my Moanday blues
Include the fact that Middle School swimming is over
And they didn't even announce we were undefeated and won the invitational (champs)
Friday, May 8, 2009
15 things that God won't ask
God won’t ask the square footage of your house, but will ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
God won’t ask about the fancy clothes you had in your closet, but will ask how many of those clothes helped the needy.
God won’t ask about your social status, but will ask what kind of class you displayed.
God won’t ask how many material possessions you had, but will ask if they dictated your life.
God won’t ask what your highest salary was, but will ask if you compromised your character to obtain that salary.
God won’t ask how much overtime you worked, but will ask if you worked overtime for your family and loved ones.
God won’t ask how many promotions you received, but will ask how you promoted others.
God won’t ask what your job title was, but will ask if you preformed your job to the best of your ability.
God won’t ask what you did to help yourself, but will ask what you did to help others.
God won’t ask how many friends you had, but will ask how many people to whom you were a true friend.
God won’t ask what you did to protect your rights, but will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.
God won’t ask in what neighborhood you lived, but will ask how you treated your neighbors.
God won’t ask about the color of your skin, but will ask about the content of your character.
God won’t ask how many times your deeds matched your words, but will ask how many times they didn’t.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
LGM
Ahh, the Little Green Machine.
Most of you probably never even heard of it.
Most of you probably never will.
But for those of you who live near me, and know me, you should know that...
I MADE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What is the Little Green Machine, you ask?
Only the coolest High School Band in the world.
You see, the Little Green Machine not only plays songs, but they DANCE
Yes. Dance.
And I don't mean boring formations.
I mean legs kicking, turning around, side sweeps, everything! WHILE THEY PLAY THE SONG.
Yeah. I'm excited.
Sound quality is bad, they sound soooo much better than that. But that's the basic gist.
Most of you probably never even heard of it.
Most of you probably never will.
But for those of you who live near me, and know me, you should know that...
I MADE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What is the Little Green Machine, you ask?
Only the coolest High School Band in the world.
You see, the Little Green Machine not only plays songs, but they DANCE
Yes. Dance.
And I don't mean boring formations.
I mean legs kicking, turning around, side sweeps, everything! WHILE THEY PLAY THE SONG.
Yeah. I'm excited.
Sound quality is bad, they sound soooo much better than that. But that's the basic gist.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Wordless Wednesday
They are so fuzzy!!! Ugh. That makes me so mad! They are so cool and crisp on my computer. Blogger. Ugh.
All images are under copyright. Don't copy.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Hey
Hey people...
Since my English class just ended, I'm finally going to release the address for my story blog. I haven't posted yet but I've done a bunch of work on the name and the header for a while.
So what is this blog?
This blog is a way to let me finally bring my creative side of writing out. I've been doing formal writing all year long and it's wearing me out.
How's this going to work?
Each week I'm going to post a sequel to a story written the week before. Like a sitcom, only in writing.
What kind of story will it be?
Most likely a fairy tale :)
I'll release the address as soon as I have the first post written up.
Since my English class just ended, I'm finally going to release the address for my story blog. I haven't posted yet but I've done a bunch of work on the name and the header for a while.
So what is this blog?
This blog is a way to let me finally bring my creative side of writing out. I've been doing formal writing all year long and it's wearing me out.
How's this going to work?
Each week I'm going to post a sequel to a story written the week before. Like a sitcom, only in writing.
What kind of story will it be?
Most likely a fairy tale :)
I'll release the address as soon as I have the first post written up.
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