Prank @ MindSay 
joke
myclette has just told us that it is National Poetry month, and environgirl asked her to write a poem each day this month. I thought this was just what I needed to get my butt into gear and do some fun writing again. I may just keep them light; this one certainly is, and I hope you all enjoy....please feel free to write poems as well...I would love to see what all of you friends can do...I challenge you!
I will do day two and three tomorrow, so that I will be up to date.
Here goes; enjoy!
APRIL FOOL
I recall on this day, the one time when I
Was a substitute teacher, and oh, my, my, my!
The littlest tyke, in third grade was she
Pulled the wool o’er my eyes, beautifully!
She entered the room, had one leg well bound
She’d sprained her ankle and fallen aground
When she’d played in the park the previous day
I had no doubt that it had happened that way.
An hour went by and then we were called
For the library hour, ‘twas way down the hall
Down a flight of stairs was the way to the room
To walk all the way would surely be doom
That little miss hobbled so slowly
That I decided to help would be holy
I picked up the darling and took her downstairs
Depositing her at the desk with her wares
I wondered at first why she’d said she was fine
With the bandaged leg, and the dragging in line
I even carried her back up the steps
Just to discover that tradition she’d kept
“April Fool” she said, with cheeks that were red
She yanked off the bandage; that’s all that she said
Almost went skipping back down to class
So happy that she’d made of the teacher an…. ass!
Bonniegirl April 2008
Dixie currently feels:
Amused 
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How awesome is that smiley.
IT ROLLS.
Hur hur hur...
Wow, a lot of tags we have. A long title we have.
In actual fact, I'm just going to talk about some really insignificant events of the day - and smash them all into one blog.
I'm creative like that.
Hur hur, not.
I'm drinking Yazoo banana milkshake as I write this blog.
It was 75p - it's gone down in price by TEN PENCE.
...OMGWOW. 
Well, to begin with... First lesson today was Textiles.
I filled up four more pages in my sketchbook of coursework.
One of the pages though, I really like.
It's a reproduction of a piece of work I did previously.
There's the original drawing - presented in biro, pencil, coloured pencil and felt-tip.
It's a scene from a novel I'm working on; entitled: Experiment #1263: The Beginning.
The girl on the left is Experiment #1263, and the male on the right is Experiment #1264.
And there's what I made in textiles - by photocopying and enlarging the image, I then contructed a render of Experiment #1264 in tissue, fabric and paints.
I told Pips to poke his face.
She didn't like the texture of his eyeball and grimaced. The paint was still squishy - but not wet. I liked the texture, personally.
I also didn't have any grey fabric for his shirt - #1264's shirt is always grey, always will been and has been - so I used blue instead. It was the most suited fabric patch I had, after all.
It was Mother's Day on Sunday.
I took this photo two days before, but I forgot to upload it to my blog every day since.
Seeing as how I've remembered:
This is the necklace I bought my mam for a present. She was wearing it the other day - which made me smile.
I like seeing her wearing the jewelery I buy her.
I suppose everybody likes that feeling.
Just like when I see Emily wearing the shirt I bought her; it's the same feeling inside.
In the library after school, Pips and Claire were sat in the first aisle, playing on Claire's guitar.
Well, Claire was trying to teach Pips how to play something out of her tab book.
I decided I'd test them with the prank I'd been trying out all day.
I tried it on about... 20 people?
EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM CAUGHT ON.
Oooh, the rage.
Anyway, in Textiles, we use a lot of PVA glue to stick the fabrics down and together.
As you may or may not know - when it dries, you can peel it off - and it looks a little bit like peeling skin.
So, I covered the backs of both of my hands with it, and waited for it to dry.
Then, I'd go up to people saying: "Oh, my excema's getting really bad." - then I'd peel some off.
The Science cover teacher we had knew it was glue, after a few seconds; but she stated I was "simply revolting", which made me smile.
Here's some photos of it.
(Bear in mind, I took these photos with my mouth - as both of my hands are in the shot itself, I pressed the camera's buttons with my lips.)
Tee hee hee - PEELY.
It hurts sometimes when you pull it off.
Both of my hands are now completley hairless, too.
In the library, we were counting our teeth.
I have 30 teeth. I have more on the top row than I do on the bottom, but they're both symmetrical. I have an even number on each row.
I'm missing two wisdom teeth, but I have some already grown through. I don't know if I'll get anymore.
Pips only has about 24 teeth.
Claire has 20. - Though 3 of them should have fallen out, and have new ones growing OVER THEM, so that's 17.
...That really doesn't seem like many at all - seventeen.
And it's an odd number, they must be mismatched.
I don't spend much time looking at people's teeth - but on closer observation on quite a few of my friends... I actually have VERY straight teeth.
My two front ones don't overlap, they don't have gaps, and they're the same size.
Disregarding Emily - because she cheated and had a brace - I have the straightest teeth out of all my friends. I think, anyway. Mwah ha. :)
I have dentaphobia - and I'm beginning to fear; not only the dentists themselves, their tools and their needles, as well as the chair, the light, the scent and the rooms - but TEETH themselves!
...Teeth are scary... Oh yes.
On the way home, Pips was chewing on the wire on Claire's guitar amp as she was carrying it.
She then blurted out:
"URGH, it tastes SALTY. Claire, what the FUCK have you been DOING?!"
I laughed SO much. I couldn't stop.
My laugh is very loud, very high pitched, and very very very continual and repeatitive.
Though, some people also laugh when they hear it - like Pips, Claire, Sammie and Emily.
When Claire had left us, Pips and I carried on down Normanby road.
We got about five minutes down - and we heard a really loud BANG.
We turned around in time to see a white van running over A BAG OF FLOUR.
...I couldn't stop - Pips couldn't stop either.
There was a huge mountain of flour in the middle of the road.
...Of all the things to run over!
I came home and I downloaded some music.
I downloaded some more from the Guitar Hero soundtrack, along with some Muse, Rammstein and Skillet.
I'm suprised, I've found another Skillet song I actually like - and another three Thousand Foot Krutch songs that I DESPISE.
And it's TFK that have a decent singer!
Yes, the music is more important than the lyrics - but the talent of the singer (or NON-EXISTANT talent, as far as Skillet are concerned) is just as important.
I got to e-mail Emily a few times before she stopped responding.
She'll be on the way there now.
...Sigh, Dixie misses her already.
Alright. I won't mention anything about my week, because nothing substantial really happened. The time for Christmas Vacation was waxing near, and this waxing proccess inadvertantly and inevitably initiated the steadily exponential process of my waning capacity to care...about anything. Highlighting this fact was the advent of my Christmas Present, as promised by Chairo aka Katie M. Thinking, after the experience in the parking garage, that I had contracted some sort of viral illness and could be cared for by warm blankets and chicken noodle soup, she offered, as her personal Christmas present to me, to gather up her friends and drive down, and proceed to care for me in like manner. I informed her that these episodes of masculine labor pains lasted a relatively short duration consisting of merely a few hours at a time, meaning that I would be in outstanding health before she could ever pull off a stunt like this. Nevertheless, I refused to let an opportunity such as this pass me by.
So Thursday became the day appointed for my temporary entourage of feminine servants. The plan was interrupted, though, by a color belt test I had to be to that night. Nonetheless, most of these girls were leaving or preparing to leave on Friday, so I had to make room in my plans for both of my passions: girls and martial arts. They got here at about five, at which point there was an exchange of gifts...they were my gift; I actually gave them stuff.
The time came and we left for the Lindon studio. Mrs. West would have understood if I had passed up the test in order to be with my friends, but four of my students were testing, and another four pretesting (although only the faithful two showed up). They all did good.
The roads were getting worse and worse as the storm picked up, and since I couldn't leave (I was actually running the first half of the test) we relocated our plans for the evening to Hannah's house in Highland. As soon as the test was over I went up to go get the truck...which wasn't there. I wasn't sure if the girls were going to have any food, so I made a light dinner and went up there. I took the highway, which I still think is actually slower than the purple turtle road. The roads really were bad, but I'm comfortable on the snow. I did spin out...but that was on purpose.
Those roads are still...dark to me. The familiar sights are still synesthetically displeasing...deeply. Hatred and sadness, resentment and cold, inhuman uncaring enter my heart unbidden, and I have no cap or coping mechanism I can employ to keep myself well. It's a leftover from those months of terrible darkness that overshadowed my life, when I would seek that house out just to feel close to my one link to sanity, which in and of herself was the cause of so much turmoil. I would never knock, or even call. I usually just sat outside for hours at a time wishing she might notice and come see me. She probably wasn't even home most of the time. Sometimes I would feel bad enough to put on a tough face and go talk to her just the same. Most of the time nobody was home. Sometimes everyone but her was home. But most of the time I just wallowed indecisively, wishing to talk to her, but sure she didn't want an uncontrolably melodramatic emotive jackass ruining whatever wonderful mood she always seemed to be in, or else not wanting to annoy her parents, who were undoubtedly sick of me.
I need egg nog. Please hold.
Ah! That's better! Now, before I loose my will to live in a retrospective black hole of emotional bullshit, let's move on to the happy times that awaited me at the end of this ice-covered road.
The synesthesia wasn't heavy. It had to fight an uphill battle with my giddiness. After all, I was about to spend an undefined amount of time with a multiplicity of attractive females, or all of whom I think the world, and who appear to enjoy my company to an acceptable extent. You know, imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, but invitation is by far the most effective. All those years of being the nice guy finishing last are beginning to pay off. It's true that nice guys finish last, but we get the bigger trophy. Wow, that was two rewritten proverbial cliches in three sentences.
Frankly, if the trophy for being a nice guy is any extention of that night, I think I can stick it out for a few more years. Not that I could be anybody else even if I tried, but at least now I won't feel the need to gripe about all my efforts being unnapreciated. It appears that the Almighty has my back afterall.
I got up there, and I started to wonder if they had left for somewhere else and not told me. I was prepared to be upset. But Greg opened the door and I was invited in. I bugged Pipsqueak (a neccesity of some regularity) and went down to hang with the girls. I felt kind of like a n00b, as Katie was doing all the work, what with reheating the pizza and fetching this or that, which is traditionally my job. I realize now that had I offered - nay, insisted that I do it, I would have been held down by an unrelenting torrent of female pursuasion...of the physical sort. In retrospect, that may not have been totally undesireable ;)
We watched Phantom and Three Amigos. Meanwhile I was huggled, glomped, and waited upon by all manner of female hosts. I was forbidden from even the most menial tasks. The payment they demanded for my service was just that I sit there and be comfortable (http://jtobler.deviantart.com/art/Le-Scandale-de-la-Snuggelle-72689358)
The movies finished at about half past one. That's in the morning, yes. All but Hannah (and sorta Katie) had dropped off to sleep. I didn't want to go home, but I knew I had to. I mean, the only alternative was that I stay there, which was an unthinkable solution. I called my mom. As mad as she was, exhaustion and insomnia clouded her judgement. She was going to allow me to stay all night at a house full of ridiculously attractive females; a SERIOUS compromise of my moral code. I was too tired to care. Hannah talked me into it, much the same way I did my mother: an appeal to concerns of road safety and exhaustion. It was more exhaustion on my part, because, like I said, icy roads don't scare me except for in heavy traffic. I know all the techniques, including my personal favorite: Slow the #*%! down!!!
I don't know how I was talked into it. It helped that Hannah gave me a set of scriptures and my own set of enclosed walls with a locking door. It's not that I didn't trust those girls to be good...ah that's crap; I didn't trust them one bit, not in that sleep-deprived state. Especially not after that incident on the couch, which wouldn't have worried me if I hadn't enjoyed it. I couldn't help feeling bad about the situation, but I also couldn't resist the poofiness of the bed.
This is where I will end my account, because everything that happened after I awoke was heavily depressing. That and my eyes hurt for staring into this screen for so long.
Is anyone else as incensed by this story as I?
Nine kids broke into their high school and removed their property, ostensibly so that they and their friends would garner better grades on their final exams.
They were arrested and charged with a misdemeanor crime. Actually, B&E is a felony. Evidently the town is up in arms because (allegedly) they think that being arrested for that crime is over the top. *blinks* WHAT?? So, what they're essentially saying is that it's okay to break into a school and steal something that doesn't belong to you, but it is wrong to break into someone's home and steal something that doesn't belong to you.
This seems to be where the town divides. "They're JUST *kids*!!," they cry. "This could have been handled more privately," they moan. Why? Why *should* it be handled in a hush-hush manner? Should it be privatized because they're kids or should it be publicized because they're criminals?
If we sweep this type of behavior under the rug; if we excuse it as a teenage prank, we condone it and accept it as normal behavior. We would teach them that cheating is fine as long as you don't get caught. Nevermind the whole issue of "academic pressure" applied by any given community. We NEED academic pressure! What we need *more* than academic pressure is integrity, honesty, morality, and honor.
Ultimately, that is what is in question here: Morality. The parents of these children have obviously not instilled a moral compass in them. These are highschool kids. They're obviously not mentally challenged in any way because they developed a plan to break into the school, steal the exams, copy them, and distribute them to their friends. If they had killed someone, they'd tack on premeditation to the charges- naturally a felony.
These people want to allow their children to cheat the system AND themselves because they don't want their future to be ruined. Awwww. My thought is that they've already ruined their future by deciding that theft and cheating is the method by which to become successful-- and their parents think that's just spiffy.
What in the world is this country doing these days?? What was that old chestnut from Baretta? "Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."
If the people breaking into that school had been unknown to the community, their cries for justice would be heard across the world-- *against* the criminals. They need to wake up and face the music: Their children are thieves and cheats and need to be taken to task for their choices so that their futures *can* be successful-- in an honorable way.
The company that runs the Web site, RCH Networks Inc., said the system was not hacked into because no security breach was detected. Administrators say the girls must have somehow gotten the password. RCH helped the district track down the girls by supplying the identification numbers from computers that accessed the system, which authorities could then track to the girls' homes.
The two girls, ages 16 and 17, were charged in juvenile court on Friday and face expulsion.
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