bruise some dignity.

I was looking through my envelope of treasured notes today and I found one from my friend Chandler. It was Freshman year during American history... Fifth hour (last period of the day), I remember, and first trimester. Our class was watching a movie... I think on the meat packing industry (very interesting, I recommend you watching it).
It goes something like this:

ChanChan- Hi. do you want anything else besides one Kit-Kat?

Me- Umm, no... Why are you getting me one again? I'm really confused and it's dark.

ChanChan- Because you're my competition and since you became it, my grade has raised in this class. So I'm rewarding you so that you feel that you actually have a purpose in life and go do something drastic like kill someone. And so you can gain some weight because you are really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really skinny.

Me- >=[ RAAWR! I'm not as skinny as I used to be! Dangit!

ChanChan- Christ, you must have been like the skinniest person ever.

Me- ...Shut up.

PENNY SAVING TIP: If you're really skinny, don't help anyone.

you are what you choke down.

Catherine took me out for Chinese today to cheer me up. It worked. A little. It's nearly impossible to get me out of my state of misery or my mind out of the gutter. You know, I think I like being sad and lifeless.
Sweet, if you think I was dramatic before, you should see me now. No joke. I'm like the undead Juliet, a corpse princess spouting off poetics lines of depression. Attractive? My eyes hold no happiness.

Anyways, it was one of those buffets that I love, because I can get whatever I want and how much I want. Woo hoo (Wamu). I think I had four plates of individual stuff... But that doesn't matter.

"I dare you," I smirked. We both stood staring at the gross rolls of sushi.
"I might if you will." She made a face.
"Fine." I grabbed a piece that had orange tinted rice with what seemed carrots and corn in it. Dear God.
She didn't grab a piece, of course. I have to be the taste tester first. Is it poisonous? If E dies first, yes. If she twitches and writhes on the ground? Don't eat it. Poke her, too. Just for the fun of it.
The three of us sat at our table, Cath, me, and her mum. I stabbed at the pathetic disgust with my chopsticks.
"I'm clueless as how to eat this thing," I stabbed at it again.
They laughed. I retched. It smelled horrible. Like.. raw fish (Good job, E!)
I believe it took me a few minutes to muster of my bravery and pick the sushi up with my hands and sink my teeth into half of it.

I've never tasted anything more fishy or terrible in my life (except for seaweed and anchovies). I chewed, and they laughed harder at my face. Oh, sure, they can laugh. They're not the ones suffering! I swallowed with a little difficulty, ignoring my body's screaming and pleading gagging reflex. I choked that crap down with mac and cheese, pronto.

My first real laugh since Monday came a little later on when I was poking Catherine, trying to get her to eat her sushi, which she picked up a little earlier.

"Et yo sushay," I prodded her, just as a Chinese waitress walked by. Oops. I snorted into my arm and tried not to cry with laughter.
And then I couldn't stop. We both had tears streaming down our cheeks as I choked on my pudding and stuck my finger in her tapioca. Immature? Mm, just a might bit.

The real good time was just as we were leaving and Catherine finally popped the sushi into her mouth.
Now that was funny.
Her face instantly morphed into a look of pure terror and nausea. She actually started rocking back and forth as she chewed, her eyes tearing up.
Naturally, I was snorting and wheezing with laughter, banging my fist on the table. She ended up spitting it out and I ended up getting a fantastic picture of her face.

I had fun. Even though not for one moment did I forget my troubles.

LESSON: When you're feeling depressed, go to a cheap Chinese buffet with your friends and dare each other to eat the grossest thing there. I guarantee it's a blast.

smelling sharpies.

We all do stupid things. It's human nature. Sometimes we just do too many stupid things that we basically lose sight of what we're really supposed to be doing. Making sense? We forget the line between right and wrong or the consequences of what might happen.

Well, I'm gonna save your pennies and tell you what do do. Because I'm bossy and miserable like that.

1. Keep your mushy mush stuff to yourselves. Once it's out, it never gets back in. Like the fat puppy through the doggy door because his butt can't fit.

2. Think of the pros and cons. If it has more pros, go for it. More cons? Keep it, yo.

3. Did something really stupid? Saying sorry in a heartfelt way helps. Sometimes.

4. Bang your head against the wall multiple times, like me. It makes you think straighter.

5. Laugh. Then cry.

Laugh because what you did was ridiculously funny the way it comes out. Then you cry because... well. I guess it just depends on the situation. You know I love you.

lemme at cha.

The Wii is perhaps the most technologically advanced and graphically amazing game system in history. Not only does it have really fun games, it also provides a discrete way of exercise, mainly in the arm region.

And I, mind you, do my best to avoid any type of exercise unless I'm having a rare moment of self-motivation.

Wii Sports, ironically, is my favorite game for the Wii. It has tennis, baseball, bowling, boxing, and, unfortunately, golf (for which I have no patience nor understanding).



Two days ago, I decided to try boxing for the first time. Generally when playing one of the sports for the first time, it'll go through a sequence of showing you how to play and control your Mii (player). I tried to speed it up and my enthusiasm for the game needed no pushing.

I was in the ring (or more of my person) and I was up against a mean looking dude with no hair and big eyes. I growled. Make my day, bucko.

I gripped the two controllers and started throwing my fists in the air, punching wildly. I can imagine what I looked like, arms flailing wildly.

"IN THE FACE! DIE! PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!" I screamed, leaping around the room. I was beating this wimp to a pulp.

"E," Catherine's voice sounded slightly amused, the point of which I ignored her.

"DIE!" I shrieked again, giving him a blow to the face. Muaha. E, the dominate ruler. I'll own your soul, pig.

"E, it hasn't started yet."

"What?" I snapped, irritated how she was interrupting my winning.

"It hasn't started yet. It's showing you what to do."

I stopped, looking at the now still players on the screen, as if they were chatting all this time about daisies and such.

"Oh."

anger don't need no fixin

Last night I found myself in one of those predicaments that I'm sure everyone finds themselves in often.
And I'm pretty sure I didn't look so pretty.

Count your blessings you weren't there next to me.

Just to go over rather briefly (because if I really start going, I won't shut up.) I had a livid fight via text with someone I hold closest to my heart, except for my dear friend Catherine. Mainly it was about my relationship with gays and how that person found that highly disgusting that I talk/am friend with some.
Well, staple me to a wall and call me paper. Apparently I've done something terribly, terribly wrong.
Frankly, I don't give a flying rat's hat. And let's just say my language over that conversation could have been a little more PG-rated. Oops (notice dripping sarcasm).

While sitting there, rage running through my heated veins, I could practically hear the grinding of my teeth echo in my room, and the shredding of my poor pillow. I'll admit, I threw my phone twice, but instantly grovelled after it. That thing is my life. So, I resorted to not throwing things and feeling my pupils dilate. Very interesting. Note- feel eyes dilate once a day.

Being me, I decided to make a short list of others things to resort to when you find yourself royally pissed.

1. If you find yourself grinding your teeth, grab Mr. Cuddles the Teddy Weddy and stuff him in your mouth. Save the teeth!
2. Have the urge to scream? Stick your head out the window and shriek at the kids next door to ge the hell off your lawn, even if they aren't. Who cares if they think you're nuts?
3. Kick the nearest, soft thing to you, cat or not.
4. Tearing your pillow in half? On to the mattress! Fulfill your dream of becoming world's strongest person when angered (aka The Incredible Hulk)

garden of life

"I'm out to the battlefield," I stepped through my screen door and was greeted by such a wave of heat, my church clothes were sticky immediately.
"May the force be with you." my mum replied, thinking herself witty.

When I say 'battlefield', I'm hardly underestimating. My garden in the backyard seemed like it was under alien invasion. You couldn't even tell I have lillies or whatever I planted last year. More of what mum planted.
Looking at that green, forest, it was rather humorous. My poor neighboors had to endure that sore sight for the whole spring and summer. As long as their whiney, screaming children suffered, I don't feel much remorse.
Nevertheless, it was rather morbid. I took out my phone and snapped a picture. Sending it to my heart, John, I wrote, "My garden. xD It needs some work."
"Just a tad." he texted back. His sarcasm has never been sharper.
Just a tad? Someone could quite literally be lost in that jungle. And I, armed with hatchet and spear, must enter it and hack it all down, and save their poor, tortured souls.


I don't even know why the idea crossing my mind that wearing khaki pants and a little sweater in ninety degree weather wasn't a good idea. Or the fact it'd be worse weeding. I'm not to bright with a little thing called common sense at times. I lied. I really mean all the time.
Obviously, I instantly regretted it as I pulled on the dishwashing gloves (we didn't have any gardening gloves that weren't covered in spider poo or whatever it was.) and faced the music. I wasn't one inch into that monster and my knees were already up in plants pretending to be daisies.
As I pulled and ripped ruthlessly, I began to think. This garden (if you will) is very much like life.
When we don't keep up on things, erasing the 'stuff' we don't need, it grows and grows until we're being choked. Everything gets out of control and we have to work three times as hard getting rid of it than we did planting what we did want and need.

Up until that point of my thought train, I found myself staring down a gigantic tan spider resting on a black-eyed susan. Needless to say, it's rhetorical to ask my reaction. I must have jumped back four feet in one quick movement.

"Ohmygod, I was just face to face with a spider!" I texted to John, still recovering.
"Ahhhhh" was his response.

'Ahhhh' indeed.

It took me a few short minutes to get back into gear. I cautiously checked every flower I went by to make sure no deadly tarantulas were creeping about. Before too long, I was ripping every suspicious plant out of the soil mercilessly, lily or not.
I began to ponder again as sweat formed on my brow.

Even we do get motivated to start cleaning our 'weeds' out from our lives, we start out pretty good, but then we get lazy. We tear out the bigguns, but leave the tiny ones that are just beginning because we don't feel like bending over and trying to pull them out.

Fifteen minutes later I ran back in the house, done done DONE with all this dandelion and chinese lantern business.

If you really want to know, all I accomplished was making the stone path visible. To hell with the other weeds poking out on the sides.

To the Bride and Groom

Weddings are stressful buggers, as we all know. For my sister, Kim, it's hell, financially. For me, it's a rose-infested nightmare.

In the beginning of her engagement, she told me one night (while watching my dogs do a load on the lawn) of her fairy tale wedding with Andy. It would be in the golf course when all the flowers were blooming and she'd have me with four of her best friends as the bride's maids, all in cherry red gowns. And I thought, sweet, a bride's maid.
"I want you to be my maid of honor, E." she smiled at me.
I stared at her, owl eyes even more owl-y. "Me? What about your friend Nikki... Or Melody?"
Me. A twiggy, bug-eyed fifteen-year-old being a maid of honor stroke such a wave of blasphemy in me, I laughed.
"I want you, my baby sister, to be next to me when I get married." she replied, then gave a peal of giggles. "Andy's best man is his brother, Eric. Which is pretty funny because he's, like, three of you. Watching you two walk down the aisle together will be hilarious!"
Oh, great. A man twice as tall, and three times as wide walking me down. I'll be jogging to keep up. That'll look lovely.
"That also means," Kim cut in, snapping me from my ridiculous thoughts of me having to sprint to keep pace with a giant called Eric. "You'll have to do the speech. Knowing you and you're writing, you'll do fine."

And that's when it all crashed down on me. Speech? That's every teenager's worst enemy! It's horrible enough at high school, but in front of maybe forty people?

The toast is probably every maid of honor's phobia, at least every one that I know.
This conversation, in fact, took place many months ago, in the year of 2007. Since then, Kim has called me and said that financial fate was not friends with her and Andy. The golf course was off. To the Court Room! She then told me about the reception.

"Oh, it's gonna be great, E. We're gonna have a DJay and he's gonna play everything!" She did a little dance maneuver that is usually distinguished with hip hop and the like.
"Even... rap?" I hid my grimace, thinking of my parents sitting on the side line, with the sticky bass and vulgar words going through them. And me, being in the throng of grinding twenty-somethings. Dear God, if you're there, HELP.
"Yeah, of course." she laughed, pushing me slightly as we walked through my screen door.
Oh, perfect.

She called me a few months later and gave me the sad scoop of how finances were getting tighter. Her voice sounded frazzled and worn. A side effect of the wedding, no doubt.
"We got the court house, but I had to cut all my bride's maids out except for you. And now all the people that can attend are close friends and family." She paused, sighed, then added, "And I had to cancel my wedding dress order and your dress, too. They were too much out of our budget."
At this, a little gloom cloud rained on my head. Darn. I loved Kim's beautiful, flowing white dress with scarlet trimming. And, not to mention, the gorgeous, strapless apple red dress that actually fit my tiny frame.
We planned to go dress shopping together, but that ended not happening. Me and mum found a red one for me at DEB that was roughly forty bucks, and Kim found an exact replica of her previous gown for hundred dollars cheaper. I guess some things do work out. Hallelujah.

The bridal shower was orginally supposed to be at an elite country house. Notice how I say 'originally'. Budgets had to be cut in tighter. It ended up being at Nikki's house, which was nice. A lot of Kim's family members were there, who I've never met and felt a little awkward around. You see, Kim is my dad's daughter. He was married to her mother until he divorced her, found my mum, had me, then married her. We were the 'other' family.
While there, Kim was describing to Jen (Miss Ive, as some of you may know her) her bacherolette party.
"Yeah, I went with a couple friends earlier to a bride party that was to get you to buy this company's products. You know, sex toys and other sexy things. So, I ordered some of those for my party..."
Something I really didn't want to know about my sister or come into the conversation about.

The time had been going so fast, I completely forgot about... THE SPEECH. The more I remembered about it, the more it began haunting me. I'll be completely honest and admit I had I nightmare about it. 'To the Bride and Broom- Groom! I meant Groom! Oh crap."
Should it be long and detailed, or short and witty?
I feel like I'm stressing more than the Bride! For some help, I resorted to begging Jen (aka Miss Ive) for advice.

"Short, and to the point. Maybe three lines at the most. Some of the best toasts are that." she said today while I scrubbed dishes.
Whew! Now I can cross 'write a novel' off my list for toasts.
You know, I think I got something.

"Love is forever and kind
Love is a big pain in the behind.
Kim and Andy, the best to you."

introductions are futile. ANIMAL TESTING

Ladies, check your war paint.

I have recently been informed just why exactly all the huss and fuss is about every time I look at a shampoo bottle it says 'No Animal Testing'. And how.

According to PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals)Media Center, millions (millions!) of animals, domestic or wild, are being locked up in laboratories for the experimentation of biology, psychology, biochemistry, physiology, genetic cloning, and bio-warfare. The research I read is incredibly, unbelievably, hellishly grotesque. Before coming into knowledge, I never gave it much thought whether my conditioner or lipstick was animal tested or not. To be honest, I thought the labs just put the finished product onto the animal. Like applying lipstick on the dog's slobbery mouth to see how well the color stood out and if it was durable or not. I was terribly naive.

One example of this brutal truth takes place in the Columbia University. Inside the laboratory, a PETA investigation crew came across caged baboons. These primates, they saw, were suffering and dying from untreated, careless surgery that was conveniently done without painkillers. Some of the monkeys had metal pipes implanted in their skulls for research of stress. For the female baboons, they were purposefully impregnated and given ridculous amounts of morphine and nicotine. Their unborn babies underwent surgery as well. Have these brutes any shame? This is just one example, mind you. Imagine all the rest of the universities and organizations that are injecting and torturing millions of animals that, frankly, can't fight for themselves. This is inhumane. It must be stopped.

As previously stated, I say to all my female readers, go to your make up bag and pour it out. Look at each individual container and search for the words 'no animal testing'. As for you men, check your hair gel and body spray. If you care, throw it out if it has no indication of no testing. Give a little help to these creatures. What really blows me away if the fact that some people can watch or read stories like this and not blink an eye or have a piece of their heart crumble. I pity them.

To help you and save you some time (I am the Penny Saver, after all), I've researched a list of companies that DO test on animals. If you have a product by any of the listed, I implore: please throw it out. Tell your friends. Start a revolution.

The list I've found at http://search.caringconsumer.com/, and I thank them from the bottom of my heart. Here goes.

Arm & Hammer (Church & Dwight)

Bic Corporation

Church & Dwight (Arm & Hammer)

Clairol (Procter & Gamble)

Clorox

Colgate-Palmolive Co.

Cover Girl (Procter & Gamble)

Dial Corporation

Johnson & Johnson

L'Oreal USA

Lever Bros. (Unilever)

Max Factor (Procter & Gamble)

Mead

Melaleuca

Mennen Co. (Colgate-Palmolive)

New Dana Perfumes

Noxell (Procter & Gamble)

Olay (Procter & Gamble)

Pantene (Procter & Gamble)

Physique (Procter & Gamble)

Platex Products

Ponds (Unilever)

Procter & Gamble

Reckitt Benckiser

Richardson-Vicks (Procter & Gamble)

S.C. Johnson

Schering-Plough

SoftSoap Enterprizes (Colgate-Palmolive)

Suave (Unilever)

Unilever

And for all you tax payers, did you know some of that tax money is generally used to help pay for research? Well, knock me down with a shoe, lookie here. You're paying for this cruelty without even knowing! Want to stop this? All you have to do is write to the U.S. National Institutes of Health and the Canadian Institutes of Health Research and tell them basically you think animal experimentation is bull and abuse and you don't want a penny of your tax money going to it. It would be an awesome idea to suggest that research should be transported to clinics only.

Let's save the world.