Heyyyyyyyy Wattttt izzzzz uppppp????

I, in my (failing) quest to be modern, use AIM to talk to my friends. I am not nearly adept in chat etiquette. I thought I knew enough at "lol", "btw", and "ttyl" but upon "chating" with people I have found that everything has changed, again.

The first sign was when I was greeted with a "heyyyy" instead of "hey". Why the extra "y"s? Apparently subtracting vowels is also popular. "whts hpping?". OMG is now oh-em-gee. For some reason "cool" has been replaced by "kewl"; does it not take more effort to change letters then to repeat them? I'm told the reason for the new language is to be faster, but I think it is just to have an excuse to make up a new language

I understand the concept of "lol"- its what you say when something is funny, but now it is just what you say when you don't know how to respond. Lol may be the hardest thing to respond to, but apparently I'm supposed to respond with another lol or haha. I've seen conversations of just hahas and lols; I'm wondering what is so funny! What is the point of chatting when no information is communicated?

Imagine what a verbal IM conversation would sound like:

PERSON ONE: Heyyyy (pronounced haaaaayyy)

PERSON TWO: Heyyyyy

PERSON ONE: Watz up?????? (pronounced like spelled- all question marks are said aloud)

PERSON TWO: nm u? (pronounce nim u)

PERSON ONE: nm

PERSON TWO laughs

PERSON ONE laughs

and on and on...

another thing iv notticed iz dat ppl are giving their similes multiple smiles. is dis a statement about multiple chined ppl? :)))))))). y r our smileys obeast????

ppl also think is is just FINE to florget caps and punctuation unless they add empasis!!! i dont get it

Still don't get it...

P.S. For some reason my post did not get published with the correct spaceing sorry.

Just Not My Day

I was walking Lily, trying to get her to poop in our yard instead of the neighbors before going around the block, when I tripped. I was just walking down the street and I tripped, without a witness, I just fell. One of those "Glad no one saw that" moments. Of course, everyone only has so many of these moments, and all of mine are spent on other random spastic moments of uncoordination, so while I was laying on the border of my and my neighbors yard, a truck, redneck included, drove by, of course, because of some reason beyond me, Lily had to poop, right there, right on the obviously distinguishable property line just enough on the neighbor's side to be considered their yard. Of course I forgot a pickup bag. Today wasn't exactly my day.

Imagine what it would look like to redneck. I was just driving by on my way to (insert redneck-like destination here) when I saw this girl about your (he says gesturing to Mary Loo aged about 12) age sniffn' the grass. She was laying out like roadkill on somebody's lawn. I can imagine the story at many family gatherings to come...*shutter*

Redneck stopped and asked if I was ok, making a theatrical effort to muffle his laugh. I managed to stutter out a "yeah, I'm fine". Of course Lily was still making quite a show still pooping, right in the neighbor's yard

I thought only characters in books and movies randomly fell without any reason. I've never seen a person just fall. Due to my knees which are apparently plotting against me, I could not get up. To any witness that may show up in the next few seconds of immobility it would seem like I was deliberately on the freshly dewed and damped grass face down. Of course, my knees waited untill several unconcered minivanners drove by to finaly relive me of my embaresment.

Today's just not my day.

Cheese Please!

I haven't had cheese pizza after waiting in a line full of my own age group since I turned old enough to say "no, you can go right ahead". I hopefully wait in the back of the line with other vegetarians and some Jewish people on kosher diets. We chat, conspiring against the mass of cheese pizza hogging 7th graders, but, because we are the type of people who end up in the back of the line, no action ever comes of it. Our stomachs growl in unison, trying to provoke us into cutting. We all stand in a horizontal line in the back, no one in front or behind the other; an assembled mass of vegetarianism and mutted cries for cheese.

When we finally come to the front we hopefully peer into the buffet and then, finding no cheese, we move quitely along. We weren't even in line. Don't mind us.

Somehow we collect enough courage to confront the lunch lady who's expression was screaming "Don't make my job difficult!"

Us: "is there any cheese left?"

Lunch Lady: No.

Us: Will you be making anymore today?

Lunch Lady: No

Us: is there anything vegetarian?

Lunch Lady: You can pick off the sausage.

We all leave. We know that it leaves a taste and defeats the purpose. So we graze on the chips they sell.

I don't understand why the cafeteria even makes any sausage; everyone hates it. The pizza line concept makes no sense. The type of people who are vegetarians are usually the type that will let a hungry meat-eaters in front to take the coveted cheese pizza.

"No it's okay you can go right ahead"... ugh, curse my lack of assertiveness!

Anti-controversy-post-posting-note:

I have nothing against meat eaters, I apologize if I offended anyone. I'm a vegetarian for good reasons that I know thoroughly but I do not think meat-eaters are any worse than vegetarians. My vegetarianism was a personal decision so please do not judge me for it.

A Laugh With A Job

Part of my morning get-the-heck-out-of-bed routine involves the daily hunt for the comics. It is sometimes interesting to see what random place they've put them today. Some mornings it's nestled in between the depressing international news and the less depressing but still depressing local news, others it's wedged in between sports and entertainment.

This morning they were finally found in the classified section.They weren't just next to the classifieds, they were in the middle.Who decided to put them there? They must have a wild sense of humor. What is this person saying? If you have enough time to read the comics in this economy you should stop being lazy and get off you're butt and find a job.

Thank goodness for child labor laws. I have an excuse to read the comics, the rest is depressing and I'm only a kid.

I wonder if the organizer for our ever-thinning local paper enjoys his job. Maybe he reads the comics every morning and wants to find them where he could find a new job that does not require getting up early just so Bob can have his sports pages in order when he gets up.

Maybe the organizer guy/girl has an unemployed spouse or roomie and wanted to organize a message just for them.

I'm still not liking this guy.

Comics are so pure and innocent; an escape from the bad news that is printed on every other page. Why would someone spoil them with reality?

Maybe the paper organizer meant well, to give unemployed job-seeking people a break- to relax and read the funnies for a bit, but that is forcing the loyal comics reader to fish through pages where job opportunities usually are.

Yet another morning, the glass of O.J. is half empty.

SAT

SAT. Must I say more? I must, because if I didn’t the hypothetical question would be weird and I would be slandering my reputation. Just saying it makes me feel so college-ish “SAT SAT SAT” ps (princess sparkle) mutters to herself with a smile. I should be sitting in some poetry reading and snapping softly in one hand while casually sipping on cheap coffee.

But unfortunately my hopes of Starbucks and poetry did not come true. Instead, I was embraced with purse-whacking, “My kid is a genius” bumper sticker-sticking, class schedule changing mothers and their children who cower in fear at such a large collection of moms like theirs.My father and I were baffled by the swarming crowd of honors students. We scuttle away to my testing room where a class full of horrified children sat, number two pencils in their shaking hands. My father leaves, might as well be leaving me with a pride of lions. I extend my quivering hand to the test monitor holding my photo id- my passport. The smiling about to go to France me stares up at the man. If I had known at that time what evil process I would have to endure with it I would have cried for that picture.

The children filed in in the same terrified fashion I did; mothers asking questions that aggravated the testing easily aggravated guy. The test guy who never offered us his name was shorter than my proud 5’3’’. His eyebrow(s?) covered most of his eyes which were magnified by his glasses that were those that any archetypal nerd or 80s dweller would be proud to wear, making him look like he has two large brown but graying parasites for eyes.I slid in to the nearest desk so I would have an escape route. Mr. Parasite was naming off names alphabetically and pointing to desks for each name. When my name came along he pointed to the cobwebbiest corner to ever befoul itself upon mankind. I felt like I was Scrooge watching the ghost of Christmas future point to his grave when I looked at his pudgy hand sticking out of his formal blue collard long sleeved shirt. Eventually the whole room was filled“If anybody is left-handed will you like to sit in the left hand desk?” boomed Mr. Parasite in a surprisingly masculine voice. I was surprised he would be so considerate but then I glanced at “the” left hand desk which was in the evil unkept corner adjacent to my evil unkept corner.

He droned on the SAT tester script and informed us the usual “How to correctly fill in an answer choice” drill that we will learn and have learned ever school day of our lives. They don’t even allow us to call them bubbles: that would be letting us have way too much fun.

We filled our names and other information that I wonder what use they will ever have for.We started the test and the clock ticked louder that any other. The blank white walls suddenly became interesting and the paper on my desk was like a speck of dust. I looked around at all the other children who were hunched over their test in deep concentration. I noticed Mr. Parasite was writing on something using his left hand periodically looking at his stopwatch he set to decimate in 25 minutes. My comfy sweat shirt that doubled as a blanket made me scorching though it was room temperature just moments ago.

I was panicking.

Between each section we had 10 minute breaks where we went out into the hall and ate Cheese Nips. These were awkward occasions where we were monitored by another test monitor person because we were not aloud to talk. I was the only girl who did not bring a Vera Bradley lunchbox to cradle her delicate cheese nips. This did not bother me I was proud of my bag but the uniform-ness just annoyed me.

Now, that it is over all I have to say for the acronym is:

SAT…bleh.