Friday, November 07, 2003

And Off I Go
SweetCitroelle: i am officially a braceface!
Achyfi: I didn't realize that your face needed bracing.
SweetCitroelle: alas, neither did i.
Achyfi: Then why have your teeth met a metallic fate?
SweetCitroelle: they were feeling naked.
Achyfi: Then wear a God forsaken mouthguard.
Achyfi: Now they're strapped in kinky dominatrix ware.
Achyfi: *wear
SweetCitroelle: they think they're pretty.
SweetCitroelle: my upper lip does not agree.
SweetCitroelle: i cannot take this civil war of my facial regions anymore!
SweetCitroelle: my freckles, godblessthem, are remaining neutral.
Achyfi: Hahahah.
Achyfi: They're actually part of a Communist conspiracy.
Achyfi: They're tired of the inequality among birthmarks.
Achyfi: Little do they know that they'll probably fall under the tyrranous reign of the left nostril.
SweetCitroelle: so THAT's why it's been stocking up on snot missles.
SweetCitroelle: i thought it was just a cold.
Achyfi: It was a cold - but not JUST a cold. It's a biological warfare cold.
SweetCitroelle: but alas. if i have no turban-headed minons inhabiting my head, then who can i blame?
Achyfi: I'm assuming you haven't been informed of the eventual search of your nasal cavities for Osama Bin Laden.
SweetCitroelle: by whom was this search initiated?
SweetCitroelle: because, damnit, i want 87.5 billion dollars from them for the plastic surgery costs of restoring my face.
Achyfi: It was actually proposed by a few nostril-pervs.
SweetCitroelle: what, exactly, is a nose-perv?
Achyfi: But, upon further research, the department of Homeland Security agreed with the fact that your nose is indeed a place where we have not yet set foot.
Achyfi: Nostril-pervs get their jollies from the idea of cameras entering the nasal cavity.
SweetCitroelle: oh, no. i totally did NOT sign the papers for my nostrils to become the set of FOX's new reality series, "The Booger"
Achyfi: How about Survivor: Phlegmh Caverns
SweetCitroelle: "One tasty morsel of snot-meat is fought over by 25 different pinky fingers!"

Have a great weekend, everyone! I'm off to Milwaukee for a tournament, wish me luck!

Fresh squeezed by melly at 12:04 PM

Thursday, November 06, 2003

I know that life isn't highschool, even if mine is. Even so, I have come to the conclusion that everyone in the world is a geek; it's just that some have and glasses and braces and weird stuttering problems and some don't.
So far, I've never strayed into the former category. Glasses occasionally, but no metal has ever touched this non-stuttering mouth.
That is, unless, you're reading this after one-o-clock Thursday, November 6th, 2003. The day that will live in infamy. The day where Melly Goes To The Orthodontist.
I can feel the depression sinking in right now.
It's not that I'm trying to repeal my geek-dom. Hell, I'm going to Milwaukee this weekend for a student congress tournament; I'll fit right in that crowd with my new mouthgear. It's that I see something wrong about paying a guy thousands of dollars to make my mouth feel miserable for two years.
And, okay, the geekiness. We might all be geeks, but none of us really want to be. Face it. We all want to be in that deoderant commercial with Jason Giambi.
At least I haven't started to st-u-u-t-terrrr yet.
I looked into the mirrored goggles/corrective vision assistance and said, "My teeth and I need to be alone right now."
I couldn't see into his eyes, but his mouth twitched a bit. Nevermind. I slid my tongue up and down my teeth, committing the slippery smooth feeling to memory.
And then glue was applied and the deed was done.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 11:42 AM

Tuesday, November 04, 2003

Liver Homengenate, Or Why Melly Is Failing Biology
One day Melly walked into biology and saw a vile liquid sitting in vials on all of the desks. Ariana saw it too. "What's that?" they asked The Boy With The Shiny Red Moped.
"A desk." said the Shiny Red Moped Boy.
Melly and Ariana giggled. Shiny Red Moped Boy was such a dope. "No," said Melly. She pointed to the vile liquid. "What's this?" Shiny Red Moped Boy looked puzzled.
In came Teacher to the rescue. "That's liver homengenate," he told the children. "Cow liver whipped up in a blender with milk all yummy-like. Now go to work."
But Melly and Ariana did not want to go to work so early. They were too grossed out about the yummy-like liver and were too full from lunch. "What does liver homengenate do?" asked Ariana.
"A good question," said Teacher, who believed that highschoolers were cretins, but that pensions could be fun. "Watch carefully and I'll show you." First he got a pH testing strip from the scary dusty locked closet. Then he got some acid and poured it into the liver mush. The pH strip turned pretty colors.
Melly choked down barf, and ran in vain to the sink.
"Eww." said Ariana.
"Gosh!" said Shiny Red Moped Boy. "It's like magic!"
"Not like magic," Teacher corrected. "It is magic, Shiny Red Moped Boy."

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:05 PM

Monday, November 03, 2003

People Are Strange When You’re A Stranger
There’s this kid that looks exactly like the Jesus in the pictures at school. Long wavy brown hair, droopy mustache, warm eyes. My friend and I used to murmur “Amen” every time we passed him in the hallways, until he wore the Good Charlotte t-shirt and I discovered his name was Mike. No god of mine will ever be a Good Charlotte fan.
I used to wonder if he acknowledged his resemblance to Jesus, and if this resemblance was purposeful or not. Did he think he was God’s gift to humankind, or was he just too lazy to go in for a trim? I dared not to ask, for he was always accompanied by his death-rays-from-the-eyes girlfriend. At least, death rays were emitted from her eyes when she wasn’t making out with Jesus/Mike in the corner of the cafeteria at lunch.
I will wonder no longer. Mike cut his hair today into a mohawk, and I was kind of disappointed in the way that no one can tell you’re disappointed unless you tell them. So tell I did, because there was really nothing else to say.
As I was speaking, the girl with the messed-up face watched me intently with her too-large eyes; her mouth hanging open unconsciously. Breaths were sucked in ungracefully, and her left hand carried the weight of her head in lieu of her neck; hidden under a turtleneck.
She says her name is Virginia, "spelled like the state", and laughs at the funny things in her mind, occasionally drooling.
I wonder what she was thinking, and if she was happy.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:28 PM