Why does everybody flock to the stupid bulletins that say things like, "Your crush will realize they love you at midnight," "You true love will kiss you tomorrw at five o'clock,"

      or, "if you don't effin post this a naked ninja wearing a purple polka dotted apron around his neck will steal your pet beagle fluffy and skin him in your closet and then rape your mind by pulling off his thumb"

?????

      None of those bulletins have ever worked for me! Ask Courtney! She can attest to the number of bulletins I have posted that promised me that I would forever have the love of my life in my arms by reposting a list of people who type with their elbows!

GAAH!!

! Its the dumbest thing I ever heard of! Why would anyone besides me do this? I mean, the others SURLEY have a CHANCE with the one they like! So why do they post these stupid bulletins telling me that my mom is going to get hit by a car if I don't make sure everyone knows my personal secrets?

I want to go to my room and dig into the ten pounds of candy I bought.   And then I will pray for the stupid cows whose only accomplishments are to tell everyone how cool it is to tell others about the Grim Reaper.

Love,
Lindsay

Well, we got the first performance of 'The Mad Adventures of Mr. Toad' out of the way.  1 down, 3 to go.  I had so much fun with this.

When I got there at 11:00, we pretty much had a dress rehearsel,  and I was very disheartened to know that I had to wear a party dress to sing 'Yesterday.'

I found one, and it is a short little number in a bright pink with silvery glitter heels that make my legs look really nice.

So then I went backstage all by myself and listened to the crowd.  It was the most glorious sound I ever heard, all these parents chattering, children laughing, and babies screaming bloody murder.

Music to my ears!

So then I go on to sing in the pre-show, and the only thing I notice is not to sing directly into my lapel mike and to do something with my amrs, for heavens' sake! 
Everyone said I looked perfect, and I knew I was pretty nice-looking because you could not pull me away from the mirror while I was in that dress.  It was great.


So then I have to run backstage and get my costume on, and get about half-make-up.

The opening number was fine, but we sped up a bit too much at first.

When the weasel number came on, they played scene-changing music.  Unfortunately, it was the same as our music-cue, so we were belting.    Then they started our song over again, and we redid it.  Jack tried to keep going, but I told him in my beautiful British accent to shut up.

We ate pizza in the green room during our off-set times, and when we forgot one of the judges benches I had a field mouse on my lap.

In this little hall thing, Kainin and I were touching a black-light and burning our fingers and trying not to laugh out loud.  It was funny, and then he showed me how to do "the Walk"

It was totally great.

You need to come!

Love,
Weasel #1

I must be crazy, or something.

What kind of person walks to the library with her ex right after they broke up? 

This kind?

So pretty much I was waiting to walk to the library with the next group, because I can't walk alone, because my mom thinks I will get raped or something.  But then I hear my name called, and although it usually isn't for me anyways, so because I always turn around, I didn't fail to this time either.

"Lindsay," he said, "I want to break up."

Now this is where we stop and listen to whats going on in my head.  I swear I heard three different voices in my head saying things simulataneosly.

One:  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
Two: (Me)  Wait, what?
Three:  Aw, crap.

But outloud I smiled and said," Okay."

Then we pretty much walked to the library.

I'd write more, but I have another blog to write tonight.

Love,
Me

My Halloween was crazy.  I din't get any candy out of it, which is a lot like a Christmas without presents if you ask me.  However, no one asked me.  They just told me to go anyways. 

i went as a Gothskimo, which means i wore all black and stole Chris's eskimo hat.  I may not give it back.  Some of these boys whom I partially recognize from adjacent groups thought I was a "Gothic Hooker."

I know.


So we all got on the "Gus Bus," I sat with Kirstie and talked to Christi and Caleb.  They are a lot of fun to hang around with.

So we sat and ate chili dogs, and I tried not to look at anyone, because these are people I do not recognize.  Then I took off my fishnets (in the bathroom) and someone wrote on my feet.  
But no candy.


Then we drove home, and someone threw a rock at the Gus Bus, and I wanted to give 'em the Freeway Salute real bad, but the whole Christian thing wouldn't let me.


 So then I went home and peeled off my gothness and crawled into bed.

BTW, I REALLY WANT CANDY!
I am going to get some.

Love,
Lindsay

I wasn't exactly sure what to type at first, whethere I shoud start into my essays or maybe set the tone with a poem.  But you know what?  I want to tell you everything about everything, all of my secrets.  I want to be the open book everyone thinks I am. 

I can't do that, though.

But I will tell you about one of my stranger problems.  


Me.

I have this, like, inability to get nervous.  I can get on a stage without any reservations, or anywhere else.  I will eat absolutely anything and I will talk to anyone.

Anyone, that is, that i don't get nervous around.


Does that make any sense?  It doesn't to me!  If I can talk to a complete stranger and laugh about it, why can't I say two intelligent words to my own boyfriend without other people around?

I have poems, and essays, and books of entirely intelligent words that I can insert into everyday conversation and have no trouble, except when the other person says, "What the heck does that word mean?"

"Hi?  It is a greeting."  I will say, and they will cock their head like a puppy.

But I have like this, selective dialect-like thing around him.  It doesn't make any sense.


And if you dare attribute it to a "girl-thing,"  I will come to your house and bite you.  Really hard.


So I guess that's about it.  You know my problem. I have it off my chest.  You are probably utterly disgusted with my problems, especially if you know who I am or who I am talking about.


Love,
Lindsay