So I've had a wonderful night! Maybe boys aren't as bad as I've made them out to be . . . maybe I'm just looking at the wrong boys. Heh. Either way, I am thoroughly enjoying at the moment the fact that i am female. Oh yes.

I got this GORGEOUS ring today at trucker's union. It would have been more expensive, but it was lacking a price tag and the lady said she could sell it to me for fifteen dollars then. Ha! I got it and some nag champa, and all is good.

Hung out with my Scrooge friends again today . . . god they're great! I miss them all! Half of me wants to ditch the party i'm having tomorrow and go to Heather's. A big part of me. Butttttttt I do have a party to attend, AND host, so I should probably be there, hehehe. It was really thrown on me, it's not like it was really my choice, haha. Anna just tried to get someone else to have a party, but nobody is, so I'm stuck with it--which means I have to clean tomorrow. Yick. At least Anna and Anthony were darlings and agreed to help me out! I'm getting sparkling swiss apple cider! How cool is that? Very. Oh yes. I don't know what to do though, there isn't much that's interesting at my house. So I really want to kiss someone at midnight. I want a boyfriend! Rar! But don't I always? Oh, sigh! Definite definite sigh.

The minister's cat is an affable cat
The minister's cat is a boring cat
The minister's cat is a charming cat
at one o'clock on a monday!
The minister's cat is a darling cat
The minister's cat is an evil cat
The minister's cat is a frightful cat
at two o'clock on a tuesday!
The minister's cat is a grumpy cat
The minister's cat is a hungry cat
The minister's cat is an idiot cat
at three o'clock on a wednesday!
The minister's cat is a jealous cat
The minister's cat is a kindly cat
The minister's cat is a lonely cat
at four o'clock on a thursday!
The minister's cat is a merry cat
The minister's cat is a naughty cat
The minister's cat is an oval cat
at five o'clock on a friday!
The minister's cat is a perfect cat
The minister's cat is a quirky cat
The minister's cat is a reverent cat
at six o'clock on a saturday!
The minister's cat is a silky cat
The minister's cat is a triesome cat
The minister's cat is a useless cat
at seven o'clock on a sunday
The minister's cat is a vicious cat
The minister's cat is a worldly cat
The minister's cat is an extraordinary cat
a yellow eyed cat
a zippy zany zanzibar cat!
(roaring british laughter)
And what do you make of all of that?
We'll tell you what we make of that!
The minister truly truly has
An absolutely most remarkable cat!


Whew.

I am a very lazy person. I know it, I'll admit it. That's why I can't fucking live up to my parent's expectations, and that's why they make my life miserable. So in the meantime, my friends are all out having a good time, and I'm at home, moping about and feeling sorry for myself. I was going to go out tonight, first time this break thanks to my fucking parents, but nooooooooooo! Like one minute before they were all gonna leave he's like, "you can't go out until you give me a list of all of your assignments and show me they're in or done or i can't really remember what the fuck he was saying but it kinda sucked ass" and i'm like, screw it, there's no way i can do this in like 30 seconds, so they left without me, and like 2 minutes after that, my dad's like, "all you would have had to do was write down what classes you're taking and that you're done and sign it" which took me about 30 seconds (humph) and then i yelled at him a bit. **mutters** jerk . . . probably just didn't want me to go out.

I've been feeling younger and more naieve than ever lately. I've just turned into sort of a sad little ragdoll that just hangs there and waits for people to step on it. I miss the Lauren that was all hopes. I liked her. Now I'm just broken, and have given up on things like hope, and taken to sorrow and hate and anger. What's with that? I think I need a bit more happiness in my life. I've been sitting around, crying all break. Christmas eve and day I was throwing up nonstop. Now tonight is just Hell in a can, and I don't want to stay home again, but I have no place to go. Rar.

So I'm working on a portrait of Hester Prynne for English class . . . it's not half bad! **smiles** At least drawing can perk me up a bit. Maybe I should write a bit too, get my anger out. Or take some angry photos (black and white of course). Anything artsy seems like it may help me. Speaking of which, I need to start writing a LOT to apply for interlochen!!!! I was talking with Anna today at acoustic, and she kinda put on her little attitude when I mentioned interlochen, cause i asked about her sister's grades. She told me they were bad, and I was like "GOOD, that gives me some hope, that maybe without perfect grades I could sitll get in", and then she gets all weird and was like, "well, my sister was really . . ." and i finished for her, "talented?" That seemed to be what she was going to say, because she was like, "yeah", and then sort of implies that maybe my work wasn't that great compared to other writers. Yet another ego trip of some sort for her. It really upsets me that she's constantly acting like everything I say or do is somehow wrong. Not really the best thing for my confidence, which I have NONE of. Really, I'm a spineless loser. If I wasn't, I'd have been rejected a million more times (as much sense as that does or doesn't make).

Right now I just really don't want to be alone . . . that's kind of my biggest fear, you know? Being alone. It's right up there with rejection and death. Although rejection sort of ties in with it . . . I'm rejected, therefore I am alone. Hmmph.

I wonder what Mary Beth is doing . . . . GOOD LORD, I SHOULD CALL HER! **grins** Maybe my night wont' be so drab after all!

There we go . . . a little beam of hope.

All you boys that really really really suck (oh yes, that's you, you know who you are!), I'd just like to say . . . . stop! stop sucking! Please! Do us all a favor! Open your eyes and STOP THE SUCKING!

rar.

don't cry, just whatever you do don't cry

don't cry

pleeeeease don't cry

fuck

I WANT ROMANCE!

Sarah says romance is dead, I must admit it's beginning to look so. I think boys should all know how to romance a girl. Or vice versa. There just needs to be some romance going on! And it doesn't seem to be happening. I need someone to snuggle with. Meep.

Don't ou hate it when two people are together, and you know they shouldn't be? You know one of them could do better? Maybe a friend, maybe yourself, maybe just anyone. I have so many of those going on around me my head is spinning. And I have one or two that I'm trying so hard to prevent right now. it just pains me to see it happen.

lightly
beside the green green grass
swing swing
swing the spinning step
you wear those shoes and i will wear that dress
kiss me

I just can't get enough of it. It's addicting. I just want to close my eyes and listen to it forever.

lift your open hand
strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
the silver moon sparkling
so kiss me

So tonight I was feeling really horrible and stressed out and just plain angry at my parents' expectations of me. I was crying, and Rachel came over and made me feel better. That girl has the most uncanny gift of making people feel good about themselves, and about life. She has to be one of the, if not THE, favorite people in my life. Love out to Rachel if you're reading this . . . what an amazing girl.

I remember in eighth grade when "on my own" was so much my favoritve song, and it described me so perfectly. Is kiss me the new version of that song? Maybe, maybe not. I just feel so alive when I listen to it. On my own was more of an actual connection--the one night when i practically lived that song really freaked me out. I felt so much like Eponine. But then again, I like Eric Fischer so much it was practically unhealthy. Crazy crazy . . . I've grown so much.

So you know how I said the guy I like *might* ask a girl to winter carnival? Well, yeah, he did. FUCK. So I told myself not to cry . . . I need to stop being so damn weak. Well, this is so expected. Every time I start to feel confident, I lose everything. EVERYTHING. Why? Why does life fucking hate me? Why can't I just for ONCE have what I want? DOn't cry, don't cry, don't cry . . . . . oh fuck. I can't cry. I won't let myself. It will be one time too many. Don't cry over someone who wouldn't cry over you, they say. If he doesn't like you, he's blind. He doesn't deserve you. I've heard them all.


Flyin Illini JP: seriously, you're hot stuff
Flyin Illini JP: anybody'd love to go out with you

Ha. That helped a bit.

I think by the end of a couple home-made smoothies and maybe after watching an old black and white movie on my couch I shall feel better. It will, though, be lonely watching it alone . . . oh, I am such a hopeless romantic.

Maybe romance is dead, maybe it's not and i'm just not getting any. Someday I'll find out, and whoever's in charge will have a talking-to.

Thank you very much, thank you very much--that's the nicest thing that anyone's ever (hitchkick) done for (scarecrow) me . . .

I am missing Scrooge lots. I saw a lot of the cast last night at a party, and I realized how much fun they are to hang with, and how weird it is without them right now. What's it been, like, a week? I'm such a pansy! I can't even handle that long! However will I make it in the world? Oh dear.

So today was Courtney's birthday! 18. Yikes. She's going to be out of the house next year! I was writing her birthday card and I started crying . . . . I'm going to miss her SO much, and I've known her for a lifetime, loads more than the scrooge cast. Eep! My sister! **sniff**

So I'm applying for interlochen soon! I am SO nervous--I want to get in SO badly, but I just don't know if I'm going to be able to make it! I hope so. I would major in creative writing, and my writing would improve SO much. It would be a great career choice stepping towards my side career as an author. And it could get me into practically whatever college I want! Oh, the possibilities . . . wow. I should really start writing a bit more to warm myself up for making a portfolio. I think perhaps I shall go through my poems and such tonight and revise them. It's amazing how much one's writing style can improve in but a year. You can help yourself infinitely. Speaking of which, 299 reviews on Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps . . . !!!!!!!! I really need to write the next chapter of that. As in REALLY. But I honestly have no clue what's going to happen next! I am honestly at a loss. If only I could be as great as Rhysenn, who will forever be my role model . . . mmmmmmm, amazement.


I slip this thin awkwardness over my head, I am lost in its wrinkles and drowned in its luster.
Your silhouette shines through the cloth as I struggle to find the way out with my fingertips.
I draw strength from your figure, but it is in vain, for I’m too entangled to emerge from its folds.
You don’t move a finger as I now collapse, and am smothered by all of the silky white fabric.
My innocence, nervousness, sorrows and laughter are choking me, killing me, soft as a bird.
I look up to you to see never a flinch as I cry out in terror for help and for peace.
Could this be repayance for all of my love? I pray thee not as I now lay down my head.
If only, if only, my head seems to echo, leaving only your memory burned in my mind.


So that's not really a poem, more like a song lyric. Something simple with soft acoustic guitar. Think "Illustrated Bible Stories" by the Weakerthans. If you read it as a poem it sounds a little bit . . . jerky. You know? Like it doesn't quite flow. Oh, OUCH. Just realized that the last two lines read "head" and "head". I'll have to change them. There, changed the last one to mind . . . much better. Ha. More? Hmmmmmm...



I bow my head in remembrance
Of a person who I once knew well.
A pretty girl
A lively girl
She knew the difference between what was right
And what was not so right
And the in-betweens were simply unheard of.
Her ear never displeased her.
She heard only symphonies and laughing voices.
She saw mostly good, and seldom evil
Evil was only in comic books and fairy tales
And afternoon TV.
Decisions were made with the flick of a wrist
As she held a spaghetti-strand-wand.
And her nose wrinkled up with an innocent smile
When she told herself to laugh
And bells did not play
So much as light-bulb-compositions
And a flickering switch of a neuron or two
Cavorting around in her ever-shifting mind.
I bow my head in remembrance
To the ‘me’ I used to know


Mucho stereotypical, no? Very teenage girly poemish. YUCK. I need to get out of that rut. If I need to think seriously as I writer, I cannot consider myself a girl. I am a woman . . . ha, womyn. Politically correct. I need to ignore my hormones, which is a horrendous thing to tackle. Yuck.



Golden tears ripple the silver pools of blood
Swirling gently among the fallen bodies
Pure white words slip from the lifeless mouths
As wisps of red flow softly among the stars
In the coal black sky which holds the secrets
Then an ear piercing sob sounds out
It breaks the clear crystal barrier
Deep blue emotions pour out
As the velvety purple loss struggles
To hide them with green envy
But the feelings prevail
And the cry is rung a million times
Her tan hands wave desperately in the air
Her aqua eyes tell a million words
Her pink cheeks turn pale
Deep brown hair is tangled
And the sharp gray pain
Almost brings dark death
The vibrant fuchsia love
Has turned to peach with solemn wear
And the deep orange loyalty
Brings light blue truth
And the silence of mourning



Guess when? Eight grade! Two year old poem! Woohooooooo! I'm rocking out old school here. I still like this poem despite the wear and tear, and the naivety. Muah. And now for another grade eight appearance:

You look down upon the world
From your perch up in the sky
And gently blow your fairy dust
Upon a laughing child
You sing along with the moon
As you flutter through the air
And the stars are all rejoicing
At the music, sweet and mild
You bask upon a bed of clouds
And peals of laughter break
Their shattered pieces ring and dance
Cascading o'er the land
And angels waltz around the moon
They frolic through the air
They tumble down the waterfalls
Holding hand in hand
You reach up high and grab a star
That twinkles in your palm
And toss it to the starving child
That lingers at your arm
You comfort all the weeping stars
And aid the aching sun
For when you walk along with the world
We all are safe from harm
The mother earth will sing her song
And father wind caress your back
Sister stars will fill the air
With their laugh that fills the soul
Your brother sun shall warm your hearts
With courage, strong and brave
And grandfather time shall slip around
And silently take his toll.


Dude, I haven't written much poetry since my love-sick eight grade year I spent mooning over Eric Fischer. HA. Now that's a riot if there ever was one. Speaking of boys, I saw mine--well, not mine, not anywhere near to mine--yesterday. Pleasant surprise. Certainly perked up my day! I was giddy, just ask Rachel. Ha. Well, I'm horribly tired, so I'm off to bed! Oooooh, my own bed tonight, no relatives here. Hoorah!

Blow it to the wind, muah . . .

Thought of the day:

I get all upset about my romantic life because it doesn't exist--but since when do i do anything about it? I am forever the silent one. Perhaps I shall begin to speak up . . . it may cause tears, but it may cause otherwise nonexistant happiness and success. Muah. Maybe that will be my new year's resolution? Only have a bit longer to think one up!

Over and out.

So I just got one of my best friends a date and found out that the guy i like is probably asking someone else to winter carnival, and am feeling rather worthless. I'm such a sad girl when it comes to relationships (which is a good portion of what i think about). I'm always giving, never getting--you know? I'm feeling rather upset about it all, and am considering just sitting down and not getting up until something goes RIGHT for a chance, dammit. I got more excited by getting Katelyn a date tonight--well, should i say HELPING her, it wasn't all me obviously--than i've been in a while, and it made me realize how silly it is--i can't even be excited for my love life because it doesn't exist, and i just have to thrive off of others. Like a leech! Who the hell wants to be a leech?!? Not I, says Lauren Elizabeth Scott! Indeed not I. I yearn for independence, yet I year for someone to be dependent on. How much sense does that make? Not much! No, not much at all! How can a walking oxymoron possibly find happiness? I contradict myself in so many ways--I want what i cannot have at once. I must learn to split my priorities and decide what I need. Organization! Oh, would that not save me now! I am slipping into a vast pit of jumbled hopes and a mixed up life. And DAMN these socks are cute!!! Where the hell did I get them? They make my feet look cute! My feet never look cute! I should wear these more often.

Well, I have to work on my English project yet again. **sigh** Damn Scarlet Letter . . . why couldn't she have just been a boring old puritan hag and therefore driven the book out of existance?

I am trying to do my project for English right now, but I'm too busy thinking . . . I really honestly need to finish it, I'm in deeper shit than normal, but my mind is just swirling . . . to much to keep track of! I cannot.

What on earth do I want? A few weeks ago I was so sure, but now I'm just not very clear on it all. This weekend I thought I had new interests, thought maybe things would change . . . but now that window of oportunity has sealed itself back up and I am back to the old wants, old needs.

THERE GOES MY LEG AGAIN!

**ahhhherm** Well, it seems that all pathways are sufficiently doomed enough for me to search for another path. Always these problems, see? Always too late--to late to speak, to late to do, to late to BE. If my life had been just a tad less poorly planned timewise, how grand it could be. But no, always too late. Timing is said to be everything--and how right that is. Timing is essential to our being--to our WELL-being. Sometimes the timing of simple things can change your whole life--timing of a conversation, of a birth, of a decision, of a feeling. Scramble them up the slightest and your whole world is thrown slightly off-balance, the universe shifts just a tad to the side, things are changed. Any small action known to us can grab the direction of us life and thrash it about, it doesn't care what we think, it just does.

Sometimes I reach too far into things when thinking . . . now would be a time. But it just flows to me, my train of thought is blasting along full-speed, and it's so damn much more INTERESTING than the scarlet letter . . . oh dear. However am I going to get that finished by tomorrow? I have an endless string of assignments. I am literally frightened.

So I am trying to figure out exactly how to use the damn templates in this thing . . . whatever the hell they expect me to type, I do NOT understand. Rar.

So Scrooge was . . . amazing. In one weekend I got to know and love the people so well . . . this weekend I shall attend a party at the Shellenbergers. I'll see them again. I think I may cry. Well, I won't go that far, but DAMN I'll be happy! Adam--Toaster--came to our choir concert, I was BEAMING seeing him there, although I didn't really get to talk to him. Apparently Shauna came too, but I didn't see her! **sniff** I wish I had--I miss that girl. Methinks my sentiments are running away with me--my lord I cannot humanly miss people that much in three days! Ha! But after seven preformances and a buttload of dress and tech rehearsals, I feel so close to them. I only wish I could try out for more shows! I think I shall try my luck for the part of Liesl in the sound of music. Highly doubt I'll get it, though, I wager the competition is fierce. I wonder what time Snow White is at, and if I can fit it around dance team.

I think I've decided to go to Florida instead of staying back--after all, it would be an experience--whereas at home I would merely sing a few songs and go to a dance that would probably end as poorly as the rest do. I always go to dances with false hopes that they will be fun and triumphant. I always come home upset and let down, utterly defeated in every humanly way.

Courtney is listening to Rent, and I am dreaming of preforming . . . I had forgotten how much I love musical theatre. Being forbidden to try out for the wiz is like holding a greek olivre in front of my face but not letting me have it. Hell, it is . . . cruel and unusual punishment (well thie wiz is more cruel, and the olive--that's just unusual).

Oh fuckcakes . . . . I have to go see Courtney dance on Saturday night. No party at the Shellenbergers . . . I fear I shall never see any of my theatre friends again--honestly. This was seriously the only thing I'd be doing with them in ages . . . everyone would be there . . . GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

yes, timing IS everything.

Yet another window of oppurtunity shut in a blink. It's not that I don't want to see Courtney dance--I DO--it's just that nobody tells me when these things are happening until it's too late to do anything about it . . . misfortune seems to pounce upon me quite often these days.

Listening to kiss me again. I feel alive.

Sometimes I just need to clear my mind. It doesn't happen often. It's a difficult thing to clear.

we'll take the trail marked on your father's mat
oh
kiss me

**grins**

How can a song be this wonderful? Mmmmmmmmmmm

I think I shall sit and listen to this song until the stars fall to earth and i am no longer worried about my schoolwork or my appearance or my problems, and I just soak in their glow and am radiant.

kiss me
beneath the milky twilight
leave me
out on the moonlit floor
lift your open hand
strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
silver moon sparkling

so kiss me


I am decidedly in love with that song. I don't know what it is about it . . . gets in touch with my girlish desires, you know? The part of me that just wants one of those perfect romances, the kind you dream about since when you are little. When I hear the song . . . it just reminds me about that. About what I hope will happen to me someday.

Ahhhh, but that is someday, and most likely not today, so I'll just listen to the song until I'm satisfied, hehehe. Mmmmmmmmmmmm . . . . just listening it puts this goofy little smile on my face.

So Katelyn and I went to see Mrs. Look today. We didn't talk to her for long because she had all of this stuff going on and she was super busy . . . but that woman is one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my life. You go to her and leave with a feeling of contentment yet honesty. She is frank, blunt, truthful, loving, careful, helpful, funny and reassuring all at once . . . I've never known anyone quite like her. We didn't talk about much--we (haha, actually quite a bit of it was me) bitched about Katelyn's problems with Digger, and a bit about my own boy stuff and life . . . . we just left feeling satisfied after only about five or ten muinutes. It's amazing how she can do that to you.

So I tried to post yesterday, but I wrote half a post and my internet shut down. Just my luck.

I had ten hours straight of scrooge today. Pretty overwhelming. We had a gig at borders, and I saw some guys I knew there. I felt pretty silly, needless to say, seeing them while I was in this huge poofy outfit singing in their cafe for no apparent reason, haha . . . I'm starting to get closer with the people in the play, which is definitely fun! They're a fun crowd to be around, sort of reflecting yet another side of me that i don't see in some of the other people I know. That's what most people seem to be these days--reflections of these little pieces of me that come out at certain times. If I can only put all those pieces together, maybe I'll start to understand myself.

Oh, there it is AGAIN, my leg is asleep! What IS it with this blog and my leg? Does my leg think it's boring or something? Rar!

Sometimes I just wonder if life really is easier for those people who I think have--well, not have it all put together, but who seem to be on the right track. Do I ever come off as that way? I certainly hope not. Haha, probably not, because I really don't see how I could. Or do I? I don't think so, but . . . hmmmmmm. I mean, my life is actually pretty good! My family is alive and well, and i have no trauma really in my life, besides little boy things. You know, I should really appreciate this more often, how I seem to be rather clear of disaster. Mragh. I don't feel like pondering this right now, just not in the mood.

Sarah's making brown sugar drops . . . doens't that sound good? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! I want some.

So I found out a little bit ago that i'll be in florida watching the pom squad the day of winter carnival and winterfest. WHAT BS! When I mentioned I was upset, my sister called me spoiled. How's that so? I mean, i'm upset because i'm missing two really important things and she calls me spoiled. I'm so sick of her always trying to belittle me. But oh well, my mom is being really nice about it and trying to work things out for me. **smiles** I know it'll end well somehow.

So last night I was home alone, on the computer, and suddenly I was just hit by this sudden wave of loneliness. I don't even really know how to describe it; one minute I was fine, and the next . . . I just felt more alone than I've ever felt before. I was listening to the I am Sam soundtrack--which, by the way, is excellent. Maybe it was something in the music, maybe something else, but something in my just snapped, and there I was--lying in the middle of the floor curled up in a ball, crying and holding my legs as tightly to my chest as I could. Just at that moment I needed somebody, and I just couldn't handle being alone anymore. It was one of the worst feelings imaginable--this sort of overwhelming loneliness that just engulfed me, and was stronger than I could imagine. I don't know why it happened, but there must be a reason . . .

I've started to believe in fate. With all the strange coincidences int he world, I think that's fate bringing us there. But, as the angel stripper in can't harldy wait says, fate only takes us so far--then it's up to us. I completely agree. I think regret is sort of fate's little slap when you didn't follow its lead.

Well, I'm going to wander off to a mixture of talking to sarah miller and reading for apbio, seeing as it's 1:13 am on sunday night/monday morning. school in 7 hours 17 minutes! blech.

*"Can't Hardly Wait" . . . I am the girl who cannot type.

I just watched "Can'r Hardly Wait". Good movie.

There's this one part where these two people who hate each other are locked in this bathroom--they used to be friends when they were little, but then they drifted apart. They're just sitting there joking around (because of the oh-so-cliche friendship they miraculously regain from being locked up together) and then he kisses her . . . I swear to god I watched it over and over and over again . . . every time I got butterflies in my stomach. I need a boyfriend, my god. I need someone to give me butterflies.

In a lot better mood than I have been lately. Actually feeling cheerful instead of mopey, which is a good sign. I had a lot of fun last night--Glenna had a hotel brithday party. I always wanted to have one of those when I was little, but my parents never let me. It was a lot of fun indeed.

My foot/lower leg is asleep. Whenever I write in my blog this happens. Why me? **sigh** Frankly, right now my inner thigh is falling asleep a little to close for comfort, and it's not too much fun. Hramph.

I have Ani stuck in my head, and I'm so grateful. She's such a wonderful person. If I could be one person, it would be her. She's funny and her beliefs are wonderful and she's so musically talented . . . she's just one of those people that I could completely be in awe of my entire life.

So everybody's been getting these weird postcards, and frankly I think they're fucking hilarious. They're all signed the dire chicken, and now everybody's guessing who it is. I have no clue . . .I mean, some people had guesses, but the choice of recepients has sort of thwarted most of them. Sierra thinks it's a girl because of the handwriting . . . I must agree, the handwriting on mine looks pretty girly too. But then again wouldn't they disguise their handwriting? Or have someone else write it? Because otherwise if someone recognized it . . . yeah, they probably did. Well, we'll find the culprit eventually. In the meantime, it adds spice to our lives. I'll be eagerly awaiting their next strike.

I love the song 99 red balloons.

You know, sometimes punk covers of songs are so cute they just make me want to glomp onto the nearest person. Like the one (I can't remember who did it) of "You're still the one" by Shania Twain . . . . oh god, I love it. Every time I hear it I just get all excited, and it makes me FEEL cute, dammit! Punk covers just fill me with this HAPPY energy, I just want to be at a concert rocking out with some boy . . . eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I'm grinning right now. Positively beaming.

I'm in a mischievous mood right now . . . think maybe I shall go be sneaky somewhere to the best of my ability.