I get money
I like my Bunches of Oats with Honey
My eggs need ’em runny
The weather, it’s sunny
I drink Dasani and got one knee
Easter time, bunny
I am funny
I like candy, yummy
Dead people, mummy
All y’all my sonny
More poetry
Tag: funny
Pre-Chip Journal
This Monday. 10 Am. Ojai Valley School. The last conference room on the right. It’s going down.
I will be orchestrating the show of the century via my video podcast. Myself, my co-host, and my newspaper’s editor will be eating the world’s spiciest chip. On camera. It WILL be the highlight of my year or the reason I get violently ill and have to leave school.
Going into the new year, I needed new ideas for my budding podcast. To be honest, my coverage and predictions about Omicron were shaky to say the least, some would even say disastrous but hey you live and you learn.
ANYWAYS, a ton of planning has gone into this. I had the idea on a crisp Thursday morning at 7:15 am on the toilet browsing Tik Tok. I saw this random old dude force feeding himself for views on tik tok when I saw him down 4 or 5 very spicy chilies, some daused in the world’s hottest hot sauce, followed up by a shot of vodka and him spraying WD-40 down his gullet. The funniest part is he starts with this cute little gag accent which slowly transitions into him moaning, whining, and crying as he forces himself to eat them (attached his so-called highlights at the bottom). Truly enthralling stuff. When I got to Journalism that day, I was instantly bombarded by my teacher and editor about not doing enough during my time between episodes (true but no way I would admit it).
“I’m gonna make my editor eat something so hot, she doesn’t have a tongue to tell me to slack off less,” I thought to myself.
It’s a pretty great plan if you factor our the fact that I will be torturing myself and my co-host for a gag/to see my editor’s face when she eats this chip.
I have created a whole show around the one spicy chip which I will outline:
First, we will chat around for a second, maybe get a cameo on the fourth mic from our teacher, get some other Journalism students to chime in and what not, setting the stage for the main event. Then, we will spin a wheel to determine the order in which we eat the chips. Then, another wheel will be spun to determine how much of the chip will be eaten: 60% for 1/3, 35% for 2/3, and 5% for 3/3. You are gonna hear “another wheel” a handful more times throughout this blog. Get used to it. After this spin, we will eat the chip, and film our reaction for 3 minutes. We will then all play Family Feud while handling the heat. The winner will get first dibs to spin two wheels that are mostly filled with things that help heat like milk and carbs, but also some negatives like tonic water and an onion. The other two will spin this wheel in the order of their points in Feud. After this, we will have a spelling bee, something my editor is impossibly terrible at. After this, we will probably wrap up, and that will be our show.
I am pretty excited, but I hope nobody gets a stomach ulcer leading to me getting sued. I’ll attach the podcast to my next blog so stay tuned.
iCARus
if this car dings at me one more time
if another ding reverberates through my ears
i swear to god
have i missed something? does the whole world revolve around this car’s dire need for washer fluid?
well you know heckin what, car
i dont care that your washer level is low
i dont care that your tire pressure is a potential threat to my safety
i dont care that maintenance was required a substantial amount of months ago
or that your entire existence rests on trying to prohibit me from listening to Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!
(finally some much needed radio silence, my normally needy car gives me a breather, i turn into 89.3 KPCC like any self-important masochist. ahhhh. how lucky i am to tune into the sweet sweet sonorous sound of the voice of Peter Sagal the host of NPR’s greatest and only radio game show. my car obviously understands the pleasurable tones created by the one and only Bill Kurtis, the narrator of this great weekly hour of radio. and my car picks now as the perfect time to send a certifiable fuck ton of alerts, ranging from topics as important as aforementioned washer fluid or that the car is in need of a software update, blaring through my car speakers. now quite honestly i didn’t know cars could even have software updates, let alone that they were so important that i should miss an important line of NPR’s most high-quality comedic banter, but i swear to all the gods that may be, if this self important piece of german engineering chimes at me again there will be a germany sized whole in the continent known as europe)
your chorus of chimes and beeps and brrrungs remind me the second i turn the key that my seat belt should be on. i was just about to put it on, but obviously im not quick enough for you and your quarter of a second delay.
a vehicle is anything that moves or transports. this car is more something that annoys me more than OSX updates.
(OSX updates that the lovely folks at apple think are priority numero uno, however we know this to be false, i have to put new windshield wiper fluid in my car.)
forgive me oh state farm for i have sinned i have wronged mine car. my car that moves or transports like it is meant to; that roars and tears into its intricacies, generating a herd of horses to move or transport me to and from school; that pairs, through the magic that is bluetooth, to my phone bringing me summer reading audio books as well as crosby, stills, nash, and young all the same.
my car which takes me to coffee and groceries, that supplies a warm butt in the mornings and cool AC in the afternoon.
you defrost thine own windows, you display thine own manual. you know thine own tire pressure, you never cease to tell me about it.
you’re a mechanical beast that does so much more than moving and transporting. you purr when you idle, content to cool and blast NPR. you roar when i press on the gas in neutral by accident. and you alert me with hope in your chime about the absence of washer fluid in your stores.
but you, oh vehicle of my dreams, oh vehicle my parents so rarely let me drive, you annoy me so deeply and to the core i am tempted to just walk.
Write to write, you know? (w.v. II)
I think I should stop trying to be eloquent and just try to be authentic. The words will come on their own.
I’ll write just to write, you know?
I love talking. I love that I can talk to people so easily most of the time. But, sometimes, I hate it too, because we all just say the same things over and over and over every time. It gets boring.
And I find myself saying over and over that I want to go somewhere far away from here. I want to go everywhere that is not here and stay there for a very long time.
And I find myself saying over and over that I would never love anyone like that.
And I know I love you! But sometimes I also just hate you! I love that you are open and introspective and so sure of yourself, but sometimes I wish you would just shut up!
But, I do like that you write about it all. I didn’t know that before. I think that’s the one thing you do without over-thinking and without trying to so hard to look like you aren’t trying.
I just want to be authentic.
The story of kale, tangerines, and the realizations I made.
I ate a piece of kale the other day.
It was growing in a garden box at school, so I pulled a leaf off of the plant and ate it.
It was a nice, sturdy piece of kale. It tasted pretty good. I continued munching on it as I walked over to the baseball field.
Kale can be a nice snack, if you’re into dark leafy greens. But, as many experienced plant-eaters know, raw kale is quite tough to chew.
My jaws were getting a little bit tired, so I switched over to eating a different leaf that I had also picked from the garden box. I’m not sure what plant this was, but it was softer and sweeter than the kale.
As I was chewing, I twirled the piece between my thumb and my pointer finger.
I started to study the leaves. The kale was dark and rough. It was much more aggressively textured than the other leaf.
It was at that moment when I stopped chewing, for I noticed dozens of very tiny, white bugs all along the sides of the leaves.
I swallowed my bite, then tossed the remnants of my half-eaten leaves aside. I decided not to dwell on it too much, because I didn’t want the thought of the bugs to take away from the otherwise positive experience I had eating them.
(I would like to apologize to the innocent lives I took that day. I didn’t thoroughly inspect the leaves before eating them, and that was selfish of me. To the bugs that once inhabited the kale: I am sorry.)
On a completely unrelated note, this morning my parents and I went out to our tangerine trees. It was time to prune them. After about an hour of picking fruit and chopping branches, my dad said to me: “This is a chore that very few other people your age have to do, but you have to remember that it just makes you more cosmopolitan.”
Though I didn’t really enjoy being outside when it was 40 degrees, I did find comfort in the fact that our work would provide more fruit for us next season.
I never realized it before, but I am so thankful that I know how to take care of citrus trees.
I live in a place where I am fortunate enough to grow my own food. I take that for granted.
I hope that I will always have this luxury, bugs and all.
America’s Finest News Source
WARNING: Do not read if easily offended.
The Onion, a satirical newspaper that exists primarily to mock America’s antics, is one of my favorite forms of entertainment. While scrolling through Facebook, articles randomly pop up on my news feed, and never fail to provide amusement.
Even funnier than the articles themselves though, are the headlines – I cannot explain my love for them. I admit, I don’t always get around to reading the actual stories – that’s a big commitment – but the headlines, a short and easy read, are simply genius.
Impeccably sarcastic and wittily worded, these headlines are the epitome of satire – I love it.
Here are ten of my all-time favorites, in no particular order.
- ‘I Am Under 18’ Button Clicked For First Time In History Of Internet
- Miracle Of Birth Occurs For 83 Billionth Time
- Taylor Swift Now Dating Senator Joseph McCarthy
- Secondhand Smoke Linked To Secondhand Coolness
- Gay Teen Worried He Might Be Christian
- Kitten Thinks Of Nothing But Murder All Day
- Dwarf Falls Equivalent Of 10 Stories
- Fun Toy Banned Because Of Three Stupid Dead Kids
- Alcoholic Father Disappointed In Pothead Son
- Buddy System Responsible For Additional Death
It doesn’t even matter if you read the articles themselves– the headline is all you need.
Enjoy, and thank me later.
Super Scary (and Sexist) Halloween Costumes
When I was little, I’d play dress up. I’d put on my mother’s beige heels or my sister’s prom dress and strut around my room like it was a runway.
I’d wear a pink tutu and make a crown out of yellow construction paper and draw little jewels with magenta and green crayons.
I could spend hours and hours just frolicking around my room; trying on this shirt or pretending to be that Disney princess.
Even though my dress up days have passed, there is still one occasion where I can relive one of my favorite elementary school pastimes.
Halloween – It’s the day where the ghosts, ghouls, and zombies come out to play. Where you can be whoever you want to be, without judgement. It’s a time to live in a fantasy for a day.
When I was little I’d jump for joy knowing I could wear my princess or witch costume to school, and the incoming candy overstock I’d have after trick-or-treating.
Now that I’m older, I’m just excited for the excuse to dress up for a day. I’ve noticed that it’s becoming harder and harder to find a costume I like, and for one big reason: women’s Halloween costumes are hypersexualized.
Now, this may not come as a surprise to some of you. You’ve been through the struggle of picking out a costume. Whether it be you couldn’t choose just what you wanted to be or you couldn’t find the perfect costume for who you wanted to be.
For women, finding an appropriate costume takes another ounce of effort. I’ve found that once you grow out of child sizes and into teenage or adult sizes, that the dresses don’t really grow much longer.
If you go onto any major costume store, such as Party City, you can see just how true this is. There are very few costumes for women that don’t contain one of the following: little tutus, corsets, skin-tight body suits, or above mid-thigh skirts.
Now, some women like wearing these costumes, and I see nothing wrong with that. But, the problem is for the women who don’t want to show much skin on Halloween.
Bustle, an online news blog, did an article about the difference between men’s and women’s costumes, which you can see here: http://www.bustle.com/articles/7907-15-mens-and-womens-halloween-costumes-reveal-some-scary-sexism .
They bring an air of comedy to just how sexualized women’s costumes can be. For example, a man’s costume for an owl is a full-body suit while a woman’s costume is a short dress with little feathers all over it.
And that’s not even the worst of them.
The problem with this inherent sexism is that it gives women boundaries for this fun holiday. If a woman isn’t particularly confident in her body, or doesn’t want to show it off, then her costumes are very, very limited.
Even teenage girl’s costumes are becoming more and more skimpy. In fact, most costumes that would fit me I can’t even wear to school, because they don’t follow school dress code.
Some would say that it would be easier just to make a costume at home, but why should I, and many other women, have to?
Instead of telling me what I should do to help my costume-less state, tell manufacturers to create more women’s costumes that are less provocative.
The Intouchables
When I mention the movie “The Intouchables” to someone, they most often hear “The Untouchables.” While I hear good things about “The Untouchables,” I’ve never actually seen it, and I’m sure it couldn’t even compare to “The Intouchables.”
“The Intouchables,” which is a French film, came out in 2011. It follows the story of a wealthy paraplegic man in search of an assistant. During his interviews, a man storms in and adamantly requests him to sign a paper saying that he applied for the job, but didn’t get it, in order for him to receive unemployment. It is obvious that Driss comes from the lower-class, spends much of his time in the streets, may have a questionable past, and a poor work ethic. However, Philippe, the man hiring, takes to the fact that Driss has no sympathy for his condition. He doesn’t treat him as an invalid or an outcast. He treats him as he would anyone else. Philippe decides to hire him, despite warnings from people close to him.
What ensues is a comical friendship, where both men learn from each other. The dynamic duo breaks all the rules that have been set for paraplegics. Driss teaches Philippe how to live again, despite his condition, and Philippe teaches Driss about the rewards of giving one’s all to their work. The two push each other to be the best they can be, despite the internal and external flaws of each man.
The film is based on a true story, and is simply amazing. It is definitely one of the better movies I have seen. The filming was very well done, and the characters provided laughter at every turn, even at times coaxing out a tear or two. I watched this movie over the summer with my dad, and at the end of it, we looked at each other and said “wow.” There is really no other way to describe this movie. I’m surprised by how few people have seen it. It is definitely on my list of must-sees, so if you haven’t already, go and rent it as soon as you can. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Picture Perfect
I recently wrote a story about the bike ride our school took. They left on Superbowl Sunday, and rode about 25 miles from the campus to the beach.
I was very proud of my story. I had fun with it, and in my opinion at least, the writing was pretty good. But then came the art…
Every story needs a picture to go with it, some sort of visual. And in our Journalism class we don’t stage or photoshop photos. This would be awesome if it didn’t complicate things so much.
I started out on my mission to get a picture of the group that went on the bike ride by asking the teacher who led the trip to make an announcement at morning meeting. He did, asking all the students who went to meet up with him and I quickly after the meeting.
Since I don’t have my own camera, and have absolutely no idea how to shoot good photos, my classmate helped me out. We had the group stand in a couple different places in the courtyard, then behind the Spanish room as well.
Unfortunately, in all the photos we took the lighting was absolutely terrible. Somehow the background behind the students ended up completely white.
Moosey Goosey
So as promised, I’m writing a blog about the newest addition to our family, Moose. After our dog Hattie passed away from cancer several years ago, we went in search of a companion for our other dog Luna.
The first dog we came across, who we named Ute, was a bit too feisty for the family lifestyle. So we took him back to the animal shelter, and came home with Moose.
When I first saw Moose, I was grooming my horse in the barn. My dad and brothers walked into the barn aisle with him on a leash, and I am not kidding when I say I thought he was the ugliest dog I had ever seen. He is very clearly a mutt, and as my mother says, “he is everything but the kitchen sink.”
He is black, with brown feet and brown cheeks. His tongue has a small birth mark on it, and his feet are absolutely ginormous, if that’s even a word. He’s gotten a little less odd looking as he’s gotten older, but my first impression was to look at my family and think “what have you done?”
Much to my surprise, Moose was a character. He would walk out our back door and disappear for hours on end. When we first got him, we lived on a ski mountain. He came home one night with a cut on his foot from someone’s ski’s, and another time he came home with a huge gash on his leg from getting hit by a car.
OVS Journalism Blog 
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