~You may be wondering, “Why say that on a blog? You can blog from anywhere.” But I’m not moving to a new house. No.

~I’m moving to Tumblr. As much as I love WordPress, and as guilty as I feel for leaving this URL to rot or something, it’s so much easier on Tumblr!

~So you can now read my posts at www.ornamentalturtle.tumblr.com. [Don't ask about the username.] See you there!

~What I don’t understand is why I was witnessing fireworks yesterday. That’s right. I was being fat in my kitchen when I heard loud noises. Outside, I saw a series of colorful, explosive bursts in the night sky.

~If they thought yesterday was the 4th, they’re either dumb or just momentarily confused.

~If they were perfectly aware that it was the 3rd but set off fireworks anyway, I have lost faith in the human race.

~How would you feel if one of your neighbors decided to go trick-or-treating on the 30th? Or if your friend opened Christmas presents on the 24th? It just doesn’t make any sense. The dates actually mean something, folks. It’s not like somebody thought, “Hm. I want a day where everyone can get presents from a fictional fat guy. December 25th sounds good.”

~Anyway, enjoy freedom and nationalism and all that. Peace.

~You know what’s bothersome? I started typing, then noticed I had a random bug bite right at the point where my forearm lays on the edge of my laptop. It hurts.

~You know what else is bothersome? When you and your friends are trying to camp in your friend’s backyard (which happens to be near the prison) and all you hear are coughing noises and bullfrogs that sound like deep-voiced men saying, “Hey.”

~Yeah. The above was my situation last night. Not fun. Until we started playing Ultimate War and making card towers. Which is extremely difficult on uneven ground and sleeping bags. Needless to say, it was interesting.

~Now completely switching topics… you know those types of people who are just so… not smart? Like, they just have no common sense and the stuff they say makes absolutely no sense? They annoy me. Like the girl in this video, who just… no.

~I’m done complaining now. Enjoy the hot-but-not-super-hot weather!

“Wow, you’re so tall!”

“You make me feel really short.”

“I wish I was as tall as you.”

“You’re really tall.”

~Whoa, seriously? I didn’t notice! Gee whiz!

~Most of you know that I am more… vertically substantial than other people. As lacking as I am in ligament health and black hair, I can safely say that I do not lack height. I’m pretty confident in that fact.

~So why is it that every single person I meet needs to tell me that I’m tall? I do, in fact, use mirrors, folks. I’ve tried to buy jeans. And I have never been turned down at a rollercoaster.

~But seriously. Why do you feel the need to tell me over and over? It’s ridiculous! Imagine the following conversations, and tell me they’re ridiculous. (These conversations are between people from the stranger to cordial acquaintance range.)

“You’re fat.” *bitchslap*

“You have blue eyes.” “Yep.” “They’re sky colored.” “Yeah, I’m gonna go now…”

“You’re in a wheelchair.” “I was in a car accident three years ago… I lost both my parents…” “Can I get on and do a wheelie?”

~In other situations, stating the obvious would be socially unacceptable. (See situations 1 and 3.) But when you’re tall, your teachers, hairdressers, asian nail salon-ists, and grocery store checkers all have to tell you. (On a side note, why do grocery store checkers all act like they know you? Like, “Hey! I love your new haircut. Getting skim milk this time, huh? Probably for better, too… you could use less fat in your diet.” Really creepy. Back to the post at hand.)

~But anyway. Another similar complaint: whenever I wear a dress or a skirt, somebody always asks me (in a nasally tone, obviously), “Why are you so dressed up?”

~Gee, I dunno. Maybe I just felt like looking female today, hm? (And by the way, Emily Hartung, sundresses are not dressy!)

~So yeah, that’s pretty much all. As I’ve said before, it’s very hard to think of things to write about, which is why my last posts have been about lots of random things and why I haven’t posted in a week.

~But today, I’m going to talk about techno music. That’s right. I think most people don’t think I’m a techno kind of person, but I really am. I’m going through a phase. And I’m not just talking about ANY techno. No. I’m talking about…

~FOREIGN TECHNO. Mhmm. French, German, Swedish… it’s very catchy. I think I have about 3 extremely inappropriate songs, but I don’t care because they’re not in a language I understand. I just like the music.

~So. If you share my love of unrecognizable lyrics and synthesizers, listen to Yelle and Basshunter. (Personally, I prefer the Swedish versions of Basshunter, but lots of people listen to the English translations.) They’ll soon be added to my “great bands and songs” page. Because they are great bands. And songs.

~That is all. Peace out, girl scout.

~NOW for some complaints and rants and all that other crap you come here to read. (But don’t stop reading, it makes me feel fuzzy when I get lots of views.) I hate finals. Not really that shocking, right? But I do. You know why? Guess.

.

.

.

.

*Jeopardy song plays in the background.*

.

.

.

.

~Okay, I’m done using blank guessing space as filler. Have you guessed yet? If you need more time, I could do more blank spaces…? No? Alright. I hate finals because…. *drumroll* … *drumroll* … because… I forget. But I do hate them, I swear. Er… well this post is now kind of pointless. Let me do some more advertising.

~Better idea! I’ll rant ABOUT advertising!

~My favorite commercials… sigh. Most of them, surprisingly, aren’t from the Superbowl. Probably because I can’t remember any from the Superbowl. Because they only play once. My favorites are the ones you watch the Martha Stewart Show just to see. Or shush anyone in the vicinity when they come on, even if nobody’s talking. Those are the best ones ever. Countdown time!

5. The Empire Carpet Commercials

These commercials are legend. Although the actual meat of the advertisement isn’t funny, it’s just so catchy! Ask anyone on the street who the thirty-fourth president was, and they won’t know. (It was Eisenhower, if you were curious.) But ask anyone for the Empire jingle, and they’ll sing, “800 588 2300 Empire!” Great advertising, Empire. Now every time I hear the numbers ’588′ in succession, I think, “2300…” But sometimes, the song annoys the crap out of me. You may eventually cause my suicide. Great knowing you have that on your conscience, huh?

4. The Cheez-it Cheese Test Commercials

Have you ever seen this one? A scientific-looking guy walks into a sterile white room wearing a lab coat to evaluate cheese. They need to see if it’s ready to be made into Cheez-its. Well, the beginning of the commercial cracks me up. It’s a new take on a great joke. (Keep in mind, the cheese wheel is trying its best not to laugh through the whole joke.) “Knock knock.” “Who’s there.” “Interrupting cheese.” “Int-” “CHEESE!” And the cheese wheel cracks up. You might not think it’s funny, but look it up on YouTube. It’s funny.

3. The New Stanley Steemer Commercials

Stanley Steemer commercials used to be “just okay”. But now, I think they’re hilarious. The ones with the two guys in the truck? One jumps out when he sees a carpet rolled up by the trash, and kneels next to it, sobbing, “Why?!?! I could have saved this one!” And then he actually sobs. It’s kinda funny. But the other one… is great. I don’t feel like explaining it, because then it’s not as funny, so watch it here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNItpCBK_3I&feature=related.

2. The Oreo Twins Commercials

This one isn’t really funny, but I like the ending. You’ve got the Manning brothers on one side of a table, and Donald Trump on the other. He apparently bid on Oreo’s DSRL (whatever that is) and failed. So he’s going to lick-race the Mannings for it. Apparently they’re the lick-race champions… plus Trump doesn’t have a partner. “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t.” “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t.” And then Trump presses a button on his shiny gold desk, and a bookcase revolves around, revealing… DOUBLE TRUMP! Up until now isn’t really funny. But the last part is funny. Because it’s such a Trump stereotype. Again, it’s not funny unless you watch it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krwL3LAHX5E.

1. The King of All Commercials

I’m positive all of you have seen this one… unless you’ve been living in a pond for the last few years. It’s the Huntington Learning Center Commercials. That’s right. They’re not supposed to be funny, but man are they hilarious! The mom bursts into the room, screaming, “Another bad report card?!” The kid replies, “I hate school!” The over-dramatic mom shouts, “We grounded you, got tutors!” And the ever-moody child says, “You think I want to fail?” And the mom goes on to call Huntington Learning Center, and her son really can learn, and everything’s super. Hooray. See how they’re meant to be not-funny? But their acting is just so horrendous! And they try to make it so overdramatic like, “Oh no, this kid’s failing English! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SUCH A BAD CHILD I HATE YOU GRAAAH.” Actually, that might be how it actually goes down, but not how they do it in the commercial. This is another one that just can’t be explained, because it’s just so priceless, so here you go. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjU2mgXbtw8.

~So there. My top five commercials. There are probably better ones, but I can’t think of them right now. Plus I’m tired. Gosh, why do you all have such high standards? DON’T HATE ME. (That is all.)

~You know what’s strange? All the prettiest girls have giant inferiority complexes. They’ll be drop dead gorgeous, and always complain about how bad they look in a bikini, or how they hate their hair or wish they were more tan (or less tan… ridiculous). And you’re walking next to them, hand twitching because you’re going to slap their beautiful face if they complain one more time. And this is slightly annoying. By slightly, I mean so annoying I want to wax my face with duct tape.

~ But that’s not even the worst part. What’s horrifying is when unattractive girls have inflated egos. You’ll be sitting there, and hear them behind you saying, “Oh my god, I love my hair today. This shirt looks so good! My skin is really clear. I got a sexy tan yesterday.” And they just go on and on about how gorgeous they are. And you turn back to see unbrushed, greasy hair and orange skin. (Doesn’t that just drive you nuts?) It’s slightly ridiculous. By slightly, I mean so ridiculous I want to beat myself with a skinned rat until my own skin falls off. (Not pleasant, I can tell you)

~I have nothing more to say about the previous topic. It’s pretty straightforward. So instead, I’ll ramble about other things.

~Facebook pages are getting kind of ridiculous. You know those pages like “Six amazing powers of the human body!” or “Look what this guy said to his girlfriend!”? They piss me off. Because in order to see them, you have to like the page. And then go to another page. And fill out a survey. And go to yet another page. It’s not fun! Especially if your laptop crashes every time you have two internet windows open (read previous post). And, most of the time, they end up being dumb things that you already knew. And now you have seven viruses on your computer.

~Girls make me angry. Especially those girls, you know what I’m saying? The ones that think it’s a good idea to fit themselves into a closet and get stuck, or talk so loudly you want to beat them with a skinned rat, or talk about how hot your teacher is when he’s standing right outside the door. I hate them. I want to move to an island and only take nice people and smart people and good bands and their families. And leave all the dumb, mean people behind. Because they’re yucky.

~Seriously, this thing is a piece of crap. First of all, it’s monstrous. It’s three inches bigger than my lap. And it barely fits on my desk (not that that’s saying much… my desk is like, two inches wide).

~Second. When I turn it on, it makes an EXTREMELY loud rumbly noise. Which is fine, as long as you’re not trying to turn on your laptop at midnight while your little brother is sleeping in the room next to you. I have to sit there and put pressure on my CD drive to stifle the noise. It’s loads of fun.

~Numero trois. The keyboard is really bad. I’ll try to type “concubine” and end up with “onubne”. Then I have to backspace and hit every key extremely hard to get what I want. (Don’t ask why I want to type “concubine”… DON’T JUDGE ME.)

~And four. The most annoying, out of all… THE INTERNET SUCKS. I’ll be on Facebook, procrastinating, and I’ll try to talk to two of my friends at the same time on chat. Well, a few seconds after that second chat window pops up, my internet crashes. Then I’ll get back on the internet and try to procrastinate on Facebook and YouTube at the same time, right? Well, a few seconds after that second tab pops up, guess what happens? “Windows is trying to locate the cause of this problem.” You know what, thanks Windows, but after a few seconds (or minutes), you always say, “Windows could not locate the cause of this problem.” You still get a star for effort though… LOL jk, your problem-locator sucks. Fire him.

~So that’s what’s wrong with my laptop. Get me a new one, please. For… the Fourth of July.

~That’s right ladies- bikini time. And for those of you who actually do physical activity over the winter (freaks), this is no problem. You can put on your skimpy little bathing suit and look sexy at the pool.

~However, us theater kids and techies and history buffs are allergic to strenuous activity. We sit around on our fat asses all winter, chomping on noms, and then summer comes and smacks us in the face. We don’t look sexy in the spring. If we want to look good, we have to work for it. (See how I made us look dedicated even though we don’t exercise all winter?)

~This is my problem. I’m a biological mess, with loose ligaments and back problems and multiple ankle sprains… so I’m forbidden by my doctor to run. Well, this presents a wee little problem, doesn’t it? Spring rolls around and I’m a fat sack who gets winded from walking up the stairs. And I don’t like how my tummy looks in a bikini.

~So you say, “Emily, you’re dumb. Just exercise! You’ll look better!” Well, folks, it ain’t that easy. Give me a form of cardio that doesn’t involve running, jumping, or anything with a partner. Or swimming. Basically, that leaves swinging my arms and legs around like an idiot. (Which, might I add, is extremely tiring.) And then I can’t do crunches, because it aggravates my back.

~I think God is telling me that I’m destined to be fat.

~And now that I’m finally sitting in front of my computer, I forget what I was going to write about. Of course. It had something to do with… hair…  I think. I’ll remember eventually. Check back, I’ll probably post another right after this. Or I’ll sleep. One of the two.

~But now, you’re stuck here, with me, and I’m not even writing anything worthwhile. I’ve got curlers in my hair, in case you wanted to know. Curling irons don’t work for me. My hair is just too thick and luscious- HOLY CRAP I REMEMBER!

~Okay! I know what I’m writing about now! See, I was doing my hair, which took me like fifteen or twenty minutes, and then an extra ten to fix all the messed-up ones… and I think, “Do guys understand what we do to look good in the morning?” And it occured to me: Uh, no! They don’t!

~See, picture your average teenage girl. She will wake up at five in the morning to take a shower, blow dry her hair, straighten her hair, put on all her makeup, and then spend up to half an hour picking an outfit. Forget breakfast. Maybe she’ll throw a granola bar in her backpack before she leaves. On a lazy day, she’ll wake up at five thirty because her hair looks fine enough without a shower. She’ll just straighten it.

~Now picture your average teenage guy. His bus comes at, let’s say… 6:50. He’ll wake up at 6:45, throw on a t-shirt and a pair of those crappy mesh shorts, and walk out the door.

~What the hell is wrong with this picture?! Women spend hours making sure they look good, and I’m sure all you guys out there appreciate it. If we walked into school smelling like you, we’d all be single. Take a hint.

~But guys can just throw on some clothes from their bedroom floor and be ready for their day. You don’t even need to comb your hair since it’s so short. And you don’t worry about your outfit, since your entire wardrobe is t-shirts, mesh shorts, and a few sweatshirts.

~That’s what I don’t understand. We girls need to plan our outfits, put some thought into it. It’s going to be cold? Put on a pair of jeans. You want to wear this shirt? Well, it doesn’t go with these jeans, it only looks good with skinny jeans. Wait, this shirt isn’t long sleeved? I’ll have to find a cardigan… but I can’t find the one that goes with this shirt…

~You see what I mean? We put some thought into these outfits, and all you can do is throw on some gym clothes. I mean, those mesh shorts are great for sports and stuff, but you can wear real clothes to school. Buy a pair of jeans, or some khaki shorts. Maybe get a polo or two. You complain that we don’t look our best, or that our hair doesn’t smell nice? You look like crap. You smell like crap. Why should we get all dolled up for you?