Laura's UPDATED ears (yup, she did it)

Yesterday at four o'clock, Laura departed with *GASP* the intention of getting her ears pierced. (Yup, at the tattoo parlor, see here) and she did. She actually went through with it.

On his business card, Laura's piercer had "Super Wicked Awesome Master Piercer," which just shows that we did indeed get the right person to pierce her ears. It reminds me much of my cousins--the dealer from whom they bought the car had "The Master" on his business card, and thus provided a name for their car.

Instead of getting studs, she got a hoop. Not a big hoop, but it goes just-under her ear and back up again. As my mom keeps reminding her, she would have gotten the same mini-hoop if she had gotten her eyebrow or belly button pierced. She also got it pierced in a different way than my mom had. I'm not sure if this is widely used nowadays or what, so please voice in if you know. The guy used a hollow needle, so a tiny hole of her ear is in the compost as we speak.

Last night, we accomplished the difficult task of soaking her ear in salt water--five minutes per ear. The ordeal was awkward for her--seeing as leaning sideways isn't very comfortable--but great for Peter and me, who got to watch more television online. Television is evidently very good at distracting you from the eerie fact that salt water is dripping down your neck. We also got cream-cheese brownie pieces, which I fed to her.

She attests that getting her ears pierced hurt quite sharp for a second, and the first hurt less than the second. My little brother compares it to being clawed by a crawfish. And she can wear hoops immediately after getting the mini-hoops off at the end of September. And they make her look more grown-up, which is weird for me, because I am losing more of my big-sister rights.

So far, no infection or pain. . . I have the lovely joy of being asked to "smell her ears" because they have watermelon-scented antibacterial-soap.

As for a Perry update, last night he and Daisy stole a bag of compost left on the counter and took them upstairs to munch on--because it had bread in it. Sigh. And they ate it by my room, so that just proves what a lovely person I am. I bet all you lucky people can't say that, so. . . yeah. I'm awesome.

Perry: the unwanted feline alarm clock

Y'all know me: I love waking up early. However, I like to sleep into seven o'clock when given the chance.

Then comes Perry, who has pushed "Waking Emma up and 5:15 or 5:49" into #2 on his to-do list, right after "FOODFOODFOODFOODFOOD!!!!!" unfortunately for me. Every morning he prances into my room and commences nudging my face, chewing everything plastic, and mewing. Of course, once the sun comes up he sits down and purrs whilst I give up on getting my two hours of sleep back.

My mom has started locking him on the screen porch. And Daisy, because once Perry pries the door open, she loves to come in and bathe herself, hygienic little kitty that she is.

I'll update you on a future post along with Laura's soon-to-be-updated ears.

My Sticky-Note Obsession

A couple of weeks ago, my mother forced me to clean my room. (See here.) I was not pleased. She was.

While I groaned and moaned, my mom organized my desk drawers. She thus discovered that the amount of Sticky Notes that I possess was larger than half the drawer. It included "E" sticky notes, heart sticky notes, sticky notes from my grandfather's health conferences, accordion sticky notes, mini sticky notes, sticky notes for school, sticky notes for home, apple sticky notes, sticky notes for lists, sticky notes for trips, sticky notes from hotels. . . the list goes on.

As my mom wedged stack after stack of sticky notes in my drawer, she began warning me about my obsession. I then reminded her about her own collection of index cards. She was suddenly satisfied with her work and ABANDONED ME in the ROOM OF GLOOM.

But yeah, I cleaned the rest of my room, and I now can sleep in peace, knowing that all ten million of my sticky notes are safe in their drawer.

I really hope my little sister collects desk dividers. . . .

Interview with Peter: Sauropods & Food

Ah, the whimsical life of we who boink our noses into our bed headboards on the one day our cat doesn't wake us up. . . . I'm not sure why I made an entire post about breakfast yesterday. A short one, too. Hm.

Here's the interview.

Me: PETER. Come over here so I can interview you.
Peter: Interview me?
Me: Yeah.
Peter: ANNNH!!! I was going to say the word but then I forgot it because of YOU!!!! Hmph.
Me: *waits a while* Peter?
Peter: What? What does what and you're saying mean. 'Cause if you don't tell me anything, then I'm not going to talk to you.
Me: Okay, Peter, would you please come over here? Or do you want me to ask you from here?
Peter: I not talking. And you didn't tell me what that means.
Emma: COME ON.
Peter: What's an interview?
Me: It's where you ask questions and someone else answers.
Peter: Okay. I'll start.
Me: No! I ask the questions!
Peter: I won't interview otherwise.
Me: Fine.
Peter: What was the biggest dinosaur?
Me: Um, a sauropod.
Peter: What type of sauropod?
Me: I thought sauropod WAS a type.
Peter: Remember this, Emma. There are two different types of sauropods. Wait, make that three. There's a long one, a procerapod--
Me: My computer doesn't think that's a word.
Peter: There's a titanosaur, and a big one. You might be spelling them wrong.
Me: Fine. My turn. So--
Peter: You have to guess!!!
Me: I have to guess?
Peter: Yes! It's not the titanosaur, a procerapod, or a long one.
Me: Oh. So it's the big one?
Peter: Yeah.
Me: Can I ask the questions now?
Peter: I already did!
Me: But I--
Peter: Why is there a big "L" and a small "A?" *laughs*
Me: Where?
Peter: Already. *points*
Me: That's a little "L."
Peter: I mean small "A."
Me: But I already capitalized the "I."
Peter: I want you to answer the question: what was the biggest dinosaur?
Me: A big one.
Peter: NO!! No. No, no no.
Me: Um. . . the one that swims and is as big as our house?
Peter: Brachisaurus? No way.
Me: My computer doesn't think that's a word, either.
Peter: Emma, you spelled it wrong. Do you want me to get my book?
Me: Fine. Get the book.
Peter: Do you think it's this one?
Me: That's Brontosaurus. It's not real.
Peter: Yes it is! It's Apatosaurus!
Me: Whatevs.
Peter: This is how you spell sauropod. See?
Me: Yeah.
Peter: Pooey.
Me: I already spelled sauropod correctly.
Peter: On every single one?
Me: Yes.
Peter: Answer my question!
Me: Fine. I give up.
Peter: Lee-o-lee-o-lee. It's U-tral-SAURUS. (Note: pronunciation guide only, as I'm too lazy to find the real name.
Me: It's Utahraptor? I don't think I spelled that right.
Peter: NO!! RAPTORS ARE TOO SMALL. I can't find my other book, Emma.
Me: *sigh*
Peter: It's Utralsaurus. Just put them together.
Me: No. Let's move on. Can I ask a question now?
Peter: Okay. *sigh*
Me: So, Peter. What is your favorite food?
Peter: Don't do so before my name!
Me: But that's what I said.
Peter: *laughs at accidental keyboard shortcut that italicizes stuff by surrounding them in code*
Me: What is your favorite food?
Peter: I like Pete. And I won't tell you for a long time.
Me: This is an interview. You're supposed to answer questions.
Peter: You did for long time!
Me: Well, yeah, now it's your turn.
Peter: Okay! It's tangerine. Wait, it's not tangerine. It's. . . um. . . what's that thing called that you didn't want, Emma?
Me: It's an apricot, and it has no flavor.
Peter: I love apricots. My turn.
Me: No, let's continue this another time.
Peter: No.
Me: Yes.
Peter: N-O N-O N-O!!!
Me: Yes.
Peter: Hmph!
Me: But we'll continue it later!
Peter: No!
Me: Hmph.

Breakfast

I love breakfast. It's my favorite meal of the day. However, having the same thing every day is tiring, so I have reviewed various breakfasts for you here.

Pancakes: All my sister will eat, so they disgust me. We have them all the time.
Waffles: I love them, but my little sister's best friend requires whipped cream with them. A LOT of whipped cream.
Fried Egg: Yum, although sometimes my mom messes them up because the pan and flipper are messed up.
Bacon: Yummalicious all the time. Especially good with a fried egg.
Cereal: Meh.
Toast: Yum; it depends if it's ding toast or not.
Muffins: Chocolate ones, usually. :D

I must go; OGTSGS is still in progress.

Earning Mah Keep (Being Good For A Better Cause): Morning Version

So, as you know, my sister and I (and my mom, which does help) love love LOVE the Sims 3. We have all the expansions. But there's a new one coming out this autumn (eep) and so Laura and are being SUPER GOOD. Thus, our activities include:

--Making our beds (Both): I think we're supposed to do this all the time. However, to kill dust mites, I leave it messy while I eat breakfast. Then I make it. But sometimes I forget. . . . :-/ Laura hasn't forgotten since she found a big black spider in her bed. }:)
--Limiting our computer usage (me): Oh well, my mom awards computer time if we're good. . . the blog helps.
--Folding the laundry (me): And shooing mah kittums away from the hair-free laundry.
--Putting away the laundry (me) Ditto.
--Putting away clean dishes (me): While I wait for my mom to make me breakfast (fried eggs and bacon, yummay) I get bored of staring at dinosaurs.
--Putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher (me): I get bored waiting for my mom to make me breakfast. . . still. . . people are SUPPOSED to eat breakfast at SEVEN, not EIGHT FORTY-FIVE.
--Making breakfast for everyone(me): I think we all know who's earning this.
--Setting the table (me): I should be getting this game early, yes?

It's 9:51 am. . . off to be good again. . . .

Cutest Picture: Daisy

Try to tell me that this is not the best non-kitten picture EVER.

No, I don't mean actually SAY that.