Poisson d'Avril

It is the first of April. Not being a family for pranks and jokes (although my sister has been trying to convince me that I have a bug in my hair since eight) but feeling that we should do something, my siblings and I decided to do something French: drawing fish and taping them to people's backs. People being my aunt, with whom we are going to have frozen yogurt with at two.Oh no! I have mercury in me!

Help! I ate a plastic bag!

My name is Bob. Even if I tell you otherwise.

Yay Realization.......

I love spring because everything is my favorite color. My favorite color is the color of overcooked mashed green peas.

It's beautiful.

So I am in the car, talking excitedly to my mother about how the world is my favorite color and I how lovely it is that some of the leaves are out and aren't they a beautiful color? To which my mother looks at me and says "Emma. That is the color of pollen."

Yay. I like the color of pollen.

So, while book reviewers can say in their usual exuberant way "While the world's previous colors have been separate gems of their own, 'dark blue' is a color sure to entrance even the youngest of book reviewers." and artist can say "I love all beige. I use it in all my paintings. My masterpiece is going to be a beige canvas" and writers can say. "I like black.", I can say "I like the color that not only makes people's eyes water but makes them sneeze uncontrollably and curse the world from inside their curtained windows."

A Battle in Buy Mode

Before I turned on the computer......

Me: Hey, Peter and Laura, do you want to be on a blog post about your Sims?
Laura: Sure!
Peter: Okay, but you have to spell ten dinosaur names. This is a spelling test. Starting now. Spell 'Tyrannosaurus Rex.'
Me: *exasperated* Do YOU know how to spell that?
Peter: SPELL IT!!!
Me: T-y-r-a-n-n.......

---

Laura: You're obviously going to make this funnier than it is.
Me: *types*
Laura: Emma!
Me: *typing*
Laura: And you're probably going to make up lines.
Me: *sigh* No. Okay. So. Um, Peter.... tell me about the Pop Stove family.
Peter: First of all, their middle name is not "Pop" all the time.
Me: So their permanent last name is "Stove"?
Peter: Yes. Second of all, the mom and the dad are aliens.
Me: But their son is not.
Peter: He is not because, well, he landed on a car out of the spaceship.
Me: But he's Caucasian.
Peter: What does Caucasian mean?
Me: Fair-skinned. Wait...how does landing on a car mean that he doesn't have green skin?
Peter: Well, if an alien falls out of a spaceship and they don't really want to, they become a person. They keep their alien traits, though.
Me: And his parents let this happen?
Peter: No! They never knew they had a son!
Me: Oh-kay..... So they adopted a son when they bought their house. Do they like children? Even though theirs is human?
Peter: Yes, because he has a lot of fishing skill, and they like fish. And, they really like that they can finally have somebody that's a Couch Potato in their family.
Me: And that's a good thing?
Peter: Yo, like totally!
Me: Okay. Let's talk about where their son got adopted to in a few minutes. I want to ask Laura about her families. Which is your favorite?
Laura: The artist one I just made with the lady and the guy I made to be her husband.
Me: Yes.... and they are nocturnal?
Laura: Yes. The guy is a Ghosthunter, so he has to get up at all times of night, and the mom is an artist (that's her job) and she works at home. So she can sleep whenever she wants, and stay up as late as she wants. They're going to have kids soon.
Me: Twins? Triplets?
Laura: Singlets!
Me: Oh. What about your other families?
Laura: Oh, well, which one? Do you want to talk about the celebrity one?
Me: There's a celebrity one?
Laura: Yes. She's a five-star celebrity and lives in a cool house--
Me: The one with a dance floor, pool, hot tub, and lots of windows?
Laura: That's the one. She loves to paint and she loves music and she has a butler.
Me: *gasps* Bertram Plunkett?
Laura: No. But, maybe, actually. Um, she is not married (yet) and if there were pets on Sims 3 she would have pets.
Me: Any other families?
Laura: Uh, yes. Well, there's a family with a mom and a dad and the dad is a Police and the mom is an Investigator. Their kids include a child boy and a toddler girl. I think the boy's name is Walter.
Me: And they live in a very small apartment.
Laura: No, I moved them.
Me: Really?
Laura: Yes. Now their apartment is the whole floor.
Me: Ooh.
Laura: Their whole family is good at Logic.
Me: Cool. So, Peter, tell us about the family your guy was adopted into.
Peter: Huh?
Me: The 'naughty boys' household.
Peter: Oh, yeah! Well, the Naughty Boys were pretty naughty!
Laura: Tell them about the nice mom.
Peter: Later. And the baby was a fighter in crime.
Me: Didn't he sleep outside?
Peter: For just one night!
Me: I think that's illegal.
Peter: Let me tell you about a different family.
Me: *sighs* You may talk about the Ninjas later.
Peter: *sigh* Not the Ninjas!
Me: So, what?
Peter: The family that, you know, created the Smasher!
Laura: You mean the Chinese family? Then I get to talk about it too, because I made a character. I made the girl.
Me: Please. Let's move on either to elaboration on the Naughty Boys or your architecture techniques.
Peter: Well, the Naughty Boys *sigh* I don't really know where they live.
Me: *sigh* Let's move on to architecture. I know that both of you like excessive lighting!
Laura: I like lighting!
Peter: Well, I make graveyards a lot! I accidentally made one when I tried to make an outdoor sleeping place.
Laura: He had the graveyard statue.
Peter: Hey! I put Stonehenge in too! I think. But now I'm sure I made beds, too.
Laura: Yes, you did.
Peter: I also put in an outdoor grill.
Me: Do you like basements?
Laura and Peter: Yes!
Me: Do you ever make nine-story-tall houses?
Laura: Five and three, yes.
Peter: No. I can do only three stories.
Me: Do you 'Edit Town'?
Peter: I delete the school. And the Criminal career. I turned it into a nice park, aka accidentally a graveyard.
Me: I thought you did that to the school, too.
Peter: No.
Me: On the Ninjas.
Peter: No, both of them were parks.
Laura: *leaves*
Me: Go get her!
Peter: No. I'm leaving, too.
Me: *dejected*

UPDATE: Kitten movie

I can't remember if I put this on the blog or not, but a long while ago, in December, my little sister and mother rented a video called "Kitten Party" which was just kittens running around being cute for 75 minutes. We LOVED it.

If you have gift cards you simply must go here and buy it--don't forget to read the comments!!!

ILY, ICU. . . .

*cough cough* Okay, so MAYBE getting pneumonia and flu type B was an over-exaggerated way to get out of school, homework, blogging, PE, life, etc., but I have to tell you. . . I love the intensive care ward.

INTENSIVE CARE:
-Nobody ignores me
-Everybody is nice
-People do things to make me get better
-People do not ignore me
-Big window
-Electric bed (whee!)
-People CARE
-I eat food for the first time
-I get to wear my own shirt again
-I get a second IV
-I get poked with a needle which is raked around in my hand nine times
-I get both IVs taken out
-I get a nose tube in
-I get my nose tube out
-I have to be on constant drug so I am constantly hyper, anxious, obsessive, nauseous, high heartrate, etc.
NON-INTENSIVE CARE, AKA REGULAR HOSPITAL, WHICH THEY CALL THE FLOOR:
-They say you hit the floor. I wish we'd punched it.
-Nobody cares about me
-I do have a shower.
-I have my own bathroom
-Everybody ignores me
-They keep telling me I have asthma. "You MIGHT have had the flu." Heck ya I had the flu, I took the disgusting medicine, didn't I?
-Impersonal nurses.
-Gross medicine
-Call me beautiful, leave me alone, wake me up every four hours to drug me again. Blek.
NUMBERS:
-1: The amount of times I wanted to take gross medicine.
-2: The amount of nights I had with the ever-awesome Tina, who helped me get well. Also the amount of nights I was sedated into lucid dreams in which I decorated socks in my bedroom with Justin Bieber and my French and Social Studies classes as well as played tag with everyone my brain could come up with in a certain huge neighborhood near my school. The recurring theme, though, was me forgetting and/or not doing my homework, which preceded my doom. Grr. Make-up work. And sometimes I just went to school.
-3: Number of meals a day I had. Now I have to drink just orange juice, because everything else tastes like hospital.
-4: The number of pounds I lost. Grr. THANKS A LOT HOSPITAL, NOW MY CLOTHES ARE BAGGY.
-5: Times 10, approximately the speed of the air forced up my nose. I think, don't go around spreading that. It was fast and I heard the number 50.
-6: The number of shows I watched on TLC (Toddlers & Tiaras, Cake Boss, Kitchen Boss, Say Yes to the Dress, DC Cupcakes, and Moving Up) for, like, I dunno, 29 hours?
-7: The amount of days I spent in the hospital. I miss you all SO much.

I don't know these people. . . .

Let's cut to the chase. I've been saying my sibling's names wrong.

At eight o'clock, which is pretty late, I came downstairs and lay on the couch. Peter was already downstairs and he jumped on me. "PETER," I yelled, "GET OFF." Except that, instead of saying "Peter" I said "Peder".

Me: Peder.
My mother: No, Peter.
Peter: Yes. Peter.
Me: PEE-ter.
Peter: PeterPeterPeterPeterPeter!!!
Me: Pete-er.
My mother: Good.
Peter: Goodgoodgoodgood!!!
Me: Pete-er. Pete-er.
Peter: Or you could call me Pete.
Me: I refuse.
Me: (time has elapsed, during which I practice saying Pete-er.) What about Laura? (Except that I pronounced it Lorra.)
My mother: Emma! You can't pronounce Laura's name!
Me: I can so too pronounce it! Lorra!
My mother: No, it's Lahruh.
Peter: Lahruh!
Me: (long painful time has passed, with un-typeabale pronunciations) I'm going to go ask Lahruh.
My mother and Peter: Good!
Me: *runs upstairs* Say your name!
Laura: Lorra. . . .
Me: Uh-oh. . . . Say Peter.
Laura: Peder. . . .
Me: Why don't you come downstairs. . . .
Laura: Uh. . .okay.
Laura: (after briefing) I'VE BEEN SAYING MY NAME WRONG!?!?!?!?! And Peter's?
My mother: I think you learned it from Emma.
Me: But what about Peter?
My mother: You were at school, not teaching him.
Me: Bah.

People. This will take practice. (And we have to correct all of our friends, whom we taught to say their names wrong.)

Peanut Butter Mousse Chocolate Cake. . . .

May have had a moment last night. . . .

Me: *sways back and forth* *eating cake* *euphoric*
Laura: Emma.
Me: *la la la la la dee lah*
Laura: Eh-muuhhhhhh.
Me: Mm?
Laura: We're about to go.
Me: *Stops eating cake, of which about half is left, and commences scraping chocolate syrup off the plate*
My Darling Mother: Here, Emma, put the rest of the cake in this. *hands me a leftover box*
Me: *laughs like a maniac, with syrup and mousse on nose* *flips cake into box*
My Darling Mother: Why don't we put the rest of my cake in there too, for later. *puts 1" by 1" square of chocolate cake into box*
Me: * laughing crazily* Yeah, for later. . . . *finger air quotes around later*
My Darling Family: *exits restaurant*
Me: *walks into door*

I love peanut butter mousse chocolate cake. . . too bad I only get it every other year or so.