I EXEMPTED MATH!!! (By a Hair)

I exempted the Math I final exam! I missed two days of school, which means I had to make an A to exempt-- and here's the amazing part-- I DID. I got an A. In math. A 90, actually.
Maybe some people don't find this so amazing, but I haven't gotten a good grade in math since we started adding big numbers. I'm usually struggling to get a grade that my parents won't murder me for, but this year I got an A!
I've exempted everything, actually-- Drama, Honors Literature, and Journalism, not that I was worried about those classes. In those classes all I have to do is my work. No effort required on my part, which is kind of sad.
I do learn things, though. Which I guess is the point.
You know what?
Scooters, vacation, fall. My name is Mango!

Wandering

Do you ever wonder why people are so cruel?
I have a few theories, but never mind that. The important thing is, that, um, ah, er, that is-- it's important that I had muffins for breakfast. Why is it important? Because otherwise I would have been hungry, and thus cranky, and thus in no mood to tell you that SCHOOL IS ALMOST OUT!!!
One more week after today. Five more days. That's all.
Of course, then I have three more years to look forward to.
Did I ever mention that I hate school? Shocking, isn't it? I'm bored out of my mind, and I'm one of those people who can't stand being bored. I'm not just bored with school, either, I'm bored with my entire life. Nothing ever happens. Which is why nobody reads this blog except my Journalism teacher; I have nothing to say. I have nothing to say because I have nothing to do; I have nothing to do because nothing ever happens to me. All I can do on this dumb blog is ramble endlessly. I look forward to sleeping because my dreams are interesting. Pathetic much? The alternative is being awake, you see, which means math and kickboxing and chores, or maybe being dead, which sounds dumb and pointless and even more boring because even if I went to Heaven I'd be stuck doing the same thing for ALL ETERNITY (!!!), which is kinda what I'm doing now, only hopefully only for the next three years.
I shouldn't be whining. Other peoples' lives suck a lot more than mine and here I am complaining because I'm bored.
Well.
It still sucks. Sorry.
I wish I could learn the things I want to learn, things that are interesting and actually useful. Literature is great and all, but the only reason I don't hate that class is because it's so easy for me and potentially entertaining when we're learning about something that my peers all hate (thus making it more likely that I already like whatever we're going over). I want to learn how to make things. I want to understand birds and flight and machinery so I can make myself some mechanical wings and fly so far away that no one will ever find me and make me do something boring ever again.

Happy Birthday!

It's Tchiakovsky's birthday! I don't know why everyone on Twitter cares, though. Aren't they all supposed to be obsessed with Justin Beiber and Miley Cyrus? Anyways, it's his 170th birthday. Tchaikovsky, if you didn't know, composed Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty and the like.
I have weird dreams. Am I the only one? I had this really detailed, really cool dream sometime last year. I was robbing stores with my friend, both of us dressed as superheroes. We both worked at the mall we robbed. In any case, some photographers got a few lucky snapshots of us, and as we were leaving work one night (it was Christmas, and storming outside) we got called up to the manager's office on the intercom. I told my friend to leave and I'd talk us out of it, so she left. I went up to the office and told the manager that my friend had already left, and she accepted it. Then she started asking me questions all casual-like. I didn't give anything away. Before she dismissed me, she showed me the mall's pride and joy, and new shipment that had arrived, and it was this nice, shiny sword. She got very complementary then, all "you're a clever girl, and I think a change in job status is in store for you" and friendly winks. It was obviously bait, so I packed up that night and ran for it.
I headed for the mountains-- don't ask me why-- and there was this pod of talking dolphins. We got along great. They taught me how to skim across water and breathe underwater and cool stuff like that. Then I entered into this race with a dolphin buddy of mine as a partner. We won, but as we crossed the finish line I went under a waiting line rail instead of around it all proper-like, and they got very offended. Apparently cutting through was illegal! Whoops!
They called me a criminal and threw me out. The authorities caught up with me and forced me to commit suicide by jumping off a waterfall. Only it didn't work because I took a potion that made me look dead but actually preserved my body against anything. When it wore off, I'd wake up. Now the tradition for dead bodies in this dream world was to set them afloat in a floating coffin out on the sea, so I knew I'd wake up and be long gone and dead to the world-- in other words, free.
Only when I woke up, it turned out the authorities hadn't been so trusting. They'd kept my body in a lab, with permission or not I don't know, and when I woke up there were two people acting as monitors, a black woman holding a round, flat object and looking harassed as the man beside her said, "I don't care. I 'm not trusting her to be dead. So hold this" of the disc-like thing, "like it is and if it turns red, get me." Then he marched out. Seconds after the thing glowed red, and the lady turned hesitantly half-out the door, at which point in time I took the opportunity to hit her over the head with a pipe.
The man heard the commotion and went to stop me, but I was out.
Somewhere I met up with other fugitives. We hijacked a pink castle with wheels from a Goodwill and threw smokebombs at the authorities as we drove our getaway castle to the mountains.
Only it turned out that at some point someone had sprayed tracking spray on me! Just my luck. We got surrounded by Death Eaters.
Then there's a cliffhanger for everyone, because my mom woke me up to go to school.

What I Did For Spring Break:

-nothing

-slept in

-nothing

- cleaned my room

-nothing

- watched Avatar (I'm sorry, how was that supposed to be a "great" movie?)

-so much nothing that I went insane.

Well, I would have gone insane, anyway, except that I was not as bored as I have been before in far worse situations... and I'm already as crazy as an agitated bee hive anyway. It comes of being the eldest of three.

Or the middle child, which I actually am. But at least I'm not destined to fail!

Aside from being entirely and irreversibly bonkers, I am a bit of a procrastinator. It's not really bad or anything with me, though, because I procrastinate efficiently. I always manage an at least decent grade, mostly good ones, and I won't focus on a task if I have five more days to do it anyway. It does have its drawbacks, however. Like, when your printer breaks and you really, really, really, really, really need to print something out? And your dad won't fix it because he has five more days to fix it? And four more days to fix it? And then three days, then two? And then one, only he doesn't feel like fixing it so why don't you just get your mother to print it while she's at work?

Thanks, my paternal procrastinator. I know from whom I inherited it.

WHY? WHY must people inflict this upon me? What did I ever do to them? Seriously-- I'm walking down the hall, trying to get to class on time like a good student, and a pair of feather-heads who think with their reproductive organs are spread out across the hallway, taking up as much space as possible, and holding hands. Seriously? Seriously? Is it necessary to take up that much space and make people late to class? Let me answer that for you: NO!
The next couple I see doing this, I am going to karate chop your hands off.
I watched the movie Astro-Boy. It was made by Summit Entertainment, a.k.a. the people responsible for the disaster that is Twilight (and its sequels). It was sad. It started off all right, and I was like, "Cool." But then Toby died, and here I was thinking, "Oh my gosh, that's terrible." I was really looking forward to the rest of the movie. However, it just went downhill. It got really corny really fast. Small children would like it, I'm sure, but it isn't exactly appropriate and definitely does not reach any other audiences. I mean, the kid dies, and (spoiler) has his memories and personality downloaded into a robot by his dad the genius. But his dad just can't look at him or love him or anything, so he runs away.
This movie should win a corniness medal. It has the whole "I just want to fit in" shebang, and an "orphan" named Cora (I was almost named Cora, yikes). She actually just ran away because she felt like her parents didn't care, but at the end she finds them and it's SO HAPPY OMG!1! It was lame, which made me sad. I had really wanted to see this. I guess I'll just check out the original series or whatever, because that movie was disappointing. I could have written it better-- in fact, I wish I had written it. It would have been fun and the movie would have been a lot better. Who wrote the script, for heaven's sake. The have, like, NO sense of humor.
In other news, has anybody watched Lady and the Tramp recently? It's a great movie.

So... my lovely green purse has finally kicked the bucket. I spilled some grape Fanta in it while I was at church and it just keeled over. *sigh*
Also, it finally hit me, after listening to the Beatles for two years now, that two of them are DEAD. I had an emotional breakdown and freaked everyone out. Whoops.

My Purse (And How It Relates To The World)

My purse really did bite my best friend. Megan (only I call her Meggie Mango), was searching for a pen. All of a sudden she gave this short little shriek and yanked her hand out. The were two little bite marks on her hand.
My purse has recently died. Sort of. A strap broke, anyway. I usually have about fifty pens and pencils and Sharpies and Expos and the like (the like referring to the spoon in my unused cellphone pocket and the bulldozer in Extended Compartment 34) in there, which is probably why it broke. My mom always tells me that my purse is ridiculously heavy. I am not willing to give up on it, so as a temporary remedy I have taken a hairpin and pinned on the strap and emptied about half of the junk out of my purse until the time arrives when reparation services are available.
The relating to the world part: I fear that, much like my purse, I am becoming rather... ah, negative, to say the least. I don't want to bite people, as people are disgusting. but I'm really starting to hate people. They're nasty. They're collectively and generally stupid (this being part of Paige's Theory of Inherent Stupidity, stated as such: "All people are inherently stupid." The contents of this theory include the collective stupidity of groups-- the larger the stupider--, how it applies to the individual, and how people merit a personal exception. I suggested that she right a book titled, "Fighting the Stupidity Within". She enjoyed the idea.).

I conclude.

Cats

I am a cat person. I have both a cat and a dog, a Siamese Mix named Charli and a Jack Russel Terrier named Nitro/Turnip Head, more commonly known as The Dog. And no offense to dear Nitro, but I just like my cat better. Sure, she yells at us at four in the morning and is a raging catnip addict and gives the most evil glares, but she's just so sweet! She slept on my lap on the couch at four in the morning with me after I woke up with a horrendous spider bite on my elbow. When the dog is being a spazz bean (as all Jack Russel Terriers are, I promise) and driving everybody insane, she swats his nose and hisses at him and suddenly he is the picture of meekness. And she doesn't kill me or even try to scratch me when I get hyper and put her on my head and wear her like a hat, and she's so purry and soft all the time.
My cat is great.
It really isn't her fault she's addicted to catnip anyway, it's mine. I accidentally spilled it on the bed, and she went over to sniff it and see what it was. Then she sneezed three times, sat down right on top of it all, closed her eyes, began breathing deeply, and started to purr. Now every time she's near some she does all that and then starts rolling around and rubbing her head against it, and then she'll just lie there next to it like a rock and not respond no matter how many times you poke her nose.
I don't know if I mentioned how furry, cuddly, and good-natured she is.
As opposed to the dog, who pees on the carpet and gets in the trash can and barks all the time...

It's a good thing we love him.

There's a song by P!nk called Stupid Girls. Maybe you've heard it, maybe not. In any case, I'm just so glad that I'm not the only one tired of all the Stupid Girls.
Don't get me wrong-- I don't stereotype any more than I can help. I reserve judging people and situations until I have as many facts as I can. But I'm human. People say things that make me angry and through this anger I develop a dislike of them. I get first impressions just like everybody else. However, I am completely willing to be proven wrong.
So I carefully analyze people. I talk to them, I observe them, I ask them questions, I watch how they react to certain situations.
And, wow, are there a lot of stupid girls! I mean, really, they dress and talk and act and write the same, for heaven's sake. I am so sick of getting those Looks-- you know the ones I'm talking about. The Ew-Weird-Girl look. The Why-Is-She-Talking-To-Me? look. The Oh-My-Gawd! look. The thing that really grates on my nerves, though, is more their lack of common sense and emotional maturity than anything else.
It's like they never get over themselves. I can handle less-than-brilliant people, but I expect some sort of maturity from people my age. (Call me optimistic.) I feel like screaming and throwing things at them when we're watching, I dunno, and Intervention or something, and we hear about how some girl was raped or sexually abused and they start laughing! They all just break out in giggles over how somebody's life was screwed up!
And oh, some of them are just so needy! The song Stupid Girls goes on about this. Like they'll die if their boyfriend breaks up with them, like they can't do anything for themselves and how they always need their boyfriends. They're all such tools for men, and some of them know it and don't care.

What happened to the dream of a girl president?
She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent.

P!nk says it loud and clear. I'm tired of getting looked down on by people because I don't have or want a boyfriend (excuse me for finding high school boys immature!) or because I read so fast or whatever it is they'll come up with next. And I'm sick of it.

The disease is growing, it's epidemic
I'm scared that there ain't a cure

I won't go on about other songs that could make it any clearer; this isn't what this is about. Hopefully you get the point.