I don't mean to be a prick, but...

Ha ha!

Soul Sista

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you awy from this world so much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time. You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all...But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult. You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Kids Say the Darndest Things!

Mood: amused
Music: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy themesong (All Things)

Ha ha!

Here is a conversation I had with the little five-year-old boy I babysit.

[Watching Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed]

Me: You know Freddie and Dafney are married in real life??

Liam [amazed] : Really??

Me: Yep

. . .

Liam: I am going to marry a gurl, who's... even MORE bootiful dan YOU!

Me: ...Oh. Thanks.

Liam: And she's going to be SOO COOL dat her clothes can LIGHT UP!!

Me [intrigued] : Oh yeah? ...What else?

Liam: ...and her hat... has GADGETS that come out of it!!!

Me: Wow. She must be beautiful then!



...I love this kid.

Stalker? ...I prefer the term "devotee" ;-)

Mood: guilty and sheepish. *bah*
Music: Chantal Kreviazuk - Far Away

I feel so dirty and stalkerish. Heh heh. I have just scoured forward messages for people's e-mails. Why I don't just do the normal thing and ask people for their e-mails is beyond me. Perhaps it gives me a rush. Perhaps I just don't have a life. Perhaps.

Also... I am sick of malls. In the past month I have been to more malls than I normally enter in about two years. (Mind you the Cambridge one still has a Cinnabon and I'm not complaining about that!) I went to the mall yesterday... you see, the mall had something that I didn't, something that I desired. More specifically, a Nightmare Before Christmas bag with Jack the Skeleton on it. I pondered my situation for quite some time, but realized that if Jack were to be mine than a trip through the horrors of Stone Road Mall on boxing week could not be avoided. The mall was infested... but I came away with my prize aswell as a new tank top, The Virgin Suicides (novel version), some vanilla body lotion (I just want to eat myself up with a SPOON!) and an awesome birthday present for Fabio.

Yesterday was also my appointment to donate blood, which turned out to be quite the experience. Not the donation part, I've done that before - but last time I didn't exactly lie about my weight before they sucked a litre of blood out of me. I didn't think it was a big deal, and I didn't feel any different afterwards, except The Mother then decided it was the perfect time to go coat shopping at Winners because it is oh-so-conviently located in the same plaza as the Canadian Blood Services clinic. This meant I had to stand around while she tried on a whole pile of coats thirty years too young for her... I should have taken the hint when the pretty blue spots began to flood my vision, but to make a long story short, your beloved Anne ended up taking a header in the Winners parking lot. Wee! Everyone knows there's nothing more refreshing than passing out in the snow! ...The car ride home was like a drug-induced dream. Pretty kelidoscope-like colours danced infront of my eyes and all people and inanimate objects alike glowed with a brilliant green aura, and I can remember the scarcastic voice in my head proclaiming "My Christmas wish is coming true -- I'M DIEING!!! YAY!!!" So remember folks - donate blood, because the life you save could be your own.

I am okay, though. And I was okay enough to go to the mall not forty-five minutes after that incident. So don't you lose sleep worring about me, I'm fine.

MOVING ON!!!

I would like to take this time to decipher the words of wisdom I left behind on Christmas day.

"Jesus was known to whip up some mighty fine brews hiomself, the old chap! (at least im pretyt syre that was the bible... it might have been rumpelstiltsken or whoever i am not completely sure. bu5t alomsot. )"

Yes, indeed Jesus did whip up some fine brews --he turned water into wine, of course! ...I'm not quite sure where Rumplestiltsken entered my logic, but the fact that both stories involve the turning of a substance A into a substance B (water/wine vs. straw/gold) probably struck me as pretty remarkable at the time.

"bitcbface harlot slut"

Woo Hoo, Anneliese has gotten creative with this one! Wow... I crack myself up sometimes.

"but fuck. motehrfucker ihate that broad. do do do do do... fiddle dee dee!(haha. i said but fuck. haha like butt... eww.)"

Feelings, feelings... heh. Let me repeat: That Broad. Some people make themselves very easy to hate, but I wouldn't say that I truly hate her. Hate is a very strong word, and like love, can prove to be very psychologically damaging. (Hint hint *cough*themaestro*cough*) So yes, the statement "I hate that broad" can be easily said and is on some levels true, but let's not forget I am an exceedingly sentamental person who, on occaision, has balled her eyes out for no reason other than she misses 'that broad'.

Fiddle dee dee.

Merry Christmas.

Ta Da.

Ho Ho Hoq (wahts supposed dto be an exc;amayin mark)

I'm trying to figure out why my pictures have ceased to work. I do not suppose it is because of the server, it could be becvause i tinker4ed woth them half-frunk. (Drunk, rthaat is.)

Haha. Look at me type. like a chimp, I tell you. just call me koko.

I promise to do a translation of that later. w00t! nothin makse merry like a smirnoff or two. and maybe a swig of irish mist... or whatever that crap us. uggh. it was gross. but i tell you... i felt i had to drink SOMETHIGN! i mean, it's Christmas, okay? JESUS'S BIRTHDAY, people?!?!? hell, Jesus was known to whip up some mighty fine brews hiomself, the old chap! (at least im pretyt syre that was the bible... it might have been rumpelstiltsken or whoever i am not completely sure. bu5t alomsot. ) who says I can't be merry... RAH RAH RAH!!! ho hoho. Oh and I had another bad run in with the Maestro concerning bitcbface harlot slut which may or may not have enabled me to be overzealous with the smirnoff intake.
...BUT ITS OVER NOW, OKWY?? okay? thats better. it's all better. He called and we talked about hypnosis and Mindless Self Indilgence and Better Beef and IM OOOOOOOKAY! but fuck. motehrfucker ihate that broad. do do do do do... fiddle dee dee!
(haha. i said but fuck. haha like butt... eww.)

Geeze... I'll do another christmas entry tomorrow when I'm ehhh... more capable of doing so.

CHEERS!

HAPPY bIRTHDAY jESUS!!!!!!!! w00T!!!!!!

ta da

On the Road to Inner Peace

Mood: jolly
Music: bottom dollar baby - nathan wiley

I am looking for inner peace... epiphany, virtue, where art thou?

My contentment has been marred by The Mother's enthusiastic endorsement of the Magic FM all-day request Christmas music marathon... and there is no drinky-drink to make it all go away. None of the time!! ...Heh. Somebody kill me.

On a happier note, Mikey bought me a nail buffer for Christmas. HAHA! Now I can flip off my army of hellion cousins with elegance. w00t! Hooray for holiday spirit!

Also I am very happy because tomorrow I don't have to work -- rejoyce. I showed up today mildly delirious on account of I was up untill 2am on MSN and adding the finishing touches to my drawing (freehand, baby!!!) of this guy I met on Habbo. Wow, man!! This means there are actual real people behind those pixilated midgets, and not just a bunch of bobba-happy twelve year olds. I never knew!

Oopsy dasy! I neglected to clean my room! ...I think I hear an angry Mother! Time to make a slick getaway!!!

BAH HA HA!

ta da.

Downer.

Mood: irritated
Music: L-O-V-E -- Nat King Cole

You know that deep-rooted feeling of disappointment you get when, say, you just make a fantastic work of art, or play flawless Mozart, or make that game-saving touch-down that wins you the Superbowl, and then a less appreciative individual can just blow it off?

Well I just called Derek's house and spoke to his mommy who was like:
"...Is this Christina?"
"No, it's Anneliese."

Wow, I have just been mistaken for a shallow, fabricated, sleazy little [crude word containing four letters]. How special.

Nothing against his mother, it just irks me how my once-best-friend can associate himself with such an absolute sleazebag. ...Someone should teach him that dirty things carry diseases. Bleh.

Over.

Adopt me, Miss Honey!

Mood: gay (as in happy)
Music: Chantal Kreviazuk - Far Away

Everyone look at the wonderful Christmas present I recieved, compliments of Megs and Char (Sunny).


Do I not have the most thoughtful friends in all the world?

V Dawg and I ran the festive assembly today, and I have to say it wasn't bad. There were some other old chaps with us aswell, and The Maestro was nowhere in sight due to some festive bloodwork. Errgh... he's going prematurely senile or something... I mean, what seventeen year old needs monthly bloodwork? Oh!! Oh!! HAPPY THOUGHT!! Okay... the other day I was discussing The Maestro with a friend of mine, and our conversation went something like this:
"...Well, I dunno about that, Derek's pretty feminine."
"Is he gay?"
HAHA! GAY! Well, my first reaction was to hope he isn't gay because seeing as I went out with him that would either mean I am manly enough to attract gay people or I turned him away from women forever.
...But then I got to thinking how freaking hillarious it would be if he was gay!!! HAHA! Derek. Gay. ...Gay as a three-dollar bill. LMAO!!!

Ta Da.

Hooter Helpers - Pills for Itsie Bitsie Tities Turns Tiny Bee Bites Into Holy Hooters - approved by Dr. B. Stacked, Rollong Melons, California

If your chest is more concave than convex, if you have little baby bumps instead of big, succelent melons, Hooter Helpers are for you! Hooter Helpers are cheaper than implants, better than padded bras and work faster than embarassing chest expanding excercises!
WARNING: Hooter Helpers contains "Silly-cones", a revolutionary ingredient that will help you grow your own fun bags... but they might not be exactly on your chest. Use at your own risk!

Supergirl!

Mood: good but very very very very very very tired
Music: Bobby Darin - little bitty pretty one

I have done the impossible. I have basically improvised two major oral assignments in one day. And not died. Haha. Me. Anneliese J. Neumann. Who gets stage-fright in front of a radish--You don't say!

Anywhoodle. Yeah... about that last post. I am a dumb, dumb person. You'd think that after my harrowing ordeals over the summer I'd, you know, not fall madly in lust with someone. But then again I am a dumb, dumb person. (If it weren't for the fact that I completely and utterly try to hide it I really would be screwed. Haha. Go me.)

I miss Edna, my artificial friend at the workplace. True, at first she scared the bejesus out of me and it did not help that little devil-children took it opon themselves to use her as a tool in their wicked mind-games as their mothers got their hair done. Oh, no. But then I kinda started to like her... and I even brought my digital camera in to take a picture, but alas, she had gone on her way. It seems I have missed the boat again... *wistful sigh*

I have been awake for 38 out of the last 48 hours, and it kindof sucks. Perhaps sleep deprivation has something to do with my Y-chromosome-induced phases of giddy. Or maybe there just is such thing as a really cool amazing dude. ...Wow, man.

Raindrops keep falling on my head...

Ta Da.

I heart you.

Mood: giddy as a Japanese schoolgirl
Music: Mandy Moore - Candy

I am having a major crisis!!!! I can't write my essay! AT ALL!!!! On account of all I am capable of doing is sitting around and and listening to Mandy Moore really loud and thinking about this guy and giggling and writing his name with little hearts around it ALL OVER MY SEMINAR SHEET!!! AAAH!!

What am I, twelve??

Private Emotions

I'm trying to complete my major sociology essay on emotional intelligence, really I am, but I keep being distracted by racy fantasies about a canoe.


Ohhh man, is that sexy.

The Life of a Working Woman

Life at Hair Fax:

As if the conversation wasn't sufficiently strange, we now have a life-size doll.

Over.

Ba ba ba... joy of cola!

Mood: chumly... is chumly a word? I don't know... well, you know, it kind of reminds me of 'homely' and it would be disgraceful for a beauty such as myself to feel homely, so I definately don't feel that... it also kind of reminds me of 'Dustin'. No, on second thought I don't feel chumly.
Music: 'what are you waiting for' - Gwen Stefani

Anyways. I hope each and every one of you took a moment of silence for my fish. I would like to say that he died peacefully but I'm pretty sure whatever it was had been eating at him for weeks, because bubbles were coming out of his gills when they weren't really supposed to and it looked like it was hurting him to eat, so he just kind of... stopped eating... and starved to death.
...But at least he died in clean water.

Moving on!

Today was early dismissal, and I only had morning classes on account of there were English confrences and so I was done school at 10:15! w00t w00t!! And so! I... went downtown and did some SECRET SANTA shopping! And OMG! I found the best present EVER! Seriously. I won't say what it is, should my person happen upon this blog and consequently ruin Christmas for themselves, but I will say that it's a goregeous piece of jewelery and I WANT IT and I'm going to go and get me one JUST LIKE IT because I'm so IN LOVE with it... ohh, my friends are so lucky when I happen to have mounds of cash (read: $20) at my disposal. Sometimes I think I spoil them...
Then I went to the health food store for some ice cream - quite the contradiction, I know, but it's organic which makes it the best ice cream in the world. Actually, no. It's so friggin good which makes it the best ice cream in the world. (Mapleton's -- they didn't have raspberry which is my fave so I got chocolate chip... MMMMM all mine! Hahaha!)
After that I came home and made a glorius lunch for my brother complete with mini pizzas and a fine gourmet salad which he made fun of me for... ("What is THAT! Are you on crack?? Are you on LSD???") It had lettuce and tomatoes (NOT cheap, my friend!) and cheese on it, with those cool mini oranges on the side and it looked remotely like this. ...So what if I like to garnish things!!! I'm having fun!! Geez...

Gah! Got to go... annual christmas tree set-up shenanagans afoot... my family needs me.

Toodles.

The Death of Saint Valentine

Mood: happy (but also a little bit sad)
Music: 'sexy boy' - air

Please bow your head in a moment of silence for Saint Valentine, my beloved betta fish who passed away lastnight.

.
.
.
.
.

Valintine was a happy fish, know as "Tiny" or "Valentino" to his friends (me). He was always the easygoing one who loved to make bubble nests and playfully flutter his fins in lovely flashes of red, blue and white. Valentine will be fondly remembered and missed by all.

Valentine

January 2003 - December 2004

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zap! II

Mood: Grrr! Angry! *HULK SMASH!*
Music: B.J. Thomas - Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head (my new favorite song!!) (heh heh..."B.J."...)

Okay. Mrs. Seibert is out to see me fail. And I don't like it. She is determined to give me a 41% on a project I earned 83% on. Her reasoning? Allow me to explain.

(Besides the fact that she is on crack) Mrs. Seibert has worked out something that has come to be known as the infamous checkmark system. How it works, is you get a checkmark for every day you are seen working on your project in class (stretching canvases don't count as working on your project, by the way, and I fail to see how they don't because where I come from canvases don't stretch themselves...). To be marked out of 100, you need to have aquired three checkmarks.
Granted, on this particular project I only aquired two checkmarks, on account of on one of the studio days I was off on a trip for English. A trip that I only went on because Mrs Seibert had double-booked me for another trip on the same day my English trip was supposed to be on, and since I cannot be in two places at once, I went with a different class to the University and consequently had less time to work on my project than everyone else in my class.

Which brings me to my first point of vindication: Since my field trip was arranged at the last minute and on special purposes that Mrs. Seibert herself had a hand in, I feel that I should be pardoned of the missing checkmark because missing class on a studio day was beyond my control.

That said, it should be noted that there are students in my class with special arrangements with Mrs. Seibert which allow them to do their work completely at home and update her on the progress of their paintings via digital photography. Now, these arrangements are specially for people working on very large canvases and I understand why it would be unnecessary to apply the same conditions to someone working on a 13"x19" watercolour piece, but:

On account of there are special circumstances surrounding my missing class on the studio Monday, I believe an exception should be made in my case and I should be given a checkmark if I produce pictures of my project that were taken on Monday evening. Which I have. Readily available. ...For justice!!

Either way you chose to look at it, in all fairness I should be given the checkmark because I did a pretty darn good job on my project, and to rob me of the mark that I earned would be sheer wenchism on the part of Mrs. Seibert. I think she just wants me to fail. Allow me to explain.

I have collected two out of the desired three checkmarks. Let me re-write that. 2/3. As in two thirds. ...She sabotaged my mark by 50%. Since when has two thirds meant 50%??!?!? Now, she's no math teacher and I, quite frankly, am no math student, but I'm enough of one to know that 50% means half a pizza, and two out of three checkmarks means two thirds of a pizza, which just so happens to be bigger than half a friggin' pizza!!!!! (By 16.666666% to be precice.) So, if she is going to insist on riding her high horse of tight-assery and rob me of my hard-earned 83% even though it is clear to any compassionate being that it isn't fair, than at least she could do it properly and give me what would come out to be a disgraceful, unwarranted 55%.

(And even if she were to divide 83 by 50% it would come out to 41.5, which rounded to the nearest whole would give you 42. But we're not going to dwell on that, because 42 is lower than 55 and alot lower than 83.)

Another infraction that I shal point out is not only did she get the wrong answer, but she wrote the wrong equation. On my paper it says:

66.5/80 = 83% x 50 = 41%

ERRR! Wrong! 83 x 50 is not 41. It is 4150 (which is fine by me, really). 83 x .50 is 41.5

...Insufferable woman.

GAH!!!