Lotta Stuff to Say - Stupid Accent, Stupid Forms

Hello.

It's me again.

First things first. So I know you're all waiting to see what happened.

Well I won the speech competition, which was very surprising, because anyone I know will tell you I can waffle on for ages about nothing in particular, and I had to speak about an old person topic, Justice, in my British accent, which I used to like, but now I hate, because at the competition all the judges were looking at me like, "Whaaaat?" Who IS this person? The Queen? Because no no one else could have such a stupid Britishfully British accent.

Gah. Whoever wants to adopt Bobby, my accent, is free to do so. Maybe then I can pronounce my t's. You know, then maybe I'll say ten thirty, instead of ten thir'y. But anyway, the point is I won, which still puzzles me, because I thought they didn't understand a word I said. I spoke really fast, you see, and when I do that Bobby becomes more obvious. But maybe that's WHY I won, because then they didn't have to listen to the really boring speech I prepared.

It's all cool, either way.

So about the competition - you know my ticket to Broadway, the chance to showcase our singing talents - it didn't work out.

Why?

Were we eliminated because someone sabotaged our chances like Tess did to Mitchie in Camp Rock? (I ONLY WATCHED IT BECAUSE THERE WERE FLIPPING ADS EVERY FIVE MINUTES AND I WANTED TO SEE WHAT WAS SO GOOD ABOUT IT. I HATED IT, AS A MATTER OF FACT. AND I THINK THE JO BROS ARE GAY.) Anyway, no.

Were we eliminated because we were awesome and the judges thought it was unfair to the other sad dweebs? Sadly, no. Although we totally should have.

The answer is......

I lost the form.

Yeah.

Fatty and Lyn were pretty mad at me for that - you know, there went Suerte Que (lucky in Spanish, if you don't remember) winning the competition. In fact, I think they wanted to change their names from Suerte Que to Gkxzkopaieroklklcvko which is Spanish for "Let's kill Random Awesome NOW, in a very horrible manner, because she lost the form and now we'll never be Broadway stars, and it doesn't matter if she dies because two of us can sing Total Eclipse of the Heart no problem and she's going downdowndown."

So they cornered me, and I had to fight them off with only the promise of ice-cream, and for a moment I thought they were so mad they didn't care, which was scary, because who kills someone who buys them ice-cream?, but eventually they relented and we ate ice-cream together.

Maybe next year for Suerte Que, hey?

So I'd like to end this post thanking the judges, for letting me win, for cursing Disney Channel, for showing the Camp Rock ads so much I was brainwashed into watching it, and to worship the God of Ice-Cream, who practically saved my life.

Also, a big HI to my friends Marsh and Naddo. I miss you guys every day!

R.A.

Upd8s

Hey, people. Yeah, I'm alive.I know I haven't blogged for a long, LONG time, but that was mainly cuz there WAS nothing to blog about.However, it's been - what? two months? - a long time, anyway, since I last blogged, and I DO have news now. Let's see....


1. I went to the mall with my friend Michelle for her birthday. The thing itself wasn't that fun - her other friends and cousins came along too, so things were a little, well, strained - but the lunch and the movie (Iron Man 2) were great. My God, I love Robert Downey Jr.
I took some pictures of me and my friends, but sadly I failed to upload them. (STUPID, STUPID COMPUTER!) So, sadly, I'm sadly uploading some sadly old photos of me and my friends.

The one in the middle is Nicole, the one on the left is me, and the one on the right is Lyn. Yes, we are making a cheesy arm heart.

Don't we look cute? Good times.

2. I have been forced into a public speaking contest. Where I am supposed to be talking about justice. JUSTICE. An old person's topic. I don't mind talking about justice through a teenage girl's point of view, like how it's an injustice that the aforementioned Michelle has such gorgeous toned legs (Due to her being an ice-skater). But these people expect me to talk about REAL justice, the dinosaur justice. Jeez. Now THAT'S an injustice.


3. I am joining the talent show where I will be... singing.


Jezum, guys, I'm not that bad. It's just that I've never sung to an audience before. In the shower, sure, but... Nervous would be an understatement. But the truth is... My secret ambition is to be a Broadway star. (Oh, shut up!) And how can I be one if I don't sing live?


For you overly curious freaks, I will be singing Glee's "Total Eclipse of the Heart," a very tricky little number with a few high notes in it. Me and mah friends Lyn and Fatty, that is. Together we've formed a cheesy little band named, "Suerte Que," which means lucky in Spanish.

And lucky we'll have to be, to win this thing.

I'm sure my friends from forever ago, Marsh and Naddo are gobsmacked. Me, little old Random Awesome? SINGING?

That's right. I'm a singing, swimming cheerleader.

Gosh, I've changed.

Remember the days when I was just a short little nerd? Sigh.

Ah, well. Tune in next time to hear more about ME!

Signing out,

The swimming, singing, wannabe Broadway star cheerleader

The Nine-Lived Human, The Line from Casablanca and Freaking Out the Janitor

Long time, no blog, I know. The thing was, my life has been pretty empty lately. But now I have something NEW to blog about.

Ready? Here goes...

Right, for a start, forget about nine-lived cats and phoenixes rising from the ashes to live again. Because I have survived everything those things have, and with one life too.

Damn, I'm randomly awesome.

What, you ask yourself, am I talking about?

I'm talking about dealing with the forces of evil. The Darth Vaders of this world. The Voldemorts.

I am speaking, of course, of dealing with Larry's girlfriends.

Still doesn't make sense? Let's go back two days earlier...


TWO DAYS EARLIER.

*Of course, in dialogue, I use Larry's real name. Duh. He uses mine, and I'll replace it with... Peanut Butter. I'll call his (current) girlfriend... Alice. All set? Okay.

Wow, I felt like a duck.

Not that I hate ducks or anything. I actually quite liked them. I mean, they're cute. I just meant, sitting here, next to these two people, I felt like a duck between two swans.

Freeze-frame this moment and you might start to see why...

Larry: Black T-shirt with 'Bite Me' on it, torn jeans. Black hair. Lightly tanned skin. Brown eyes. Sneakers.

Alice: Reddish brown hair, falling in perfect waves past her shoulders. Hazel eyes (contacts. No one could have eyes that pretty naturally.) White T-shirt with big orange and red flowers on it. Sleek black trousers. Sandals.

Me: Brown hair, tangled and messy on account of me not being able to find the comb. Baggy green pants with red flowers twisting up one leg. Brown T-shirt with dumb, fluffy pink and blue and green feathers on it. Flowered flipflops.

Janitor: Blue overalls. (Sorry, I kinda have a thing for janitors.)

"So," Larry said, when we were done maneouvering our knees under the tiny cafe table. "Alice, Peanut Butter, Peanut Butter, Alice."

I nodded weakly at the other girl, mentally bracing myself for the onslaught that was sure to come. She smiled blindingly back at me.

Larry got up. "I'm just gonna get us some drinks, kay?" He winked at me and jerked his head at her, a move which presumably meant, 'Get along with her, okay?'

When he was gone, I groaned mentally and looked her in the eye. "So... Nice T-shirt."

She looked straight back at me. "Are you one of Larry's exes?"

"No! No, I'm just his friend."

"Just?"

"Yeah. Also his babysitter. I mean, you should've seen the things he got up to when we were kids!" She raised an eyebrow. I slumped back. "Or...not."

She hesitated. "Have you ever been anything... more?"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Alice actually seemed... insecure. All of Larry's previous gf's were either bitchy to me, or engaged me in cat conversation: sheathed claws and purred insults, if you know what I mean.

"No."

She visibly relaxed. I mean, relaxing - that was new. I already kinda liked her, although she could probably gouge my eyes out with those painted nails. So I did something I had never done before.

"You should stay away from Larry."

She glanced at me, challenging. "Why?"

"Because... he's a womaniser. You should know that by now. He's gone out with practically every girl in his school."

"I know," she replied sadly, tilting her head, sending waves of reddish hair flowing over one shoulder. When I tilted my head, it looked like I had a crick.

I blinked. "Um... And you still wanna go out with him?"

"Yes. I'm hoping one day I can convert him. He's nice, and I really like him."

"He is," I agreed, before realising this was getting WAY too uncomfortable for both of us. I cleared my throat. "But somehow I doubt he's going to change. He's probably gonna grow up to be like Barney from How I Met Your Mother."

An incredible thing happened then. Alice threw her head back and laughed. LAUGHED! And in a nice way too, not mean or bitchy.

Larry came back then, with some glasses of Coke. He sat the tray down and twirled one straw in his fingers like a cigar. "Well, girls," he growled like that guy from Casablanca, "This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Could be," Alice grinned at him. He smiled back. And despite the earlier feeling of warmth between us two girls, I couldn't help facing the fact that she was with him. I had no one to smile to.

Except of course, the janitor. So I did.

And he freaked, looking at me weird before moving away.

I am a sad person.

A Beautiful PAIN-ting

What's light blue and hazy green and rosy pink and bright red and deep purple, all swirled into one?

Is it:

A) The Northern Lights?

B) My tie-dye shirt?

The answer is neither. If I ask you a question and give you multiple choice answers, you will never get it right because I will always add another answer, that is to say,

C) My bruises on my knees, from failing my Sex and The City audition.

Okay, not literally.

But have you seen that show? Sarah Jessica Parker in it, she wears flippin' four-inch high heels and runs along the street trying to hail a taxi. I swear, her feet must be genetically fused into those things, the way she runs with them so naturally.

So, being the idiot-stupid-dumbo-airhead-and basically all the bad names I called myself when I got my bruises, I decided, hey! Why don't I try that?

Why not, indeed.

So I got myself into some high heels. Walked around, for a while, enjoying my extra four inches. (When you're only four feet and a bit, that's a BIG deal. Geddit? Big?)

Then I decided to run.

BAM, slip, fall on both knees, and somehow on the left side of my butt at the same time. I don't even know HOW that's possible. I have bones, you know, and yet my butt managed to suddenly become flexible and hit the floor.

Nice.

So I hobbled back inside and decided to lick my wounds. I figured they'd be purple, like usual.

But maybe having an extra four inches when you fall does something to your blood vessels, because now they're all pink and green and blue too.

Weirdly beautiful, actually.

So nice I actually made a painting of my bruises. A PAIN-ting.

And if you don't think THAT's a weird sentence, maybe you should read it again.

And the worst part? My sister walked in on me peering at my knees and painting.

Oh, sure, let's just make fun at your sister when she's fallen on both her knees and the left side of her butt at the SAME time.

Scientifically, bruises sound a lot worse.

I mean, instead of just saying, "My knees and butt are bruised," scientists say stuff like, "My capillaries and venules have been traumatised, allowing blood to spread into the extracellular space. Did I mention that they are on the kneeus leggus* and on the left side of my buttus?"

Actually, I think I wanna try talking like that. Sounds fun.

Later,

A beautifully bruised Random Awesome



*Of course, I don't know what the PROPER latin name for knee is, but it sure is fun saying it!

A Punch in the Stomach

Random Awesome, that's me.

Am I tough? I once ate a whole chocolate bar in twenty seconds.

Am I hardcore? I laugh at Puck from Glee.

Am I strong? I watched My Sister's Keeper without shedding a tear.

Did seven random words from a complete stranger make me feel like I'd been punched in the stomach?

HELL, YEAH.

Here's how it happened.

The exams were last week, so everyone was running around saying, "I bombed that last history test SO badly," and "I'm going to die."

Nothing new there.

So I was walking along the corridors, when this girl barges past me, yelling, "AWESOME! I'll go tell my best friend!"

Whoof.

That was the sound of the breath leaving my body all at once. And no, I was not the Big Bad Wolf blowing down the piggie's house.

It was just that I realized that I didn't have a best friend anymore.

They used to be Marsh and Naddo and Larry, but they were all gone now. (Oops. I think I forgot to mention that Larry left school. We still keep in touch though).

I mean, sure, you can give all that crap about being friends forever, and long-distance friendships, but in the end, give 'em three years and they won't remember your name. They'll have new best friends. New classes. New teachers. New habits. A freaking new life.

So in Science I drew up a list of possible best friends. (And I was still totally paying attention, mind you).

• Marsh. (She moved away to Qatar. Nope.)
• Naddo. (Ditto).
• Larry (Yep).
• Logan Lerman (He doesn't even know I exist.)
• Angelina Jolie (Why the hell did I even put her name?)
• My cats, Ben and Jamie (I love them... but they're freakin' cats).
• Inanimate objects (they seem the most likely now.)
  
• My English teacher. And this shows just how desperate I was for a friend. Although, to be fair, she IS quite nice. And I know Ryan Seacrest.
  

It was hopeless.

Sorry, that came out wrong.

It still IS hopeless.

Anyone out there who wants to be my friend, drop me a line. If you aren't interested, then can you at least:

• Get me Logan Lerman's phone number.
• Get me a ticket to Qatar.
• Sneak me into Angelina Jolie's brood and kick one out, like maybe Shiloh. I could totally be the next Shiloh.
• Get me to talk to cats.
• Stop me from becoming totally insane, NOW.
  

Random Awesome

Just Your Average Picnic in An Abandoned House with A Stray Cat for Company

Agent R.A, signing in.

Today's mission? Sneak into abandoned, possibly haunted house, and have a picnic, of all things.

Dressed in: A black shirt, black pants, and a dark blue windbreaker. Not because it was cold, or anything - actually it was pretty warm - but because I felt that it was more... sneaky-ish. Slippers. Backpack.

Backpack filled with:

• Bag of roast nuts, 1
• Bottle of water, 1
• Bar of chocolate, 1
• Handful of fish crackers for Mango
• Flashlight, 1
• Butter knife, 1
  
• NO anti-zombie-ant spray, sadly

(Oh, wait. I guess I should explain the butter knife thing. It's like this. Being 30 kilos and scrawny, I figured that for any kidnapper lying in wait, I was easy pickings. So it was time to use brains over brawn. My Butter Knife Theory worked roughly like this: Some guy tries to kidnap me. I whip out my butter knife. He laughs, and says, "You gonna spread me with butter, kid?" I answer, "Yeah, the butter tin's behind ya!" He turns. I run. I am smart.)

I was ready to hit the road, folks. Of course, I still had no defence against ghosts but Mango. The cat was so hideous I figured he would scare any ghost we met. Either that, or he was so hideous the ghosts would want him to join them. Either way, I was cool.

I picked up Mango along the way and slipped inside.

It was exactly the same as it was last week: quiet, dusty and empty, except for where - oops - I had left dirty footprints. Oh well. Zombie ants wouldn't mind.

Okay, I thought, you can do this. Conquer your fear.

Turns out, big surprise, that I couldn't.

Y'see, I had envisioned me boldly sitting in the middle of the house, eating my picnic with bravado and pride, unafraid of anything.

The reality? I was hunched near the door, my foot firmly in the crack. What if the door blew shut? I would be trapped. Chocolate and nuts wouldn't get me very far. Then my only source of food would be Mango, and truthfully, I'd put my money on the cat.

I hastily stuffed my chocolate and nuts in my mouth, swallowed almost without chewing, tossed Mango the fish crackers and fled.

So the important thing is, I tried. I really did. I tried conquering my fear.

Tried being the operative word, of course.

Later,

Random Awesome