If I Ever Leave This World Alive -Flogging Molly

This song is so mellow and my irritated mood is fighting against the music. I feel like turning on something angrier, but I guess I'm stuck with this one. I always match the music I listen to to the mood I'm in.
I'm irritated because I made the fascinating discovery that Wal-Mart has some sort of vendetta against me. They always quit stocking products I absolutely love. It all started a year ago with Mrs. T's Potato and Cheddar Cheese Pierogies. Wow, I miss those. Pockets of sheer delight. Now they quit stocking Ban solid deoderant and Simply Ivory body wash. I'm especially ticked about Ban because it's the only deoderant that has ever worked for me. Now I have to use Degree which by the end of the day leaves my pits smelling like a sweaty flower that someone buried in a litter box. Okay, maybe it's not that bad. But it's no Ban. Ban is like a little layer of heaven under my armpits.
One of my cats is giving me love bites on my arm. They really hurt, but I can't tell her to stop because they're out of love. I'd be rejecting her love. And that's just mean. I'm a cat freak.
During the softer parts of this song, I get distracted because I can hear my friends' "raid talk". They're playing WoW....again. I really want to play Star Wars Battle Front II. Right now.
The one thing I hate about writing is that the reader can't hear vocal tones or inflections. Those make it so much better.
I need to find a new roommate. Why does everybody I room with move in with their boyfriend? I think it's because I'm not wearing Ban.

6 words

1. Made mistakes. Made even more mistakes.
2. I'm a female Rip Van Winkle.
3. Fell in love. Fleeing was easier.
4. Heaven bound. Hell bent. Change lives.
5. I play video games too much.
6. On occasion, I forget to breathe.

9/11

Study Hall was incredibly boring. I had the meanest teacher on the planet. Her name was Mrs. Ashmore, but mostly everybody called her Mrs. Ass-more. For the first 30 minutes of the hour and a half class, we were forced to have silent reading time. Something I hadn't had to do since third grade. For the remainder of the hour, we were to do homework. Telling her you didn't have any homework was the dumbest thing you could do. Simply because she would respond with, "Well if your teachers aren't giving you enough homework, then I'll have to give you some. And it's due by the end of the hour." As the fates would have it, she was a math teacher, which made the extra work even more excruciating.
September 11th, 2001. I headed into Study Hall, dreading the next hour and a half. The first 30 minutes slowly and painfully went by. Then, snapping me from my daydreams, a ruckus was occuring in the hallway. Intolerant of any distractions, Mrs. Ashmore went to see who was disturbing her class. Before she made it to the door, a student entered. As he stood in the doorway, he spoke to us all, "The World Trade Centers have just been hit by planes! It's on TV." "Young man, get back to your class!" Mrs. Ashmore snapped. He left. He knew this teacher's reputation. Our classroom began to buzz. SLAM! Mrs. Ashmore was glaring at us as she shut the door with force. "This is Study Hall. So if you don't have anything to study then come see me. And no more talking!" She strided back to her desk and sat with a watchful eye. And that was it. That was my experience of one of America's greatest tragedies. Sitting in Study Hall unable to speak. Of course I watched the news and was very quickly updated when I got home that afternoon. But I'll never quite forgive that teacher for removing me from such a pivotal moment in history.

Lobster Tickling (spring break)

Not attaching a snorkel was a bad idea. After the first few dives, I was completely exhausted. I flippered my way back to the boat. My dad could tell I was drained. "Want a vest?" he offered. "No. Just a snorkel please!" I replied. He tossed me a bright blue snorkel and I quickly attached it to my goggles. Relief at least. Now able to breathe, I focused on the task at hand. Catching tonight's dinner. I swam over to Wendy, my tag team partner. It takes two people to catch lobsters. One to tickle and one to grab. She spotted a hole and waved me over. The ocean waves tried to direct me elsewhere but I managed to get where I needed to be. I gave Wendy the signal. Armed with my tickler, I dove under. I poked the long metal stick into the hole. I felt the first lobster. Using the angled end of the tickler, I tapped the lobster on its tail. Wondering what just hit it, the lobster meandered out of its home. Before realizing the trap, Wendy made her move. She grabbed him. We both swam to the surface. Using the measuring utensil on the tickler, I made sure the lobster was legal. From between eyes to the back of the head, the measurer fit perfectly. Just barely legal. We both paddled over to the boat, lobster in tow. Wendy placed our dinner into the boat's compartment for such things as lobsters, crab, and fish. Back to the sea we went. After raiding some traps, which is illegal, we headed home with four lobsters total. Not a bad haul for this late into the season.