Hunger Games Opinions

I just finished reading the Hunger Games because I succumbed to peer pressure. Everybody has been talking about it, everybody has been reading it, and everybody can't wait to see the movie. Here are some of my thoughts on the book. Be warned, it contains revealing details, so if you haven't read it yet and don't want me to ruin anything for you, then go just X out of this right now.

I didn't read this book with the intention of being critical; it just sort of happened. I am a reader and I think that even a futuristic novel needs to be believable. I'm not just going to accept everything the author writes and pretend like none of it was stupid.

Before I spout my opinions, I will commend the author on some points.
1) The Hunger Games warrants being published and read, unlike some books I've had the misfortune of meeting. I don't think back on the six hours of my life and think "Man, that was a waste of time." It wasn't a crap book.

2) Unrequited love always makes for a good story line. So go Suzanne Collins for creating Peeta's character.

3) The Hunger Games is basically a personal account of a reality TV star's experience in a horrific version of Survivor. Kudos to Collins for thinking this up. America is obsessed with reality TV, and the narrative of a young girl who does not want to be on the show is gripping.

Now on to the problems I had with the book:

Tracker jackers, really? That's the name you are going to give those deadly, determined wasps? When I read tracker jacker, my mind immediately changes it to Cracker Jacker, which leads to Cracker Jacks. So while I am supposed to be really afraid of these terrifying wasps, what I'm really doing is thinking about eating Cracker Jacks and shaking the box upside down looking for the prize. Couldn't they just have been called tracker wasps?

Those character names. Not a single one of them was normal, except for Gale, who at first I thought was a female, because Gail is a girl name. I could actually handle Prim, because Primrose was the name of the main character in a Jerry Spinelli book. But Effie? Couldn't they have just named her Steffie? Because--I'll be honest--when I read Effie, I immediately thought "Oh Eff." As in a shortened, more acceptable use of a curse word. And Haymitch? At least the author was consistent, I'll give her that. She didn't have Linda and Sue running around with Cinna and Octavia (which just makes me think of Greek tragedies).

I understand that the book is supposed to be futuristic, and the many years between 2012 and whenever this takes place could leave a lot of room for popular names to change, but you know what names were used about 2,000 years ago? John. Luke. Jacob. Matthew. And look where we are now, still using them. So I am sorry if I have a really hard time with the masculine name of Gale, but I do.

That whole sponsor thing, with the tiny parachutes. Really? It seems totally unfair that some people can get delivered presents and others can't. But I guess the whole premise of the Hunger Games isn't fair. I have a hard time believing that there are hovercrafts around, just ready to drop down loaves of bread and pots of broth.

How many times have I read a book where there is a sleeping bag scene? You know, there is only ONE sleeping bag and a guy and a girl has to share it in order to survive the cold? It starts out a little awkward at first. "Should I or shouldn't I?" the character thinks. But then the two end up in the same bag keeping each other warm with their body heat, and they kind of like it and feel safe. This concept is way over done. You know how many times I have been out in the elements with just one sleeping bag and needed to share it with an attractive young man? Exactly zero times. And I've been camping a lot.

The whole "here, let me wash your wounds" scene. Happens ALL THE FREAKING TIME. In like, every movie that features a guy and girl in some sort of survival/battle setting. The two instances that come specifically to mind are when Kate had to sew up Jack on the first episode of Lost, and when Isolde had to nurse Tristan back to health in that little underground cave. Taking care of men, of course, requires that they take their shirts off. Usually there is a little blushing in these scenes. If the girl character gets lucky, she gets injured somehow and then the guy has to take care of her, and it's then that she realizes how tender and loving the man is, and how she just can't live without him.

Another part that was rather unbelievable to me was the grand entrance/interviews that the tributes had to do in the beginning. CBS's Survivor never starts off by showing the players enter in really fancy dresses and suits (they leave that up to ABC's The Bachelor, which I guess is just a more glamorous version of Survivor). The players don't go on some stage for a preliminary interview so that people can have more information in order to place bets. In my opinion, if people are going to some televised games to die, getting all dressed up and fancy seems out of place. This isn't a pageant, it's death.

The book started getting good when Katniss set out to find Peeta (because you know, after that is when the sleeping bag scene and the let-me-wash-your-wounds scene happened). But maybe I was just getting bored by lack of dialogue. I feel like dialogue really drives a book, and if there is no one for the main character to talk to, it gets boring. Because then all she's doing is eating groosling legs and hiding in trees. So I was really glad when Katniss teamed up with Peeta, but then some stupid stuff came with it. Like how Katniss "just knew" revving up the romance with Peeta is what Haymitch wanted. That whole angle was dumb. It seemed like a very forced way to foster a romantic relationship between characters, and to cause Katniss to question her feelings for both Gale and Peeta. I think the romantic relationship could have been developed just as well with having Peeta pull all the moves. Then, you know, when Katniss saves his life she realizes how much she cares about him. But of course if there hadn't been "an act" put on by Katniss, the ending wouldn't have been so heart wrenching for Peeta, who really does love her.

And oh my goodness those muttations at the end. First off, dumb name. You can call them mutations, or you can call them mutts, but Suzanne Collins, please don't name them muttations. It's almost as bad as tracker jackers. I wish she would have left those ridiculous creatures out of the ending. Really? It's the dead tributes come back in another bodily form to get revenge? And they have the human's eyes? They can stand up on their hind legs and wave to each other? The author should have just included a pack of rabid wolves. They would have done the job just as well, without me thinking it was moronic.

So yes, I am full of criticisms. Did I spend a considerable amount on my couch yesterday thinking "I must finish this book TONIGHT"? Yes. Am I going to go see the movie? Yes. Was this novel better than Twilight? Yes. Would I give it an award? No.

Must Read

I've got to read these books. Don't spoil it for me by telling me anything about them. On my list:

1.The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
2. The Hunger Games by some author I don't know but everybody is talking about how great the book is and apparently there is a movie coming as well.
3. I've Got Your Number by Sophie Kinsella
4. Twilight Breaking Dawn. Bahahha. JK. Sorry if you don't find that funny. I found out all I need to know on Wikipedia. Saved me about 7 hours and a lot of annoyance.

So Fine

Quite obviously today is Valentine's Day. Maybe you were expecting some sort of lovey-dovey post, and I would have liked to have written you a love story, but I don't have any. So instead I'm going to tell you a bit about one of my biggest loves: the public library.

I hope you love this mushy picture so much that you print it off and hang it on your computer monitor.

The public library is a bit like a boyfriend in the sense that every time I go there, I feel like I am cuddled up in arms. The pages hold me. However, there is one bad aspect to the library. You know how you might borrow your boyfriend's sweatshirt for a while? And then he's just thankful when he gets it back? Well, I'm sorry to say this, but the library charges you for returning borrowed items late. They're called library fines.

The library system that I belong to lets your fines get up to five dollars before they don't let you check out anymore. After that, you have to pay up or move states.

Here's how I sort of get out of paying library fines and still get to check things out. I turn my overdue books in right before I check out, then when they ask me if I've returned anything today (because they know I have late material), I say yes. But they haven't scanned the books in yet, so it doesn't get charged to me until the next time I go to the library. The bad part is you cannot even place holds if you owe more than 5 bucks.

Last Saturday I returned about four audio-books three days late, and I got charged a dollar for each of them. So now my library fines are $8.35 Quite obviously, I need to get this debt under control. I am planning a trip to the library this coming Thursday (I have 17 books due and I've already renewed them once). If I want to check out anything, I'll have to cough up the cash to get my fines down to $4.99. The library's really funny that way. Once (okay, I lie, many times), I had my fine at $5, so I hand over a paper dollar, and you know what the lady in glasses says? "Do you want to apply the whole dollar?" Like it's a big burden on me financially. Because really, I could pay two cents and be good. I smile at her and say "yes, use all of it," like I've been saving up for years for a down payment on a house.

Basically, the bad part about my love for the library is that it charges me sometimes. I had been debt free for years and years, always returning my books on time. Just about everything I've been fined on was a book that I used in my classroom, left there, and forgot about it. It's easy to forget about your public library books when there are already so very many books in the room.

 So there you have it. The library is my love. And it gives me much more than it takes.

The Book Thief

Right now I'm reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I've had it checked out for a while, and I must finish reading it by December 22nd if I don't want to add to my library fines. It's one of those books you have to read slowly because there are so many good sentences on each page to savor. What else can I tell you about it? Well, it was a 2007 Michael Printz honor book, it's narrated by death, and it's set in Nazi Germany. My favorite quote so far is this:

The book thief was without words. 

Trust me though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.

If People Were Rain

Author John Green shared this link to some images people have created in connection to a quote of his from the book Looking For Alaska (which I recommend reading, despite its controversy in public schools). Here are some of my faves:

 

 

The Sun Used to Shine

There used to be a bright side to teaching, but it is currently under an eclipse. Let me tell you about when rays of sun used to beam in room C6. You know, despite the fact that our classroom has no windows.

I know that my kids last year loved me and still love me, and they know that I thought they were special. I get about three old students (now 5th graders) popping into my room in the morning, or saying hi to me after school, or giving me hugs during recess drop-off. It was mostly the girls, but Tyler is faithful to me after school every day, and three of my favorite boys visited in the morning on Tuesday. I hear from the 5th grade teachers how it is so weird that these kids are so good, and I like to think they are talking about the kids that were in my class.

What I enjoyed the most about my class from last year was that they left me loving Jerry Spinelli as much as I do. You mention Jerry Spinelli to any one of my old kids, and I guarantee their eyes will light up. After our second Jerry Spinelli book, I remember TJ saying "I think Jerry Spinelli is one of the most genius authors of our time." This comment, from the 10 year old kid who loves football. We laughed over Fourth Grade Rats. We cried over Eggs. Our futures were changed during The Library Card. And all three of those things happened during Maniac Magee. Then there was Steven, who was a high level reader and had the privilege of reading Wringer independently.

Those were the moments that I have to hold on to, in hopes that they will happen again.

Thank you so much to the people who have sent me encouraging messages. It's nice to hear those things from someone besides my mom. I was happily surprised on Wednesday. And maybe I was a bit pathetic and teared up slightly.

Weekend Recovery??

The weekend is a really great time to drown out the horrible reality of my life. So what I did was on Friday night I watched an episode of Covert Affairs on Hulu, and then I watched the pilot of Nikita (of which I will devote an entire post to soon, like maybe Monday or Tuesday). And while staring at my computer screen, I rapidly put peanut butter M&Ms in my mouth. They are my Jack Daniels. I also searched various websites for job openings, and found ducklings for sale on Craigslist. Then I went to bed at 9:15.

On Saturday I did two really great things for myself, to help get my life back on track. The first thing I did was put away the mound of clothes that I had worn in the past two weeks. Plus I did laundry. The second good thing I did for myself was actually brush my hair. I was about to jump in the shower, and was like "hmmm, maybe I should comb through this mane before washing it." Only I don't have a comb or a brush, I have a pick. You know, like for afros. The teeth are very much spaced apart, kind of like in the mouths of people from select towns in Alabama. While combing through my hair with a large amount of difficulty, I started to realize something. I hadn't brushed my hair probably in four days. Because what I do is take showers at night, go to bed with wet hair that I don't comb, wake up, and fix the curls. I didn't wear my hair straight one day last week, because it is a lot of work. So there I am, pulling through my strands, losing enough hair to make a wig, thinking this is not so good. But don't worry too much, because I still have enough hair for the both of us.

Then later on Saturday I went to the Oktoberfest with my sister in the pouring rain, but we were ready for it in ponchos, galoshes, and umbrellas. Okay, so actually just a light jacket, we're Oregonians. When I got home from eating deep fried mushrooms and strawberry shortcake (which comforts the soul), I did something that is not so great. I watched Teen Mom on MTV.

The thing about watching Teen Mom is, it really cheered me up. Because I don't have a step-father named Butch who has a mullet and is also my boyfriend's father, and I don't have a baby, and I'm not living in a ghetto apartment. Plus, I fully have my high school diploma. So watching Teen Mom really makes a person feel better about their crappy life.

After watching MTV and finishing off the large bag of peanut butter M&Ms, I finished reading my overdue library book. I'm not even going to tell you the title of it, because it was about a girl who had her brain swapped with a super model, so now she's living in this really hot body. Only her employer is trying to murder her, and the actual super model wants her body back, and the girl has a computer hacker boyfriend who wears fingerless leather gloves. Which is enough to make me say, "hey girl, maybe this guy is a bit sketch." But I probably shouldn't be so judgmental of people's clothes because he ended up saving her life three times. At any rate, you probably don't want to read it, and the only reason I did was because it was the last in a series (yep, I read more of them prior), and it was written by one of my favorite authors.

On Sunday I went to church and then spent four hours in my dungeon-like classroom. Which brings us to now. Now I am sitting in front of my computer about to hate life all over again, because tomorrow is Monday and I'll have to go back to work.

Hope you're doing better.

Things You Forget

Sometimes forgetting your wallet is a lot like forgetting your address. You know where it is but can't get to it right now. Yesterday, on my way to the gym, I figured I'd stop at Borders to pick up a new journal, and I'd go to Bi-Mart too, since it's next door.

I had this super saver coupon for Borders, and actually wanted to stop on Tuesday, but then I remembered I also had a gift card left at home, so I waited. Thursday rolls around, like a marble in the dirt, and I make sure my coupon and gift card are in my purse before taking off.

Then I get to Bi-Mart. I never go to Bi-Mart. I haven't gone there for at least a year and a half, ever since I moved towns. But I still have my Bi-Mart card. A Bi-Mart card is like a Gold Circle Club card, only it allows you access to flannel and discounted cans of cashews. Regardless, you need it to get in.

There I am, in the parking lot, rifling through my purse looking for my wallet so that I can pull out my flimsy plastic yellow card to flash at the employee standing at the door, who will then let me swirl myself through the rotating metal gate. I swear these particular Bi-Mart employees are exactly like bouncers at some hot Hollywood club, only they are lacking in biceps and wear red cotton vests. Or is it blue? It's been so long I don't remember.

Only thing is, I can't find my wallet. So I figure, it probably fell out in the car. So I walk back to my car, look around, and find nothing but a used paper cup. It's then that I remember that I left my wallet in my book bag, which I toted around at a three day conference earlier in the week. My initial reaction is to drive home immediately to get my wallet, because no wallet means no driver's license, and that is breaking the rules. Logic hits and I realize that the only other place I am going is the gym, and I will go home straight after that anyway. So whatev.

But I still want to go to Borders. Luckily, my gift card has just been sloppily thrown in to my purse, much like how a child puts away his toys. Though if I had thought to tuck the card into my wallet while at home, I probably wouldn't be in this predicament. I do some mental math and figure out how much I have left on the card. As long as I don't buy a journal worth more than eleven dollars, I'm good. Plus, I've got the coupon.

I walk inside. The AC hits me and it's like cold sheets on a hot summer night. The smell of a bookstore is much better than the smell of a library. While they both have that really excellent scent of thousands of pages, the bookstore boasts freshness. No water damage or boogers found in the middle of pages.

If I could write my own love story, I'd be perusing some new literature in a bookstore when some dark-haired, handsome, artistic-type notices the book cover and says something to me like "Oh, I read that while vacationing in Italy." And I'd ask him how he liked it (both the book and Italy) and he'd describe it all to me, and we'd get to talking, and there'd be so much to talk about that he'd ask me to coffee, and I'd say yes even though I hate coffee. But then I'd order tea and he would tell me how he plays the guitar and writes love songs for the girl he's never met, but of course now he's met me, so he can start using my name in them instead of just ambivalent descriptions. However, this will never happen to me because I'm always looking at the wrong sort of book covers in bookstores. Sophie Kinsella books rarely lend themself well to male interaction. But I digress.

There I am in Borders, looking for a journal. I find one I like shortly after, and start to do the math. One-hundred, minus the percent of my coupon, multiplied by the cost of the journal. Then what's twenty subtract eight thirty-eight? Do I have enough? It's that childhood memory of being in the drugstore, counting out your dimes and trying to figure out if you have enough money to buy the Silly Putty and the candy bar. I realize I'm twenty-three cents short. No problem, I think, I've got a coin purse. But then I don't. It's in my book bag at home, too. For a fleeting moment I think about asking strangers for quarters. But my pride and lack of confidence leads me back to my car, digging around in one of the compartments for loose change. While I'm out there, I decide to make a phone call to the Borders Gift Card Center to find out exactly how much is left on the card. With this verified information, I do some more math and realize I don't need the change anyway. But I put the coins in my pocket just to be safe.

I walk back in, find the journal again, get in line, and pray I haven't made some stupid miscalculation that will cause me embarrassment. Like maybe the coupon is only good for books with words in them, not blank journals. Or maybe my gift card is only good on Fridays. I approach the cashier. He has dark brown hair that needs to be cut. He smiles at me, and I think about asking him if he plays the guitar or has been to Italy.

I lay the coupon on the counter with the book, and he asks me "Do you have your Border's rewards card?" Because, oh shit, it's in my wallet. And you can't use the coupon unless you have your member card. Luckily for me, I drove here, which means I have my keys, which means I have my key chain, which means I have that little plastic thing on it, next to the one I swipe every time I go to the gym. Just last week I thought about taking the dumb thing off, because I don't shop at Border's that much, and I have a card in my wallet, and why would I go shopping without my wallet?

"I have this little guy," I say, as I dangle the baby card on my keys, much like how Michael Jackson might have suspended his infant out of a window, God rest his soul.

"That works," says the Border's employee. He does all of his scanning and I walk away with a new journal and fifteen cents left on my gift card. Which might be enough to buy a single tea bag, should my lover ever find me at Borders.

Neil Armstrong is my uncle

I am currently not reading Neil Armstrong Is My Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me by Nan Marino because it was so good I finished it already. It has 154 pages and took me approximately 5 hours. Which, you know, caused me to do some math to figure out my reading rate, and it took me basically 2 minutes per page. Which is slow. But then I figure I should account for how much I re-read because the language really caught my eye. When I'm reading a good book, I go fast at first but then I want to mull it over, so I slow down so the words can really sink in.

The books starts out like this:

Muscle Man McGinty is a squirrely runt, a lying snake, and a pitiful excuse for a ten-year-old. The problem is that no one on Ramble Street knows it but me. In the entire town of Massapequa Park, only I see him for what he really is. A phony. 


I got tricked at first into thinking the main character was a boy, because I just assumed that it would be. But she's not. She's a spunky tomboy who is the pitcher of the neighborhood kickball team, and who sneaks out at night to sit on top of the garage roof. She's full of snarky comments and during the whole of the book she's calling Muscle Man McGinty out on his bald faced lies.

Read it.

Currently Reading

Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko. It came out in 2004, so I guess I'm a bit slow jumping on the bandwagon, but whatever. It's a young adults book (like ages 12-15ish), but it's good. Super good. It's one part historical (set in 1935), one part fiction, three parts witty, one part serious, one part baseball. I mean, thus far. I'm only on chapter 12.

Here's the opening line. "Today I moved to a twelve-acre rock covered with cement, topped with bird turd and surrounded by water."

One of my favorite similes  is "I want to be here like I want poison oak on my private parts."

I don't know what I can say to convince you to read this book. It's a Newberry Honor book. It is fantastic. Five star rating.

Also, if you are in to TV, LOST is on tonight. As in, hot doctor Jack Shepherd, Dharma initiative crap, Sawyer if you like that kind of thing, smoke monsters, numbers, and time travel.

3 Things I Like (besides you)

Three things I am currently quite enjoying are:

1) My new phone. I got rid of my stupid Razor and got a Samsung Flight, which has a touch screen. It also has a full keyboard, which I much appreciate, because before it took me ten minutes to write a two sentence text message. Plus it is just better all around. It was also free when I renewed my contract. I've never bought a phone in my life, I just get what's free when you renew.

2) I got a new calendar for 50% off at the Craft Warehouse. I'm starting to frequent this store just as much as Target. My calendar is of cupcakes, adapted from the book Hello, Cupcake! My favorite month is September, because it has owl cupcakes. For the past six years I have bought a dollar calendar with island scenes from the Dollar Tree. I like the whole island thing because then I can imagine me going there, and not stuck in rainy Oregon.

3) I am currently reading Blink: the power of thinking without thinking by Malcolm Gladwell. I better hurry it up because it is due in two weeks and I haven't been reading that much since work has started again. But I'll make it.

He's no longer bald

I have spent the majority of this weekend on my backside trying to breathe, blowing snot out of my nose, and reading. Glamorous life I lead, I know. I read two complete books this weekend, starting both on Saturday. The Tales of Beedle the Bard, 111 pages, by J.K. Rowling, and Ransom My Heart, 396 pages by Meg Cabot. I know the last one sounds like a trashy romance novel, but I liked it so you can shove it.

Basically, it is set in 1291 England and this tomboyish maiden sets out to hold a man for ransom so she can get money to pay for the wedding of her pregnant sister. She has quite an attitude and the knight that she ends up kidnapping falls in love with her. There's a lot of sarcasm, arguments, and a murder, but it turns out fine in the end.

Something that is on my mind: do you know anyone who was close to baldness, but then you saw them again sometime later, and they had a full head of hair? Take my seventh grade science teacher, for example. Mr. Purtyman (I swear that's his real name) had a very much so receding hairline, but I saw him again in tenth grade at a grocery store buying radishes and he had a full head of hair. Makes you wonder what sort of experiment he was mixing in the lab. Mr. Purtyman is not the only near-bald man I know who has magically sprung some new follicles. I know of at least two other men who had very thin hair, and then surprised me later with their luscious locks. I really want to ask them what happened. Did they try Rogain or something? Or is it really an illusion and they have all those little magnetic bits clinging to their hair to make it look full, and every night before they go to sleep they have to get a magnet and take it all off and put it in a little jar for safekeeping?

Spring break starts in two weeks. However, before that I have to hold conferences with the parents of my delightful students. I am so terrified of one in particular, that I foresee myself getting so angry that I will have to walk out of the classroom. I have already imagined/day dreamt the whole thing. After walking out fuming, I either go outside and lean against the cold brick walls and cry, or I hide in the darkened supply closet. God help me.

The Library Card

Excellent book by Jerry Spinelli, by the way. I've been reading The Library Card to my kids and they love it. Plus, it gives them a clue to how much reading can impact your life. I've had the exact same library card since I was 8 years old. Surprisingly, I have not lost it. I have misplaced it many times, but never lost it. My third grade signature wore off years ago and I had to resign it in black sharpie. Now that one is wearing off, too.

I remember exactly what I was wearing the day I got my library card. It was a very important day, with no photographical evidence except for the image imprinted in my brain. I was wearing green jeans and this flower printed shirt that was made out of kind of an itchy fabric. It had pink, green, and yellow flowers on it, with three little buttons coming down the front. Additionally, I was wearing this incredibly stylish denim hat. You know, where the floppy part is pinned up in the front with this super cute purple flower? I had to wait in line forever to get my card, and there was this 12 year old girl in front of me. She was wearing a pink shirt. My mom filled out all the forms so I could get my card, and then I signed it. Totally official.

I went to the library today and was absolutely thrilled to discover that in the DVD section they have the first season of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman! The best pioneer show from my child hood, with the ever hot Sully. I am totally watching the first episode after I finish this blog. I also found that they have episodes of Party of Five. I never watched Party of Five when I was young, but Matthew Fox is part of the cast. I figured it would be entertaining to watch him when he was young. BTW, totally disappointed by his role in Vantage Point. I thought he'd have more of a leading role. I was wrong. And he ended up being a loser bad guy. I need to watch some episodes of LOST to make up for it.

Lately at the library I have been checking out lots of books on tape. I listen to them in the car during my ungodly long drives home from work, when I am stuck in five o'clock traffic until six o'clock. I discovered a long-cut shortened time route, though. It only took me ten minutes to get over the bridge instead of forty. It's a longer distance, but worth it. I get in the far right lane where nobody wants to be, go up by the mall, turn on a one way street, then go around a block and drive away from the bridge. Then I go down by Liberty Plaza and cruise up the bridge from the other side. But in case this route does not always prove time effective, I've got books to listen to. I think that's what I'm going to miss the most from where I am living now--my extremely close proximity to the library. I will most likely never again live so close to such a wonderful building.

Plastic Babies

Right now I am reading I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley. It is actually a book for adults this time, and it is quite hilarious and clever. I have to slow down to read it though, because the sentence structure is more complicated than those found in children's books, and new words that I don't know the meaning of pop up here and there. I recommend it though. It's a collection of short stories, but the book calls them "essays." Whatev. I like it.

I put up my kiddie pool on Wednesday and have been in it twice so far. I sometimes worry that the old people living in the retirement center across the fence will come out and stare at me. Kind of like how I peek through my blinds and spy on them when they are on the patio smoking.

I was at the county fair with my sister on Thursday and we were in a building where businesses have informational booths. You know, like the library and protecting watersheds, and how to keep your teenager off of meth. The good thing is that I picked up a lot of free magnents, pencils, stickers, and candy. Jess and I also had the chance to take a free plastic baby from the Right to Life foundation. They had some models of what a baby looks like at different stages displayed in a model uterus, which kind of grossed me out, but grossed my sister out more. I was all "see this is the uterine lining that sheds when you have your period," and she was all "that is sick I don't want to look at it." In the end, we did not take a plastic baby, because how weird would it be to have that in your purse? However, I contemplated taking one because I thought it would be funny to hide it in one of my roommates' bed. But then I thought that might be disrespectful to unborn infants and would give my roommate nightmares after she discovered a fetus with her toes while sleeping.