The Cone of Shame.

  Today, we went to the vet.
  Our pedigree 102.5 pound German Shepard stud dog now looks like:

    

I'll try to post pictures of the beast actually wearing it later, along with details of the operation!

How to Survive an Airplane, Part 1

  Airplanes are tough. They smell oddly, they're noisy, and you have the ever present nagging in the back of your mind going "at any moment the engines could shut down, and we could plummet into some horrible uncharted territory, and cannibals could eat our dead bodies".  Luckily for you, I have come up with a list of the worst possible airplane situations, and how to remedy them:
1: Noise

  

Noise on a plane stinks. You've got the engine noises, some weirdo next to you snoring and making odd sounds, rather like a dying squirrel, an annoying person yakking their head off about their son's girlfriend's sister's dog groomer's wife's home decor woes, a baby bawling behind you, and all you want to do is try to enjoy your flight. Some solutions are:

Music works fantastically. The only issues that can arise are people getting offended because you're not listening to them yammer on about people you'll never meet, or their toe fungus that you really didn't need to know about. Oh, and that weird rule about how you can't have any electronics going during take off. Is that because the pilot will pick up on whatever you're listening to?

2: Cramped, uncomfortable seating

   

Airplane seating is not for you if you suffer from claustrophobia, or have issues not fleeing when you sit next to someone who smells of Mexican food. So far, the only thing I have found to be effective is:

 

It's rather entertaining seeing 3 adults piling into one seat in a hasty attempt to not be bitten by the presumed rabid rat.

3: Airplane food rations

It really is a crime what they give out as snacks. You've been plane hopping all day without a chance to eat, and you have no loose money with you to buy a real meal, so you're super-duper-yay-happy-joy-time excited when the lady offers you complementary crackers. You tear into the brightly colored package decorated with smiling flight attendants gleefully, listening to the satisfying crinkle as you rip the top seam. You reach into the bag to feel the spoils- and come up with 2 shriveled up, broken crackers that appear to have originally been shaped as miniature airplanes. The disappointment is almost indescribable, like winning a 15 mile marathon, only to have the trophy to be a piece of paper that says "congratulations!", and the prize money turns out to be a 25 dollar gift card to what other than The Plumbing Store. It's one of the most painful experiences a human being can go through.

   

Also, you may notice that they are almost always in the shape of airplanes. I have always found this to be remarkably ironic, seeing as how you're eating the very thing that's keeping you from toppling 20,000 feet out of the air to your certain doom. "Oh yeah! I think I'll go eat my transportation like some GODZILLA right now! Mmm, it's so good!"

4: Annoying people

Annoying people are, by far, one of the worst things you will encounter on a flight- especially a 5+ hour one. Noted for having bad breath and not understanding the concept of personal space, these creatures latch onto you and talk as though it's critical to your future to know every little detail about their dirty rotten cheating husband, or how they like Cheesits better than Cheetos. Only in movies do you meet someone like: 

   

Instead, you get someone with a chronic gum infection who wants you to help them put on their ointment. So far, I've found that pretending to not speak English helps:

Or also acting like a raving lunatic:

    

-Enter peace and quiet-

Threatening to eat people always does the trick.

This concludes How to Survive and Airplane, part 1!

So I'm going through a blizard, because of ponies.

   Aye, I have embarked on a journey to...
Seattle. Washington, Seattle.
   Excuse me for a moment...
    Ewwwwww it smells like fish.
  And it's cold and wet and clammy. Like a... fish!
  There, much better.
   Anyways, why did I go on this great excursion, leaving my nice, warm home to trek through the worst blizzard in 3 decades?
Ponies. That's it, I tell you. Ponies.
   Well, ponies and acrobatics.
   Let me start from the beginning.
   My mother is a nurse. Who hasn't had a sick day/taken a vacation in the past what, 20 years? Well, she hasn't worked there 20 years, but you get the gist. Anyways, the hospital decided that, to reimburse her, they would pay for a vacation! Lucky for us, Cavalia was coming to Seattle- the closest area in the tour to our little 20 person town. For those who don't know, Cavalia is a horse acrobatic act, put on by the producers of Cirque Du Solei. We rented a video of part of it, and it was amazing. I even have a model horse of one of the (deceased) equine stars!
   So anyways, we booked our tickets, obviously. Without checking the weather report. Obviously. So when we get up to drive xxx amount of miles this morning, we see this out the window:

\

Loverly, no? 

   Thankfully, we are well accustomed to poor driving conditions and obscene amounts of snow, so we just tightened our snow-wet coats and gritted our frozen teeth under wind chapped lips as we lost feeling in our toes trying to scrape .9 inch thick ice off the windshield. 

   So after we made the journey, we finally arrived at the hotel (the Red Lion- this is the fanciest hotel that I have stayed in. Ever. Almost.), and got settled in, reveling having a heater that stays a normal temperature, where you don't have to decide between surface-of-an-asteroid-entering-the-atmosphere, or Valley Forge. We then headed out to dinner, and had a very interesting conversation, which included me thinking that my presidential candidate of choice not only had a Gruella horse, but also called him 'Mouse':

Me: "So Dad, do you like gruella's?"

Dad: "Eh?", cocking hand to ear

Me: "Do you like gruella horses?!", louder, though still restaurant appropriate

Dad: "Yeah. That's when they look like a mouse, right?"

Me: "Well that's one way of putting it."
Dad: "Newt had a gruella."

Me: "NEWT?!"

Dad: "Yeah. Called it 'Mouse'"

Me: "Newt has a horse?! I didn't know that! He rides? All that jazz about his ex-wives must have kept me from finding out..."

Dad: (not paying attention) "Yeah, he rode it to round up all that cattle..."

Me: "GINGRICH ROUNDS UP CATTLE?!"

Dad: "... Newt from Lonesome Dove."

Me: "..."
  Let me tell you, it was a let down.
  Anyways, after that we've just been back at the hotel, recovering from the drive and watching army movies, while gagging on chlorine-fortified water, yum! I did find a pony that I'm hoping to go look at, a 17 hand Warmblood. He probably won't work out, but I'm going to try to be optimistic;-)
-EQ and Spirit

How ironic.

  Is it not terribly ironic that, after posting about the terrorist fish, said terrorist fish is discovered, dead as a doorknob? Here is a short eulogy for The Fish:
   Voldemort was a very cute little fish, adored by many (okay, maybe like, 2.). A fish of humble beginnings, he was unceremoniously thrown at his owner at a town get-together. His owner, a young vet prospect, recalls when she first set eyes on him:
  "He was really ugly. He had these beady little eyes and a snide little smirk. But the sarcasm in those gills was irresistible, so I brought him home and named him Voldemort."
  Voldemort also came with another fish, who was considerably less diabolical, but suicidal. She died within the first month, due to her repeated attempts to brain herself by ramming into the aquarium glass. Apparently fish can get concussions. 
   This little terrorist lived a very happy life, swimming around in his fish bowl (yes, she did clean it, if you must know.), collecting fish flakes to make his bomb. The frequent attempts to take his owner's life did not dim her affection to him (well, it did, but she didn't kill him intentionally.). 
   Cause of death is unknown, but judging from the disturbed aquarium rocks, authorities are suspecting fish-slaughter. Due to Voldemort's mafia history, we suspect one of his old enemies, possibly Johnny One-Gill, or Scaly Ricky. Bloodhounds are hot on the trail of this cold-blooded fish-killer. 
   Autopsy has not been conducted yet, but shall be done soon, while the cadaver is still fresh. Afterwards, the body will be donated to science.
  The end.
Goodbye, Voldy! I came up with a rather morbid little song. My readers may not appreciate it, but oh well. Here goes:
  "Goodbye, Voldy Voldy Voldy!
   I need to get you out of your cage,
   before you turn moldy moldy moldy!
   You were a good fishy, fishy, fishy!
   Though you will be better sushi, sushi, sushi!"
 No, he's not going to be sushi. That was the only thing I could think of that remotely rhymed with "fishy", though, besides "dishy" and "wishy". I am actually planning on dissecting the body. Vet credit, you know.
   I just knew that finding out my best friend was moving would ruin this week... Soon the milk will be spoiling, and the dog'll drop over dead! That was a cockamamie statement, but que sera sera. Should I write a eulogy for him, too? He's not dead. But he is moving to Washington. Which is as good as (and you know I'm kidding, Wes!). A eulogy may not be appreciated though. Seeing as he's still alive and kicking (which is mildly punny, him being an orange belt). Hmm. We shall see.
A much sobered EQ signing off

In regard to fish who might possibly be terrorists and/or mutant aliens:

  There have been several comments that have arisen about my fish. In my defense, I am not an animal abuser. I do not beat my fish maliciously, or force him to eat plastic rocks, or any of those other atrocious crimes. Still though, he dislikes me immensely. You can just see that little gleam in his eye. It says "when you sleep tonight, I am going to hop out of here, flop wickedly across the floor to your bed, and gnaw your toe off, causing you to die of blood loss.". See illustration:

  

(pulling the "I'M JUST A CUTE FISHY, I WON'T EAT YOU" card when most people glance at him)

Then after the people leave, this is what I see:

 

(niiicceee fishy... Eaasssyyy fishy...)

  He grows a Mohawk, gets multiple piercings, and has that freaky "I EET U" tattoo on his tailfin. He's a regular mafia fish with his own collection of AK47s. I'm lucky every night to survive!

 

(night murderer plans)

  See? Horrible behavior, I tell you! Is it possible to turn your fish in for attempted man (or woman) slaughter? What about possible ties to Al Qaeda? Look at the plans I found him trying to hide under the aquarium rocks the other day:

  

(no respect from that fish at all!)

  See? I think my terrorist fish theories may be justified! It won't be long before he blows us all up with his alleged "fish-flake bomb", then escapes, flopping, to the nearest terrorist training site. 

  

(see what I have to put up with?)

   I wonder if there is a rehab for terrorist fish? Could be something worth looking into. 

   So yes, see now, children? This is my evil fish. Haven't the foggiest what kind of fish he is, beyond malicious. His name is Voldemort, by the way.

My most recent endeavor:

  I have -gasp!- been working on cleaning my bedroom today! I am rather proud of myself, in an odd way. I turned this:

 

(yes, that is my bed in a tornado)

To this:

 

(SEE, PRETTY!!)

 Impressive, no? It was a monumental undertaking, I assure you! The shelves got dusted, the books put to rights, the bed made up nicely, etc! Of course, I didn't tackle the closet:

 

(I'm afraid of what I might find)

Okay, calling it a portal to the underworld may be a slight exaggeration, but last time I deep cleaned it I found the bones of 2 escaped convicts, and a rather bulbous green blob:

  (poor Larry)

  Oh the joys of closets. Why do we have closets, anyways? They just collect debris! Oh well, if anyone ever tries to enter my room at night, I can just sic my big green blob on them. 

 (do you feel lucky? Well, do ya? Punk?!{I thought a "Dirty Harry" reference was fitting})

   Seeeeee? Everyone needs an attack blob! So they can be awesome and sic it on unsuspecting stalkers and look awesome as the slithering mass of gelatin slimes their way over to mutilate the person!

-EQ and Spirit

Equation:

Given: ABC

A = 45°

B = 45

AC = s

  Who. Flipping. Cares?!
 I really abhor numbers. And really, why did they have to bring letters into the mix? They belong in English, not trigonometry! Sigh.
  Well, I have this semester of school almost over! Yes! I am thrilled. I bid you good riddance, school! Bwahaha! Of course we start the next semester next week. Joy. Woohoo. Yay. Le sigh.
  In other news though, my best friend and I are planning a Spring Formal! Of course where we live, April 20th (the set date I believe, ja?) is still winter. It has been known to snow in June before. Eh. Oh well. We're having it inside, so we'll all just have to dress as Eskimos to go from the car to the building! Anyways, it's going to be pretty awesome- dancing and punch! It's like a rerun of the New Years Eve party! Only people will be wearing fancy clothes. Not sweater dresses with cool tights and "bug eyelashes", as mine were called (those things were awesome, dude!). Nope, we're trading in our cool, comfy duds for stiff gowns and suits. Quite a change for all of us country hillbilly's. What? Chiffon? What's that? A type of cow?
   Along with the planning and prep and dress modifications for that, I am studying like an obsessive mathlete for Horse Bowl- also in April!
  Quick!
  What are the 5 types of colic?!
   Spasmodic, impaction, incarceration, displacement, and excessive fermentation!
   Good! 6 English girths?!
   Three-fold leather, balding leather, web, humane, elastic end contour, and string!
   Correct! What is a Coggins test for?!
    For presence of the Equine Infections Anemia virus, or Swamp Fever!
   Correct!
   (crowd goes wild)  
 I can see it now!
  Yes, and my goal is to beat our rivals at state this year (and go to state again! That was fun.). Yes. They're these total, horrid snobs from the county across from us. Horrible! And their captain beat me in the overall score out of everyone at state- could it not have been anyone else? Oh well. I still absently stroke that 3rd place state ribbon-pathetic, eh? Especially seeing as how our team only got 4th- they massacred us on the one-on-one's, man! Oh well. We had a good group. If they had only studied...

2012 starts off with a bang!

  Okay, maybe not. Actually, it's been mildly boring so far. And we're almost a week into it! Pathetic. Something needs to happen. Something shocking. Like... world domination by nematodes, or Justin Bieber actually getting some talent and a haircut that doesn't make him look like a muskrat.
   Anyways, not doing much, just finishing up some courses, yay! School, music, and writing is about all that's going on. Karate was yesterday, and I am ashamed that I am actually mildly sore. This is horrific. I think I should have been doing more pushups over break... But I detest pushups, detest them, I tell you! Plus I'm afraid I'm getting a callous on my knuckle. Ew.
   Found an Irish Sport Horse for $1,200 OBO, but I think he may have sold. Oh well. I'm calling anyways. That's what these people get for not taking their horse ad's down after they're sold! They get phone calls from fanatical teenage girls begging for horses at a discount price. Haha, take that!
   4-H starts up again this month, huzzah(I am running out of joyous exclamations, what can I say?)! I shall be taking Horse(this should not be a surprise to anyone who knows me), and Archery. So I shall be a mounted archer! Quiver(no pun intended) in fear! Anywho, back to the projects. This will be my, what, 7th year doing Horse? Not too sure. Perhaps longer. I'll be leading the Horse Judging team, and be a junior leader for the actual riding meets. It will look good on my college applications, ja? Then I'll be joining Archery as a neophyte. I know how to shoot a bow... But hitting the target is another thing. What? You mean I'm supposed to put a hole in that big foam blob in the distance? But that's got to be 50 yards away! I can't even see that little dot, how am I supposed to aim a sharp, flying projectile at it?
   Ah well, I've got friends who are beginners as well, so I shan't be alone. Though with my luck they'll all discover they have some magical natural-talent for it (blasted people with talents!). Oh well.
   Pardon the highly unorganized blog. I just felt the need to give an update so I don't look like I have no life whatsoever. Ta-ta, dahlings!
-EQ and Spirit

Welcome, 2012!

  Happy New Year, all! Well, the party was awesome. Well, most of it, anyways. Feeling ill at 12:30 wasn't all that fun. But oh well! It went rather like:
4:00: arrive at friends house, get make-overed by her mom (who is awesome at makeup, by the way), wear eyeshadow, liner, get fake eyelashes glued on, etc. I have never worn that much makeup before. Heck, I can't even put on eyeliner without almost impaling my eye with the pencil!
5:00: begin party, enjoy the fact that as the night grows later, the partying grows more awesome
6:30 or so: rejoice when other friends come, bearing punch and more music, and the most awesome costume of all (Lobster-alien, anyone?)
7:00-12:00: Dancedancedancedancesugarfudgedsugarpunchdancedancedancewheeeee! 
12:00: run outside, armed with pots, pans, and finger-noise-maker-thingies, and cause utter chaos, hopefully waking all the other neighbors from their peaceful slumber
12:30: get ready for bed. Feel ill.
12:45: this is not fun. I dislike this a lot. I would really rather it stop. Please stop, whatever is making me feel this sick.
1:00: feel well, yippee!
1:00-2:00: gossip with friend/sister
3:30-5:00: Zzzzz
5:15: feel poke after being awake for a while. "You awake?" heard groggily from lump of covers next to me.
5:15-7:30: chit-chat, get up and get ready for the day at 7:30
7:30-8:20: hang out with other 'early-risers' (they say they woke up to our laughter! The only way they could have heard us laughing is to have been reasonably near the door. What happened to the "no roaming the house after everyone's in bed" rule? Picture my glaring at Wesley.)
8:30: head for home, get breakfast, get ready for church. Feel sick as a dog, stay home from church. Woohoo.
  It was interesting, to say the least! Lovely way to kick of the new year, being sick, eh? Oh well, the party was rockin'! I think one of the new additions to the partying cliche was rather shocked at how much the sugar-induced hyperness can overcome almost anyone's shyness. Quite amusing. And this was one of the lesser-crazy ones!
  More later, perhaps, possibly with pics?
-EQ and Spirit