Hi!
Hi!
Hi!
(Sorry, had to do that, or else it wouldn’t let me post a really long title without covering up the first few lines.)
I really don’t have a reason for writing except that it’s New Year’s Eve. Really, what more reason do you want?
I think all bloggers are obligated to write on New Years.
I won’t be doing anything special. I probably won’t even turn on the TV and watch all the people in Times Square. One of these days I’m actually gonna go there, but for now I’m probably going to spend it my room reading. Maybe I’ll make an extra glass of iced tea. Maybe I’ll actually eat dinner for a change. I’ve been too busy for dinner lately; imagine that. Me, Bridget, too busy to eat a meal. I never had problems with that before.
In a way, I kind of like being this busy. And college will definitely be fun. All I have left for 11th grade is Literature.
All right, I guess here is where things stand, at the end of 2009, in my corner of the world.
1. I just took a five-minute break and came back with dinner – the first one I’ve had in a week. (My mom isn’t to blame for this at all. She calls me, but I never come out.)
2. I haven’t worked on any of my stories for almost two months, I think, and it took me three weeks to read The Man in the Iron Mask, compared to my usual two days for a book that long. (The book was actually kind of disappointing. It wasn’t that interesting, and everyone I liked died, and not even in a heartwrenching manner. They just died. It’s different from the movie. For anyone who hasn’t seen it or read the book, I won’t spoil it. They were both pretty awful if you ask me. The movie was made a lot worse by Leonardo DiCaprio’s long hair. I’ve heard he looks pretty hot in general, but he just looked like a girl there.)
3. Our country is going downhill – and fast. The economy is screwed. Nobody knows what’s happening overseas. Thinking about the healthcare bill makes me feel sick. Ironic, huh? At first, it seemed like nobody wanted it. So how the f*** did it get voted in? (My dad’s gonna get mad about me swearing on my blog. ;-D)
4. I haven’t died yet. Secretly I’m convinced that’s a good thing.
5. I’ve had my permit for almost two months, and I’ve managed to stay on the road, at a great expense to my personal preferences and moral values.
That’s about all I have to say. So Happy New Year, I guess!
– Bridget

I had a strange dream last night. For one, I was a boy, and for another, I was the son of a chief. My mom and I were captured and put in a huge warehouse. Really huge. It was maybe about fourteen stories high, and I’m not exaggerating (although my brain might be). That wasn’t to say there were floors. There was just one floor – at the bottom – and there might not even have been a ceiling. I don’t remember. But there were shelves lining every wall, about a story apart, and there were trains on them. So my mom and I jumped on a train (we were at the top) and pushed it off the shelf. I don’t know what we expected to happen, but we found out pretty quick that we would die if we stayed on there. So we steered it (in the air) towards the shelf perpendicular to it and jumped. We managed to grab a bar from the train on the new shelf and pull ourselves up.
We did this until we got to the bottom. After that, everyone was chasing us and I guess my mom got away or something because I didn’t see her again. Everybody was chasing me, even the people who didn’t look like they were. I remember there was a black girl with a blue shirt and a football who didn’t look like she was chasing me but I know she was relaying my location to the others. My brother Jeff was chasing me too along with a friend of his.
I think finally I just sat down with the girl’s football under my arm and let them catch me. Figured I might as well take it like a man. Dreams where I’m a male turn out to be some of the weirdest if you ask me.

Something about me makes me want to hit bookshelves. Something about me makes bookshelves want to hit me. Therefore, I am constantly hitting or being hit by bookshelves. Something’s wrong with that.
They’re tightening up on airport security. The latest technology is a people scanner that looks under your clothes. That means (since security guards are watching the scanner) that every time you go flying, somebody is visually undressing you. Nice, huh?
They started this after a guy tried to bomb a plane with explosives he hid in his underwear. The attempt failed when he burned himself while trying to light the fuse. Serves him right.
I think next time I fly I’m going to write “F*** you.” on my chest. They’ll like that, don’t you think?
Sheesh.

Mmm, four hours of freedom left. Make ’em good…

My dad tried these out.

1. Put it through the wash. (In his defense, this one was an accident.)
2. Dip it in a curry pan. (That was actually my fault.)
3. Wash the curry off. Decide it doesn’t smell right. Put dish soap on it and wash it again.
4. Fry it on the woodstove in an attempt to dry it off. Don’t catch it on fire; that’s a bad idea.
5. When it’s finally dry, restore it to its original position – in your pocket – so it can go through the laundry again.

I should have posted ages ago ’cause there’s a lot of stuff going on, but I didn’t have time. (I don’t really have much time now even.) I’m overworking myself on geometry; 60 pages yesterday, increasing by ten every day after that, but I’ll be done by this thursday.
Sierra’s back in town! She’s been in Canada for the longest time up at school, and she’s back for Christmas break! So she’s gonna stay the night with me, and I wish she would log on so I could talk to her. Grrrr! Sierra! Where are you?
I went over to Kevin’s house last weekend and killed my fingers on his guitar, got addicted to red bull, of all things, lost a sparring match (but we are SO doing that again) and in general had fun.
I took a practice SAT a couple weeks ago. I scored higher than average but not good enough if I wanna get a scholarship. So I guess I won’t be taking the real one until March.
You should be doing homework, not blogging.
Oh, shut up. Ever since you were born, you’ve been the bane of my existence. Can’t you leave me alone on Christmas break?
You don’t get Christmas break.
I like to pretend I do. Leave me alone and let me finish blogging.
Yikes, myself never leaves me alone for a second. Unfortunately, she/it is right, and I do have homework (a lot of it, in fact) and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet. So ciao.
-Bridget

You know, it’s not really healthy for you to argue with me. For you, I mean, if I get mad.
Never mind that, it’s time for an argument.
%*@#! Leave me alone!
Okay. *cowers*
The End.

*sigh* I just finished history for 11th grade. Now all I have left is Chemistry, Literature, and Geometry. I can’t wait until college! I’m actually getting excited about it.
I went driving on the ice the other night. ;-D That was interesting. I won’t say what happened; someone might get… inspired.

Turtles really do eat peaches, oddly enough. When I came up with the name, it was just a random thing brought on by too much sugar, not enough sleep, and the assistance of a brother in much the same condition as I was. But they really do. Huh. Story of my life. I do something by accident and somehow get it right.

Uggh, I’m bored.
Well, Bridget, maybe you should do something.
Like what?
Well, Bridget, you could do homework.
Say what?
I said, ‘Well, Bridget-‘
There’s no need for you to say it again. I was expressing my shock and disbelief that you, knowing me as well as you do, would suggest such a thing.
Well, Bridget, you could also read.
I could, couldn’t I? I already tried that. If I hadn’t already, I would do that instead of asking myself what to do.
Well, Bridget, if you ask me, you are actually asking me.
You are myself. Therefore I shall refer to you as such. Leave me alone.
Well, Bridget, you did ask me for ideas.
Why do you keep calling me Bridget?
It’s your name, Bridget.
Well, there’s no need to be so repetitive about it.
Fine, be that way. One would think you didn’t like me.
Sometimes I hate you. You never shut up. If it weren’t for you, I might actually sleep at night! Imagine that!
Well, it’s your fault too for creating so many interesting predicaments for yourself!
I’d like to go to California.
I’m sorry, where were we? I thought we were arguing.
I miss the beach. And the green walls of the hotel we always stayed in. And the ocean!
You’re going totally off subject! We’re supposed to be arguing! The title of this post says (and I directly quote), “A quick argument with myself.” So argue!
I always liked waiting for the tide to come in. It would start by just barely licking my toes and before I knew it, it was at my waist and knocking me over every other wave.
*sighs*
You know, salmon is really good the day after it’s cooked, when it’s been in the fridge for a day and it’s nice and cold.
I give you up.
The End.