How Could I Forget Channing Tatum?

Warning: Kinda-not-really male nudity ahead. Not for the light of heart (/hormones).

I was going to say that my last post was my girliest post to date, but then I remembered my list of my celebrity crushes. Well, the Jonas Brothers are manly as hell so I will not comment further on that matter. But upon remembering my celebrity crush list, a devastation fell upon me:

I forgot Channing Tatum.

Or as my English prof would say, Tanning Chatum. Or as I would say, Tatum Channing because I could never remember which was his first and last name.

I mean, yeah, he's a little white-trashy, but in a really hot way, like the construction workers who take their smoke breaks outside my bedroom window. Nothing invigorates you on a bright spring morning like airborne carcinogens.
Besides, who doesn't like a bit of trash here and there? It's endearing. It's kind of similar to how hot Mark Wahlberg was back when he was a wannabe gangster. I shudder at the thought that he reminds me of the current Justin Bieber, which at least gives me hope for Justin Bieber's future. I'm sure he will grow up to be a sophisticated, delicious middle-aged man like Marky Mark has so elegantly become.

What just happened?

Oh haiiiii there.

God bless GQ Magazine.

Mostly, though, I just can't believe I let Magic Mike evade me. I've never been so ashamed of myself.

It was a terrible, terrible movie, if you think about it in terms of plot and character development. But it is so indulgently gratuitous that it makes you forget that movies need plots or stimulating characters. Oh, wait, the characters are stimulating.

I'm still making a petition for Miles Teller to replace Alex Pettyfer in the sequel. The sequel that I will be writing/directing/costume designing.

Tell me you don't want to see that in a skanky firefighter costume. Skylar Astin can be in it, too.

It's basically gonna be this, but a full-length feature film. 

I know, I can't wait either.

Mini Mall Haul

With the most honest of intentions, I had set forth to write a post every day, or at least every other day. Obviously that's worked out.

But it's really not my fault! I have been doing nothing but studying for the past three weeks, and especially this past week, and it's been brutal. I had my final yesterday. Let's not talk about that.

The worst part is that I couldn't even go out and party to celebrate/down my sorrows because the few friends I have who are taking spring term with me had to study for their own tests. Tres lame. So my Saturday night consisted of stuffing my face at a mexican restaurant (I'm still impartial to the deep fried ice cream. My opinion was that it so odd that you couldn't really enjoy it) and watching 90210 in my room until my computer overheated and stopped working. Party hard.

Well, I'll admit, yesterday wasn't so bad. I did get to hit up the mall. 

Yay, stuff! But this time it wasn't just me spending time on useless crap. I needed all this stuff, I promise.

I was on Sephora's website a while back and I saw this Disney Princess Jasmine nail polish collection, and I had to have it. I was in the market for new nail polish anyway (one of my many intellectual hobbies), and it was perfect.

From left: Berry Tale Romance, Your Wish Is My Command, Fit For Royalty, Dream Princess, All That Jasmine, and Aladdin's Girl.

 The names are even better than the colours.

I love the little sets from Sephora; they're my absolute favourite. Pretty much all of my nail polish is Sephora by OPI because they have a huge range of gorgeous colours, and it goes on so smoothly. Okay, MAC is actually my favourite, but I haven't been in there since I was 15 and had a high ratio of disposable income to expenses.

I put it on as soon as I got home, and then proceeded to eff them all up as I continued to get ready to go out for dinner. You can't really tell though.

Taking pictures of hands is so awkward.

I'm actually really upset with my nails right now, because I'd been growing them out for a month and yesterday, just when I was about to repaint them, I realized there was a huge split in my middle finger nail. Every. Goddamn. Time. So I angrily chopped them off, hence why they're so stubby.

I bought the Sephora Total Package base, top coat and strengthener (seen in the first photo) with high hopes that it will somehow help my nails to be all Lana Del Rey, so we'll see how it goes. It cost four times as much as the strengthener I bought from Shoppers Drug Mart six months ago, so it better work.

I was also disappointed because I got the nail art set (1st photo and below) from Sephora (gotta rack up those Beauty Insider points) and was so excited to do some cool shit on them. But they're too stubby now, and it would look dumb. So if my nails ever grow out without snapping off at inconvenient times, I will try out some nail art. For now, I'll just stick with the unimaginative accent nail. 

I needed sunglasses ever since I broke the American Eagle ones I bought for spring break after a week. (American Eagle, I'm so done with you. You've really gone downhill. But I'll still buy your jeans because I have stubby legs.)

These ones were 2 for $20 at Aldo! I've decided that after I graduate and get a job, the first thing I'm buying is a $300 pair of sunglasses. Prada's the dream. Oh, after I get my BMW, of course.

The rings are also from Aldo, and were sold in a set. I usually buy jewelry because I think it's cute in the moment, and then never ever wear it. Honestly, the only jewelry I ever wear is my Tiffany stuff (and I say that in the least spoiled-bratty way possible). I love rings though, and basically I only bought the set for the white diamond-shaped one and pretty robin's egg blue. I'll wear them every day for a month to get my money's worth. Or at least until I get that green ring around the base of my finger. Oh wait, that's already happened.

This is a cute little lotus ring holder/key holder/whatever crap I want to put in there. I think it looks best with rings, though.

My friends and I went to Chapters, and one of them asked me, "Why are you buying the book when you've already read it and seen the movie?"

To which I responded, "Because I'm a nerd and need my own copy."

I'd borrowed it from a friend when I read it, and they had these super cute, old-style copies, so I couldn't resist. Also, it has additional F. Scott stories! I want to read them right now. Maybe after I finish this post.

Also, Divergent!

Looks pretty Hunger Gamesy, doesn't it? That's because it is.

Miles Teller's gonna be in the movie they're making out of it, so obviously I have to read it. I think it's a teen novel, which will be good for me because it's been way too long since I've read one of those. It's kind of like TV shows:

- kids like to watch shows about tweens (my ten-year-old obsession with The Suite Life of Zack and Cody)

- tweens watch shows about teens (Gossip Girl was about teens, wasn't it? Really mature ones. It's kind of ironic because the characters kept getting less mature as time went on)

- teens watch shows about adults (I pretended to be sick for two months so I could watch all eight seasons of How I Met Your Mother)

- and adults gleefully watch all of the shows (I know full-grown adults- I count myself as a baby adult -who are way more into Twilight and The Hunger Games than I ever was.

But I'll read Divergent.

One last thing, I bought flowers like a real grown-up!

It's been three days and they haven't died yet, so I'm pretty proud of myself. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. How do plants work? Someone please explain.

Oh, and don't mind the withered up little flowers. Those died when I was transporting it home in a plastic bag on the bus. Cashiers really don't provide much durability for your purchases when they assume you have a car. 

I just realized this blog is turning into one big show-and-tell. Meh. It's not my fault I have such interesting visuals to share.

Ten Teenage Crushes

I recently read a post by the very funny Kate of the blog Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine in which she lists ten crushes she's had. Some of them were adorably embarrassing, and it got me thinking about my own crushes over the past few years, and particularly the embarrassing celebrity ones.
I may still technically be a teenager, but that doesn't mean I don't look back on my junior high days with varying levels of shame and regret at my unrequited loves. Also, using the word "crush" here is very much an understatement. When I develop a crush on someone (real or fictional or famous, but mostly famous), I become obsessed. Like, literally. I watch all of the movies they're in, watch all of their interviews online, create folders on my computer filled with photos of them... Sometimes I think better of it just in case I actually meet said celebrity crush and they fall madly in love with me, only to be driven away by my stalkerness, but I'd rather have easy access to those shirtless photos.

So without further ado, here's my list, in kind-of order from way back to now:

1. The 8th Grade Fantasy: Ed Westwick

I don't remember having any crushes until I was 13 and started watching Gossip Girl. I mean, there were cute guys at my school and stuff, but they were kind of immature and obnoxious. Gossip Girl was the love of my life for a few years, before it kind of went off the rails and into shitsville. It wasn't even so much Ed that I liked as his character, Chuck Bass; he was so witty and brooding and secretly romantic that even his flaws seemed irresistible. The height of this passion would definitely have to be making Chuck and Blair wallpapers and writing fanfiction. Oh, the good old days.

2. The Everyone Loved Him at Some Point: Zac Efron

This one's a given. I didn't even start liking him until a few years after High School Musical. The scene in 17 Again when he's wearing those sunglasses and that leather jacket and he gets out of his car and locks it without looking back has got to be one of the best cinematic moments I've ever experienced. 

Zac's been one of my biggest obsessions to date, so much so that my 15th birthday party was Zac Efron-themed. If you don't believe me, I have proof:

Yes, that is a cake with his face on it. I had it custom-made. There was also a HSM tablecloth (pictured), HSM cups and plates, a HSM pinata (luckily for me, all this stuff was still popular), and about 50 pictures of him taped up around the house. The one in the dining room stayed for about 2 years before my dad finally forced me to take it down.

I also taped a picture of Vanessa Hudgens to the pinata, just so I could hit her in the face repeatedly with a baseball bat. 

3. The Mid-2000s N*SYNC: The Jonas Brothers

One Direction who? Not much needs to be said about this one; they were the metrosexual heartthrobs of my generation. And the reason I listed all of them collectively was because I oscillated between them; at one particularly dark point in my life, I was deeply in love with Kevin simply because no one else was and I wanted to be unique. He was my Msn Messenger icon. It was that real. 

4. The I'm Too Cool for Edward Cullen: Jackson Rathbone

So we're entering the Twilight era, and I will never, ever like Robert Pattinson. Besides, Jasper was always my favourite vampire. Sure, Emmett was pretty funny, but Jasper was so... angsty. His body language was worth a hundred of Emmett's sex jokes.

Kellan Lutz kind of reminds me of a beefed-up Seann William Scott, and I don't know how I feel about that. 

5. The Most Beautiful Man Alive: Matt Lanter

Matt Lanter is one of those guys who is just way too good-looking to be human, kind of like Ryan Reynolds. They're so hot that you can't ever take them seriously. I remember when he first appeared on 90210, and everyone was flipping shit. Obviously they had to boot the boring dude no one cared about so Matt could become a permanent ratings boost (side note: I'm friends with a girl who was Dustin Mulligan's neighbour AKA Ethan, the guy that got bumped off after season 1. Basically Matt Lanter and I are BFFs). I'm pretty sure he's the only reason anyone watched 90210; he's the only reason I did.

6. The Animated Crush: Flynn Rider

I don't even care that he's a fictional character because he is damn sexy. I've had conversations at length with various friends over the pervertedness of viewing animated characters in a sexual light. I think it's most appropriate when it's a human character like Flynn. Or He-Man. Whatever you're into. The lines start to get blurry when you talk about non-human characters and drift into that beastiality-esque area.

Still, my view on My Little Pony is that the characters were meant to be viewed as kind-of humans... how else could those male ponies be so alluring?

He's wearing a bowtie and vest. He's basically Owen Wilson from Wedding Crashers.

Okay, I'm going to stop before this goes too far.

7. The Second Animated Crush: Emperor Kuzco

I wish I was just joking with all this stuff, but I'm really not.

Remember, from The Emperor's New Groove? The TV show was even better, in my opinion.

He's kind of like an Egyptian Barney Stinson. Also, it took an entire high school education to learn that Emperor's New Groove doesn't actually take place in Egypt. I think they were Mayans or something? But I mean, come on, who could blame me? They had fancy hats and pyramid-things and those haircuts... anyone could have made the same mistake. Excuse me if I don't know the geographical origins of llamas.

Also, this picture has been my iPod background for a solid year and a half. I can't imagine my life without the internet.

8. The Fuzzy Heart: Jason Segel

This one's more of a personality crush, where he is just adorable and talented and I love it. He definitely made the first few seasons of How I Met Your Mother for me, and the Muppets was amazing and I may/may not have screamed and/or cried the entire way through. When that snobby bitch Michelle Williams broke up with him because she "wasn't looking for anything serious," I wanted to punch her in her pursed little mouth. (I'm sure she's actually very nice, but it's one of those things where I just dislike her for no particular reason. Kind of like Natalie Portman. She's just too sweet and intelligent. Something's clearly wrong there.)

He was such a stud in Freaks and Geeks, though.

9. The True Teen Heartthrob: Jason Priestley

When I was about 16, I started watching Beverly Hills 90210 (the old one), and Brandon Walsh was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. He was such a do-gooder, and it was so hot. It's the kind of crush that's like true love, where over time it just deepens into this kind of warm, comfortable affection. I'll never find anybody as good as Brandon.

And yes... I have the doll. 

Speaking of obsessions, I'm obsessed with '90s television. It was just so much better than the crap we have these days (not that I don't watch Honey Boo Boo from time to time). In fact, anything before the new millennium was awesome. Doogie Howser MD holds a special place in my heart. He can be an honorary member on this list.

How can anyone say no to 16-year-old Neil Patrick Harris? He totally would have been my tween crush, if I hadn't been born in the wrong decade.

10. The Love of My Life: Miles Teller

This one is extremely important. 

If you don't know who he is, good, because I want him all to myself. The first movie I saw Miles Teller in was Project X (yes, I saw that in theatres- we almost didn't get let in because it was rated R and we were 17 at the time, but one of my friends was 18 so she was allowed to be our "chaperone." Don't worry, she covered my eyes during the bad parts). I remember briefly thinking, "Oh, that guy's pretty cute," and that was the end of that. A few months ago I saw 21 and Over (I was 18 this time so I was allowed to watch the bad parts- heheh, butts), and that's when it all started. 

It's not that he's the hottest guy in the world or anything like that. He kind of reminds me of Jason Segel, except young and hot and an even better dancer. There's just something about him that I love, and I don't quite know what it is. My best guess is that we're soulmates.

Also, this was an accident. Well, a sort-of accident. I was perusing random posters and autographs on eBay when I stumbled upon this beauty, and I never wanted anything so badly since my Brandon Walsh doll:

It's just the most hilarious thing. Anyway, I made an offer on it, only briefly considering whether or not I would be locked into buying it if my offer got accepted (I'm not very good at eBay). Turns out it did get accepted, and yes, I was now obligated to buy it. There are definitely worse fates to be had.

So basically, I now own something that he touched/breathed on. I hope I don't get pregnant. I'll wear gloves.

And that leads me to the present. If you haven't already checked out Kate's list, make sure you do so, and let me know who your 10 crushes are! I'm getting so lonely that I might have to post comments on my own blog under different names to make myself look popular. Let's not make that happen. 

OH! One last thing. I know I already used up my 10 crushes (it was a difficult decision cutting it down to these sexies), but I just wanted to add Alan Rickman in there.

I could care less that he's like 70; that voice is timeless. Sense and Sensibility was so wonderful that you didn't even notice that he was ~30 years older than Kate Winslet. Also, Snape.

I'm done now, I promise.

Various Orchestras

Wow. I'm sitting here right now, willing my brain to pump out some witty and awe-inspiring post because this is one of my only spare moments this summer, and I would like to spend it by putting some uninterrupted effort into blogging. Obviously, that's not happening, and that's why you're reading this bullshit excuse for a post. It's interesting how inspiration evades you at the moments when you will it the most.

I suppose I might as well just do a boring little log of my day so far, and hope that the magic Pulitzer ink starts flowing on its own.

6:35am Wake up the sound of construction guys sawing two-by-fours right below my bedroom window. Thanks, construction guys. And please, don't stop yelling obscene sex stories to your coworkers. I really wanted to know what happened next.

It was either endure this, or close my window and boil like a lobster in my own sweat.

Great start to the day, nonetheless.

8:15am Head off to take my biochem midterm. Embarrassingly, this required the use of public transportation. I say that it is embarrassing because 96% of the time that I take the train, I either take the one going in the wrong direction and/or get off at the wrong stop. Luckily it was only full of respectable business people who pretended not to be laughing internally at my incompetence. 

9:00am Write the midterm. It was aiight.

11:40am Hand in my midterm to the midterm-handler guy, who tries to make some joke that I didn't get and just ended up staring at me awkwardly while I stared at him awkwardly, trying to make sense of said joke. After standing there for about four minutes, I asked him if I could go. He said that I could.

12:15pm Arrive at the mall, because what else is there to do on a Friday after writing a test? Certainly not more studying. Eat a cup of frozen yogurt three times the size of the suggested serving. I gotta celebrate somehow, and I'll be damned if it's by working out or eating a salad or whatever healthy people do. Frozen yogurt's healthy anyway. I think.

12:30pm Go cray at the grocery store because all I had for lunch was that frozen yogurt and it is definitely not filling me up. I may or may not have bought Lunchables. I'm an independent adult who can make her own decisions. That also involves Top Dogs, because my body isn't allowed to eat real food. 

GET IN MY DIGESTIVE TRACT, YOU DELICIOUS FAKE HAMBURGERS.

I hate the word "tract." It just sounds so icky. Like tract infection. Bleh. I think I'll start calling it Digestive Avenue. That's much less disturbing. 

1:15pm Curse as my grocery bags simultaneously break and stuff goes flying everywhere.   I would have brought reusable bags, but I'm a cheap ass and need those plastic bags for garbage bags. Like I'm actually gonna buy garbage bags. Last time I checked, I wasn't Martha Stewart. That'll also be the day that I stop using laundry detergent as face wash. It's all the same shit. Plus, a bottle of Tide lasts forever if you get the 3x concentrated kind.

In retrospect, I realize that plastic bags with gigantic Disney-princess-pasta-can-shaped holes in them are not really that great for future use. But that still doesn't mean I'm going to buy garbage bags.

1:40pm Pass the HMV in the mall, briefly ponder how HMV is still in business, and then remember that THEY HAVE THE GREAT GATSBY SOUNDTRACK IN THERE. Proceed into the store trying not to look too ecstatic, casually pick up the CD, have the sales girl come up to you and ask you if you need any help, watch as she gets just as animated as you once she sees that you're holding the Great Gatsby soundtrack, and have a fifteen-minute long conversation with her about the casting of the movie. Stop talking to her once she tells you that she doesn't really like Leonardo Dicaprio. Buy CD.

(I should probably acknowledge the fact that I'm buying a physical CD, which is just as unusual to me as it likely sounds to you. I believe the last CD I bought was in early 2008, at which time I got an iPod and never looked back. There used to be this notion that if you really valued the artist and their work, you'd buy the physical CD, because it's more substantial and you get the little booklet with pictures and stuff. I know that 70% of the reason I would buy albums was for those little booklets. I exclusively bought Taylor Swift's albums to decipher the little messages she wrote with capital letters in the song lyrics. Obviously it was not because I liked her music. Obviously I couldn't just look up those passive-aggressive messages on the internet. 

But now iTunes gives you an online booklet or those weird EP things and whatnot, so it's irrelevant, and there's the whole illegal download thing. I guess having the physical copy means something to me because the movie means something to me, and I feel that it's nicely consistent with the vintage theme.

So there's that, plus I ran out of money on my iTunes account.)

2:00pm Get on the train to go home, and (expectedly) get off at the wrong station. Hop back onto the train before anyone notices. 

Lots of people noticed.

2:00pm Arrive at home and freak out in private about aforementioned CD. 

IT'S THE MOST GLORIOUS THING I'VE EVER OWNED.

(Besides my signed Miles Teller photograph. But that's a story for another day.)

I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT YOU'RE WEARING WAY TOO MUCH MAKEUP AND IT LOOKS FABULOUS.

Oh hey Leo, didn't see you there. How's it going?

And don't worry, I won't stop liking you because you've "been in too many movies." I bet that sales girl hates Meryl Streep, too. Lunatic. 

IT'S ALL SO BEAUTIFUL. Of all of the interpretations of the Doctor T.J. Eckleburg sign, I love this one the most. And the cover art. It's just a grand concept. 

Oh, and the music's quite good, too. Complex and beautiful, kind of like the orchestra that is a living creature. If you want to get philosophical about it, that is.

And well, I suppose that leads me to right now. Here's the plan for the rest of the day:

- work out (the word "plan" evidently does not refer to realistic goals)

- study hard (see above parentheses)

- make pasta (this one's attainable, if Kraft Dinner counts)

- party hard (it's Friday, y'all. Maybe I'll even finish watching this season of How I Met Your Mother. It's getting rowdy up in here)

- find a boyfriend (anything can happen on a night in with your amino acid cue cards and processed foodstuffs)

We'll see how all of that goes.

As a closing thought, there have been ads around the city for this mall called Southgate for months now. Only today did I notice that the ads were cleverly 1920s-themed. Whoever passed on not temporarily renaming the mall "Southgatesby," I should have your job. 

Well, at least they got the "great."

An Aquatic Soap Opera

I was sitting in the library yesterday, as one does, and I couldn't help but overhear the conversation of the two guys sitting behind me:

"Fish are fucking awesome."
"Yeah, but you don't want to name them after real people, because then it just gets awkward."

You hear some interesting stuff by unintentionally eavesdropping (my opinion is that if you're talking about stuff in public, you're pretty much asking it to be front page news on Yahoo!. Or you would be, if Yahoo! was still relevant). I don't want to hear what you have to say, but since I can't cut my own ears off (I mean, even if I did, I'd still be able to hear your conversations. Inner ear and cochlea and auditory amplification and whatnot), I might as well pretend that I'm a part of your conversation.

But this post isn't about the stupid shit that people say in public. I think I could start a whole new blog on that topic. But no, it's not about that; this post has to do with the fish thing. I don't think naming fish after people gets awkward; I'd say it gets... complicated. Allow me to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I had a fish tank. Well, I still do, but my dad is letting the fish die off so he can get rid of it, which I'm quite upset about because they are my beloved (and only) pets. Whoever says fish tanks are so '80s is a fucking liar. If I use the term "miniature aquarium," does that make it sound more interesting? Alright then.

About a year ago, before the Great Purge began (well, of the fish, that is), I had quite a few fish. Most of them were boring and ugly and nameless because no one cared about them, but my fish were the platys, the colourful and adorable little swimmy thingies. At the time, there were four of them, two spotted and two Mickey Mouse. Yes. Mickey mouse platy is a kind of fish, which delighted me to an infinite extent.

IT'S GOT A MICKEY MOUSE ON ITS TAIL. GENETICS, BITCH.

The two spotted ones were named Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake, while the Mickey Mouses were Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger. I thought it was great; Justin and Britney were a couple, and so were Jake and Heath.

I believe that fish are anatomically genderless and therefore assume whatever sex you arbitrarily place upon them. So far, nobody's proved me wrong. But the relationships between the platys were not imaginary; Justin and Britney were actually together all the time, as were Heath and Jake. 

The real Jake (middle) and Britney (right). The swordtail on the left is my dad's, and the swordtail was kind of the king of the aquarium. I've decided just now to name him Jay-Z. And yes, I take pictures of my fish. I thought everyone did that. They're very elusive around the paparazzi, though, hence the blurry shot.

Things in Hollywater (like Hollywood, get it? Heh heh heh. Okay, sorry, that pun was subpar at best) were great for a while. I think Britney was even pregnant once. It was a beautiful life for the platys. 

Yes, everything was wonderful, until the disappearance of Justin Timberlake. 

It was as if he had been swept up into the water filter; he was gone, without a single trace. Was he spooked by the possibility of fatherhood and decided to flee, or was it an even more sinister circumstance? Was it suicide? Was it murder? Was it cannibalism?

I suppose we'll never know. 

Britney miscarried from the devastation of losing her husband, and slipped into depression. Looking for solace after the loss of the love of her life, she turned to her friend Jake. Jake and Britney became closer day by day, while Heath became the third wheel. Heath was, presumably, distressed at the thought of losing Jake to Britney, while Jake was confused by his conflicting emotions. Half of him loved Heath for their comfortable relationship, but the other half was drawn to the enticing and seductive Britney. He just couldn't choose between the two. Unfortunately, he didn't have to.

A few months after Justin's disappearance and presumed death, Heath passed away, in just as untimely a manner. One day, he was the most talented fish in the mini aquarium. The next, he was floating on the surface of the water, a hollow body that was not as celestial as his soul. Or maybe he was on the bottom. I don't understand much about fish physics. Anyhow, he just couldn't cope with the pain that Jake was putting him through. Seeing him and Britney constantly together (which was unavoidable, since this aquarium is, of course, miniature) was heartbreaking. Jake deserved happiness, and perhaps that was only attainable with Heath out of the picture.

Jake came to terms with Heath's death relatively easily, which may have been the result of the distancing between them near the end of their relationship, or the possible association that Jake had to Heath's death. He could have very well killed him; I don't know. An autopsy wasn't performed. At the very least, he killed him emotionally. I'm sure we'll find out the truth on the reunion show.

Heath's death blanketed the aquarium with solemness, but in the face of death, life goes on. Jake and Britney continued to grow closer; they only had each other now, in a world that seemed determined to tear them down. But they rose like Atlantis.

(I don't understand much about that, either. Wasn't there a Disney movie? I remember a Disney movie. Something about the "forgotten princess," which is ironic, considering she was from a forgotten city. I guess it wouldn't kill me to put a little research into my references, but I think that errors are intellectually stimulating.)

When's her Coronation?

But of course, not all can stay golden. Or whatever. You know the expression I mean.

The population of Hollywater was dwindling, what with all these mysterious deaths. The Hollywater Tourist Association put out their best ads to lure in new citizens: 

They're fish, okay? You can't expect them to be marketing/graphic geniuses.

To the shock of everyone who knows how to properly edit photos, Hollywater actually attracted some pretty cool people-fish. 

Brandon Walsh was a marigold platy, meaning that he was basically sunlight reincarnated as a living organism. 

*Not the actual Brandon.

He was big and golden and spectacular, and he knew it. You know when you look at a fish and you think, "Wow, that is one cocky fish"? I'm sure this happens to people regularly. But he was pretty much the frat president of the aquarium. He had that much swag. 

(I wanted him to turn out like the original Brandon Walsh, but alas, he was more of a Steve. And not in the redeemable ways.)

Brandon was a ladies' man. When he wasn't admiring his reflection in the glass walls of the aquarium, he was being dutifully followed by his fan club of guppy groupies, Brenda, Kelly and Donna (I swear I'm not making this up. I couldn't even if I wanted to). 

We all should have seen it coming. One look at Brandon, and Britney ditched Jake's poor Mickey Mouse ass. Britney and Brandon started hanging out constantly, and Jake was flushed into the Fishy Friendzone (toilet joke. Ha). By now, you should have noticed that Britney is a bit of a flighty tramp. However, Brandon was her true love (for real this time, guys). Jake, of course, still loved BritBrit dearly. He clung to their romance, despite the pain of watching her leave him behind for a new and exciting life with Brandon. She even got pregnant a few times, but sadly miscarried each time (come to think of it, she was probably just a yo-yo dieter). Jake swam along in the shoulder lane of the Brandney highway, always waiting for the return of the girl he had given up the man of his dreams for. But she never came.

Jake eventually died, after enduring more than a year of unrequited love. Britney and Brandon lived the to the ripe old ages of about 2 years, leaving behind a legacy of drama that will forever haunt Hollywater. From the time of their living greatness and demise, things will never been the same. 

"That's seriously how it ends?!"

Bears a striking resemblance to their real-life counterparts, doesn't it? Maybe not. But it happened, nonetheless. And I promise that as soon as I return home for the summer, I am getting a whole bunch of new platys for the next generation spin-off of Beverly Hills 9021H2O.

Note: All of this is 100% scientifically accurate and true. I mean, at least from what I observed. I'm not a fish whisperer but I'm pretty sure that's what was going on. 

IMAGE SOURCES

Mickey Mouse Platy: http://www.tropicalfishintl.com/platy.htm

Kida: http://yaraffinity.deviantart.com

Aquarium: www.hdwallpapersarena.com 

365 Letters

On second thought, my hand's already cramped from all the notes I've been taking (it happens when you're doing a four-month-long course in the span of three weeks). How about 365 blog posts instead?

Being at university while all of your friends are back at home for the summer is lonely enough. What makes matters even worse is that Tawna, my best friend from high school, is in Italy for the entire time that I'm in summer school. I know that I should be mature and simply wait for her to come back to the Great White North to tell her tales of my depressingly solitary life, but I'm not exactly the most civilized person.

Me and Tawna at Starbucks.

 (image: anime-ray.deviantart.com)

The thing about my friendship with Tawna is that I tell her everything. And you may be thinking, "Well, that's only natural for best friends," and I would agree. However, I think the general definition of "everything" and my definition are two entirely different things. I tell her every single thought that pops into my brain, unfortunately enough for her:

...I really need to get a life.

Well, 365 letters, 365 blog posts, or 365 text messages... the love is the same. 
♥♥♥