I'm a little teapot and I'm going to stab your chin with the blunt end of a fancy drink umbrella.

Is it okay to throw a temper tantrum on your blog?

I mean, we all get REEEEEEEEEALLY mad every now and then.  And we need an outlet.  So, short of sticking a fork inside an actual outlet to "release steam" (yes, it works), the next best thing is to throw a hissy fit.

Oh wait.

That's what facebook is for.  Remember how you could throw toilet paper at people way back in the "super poke" craze?  Or sheep.  I liked to throw sheep.  They smell awful and have ticks and I'm going to throw a sheep at you and hope you smell like sheep pebbles for a month and a tick bursts on your knee cap.  So there.

While I'm at it, I'm going to clinch my fists, bury my face in a duck and scream out all my frustration until I've swallowed a throat full of feathers.

And then I'm going to stomp on the ceiling and pound a broom on the floor and listen to Paramore really loudly because that band always makes me feel like my enemies are epic and real and I have something significant to fight.

Maybe I should break out my silver set and go hunt a werewolf.

I just can't say anything.  Because every time I write what I really want to say, I grumble about not being a jerk on my blog and dutifully punch the back space.

But really.  I have a punching bag for moments like this.

Just Talking to Myself

Triage.

The metallic scent of iodine hung in the air, catching on every particle that swirled through the tent.  A young nurse pulled on a dirty sheet, obscuring the waxy, white face that had, moments before, moved with the strain of wheezing breaths. 

"Let him go."

The nurse stood still for a second, willing her nose to stop stinging, and the tears to retract back into her eyes.  She tried to focus on where she was, what she had to do, but she could still see him the way he had been - fun, creative, jovial... alive.  She took a deep breath, then turned to face the patient.

"I did everything I could, Jack.  Everything.  Somehow, he still died."

Jack nodded.  "I know.  I watched you."  He looked away for a moment, then buried his face in his pillow, unleashing a violent cough. 

The nurse moved to the table, reaching for a bottle of quinine.  "I'm sorry, but we're out of codeine.  I used the last of it on Sam."

"Victoria," Jack objected, holding her hand.  "We're getting low on quinine too.  Give it to the General."

"The General's fever isn't as high as yours, Jack.  Hold still."  She tried to pry her hand away, but he clenched his fingers more tightly around her wrist.

"Victoria-"  He stopped, his voice coming out in a wheeze as he turned to cough again.  When the fit had passed, he sat up.  "If you give it to the General, he'll survive."

Victoria shook her head, tugging away.  "If I give it to you, you'll survive.  Jack, I can't do this on my own.  I need you to help me look after them all."

"I might survive.  The General will.  He's not nearly as bad-off as me."

Victoria bit her lip, fighting back the same rush of tears that had been hiding just behind her eyes.  "I should have gotten the order in.  I'm sorry.  I knew we were getting low-"

"You didn't."  His words were hard, but his eyes held a gentleness to them.  "You didn't, Victoria.  It's done, and that doesn't matter.  What matters is that you are right here, right now.  You have a third of a bottle of quinine, a little mercury, some bandages and eight... seven patients.  Three of them are nearly dead already, and this is the most coherent I've been in days-"

"But that's good.  Take the quinine - I can save you."

"No, Victoria, you can't.  The General will pull through, Pete will pull through, and if you have enough left over, you might be able to save Steven."

She looked over at the beds where the rest of her patients were lying.  Three of them, including Pete and Steven, were regular foot soldiers.  Then there was the General.  A small girl they had pulled from the village took up a space, but she was nearly gone.  She'd been starving and nearly dead even before she was injured, and they had all wondered how she had lasted as long as she had.  The sixth was a fellow nurse who had worked herself nearly to death and fallen ill within two days.  And then there was Jack.  He was the doctor, the one who knew more than anyone about how to cure these people, and the one on whom Victoria constantly relied.

She turned back to him and shook her head.  "Jack, I need you alive.  You are what is going to get me through this."

He half-laughed, half-coughed.  "Victoria, what good can I possibly be to you?  I can't even sit up, let alone care for anyone."

"You're the doctor!  Anyways, I can't just let so many people die.  Their lives are in my hands.  I'm completely responsible for them."

"You can't save them all.  Sam is proof of that."

Her eyes hardened as she moved the quinine back toward his face.  "I have to try, Jack.  What am I if I don't give these people everything I have?"

He reached for the bottle, blocking it from touching his lips.  "Victoria, if you try to save them all, you will lose them all."

She froze, the bottle still in her hand.  "You don't know that," she whispered.

"Give them everything you have," he said quietly.  "Give it to the General.  Give it to Pete.  Give it to Steven.  They'll live if given enough care.  The rest won't.  If you don't fully treat those who will live, every last one of them will die."

Her fingers were ice against the bottle as she sat back.  Those horrid tears finally broke through, running over her cheeks and down her chin.  "I can't lose you, Jack."

He smiled, reaching for her hand.  His fingers traced over the knuckles that gripped the bottle of medicine.  "Victoria," he whispered, closing his eyes.  "I'm already gone."

Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider...

Get more stupider?  Who came up with that rhyme, anyway?  It's pretty incriminating on the intelligence of the chanter...

And anyhow, boys do NOT go to Mars to get more candy bars.

They go to Venus.  To...

*ahem*

Never mind.

Anyway, today I researched Mars.  It was fun.  I learned a lot.  Yay!

I really should have done this sooner, but I'm sadly lacking on my mythology know-how.  Today I found out that, much like Anakin Skywalker, Mars did not have a father!  (And here we thought George Lucas was ripping off Christian lore...)  Turns out Mars was conceived by a flower.

Yes, a flower.

Big, beefy, god-of-war, I will spear you in the face if you look at me wrong Mars was conceived by a flower.

I'm guessing it was a petunia.

No wonder he had aggression issues.  All that bottled up "I have no daddy" stuff...

Anyway, turns out it was the work of Juno, his mother, who was annoyed with Jupiter for having a kid all on his own and usurping her mother role. (Jupiter spawned Minerva out of his forehead.  How do they do these things???)  So Juno went and talked to Flora (not Fauna... don't get confused, people), who said, "Hm.  Well I have these magical flowers that might help you restore balance and have a kid on your own.  Let's test it."

They looked over and saw farmer Joe milking Bessie down by yonder barn, and approached him.

"Hey Joe," Juno said casually, leaning over Bessie's back.  "How's it going?"

Joe raised his eyebrows.  "Aren't you Juno?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're from Rome and I'm a small-town American farmer.  What are you doing leaning on my cow?"

Juno shrugged.  "Oh, you know, just..." she leaped over the cow... "TRYING TO IMPREGNATE YOU!!!"

Joe leaped away, but no rural American farmer can outrun a Roman deity.  Juno chased him around and around the barn yard, scattering chickens and scaring eggs out of ducks (which... as they were in the presence of a Roman goddess, then hatched into rainbow ponies... with alligator teeth and bat wings) until finally Joe could run no more.

He collapsed against the gate post, gasping for air.  As Juno approached, a manic gleam in her eye, Joe cried out in desperation, "Somebody save me!"

Now, Joe was a good farmer.  All his animals loved him.  They looked on in horror, some of them peeking between their feathers, others cringing away.  Though they loved him, none were courageous enough to save him from Juno.

Except Bessie.  Oh noble bovine!  She leaped forward, throwing herself between the goddess and the farmer!

The flower touched her side.

Her udder dried up and her butt became that rosy pink color that cows get when they're either in heat or pregnant.

"Huh," Juno said, tilting her head to the side as she watched the transformation.

In the next instant, Bessie's midsection swelled, and then she popped out a calf.

Juno turned back to Rome.  "Hey, Flora, the magic flower worked!  We can restore balance and get revenge on Jupiter now!"

So Flora touched it to Juno's belly, and she popped out Mars.

And that is why Mars is the god of war?

There's a new band in town, but you can't get the sound from a story in a magazine... aimed at your average teen.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give it up for a brand new band with a brand new sound!  It's the Dirty Diapers!

What's this?  Two white girls?  What will they be gracing us with tonight???

*Savvanna and M&M take the stage*

"Ahem."

"ONE TWO THREE FOUR"

"Shawty had them apple bottom jeeeeeeans (jeans!)
Boots with da fur (fur!)
Da whole club was lookin at hur (oh!)
She hit da flo (she hit da flo)
Next thing ya know
Shawty got low low low low low low low"

Audience: O_O

"That was... a very... unique performance, girls.  Thanks for that.  Pretty sure my eyes will never be the same again."

"Why thank you.  We choreographed that dance routine for a whole week!"

"And your 'white-girls-imitating-black-people' accent.  That was its own brand of... um... well it was its own brand."

"Thanks!  You're so nice!  That's actually how we came up with our band name, the Dirty Diapers.  We're so ghetto-"
"Yeah!  We're gansta, yo!"
"Uh huh!  We're so gangsta that we may be white on the outside, but beneath that we're all chocolatey brown."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why whenever me and my roommate try to sing Flo Rida, Usher or Nelly, my other roommate (who is also white) looks at us, shakes her head and just says, "Oh man.  You two are so white!"

So much, yet so little...

I was going to accomplish so much today.

And, well, I did!  I had a photo shoot, and finished pictures for a book cover.  I'll get them to the designer on... Monday?  Probably Monday.  I'm done with them, but I forgot to get the model release form, and I don't really want to admit that, so I'll tell her they're done on Monday, after the form has been signed.

But, I was also going to do my stats homework.

And go to the gym.

And I kinda wanted to check out the Islamic art exhibit in the BYU Museum of Art.

Now...

Now I'm blogging.

And looking at my stats book.

Maybe I should read it.  I mean, I only have 4 more weeks to do over 20 lessons, 2 midterms and a final.  Yeah.  I should do my homework.

And eat dinner.

In the Light of the Full Moon

Once upon a time there was a pack of wolves.  They didn't get along, so they all killed each other and there was lots of gore and stuff and it was really gross.
Then this story had such a depressing ending that it won a Pulitzer.
The end.