It's a Rocket ship  


Forget the pulitzer my dear. I wanna win the hugo award

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Youth Publishing  


Have you ever Googled yourself? Don't be shy. We've all done it.

My problem is what turns up when I do. Poetry I got published when I was in High School. Really terrible stuff. There is one where I actually complain about how I don't have a boyfriend. In a POEM. A poem NOT on myspace.

What were these publishers thinking? Sure it sounds like a good idea to encourage youth. Give them a taste of publication and they will go after it like dogs. It encourages literacy in the youngins too. Lets do it!

Except now I will be plauged with those publications for the rest of my life. They don't go away. Google remembers. Google always remembers.

"Oh I think I'll do a report on vastly famous Tamara. I liked her in my text book. Lets see what comes up on google. Oh look. It's a poem about boyfriends... how... mature."

Thanks for encouraging me while I was crap guys. Thanks alot.

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My Best Friend  


I really think this blog should be made in all fairness. A few posts ago I told you about how my roommate is odd. I gave you an example. I'm not sorry.

But I am fair. This week I have been sick. Here's a transcript of me and my tissue

Me: Oh tissue. You are my best friend.(Blows nose)

Tissue: Silence.

Me: I'm so sorry tissue! your all scrunchy and gross because me.

Tissue: More silence

Me: Oh, youre still my friend tissue. I love you.

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Running in my Head  

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here's a song that I frist encounter watching Juno

Tree Hugger by Antsy Pants

Animated By lovely youtube user Hanllyproductions!

Listen to it once, it'll be stuck in your head I promise

This is also a bit of an experiment with embedding things so, yay technology!
(a special thanks to HanllyPro, who has never met me, and will probably never read this blog!)

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I must confess. I have delved into the deep damp pools of envy and come out alittle smelly and covered in this weird green goo. I swear there was no goo when I dived in there. And yet here I am...

I might need to translate. I envy Steve from He writes pretty much the best blog ever. I am a member of the Tree Brains. I faithfully check every day. I've read the entire archive. I have even slipped his link in my friends list over there on the left because I want so much to know this man. Nay, be this man. If my blog could only compare, then I would have the adoration of millions! Then, God knows what I would do with that power. Instead, I can only emulate and hope.

I have one problem. I don't have kids. Or a wife. Or more legally in this state, a husband. I've noticed with careful study that he often blogs about these people. For a long time I didn't know what to do about this lack in my life. I considered grabbing the next dude I see on the street and marrying him. Then proceeding to have lots of unprotected sex in hopes that my kids will be charming enough to write about. But then I realized those kids won't be able to talk for two years earliest, and to be frank, I want to be an internet sensation NOW.

Then I looked around my apartment and I found the closest thing I have. My Roomate. I think this is going to be great. I can't wait to blog about the weird things she does.

Here's is a teaser:
When sick, she addresses her chicken soup as baby. "Don't worry baby, you'll be in my tummy soon" Then she coos.

I love her. She is the best!

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A Formal Apology  

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Dear Porkchops.

I was alittle hasty last week. I threw some words around that were admittedly harsh, namely the h-word. I'm sorry Porkchops. That was rude of me.

We've had some good times Chops, we have. Remember when Mother used to make you and the next morning I'd eat the leftovers with my fingers. The grease would get all over my face as I nibbled straight to the bone. It was wonderful.

But you have to realize you're at fault too. It hurt me last week when you came out of the oven tough and bland. Do you realize how hard I worked. I seasoned you, baked you in wine. Wine is meant to tenderize you Porkchops. WHY weren't you tender?! My dinner party was RUINED!

I don't know if I can get over this hurt. I don't think we can go on like this. But maybe if we take some time apart, we can learn to be friends again.


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