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Sixteen, Christmas, Mice (Hmmm...)

Tue, Dec 20, 2011 at 5:09 AM By: Maiden of Malice

Ah…December 16th brought me the tic-toc sound of a yearly pendulum striking 16. It’s weird how people get so obsessed with the idea of turning a certain age, but then when you actually do, it really doesn’t seem all that special. Sure I can LEGALLY drive now, but other than that, what’s the major significance?
So anyway, I went to school and I, being the dorkling that I am, had a cheap hat from my sister that’s colored like the Wonder bread package and says “Happy Birthday” on the brim….it’s so rainbow…
I totally wore that ridiculous hat for the most part of the day, but then one of my douche-bag classmates purposely pointed out to my self-absorbed American Cultures teacher, Mr. Lipps, (hehe), that we weren’t supposed to be wearing hats in school. Here I would like to add that it was at the end of class when he had to open his fat mouth, and up ‘till then, literally NOBODY had a problem with it: including the freaking principal. So I had to take it off…that is, until I turned the corner, where I then adjusted it back on to my crown ? Ah, the sweet resonance of defiance for a hat that really IS lame...

Now let’s talk about Saturday: my family’s annual reunion/ Christmas party on my dad’s side. Honestly, that’s probably the one thing each year that I can really count on. I get to see my awesome, psychotic cousins who have a gazillion kids running around and banging on a piano (terribly, of course) and who are all completely amazing in their own way. I love this party because it’s something that gets all my 5 other siblings together and just lets us be the freaks we are, (except for me, obviously, because I’m too awesome to be normal or a freak). I must say that out of all my cousins, Ellie has to be the coolest. She dyes her hair funky colors and has tats and piercings, is a tattooist, and gives me a taste of my own medicine: sarcasm and sass. I LOVE IT! You have NO idea how much I long to find someone else who can truly stand up to my own ridiculousness and defeat me, but even though my cousin gives me a run for my money, (as if I actually HAD any, HA!), I always tend to win in the end. (*Sigh) Will I ever find that certain someone?
As it turns out, little children just so happen to adore me. My 5 year old cousin Riley is either unnaturally clingy or very good at sensing awesome people, but either way, she would NOT stop stalking me and making me hold her throughout the entire party. I hope when I have kids that they’ll be that crazy, or else I might have to spend the rest of my life in a deep depression knowing that I was being followed by a little girl with a determined love for her big cousin. Thank the non-existing god that I beat that child in Bingo…
Besides my mental cousins, I also had two of my best, (or worse ? ), pals with me…you know, to keep me somewhat in check when I wanted to spike the punch bowl, (even though I didn’t think about that until just now, that would have been freaking hysterical. To me, at least.) I was trying to get a hacky-sack circle going, but everyone that could actually play left me, so I was stuck with people who may be referred to as ‘n00bs’ (I’ve been harped at by some unreliable sources that that is how you spell it, not ‘n-e-w-b-s’ like I think it actually is supposed to be). Later, though, things got a little more interesting when I went with the kids to go see Santa. Every year the same 30-something year old guy dresses up in a beard and red suit to play jolly old Saint Nick for the kids, giving them an opportunity to really express just how greedy they are and to give them nothing but false hope and a candy cane. Well, I, being the terrible person I am, always go to see Satan…uh, Santa… and I also sit on his lap. ? It’s so great to watch his face die a fraction more every time I bring my ridiculousness around. This year, I was impatiently waiting in line with a little hop in my step when he asked, “Who’s next?” I raised my gimpy hand (yes, my TRADEMARKED nickname is Gimpy, folks, because my friends are jerk-ish morons) and asked him if I could PLEEEEAAAASSEEEE go next… ah, the look of utter disgust towards an obnoxious teenager is absolutely priceless when it comes from somebody, especially Santa. Long story short, I left him with a candy cane in my hand and the assurance of seeing him next year: as well as the wish (that will NOT be filled by him) for a new amp and to meet Disturbed, of course. And as he got into the passenger seat of a ratty old car a few hours later that night, saying the classic, bullshit line of “Merry Christmas, good night, blah, blah, blah,” I shouted back to him the following, uncensored words: “I FREAKING LOVE YOU, SANTA!” So if I happen to get raped and/or killed by anyone, it’s probably that dude seeking revenge in his red and green, pseudo-merry life. I feel like I should have given him a hug…after all, he DID give me a kiss on the cheek last year…

Yowzas! I totally almost forgot to share my seething rage of the week! (*Clears throat dramatically)
You know how I’m doing that biology project called “Music, Mice, and Mankind…”? (If you don’t, and care enough to know what the hell I’m talking about, I have a past post explaining what it is. Join if you want!) As it turns out, my mouse Monica is either demented, pregnant, or just an utter bitch. Before we left to go to the Christmas party, (at a place called “Tic-Toc”, which I find hysterical considering it’s a community center type thing/ retirement home), I looked around the 5 mouse cages on my dresser to discover lots and lots of chewed things. A job application, kickass prints from when I did print-making a few years ago, parts of books, AND, to REEEEAALLLLYYY piss me off, my damn limited edition copy of Asylum with a few nibbles in the spine. Honestly, my band, especially my DISTURBED!, things is just something you DO NOT mess with. Needless to say, I was angered to the point of tears. I thought that a wild mouse had come on top of the dresser and did that because it was out of reach of the cages. As it turns out, the only crazy mouse, Monica, had the ONLY wire cage and, even though I didn’t think she could fit, managed to slip in and out at night when she knew no one was paying attention. I don’t have any idea why she has such a grudge against me, but out of all the mice, she was the one that hated me right from the start, and, I assume, had taken a vow to make my life even more miserable than it already is. So after seeing her out of the cage, I put her in a bucket with a top on it, adding the comment, “Let’s see ya get outta THAT one,”…evidently that isn’t something you say to an organism that can and will actually process human speech. For later that night, (actually, it was like 1 in the morning at this point), I went to check on her and, although there was absolutely NOTHING that indicated how she got out, discovered her gone. And of course, later that day, the person to find that little brat just HAD to be my dad when she poked out from behind the fridge. We caught her, shoved her in a proper cage that I borrowed from my friend that night, and ever since, she has openly been planning her assassination against me. I walk in the room, and she stops, slowly turns around, and glares at me with her beady red eyes and tiny ears slicked back against her possessed head. She deliberately dragged her red chew stick into her water, making it turn the shade of blood, and continuously dive-bombs into her bedding the way a teenager might throw things around a room. Finally, at night, Monica the-sadistic- mouse launches herself into the side of the cage and grabs onto the top, chewing as she keeps sliding down. I’m thinking that she shacked up with a wild mouse and is now carrying a womb full of rodent demons, but I can’t be sure just yet.
My point in all this business? Never buy an animal that wants to murder you and destroy your kickass CDs: it isn’t very satisfying to feed them, clean their cages, or hold them afterwards…

P.S. I’ll have to post some pictures of my new black Harmony guitar: it’s pretty sweet. (Now I have a whammy bar: HELLS YEAH!)

\m/ (Me love you long time!)
–Amber G

"Straight out of line! I don't need a reason..."

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