Geez, what a slacker I am. In english class right now and not working. Gotta go, toodles! (wow, that was short-lived). I'll add more here later. Toodles! Okay, I'm back. Told ya I would add more later. I'm at home now. Don't get me wrong, I love English class! It's my favourite subject, eva! I love reading and writing and acting and music (tho the latter doesn't have much of anything to do with the other three, ovell). Instead of typing on here, I should be doing one of a million other actually important things: preparing music for a job audition, writing one of two AP essays due next week, creating costumes and props for a short film about Robin Hood, sleeping, eating, drinking (non-alcoholic beverages as I'm still only 16, a-hem), sitting, staring, thinking, not thinking, dreaming, reading, writing, breathing, running, worrying, well, you get the gist of it. It's just that I love writing on my diary so much that I forsake all things previously mentioned to unwind before your eyes. Today my school had a prep-rally. Well, the term coined is actually "pep-rally", but, in truth, it is a prep-rally. So, yes, I hate prep-rallies. They're long, over-done, boring... it's a haven for cheerleaders and cheerleader wanna-bes, and the people who wish they could hang out with the cheerleader wanna-bes. And I sit in back only budging to clap to "YMCA" or jump up and cheer loudly when they start playing Green Day. And not just any song, you know which one I mean. Their best song in the entire world. Let me share their lyrics with you. "Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the writst, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and don't ask why, it's not a question but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable, and in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life" Now, as in love with that song as I am, I know all the words (that was but a portion), and I was prepared to sing along, but all those skanks played was the chorus before switching to Beyonce. And that, my friends, is only one reason on a long, long list why I hate cheerleaders. And Beyonce. I stole one of my dad's work shirts today and wore it over a tank top to avoid freezing in the fridgid October air. So, in truth, I was dressed like an artistic retard, and people made sure to comment on that. But I don't care, it was comfy, and I may not dress like a supermodel (although I am supertall), I like the way I dress. Preppy and artistic, with sometimes some punk-rock teehshirts (I like to keep them guessin' what music I like, Bach or rock? The answer: both!) Tho I hear tell that people are STILL calling me "mini-Avril". First off, I ain't "mini" anything, I'm 6 feet. Avril Lavigne is hobbit size. Next off, my hair is auburn (tho the box said red), Avril's is waist-length blond. She has poser-punk, raccoon black liner that prevents one from seeing the whites of her eyes, and, truth be told, tho I do experiment with different coloured liners, I don't pile on the black stuff. She is pale, as am I, but she's a poser-pale, and I'm just naturally no-matter-how-many-beach-trips pale. I don't dress like Avril, I don't look like Avril, I don't talk like Avril, and most importantly, I don't even listen to Avril. So I'm not a "mini-Avril" or a "little Avril". For moment being, I'm gonna take it as a compliment, however. Because although her music sucks, and she's so dumb she couldn't pour water from a boot if instructions were inscribed on the heel, she is rich and famous, and that is what I hope to be, whether I'm a poser or not, because then I could pay people to like me like Joan Rivers does. So if you're reading this and you attend "The Faculty"'s school (HHS) and you call me mini-Avril, little-Avril, Avril-poser, or just Avril, go on ahead. I don't care...for now. That one day I snap, tho, you'd better watch your back, b/c you don't want the wrath of a 6 foot Irish/German girl on your hiney. Because, oooh, I'll take you down. I'll take you down to China Town (haha, I love "Meet the Parents"). Hrm, hmm, let's see...what's happened this week? Oh, well, if that's not obvious! It was homecoming week, and in "Spirit" we got four different days on which we could dress up as something. The first day was "ESPN" day, and I didn't participate as the only thing ESPN related that I own is a Yankees cap from NY, and I don't even follow baseball (I follow hockey [go Maple Leafs! I always pick the underdog], soccer [eer, Sheffield United?], and the sixteen pound hammer throw...oh, and Lumberjack competitions, b/c they usually have some hot Canadian guy log-rolling- woohoo!). Then the second day was MTV day, and I gathered up my friends and we did the Spice Girls. I was Posh, obviously, b/c she was my favourite. She's the pretty one that married the hot soccer player (woohoo!), so I got to wear the tightest, shortest, skimpiest skirt imaginable with black platforms and way too much makeup and it ruled! Then the third day was movie day, so I wore the bestest Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz dress almost exactly like the one in the movie with bright red blush and cheeks, a basket with a fluffy Toto, and bright red Chuck high-tops by Converse for my ruby red slippers. It ruled. Then yesterday was superhero day, and I was Frodo Baggins, furry feet, big green cloak, the shirt (that was actually Ralph Lauren, but it was the same exact shirt as Frodo's, linen and all, except that it had a pocket), the ring, the Sting (no, I'm not kidding, I have a plastic Sting that lights up blue). People loved it, it was crazy. Some are still calling me Frodo, which I don't mind so much, I think it's a nice nickname. Whole lot better than Avril. If you attend HHS and wish to call me anything other than my name, I'd advise Frodo over Avril, Avril could lead to pain, but "Hey, loser" is pretty good too. Anyways, when I was dressed as Dorothy, people told me I made the perfect Dorothy b/c I look like Judy Garland. No, I don't. I don't what-so-ever. Not in the least do I look like Judy Garland, it was only because I was dressed as Dorothy and it's pretty hard not to look like Judy Garland dressed like that, even if you're a guy. Then my orchestra teacher told me I look like Linda Carter (WonderWoman) when he was trying to figure out who I was on SuperHero Day. Then some of my friends agreed. It's only 'cuz I have dark brown hair (naturally, now it's "red") and light blue eyes. Then I've heard Natalie Portman and that ugly chick from "Blair Witch Project". None of them do I believe. People suck up, way too much. But I still like hearing it! Darn it, now I have a mixture of Avril Lavigne and Beyonce Knowles stuck in my head. Why? Why me? Poor little me, pity me. Pity Amanda. I've been on here an hour. It's past due time for a drink (non-alchoholic, remember!) and some Tylenol (proper dosage, just say no to drugs, kids!). One last after note: people are starting to tell me that whenever they see something involving Ireland (Namely a bumper-sticker reading "The reason there is whiskey is to keep the Irish from controlling the world" or anything involving Colin Farrel), they think of me. Because I'm full of Irish Pride. Because I'm Irish Royalty. I'm actually part of the American Royal Family as well. And Elvis is my 3rd cousin, so there. I drip Ireland. Go me. Toodles!