That's a tune from the BloodHound gang. I hope it's not offensive (because it's not) since it's kinda politically incorrect. I think it's a good white boy song about being, well, a white boy. "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire." That song cracks me up. Probably 'cuz I'm just a white girl who listens to rock about being a white boy.
Right, what was I talking about? Shopping! I did some last minute shopping at the mall with my mum and dad and brother today. First we hit Hot Topic, and they had a Smeagol shirt I got for my brother that said "They stealsss it from usss, and we wantsss it back...my preciousss" (with a big ol' picture of Gollum on the front) and then my brother and I went to KB Toys. I was gonna buy him a Legolas action figure (can you tell we're LOTR fans?) that he wanted, but I guess they're in high demand because there were none to be found. So he picked an Aragorn, and I picked an Eowyn, and we got each other the ones we picked, and pretended we hadn't seen them.
So then we went to get my dad some new clothing, and lately he's been wearing the plain New York black. Black everything, everywhere. It's crazy, I always feel outta place in that city (not to say that I don't love it there, because it's like home to me, as it should be since I'm moving there in a year and half) because I wear bright (apparently Southern) colours and everyone there says I have a tinge of an accent. I don't think I do (minus the occasional "y'all", I can't help that), and if I do, it's certainly not a Texas accent. It's not like I listen to country. But I've been working on the "y'all". You laugh, laugh all you want, but it doesn't seem the least bit odd around here in Virginia, not even amongst angsty teens, to say "y'all". It's just natural, and no one seems to notice. But I've noticed, and I'm trying to fix my speech so I no longer have an accent unless I want it. That's why I'm the master of accents. Scottish, English, you name it, I'll do it.
Not to seem conceited or anything. Anyway, so back on track. We got my dad a black shirt like the ones he likes, only it's got a whole lotta white pin stripes just to mix it up. And then to go along with it, we bought a black suede jacket to soften his wardrobe and keep him warm. I suggested a blue or pink shirt (because pink does look nice on guys, and not just the gay ones), but I figured he'd never wear it. Well, mum also chose out a nice watch, and we called it quits for dad. And then dad and my brother went off to look at video games, and my mum and I went to the Limited, where we bought the sweetest matching tops (mine was pink and hers was black)(and, yes people, I bought something pink, bright bubblegum pink, just like I said I would someday since it looks so nice with my red curly hair).
Then mum and I got some mochas at Starbucks (the great American institution) and met back up with my brother and dad. Apparently my brother also got me an Agent Smith action figure. Everyone's getting me the neatest action figures! The only action figure I've ever had up until this point was Jack Osbourne (since he's my favourite Osbourne).
Funny story! One time at school I was incredibly, unbelievably, disasterally ill, so I went to the nurse's office. She took my temp (100 something Farenheit), and decided to send me home. Well, there was a guy flirting with me the entire 10 minutes I was there (they always pick on the sick ones), and when I told the nurse my name, both she and the guy thought I said "Amy Osbourne", and it was madness! The guy was like, "Are you Ozzy's daughter?" (and he was serious), so I played along, and answered in my best English accent, "Of course. I moved out a looong time ago, I couldn't take all that celebrity as well as the rest of the family", and the nurse believed me too, and as soon as they started flipping out for an autograph, I told them my last name wasn't even Osbourne, and my first name is Amanda. I had them sincerely convinced that I was an elite Brit, and I had a good laugh about it. People are so stupid. Then the guy just stood there and kept laughing, "Well, you look like Kelly only thinner and taller." Uh, no. Kelly Osbourne is really pretty and all, but I look nothing like her.
Well, life is fun. That was the first and last time I've been told I looked like an Osbourne, but I have been told a lot more lately that I've got a Cate Blanchett look. Apparently people see it a lot easier than me, but I'm not arguing, because she's pretty.
Well, tomorrow's Christmas Eve. As tradition we always open one gift on Christmas Eve, and I promised my brother that I'd open my Eowyn action figure. He's really excited about all of his stuff. My parents went all out this year, and we still have dough left over (precisely why my mum and I tried to blow it all at Banana Republic, but the Limited had a better selection). My brother and I are getting PS2, a $200 telescope; I'm getting stuff from Newport News (the company, not the city), Victoria's Secret (and, surprisingly the store, not the catalogue, which makes no sense to me), and so on.
What could my mum get me at Victoria's Secret? It's beyond me. She said she spent nearly $100 there. On what? I always said I loved the wings on the bras so much that I'd model for them just to have them, but I don't think they sell those. Too bad, though, because they're cool. I like the ones that are, like, 6 feet on either side. 6 feet like me! That'd be the perfect size then, I guess. What am I talking about? Wings? Yeah, I'm not weird. Not at all.
I even told my brother that I was mad, because I want to be TinkerBell in the new Peter Pan. Had I known they were filming one, I would have gotten myself an agent and joined the cast as Tinkerbell, just to wear the cool wings and neat little dress. Laugh all you want, but I would have loved that job, even without speaking lines. Just filming in front of the blue screen in wings and neat pixie makeup... Right, I'm looking like a loser again. But one day I'll be in a movie where I'm wearing wings and pixie makeup and pointy ears, and I'll be making millions of dollars, and you won't be laughing at me anymore.
Well, geez. My dad's watching Two Towers (again). I'd better run before it gets to a hot, I mean stirring, Frodo part.
And if you haven't seen Return of the King, go now. It is the best movie in existence, even if Legolas got two speaking lines (that's an exaggeration), but the hobbits (which are my favourites) got all the glory. Go Pippin! And Frodo, woo-wee! Well, I'll type about it another day. Gotta go for now. Toodles!