Post-Armadillo Ramblings

I just had to have one more title with the word armadillo on it. Blogs are great for that kind of stuff. Update: I'm obsessed with Losing Lisa by Ben Folds.

We got Burger King again today. My mom said no Subway because she said, and I quote, "I don't like sub sandwiches because they taste bad." Yick. Taste bad my eye. This is Subway. Five dollar foot longs. Subway. But moms...or well, just me revise. My mom will be my mom. I'm sure other moms would probably object to Burger King instead of Subway.

I will move to Canada if McCain wins. Okay, fine. I will not. I wish. But, I will be unsatisfied, and lash out at anyone who tries to rub it in my face. I will be disheartened. I will not be at my best. If Obama wins, I'll be on top of the world. Gosh. He better win. I'll probably slide into depression if he doesn't. Well, no. Maybe. Most likely not.

So I kinda want my room to be done. We're not making much progress. I need my headboard, which is like the essence of room in this scenario. It's like, if the headboard isn't there, it's a Oreo without the cream...and one of the cookies for good measure.

Yup. Not in the best mood today. It's been boring, been anxious about the election, been kind of annoyed and then more annoyed because I shouldn't allow myself to get annoyed at what I'm becoing annoyed at.

-Scissors

Armadillo 101 (my new obsession?) & Annoyance 0.3

I keep pressing (well, this only happened on this and the last post) publish post right as I'm typing the title of the post. And on this last one, I muttered to myself "Edit Post" as if reminding my brain what to click. Haha...ha...ha. Anyways,

Did you guys know that armadillo is Spanish for little armored one?


Oh wait. Before we move on to what will inevitably be a long information-filled post that probably no one will care about except perhaps myself and my future self looking back on it as a resource. Let me just get an annoyance in there, for good measure. Annoyance 0.3: when people don't care about something someone else is doing, but watch/read/participate in the whole thing, complaining the entire length of however long the activity takes, then informs you how no one cares, and gives everyone who asks them about it a scathing review. If you don't care, don't be a part of it.


Get this. I always thought of armadillos as little tykes, but really they're usually about 30 inches in length. Which is about....2 and a half feet. Man. I always thought they were like half a foot long. So that was a culture shock. I don't know what culture, but I definitely felt culture shock.

Oh. So some armadillos can be 5 feet long, some can be four inches long. But the average is as listed above. The 'armor' is made of these little scales called scutes. (Good to bear in mind in case you're ever in dire need of a creative random fact).

The South American three-banded armadillos are the only ones that can actually roll up into a ball. Other have too many plates (You can have too many plates? That's a bummer).

Aha. Okay, so the North American nine-banded dude jumps straight up when surprised, collides with car fenders, yada yada, thus the 'armadillo on road' collection of photos. They can stay underwater for six minutes and will sink unless they blow up their stomach (with air, not explode it) which can double in size.

So there's some armadillo info, which will no doubt probably be of no help to you or me....ever.


But ya never know.

Armadillos

Today in German we started working on Journal Entry No. 2 for our Character Journals. My original character proved to be harder to work with then imagined. It's hard to figure out ten things Squirtle the Pokemon likes to do. So I swapped to a turtle named Nora. I had to pick a friend for her, so naturally it was Binky the Armadillo. I've always known I liked armadillos, and thought they were pretty much phenomenal, but I've never known what armadillos actually are; or what they look like for that matter. I do recall a few hazy El Dorado memories, but nothing to be consider a resource. Right there, my friends, is your armadillo. Pretty cool, right? Actually, that's a bit scary. Just a tad. When I was searching for the image, a lot of the photographs of the armadillo were them lying on their backs. They looked....almost furry on their stomachs. Are these armadillos dead? Are they playing dead? Are they just chilling? Is this a ritual? Do they have to do this to get into certain "cool" armadillo clans? And I'm talking, lying on their backs in the road. Guess I shoulda mentioned that earlier. So more to come on uncovering the mysterious armadillion way of life.

Saturday

I went home and started to do my chores, and got a call to babysit. So I accepted because I need to moola for Chicago, and got picked up at 11:30 to babysit til 3 for a 3-4 year old and a 12-18 month old. It was....okay. Well, at first I couldn't get Aviva out of her highchair, because you put the tray on top of the seat and then have to remove it to get the baby out. But surprisingly, saying 'It's okay' and playing peek-a-boo worked like a charm while I attempted to figure out one of my life's mysteries - how to remove the stupid tray from the high chair. So I did, then we went off to find Max, who had been playing in the basement. Not surprisingly, they have a problem with sharing with each other, which I should have seen coming but I didn't. I realized that it seemed like I was taking Aviva's side and I always hated when my parents did that to me and my brothers, so I suggested playing on of Max's favorite games - hide and go seek. After that, Max played 'let's see what will happen if I do everything my mom told the babysitter I couldn't do'. He started playing with this microphone thing and turned it up really loud and got Aviva crying, and tried watching TV and we played the 'you push the on button I'll push it again to turn it off' game, until he finally gave up. Then it was time for his nap, and he wouldn't sit up on the bed, he wanted to sit up his headboard. Since Max was doing it, Aviva of course wanted to. I read them some stories, then for his last story he picked on of those things were it's not a real story, just these flaps you lift up and slide to see more of the picture. Aviva was all over that. Then Aviva wanted to leave, but I couldn't let her wander the house alone while I tried to passively force Max into sleepy-land. So then Max declares he'll open the door for her. I told him Aviva needed her nap too, so I brought her downstairs and got her a bottle and milk, and found Max just sitting on the stairs when I started to go up them. I told him Aviva needed to be rocked (which was true, I wasn't improvising) and that he needed to at least be in his room reading or playing or something. So I took my time rocking Aviva to sleep, just like she took her time getting tired, and then she started crying, but her mom had said she would and that she would lie down and be asleep in a couple minutes. And then Max was missing. This was not a good situation. There was a lake in the backyard, a million hiding spots, an accessible stove and fride, the garage door was open. I called my mom in a panic, and he did show himself, and then of course refused to take a nap. We talked about Halloween, he brushed his teeth for about 40 minutes, had me pick him up while he was wrapped in a blanket and take him to pre-assigned destinations, and then went on youtube typing in gibberish and looking it up. But, I made 30 bucks - so all's well that end's well.

Annoyance 0.2

2) When people tell you you're not done with something, then list everything you have left to do.
I'm not done. Okay. Leave me alone so I can get done.

I wanna be one of those people who stays up the whole night obsessively working on a collage that's not for a class or for any purpose but to be obsessed over until satisfied with, singing myself hoarse all the way.

One of those people who can be realistically abstract, and spends most of her time doing work in Starbucks.

Sort of crafty, sort of artsy, sort of unique.
There should be a word for it. But there isn't. Always words you never need to use, but the useful things go unnamed.

Huh.

Branden: Becca?
me: Yeah?
Branden: I don't know who to vote for.
me: Uh-huh.
Branden: I want to take a turn changing the world, but I want everything to change instantly.



I know man, I know.