Morgan Freeman Lives

So CNN says Morgan Freeman is livng and breathing and in high spirits after his car accident on Monday.  That’s fantastic news because he has yet to adopt me as his granddaughter and read me bedtime stories in his made-for-narration manner of speaking.  Ah I love Grandpapa Mo.

My question is how in the world did this car magically go flying through the air for forty-five feet and come crashing down on it’s trunk.  The witness and polican there were no signs of alcohol or drug use (though how can you trust anyone when you’re talking about Morgan Freeman? I’d lie for him any day), so that’s not a cause.  There’s no reports of small animals or fallen branches that could have caused the car to spin out of control.  All that has been said is that it was raining earlier that day.  Not even while they were driving.

I’m not trying to say anything about Mississippi, but unless their highways are made out of mud and grits, I don’t see how that would be the cause.  But I know very little about very little.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Chick Fight

I wrote this on July 22 and never got around to finishing it and therefore never got around to posting it.  However I probably won’t ever get around to it so I might as well just let it go.  I added a little something just now to wrap it up but that wasn’t how it was intended.  Ah well.

My friend go into a fight last week.  Here’s how it went, as it was told to me (Note: minor artistic liberty has been taken with dialogue, read with caution)

Scene:Nighttime, Parking lot of Taco Bell

Participants:

The Instigator, AKA Captain Planet
The Back-Up, friend and punch-taker for Captain Planet
The Polluter, Captain Planet’s arch-nemesis
The Sister, Captain Planet’s sister
Hells-no Hannah, she don’t take no shit
D, Hells-no Hannah’s passenger
Cry Baby Boy, Polluter’s friend
The Driver and Passengers, Polluter’s support

Story

Captain Planet, Back-up, and Sister munch on delicious Taco Bell goodness in Captain Planet’s car.  All is well until Captain Planet senses danger across the parking lot: a taco wrapper falls from the window of the only other car in the lot.  Trouble ensues.

Captain

I’m gonna say something

Back-Up

C’mon, don’t say anything.

Captain

No, I’m saying something.

Sister

Please just let it go

Captain Planet drive closer to the unidentified vehicle where she meets The Polluter and her crew of drunken riff-raff.

Captain

You dropped something

Polluter

Huh?

Captain

You dropped something.

Polluter looks down at wrapper

Oh, I know.

Captain

You’re not the only one on this planet you know.

Polluter

Excuse me? I’m from the streets.

Captain

You’re still not the only one on this planet

Polluter

Why don’t you get out of your car and say that to my face?

Captain Planet rashly, but boldly swings the car door open and makes her way towards the wrapper.  The Polluter then proceeds to exit her vehicle, and catches Captain Planet halfway to the garbage receptor.

Polluter

You dont’ know who the fuck you’re talking to.  I’m from the streets.

Captain

Where the hell do you think you’re from? Fucking Harlem?

The gap between The Polluter and Captain Planet closes swiftly as the yelling gets louder; their faces just inches apart.

The Polluter

You’re just a fat, ugly, white bitch is what you are

Captain Planet

You need to back up and get out of my face

The Polluter gets closer

Polluter

Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?

Captain Planet proceeds to purse her lips, lean forward, and release a smacking noise only recognizable as that of a kiss.  The Polluter is displeased.

Polluter

You bitch!

The Polluter shoves Captain Planet roughly to the ground.  At this, The Back-Up leaps into action and attempts to restrain The Polluter by grasping her arms from behind.

Polluter

Aaaaggghhh

The Polluter swiftly maneuvers out of The Back-Up’s flimsy hold and in one fluid motion, turns around and jabs The Back-Up on the left side of her chin.  Just as The Back-Up realizes the fight has begun, another knuckle salad is tossed onto her left temple.  Ouch.

Fade to Black.

Great News

Tired of your annoying beeping alarm clock jolting you out of your peaceful slumber?  Well you can just throw that little noisemaker right out the window (though I recommend a garbage can for safety reasons) and sign up the receive WAKE UP calls from Hannah Montana herself!

She even does activity reminders for everything ranging from Cooking Club, to Karate, to Wrestling!

So get a move on and submit your wake-up call now!

For Uncle G to the TV

The present perfect is used to describe three situations 

1. Actions that have started in the past and continue presently
   1. Ex. 1: I have been bustin rhymes since the day I was born.
   2. Ex. 2: I have been institutionalized for most of my life.
2. Actions which have occurred at some undefined time in the past.
   1. Ex. 1: I have been to Paris three times.
   2. Ex. 2: I have tried to go to the gym, but I just don’t like it.
3. Actions that have happened in the past and still have an effect on the present.
   1. Ex. 1: I have lost my virginity.
   2. Ex. 2: I have consumed this entire bottle of vodka.

 All of these are examples of present perfect that are not to be confused with the past tense.  You see, situation two is easy to be confused with the past; however the difference is that the past defines when something happen.  One can say “I went to the store this morning.”  One cannot say “I have been to the store this morning.” It’s because of the defined time. 

 Now, some of you may be thinking, “But you CAN use the present perfect using defined times!” For example, “We have gone on three vacations in the past year!”  However “in the past year” is considered the range of time from 365 days ago to the present, while “last year” would be specifically the last calendar year, for which you would use the simple past: “We went on three vacations last year.”  Therefore, that range cannot be considered a “defined” time.  I know it’s fuzzy, but that’s English for you, isn’t it?

 I don’t think it’s necessary to go into the past and future perfect tenses, but if it is I’m sure someone will let me know.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Ow

It’s on days like these when I wake up with the impression of a rock bludgeoning my temple because I failed to get my necessary fix the previous day that I seriously question my sensibility in continuing to feed my caffeine addiction.

But I’m too weak to suffer withdrawal.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Rewarding Jobs

So it’s past midnight.  It’s Sunday.  I have work in the morning and clearly I’m still awake.  I know that once this happens I will be kicking myself in the morning because I’ve gotten significantly less sleep than I need for optimum functionality during the day.  And I know I’ll have a shitload of work to do because this is my last week of work.  As much as I bitch about Marsha (and oooh I do loathe her), I’m pretty lucky to have found that job.  I get paid more than most of my friends with regular jobs (the others being babysitters for multi-millionaires who get paid a hundred bucks to chauffer a kid to his/her riding lessons – garbage), I don’t actually have to do that much work (I mean I do post on here and chat most of the day – if you’re bored on AIM it’s slinkyzim, yo), the people I work with are all sweethearts and are extremely appreciative of my helping them (except Marsha the filing devil), and when it comes to selecting my days/hours I pretty much have the liberty to do whatever I want.  Sure I’m working fulltime now, but that’s because I need to make as much money as possible.  If I could only work three days a week, like I did in December, they’d gladly take it.

Working here is certainly easier than the work I do in LA.  I work as a tutor for high school students in downtown LA, and it’s not exactly the easiest job in the world.  Sure, I’m a tutor for an accelerated program where the kids actually WANT to learn and work towards not only graduating, but getting accepted into a college/university, but dealing with that age is trying under any circumstance.  It’s kind of funny that I should end up in such a position when I’ve spent my entire life swearing that I would never become a teacher like my mother.  And yet, the first job I get upon entering college is as a tutor.  Hmm. 

I don’t like teaching though.  I hate it.  I hate sitting there with an algebra book and explaining Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally.  I think it’s the most horrible and irritating thing to do, and as satisfying as it is when they learn it, I can’t help but think to myself, “This is wasting space in your brain.  Please forget it immediately upon finishing the test.”  But I love reading and editing there essays.  Well, I love it and I hate it.  I hate reading a senior’s admissions essay and seeing that they have the writing skills of a sixth grader.  I love trying to work with them to explain why I made the changes I made and seeing some glimmer of understanding.  I love working with them to find something meaningful to write about.  I hate that four fifths of my efforts are in vain because they really don’t care about writing and just want to do what they have to in order to be admitted.

Somehow, that one or those two kids who actually enjoy writing and excel at it make my other efforts worth teh struggle.  I remember going through the stack of essays I had to correct and coming upon one that was just so creative and so well written.  I think my student was surprised by how excited I was to talk about the essay and I hope all the purple writing over it wasn’t discouraging, but I wanted so much to make it the best it could be.  It’s one thing for me to go over an essay and try to make it somewhat legible.  It’s another when I’m trying to make it outstanding.

Well, I think I just determined which job is more rewarding.  I’m actually kind of excited to get back to that job and start helping the new seniors with their applications.  Fall semester is my favorite part of the job!  Anyway, now that I’ve come to that conclusion I think it’s a good time to call it a night.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Fiction Friday: A Coffee Date

- Well. Did you love her at least?
- Of course I loved her. What do you think?
- Well, I don’t know. Why is it such an absurd question?
- We spent seven months together. Seven months and I never cheated on her once.
- Seven months is nothing. Not even a blink.  I narrowed my eyes at Tania, but she only blinked back.

- Maybe it wasn’t love. But it was something.

Fiction Friday

So, I wrote this story during my break on Friday and I got really busy and didn’t have time to type it and post it.  I’m going to begin doing so now, but I figured I’d give a warning first.  It’s not written that great, and it’s kind of boring but maybe it can turn into something. We’ll see

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

Lying

Have you ever straight up lied about something that has a big part of who you are but you didn’t want to share that part of yourself with someone else?  And its this horrible feeling that develops vocal cords and starts screaming at you, “Why are you ashamed?! Why do you need to impress this person?!” And you don’t.  You know you don’t have to.  You probably don’t even like this person.  In fact, the exact reason you lied to this person is probably the same reason you don’t like this person, but instead of laying it all out on the table for them you stuff it up your sleeve. 

I did this tonight and it makes me so angry with myself because for anyone else I wouldn’t have.  Not the most powerful living being in the entire world; I would not have lied, and yet I was too chicken shit to admit this truth.

The truth is I’ve dated girls.  I’ve had sex with them too.  And I liked it.

I will probably do it some more.

With Alotta Love,

zee zee cakes

My bra is too tight