The Paper Cake: When Will My Titles Stop Being So Dumb?

Monday, July 19, 2010

When Will My Titles Stop Being So Dumb?

I'm getting bored of not getting any comments. >.< It's nice to know you're writing these blogs for a purpose, and when you get comments then it seems as if there is a purpose. Man, I wish Tas and Anne would read my blog more. I read all of theirs. But I guess they don't post everyday. Or even every week. XD
Today I babysat again. I've been starting to realize that Rory says a lot of really dirty things, but obviously doesn't realize they're dirty. Then I start cracking up and she just smiles a little confusedly. It's pretty hilarious. I wonder if I'll still know her when she becomes a teenager? Probably not. But that'd be cool to see how much she would have grown up.
My sister, Jess, came to sleep over tonight. I'm on the computer blogging right now and she's on the couch beside me on her laptop. She's playing a game called Big City Diner. I told her to play it because I found it fun and really addicting. You should check it out too. :D We're also listening to music on my i-pod touch. Currently, it is Rude Boy by Rihanna. For some reason I want to type it whenever the song changes. But I don't think there will be enough song switches for it to be interesting... wow, I'm retarded. Ignore me. XD Nevermind, don't. Comment. 'Cause this is getting boring. Not really actually. I like writing a bunch of shit. It's kind of like a diary, but not a lot of really personal stuff. I guess I get pretty personal? Sorta. Wow, I went really off topic in this paragraph... I'll stop now.
Tomorrow, my sister and I are going to the mall so that she can spend the $300 she has in her pocket! :DD She's so cool. She said she'd buy me lunch and maybe even a book. I <3 her. *sings Madonna's Material Girl*
-song change to Imma Be by Black Eyed Peas-
I really like the song Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. It's a metal band, but I like any type of music as long as it's good. Anyway, the new music video for Nightmare is quite freaky. Apparently, it's all about the death of the drummer of the band (ODed of course). It's scary. My friend, Doug, almost cried when he watched it because the drummer was his idol. I can't picture him crying. :S
I wish my printer worked... I don't even know why. I have nothing to print. :P That was random. I guess it's 'cause I just looked at my printer.
The day after tomorrow I'm supposed to hang out with Martin. He hasn't been on msn lately and I still have to ask him what time he is going to come over and I need to give him my address. If it's still happening. :S I'd be upset if it wasn't because then I wouldn't be able to hang out with him again for a really long time. And it's already been like a year since we last hung out. Gayyy.
So my dad called today. Finally. Not that I care. My mom does. He's at my grandparents' house already. So he and Erik only spent like 3 days in Nelson... retarded much? But that's because the family that they were staying with were going to Salmon Arm anyway. I talked to my Granny on the phone. She misses me a lot and demands to see me sometime this summer. I love her. :') I'm going to see her at my Grandma Rodman's 90th birthday. :O So old! But she's still kicking good. :) I'll be sad when she dies. I'll cry definitely. I also talked to my cousin Shannon on the phone. Who also misses me. :P She had been tanning all day, or so she says. It made me slightly relieved because that means I'm not the only demented girly (demented because of risking cancer to get a tan). Except she used sunscreen... I didn't. XD But that's because I don't tan when I use sunscreen! Speaking of tanning, I did more today. I got more of a tan on my back now. Why does my back always tan perfectly but I always burn like a bitch on my front? Like, wtf.
-forgot to mention song change to When You Say You Love Me by Josh Groban, but turned the ipod off anyway to watch Memoirs of a Geisha with Jess... finally-
I still haven't worked on my story yet. Ughh, my idea isn't... what do you call it?... developed enough. There we go. I need to ponder it over more. Preferably when I'm not falling asleep. XD Maybe that's my problem. Bahaha. I should really make an outline. But I find my writing becomes more restricted when I do that. And I don't like having boundaries. I feel more free with no outline.
Well, I'm going to go watch Memoirs of a Geisha now.
Pce, I'm outty.
<3

4 comments:

ChayaJuly 21, 2010 at 1:34 PM
I read your blogs... I just happen to have a really laggy computer at my grandma's so I look at everything quickly and then get off.
ReplyDelete
Replies
The Paper CakeJuly 21, 2010 at 2:54 PM
Oh okay. X3 Glad to know someone reads them. :P
ReplyDelete
Replies
peebsJuly 21, 2010 at 8:29 PM
My laptop was being fixed remember? And now I have it.. but I don't have internet access cuz we're at my Cultus cabin of course :P
Well, obviously I do have some because I'm responding now, but only because Geoff's outside and I'm stealing his >:)
I responded to a few more.. but I always forget to do varify :/
I'm happy you're excited to see your family! It makes me feel less ditched ;P
You should wear sun screen hun. You don't want skin cancer, and you'll have nicer skin when you're older if you take care of it now. :)
ReplyDelete
Replies
The Paper CakeJuly 22, 2010 at 9:35 PM
Yeah I know it was being fixed. But still, that meant you weren't reading it.
I know I should wear sunscreen, but I never tan if I do!
ReplyDelete
Replies

Add comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Robot Boy

Mr. and Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.
They were a normal happy husband and wife.
One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.
Mrs. Smith would be a mom,
Which would make him the dad!
But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.
It wasn't human at all,
It was a robot boy!
He wasn't warm and cuddly
And he didn't have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
Not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all
Was with a long extension cord
Plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
"What have you done to my boy?
He's not flesh and blood,
He's aluminum alloy!"

The doctor said gently,
"What I'm going to say
Will sound pretty wild.
But you're not the father
Of this strange looking child.
You see, there still is some question
About the child's gender,
But we think that it's father
Is a microwave blender."

The Smith's lives were now filled
With misery and strife.
Mrs. Smith hated her husband,
And he hated his wife.
He never forgave her unholy alliance:
A sexual encounter
With a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy
Grew to be a young man.

Though he was often mistaken
For a garbage can.

~Tim Burton

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

He proposed in the dunes,
They were wed by the sea,
Their nine day long honeymoon
Was on the isle of Capri.

For their supper they had one spectacular dish -
A simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
Her bride's heart made a wish.

That wish came true -
She gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human?
Well, maybe.

Ten fingers, ten toes,
He had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
But normal?
Not quite.

This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
Was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.

She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."

"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
You cannot blame me.
... Have you ever considered, by chance,
A small home by the sea?"

Not knowing what to name him,
They just called him Sam,
Or sometimes,
"That thing that looks like a clam."

Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?

When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
They called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.

One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main.
He watched the rain water as it swirled
Down the drain.

His mom on the freeway,
In the breakdown lane,
Was pounding the dashboard -
She couldn't contain
The ever-rising grief,
Frustration,
And pain.

"Really, sweetheart," she said.
"I don't mean to make fun,
But something smells fishy
And I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
You're blaming our son for your problems in bed."

He tried salves, he tried ointments
That turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
And tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.

The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
But the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
Would help you do it for hours!"

He came on tiptoe,
He came on the sly.
Sweat on his forehead,
And on his lips - a lie.
"Son are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
But do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?"

Sam blinked his eye twice,
But made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.

As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.

The buried him quickly in the sand by the sea -
Sighed a prayer, wept a tear -
And they were back home by three.

A cross of grey driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
Promised Jesus would save.
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.

~Tim Burton

Mummy Boy

He wasn't soft and pink
With a fat little tummy;
He was hard and hollow,
A little boy mummy.

"Tell us, please, Doctor,
The reason or cause,
Why our gundle of joy
Is just a bundle of gauze."

"My diagnosis," he said.
"For better or worse,
Is that your son is the result
Of an old pharoah's curse."

That night they talked
Of their son's odd condition -
They called him "a reject
From an archaeological expedition."

They thought of some complex
Scientific explanation,
But assumed it was simple
Supernatural reincarnation.

With the other young tots
He only played twice,
An ancient game of virgin sacrifice.
(But the kids ran away, saying, "You aren't very nice.")

Alone and rejected, Mummy Boy wept,
Then went to the cabinet
Where the snack food was kept.

He wiped his wet sockets with his mummified sleeves,
And sat down to a bowl of sugar-frosted tanna leaves.

One dark, gloomy day,
From out of the fog,
Appeared a little white mummy dog.

For his newfound wrapped pet,
He did many things,
Like building a dog house
A la Pyramid of kings.

It was late in the day -
Just before dark.
Mummy Boy took his dog
For a walk in the park.

The park was empty
Except for a squirrel,
And a birthday party for a Mexican girl.

The boys and girls had al started to play,
But noticed that thing that looked like papier mache.

"Look, it's a pinata,"
Said one of the boys.
"Let's crack it wide open
And get the candy and toys."

They took a baseball bat
And whacked open his head.
Mummy Boy fell to the ground;
He finally was dead.

Inside of his head
Were no candy or prizes,
Just a few stray beetles
Of various sizes.

~Tim Burton

Stain Boy

Roy, the Toxic Boy

To those who knew him -
His friends -
We called him Roy.
To others he was known
As that horrible Toxic Boy.

He loved ammonia and asbestos,
And lots of cigarette smoke.
What he breathed in for air
Would make other people choke!

His very favourite toy
Was a can of aerosol spray;
He'd sit quietly and shake it,
And spray it all the day.

He'd stand inside the garage
In the early morning frost,
Waiting for the car to start
And fill him with exhaust.

The one and only time
I ever saw Toxic Boy cry
Was when some sodium chloride
Got into his eye.

One day for fresh air
They put him in the garden.
His face went deathly pale
And his body began to harden.

The final gasp of his short life
Was sickly with despair.
Whoever thought that you could die
From breathing outdoor air?

As Roy's soul left his body
We all said a silent prayer.
It drifted up to Heaven
And left a hole in the ozone layer.

~Tim Burton