  I really should post more often, shouldn't I. For the past month or so I've been doing virtually nothing but reading, sleeping, eating, and the occasional visit to the Internet. Oh, laziness, you are my friend. But I feel like I should be doing something... I just can't figure out what I want to do. Hmph.
Oh well. Anyway, that more or less explains why I haven't been blogging: there's honestly nothing to write about. That being said, something vaguely interesting actually did happen on Saturday. My dad and I were sitting on the couch watching television when we heard a strange slapping noise from our enclosed porch. We went to investigate, and what did we find? At least seven or eight raccoons, a few of which were actually looking through our glass door.
Now, one would expect that as soon as my dad turned on the porch light the raccoons would scatter, right? Not so. They actually walked closer to the door. They were cautious , sure, but certainly not frightened. It was really crazy. My cat, Lil Z, was out on the porch with her front paws up against the door, staring the closest raccoon straight in the face.
A little background info on Lil Z: she never bites, scratches, hisses, growls, or anything like that. But when she saw those raccoons, she figured she might as well give that whole hissing thing a try. It was pretty funny. She wasn't very good at it - it sounded more like wheezing. Anyway, the raccoons eventually got either scared of us or bored with us, so they retreated and hid under our front steps. At this point, my other cat Zoe came out to the porch.
She bent down and sniffed at the crack beneath the door, caught the scent of the raccoons, and abruptly jumped up and slammed her front paws on the edge where the metal part of the door ends and the glass begins, if that makes any sense whatsoever. She did this about three or four times, making a surprisingly loud buh-dum noise each time. It was hilarious. Unfortunately, the raccoons did nothing more than poke their heads out from under the steps after that. On the plus side, though, my brother was out with friends and missed the whole thing. Poor loser.
(...Let's ignore for a moment the fact that I'm probably the loser here if I'm all excited over raccoons , instead of actually hanging out with friends...) Yeah, that was the highlight of my Saturday. I'd like to take this time to share with you a conversation between my dad and my brother which I found to be rather amusing: Andy and Dad are watching TV, and a birth control pill commercial comes on. Andy: Why don't cats have periods? Dad: Well, they do, if they're not fixed. Andy: But...why don't they have periods? Dad: They do.
They go into heat and stuff. Andy: Yeah, but why don't they poop blood? At this point Elm begins to mercilessly mock Andy. Dad: There is some blood spotting, yeah. Long pause. Andy: So why don't they make cat tampons?
Dad: Would you really want to insert... I'm sure I've pointed this out before, but I'll say it again: yes, my brother is twelve. Twelve. Golly gee whiz. Poop blood... So, I watched most of the Democratic National Convention, unlike most people my age (and probably Americans in general), I'm sure.
I'm crazy that way. But I am pretty interested. (For some reason I just had a crazy bit of deja vu, by the way. ) I still don't actually like Kerry all that much, but I dislike Bush enough that it really doesn't matter. Oh, can we really endure four more years of Bush? I shudder just thinking about it.
The best part of the convention was, without a doubt, when Kerry's daughter Alex told about the time that Kerry performed CPR on a hamster. (Sadly, it was not mouth to mouth. ) Seriously, people, that's the kind of person we want in the White House. Agreed? On a completely different note, I had no idea until recently that JoJo is thirteen. I just figured she was a really small seventeen-year-old or something.
Thirteen. I mean, seriously, that's like a little baby. Oh, I remember when I was thirteen... Ahem. Yeah, that was pretty random, but I just thought I'd share. The movie Footloose is the best evidence we have of God's existence. (Don't ask where that came from - I can't even remember now...) So, summer is winding down to a close.
Not counting today, I have twenty days left until school starts yet again. And, I must admit, I'm sort of looking forward to it. But it's sort of complicated, because I know that I'm not actually looking forward to the whole year. I really hate school, honest to goodness. I'm just anticipating that very first day. It's always fresh, exciting - something new.
I like that. I really enjoy the change. But eventually the novelty will wear off, and then school will suck as it usually does. My strategy is to keep the novelty in my mind for as long as possible. I went to the bookstore on Wednesday. Oh, how I love that place.
I would really love to work there in high school. Anyway, I managed to buy five books for just over twenty-five dollars: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners by James Joyce, Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau, Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (did I possibly get that right? ), and Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe. Yeah, lots of nice cheap classics at the Barnes and Noble. Great happiness for a nerdy loser-freak like myself. Oh, joy!
Anyway, I'm currently reading Portrait by Joyce, and it's... very different, very well-written, and somewhat dull, in my humble opinion. But I'm almost done, and according to my dad Dubliners is much better. Oh, god. My brother is down stairs watching Lizzie McGuire. Really, call me crazy, but when there's nothing good on TV I tend to just turn the damn thing off. Oh, he just switched to Rugrats.
Or maybe All Grown Up. I can't tell. Ah, life... Well, that's just about all I have to say. So, here's a moderately lengthy and intensely boring entry just specially for you...and you and you and anyone else who wants it. Smiles. 
