Saturday, August 06, 2005

Welcome to my world!- Don't you love sarcasm...



Let's see. Hello, I am Rayne. That's not really my name, but every start needs a proper introduction. Usually I don't do any of this live journal/blog/thingamabob crap, but as the days wind down towards the beginning of school, I find myself in desperate need of getting things off my mind. There is also another reason. I recently commented in an "Avril Lavigne Future Now?" due to frustration and found myself ranting as I tend to do. Call it a writer's habit. But someone named Bob A. Booey (who I would like to thank for the compliment) suggested that I start a blog up since I seemed to be pretty good for a fourteen year old. Yes, I am a fourteen year old girl, starting high school in...nine days. So, I started one. There, proper introduction done. I think for this first post, I will discuss a topic that has, frankly, ticked me off, for lack of a better word.

While I was on vacation, my mother was talking to my grandmother about when she went to New York for one of her fancy ass trips. My parents are divorced, I moved back in with my dad, and my mom is making sure to spend as much money as she can while my sister and I are out of her hair. So, she went with my step-father to New York, got an expensive hotel, and further more, went to see the Lion King. If you read my post on the Avril Lavigne topic, you will know that I love musicals, operas, things that people wouldn't really pin on me. But if you didn't, now you know. Needless to say, I got mad that I didn't get to go. But I think I was lucky for if I did, I would have started a massacre. There is nothing more that bugs me than the death of proper etiquette in situations that call for it. And if you go to a Broadway Show in cut shorts, flip-flops, and a halter top, then you deserved to be shot and then have your corpse hit by a taxi cab.


For once, I was proud of my mother.

She knew to dress nicely. That means clothing period. A halter top is not clothing, it is a piece of fabric wrapped around your chest and is more useful as a bra or a wash rag. Has society sunk so low that everyone takes for granted a show as great as these. Whenever I go to see Wicked in Dallas, I am dressing nicely. In black, but nicely. That means my dress pants, my boots (which are the only nice shoes I have), and my nice black japanese shirt. It is a nice CIVILIZED outfit and is good for going to something as great as that. If it were Phantom of the Opera, then believe me, I would be in an actual DRESS. So please, STOP WEARING LINE CLOTHS TO THEATRE PROGRAMS! It is improper and would probably just get you shot by me. And I have excellent aim. If any of you have never heard of these or even listened to great musicals like Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, Rent, Lion King, or Les Miserables, then please, get onto Napster or go buy the soundtracks, or something. But just keep an open mind to things like these. Or even better, rent the movie Phantom of the Opera and when the movie Rent comes out to the big screen, see it. For now, that is all. I'll see you in later posts! Ciao.


-Rayne AKA Queen of Aces and Spades

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