ABORT ABORT!

I'm not talking about aborting a mission or anything, I'm just trying to be inconspicuous. I doubt it worked, if you really know me.

Or if you think I'm a heathen.

But yeah, I kind of hate it when I see bumper stickers on people's cars that are like "Choose life! Your mom did!" Yeah? Well who really wants to be like their Mothers? Hmmm? Not me! Fuck that! If you're going to say that, that makes me go "I'm going to abort every child I get impregnated with, because I don't want to be like my Mother. Up yours."

It doesn't work. At a glance, it does, but if you think about it, it doesn't. Or the ones with the supposedly "cute" babies on them that have something to do with being pro-life? I hate babies, so that is going to have the opposite effect that it's supposed to have on me. My brain will be going into kill mode. Next baby I see? Dead. 

Seriously, don't put bumper stickers on your car with your beliefs on them. Unless it's funny or neutral, or something about where your kid goes to school, then don't put it on your car. It's a good thing I can't drive, because I know I would have road rage. And it would be so much worse when I see your stupid pro-life stickers. You know what I'm going to do? Ram your fucking car. Put that shit on a sign in your garden. I'm not going to burn your house down, but I will ram your car. The "Coexist" ones are ok. The ones that are funny aren't just ok, they're bueno. But the political beliefs ones? It's a bad idea. You could get your car keyed, or rammed, or blown up. My sister's roommate is worried that her car is going to get keyed because she has a pro-choice bumper sticker on her car. I like her for this reason. Good choice in bumper stickers. Unfortunately, she's a feminist, and frankly, I believe in making the delicious bacon and turkey sandwiches for your husbands/boyfriends. I generally don't get along with feminists.
But she's cool.

It's seriously dangerous to do that, because not everyone is going to believe the same things you do. Like don't put political things on your car. And don't put religious things on your car. I'm infuriated by stupidity, so don't do that. It's stupid to advertise it so publicly.

Your car will get blown up.

The only antidote? A carstache.

Now your car is safe. 

Names

I just thought of this because there was a little ad on the side thingy of facebook saying "Where are the jobs, Mr. Boehner?" or something like that. I just saw the name and thought is that pronounced the way I think it's pronounced? And then I actually googled it. Unfortunately, it is not, in fact pronounced 'boner', but 'bayner'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcaSe9O-y04

I think he's lying to himself.

I used to really hate my name. 'Callan'. It's so weird. I know three other Callans, and I'm related to two of them. The other one I just randomly met one time in Wyoming and I never saw him again. It was cool though. The two I'm related to are my cousins, Man Callan, and Boy Callan. I am Girl Callan.

I have a dude name.

I really wanted my name to be Beatrix, and I still really like that name, and if I ever have a child - and don't kill it, of course - that is what I would name her. I don't want a boy. Boys aren't fun to dress up. I really just want a doll.. I wanted to adopt for a long time, and before that, I wanted like six of my own children, called Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, Basil, Ginger, and Paprika. Then I changed my mind because I realised that though those are pretty names, they're fucking weird. Paprika? Oregano? Thyme?
Then I decided on Beatrix, Elizabeth, Victoria and Temperance. Temperance is my favourite name. Then Beatrix.

But then I decided I hated children. So.

For a while, I wanted to be called by my middle name, Marion, and I actually insisted my friend call my Marion for a while. The French way, FYI. It was weird, so we stopped.

My sister calls me Waldo. That I like. Good name. Or small troll. I don't like that as much, but I laugh anyway.

I'm good humoured about insults. I have some friends that are really sensitive and hot headed that blow up at the slightest provocation, and steam about it for days. I'm just like "eh" and I move on.

Unless they're really bitchy. Like that dick... ummm... Bob. Yes. Bob. That will do. I fucking hate Bob. What a dick.

I got a comment on my youtube page though the other day that still pisses me off a little bit. Some guy noticed I put a comment on the new Michael Jackson single with Akon saying "629 PEOPLE CAN SUCK MY PENIS. THIS IS AMAZING". You know.. because 629 people disliked it. So he went on my page and said "No wonder u like MJ so fuckin much you look like him when he was young you big nose bitch". *ahem*

So I went on his page and noticed that all his favourite videos were of sexy girls dancing. I used this to my advantage. "i see all your favourites are of women you will never have sex with. even though i like my nose, i can get rhinoplasty. you can't fix creepy! :)". Or something. I just went on his page to check the accuracy. He deleted my comment.

Pussy.

Dreams

First off, I would like to mention something that irritates me. Freshman year, I had to create a blog for my English class. We didn't use it, but I named it CrazyDavesDominatrix, because I was a weird Freshman. And now, every time I get on this site, it decides to log me on as that instead of CallanFailFrequentlally, and it's annoying.

My dominatrix days are over.

Anyway, back to the subject of the blog: dreams.

My sleep in general is weird. Like when I have a sleep-over, I'm usually told the next morning that I did bizarre things in my sleep, like have sex with them.

I'm kidding of course. That only happened once.

But last week-end, I slept over at my friend Megan's house, and the next morning she told me that at about 3 in the morning, I just sat up and said "What is that? What. What. What. What." for about a minute, and then just lay down and was asleep.

And I have sleep-walked before. I got up, knocked on Mother's bedroom door, when back in my room, into my bathroom, locked the door, and did nothing. I had woken Mother up, and eventually I came out, and she put me back in bed.

But then, there are my dreams. They're really weird. Like the one where I had to take 20 strawberries from a black girl with a basket full of raspberries.

ON A SEPARATE NOTE: I was reminded of this when I typed raspberries, and there were little red dots under it because I forgot the 'p'. Am I the only one that has spelled it rasberries for ever, and then was completely weirded out by the presence of this ghostly 'p'?

Back to dreams. Last night, I got up at 6, because I had a dream that there were a bunch of people from different schools (therefore different schedules) living in my house, and they used my bathroom to get ready. I decided in my semi-consciousness that I might as well get up, because I wasn't going to be able to sleep through the sound of like 20 girls getting ready in my bathroom.

Even though I require a 113 decibel alarm clock to wake me up... My semi-consciousness is kind of an idiot.

I used to have night terrors, like the kind that would make me sit up and scream in the middle of the night. But those went away, and then they kind of came back for a while, and then they went away. I don't like scary dreams...

I also had really bizarre dreams as a child, like the kind that I could feel. The falling one is very common, but I also had this one where I was really really tiny in this room with a circle of gigantic monks around me, and the ropes holding their robes up were hanging on the ground, and I, being miniscule, tried to climb them, and then was traumatised by the echo-ing booms of their voices, so whenever I hear that kind of sound, even though that dream was like 12 years ago, I get scared.

This probably isn't very interesting to you, but I like my dreams... When they're amusing.

I will now tell you an amusing one. 


So I'm in the mall with Mother, and we go in to what looks like Banana Republic, and I'm shopping for some jeans.
I go to the jeans table, and this assistant lady comes and asks if I need any help, and since she's very irritating and persistant, I just grab 3 and run to the changing rooms. I realise I accidentally grabbed 3 bell bottoms, though I wanted skinny jeans, but in an effort not to face the irritating sales assistant again, I just go in.
But the changing rooms are like a lounge of sorts, because there are plushy chairs in the rooms, and in the one I selected, there's a young guy talking to an old guy. .. It's awkward, so I leave.
Then I'm looking for my purse, and there's an old guy having a heart attack in the chair I left it in, but then he's ok, and he gets up, but the purse.. it's gone! I ask the assistant if she's seen it and she says "Yes thank you".

If you enjoy my dreams, I can tell you more, but if you find them boring, tell me, and I'll stop haha

Not sure what to talk about, so I'll ramble

So, it's been a while, and I feel like I'm neglecting you five. But I don't really have anything in particular to blog about.

OH. Ok, so in music, at the end of the quarter I had a big test, but I was busy vomiting, so I missed it, and then he counted it as a zero on the test, because I couldn't make it up in time. Because I was vomiting. So I get my report card, and I freak out because there is a big fat D where there should be a B. Now I've made up the test, and I have a B again. But it really pissed me off! Dick move, Dr. W!

It's a penis, but a potato too. 

MMK ALSO Homecoming was last week-end, and I got asked by a-certain-person-that-I-don't-like-in-that-way and I grimaced and shook my head because I fucking hate dancing, and I would have been a terrible date, because I would have just glared at him the whole time for taking me to such a piece of shit, and also it would have been awkward. I was kind of flattered, because I get asked out rather infrequently, so yeah, but then even that got taken away from me because he asked someone else and she rejected him, so she recommended that he ask me because she thought I liked him. Wat. No. Fuck that. I'm not a second choice. I'm fucking awesome. And I felt all bad about rejecting him, and explained later that I really hate dances and stuff, but NO. I SHOULDN'T FEEL BAD. Dick.
Still, he's pretty nice.
I like someone else anyway :3
Sorry that came off as bitchy, but I'm kind of pissed off about it!
But then, we had a cross country meet the day of the dance, and I was all "Oh I'm not going. Fuck that shit." but then my dad has to do something and Mother has a cello lesson, so they can't pick me up, leaving me with no other option, but to go to homecoming with a team-mate. So I went and it was lame, so I went home after an hour and a half, and I hope I didn't make anyone feel bad, I just wanted to go home and be antisocial.
Anyway. Last week wasn't great.

I hope he doesn't read this. Shit.

Whatever. FEEL BAD ASSHOLE. (bitch Callan)

I'm just kidding. (good Callan)

NO I'M NOT WHAT THE FUCK. (bitch Callan)

YES YOU ARE NOW SHUSH. (good Callan)

I have two personalities if you were wondering. One interacts solely with adults and strangers(Good Callan) and the other with people I'm comfortable with (Bitch Callan).

Bitch Callan is someone to fear.

But generally, I'm a mix of the two. Unless I'm in class. But if I'm not that I have a  mouth so foul you would be surprised, because I look like Good Callan. Bitch Callan looks like a total dick.

I'm sorry person-I-rejected, but that was Bitch Callan. Good Callan would just ignore it, but Bitch Callan is pissed off.

Good Callan is just going to implode someday, I swear. She pushes all the shit that happens that pisses her off deep down inside her, and when the day comes that she implodes, there will be ONLY BITCH CALLAN. Oh yes.

Now I'm not making any sense. It's 11:30, and I'm shit tired. I still have homework to do.

Fuck.

Eh, there's very little. I'll do it this week-end. I never have much homework on week-ends, so whatever. Plus I'm going to miss minimum the first 2 classes tomorrow and the day after since I'm redoing my AIMS test for the purpose of exceeding. Then on friday, I'm not going to school because I have Cross Country regionals which are really scary because they take place at this total bitch of a place called Freestone Park and it's just hills and grass. We ran it on Monday, and it was so bad I couldn't do it, so I sat it out, and then it brought bad my mother-fucking shin splints on top of the pain in my hip. *sigh* I swear that sport makes me an old lady. I like it though, I'm doing it again next year. Then I'm doing soccer and track.

Now I'm really tired, and I'm out of stuff to sa- OH WAIT.

I just want to say Adam Ant is extremely sexy.

I want in his pants. 

Ok, bye.

THIS IS ONLY FOR PEOPLE THAT FIND HUMOUR IN HORRIBLE THINGS.

Disclaimer: Don't read this if you're sensitive. Or pro life. 

Shit like Family Circus doesn't make me laugh. That makes milk crawl up my nose. Like there's one, where the little ginger girl with the ponytail is standing in a field looking at a butterfly, and she says "I like butterflies. They don't sting or bite, they just flutter". What the fuck?
The caption should have been "Oooh shit, I thought that enema would never come out". (I stole that, just so you know.. from http://www.cracked.com/blog/pg13-family-circus/ it's hilarious.) Anyway, if you read that, you'll know I have a sick, sick sense of humour.

I love dead baby jokes. And abortion jokes. And racist jokes. It's pretty easy to make me laugh. Unless you write Family Circus.

This is a request from Alexia, asking "Do a blog about your abortion jokes!". I don't have any abortion jokes. I have a joke that is about both dead babies and abortions.

Here goes.

Q: What's red and crawling up your leg?
A: An abortion with homesickness.

Q: How do you fit 30 babies in a bucket?
A: A blender.
Q: How do you get them out?
A: Doritos.

Q: What's more fun than swinging a baby around at 250 mph on a clothes line?
A: Stopping it with a shovel.

Q: Why did the foetus cross the road?
A: Because they moved the dumpster.

Q: How do you make a dead baby float?
A: Take your foot off its head.

Q: Why did the baby fall out of the tree?
A: Because it was dead!

Q: How do you stop a baby from choking?
A: Take your dick out of its mouth!

Q: What is special about a dead baby over all other forms of life?
A: You can achieve deep throat from whichever way you enter.

Q: Why did the baby cross the road?
A: It was stapled to the chicken.

Q: What do you get when you cut a baby into pieces?
A: An erection.

Q: What's the worst thing about having sex with a dead baby?
A: Wiping the blood off your clown suit.

I fucking told you.

P.S. I stole ALL of this from http://www.dead-baby-joke.com/dbj_022.htm

Going to the Doctor

Ok, so if you didn't know, I have a terrible, terrible fear of needles. They are the scariest thing in the world. Except sometimes when I'm laying in my bed, and the stupid part of my subconscious (which takes up rather a lot of my brain) decides to whisper to the rest of my brain "Hey, I bet Saduko/Slender Man/the possessed girl from the Exorcist is standing right next to your bed". Fuck you, subconscious.
Anyway, back to the needles. I'm pretty sure this dates back to when I was getting a flu shot around the age of.... 7-ish, and Mother decided to get the shot first so I could see what happened, and that it didn't hurt. The only thing that registered in my mind was "There is a sharp thing penetrating my mother's arm, and it's about to do the same to me". Instinct? RUN! But no, I was smarter than that.

And then, another time, I went on a class trip to Greece with my Latin class (when I lived in London, right before I moved), and just so you know, apart from this one incident, it was absolutely amazing. Anyway, I tripped and fell on some gravel one day, because my balance isn't so hot when it's like 40 degrees out. Very hot. For a Londoner, mind you. Anyway, it actually took Mme Ratureau telling me there was blood running down my neck for me to find out I had cut my chin. Ordinarily, my pain threshold is extremely low, so this was strange. Shock? Hmm... So we went to the local hospital, and the doctor wanted to put a big fucking needle in my face. Well not my face, like under my chin, where no one can see. The scar is not visible unless you look pretty closely, luckily. But this man, who I didn't know, that didn't speak English or French, wanted to *convulses at the thought of what he wanted to do* put stitches in me, AKA sew me up with a needle. After injecting me with a needle. My mind was going FUCK THAAAT and later, my friend Maddie was telling me that she legitimately got scared looking into my eyes, because I was so fucking terrified.

So yeah, those were the reasons why I hate needles. And then, I found out last year that I have to get 3 HPV shots. This is pretty much my worst nightmare. Three. I got the first one in November (what a great birthday present) (my birthday is in November if you didn't get that.......), and pretty much punched the nurse. It's not even the pain, it didn't hurt at all. But screw the idea of putting sharp things in my body. This is why I'm so scared to get pierced ears. Though I want them, because otherwise Mother will have to give all her pretty earrings to my brother's wife when she dies. Because he'll have one someday. But don't think I'm morbid or wishing for my Mother's death, though she is a tad aggravating, but this is actually how she's trying to get me to pierce them. But I had to go to the hospital for a physical so I could do Cross Country about 3 weeks ago, and "while I was there" Mother thought it would be a good idea for me to get a flu and HPV shot. Luckily, they do flu shots in some nasal thing, so that was fine, but I flat out refused to get the HPV shot. Then my nurse pulled out this book and said "This girl came in a few years ago, and also only got one shot. Two years later she came in with genital warts." Frankly, that didn't scare me all that much, because I intend to be celibate for a while longer (not till marriage or anything, I don't plan to marry either), because you know... pregnancy and stuff. I hate babies, but I don't really want an abortion, though I joke about them all the time. All the time. 


But Mother seemed to be under the impression that I was going to aspire to be a hooker/stripper/sket when I was older, so she kept threatening me with genital warts.
I was pretty much ready to get the goddam injection just to make her stop saying genitals warts. I've told you before, I don't discuss these things with my Mother, though she tries. Sometimes. 


And it's profusely awkward. 

NAKEDNESS

If I'm not in the bath, I detest being naked. It's not that I hate my body or anything, not that I'm the I'm an image of perfection or anything, but yes. If I'm not in my bathroom, I refuse to be naked. At the very least, a towel is required, if I must make a run to my conjoined bedroom to get pyjamas. I don't even have to go through a hallway, it's my bathroom, and it's connected to my room. But I have this constant paranoia that mother will do her knock-twice-and-not-wait-for-my-acquiesence-before-opening-the-door thing. She terrifies me in that way. I'm also always terrified that she will turn off the router. Because she does. Every night. Because she doesn't seem to realise that the internet is super awesome, and I like it. Though it does get me to bed earlier.

Anyway, so a while back, a bunch of my friends were liking things like "Being naked" or "chillin naked after showers because you're too lazy to get dressed". I thought "WELL, I hate being naked. Surely there's a group/fanpage for that!"... nope. Apparently, everyone enjoys being in their birthday suits but me.

I can't be the only one! I'm merely shy! It's just the way I was raised. My mother and father make me feel like I should wear a nun's garb all the time. More my father than my mother, because she's more of a fashionista. My dad's greatest fear is that I'll become a typical valley girl that chews gum all the time, says "like" every two words and worst of all: wear short shorts with tank tops and flip flops.

I can't say I would ever do that anyway, I'm not comfortable with shorts anyway. Too much leg. Plus, with the neverending sun of Arizona, I would get a tan.

I would look horrendous with a tan. Plus, I'm probably getting one from cross country anyway. I'd rather not add to it by not wearing anything. I mean, I just don't get the whole sunbathing thing. Tans are stupid. Tans = skin cancer. Skin cancer = no bueno.

If you're naturally dark, that's just fine, but if you're pale, I don't see the point of sitting in the sun all the time, or getting fake tans by going to salons/tanning booths.

But that's just my opinion. I guess some people would look terrible if they were pale.

Me in my glorious paleness.