Sticky Post
"I am a pathfinder, an original settler."
First of all,
you can never win the battle with cereal.
Your eyes take a gander, because they are curious,and their dumb-asses had to go look at the silly thing. I have spotted it, and I want it. My mouth can already taste it. I cannot break away. My eyes personal favorite is Fruit Loops. That bright red box-hook, line&sinker's them every time.
Also, have you noticed your milk::cereal loop ratio is always off??
You can never get it right. Either you have too much milk, or too much cereal.
You pour the milk first and the cereal in second, you have more milk than cereal. Because it will take less cereal to get to the brim of the cereal bowl.
You pour the cereal in and then the milk, you have too little milk. Because the cereal hits the brim of the bowl sooner.
It always amazes me;
How many people really eat their cereal loops the same??
And then, upon sitting down and pondering this question, I realized;
None.
There are no two cereal eaters alike. Each eat cereal in their own way. way. Not much unlike fingerprints.
GENERAL TYPES:
(notice:each style is poked and prodded, by every individual, to become something characteristic to their molder. no person truly matches another's style of cereal loop eating.)
(1) they like to eat only the starch dry cereal loops. he swoops down into the bowl to catch a little bit of milk, to help get that glob of cereal down his throat, and a whole 4 layers of cereal. now, these eaters have a uncommon technique to their spooning habits. they dip in with their spoon, only to tug up. they start their bowl off with eating a hole in the center of the dancing cereal loops. from there they dive below the surface and pull up the fruit at a couple of different positions and angles before he pulls up with a spoonful of wholesome goodness.
(2) they like the cereal loops to be half and half. half dry; half wet.
(3) they like their cereal loops to be just slightly wet; so they slide their spoons down into the bowl only to push the cereal loops down beneath the surface. There are numerous amounts of degrees of soggy; so, i cannot even begin to explain, but these people tend to get their cereal loops out of the milk feeling slimy. To each his own degree of that slime.
(4) they like their cereal loops completely and utterly soggy. now, there are two ways to do this.
(a)let them chill out on the surface of milk your bowl has created until they have sunk.
(b)constantly take your spoon and mash down before you scoop in to get the cereal loops. with each spoonful, more cereal loops get soggy.
And after all is said and done, you still have to drink what is left of the milk. It is always a different experience. Different amount of milk, different amount of sugar left in the milk, and the difference of sugar left on the bowl. It is never the same twice.
Things to hate about cereal
besides always beating you at the milk::cereal loop ratio, they get stale too quickly!
I HATE STALE CEREAL LOOPS!!
UGH.
That is all I wanted to say.
That is what inspired me to sit down to my computer, and take the whole :44minutes I have to stragetically place my words in this intriqute web of the explainations of the universe (this episode just happens to be on the Wonders of People Eating Cereal Loops Methods'). I took all of that time to tell you that I Hate Stale Cereal Loops!
And my head it twisting itself around a new topic of how there is always just the tiniest layer of cereal loops left at the bottom of the box every time. It is a two-sided sword. You hate it because it means that you go through the effort to get together the bowl and the milk only to have 4 spoonfuls. Sometimes you live it because of all the extra sugar, and flavor, and whatnot, come pouring into your bowl, creating a gooey pile of sludge. But sometimes you hate it because of that gloopy sugar and other flavors, and whatnots, being in your bowl.
Anyway, I have been here :44minutes, excuse me, :47 minutes now, pecking away at the keys, fighting myself in my brain (i have been in utter agony (i can feel myself twirling off onto every whim that blows across my brain's control rooms' theatre screen; and, as a result, fretting over how i am going to loop it all back together into the initial topic, so that i do not sound dumb. it has been tugging away at me, sometimes the right side is winning, sometimes, the left. but i do not know the difference between either side. i only know who is winning the
Tug-0-Barney!
Tug-A-War!!), only to tell you all that insignificant 4 word kindergarten- sentence.
You just had to go around the ass to bring to them now, what you tried to say simply, :49 minutes ago, Ashley Barney, didn't you?
You all have all probably figured this out for yourselves, so this enrite entry has been written in vein.
Oh, Please leave me your thoughts, so I know I spread the wisdom of people' methods of eating cereal loops. Pretend I am not the last one to figure this out, and leave me a comment letting me know how amazed you are at my awesomeness.
Stale Cereal is Stupid!
and gross!!
AshleyBarney.
1hr.&28minutes.
Including: spell check and revisions.
Including: spell check and revisions.
I can never be around these certain people and stay mad or sad.
It is impossible. You try it. I dare you.
I am just so happy that my life is finally headed this way.
My puzzle is falling into place.
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sure I am ramballing on, but I know what I mean.
I am dumb&nieve. I would think I could learn; but I let my fascade down for one moment, just to let a sliver of sunlight touch my face, and the whole prison falls down on me.
Stupid AshleyBarney.
I did not know I was looking for a mentor; but it was just what I needed. She is just what I needed.
She does not know it. She is gruent! (that is the words great&good combined; incase you did not know.)
Really though. People wonder round, aimelessly, searching for someone who can support them. They need an adult, a security blanket. I still carry mine around. People need someone to tell them what to do and what not to do. To let them know when they are acting dumb or when they need to let their personality shine through. I have that, finally.
My trio will beat your trio anyday. We are going to buy out an entire side of Mallory Street and franchize our shit. It is okay, you can be jealous. There is no way you could not be.
My hair is turning colors. Jen is fixing me up pretty. You can be jealous of that too. You will be; so just go ahead and be.
silly Bright Eyes___they have a song for every senerio. Happy, Sad. Rainy, Gay. Racing, Chilling.
I grow like a fungus. copyright ashleybarney
She has me hooked on energy drinks|i am corrupted.
My fingers have nothing left to type. TheEnd
It cost us 6 quarters/each=$1.50/each
It gave us a timer of 4:00 minutes.
On the instructions it says to turn the knob to each thing you want it to do, or whatever. So we start it up and the time starts running out. So we are frantically scrubbing and trying to wash and, ugh, it was shear chaos. We were screaming, getting wet and shit. We did not get our cars very clean.
after the fact of all this, I figure out that there is a stop button!!
And that you are supposed to push it inbetween steps so that you had time to scrub and such. I initially thought it would stop your time completely. But I saw a mexican and he started washing his car right before I did and he was still going when we got done with orly's.
Oh I was so pissed at myself for not figuring that out sooner. What a waste of money.
Anyway, I guess you had to be there. But it was fun nontheless. And that was my first car washing experience. Maybe I should have brought an adult along?? Or someone with some know how.
All of this only means I have to try it again some other time. BEFORE it gets too cold.
Next time I am bring a guy along for reallll__
these UGLY, old, fat, redneck guys kept whistling and shit. I guess because I had on a skirt? I do not know, that had to be it, because it could not have been my face, huh Silly Boys?! Haha.
Seriously though, that bothers the shit out of me.
COMING SOON: A TRIBUTE TO ME AND ORLY'S JIG-SAW PUZZLE NIGHT<333
Only for a little while. Enough for me to clear my head.
I am not in some major turning point of my life, I have not had some gigantic awakening; I have been craving for this cleansing cycle for a long time.
But I have responsibilities. Not big ones, but responsibilities nontheless. There is school, and ...., nope, that is about it. But still, I need to finish that before I can run away.
Is it pathetic that I have to plan my "running away time" ?? It sounds that way.
Why am I even writting, when nobody puts their two cents in on my issues? I do not know that one either. I could convince myself that this electronic journal I type bits of my life into is a release. An outlet for me to think onto paper, or the computer screen. If I only wrote to myself, it would only be thinking. And I do that a lot. I can organize my thoughts in my head, but I like to think someone cares enough to read me. If that is the case, I do not know. But I hope so. I hope some anonymous person, atleast, reads my entries. Or else this is pointless.
But it is not pointless. It allows me to see my words. Thoughts I think are no longer floating around in my head. They are put out there for someone to read and sympathize with. Whether that happens or not is another story.
I guess it just gives me a sense of purpose when I let my fingers peck away at the keyboard. Completely surrendering me to myself; and to the world, And it's judgement upon me.
Too bad I know no one is judging me. because someone has to read me and my thoughts, straight from this brain of mine, however smart or not it may be.
I have no real reason to run away. It is not like I have a hard-knock life. Or a horrible story to tell. It is just mine. Nothing special.
I lie to myself. I convince myself that things are worse than they actually are, so I can tell someone else that I do have a reason for feeling the way that I do.
But I do not have a reason. I am simply confused. The usual teenage drama? I do not know.
All I know is I do not know my true favorite food. I do not know my favorite song. I do not like any one particular genre of music.
I do not climb trees just to be alone. I climb trees so people will look at me. So they think I am doing it just to do it, because it is something I wanted to do when in all actuality, I am up there pretending to read a book in a tree. I am really thinking about what people are thinking about about me. Does that make sense?
It does to me. And that should be all that matters. But it is not. I do not care for my own compliments. My own pat on the back. Myself does not matter to me. But not like that. I could not go to a remote village in Africa and be happy with what I am acclompishing there unless someone acknoglodged me and my work.
My sister has a gayyy laugh. She is in the other room. And everytime I hear her snicker, or throw her head back, and squint her eyes, and break her gaze away from the television so that she can literally THROW her head back and let out a high-pitched, shreaky, completely unnecessary laugh, I want to stranggle her. She has to make a sound after everything.
Somebody give me a fork to stick in her. She's done.
I have nothing to do today, but to sit out in the other room, the room where the television is, and my half hiyenna sister, and watch the idiot box.
I am not fishing for a line or anything. I do not want someone calling me up tonight and saying, "would you like to go do something. I read your livejournal." Because that would be pity. Pathetic pity. Although pity sounds nice, I know when it is pity. I know it is not genuine, and that takes away from it all. You can call me, but not out of pity.
It is like when you beat your father at a board game, and you know he let you win, it does not mean the same as when actually beat him. I used to throw a fit if I thought my father let me have the win.
I am still trying to beat him at othello and backgammon.
I do not know. I do not know. I do not know. With the way I use that phrase, you would think it would be my senior quote, or part of my ulugee, or on my grave stone. It would probably read something like this:
Barney
We Do Not Know Much About Her
Because She Did Not Know Herself.
But We Do Know That She Did Not Know.
My fingers are tightening and my wrists hurt from resting against this desk. goodnight.
Will today just be another lazy Sunday? Or will something amazing spawn off and create yet another memory for me to remenice upon when I am eighty?
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