OMIGOODNESS I FORGOT ABOUT ZEHRA!

So, Zehra's fantastical response to my survey questions was a wonderful, gorgeous, amazing picture. It is so special that it deserves a post of its own.

Tadah!

It's beautiful and amazing. She worked very hard on it, and that shows. You should all go to her blog, because it is quite wonderful. She is, too :D
-Gabi

I feel like a pale English person who burns easily. I guess I am, genetically. I also feel like one who perpetuates stereotypes.

I have learned a some things quite recently:
A) I seem to have atrocious taste in fonts, since nobody liked the one in my last post. Maybe I'll just give up and set all of my posts in papyrus, or comic sans, or even wingdings, and wait for the typists to come after me. Perhaps my particular font choice last time had to do with me secretly loving Turing (my first proper programming language) and its ugly fonts. 
B) One should only be weird to a certain degree around new people. Hiding under shelves wearing Real-D 3D glasses, a funny wig, and a creepy mask is not the best approach to hide and go seek when there is a guy the same age as you around. Some things can, in fact, cross the big red line of social appropriateness. Large nerd-style glasses do not mean instantaneous friendship. Not that I'm writing based on experience at all. 
C) When one claims that s/he and  his/her sibling can hear voices, and that it's a "genetic thing", people often believe you if their only other impression of you is of a teenager playing dress-up and hiding under shelves.
D) Announcing afterwards that one is going to "be normal from now on!" doesn't work too well.
E) Even after doing actions B to D, one can still be well-liked at Friday night dinners if the stars are properly aligned. 


**********************************************
For some reason, I agreed to walk over to a family friend's house to babysit his child while he went out on a Saturday evening before Shabbat ended. When I got there, wet from the rain, the kid was asleep, which was good. One problem: He left the TV on. Since it wouldn't have felt quite right to ask him to turn it off for me, and I can't turn on and off or adjust appliances until after sundown, I would be having a nice (?) TV background on until later that night. It was fine for a while, and I read my books in a corner. Then, of course, came the creepy music. I was sitting alone in a largish house with The Silence of the Lambs playing in a dim room. I spent the next 2 hours hiding in the brightly lit kitchen with the family dog, listening to the screams of helpless victims. 


On to less wimpy things!
I have recieved
SCHOLARLY GABI: 'I' BEFORE 'E' EXCEPT AFTER 'C', SCURRILOUS KNAVE!
received some sort of award from Lola. I do not understand this award, but I think I have to make laws, and then pass on this award to more people. 

Oh. Okay. It's called the Overlord Award. Okay, three laws!


1)  Practise the three 'R's: I know, I'm so selfless and wonderful. The three 'R's are Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle, not Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmatic, because that would be dumb. So, conserve. To make this law less lame, I will institute some sort of punishment that I haven't decided on yet. A lifetime's sentence of labour on Mars? Cleaning my rabbit's cage? Cleaning my giant, violent, hungry T-rex's cage?
2) Singing is allowed everywhere. I like singing.
3) Random fact day. This is a day where the geeky part of our population is allowed to spout as much miscellania as they want, without social repercussions, on the condition that each brings me one. Because my brain soaks up knowledge. Like a sea-sponge. I know sea-sponges aren't porous, but deal with it.
(Real conversation I had. Scholarly Gabi was in the driver's seat that day.
Friend: How much water would be in the sea if there weren't any sponges?
Me: Sea sponges are made of limestone. Also, there would be the same amount of water regardless, as the only thing that the sponges would increase is the volume. 
Friend: Uh. I was making a joke.)


I'm lame, and have next to no overlordly tendencies. I think I'm supposed to pass this on to people? I don't know how this works. *acts clueless* Oh, well! I'll just have to not tag anyone! What a shame. 




-Gabi 

"The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't."

This post is too long. You will deal with it, as That Blond Guy issued me a challenge. I hope I don't bore you.
This is the most fantastically enthralling post I have ever written.


Name?
My name is unimportant. What really matters is the contents of my heart.  My wallet if you're that sort of person.  Gabrielle. 

Is your name on Blogger your name in real life? If not, what letter does your real name start with?

I just told you what my name was. Did you expect me to assume you're asking for my nonexistent Blogger name? Fine. My name in real life starts with a 'P' and ends with an 'enis'. I got made fun of a lot as a child. I mean, a penis is a totally normal anatomical feature! I mean, it could have been because I am a girl and the world is a horrible place.
Tolerance is extremely important to teach, which is why I'll be naming my children Harry-Dicksley and Pizzaface.


Astrological sign?
Sagittarius.  Apparently Sags like to explore.  And we get into cynical relationships. The internet makes me laugh.

If there was a huge 'Blogspot Get-Together' where all bloggers were meant to come together and meet in real-life, would you go?

Yes! Why are there quotation marks around 'Blogspot Get-Together'? I mean, if you're thinking about it as a name for the get-together, but it isn't really catchy. 
I would end up spending a lot of time avoiding self-absorbed depressed hipster kids who write blogs about death, and makeup bloggers with flashy myspace pages, however. I attract them like bees to honey or hyper children to delicate objects or guys' eyes towards cleavage. 


Have you ever rejected someone?
Surprisingly, yes. Shall I summarize them? I'm going to summarize them. My tactlessness was quite funny.
NOTE: A walk back, a very Jewish summer camp sort of thing, is when a guy walks you back to your cabin then tries to make out with you in the woods.


1) Kid with Harry Potter glasses at camp after grade 4. As he had Harry Potter glasses, I don't know why I wasn't in love with him. Anyways, a girl told me he wanted to go on a walk back with me, I thought it was a cruel joke, and he apparently cried behind his cabin when I said no. 
2) Opinionated redhead. The summer after that, I was asked on a walk back by a really nice kid who I had no attraction to whatsoever. I didn't really have crushes yet. I said no, ran away, then five minutes later walked back to him and told him "Okay, as long as it's just as friends." He dislikes me now, for that and other reasons.
3) 11 year old with a mission. Again at camp, when I was around 13, I met an eleven year old French Canadian. He offered to read French Archie comics with me; he would translate (by the lake as the sun set.) As soon as he finished that sentence, he asked me if I would go on a walk back. I walked away as fast as I could, while explaining that "Ithinkyou'reniceandallyouseebutyoureonlycuteinababywayandIkindofsortofhaveaboyfriend." Poor kid.

If so, was it harshly?
I told you my rejection stories. Decide on how bitchy I acted on your freaking own on a scale of 1:Go hug more bunnies, or something to 10: You're blaming your boyfriend for ruining your favourite Gucci purse because he has nice abs.

Did they cry?
I told you.  I feel remorseful. Nobody will ever love me ever again. Stop rubbing it in. 

Have you ever tried a cigarette?
No. I have a problem with cigarettes. I graphed them with Best Friend (who knows this URL now. Yay!) on our graph of morality, and they're bad. I graph things. Shut up.

Have you ever been high? If so, on what?

Now, being high isn't quite as bad on our graph, although the figures don't quite condone it. But no. I don't like things that change the already weird way my brain works, especially when ADHD screws it over a bit already. Plus, I'd totally send out weird text messages to people asking them if they know any nice guys who like conversations about dark matter and the benefits of LSD.


What are six things you find attractive when in the opposite gender?
Echad:  Intellectuals are wonderful, as long as they aren't snobs or condescending. 
Shtayim: They must be nice, socially aware, and idealistic to a point, but still honest and realistic.
Shalosh:  Attractive. HINT: I find Bernard from Megamind strangely attractive. To an unhealthy extent. I try to avoid the fact that in most of his appearances, he is actually a creep with a big blue head. And that he's fictional and animated.
Arbah: They must be at least almost as weird as me. I need someone who gets me, how my brain works. They should like exploring, and learning, and nature.
Chamesh: I adore good conversationalists- by that I mean someone who I can nerdspeak with - but he must be able to deal with silence too, because silence is important. I get annoyed with people who only seem capable of small talk.
Shesh: Um. I know most girls are probably confused by this, but I see nothing wrong with a guy being a bit clingy. As long as he doesn't intrude on my personal space. It makes me feel loved. 



What are five things you find extremely unattractive in the opposite gender?


Un: Guys with really low self esteem bother me if they act wimpy because of it. So much. So does inflated self esteem if the guy a jerk about having an ego, actually. Just have normal self worth, or hide your ego problems. Or I will eat you in a non-sexual manner.
Deux: Fake people. If you avoid eye contact when you're around your guy friends and an hour before we were having an in depth discussion on something amazing, I will probably be very pissed off at you. In a quiet burning fashion that involves voodoo, carrots, and my rabbit who has gutted a plush chair before and would quite happily gut a doll filled with a food she likes. 
Trois:  It disappoints me when someone seems really nice and is attractive, then you initiate flirtatious eye contact, only to find out that he is, in fact, nice, but also wants to be a dentist when he grows up and has no talents besides the violin lessons his parents make him go to. No offense meant towards dentists or violinists. That kid was just disappointing. As much as I respect and love nice people, if you are boring I will become sad.
Quatre: People who are close minded. I love people with opinions, but I will also get very close to verbally ripping into people who state the same opinion over and over and over again. Especially if the close mindedness extends into "I hate mud because mud is mean and can never ever be amazing." Mud is wonderful.
Cinq: Unadventurous people. I love camping. I love nature. I am a plaid flannel and overall wearing backwoodsman at heart, and if you don't like looking up at the stars night sky on a cool evening in the middle of nowhere, I would be sad.

Answer only if you have a sibling: If your sibling wasn't your sibling, do you think you'd ever find him/her attractive and go out with him/her?
It depends on whether or not I grew up with him. You see, with people you've known from before a certain age your body produces hormones that actually repel you from them sexually. So, theoretically, if I didn't grow up with him, yes. But in actuality, he's too much of a jerk to be my type, anyways. 
Did I mention that you're sick?
Would you ever eat a caterpillar?
Due to religious restrictions, I cannot, in fact, eat a caterpillar. I would totally marry one, though. They're cute.

If yes, why?


Is this question really necessary as a separate one from the previous? You could just include it in the previous question. I mean, if what you're trying to do is get people to embarrass themselves, then you may succeed, except I see no wrong with caterpillar eating.
If no, why?
You see? This is so redundant! I already told you off twice about this. Don't make me do it again. I'm warning you.
Would you rather kiss a random stranger on the street of the opposite gender or tickle a random stranger on the street of the opposite gender?
I bet the person who wrote this is a creepy old guy who likes to fantasize about young fresh bloggers groping people. That's creepy, dude. I have a rape whistle. No, really. My uncle bought me this one just last week.
Would you rather throw up on stage or fart on stage?
I have that wonderful skill of farting quietly then looking innocent.
Would you ever sneak out of the house at night?
Depends. Like, for a wild party with drugs and stuff, no, because I'd end up sitting in a corner. Maybe for a Nerdfighters gathering or a book signing. A late night, sexy one. I will find Hank Green or Christopher Paolini and squeeze their butts to see where it goes from there.
Do you think this survey was weird?
Weird is objective. But I was a bit bewildered by the incest question. Problems caused by genetic inbreeding are not sexy.
Did you find it enjoyable?
I find joy in life in general, and I got to stare at Bernard's face. But really, get some confidence pants. You spelled stuff correctly, which is good. 


Which five bloggers will you be tagging to take this survey as well?
Do I know five bloggers? Let me think.
Oh hey there :)
Randomly Yakking
Give Up Sex or Dinosaurs? 
ohmygoodnessgraciousgosh
Almost Out of Ink can draw me a picture if she feels nice, instead!!! Only if she feels like it.




-Gabi


P.S. I'm quite partial to this font. What do you think? Should I give my blog a makeover?

' "What's so unpleasant about being drunk?" "You ask a glass of water."

How many software engineers does it take to change a lightbulb? Uh, that's a hardware problem. 

My internet is angry. Not angry in a 'I am going to go smash things now.' way.  Angry in the way that a crying baby is angry; temperamental, needy, and unpredictable. Our router doesn't smell bad, at least. And babies generally don't have have large quantities of porn. 

Everyone in my family enjoys their share of the internet, Mom with Farmville, Dad with getting upset over trolls on Yahoo Answers, and my brother playing Minecraft and downloading questionable software and looking up instructions to build scary things. So icky internet gets frustrating, especially when brothers have tendencies towards building giant electrical circuits for cryptic purposes when not distracted by the world wide web. Coughsavemecough. I just adore my brother.

In other news, I have 29 followers now. That makes me quite happy. 

Hey, world. Guess what, world? I have a prime number of followers!

In more other news, I have made friends with guy who compared his mood swings to a cosine at the youth group trip this weekend. The same trip also reminded me why I love my religion, which I really need reminding of right now, what with the whole agnostic but religious thing I have going on. I gave some advice to a kid who is being forced to realize that life isn't fair way too early, and got some advice given to me, by my new nerdy friend, in fact. He told me that for things that I really want, I should just go for it, but worded more nicely. I know he meant that I should run for the social action position on the executive board, but I think that it is probably a definite thumbs up for my new career as a crocodile wrangler. 

Pretty much I had a good weekend, although I have now had 4 hours of sleep for three nights in a row, and am sleep deprived. I'm hoping that this will end up as one of my better sleep deprived posts, as there is no way I'll be proofreading this. 

-Gabi

P.S. Happy Mother's Day! One of my old and dear friends wished me that at 12am. It was sweet and creepy. Mostly creepy.

My titles are never actually related to my posts, now are they? THEQUARKISAFUNDAMENTALCONSTITUENTOFMATTEROBSEROBSERVEDIN1968THROUGHDEEPELASTICSCATTER. I have ADHD.

I am writing a post. Yes, it is being written. By my fingers, on a QWERTY keyboard. 

Scholarly Gabi: Fun fact: The first typewriters were not QWERTY. The most frequently used letters were placed on home row in an order that made a lot more sense (dvorak keyboard.) The problem was that with the advent of touch-typing, people started to type much too quickly, jamming the dvoraks without them noticing. They'd end up with a piece of paper full of 'E's.

Moody Teenager Gabi: Shuddup, I'm trying to sleep.

Scholarly Gabi: You have to wake up in a moment to eat supper so you can have the proper allotment of caloric energy, anyhow. 

Moody Teenager Gabi: Why can't you be normal? Ugh.

Scholarly Gabi: It is suggested that geniuses have a trend of being on the extreme of a social spectrum as well as on a bell curve. 

Realistic Gabi: You aren't a genius!

Scholarly Gabi: Well, uh. Who said that that comment was a follow up to the comment directly preceding it? I could be referring to someone else, and you are merely too unintelligent to comprehend a valid statement which you incorrectly interpreted as a non-sequitor. And like Einstein sad, genius is 1% inspiration, 99% perspiration. All I really need to do is join the quidditch team.

Moody Teenager Gabi: I hate you. I'm going to go listen to angry music.

Scholarly Gabi: Studies have shown that plants grow better with classical music than angry music! Granted, it was just an episode of Mythbusters, and they hardly have proper control of their variables.

Scholarly Gabi gets on peoples' nerves. 

So how's Gabi as a whole? Good, pretty much. Lacking in motivation. Oh, yes. Canada has a new government. SQUIRRELSQUIRRELSQUIRRELSQUIRREL! There's a squirrel outside my window.

There must have been some opinion I wanted to talk about or something, but I just took out The Trilogy of Five from the library for re-reading. :D

Socks Today: I feel like I should stop running this. I mean, I did stop a while ago. But re-stop, officially. Can I just mention my socks somewhere if they are interesting? Oh, today they are neon stripes, and each sock is neon-striped differently. (Is it more correct to say both socks? Is it more correct to not be saying more correct? Yes.)

-Gabi

P.S.

 An act of rebellion:

ATM machine

HST tax

PIN number

Teehee. Redundancy. It feels good, sometimes.

There is an ant crawling everywhere. I am torn about whether to respond by naming it and observing it or running away due to a childhood trauma involving an ant bite and a freezie. Um. I should shut up now.

Are alligators fun to poke?

     This morning  afternoon I woke up, walked downstairs, and saw the newspaper out of the corner of my eye. I was surprised to see this headline on the front page. For some reason I felt as if it had a good connotation:

     My imagination quickly added to this with an esthetically pleasing image that bore some resemblance to this: 

     It then furnished it with a cute little story:

     My just-awoken mind had been taken on a flight of fancy with this lovely story and was taking great pleasure in it. Gabi imagined alligators and policemen finally living in peace, and alligators enjoying freshly baked doughnuts. A whole new era of alligator-policeman peace! Then she realized that it actually said "Police Probe Allegations" and the headline was continued when the newspaper was flipped over and was about a murder. 

     I'm trying to figure out how my brain could have made such a mistake. The only think I can deduce is an overdose of something, that something probably being matzah or sleep. Or lack of doughnuts for the duration of Passover. (Can someone overdose on a lack of something? Thoughtful Gabi will add that to her list of questions to mull over, along with "Does God exist?" "Is society worth it or should I go live with the wolves?" and "Should I stop procrastinating?".) I can also turn my misinterpretation into a whole commentary about how there should really be more alligator probing and less murdering. 

I am now going to go do schoolwork, find a birthday present for my grandfather, stare at my slipper-socks, and do such pleasant things. Toodles!

-Gabi

I feel like laughing evilly. MWAHAAHAHAA.

My grandmother bought me a cross-stitching set, which I am probably addicted to. Thing is, when I hear cross-stitching, or needlepoint, or pretty much anything involving a thread, I imagine a proper young lady in this dress placidly sitting in a well kept sitting room with her needle and thread.  To properly illustrate the incongruity of me doing cross-stitching, here is a handy little badly-drawn MS paint picture:

I actually did find myself muttering control zed angrily under my breath while messing up stitches, because I am unmistakably, undeniably, irrevocably cool, despite using large and unwieldy words like 'incongruity' and 'placid', and being able to recite 38 digits of pi, and having arguments involving characters from Harry Potter fanfiction (fanfics are my guilty pleasure). Ha. If you haven't noticed my sarcasm hand raised high in the air, please get your eyes checked.


On to more interesting things! Oh, wait. There isn't much. I mean, I went to my grandparents' cottage over the weekend, and we made maple syrup. There was also a loon frozen into the ice in the lake because it couldn't take off before the lake froze. This all sounds very Canadian, doesn't it?


Speaking of Canada, do you know what else is Canadian? I don't actually know. I wanted to use this as a transition when I realised how cheesy it is, and how I also don't need the transition because I don't have much to say anyway. Oh, wait. Hot Guy at school is Canadian. 


REALISTIC GABI: He probably isn't, actually. 
SCHOLARLY GABI: We did a poll in Geography class, and it turns out that only 10 out of the 30 people in our class are born in Canada, 1 parent is, and one grandparent is.
POSITIVE GABI:  I love Toronto for that, the multiculturalism is great. 
REALISTIC GABI: They're all from Asia, sweetie.
IMMATURE GABI: Your mom's from Asia.
REALISTIC GABI: She was born in Canada.
IMMATURE GABI: Your mom's mom's from Asia.
REALISTIC GABI: She's European.
IMMATURE GABI: Your mom's mom's. . . (Infinite loop loops infinitely.) 


Goodbye.


-Gabi


Socks today: One is black and purple, and one has an argyle pattern.