Nothing Particularly Amusing

There's nothing particularly amusing at all. Other than Christmas Break, my brother irking my nerves and that I still haven't changed out of my pajama shorts. The Doctor signed on last night for some Scrabble which was great, I won majority of the games because she's rusty.

Some people use the 'rusty' excuse when they just suck at something. But no. She was rusty, she usually clobbers me each game and the tables were totally turned (until she warmed up). She got right back into the swing of things as usual and won a few. I tend to not allow her to beat me too much! Joking of course.

But before I turned in I had this really good game. I was ahead the majority of the game, steadily keeping my score well above his. But at times like these when I know I'm winning, I start underestimating my opponent. I assume they suck and they won't catch up, when ultimately they do making the game pretty tight.

He was ahead, the score was:

285 t0 317.

He had three tiles left, a B, a D and an I. Which totals up to be seven points on the website I play on. Because I was going to make Join off of the J for a double word score, I would then end the game subtracting his seven points from his score which add to mine.

I know that totally doesn't make sense, so I'll show you the math.

285 + 27 = 312. The 27 includes the 20 points from join and the 7 points from the tiles he did not use.

His score: 317 - 7 = 310.

The Scrabble Dunce Wins! 150 ranking points away from 1800!

I had such weird dreams these past couple nights, one in particular I think I'd share.

I was in this area touring an old prison with my cousins and there was a morgue (Again!) with the big fucking drawers and shit, and they were yellow like the lockers at school. That's the scary part - I'm not surprised at all.

So then, apart of the tour was laying DOWN in these huge drawers like the dead prisoners did! So whatever, I crawl in and I'm next to my cousins in the drawer thinking to myself, "Some dead person sat here!" I was screaming, not crying but freaking the hell out. And there was this part where this 'thing' dropped down and I couldn't get past it because of my chest.

Anyway moving on.

So the dream switched to the woods. And I've definitely seen this dream before and I was just observing, I was running away from something.

I remember seeing people in white suits running around - I've concluded by from what I knew they were prisoners and I was standing next to two of them. They couldn't be seen, and they were running (including me) all over the place. To our left I remember this small group of people, a man with three teenagers in search for the runaways.

Shit, I thought. The two prisoners next to me were like, "We need to run that way." They pointed in the direction, however I disagreed saying, "He'll see us, no?"

At this point I was behind a tree still looking at prisoner's in white running and the guy who thought he saw me, Phew.

So I book it, I start booking it to this little dirt path. Even in my dreams I'm the fat kid out of breath, Christ. Now we're stopped and walking, they aren't camouflaged at all which I concluded, Ha they're easier to see if they run away!

Not really, but whatever. So I asked them, "Why don't you just dye them a different color?"

And they responded with, "Because then if we dye them a different color, they'll rip holes in them."

Fine.

They lead me to this place, it was a tunnel and there was different color paints all over the walls. It was kind of like tye dye everywhere, and voila, there are THREE more prisoner's doing some Wiccan rituals or some boosh wearing tye dye prisoner suits!

My god it was so weird, and then I woke up!

It's okay to lose!

It's not okay to lose, it's not okay to lose when you have some fantabulous streak going and a rank of 1650. By February I plan to be ranked in the 1800's! Because that means I've been playing Scrabble a whole entire year and for starting at around 800 - that's not too shabby, I find that rather impressive.

Sometimes I feel like I'm being cheated when I don't win, like the other person is using some super anagrammer to create any word in the book to get ahead of me. And that makes me mad when I lose, it's worse than a bad test or quiz grade, losing sucks. When you've gotten so good at something and you lose (especially when you don't think your opponent is any better) you feel like shit. I played multiple games on Christmas, four or five games and I lost every single one of them. Why? I don't know. Stress? Maybe. I was angry about my North Face jacket zipper breaking, but it was Christmas I had no reason to be on the verge of rupturing.

I played today twice so far - and I won both times. I played well, really well and I was surprised at myself for how high I scored in one game. Sometimes I don't even trust myself and my talent for the game and breaking the high score. I really hate thinking to myself "it was only because you got a bingo."

I Bingo every game, usually twice! Sometimes three, and I've done it four times. Sometimes I think the creaters if the website have created some evil scheme against me to get me playing over and over again. Like the fucking game knows how angry I get or how happy I get over words.

"This game, I want Christina to lose! Give her all vowels so she loses!"

"Give her no vowels! Give her not one vowel for three whole turns!"

"Don't give her the X, J, Q, the Z or the K!" Why?! Some games I get all of them, some games I get some of them and some games I get none of them.

It's not okay to lose, despite the title. When it comes down to tournaments in the Spring, winning is winning and losing is not acceptable.

On a lighter note, it's Christmas Break and that constitutes me to practice Scrabble a ton. Even with the absence of Professor/Doctor for evening play, I still rule. Yes, I do play Scrabble with a doctor/college professor - and it's great, she's in her late fifties and you'd think she's one of my friends.

Saying things like "Wtfish" and "Fml" are questionable, but it's hilarious seeing her reaction. I sort of imagine her daughter returning from college and being bombarded with questions such as, "What's eff em el mean?"

"Fuck my life mom, it means fuck my life. Why would you ask?"

"What is double you, tee ef - ish? Mean?"

"Mom, that's what the fuck - ish. Why?"

I play with a lot of older folk, and it's an experience. They think I'm so smart but in actuality I'm average and perfectly fine with being average. About a week or so ago I was playing with a woman, I don't know how old she was, but I think she thought I was "cheating."

I got three bingos and I was being a sarcastic asshole. I love making it known that I'm a 17 year old and a twelfth grader, hence - you're in your fourties and getting beat by a 12th grader, flattering for me!

I told her I had no life and I study seven letter words in my free time, she wasn't really interested. I kept telling her that I'm really good at spotting bingos and I'm good at the game, and very good at the game. She didn't care - but it boosts my ego, just in time for the Holidays!

Happy Holidays!
The Scrabble Dunce

Mexican Food And Cars

I had a pretty intense dream last night, it was sort of random and I woke up thinking it was real. I couldn't remember how the dream specifically took off, but it was along the lines of the world in chaos, people running and I was in the mall. From what I remember I was walking through the mall as I've done once before, there was definitely some deja vu "dreaming style" occurring here. So it switched to chaos and I needed to get to my car on the top floor of the garage in the mall. You know those big ass garages and shit, well yeah and this Mexican lady was next to me.

Meanwhile the world has gone into fucking CHAOS, and all this lady cares about are her chimichangas in the back of her trunk that might soil! And me over here is running from destruction and apparently my brother is out to kill me and I'm going along with her!

I was running by her, but her fat ass was all walking super quick and said, "Did you park in the shade?! Come on we have to get the chimichangas!" And she's giving me dirty looks and shit like, "Who's this fucking retarded girl trying to save my chimichangas?!"

Anyway let's continue on. I caught word that my brother is in fact out to crucify me, kill me or at least get ahold of me so I had to move quick here. I got my parking card and I saw that my brother didn't get his yet so I was safe. I got up to my car and it was one of those cars from Grand Theft Auto and it went really fast, it was the kind that Jeff Gordon drives.

So I'm driving out and the scene actually switches to the Grand Theft Auto video game! So I'm like Tommy Vercetti and driving around and I'm at the top of the parking garage and I speed up really quick and BOOM! I fly out into mid air and my car is on fire! And I actually remember trying to put in cheat codes to fix my car! LOL

So I land and the car is destroyed and I remember someone saying again, "She better get out of there before her brother does." Because, my brother is stuck in there if I leave, trapped forever in the mall parking garage. (I wish)

So I'm driving around for a bit on this motorcycle doing all these really cool tricks. And I'm like, "No this isn't fast enough my brother will see me! I need to find a pay and spray to get the car so I can go fast enough!"

So i'm driving around on this little ramp and shit and it was really fun, I mapped out the pay and spray but I never got there because I woke up! But the dream was a good one, I thought it was pretty intense and good enough to blog about. But christ, oh my god I woke up to that show "Handy Manny" I never turned off my television last night and that's what I was left with. They were talking about hannukah or some booshit and kwanza. Don't ask, but it was just fucking weird.

Social Outcasts Deserve to Be Shanked

This evening after trekking through this downsized version of a Blizzard I walked into a house full of what the teen sensation calls, "A Banger." My definition of this term is a party and/or get together where teenagers, adults or late college graduates decided to get shitfaced and hammered. Meanwhile, their is much encouragement to achieve this title of "shit faced" and apparently that's the only way assholes could have fun these days.

Among these people are my mother and father, my sister and my mega tool of a brother. And me, I'm the outcast who sits alone at the dining room table with brie, ginger ale and sending text messages. I solely observed the guests, watched how they consumed excess amounts of Tisdale, Vodka, and wine coolers. These people now tend to make themselves look like fools, dancing around my kitchen to some shitty rap song and are meaning to impress. Unless you do fucking backflips I'm not fucking impressed, douche.

Let's go on with this. I have a family who encourages me to drink. They say things such as, "Just have a drink! It's better to experience it in the comfort of your own home with family and friends." Really? I want to drink in the comfort of my own home and spill every deep dark secret I honestly think about each and every single one of them?

Ugh, now the fucking floor is vibrating with "untz untz untz" beats becaus I'm SURE mega tool put on his techno beats. Jesus Christ, this sucks mees. And I also walk in and my brother is here in his stupid "I want to look like I belong in the corporate world" shirt. Great mega tool, you've done it again and tried to show off by making fun of your little sister! Who'll be laughing ten years from now when I'm hopefully somewhat successful and you're not married, dump macaroni in the pot before it's boiled and live in Toll House cookies because you're a moron. I strive to be more successful than my brother, and if I'm not - I won't be able to live with myself. But fine criticize me because I'm not trying to act all cool while holding a glass of wine, I just don't give a fuck!

Only his friends are some what 'cool', he's just a temperamental douche bag. I'm the social fucking outcast but at least I'm okay with it. At least I'm okay with sitting up in my bedroom with my ipod, enjoying floor vibrations! If i felt really that shitty I'd dress the fuck up and go downstairs and drink out of one of those red cups.

But guess what, how about I pour myself one of those big cups of "shut the fuck up" with an addition of "I just don't give a shit!" My life sucks, fine but I'm only seventeen and I have four years of college to look forward to for having a ton of fun.

And maybe these people aren't my kind, maybe no one is my kind. But, perhaps college is one of those excellent opportunities to find "my kind." Anyhow, that sappy bullshit doesn't matter. What matter's is that the Scrabble Dunce is annoyed, has too many loud people in her home and does not want Jonas Brother's Tickets. Confused? Okay, my sister's friend keeps asking me jokingly if I still listen to the Jonas Brothers. I never did listen to the Jonas Brothers and he jokes around abotu this because...I have a flattering chest. Enough said on that, none of that 'that's what she said.'

And half of the people are just sketchy and dress like they're pretty and have manginas. But whatever, the lack classiness and potential. Her party shall continue while they're all drunk but if my sister or one of her closest friends end up shnuggling in my bed and I wake up in the morning to find that - I will be so fucking pissed - you have no idea. My bed is my bed, unless we're married - then, get out of my bedroom. My bedroom is my domain, I'm going from the "box" or "cave" to Boston. I will be a bostonian scrabble dunce, I rule! Now my mom is coming I think...here comes the criticism, "Go do something, go downstairs and mingle, go have a drink and loosen up!"

I'm seventeen mom, you're supposed to encourage me to not drink until I'm at least twenty one years old like the law says! :(

Anyhow, enough complaining! I'm in sort of a good mood this evening because I get to do nothing and Christmas Break is in for next week. Thus, I get lots of sleeping in until 12:00+ and falling asleep around four AM. Oh the joys of having no responsibility in life. If only I was a billionaire and could live as a recluse or some booshit.

Love out of the comfort of her own heart and soul,
Nina.

20 Hours A Week

The Scrabble Dunce Lives On! Unfortunately, the Scrabble Dunce has not had any lucidly vivid dreams in the past couple weeks! But! It's been a good two weeks considering the fact the Scrabble Dunce has a life and got accepted to college. Yup, I walked my ass down my driveway and opened the mailbox and saw a big envelope with the college crest on it and BAM! I was accepted given I rule.

Anyhow, the Scrabble Dunce has some pretty big plans for the next few weeks/months or maybe until May. Okay, I'll start referring to myself as I. Anyway mees, I have twenty hour scrabble practice weeks. I've created a whole fucking manifesto of Scrabble in my newly rewound Scrabble Bible (it's in a white binder, if it were to go missing I'd probably die.) Practicing doesn't just include playing with 50+ year old doctors/college professors but literally studying words. Mind you, I'm a senior and I haven't studied for shit at home unless I'm looking up FRQ's for AP Government class (yes I call that studying.)

Anyway, it sucks that I have to sit there and memorize bingos. But you gotta do what you gotta do in order to stand up on some cool stand like M. Phelps and have a big check. And that check will invest in college, a burberry coat and Ray Bans! The Scrabble Dunce needs to be decked out in style in order to be the "Scrabble Dunce." I think lots of sophistication is at hand here, I play Scrabble, I know more words than your neighbor, then your mother and your children to be.

AND! I could probably spell better than your sister who graduated from Yale University in 2006. Anyway, I'm not playing chess - Scrabble involves so much more memorization. I was doing some bit of research the other day and how people think chess is a bit heavier. Well no, because you don't see a chess player flipping through a dictionary that has the thickness of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows now do you? Yeah suck on that! But being a Scrabble Dunce rules. I love my life at the moment.

Here's how my life works until the end of the summer. (The Scrabble Dunce will be alive in College, Playing Scrabble, etc)

I go home from school and I wash dishes for my disgusting family that can't wash cookie sheets.

Then, I usually tidy up when assholes leave bowls out on the counter tops with cereal in them. (because there was no milk)

I go upstairs and I make my bed, I fold my five blankets and put my spare pillow on the ground of my closet where it fits nicely. My closet is really neat, apart of being a SD is having supreme organization, my god.

Then, listen to music and lip sync while playing scrabble. It's a rush, I like to lose early on so when I play at night for two hours it's really intense and I win.

Then, I do other things. Check E-mails, become a fan on facebook of some random boosh, text dunces, maybe I'll eat something and I bop around the house like a dunce because I'm bored.

I never nap. Scrabble dunces NEVER NAP. It's bad, twenty hour scrabble weeks and there's no time for naps, there's not even time for sleep.

Anyway then from then on I hang out in my bedroom, my "box" that will be so utterly different from Boston. Or the cave, whichever you prefer.

I might do homework that usually starts around eleven. But around 7-10 I shower, do any reading I need to do, watch my hit television series', maybe play a game or two or look over some stuff in my notebook.

Then, I play with the Doctor online. She's in her 50's, she's great and I probably belong on the show True Life: My BFF is a Doctor/College Professor.

She's great, we have great games and they're pretty inciteful. 'Very Inciteful, that was very inciteful.' - KJ

Then I go to bed around one o'clock in the morning. It's twelve fifteen now, but my life pretty much rocks and I roll out of bed tomorrow looking like a half cracked Zombie on methamphetamines but it's alright. Two-six hours is enough for me when I wake up and become fueled by my wonderful, loud Keurig Coffee Maker. Honestly, it does fuel my life. It's like gasoline, I'd probably be dead with out it and would have missed out on the entire showing of Dances with Wolves.

So yeah and I have made up a name for myself. I'm the Scrabatorian, like the Valedictorian, the Salutitorian, I am the Scrabatorian. Because I FUCKING RULE.

No Left Turns...

The past few nights have been eventful none the less, beginning very briefly with a dream from the night before. It started with two friends of mine hovering and they were waiting for me, something from me was supposed to be done and they were talking about me finishing it. Something else was occurring during this brief part as well, but I can't really describe it. Then it switched to a party of mine - it started in my kitchen with my mom, three closest friends and there was food being cooked on the stove. Another friend walked in from the garage door and started dancing and was dressed awkwardly and it was just the oddest thing because I was so surprised. Then it switched to the outside of the house and I eventually got thrown into the pool and I was swimming around like a maniac and what not, mind you I could barely swim and there were just a ton of people in the pool. And at this time I was attending my current high school and an alternative and I had absolutely no idea why. Thus, it was time to show us our grades for the 'alternative.'

Looked like this:
Gym: E
X: D-
X: D-
X: F
X: D-

I don't remember the subjects, I just knew shamefully the only class I was doing well in was gym. So then, I got out of the pool and started flipping my shit at my mother for making me go to that school in the first place. So she told me, "Just concentrate on getting into (place name of college here).

Then I screamed at our neighbors next to her and said, "Don't ever send Nicholas to (enter name of alternative school here). And they said they hadn't planned to, thank the Lord because I was failing miserably. And in the dream it was weird because it felt like I had been attending, but I just never did any work for it. So weird.

So dream from last night was pretty intense. It was brief and I was on a trip to Illinois for a hockey game, I believe I was at the University of Illinois. I was with my cousins and what not and we walked into the rink and took our seats and a group of young kids walked towards the bleachers with green, neon scene kid shirts on.

I saw one person and in my dream it was an old friend of mine, so I was like whatever I hesitated to say hi and she ran. Then I jumped up and began to run to follow her but I didn't know what corner she took to get away from me, clearly she was very fucking rude and did NOT want to say hello to me.

So whatever I ran back to the bleachers and there was the hockey game going on, actually at this point it might have even been a swimming tournament, but whatever not important. There was glass behind the bleachers and I looked out and there was a tram with an ambulance approaching the arena and I was like, "What the faak mees, who got hurt?"

No one even got hurt in the game, some twat fell off the bleachers.

So I went back to find my friend and I saw her, she had changed her clothes into a bright pink sweatshirt and hovering over some homework. So I loudly tapped on the table to scare her and she saw me, finally she was 'ecstatic' yeah right bitch, you were just being fkn' rude. And then we hugged and all like we hadn't seen each other in years. And her face was all weird and she had too much make up on, and I kept thinking to myself I wasn't surprised to see her face looking like that because she's a dunce in the first place.

(I woke up feeling that way too. And I don't give out any real names in my blogs, no identifications of people will be said.)

So life goes on, and I guess I woke up after we had a brief conversation. Last night was eventful none the less after a night after watching a twenty-one minute Taylor Swift making the video and the beginning of Bruno.

Okay, Taylor Swift...Here's what I think. She has absolutely no sense of humor, it's like looking in my fridge ten times in one day knowing my mother hadn't gone shopping or bought shitty food, but I do this over and over again. Taylor Swift just keeps cracking fucking stupid jokes over and over again that don't change or are just getting worse as the time goes on. Honestly, maybe she would win best artist of the year and best song if she kept her mouth shut because she's just obnoxious. Fine, you're trying to appeal to a bunch of teenyboppers and Taylor Lautner, but no one cares about her fox face dry humor.

And if she wins best song I'm going to throw a bitch fit. I will legit pull a Kanye West and I think everyone else with half a fucking break will too in this country because a country singer who sounds like an untalented bimbo on stage does NOT deserve it. If anything, 'Gags' deserves it. Because, 'Gags' is talented, original, artistic and has excellent music.

Oh, and 'Gags' isn't writing about every fucking break up she had in her life to gain some pity party from listeners, 'when you're fifteen someone tells you he loves you!' - Taylor Swift, Fifteen.

Wow Taylor Swift, thanks for summing up every moronic teenagers gullibility! Because if people DO actually believe someone loves them as a fifteen year old and it's not a parent or guardian, then they SHOULD be listening to you Taylor Swift. Because then look, there's something in common!

Oh and my friends and I were watching some intervention. And that's a good friggen show, this one lady would suck on these lollipop drugs and she couldn't take left turns. And people from Connecticut apparently hold more electricity because there is big satellites in Bristol @ ESPN and there's not enough people in Connecticut to absorb that electricity.

....Really?

I just nod.

Restless..

The last few nights have been uneventful, boring, moon-in-my-eyes and...not any good dreams. What I do remember is from two nights ago. I was tossing and turning a while, watching that shitty movie called "Phone Booth" and it was relatively late and I had school the next morning. I woke up numerous times because it was too hot, ahem I do sleep with about six blankets because my house is freezing...recession.

What I do remember is being on a Late Show with Jeremy Piven from the show Entourage. All I know was that there were things being destroyed and knocked down and it was just stupid shit happening the entire time. So whatever, enough with that. I don't even care, but soon I'll have to have a dream journal for Psychology Class I think and when my teacher does read it (as if she ever reads homework) she's going to begin wondering if I'm on crack.

Anyway, this morning I woke up and it was pretty intense. I don't know if I was dreaming but something was playing on my iHome about me wanting to die. Probably because, the night before I threw a tantrum at my mother and threw a crayon at the wall when some adolescent italian project was really getting me going.

And I remember thinking, "If my mom heard this..." but whatever, it was just a dream because of my bipolar tantrums the night before. I was so heated, I thought I was going to rip shit up.

And again this morning I woke up and my music played as usual and it was on shuffle. It's my alarm so it'll just continue through my playlist until I work myself up the hell out of my bed. I couldn't tell whether or not I was dreaming but, if I wasn't I was definitely lip-syncing to that shit. I enjoyed it so much that I was beginning to sing along and it's not that I'm usually really surprised.

And meanwhile, I finally get up and it's about seven oh three. So whatever I did my usual, rolled the fuck out of bed and I thought it would be this awful day because my wake up time was already shit. But above all it was a decent day, but today in chemistry we did some cool shit with flames. I usually hate playing with fire, but this shit was cool. We took wooden sticks and put them on a blue flame and the outcome was all these really cool neon-colors in the flame. It was legitimately some Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire shit, fire-breathing dragon insane and the flame of the Goblet.

I come home and my mood was ruined. I was in a good mood all day, happy go lucky on the count of my amazing italian project, no numbnuts irking me or no fails. My brother and sister are the two utmost digusting people I have met in my entire life. I come home, my sister was probably good for a good portion of morning, yet she still manages to leave out her dirty cookie sheet. Honestly, after you bake cookies there's barely any mess. I know, it's a hard task for her to ...put soap on the sponge and rinse the sheet, like that requires any fucking brainwork. My brother doesn't do shit, he leaves his playstation wires everywhere, his game and rocks on the dining room table. Kid's a fucking moron.

This is pretty funny, my brother's a pretty big dunce. One time he was making macaroni and cheese and you usually have to wait before the water boils to cook, or that's usually recommended. No, no, we're going to whip it up the mega tool way and dump the macaroni in before the water is even hot and even boiling. He does that with cookies and all kinds of things for the oven, he puts them in before they're even reheated. When that kid needs to get his own apartment it's going to smell like a buncha shit, he's not going to know how to cook or wash his clothes.

He'll call my mother and say, "Mom, I don't know how to turn on the washing machine." Thank the Lord that child didn't chose to live away at college. He also thought a better solution to ensuring people don't die in plane crashes.

It was around the time when a lot of plane crashes were occuring around the globe. He said, "Instead of teaching passengers how to use life vests, just teach them how to use parachutes."

Really Mega Tool? Because I forgot every fucking Air Traveler could become a professional parachuter within the five minutes those videos are intended to last. There's no hope for Mega Tool, yes we call him Mega Tool because he IS a Mega Tool. He's a disappointment, so nonchalant...yet so affective.