HELP ME EAT FOOD

The food-related remnants of last night:

- A tub full of Kettle's Honey Dijon chips, Lay's Sour Cream and Onion chips, and Lay's Wavy Original chips.
- Lay's French onion dip.
- An unopened bag of mint Oreos I forgot to take out.
- An unopened bag of Chip's Ahoy white chocolate/milk chocolate chip cookies
- Watermelon. Lots of watermelon.
- A box of fruit popsicles
- As well as Mayfield snow cream popsicles
- A box worth of Papa John's leftover pizza with the works
- Halves of two different kinds of cake, one homemade and one from Mozart bakery
- A liter of Coke.
- A gallon of Minute Maid fruit punch.
- Half a bag of Jetpuff star-shaped marshmellows
- A tub of mini mint candies.
- A bag of red, white, and blue gummy rings.

Help. Help me.

Tweenbot Day 1

Project Tweenbot is officially being put into motion!

This is a tweenbot.

Long story short, the original Tweenbot was a 10-inch, cardboard, low-tech (and adorable) robot that could only move in one direction. It had a flag attached to it saying where the Tweenbot wanted to end up. It was set loose in NYC, and instead of ignoring it, damaging it, or suspecting the little thing of containing a bomb or something dangerous, the citizens of NYC actually helped the little robot get to its destination, pulling it out of ditches or turning it in the right direction. Against expectations, the Tweenbot ended up unharmed at its goal!

It's an experiment testing the humanity in people, even when they are as busy as New Yorkers, and the results were very inspiring and heartwarming :D

I love this kind of stuff.

Ryan took me to Radioshack, where I was basically 99% useless. So while I was practicing my ice skating lunges in the middle of the store, Ryan, with a call to Henry, figured out what to buy: a motor, battery pack, switch.

We're going to order wheels online and buy a potentiometer, and I'm going to try to make the cardboard body. It looks kind of complicated to me haha...I'm pathetic.

The goal is to finish it before summer ends and let it roam in either Atlantic Station or Centennial Park.

Scenes from Home

So. Here is the Hong family. Look at how happy we children look. And how spiffy my mom's hair cut is. And look how dapper my dad looks in his aviator glasses and suit!

This is how we decorate our house. We're just very creative.

It's  an opera my dad bought from Goodwill. He hasn't watched it, but he's very proud to have it.

This has been on my door for 5 years. I remember when I made it back in 7th grade, on the first night of SSMF. Soooo many good memories followed :D

My previous violin teacher, Mr. Ludwig, gave me these right before I went off to SSMF for another summer. I actually used them in the 4th of July parade. Nobody believed my violin teacher gave me that. BUT HE DID.

One of my old dance costumes that I found particular cringe-worthy.

...but this one takes the cake. We even had hats to match but I lost it.

This is part of a poster of DBSK I got from my friend in 8th grade. I used to be obsessed with them in very unhealthy ways. Micky was my favorite!! Too bad they're all wearing outfits too fruity for words.

I was a Girl Scout for 6 months and sold cookies in front of Walmart and everything. My vest was so heavy because of all the badges I got *sarcasm*.

My stand friend! He used to have eyes but they fell off.

So I put them on my bulletin board.

I made this in 5th grade and was SO proud of it because a fellow 5th grader said if I sold it, I would get $10.

I hate how blogspot doesn't allow you to turn your pictures. Anyways this is Mark Ross's 8th grade award...and for some reason I found it under my bed. I think he was trying to make me feel better about being a loser who wasn't an excellent writer.

So in 8th grade, I spent an entire semester writing a story that turned out to be 120 or so pages. Deanna actually took the time to print it out and made a cover for it and everything and I was soooo happy. It was an awesome present.

To show how riveting the story was.
"Epilouge." ....
"Derrick lived a life of suckyness."

Dear Dad,

I like the way you always tell me to watch out for duck poop every single time when we're at your campus.
I like how you always say no when I offer you food, but look so happy when I tell you I can't finish it and you eat it instead.
I like how you whistle the concerto I'm learning when you do the dishes.
I like your fobby outfits.
I like how you do push-ups and kungfu while you wait for the food to microwave or cook.
I like how you give in to buying junk food and hide it behind the bag of uncooked rice in the pantry so Mom won't find out.
I like how much you enjoy jokes that make fun of George W. Bush.
I like how you are always on my side without questioning me.
I like how you let me follow my dreams and never imposed on me your own dreams.
I like (but sometimes hate) how opinionated and outspoken you are.
I like how you don't yell at me for something I did wrong but already feel awful about.
I like how you like to talk to me about your mom and dad and how much you loved them.
I like how excited you get one somebody tells you that they like math.
I like how you're always shouting precautions to my mom and me as we back out the driveway to go somewhere, and stand there watching us until we've driven off.
I like how even though I must've been the most evil, unbearable daughter to raise, you still woke up every morning and fixed breakfast for me even though I just wanted to eat cereal and could get it myself. And that you always gave me a ride to school even if I spent the whole morning yelling at you for no reason. And how you always wake up at 3 am and check on me (I know this because most of the time I'm only feigning sleep). And sometimes you'll get mad at me and things get broken, but then later, before I apologize, I'll catch you trying to fix it with glue or tape. Or later you buy another one to replace it, and say nothing to me about it. And how you take me to all of my lessons even if that means you have to cancel or reschedule your tutoring appointments. And how you took care of me at home for an entire homeschooling school year and didn't go crazy.
I am going to miss you.
Love, Alice

No words, just look

The Great Ordeal

So I'm sitting here, window browsing the internet for pretty laundry hampers (to satiate my shallow desires), when I get a bite from the DIY bug. Utterly giddy about having a new project, I return to the bead box I positively roared at my parents to buy when I was 7 and only opened twice.

I worked so hard. I strung 89 beads in the matter of 45 minutes while reading WhatClaudiaWore and appreciating the fellow die-hard Baby-Sitters Club book fan's humor.

Do not mock me. I know you are all out there, closet BSC fans. Claudia Kishi should have a fan page on Facebook, and it would say "Recommended pages: Claudia Kishi. Many people who like Lady Gaga like this."

A blurb of Kishi-ness:
Anyway, I wore the coolest tuxedo I'd recently bought in a thrift shop, including a silky, piped shirt and a bright red velvet cummerbund. I removed the shoulder pads from the jacket, which made it really slouchy (I love that look). Then I bought a pair of white socks with silver glitter.

I decided to wear a pair of red sneakers to match the cummerbund. I swept my hair up and fastened it with a rhinestone barrette in the shape of a musical note.

Geezus.

I encountered one bead, which we shall name, Bead from Hell, whose hole was just small enough that the string could fit in but not go through. The Bead from Hell teased and tortured me for about 12 minutes. It occurs to me now that I could've just not used that bead.

I was just about to tie the knot when one end slipped - in the matter of 2 milliseconds - out of my hand and all of the beads fell off. Except two.

Degraded, humiliated, and pissed, I was forced to get on my hands and knees and look retrieve 89 ****ing beads for a stupid project that probably would've turned out really ugly anyways. And yet I decided to go for another attempt. I stopped after I encountered the Bead from Hell...yet again...to blog about the Great Ordeal. And also to show appreciation to the fact that every character in the BSC books has a legit Twitter account. God bless them.

I don't...say much...

I don't even know why I have this blog, or why I started it.
I don't have the courage to say any thoughts deeper than what I say out loud on a public blog.
...
That being said, I'm still not going to expand on any of my thoughts in this blog. In fact maybe I just won't talk.
Pictures?

Hmm...I think I'll talk after all. I love ice skating. It's something I would die to learn. But...since I can't learn, I draw. Every time I draw, it takes like 3 hours or 4 hours to finish one drawing. And I do so much erasing that eventually the paper is so weathered I have to start over. Ha. (Hey, it's the effort that counts, right? :D)

The top one is Mirai Nagasu and the bottom one is Mao Asada...I know Yuna Kim is the Queen of ice skating, but I guess I'm ignorant because I find these two ice skaters so much more enjoyable.

I think ice skaters are the ultimate performers. They have to have the skills of a dancer, gymnast, and in a way, musician. They have to understand the nuisances and the emotional significance behind the music they skate to...but it's not just what they need to be able to do, it's also all the things they have to deal with when they skate out there. They skate in front of huge audiences and are broadcast on TV at such young ages, and they have so much to prove in such a short time. And the world of skating is so small, people really are watching them all under a microscope. For both of these young women, there are failures and sad tears in their stories along with their success, and that's what I like most about them. They're so real. It makes their success so much more glorious.