Everyone's a little bit racist.

A few of today's observations...

Pools are much colder without Marge Schott.

Quentin Tarantino is puzzling and clearly misinformed. But addicting nonetheless.

Hypocrites suck. This is just a general reoccuring theme.

Burnt cordon bleu is a travesty.

Some people are just out of their minds. Completely bats.

If we're wishing for stuff, I'd wish for 2 more years and 8 more shows.

Since I feel this way, I'm wondering how far I could get just being a pretend someone for the rest of my life.

I also wish I could throw caution to the wind.

Sarah Rose Knows.

-8 Simple Things that Made Today Magnifique-
By: Danielle Randall, I.

1. Leaving dead, wet hair on a tile floor that wasn't my bathroom.
2. Kristina's toasted turkey cheddar bacon sandwich that WASN'T wimpy.
3. Getting my pictures back from BJ's. 
4. Wearing Olivia-applied eye makeup and listening to her Californian speak Drop Dead Gorgeous.
5. Taco Bell.
6. Jewelry Parties.
7. Playing Cashier with Kristina at said Jewelry Parties, and acquiring beautiful Blanchflower jewels, which is wonderful and sweet and lovely.
8 Realizing, once again, that some people will just always be amazing, no matter what time of day or what the situation may be.

I don't do cups.

Have you ever had someone who drew you beautifully flawless pictures in the fifth grade?

...Someone who sat with you on the bus, in the same seat, every day and laughed with you while you did things like change the lyrics to Christmas Carols so that they referred to your 80 year old busdriver named Mary, or make fun of Julia Child for hours, or laugh at the hideous school picture of your Canadian pen pal?

...Someone who wrote you "Check yes or no" notes?

...Someone who was always ready with words of encouragement, even if you didn't always deserve it?

...Someone who counted Ms. Huhn's camel toes with you, ran through lines with you, painted millions of leaves with you, danced with you, sang over you so that you couldn't hear your own hideous voice, and laughed at the same inside jokes with you long after they were unfunny to the rest of the planet?

...Someone who "Ate Great- Even Late" with you, inspired you, included you, taped their face skin into weird positions with you, and doubleteamed telemarketers with you?

...Someone who just couldn't seem to come through for you enough?

...Someone who could pick out a ridiculously dressed human from miles away?

...Someone who always made you feel happy, and immature, and exactly the same way you felt when you first met for real in the fifth grade?


...Because I did. I do, actually. He just lives in Florida now. And as much as that sucks, I know it's all going to be worth it

The Internet is for porn.

I have this weird feeling about me these days that is a strange combination of dread and excitement and hatred and love and regret and hope.

I am a walking contradiction.

Kristina and I got attacked by a low flying giant seagull in the parking lot of Circuit City this afternoon. 

Talking about things makes breathing much easier. There aren't enough words to thank you.

Memo to the Head of Admissions at the University of Tampa: Thanks for nothing, Jackass. 

I have a sweet Peppermint My Little Pony tattoo now. I think I can safely refer to myself as a badass now.

Gosh.

Celine, Queen of the Universe

I really do have the most beautiful friends.

To see them all, or at least an overwhelming majority of them, in one day is incredible.

There aren't any words, I guess. I thought there might be, but no.

I just feel really lucky.

This is my life.

If you do yourself one favor this summer, go and see Garden State.

I don't think there's been a more perfect movie in months. 

Perfect soundtrack, perfect casting, perfect editing, perfect acting...

Awe inspiring, really.

Page once told me to think of one thing that I would do every day without getting paid, and whatever that may be should be the career to persue.

Well, I would wake up at any hour of the day, every day, for the rest of my life if it meant I could be an actress like Natalie Portman, and take part in fantastic little movies like this one.

Must be nice. 

Really nice.

Do as dreamers do.

Sometimes all you need to do is grab a friend or two or three and dance maniacally while singing showtunes at the top of your lungs, without caring if anyone's watching or not.

It also helps to leap into a freezing pool and play games like Marge Schott and Some Dolphins/Paul McCartny and Wings/Ms.M and Some Quahogs/Celine and The 1500 People Who Went Into The Sea When Titanic Sank From Under Us.

But it doesn't matter how loud you sing, or how many games you play. At the end of the day, everything and nothing has changed, and sometimes you have to watch the people you love the most go away.

But thank goodness that day is not today.

I could have danced all night.

Dear, sweet Natty's gone off to college. The more I think about it, the more I realize that she's one of the greatest people I've known. Who else has completely flatlined in the middle of the gardens at the Chateau Versailles, brought herself back to life with lots of liters du Coke, managed to sustain herself for an evening on a night train by sucking down crackers and poisoning a bullet of Fanta with strep throat, and yet still manage to make a full recovery in time to madly dash around Cannes, trying to break traveler's checks so that she could purchase some sneakers? Amazing. I'll be missing that one.

In other news, it looks as though the University of Tampa has been severely destroyed, ERGO it is now impossible for anyone to attend. Oh, fiddlesticks. Sorry Natale, looks as though you'll have to go local.

It's really too bad that I don't have anything interesting to say in these updates anymore.

Oh well. There's always this:

D-Quiet, but also a party girl at the same time.
A-
V-
I-
N-
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Classic.

Jiminy.

There is a vibrantly green grasshopper type insect perched on my Smoothie Pro 600 in my kitchen.

It scared the bejesus out of me.

I am now left with a dilemma. Do I leave well enough alone and allow this grasshopper to procreate by the masses IN the Smoothie Pro 600/kitchen OR do I trap him beneath a paper cup and let the next unassuming Randall who comes along deal with it?

This is exactly the sort of thing that I LOVE to chew on before bed. The dilemma, that is. Metaphorically speaking. Not the actual grasshopper.

Sleep is what I need.

In a world where bologna is king, can't you ever just get a cheese sandwich?

Let's hear it for gorgeous summer skies filled with Simpsons clouds, for lovely little menengitis vaccines and Hello Kitty bandaids, for timely visits from wonderful friends throwing neon pink posters out of mysterious silver cars, for Sex and the City's life lessons, and, most importantly, for making each day count.