I leave the 24^th. Scared? Why, yes. Very. Actually, I wet myself a little bit every time I talk about it…

            This summer has been the best EVER. I love my friends and I hate the fact that I now have to venture off somewhere that friends for Laura Madonna Schneider do not exist.

            When one of my roommates messaged me, asking what type of alcohol I prefer, I was pretty cool with it, mainly because I basically already am an alcoholic. I guess I just have an addictive personality or something, because I drink one hundred million bottles of beer each day. So I obviously didn't freak out because possession of alcohol for minors is ILLEGAL, or because the D.A.R.E officer told me that I WOULD be arrested if I were ever even caught near a beer bottle… no, I just took a shot of vodka and told the bitch to "BRING IT, because I am ready. Yeah!"

Anyway, on a higher note, I got a new life book- instead of red, this time it's blue. It's a risky color change, but I'm all about trying new things (as shown above). Now I can document my life, list things and write down every great quote ever, only in a blue book. wow. intense.

On a lower note I just endured my first set of arm amputations. The bastards at Drinkerson decided that I would not be able to live in the dorms without undergoing the extrememly painful procedure. My theory is that Big Dick is just making sure that I REALLY wanted to go there- so much so, that I would give up my arms. Anyway, now I not only have to type with my face, but I am also unable to spread my diseases. Personally, I think dorm life would be much more exciting if I could spruce it up with a little touch of Meningitis. But whatever floats Big Dick's boat. Tomorrow I have to further amputate my now phantom limbs when I get my blood sucked. I think my life would be much better if I had been born a robot. No blood, no pain and eyes that can light up on really dark nights. Hopefully this time I don't freak out as much when approached with the needle of death... but I will, so I won't actually waste my time hoping.

You know, if I didn't have a family, I wouldn't need vampires.

End note: PLEASE WRITE TO ME, OKAY? I LOVE MAIL. ANY MAIL=GOOD MAIL.       

please? no, really, I'm begging...

My address:

Miss Laura Schneiderrrr!!!!!!
Dickinson College/HUB 2116
28 N College Street
P.O. Box 1773
Carlisle, PA 17013-2896

And yes, I AM located on College Street, which IS the coolest thing EVER… if you were wondering.

and...

yeah, this is probably it for my journaling career.

love, laura.

Ah yes, the Madonna concert.

            I understand that people want me to discuss the amazingness of my Baptism, and for this I am offended. The English language is incapable of even suggesting the magnitude of Her greatness. Anyway, I shall try to throw out a few details, at least for my disciples.

-         It was amazing

-         A short woman next to me wasn't dancing… but I was. This led to a light tapping of my elbow in her face. She obviously wasn't a true follower though, so really it was her punishment.

-         Madonna entered the stage on a magical orb and blessed her partisans with a rocking beat and some choreographed love.

-         I have a large ass-bruise from when She entered and I appropriately paid the Goddess her proper respect… which involved my falling REALLY hard onto the armrest. I call it my love wound.

-         Madonna is The Goddess.

Basically my life is complete. I have seen the light.

            Now that I'm back in the real and much too far from the Goddess world, I am faced with a series of unfortunate predicaments which suck. Hard.

            Once again, my roommates… well, they're REALLY cool. I had my first chat with them yesterday, and they said things like "OMG, I'm so glad that we don't have freaks for roommates" and "yeah, you guys don't seem like losers!" To which (brilliant me) I responded "Yeah! Except at night, because that's when I like to sit in a corner and rock back and forth." There was this really long pause in the conversation and finally one of them said "wait… what?"

Me: "haha, yeah, sorry. Hope that's okay with you guys."

Them: "Wait, what do you mean?"

Me: (realizing that they think that I am SERIOUS) "Oh no! I'm just kidding! I don't do that! I was joking!"

            I always forget that those who don't know me, don't understand my sarcasm… even those who DO know me have trouble understanding it… the conversation above… well, it might be considered embarrassing, yet this type of sucking scenario happens to me ALL THE TIME.

            Like last night for example. I was at this really crazy party, just joking around with some drunk girl that I didn't know. She was talking about college (her major, interests, etc.) and I kept going "uhhh, yeah, okay, whatever" or "hmmm… wow. You kind of sound like a loser."

            It wasn't until one of my crazy-party-animal-rocker friends pointed out that this girl had no idea that I was being sarcastic, and just thought I was a douche. She was slightly offended as well.

            This situation is worrisome, because I can just imagine everyone in college thinking that I'm a dickwad rather then the polite and charming young lady that I truly am. I guess, basically my personality is ruining my social life, so I think that I'll take on a new one. Maybe Mr. Rogers' or something. Everyone liked him.

            In addition to all of my "wow, everyone will hate me" stresses, I'm also worried that my roommates will eat my Honey Nut Cheerios. I realize that nobody can say no, but the thing is, I do NOT share my edibles. I am busy either consuming them or thinking lovingly about them- this DOES NOT leave room for sharing. Just the thought of my honey covered, magical o's getting mashed into some disease-filled toothless oral cavity... well, it brings a tear to my eye. The turd that eats my cereal shall pay. They don't call me the "you fuck with the honey bee, I'll sting your ass" punk for nothing. End of story.

            Aaaaaaaaaaand another problem. I realize that when I deliver the above message to my college peers, they'll think that I am weird. I'm pretty sure that my life is slowly sucking away. Ahhhhh! Help! It's sucking! Ahhhhhhh!

OKAY, I AM GOING TO SEE THE GODDESS ON TUESDAY.

My biggest fears are either passing out (nooooooooooo) and jumping off the balcony… but Mara said that she would bring a chain for me, so hopefully that can keep me down. Please Madonna, keep me sane…

WISH ME LUCK!

Oh July.

            Yesterday I had to get blood taken. I understand that people do it regularly and most don't die… actually it's probably more common to die if you don't get blood tests. But really, is it worth it to live through voluntary pain, when death is so much LESS agonizing (and usually a one-time event)? After having experienced such extreme, yet semi-voluntary torture, I conclude that it is NOT. At least my nurse was nice, although I don't know why, because I was a total bastard to her. At times I can be rather dramatic… and this arm-severing situation was no exception. I (violently) refused to sit down and clung to the wall for a while, repeatedly squeaking "you know, I think that I'm okay now, I'll just let myself out" or "robots don't have blood, I swear!" Big Lin was less than amused.

            When I finally surrendered to the nurse's will, I got really lightheaded and the evil nurse forced me to lie in some (most likely lice-infested) bed for a really long time, which was annoying, because I was very hungry. The nurse claimed that I "obviously couldn't walk," which was untrue, and anyway, crawling is always an option when walking fails.

            When I was finally released, I informed Big Lin that if she really wants to kill me, there are other, more successful methods than this whole "let's pretend we're taking blood from Laura, when we're really just trying to slit her wrists" deal. She seemed to think I was kidding. She just doesn't get me anymore. I don't know… our relationship has been really rocky lately. I recognize that, as a boyfriend, she has her faults- possessive, overbearing, female… I've been holding on for so long, thinking that we could mend things; you know, work it all out and stuff… I'm really conflicted now. Maybe it's time for… a break?

            On a more positive note, I got my college roommates! They're really cool. Actually cool. No… they're HONESTLY cool. I have three other girls living with me in some huge room (that used to be a lounge), which just means that sleep will never happen. Plus, all of the girls really like to party… which is a good thing, because that's one of my favorite hobbies, obviously- Harry Potter parties, Mara Miller's Amazingly Amazing Parties, birthdays, I've even been to a few of my brother's parties! Wow.

            I accidentally let it slip to my roommates that I really like to party. I hope it doesn't hurt my reputation… I mean, that I'm such a party slut basically all of the time and stuff…

Yeah…

            I don't think that anyone is going to like me…

DAMN IT. Why do I only drink things that taste like water?!?!

            I hate this game.

Other things that I really hate:

1)      RASPBERRIES… apparently I'm STILL allergic.

2)      Singing really loudly in my house as someone (very cute) rings the doorbell

-          He knows I'm home… but I was singing really, really loudly… ANSWER THE DOOR OR NOT?? He was quite attractive… but I was having an obviously audible jam session with myself……….. ahhhhh.

3)      Family history- without this I would never need abusive arm-severing treatments.

Oh yeah... and JOIN THE FWIENDS! (facebook reference...)

FORZA ITALIA!

This Sunday started out like all the others- I was sleeping, dreaming blissfully about knife fights, male harems, couscous, the Bible (thanks Mara), and vigorous exercise, but then something different happened. My boyfriend entered my chamber and woke me up, saying something that sounded like "I am the spawn of Satan, here to force you into a life of misery and woe." With those words, I was locked into a cage and transported to my church, where my new owners (the leaders of the church's nursery/childcare program) were waiting.

            In God's house, I was directed to the torture chamber and told to "play with children, sing bible songs and… help out." I tried to cry for help, but my screams went unheard in the competitive chorus of small baby-like things. Powerlessly, I sat watching the chamber fill up with these human-like mammals. I tried gasping for air, but was met instead with the strong gasses of crayons, diapers and love. Suffocating. I was suffocating.

            The small beings gathered around me, invading my space. They seemed to be performing some sort of ritual worship, calling over more of their minions to pay homage. Apparently they believed me to be some sort of god! The children began to prepare a feast for me, their divine leader. I was led to a large table entirely covered with roasts, cakes, sandwiches, mighty salads, fruits, and even meaty balls. One girl offered me a large cupcake; an offering worthy of acceptance, and as I tried to pierce my fangs into the chocolaty sweetness… NOOOOOOOO!!!! The cupcake revealed itself to me, NOT as a piece of cakey love covered with icing and sprinkles, but rather a Fisher-price painted lump of plastic!

            The shitheads. They were feeding me plastic food… play food, one could say. I couldn't take the torture, I needed to escape! So much FOOD! So much PLASTIC FOOD!

            I closed my eyes and prayed to the Goddess for strength, forgiveness and supernatural powers. Obviously, my prayers were answered… she is the Goddess after all. I made it out of the death chamber/nursery just in time to wave to Catherine Cannon as I made my getaway. FREEDOM! Score.

            Big Lin has apparently decided that the above mentioned scenario is "good for my character" or whatever, and thus has signed me up for nursery duty as a tactic to get me in God's house on Sundays. In my perspective, the only good that came out of my experience (aside from my strengthened faith in the Goddess) is that I was able to witness (and laugh at) an ADD-type boy use a baby doll to beat some other toddler-like girl into submission.

Amusing?         Quite.

            Basically the point of my story is that I'm available at this summer for babysitting jobs of any sort. Just call.

            In two days, summer will officially be here, I will be legal and the flood of graduation parties will have basically ended. In the past week I have spent almost all of my time with the same group of people repeatedly, but in different locations, and I have managed to be, well… myself at each party. I think there are now about a million pictures of me floating around the internet and probably in many bedrooms (the second part is not true, but I added it to make myself sound really cool). I have also earned a great reputation as a hotshot photographer. Awesome dude.

            To make matters worse, by partying I have not been sleeping my necessary eight hours every night, which makes me absolutely delusional. I'm pretty sure I went to church on Sunday extremely sleep deprived and made Sarah Ivins miss the entire sermon, just by sitting next to her during a very bad spell of ADD.

My apologies to Miss Ivins… just wait until our next date…

I'm pretty sure that I composed multiple love letters, laughed (sort of like Santa) at all of the minister's jokes and crashed a paper airplane into Jane's head while adding the necessary sound effects. I really can never stop myself.

            I also have gone to graduation parties where sometimes I open my mouth, which, as we all know, is a definite negative, as everyone around me watches helplessly as my words force their way out. I might have told certain adults the reason I'm glad high school is over is not because I'm excited for college or new experiences, but rather because I am "fully grown" and "a real woman now," as I plastered tattoos over my body.

            Then there have been the (very frequent) attacks of cellular terrorism. By policy, I do not negotiate with terrorists. End of story. Good thing, upon interrogation with the enemy, Big Lin intervened, using her death stare of hatred for the human race to burn her victim to a small pile of ash in the parking lot. This is a letter of caution for all friends contemplating turning to terrorism for a job or hobby: Big Lin will get you. Beware all.

Things:

1)     MY BIRTHDAY IS ON JUNE 21^st!!!!!!!! I shall be 18, meaning that I can both vote and (finally) purchase rubber cement at Walmart. What a rite of passage. Thank God.

2)     The twins are back!!!

3)     I might have landed a babysitting job- apparently I seem like a loving and maternal sort of person, which is very true. I am.

4)     I want to go horseback riding. Madonna did it, so I obviously must.

Oh life.

(Good idea Miss Wu)

Post a comment with any memories of me.  Then post this in your journal to see what people remember about you.

Please comment- I am in serious need of some reflection on my school girl days.

Example:

From: Madonna

            Hey Lauragoddess, remember that time that you built a small shrine in your room and lit candles around a picture of me, but then Big Lin found out that you had open flame in your room. I thought she was going to torch you for "almost setting the entire house on fire and killing your loved ones." Yeah, that was funny.

Now go forth minions and carry out my bidding.

Tomorrow is my last day!

I hope that Fox Chapel will remember me… at least for a few days… I already know that the lunch ladies will.

I love you all friends! I'm serious; I really do- almost as much as I love listening to Madonna while eating. That's some serious love. I also love the week of graduation parties. Starting on Friday, you must call me "Laura the Party Goddess;" it seems to fit my character.

            I find it really strange that in about three years I'm going to walk into the high school and nobody is going to know who I am, or why the hell I'm hiding under a bench. Instead of understanding that I like to play the "no friends game," the high schoolers of tomorrow will think that I actually have no friends… Furthermore, when I move to Dickinson, the kids there might also begin to wonder why I'm pretending that I'm a dragon (my rightful dragon name is "Firrrre Balls" to be exact- do you remember that Maia?), or why I have on a large sweatshirt with a smiling worm plastered across the vast realm of its front. I can't even hide alone in my dorm, because some bastard will always be there. I'm going to have to live with another human being… I'm not sure if I can do that... I can see it now:

            The bastard sits smugly, legs crossed with a monstrously large cigar in hand. She raises her grub-like fingers, twisting them around the ten foot whip that she holds as she waits for her "room mate" to return to the lair and carry out her bidding. A large cauldron boils on the open fire next to her bed. She glances over at it now and then and laughs loudly, tossing her head back and bouncing up and down with each cackle. The only ingredient left for her potion is her math professor's warm and bloody heart.

            "If the slave does not return," she thinks, "or if she tries to run again… there will be hell to pay. The slave has tried to escape many times before, but after the last whipping… well… she most likely has learned her lesson."

            The bastard sits and waits.

Hmmm…

I hate it when people wait for me- I'm usually late. This does not seem like a good situation.

Anyway, I digress. The main point of what I'm trying to say is that I love all of my friends and I want EVERYONE (even you) to call me/show up at my house randomly and save me from the depths of loneliness and friendless despair. I'm VERY serious!

            I step quickly down the street, following only my stomach to the faint stench of edibility which steams from the buildings ahead. I hear a voice beside me, but am unable to turn my head. Colonel Tummy has control, moving my parts like a marionette toward its chosen destination.

            The only thing that keeps my claws away from doing the inevitable is the prospect of chocolaty-love ahead. My body has learned how to survive robotically, cleansing itself of emotion and any other non-necessity. I live on instincts, substituting human-ish feeling with large scoops of "Truffle in Paradise" or "World Class Chocolate." The only way my evil adversaries are able to defeat the seemingly indestructible Schner-bot is by ripping the ice cream cone out of my cold, unfeeling robot hooks.

            My metallic stomach beeps (the robot form of a stomach growl) and I wheel myself to the ice cream shop, desiring nothing more than the wave of love an acceptance that I find mixed in with chocolate chips and fudgie brownies. I roll over to the door, ready to open Heaven's gates, but then… a heartless (or just inconveniently located) being blocks my path. I cry out, raising my metal tubing to reach for the door… OH NO!!!!!!!!

I am going through some serious ice cream withdrawal…

Luck = nonexistent

Phones = Cellular terrorism.

Life = ??

There are three days left of my high school career.

I'm pretty unsure about my feelings on this issue…  

But I am sure that I have thoroughly sucked at high school studenting and am in desperate need of a career change.

Possible Future Plans:

1.      Stripper in Europe

2.      Warlord

3.      Mother

4.      The Ethereal (see http://www.tv.com/aladdin/the-ethereal/episode/51094/summary.html?tag=episodes) GREAT EPISODE!!!!

            The opening of the pool always marks the unofficial beginning of summer. My birthday is the REAL start though… maybe I'll pair the two and have a pool party…

Hot temperatures + hot bods + fwiends + Rita's = Amazingness

            There are only seven days left of my senior year, but I have so many unaccomplished goals. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Although I have succeeded in giving out my number to an ACTUAL guy (at least I think so…), trying a drink other than water (iced mocha!), getting into college, starting a gang, convincing teachers that I'm a sadomasochist, getting some sweet henna, and making fwiends, it seems like my list of goals is sitting, waiting, and wishing all alone. I have seven days to buy a boyfriend, become a famous stripper, grow nine inches, meet Harry Potter, become comfortable with physical contact and use my "cute" and "snuggly" powers to increase oxytocin levels in hot models, and define my (already pretty large) muscles. I hope that I can handle the challenge… but then again, that's what senior year is all about- challenges. If only the Quiz Master were here (I can't help it, I absolutely love Sabrina the Teenage Witch)… *sigh*

            I need to find things to do this week other than homework- I have given up and will never open another school book again (at least for tonight). I vote the pool happens on Tuesday, but then Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are up for grabs. They need to be filled with sweetness. Senior year needs to go out with a bang… possibly from a bullet, I haven't decided yet.

Fwiends- I love you all!!!!!! (except for Alex, because she got my henna wet today)

            I am going to try particularly hard this week to be normal. I shall not embarrass myself. My clothes will stay on- no more "Miss Schneider, please keep your skirt down" or giving everyone a great show at the pool, and I will keep my conversations rational. I need to start practicing for college. I don't want all of the cute college boys to think "what a freak" the minute I start doing the log roll through Dickinson's doors. How am I going to manage without high school? People there have gotten somewhat used to me… I even have friends this year! I'm not looking for social acceptance (that's too far from my grasp), but in college I at least want to be invited to some really crazy studying parties.

            I told someone that I lived on a marijuana plantation last week, and he definitely thought I was serious… it was pretty sweet… until the sudden realization hit.

Hmmmm… I have some pondering to do…