8th grade dances, Midweeklies, Anthony and Chris, Anthony and Chris and the handcuffs, Rockstar day, the car crash, condom day, waiting for letters, rejection letters, "Moulin Rouge" the first time, The Jessie Episode, The Prince and Me, learning to use Ajax, 6th graders Cabaret, hugging Jeremy, hugging Jeremy again, the mean kid in the trucker hat, getting my ears pierced (again), the killer Spanish Final, my lippy getting run over by a car, trip to Philadelphia, the Banana Stand's supposed "World Tour," and us chasing it, starting high school, hating high school, missing you, not being cats with Bernstein, Mexican Bible kid being a sophmore, Mexican Bible kid being Dmitriy's cousin, stalking Francisco, adventures to Aryeh's house, and countless late night adventures with you guys...

This blog has definitely had a good run. I broke the world record for use of the word "Petey Pablo," with 18 times in a single draft. Today's the blog's birthday, and in an ironic twist of fate, it dies today, also. For a look back at what's shaped StonewallJackson, I count the number of posts containing the following words:

Shmexy: 22
Nicole: 29
Bernstein: 5
Garth Brooks: 9
La Mad: 15
Rachel: 73
Michael: 23
Michael Bluth: 5
Rodney: 11
Moulin Rouge: 8
Pavel: 1
Pavlov: 1
Dmitry: 1
Hot: 65
Ryan Seacrest: 8
Juice: 4
And the count for drafts remaining unpublished for various reasons currently sits at 25.

When I look back into the archives of the site, I can definitely tell I've changed. It's good to see some change in writing, because otherwise I wouldn't notice any, since I look exactly the same. (Points to amigas.) My writing style evolved, the titles are completely different, and my focus is on different things. Stonewall Jackson would definitely be proud. So with all that, I leave you.

Goodbye...

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Went to see the gravestones, since my greatgrandfather would have been 95 today. It's just too much for me to know that there are people in the ground. I can't explain it, you really have to feel it.
Drove back, met up with Rachel at Starbucks. We talked and laughed at our "pornplan" to keep Katho in SF. Then we bought secret stuff for secret Saturday, for which I am uberpsyched! Then we bought chocolate chip cookie dough and a jar of pickles, watched some MTV with Helen, and then took a bus to Katho's. The bus driver was like pointed to the jar I was carrying, and I thought she was going to be like, "You can't take that on the bus," but instead she was like, "Oh! Can I have one?" so I got to give a stranger a pickle. Priceless.
Rang the bell at Katho's, nobody was home. Called Katho, like, "Where are you?" she was at home, in the shower. So we let ourselves in and hugged her mucho. La Mad thought she was picking me up from the Starbucks, and I couldn't get a hold of her, so I ran up to Albertson's and waited by her car. This random thug kid was like, "What's crackin'?" which, for some reason, I found hilarious, but I was just like, "Nothin', you?" It was pretty hilarious. Rachel and Katho caught up, but we didn't get to buy secrets for Katho, because La Mad came too early.

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First, piano lesson, then, loafing. Bike ride to Blockbuster, finally get the DVD I wanted for a week, get fried orange chicken. Get home, eat chicken, open DVD, it's not what it said. Not "24," just "Simpson's" disk. Retardo! Drive back, exchange DVD, watch it for 10 minutes, get phone call from distraught Mexican with news regarding "hot mountain."
Happiness rockets up, read her funny stories and she laughs. We make plans, I get super excited, can't go must visit graves tomorrow. She cries, I cry, we comfort each other and laugh. I feel better, I read Katherine's entry and I cry. Eat dinner. Take a trip to art supply store, many miles away, buy craypas. Hear new song, I think, "This reminds me of Katherine," but it might just be that the girl in it is named Katherine... I'll keep that in mind.
Now, eating low fat, low carb cookie, watching DVD, man getting tortured. It's awful and he's screaming but this cookie is so awful I don't even care. Wow, he's really freaking out now.
My body can't deal with all these ups and downs. It's making me sick to my stomach.

I'm excited for this permanentness on Saturday. Rachel knows what I mean.

Emma, you totally forgot me. I don't think that's forgiveable. Unless you make me a collage of hot people. And give me food.

I love you Katherine.

Goodnight...

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Sorry, this is really long for such a boring day...
I can't tell you how en fuego Betsy is for making this TEMPLATE for me! I was like, "Maybe in a week or two..." and I come on this morning, and it's already perfect. Miraculous.
I woke up this morning and watched a tape of the greatest thing ever. It's this like, 5 minute clip of Abe Lincoln chasing kids around with raw oysters. And this little kid calls Ryan Seacrest America's founding father, along with Andy Griffith. What I was trying to tape, which is also on there, is an interview with Shia LeBeouf. (Look at the pic of him putting on his shoe, it's rather atttractive.)
Turns out, he's a racist! He's like, "My big, black roomate, Lorenzo..." and it's seriously the funniest thing ever. He's talking about his roomate being a nudist. I had to rewind and watch that again and again and again, because I kept laughing over it.
After the tape, I went and got passport pictures taken at the post office by a guy who didn't speak English, and I was like, "I look hot!" but he didn't get it, so he was just like, "...Yes," so I was like, "Of course, I also think Matt Damon's passport pictures are the hottest, but Rachel begs to differ," and the the guy just said the same thing, "...Yes."
Well, I thought it was funny...
Then I went to the mall and bought hot nylons with swirls and cool fishnet patterns for school. I can't even tell you how hot some of these are, it's like ridiculous.
Then to the dentist, and they took x-rays and polished my teeth.
Stopped at Walgreen's and bought new face crap, because j'adore new face crap. Exfoliators, scrubs, astringents...
I REALLY LOVE YOUR NEW POST, KATHO! It's like everything I wanted to say and couldn't say as eloquently as you. J'adore my Katho even more than new face crap...
Adios.

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I officially hate teens. I can't even explain it. They're just the most retardo species. They're like, "Look at me, I'm 15. I'm fat and I have acne and my hair is ugly! I just love Paris Hilton and 'The O.C.'. I badmouth people behind their backs because I'm insecure. I hate authority figures. (Other self depracating remark)! Look at me go."
Teens are just retardo, no two ways around it.
Katho: Getting a little annyonged at you for not posting anything in so long. Consider this entry a prompt and tell me what you think. Love you, and all the other exceptions to my loathing of my species.

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Sitting around like a Jessica Simpson tonight. Except with a far less cubic head.
This house is en fuego. I'm sitting by the heater, developing a sunburn type rash on my back. It's like I'm having a stroke.
Babysat for Ryan tonight. He falls asleep fast. Watched "Sex and the City." Wasn't impressed. She's standing in front of some fountain with some gorgeous random, and he's like, "Let's get married, I love you so much," and she's like, "No, when I wear your ring I vomit, and I tried on a wedding dress and I passed out," and I'm all, "Something is wrong with your brain. He's hot hot hot." So they both look at me all rudely and tell me to shove it, since nobody asked me. Yeah, I think I may have fallen asleep somewhere in that story...
Damn, this is such a boring night.
I practiced piano for 3 hours today, and I'm still not Annie. Frustrating. Goodnight.

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I've been thinking a lot about one thing. If you had the chance to know when and how you'd die, would you want to know? It's very "Big Fish," but I've been wondering. On one hand, it could haunt you all your life, but on the other, you'd know you could survive everything else.
Comment for me, I'm curious.

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Last night's unecessary censorship had Ryan Seacrest saying, "Questions haunt the contestants. Am I good enough? What will this take? Am I about to blow the biggest (beep) of my life?" Just so you know.
Last night was Abuelita's birthday, and I got to see Eleanor walk around. It's awesome. I slept until 11 today, and just about every hour since 8 La Mad came in and was like, "Get up," but I felt crappy. Finally she was getting mad, so she took my temperature.
I had this dream where Bernstein and I were going on an adventure and dragging Rachel along, except she died her hair purple, only at the roots. I was like, "Why the roots? That's weird," but she said, "Since this is your dream, it must be a metaphor."
Went and bought earrings and tops with La Mad, then finished the season of "24," and wasted yet another hour of my life crying like the dork I am. Lame as it may be, those crazy tragic memories still murdered me.

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