Tuesday, June 22, 2010

I keep trying to Photoshop griffin wings onto a unicorn with a machine gun, but apparently Photoshop hates me.

*Updated*: I'm not actually trying to use a machine gun to work Photoshop. That would just be destructive. Probably in an entertaining way though.

I won something at my school called the "Block E" award, a fact that I found out at graduation. I would tell you why, but I'm not really sure why. Maybe the administrators think I'm excellent. Or maybe they'd pegged me as the type to blow up the school if I didn't get some sort of special recognition. So they gave me a wooden "E" and a sense of unearned accomplishment. Sweet.

Sorry. School violence humor is not funny. School violence is bad. I love happiness and friendship. My peers are so awesome and I'm totally not going to blow them up and all the flammables under my bed are just for science experiments, I swear.

My award in all of it's glory. It came with a nice pin. The certificate says "This certifies that the official "E" of East High is awarded to Megan Prietzel, given in the State of Utah." .....So....can anyone else figure out what it is I accomplished? And now I feel like I'm under some pressure to be awesome, because I've got The Official "E" of my school. THE OFFICIAL "E". I am the official bearer of the official "E" which has officially been awarded to me. Does this school even know me? YOU SHOULD NOT LET ME OFFICIALLY BEAR ANYTHING. I will officially screw it up. Whatever, though. Now I'm the Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah and the official bearer of East High School's official "E", so I dare anyone to question my authority.

Anyway, I just really want to use my "Block E" award to do something meaningful. Like saving baby dolphins. Or I could travel the country with my wooden "E" and shiny red pin and speak to underprivileged kids about how sometimes you can totally get an award for doing absolutely nothing of any merit. Seriously guys, I didn't do a thing. It was like East High was all "Here, Megan. This is for being adequate" and I'm all suh-weet-tastic because it's about darn time someone recognized me for my adequacy. Do you know how hard it is to maintain that image? I constantly have to limit myself from being astonishing. Like a unicorn-griffin with a machine gun that wears a paper bag over its head so that people don't freak out and take pictures and sell them to trashy magazines and then the unicorn-griffin would have to go into hiding and stuff. So yeah. My adequacy=a paper bag.

Holy crap, I'm a great person.

I'm going to bring my "Block E" awards to job interviews and be all "I'm a winner, jerk-heads." So, yeah, take that, hard-working students who have "resumes" and "work experience" and "computer skills." I'm accomplished because of nothing.

So this is what achievement feels like.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Back by popular demand. Meaning one person kind of mentioned in passing that I don't post enough. People are so pushy.

Today was yearbook day and if there is anything more awkward on the face of the planet (other than myself) I'd like to know. I really, really suck at yearbook-ing, the verb. Yearbook day pretty much goes like this:

I get my yearbook. I write my name in it. I walk over to several people that I sort of like and I'm all "hey, sign my yearbook" and they do and I'm all great, I can leave. Then someone yells at me like "OMG MEGAN WE WERE BFF IN HIGH SCHOOL LIKE SIGN MY YEARBOOK!K#!!@" And I kind of just nod and think to myself "well, yes there was that one time that we did have a semi-conversation, so okay. I'll sign it." And then there are some people that I haven't talked to since freshman year that one time when we sat next to each other in some class when we had to speak to each other out of necessity. And they run up to me and are all "AAAHGHH SIGN!" And I do. And I look at their note. And it's all "Spanish was like soooo funny! That one time was hilarious! Scuba diving! hahaha inside joke!! Well, good luck in the future, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! KEEP IN TOUCH I'M SO GLAD WE'RE FRIENDS" And my note was all "You're cool, have a nice life." And then I feel like a jerk, because not only did I write a horrible note, but I also stood there for like ten minutes twiddling my thumbs because my note took .89 seconds to write, and this person is cross-legged on the floor, giggling and scribbling a novel. And I wonder whether I should pick their book back up and write more, or if that would look like I'm trying too hard...and I'm all "screw it, I'm already a jerk anyways" and then I turn around and yell obscenities at the nearest small child.

I was looking at my dad's old yearbook, and it's full of inside jokes and "let's stay friends forever!"'s and wanna know how many of those people ol' Ben-Jammin' still knows? None. Not a single one. Seriously. People are such flakes. What jerks. (I'll probably be the biggest jerk, in the future. I'll also own an army of robots and several Subway chains. I don't like Subway, but I've heard other people do, and I'm such a people pleaser. All I want is to spread happiness, and be a jerk.)

Oh! Also, I have a new thing that lets you interact with me in strange ways. www.formspring.me/megansquared6 is a page where you can ask me awkward, anonymous questions, and I have to answer or my face will explode. Not really, but I'll answer as if my facial structure depended upon it. Questions like this:

Featured question: If you could fondle anyone's knee pit, whose would it be?

My answer: Well, assuming fictional characters are off-limits, probably Mark Macey's, because he would probably enjoy a good knee pit fondling. Or maybe he'd rather fondle my knee pit. I'm not really sure, but it could turn into a knee pit fondling extravaganza. Maybe I should just advertise free knee pit fondling, because I think maybe I could charge a dollar per fondle. That way, I wouldn't have to choose, because I could fondle all day long. If it were a fictional character, probably Frodo Baggins because I'm kind of curious about hobbit knee pits. Are they like a hairy child's knee pits? Probably, except more hardy.
...What was the question?

If you don't know who Mark Macey is, then this wasn't funny to you. But...just trust me when I say that if you knew Mark Macey, you'd want to fondle his knee pit, too.

This is an advertisement that I created for my Journalism class. I used a technique I like to call "pancakes sell" in which I incorporate my secret advertisement weapon. (Hint: the weapon is a stack of pancakes.) Let me know if you'd like me to create one for your small business/social movement/personal entertainment. Better place your order soon, I expect the demand to be high.