A request from my wife!

This post is the sequel to the Ficklefry post. Why am I making a SEQUEL?!?! Read the title. Done yet? Ok. good. Yes, my wife Broadway (What? You haven't heard? WE GOT MARRIED!! YAY!) requested that I continue the Ficklefry post. NO, not the voice cracking part, (DEAR GOD NO, NOT THE VOICE CRACKING PART!) but the choral analysis part. (Oh. ok!) So I covered the Bass and Tenor traits in Ficklefry, but (like many many men still do...) I forgot all about the females! They are just as important to the choralic effort!! So here we go! Sopranos and Altos!

So as I said before the Basses are the fried chicken and the tenors are the celery of the food-based chorus. Sopranos... Well... Sopranos represent the pineapple of the operation. How so? Well, they always get the melody which is easily EASILY recognizable. (Someone could easily mistake an apple for a tomato. But the closest vegetable that I have seen compared to a pineapple is asparagus. YEAH. NOT EVEN CLOSE.) They are also the easiest to see. (When you're walking down the fruitalishious section of Shop-Somewhat-Incorrectly, You'll know where those pineapples be at! Pineapples are to fruit what porcupines are to mammals. ToTaLlY uNiQuE!@#!) I know a pineapple-erm. I mean, SOPRANO when I see one!

The altos would be the haardstoet bread in the mixture. YES. IT EXISTS. The altos provide a great addition to the choir meal. While I am almost positive no American would even be aware of the existence of haardstoet bread AT ALL. And they probably will live their whole lifetime still unaware that haardstoet bread exists... I know that the bread is vital to the meal. Without the bread, we would all turn into cavemen, who fall off cliffs and get eaten by LIONSANDTIGERANDBEARSOHMY! And I'm sorry, but we only have room on this planet for one Garbear. Too many Garbears and the awesomeness would cause a rip in the space time continuum. So that is what altos are: they are the bread that keeps the world in balance: even when nobody pays attention. SO!! That sums up my analysis. Good day, good tidings, good banana, nevermind, that made no sense. (ACTUALLY. I think it did. BUT I'M CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAZY! SO YOU ARE PROBABLY RIGHT!!)

Ficklefry

So I sit next to this kid in chorus right... He was a bass. He's in a tenor section. But Dennyden has a gut feeling he is truly a tenor. I have to side with Dennyden here. He can hit the notes. He just needs to put his body into it more!

Ficklefry uses his bass muscles when he sings. So this causes a problem when he has to sing tenor. Have you ever noticed how basses carry more mass in their bellies than tenors? I'M NOT SAYING THEY ARE FAT. I'm talking internal space at the bottom of the gut? Get what I'm saying?! I don't either... ANYWAYS!! Bases are more likely to be the ones singing "FRIED-PUH CHICKEN-PUH" In a food song. I'M NOT SAYING THEY ARE FAT. I'm only saying that "Fried Chicken" is best sung by a bass. My ears are more pleased by a low, soulful bass making a soulful sound with the pit of his stomach: the spot where the words "Fried Chicken" feel most comfortable. What a powerful sound that would make! Just imagine: FRAAAAAAAAHD CHIIKEEEEEEN!

wow. Tenors, on the other hand are more in tune to using the upper half of the stomach to hit jarringly playful notes. That is what I think the real problem here is with Ficklefry. He just can't handle the playfulness of the tenor notes. In a food song, the tenors would be the celery part: straight forward most of the time, but playfully tricky other times. CELERY, CELERY, COROLLARY CELERY! I think Ficklefry needs to adjust to the occasional goofy tricks that happen in tenor notes... Being a tenor isn't as straight forward a job as being a bass. Celery isn't quite as powerpunch-filled as fried chicken. But I am proud of Ficklefry. He almost has it. At first I had my doubts. (seriously, I HAD MY DOUBTS. Sanswag and I kept dying of laughter because we kept mistaking Ficklefry for a dying pelican with all it's feather being plucked off one-by-one SIYABABOOOOONABEBEFUNUKUSIQUETA! ONE BY ONE!) Ok. when I randomly burst into Swahili song the post must be stopped...

Drama

Boy, this year's gonna be a fascinating one indeed! We are doing SHAKESPEAH. Nothing beats that. Why is that? Because I get to be a hopeless lover boy and an evil drunk in THE SAME PLAY. YES!! I WON!! Also, I get to marry Broadway! BUT WAIT! There's more! My rich drinking buddy (and favorite freshman...) Is adorable wittle Jub-Jub. I get to be drunk with my fave frosh. Come On. I know u jelly! Also something Twilight Zone-like happened today.  CRAZY DROVE ME HOME. WE BOTH LIVED. It was profound and amazing and terrifying and those words in succession make this sound like the climax of a DI! Hmmm... So I am also really anticipating this show because it won't have the cast members I'm used to... Yeah... I'm the senior now... Isn't that weird?  One second I'm in the middle of the cafeteria with a group of strange seniors of whom's names I was never told gyrating to their continual chants of "Dance, monkey DANCE!!!! The next second I'm filling out college applications! I'm still trying to figure out what happened in between it all. Just kidding! I'll never forget high school. (OH SHOOT! I'm jumping the gun! The heartfelt "I'll never forget any of this" speech doesn't come 'till! THE END OF THE YEAR.) Note taken. I still got a whole grits 'n potato filled year ahead of me! I can't get ahead of myself! There are still so many events that need to be documented!!! That's kinda cool though. If I were to keep posting like this it would become sort of a memoir. A long, long, memoir. Filled with spider genocide and elderly people and God knows what else...

Another topic of interest: SPEEEEEECH! The speech year has officially started: and the team has had quite the success so far! At the Yale tourney I quarterfinaled in the My Life As A Teenage Robot category, SanSwag quarterfinaled in the My Life Sucks category, and Critic WON in the My Life Sucks category. I am thoroughly impressed by this feat. The My Life Sucks category is especially challenging because well... There are sooooooooo many things about life that suck. Judge preference is very prevalent in the speech world. That is one unfortunate fact. No matter what piece you do: It will never be seen in the same light by EVERY judge. Anyways, Our next venue is a fun little trip to Khaki Central. I'm ready to get my groove(s) on!

Height Issues

I am tall. That is an understatement. I am VERY tall. Still an understatement. I am UNDENIABLY and ABSOLUTELY tall. And guess what? That's still an understatement. This has proved time and time again this school year to literally get in the way of things. Add the bookshelf-sized backpack and you have an accidental serial killer in the making. OK. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. "How could this dashingly handsome and affluent young man be a serial killer?" Well,,, I have it down to a science by now. So I'll show you how my tallness correlates with my (ACCIDENTAL!) violent tendencies.

Being tall is like being a Mormon. Never mind. That comparison would take way too much effort on my part to try to prove. Also, people would think that I somehow believe that Mormons are serial killers. (Serial Killer=Tall=Mormon? I don't think so.) So I'll stick to the KILLER comparison (Serial Killer=Tall! CORRECT!!!) So how about we prove that! OK!

Fact #1! Tall people are clumsy; clumsy to the point where it could kill someone! I have a made up story EVIDENCE too!!! So there one was this tall guy, right and he was hanging out in the bathroom. (tall people go to the bathroom just to fit in.) and some shorter guy was about to leave. They were going to high five, but the tall man MIIIIISSSSSED!!!!!!! And smacked the shorty's face! Oh No! And shorty fell through the front door onto an endless staircase! HE FALLS TO THIS DAY! In fact I even have a personal story demonstrating the accidental serial killer tendencies of the tall...

So in gym class we are playing soccer. My chances of hitting the ball is in actuality a 20:1 ratio. When I'm not hitting the ball (which is a common occurrence. NOT HITTING.) I'm either punting an imaginary kitten or breaking the shins of my peers. It's bad! It's not like I can see what my feet are doing. THEY ARE IN A TOTALLY DIFFERENT ATMOSPHERE! Serial killers tend to have repetetive tendencies... Breaking Shins... happens every other day...

Fact #2! Tall people are tall. I know what you're thinking: "NOOOOOO FREAKING DUUUUUH!!! That's like saying potatoes are like potatoes!" OK. I see your point. But being TALL is DIFFFEERRREEEENNNTT. The problem here is that I cannot see any of the wittle noobs because I am a head and a half taller than the tall ones. Than the TALL. ONES. Don't even try to compare me to the short ones. I don't want you spending money on a microscope. Have you ever tripped over a living, breathing, walking body? YOU DON'T WANT TO. IT'S UNPLEASANT.


Fact #3! I actually don't have one right now. But I need to follow the rule of three or my point won't be made adequately. "Only two facts! I don't believe you. In fact, YOUR ARGUMENT IS PREPOSTOROUS AND I MUST SEND YOU TO THE LAND OF RABBID GOATS FOR YOUR INSUFFICIENT ARGUMENT!!!!" I don't want to be sent to the land of rabbid goats. GASP! There's my fact three! Let's try this again...

Fact #1: CLUMSY

Fact #2: TALL

Fact #3: I DON'T WANT TO BE SENT TO THE LAND OF RABBID GOATS!

"Wow! This is a work of art! I love your edits. You my friend deserve an American Red Cross brand chocolate chip cookie!"

REALLY??? But that's like... The Medal of Honor of Sugary Sweets! The Nobel Prize of Chocolate Chips! The OSCARS, of Baking Mastery!!

"Yes, and you earned it!"

And that's why you should ALWAYS use th rule of three!!!! *Chucky Cheezy smile followed by Goofity thumbs up symbol!*

An interesting little thingy happened this morning.

I woke up this morning. The End. BRUHAHA. Just foolin'. I woke up and started getting ready for the edimacational facilitation (you know, that place that turns your brain into cheese.) and I was jolly. FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER. So I had my JOLLY! shower. I JOLLY! brushed my teeth. I ate my JOLLY! Reese's Puffs. In fact I was so inherently JOLLY! That I began to sing and dance in the kitchen. And I had a JOLLY! Good Time until it was interrupted by Po Po's voice.
"I HEARD YOU"
"...you did?"
"You have a nice singing voice. It's only that I was trying to sleep and..."
"Well you can go back to bed now! I'll stop."
Then he up and went and got ready for school anyways. It was 6:15 in the morning and this child who attends an elementary school. Was getting ready. Now I REALLY felt the guilt. My arbitrary happiness prevented a child from getting a good night's sleep! (This reminds me of another situation that happened yesterday. Guardian caught me singing to the food in the refrigerator. It was pretty funny. But very embarrassing. I mean, how would you feel if you were in my house and I caught you singing to my sauerkraut?) I kept trying to urge him to get some sleep but NO! he was determined to be prepared for school 2 HOURS EARLY. He was putting his shoes on. HIS SHOES. I couldn't fathom it at all!!! If I had an extra two hours of beautiful rest I would take it faster than you could say "Singing Cauliflower!"

ANYWAAAAYS. Another thing happened. During eating time at the edification facility I sit with an interesting cast of characters. There is Crazy whom we all know, is utterly crazy. Then there is Panini whom we all know, is spaztic very frequently. Jenny Craig, whom we all know is usually perplexed by Crazy's actions (and gasp! Even some of my actions!) Then we have some new pseudonyms to introduce so here we gooo!!! So we have Dr. Turkey Fist. Whenever I look at him I think of a violent turkey trying to fight off the hobos who are trying to eat him for Thanksgiving and doing it successfully. Next we have Koreawoman. She claims to be Vietnamese but she is a liar. How do I know? A Vietnamese woman with a Hello Kitty lunchbox? Puh! That don't pay no bills! Now KOREANS. THEY BE ALL UP IN DAT HELLO KITTY! There is also Turtle Stew. She quietly eats her turtle stew. And finally there's an Alpaca. I don't know her.

Now that you have a cast of characters let's explain the situation here... Crazy always brings a gavel to lunch. I don't know why. She's crazy. She calls it a drinking device. How somebody could possibly drink out of a gavel I don't know. She's crazy. She never uses it either. WHY BRING A GAVEL IF YOU WON'T UUUSEEE IT?!?!?!?!? So I feel it is my duty to use it FOR her. So I take her gavel and repeatedly bang it on the table whilst screaming "ORDER IN THE COURT!!! OR. DUR. IN. DA. COUUUURT!!!!!!!" As you could probably imagine... This caused quite the ruckus... Everybody was all like "STOOOP IT'LL SPIIILL!" (Crazyness must be contagious or something)... So out of PURE AND RAW FURY! Jenny Craig SNATCHED the gavel from me! And a freaky voodoo illusion was cast on me. Probably by Dr. Turkey Fist because he thinks I'm a hobo... It was very convincing though. The gavel spilled an edible liquid across my face. This shocked EVERYONE (except Dr. Turkey Fist. He's too cunning to feel "shock"). But again. Gavels don't contain liquid as far as I'm concerned. I vow to get vengeance on Dr. Turkey Fist for his deceptive trick. Or my name isn't Carolina Joe!!! (AND IT'S NAWT!!!) 

New Newness

Well kiddies, I have officially been separated from my immediate family. I mean, It's not THAT dramatic though. I visit on holidays and stuff like that. I'm officially considered an elderly man of the education facility so that means this year will be a combination of a bunch of new creations of newly renewed NEWNESS! There will be: New Pseudonyms! (Gardenian, and her two children Pip Pip and Po Po...) New Cheezy Doritos!!! (YES! Now I have successfully enticed the audience into continually reading in order to get their chance at nabbing some AWESOME CHEEZY DORITOS!!Unfortunately for them, their efforts will inevitably futile!!!!!!) *Insert awkwardly orchestrated evil murmur of disturbing and vague laughter.* So now that I have your attention! LET US RAMBLE.

So I guess I will go further into detail about my current living arrangements. Gardenian is my official guardian so that means I'm living with her and her two sons (Pip Pip and Po Po) this year. Po Po, the older one, is a jolly little cauliflower who has an INSANE sense of humor. IN. SANE. Occasionally he will hit a funny bone and get me to laugh for a good twenty minutes. (That is actually very impressive. Usually when I laugh it's the fakest sound on the planet. Yes. Even more fake than Disney Channel. This is because getting me to laugh is like trying to tame your oxen to play dead when the health inspector comes around: IT AIN'T HAPPENING.) While Po Po's comedic talents are strong, he has a tendency to go into looooooooooooooooooong tangents that test the patience of even the most powerful minds at their worst. I'm currently teaching him how to spot a cheater when playing cards. Here is how it goes: I cheat. I tell him what he didn't notice after the fact. HE GOES CRAZY. It's quite a fascinating series of events...
"SEEE? I was actually holding THREE extra cards!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAT?!?!? YOU CHEATER MCCHEATY CHEATER!!!"
"Hey. Name-calling isn't nice! Besides. It's not cheating if I tell you I'm cheating."
"WHAT KIND OF DUMB RULE IS THAT!!!!"
"The rule of THUMB! (steals card using thumb) My good man!"
"GEEEEEZ LOUEEEEZEE!!!!! Stop it already!"

The younger one. Pip Pip, is an interesting little fellow. Oxygen is like steroids to him. It gives him all sorts of extra energy that would drive GRAVITY up the wall. He is kinda like Elphaba's flying monkeys... Not the genetically challenged bit: but the follower bit. He is too young to quite understand the humor of Po Po. And he usually attempts to copy Po Po's jokes WORD FOR WORD. (Normally I would say that's a bad thing but hey, HE'S COPYING FROM THE BEST.) He struggles with delivery though. He is not quite old enough to understand the timing of delivery. But once he matures, understands how to work a room, and gets his own jokes, he will surely be a riot!

OH YES! I HAVE TO INCLUDE HIM! OKAY. So there is this kid. I only experienced his presence for one day BUT STILL. hmmmmm... let's call him... RANDY RADCLIFFE. Pip Pip, Po Po and I visited his house one day. He is the most adorably enchanting little British Boy on the planet. This is the part where I use italics because they enrich the page just as this single boy has enriched my faith in humanity.
ENRICHED POINT #1: He knows magic up the wazoo! And he has made quite the dainty dollar amazing audiences everywhere.
ENRICHED POINT #2: HE'S BRITISH. I know the italics already establish this point but you don't understand so let me reiterate... HE'S BRITISH.
ENRICHED POINT #3: HE MAKES HOMEMADE ICE CREAM. NOTHING BEATS THAT. NOTHING!!

So yeah and finally there is Mr. Cool. A negro gentleman who's multiple coolnessess don't really need explaination. And that concludes my post. From the newly renewed world of newness this is Rtyoyo, signing out.