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BPAL Madness!
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National Zombie Movie Day.

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I think I prefer that to the other holiday taking place.


So remember when you were a kid, and every year at school people gave out valentines? And the day before, the teacher would take out the craft supplies, and you'd make boxes or bags or whatever to hold all of the good wishes and candy (mostly candy) you got? And on V-Day, everyone would go around the room delivering their valentines?


Remember that one kid, way back in the corner, who was a little overweight, or maybe smelled funny, or had that dad that worked at the gas station and harassed pretty high-schoolers? The one who always got less than everyone else in the class, even though the teacher said you had to give one to every kid in class so no one was left out?


I was that kid. So if you don't like reading pointless angst about things that happened many years ago, now is the time to click over to another blog. Maybe they have some funny cat pictures or something.


I remember once, in third grade, we had a contest to see who could make the best valentine box. I made one with fabric, lace, and ribbon scraps from my mom's sewing pile. I spent all night on it. When I was done, it was absolutely beautiful--I'm not kidding when I say it looked like it could have been done professionally. I was an artistic kid. That year I didn't get any valentines.


Finally, in fourth grade I just stopped accepting valentines. If I refused them all, then it wasn't their doing that I had less. It was no longer a passing of judgement. It was just me being weird. I preferred being laughed at for weirdness, instead of being laughed at for the pettiness of others. (This is my blog, I can angst about grade school as much as I please. :P )


I've only had two real boyfriends. Both have been in the past year and a half. This is only the second Valentine's Day in my life that I've had anyone to care about, or who cared about me, besides my parents. I'm still a little shocked by that. Doesn't he know that I'm weird, and fat, and unacceptable? His friends will make fun of him for talking to me. If he wants to be popular, he'd better laugh like everyone else.


It sounds petty and whiny. Hell, it -is- petty and whiny. That doesn't change the fact that it took me ten years of school and a move of 2500 miles to actually find a real friend, and a larger group of people that wouldn't spread nasty rumors about me, throw things at my head, and stick sharpened pencils into my butt or thigh when I wasn't looking. When people ask me why I'm so afraid of social interaction, I really have to try not to laugh. What isn't scary about it? The first thing I learned in school was that there were two groups of people--the Acceptable and the Unacceptable--and that you stayed in either one group or the other. The second thing I learned was that I was Unacceptable. This didn't change, not even for a single day, until I moved across the country. Even now I catch myself looking at my friends and wondering when the other shoe is going to drop, and they figure out that I'm not worth the trouble.


Yeah. I kind of hate this holiday. Bring on the zombies.

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Boy howdy, your school experience sounds painfully familiar. Social interaction from grades 1 through 11 were what formed my World's Shyest Redhead Disappearing Act. (I finally said f*ck it in my senior year of high school and decided that if I was going to be classed as a mutant no matter what I did, then I was going to take my cues from John Hughes movies. A cross-country move a few months after graduation sent me right back to being painfully shy, and I didn't come back out f my shell for years.)


To this day, I'm not keen on Hallmark Day; if it gets observed at all, I prize things that I have gotten on the day that are different. Best Feb. 14th gift ever? My Grad Student bought me a black felt, snap-brim fedora.


So yeah -- bring on the zombies! (Neat bit of trivia: The Return of the Living Dead is set in my hometown of Louisville, KY; and while the credits don't seem to list Louisville as a filming location, I recognized several locations as not being in California. ) ;)

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Kids are assholes. I was "that kid" too, I have no idea why. The one no one would sit next to, never had a partner in group projects, always got picked last for teams. Actually I guess it is not the same - no one went out of their way to pick on me, it was more like I was invisible.


TO this day I am not pick on Valentines Day, I think The Man is a little puzzled by this. He is getting me a subscription to a monster/zombie magazine for V-day, so that is sort of appropriate, right?

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Yup-another one of those geeky kids-even though Im decades older now-people used to get in fights as to who would have to pick me to be on their team for gym class...and finally,one day when I finally(for the first time) hit the volleyball over the net, even the other team yelled)



It's kind of weird, because even though it's decades later now, the 'angst" of the outsiderenss remains to some degree.I HATE a lot of group activities that have an athletic emphasis, and only feel secure in hiking or other situations if Im with soemone I trust.

And I hate competitive sports, and I clearly remember how mean kids can be...and it seems it can take a toll on us....


However, this weekend Im gonna do something I havent done since college(attend a B movie marathon) YEAH-and Im going on my own(how brave)let's hope I can stay awake!!!!!!!!



here's to all our slhockathons!!!

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I was that kid in school too. I was the geek that was even shunned by the other geeks. I wasn't even good enough for their standards. It sucks. When I was in high school I was talking to this girl who made girl scouts a living hell for me. She told me that every time she and the other girls would choose a younger girl to make cry. Most of the time, she said, they choose me because it was so easy. But what got me was that she was laughing the whole time she told me this, like it was just a big joke. It wasn't like she was apologizing or even sorry about it. It took everything I had not to shove the flag pole I was holding up her ass. (At the time, we were on the marching bad color guard together.) She was the reason I dropped out the girl scouts.


Mr Man and I barely celebrate VDay. We get each other joke gifts, if we even get each other anything. I remember one year I got him South Park: The Movie and shiny heart boxers - b/c nothing says, "I love you" like South Park and boxers.


And sometimes - even after 4 years and an engagement ring - I still worry that he'll figure out that I'm broken inside and leave me - even though he insists that I'm not broken and that I'm not getting rid of him.

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