"That's very dark magic, very dark magic indeed."

Yesterday, as I was blog stalking (a favorite past time) I came across a fellow classmate/acquaintance's blog. Her name is Jessie. Jessie Marquis. And, I, personally, believe she is so cool. so cool. Well, she just recently turned 17, meaning, she can now legally practice magic outside of school. Lucky Girl. Lucky Girl. Anyhow, on her birthday post, or a post near to it, she noted what her horcruxes would be. IF she was a dark wizard, only saying. Well, of course since I have recently become a Harry Potter fan, I figured I should adopt this little strike of genius into my blogging, though I give her full props and credit. Yet, here it is.

Seeing as I have been housed into Slytherin, yet, I am one of the few Slytherins who have no beef with Gryffindor, It is possible that I could one day become a dark wizard, perhaps adopt the ways of Bellatrix Black, the greatest witch, in my opinion, of all time, it is only natural to dream about Horcruxes. I would also, just as You-Know-Who, have seven, it just seems like a good number. And my Horcruxes would be...

1. Eggburt, My petrock. The one I hold nearest and dearest to my heart.
2. Either my "Don't bust the crust" or my "keep bears wild" button.
3. Rusty, the pet wrench.
4. A lone krispy kreme donut hat
5. My first ever ugly sweater.
6. Brownie, Brown Bear (favorite stuffed animal since age five)
7. My "surf skin" wetsuit.

These all seem quite simple, but mind you, they would be very well hidden. Very well.

Okay. So speaking of dark magic, night before last, after Zumba and a shower, I was dead tired and as I closed my Book of Mormon, I immediately fell asleep. You see, I sleep better if I shower. If my hair is wet, my slumber is more peaceful. I don't really know if this is true, I reckon it could be mind over matter, but whatever, its a quirk then. So, I layed my head on that pillow and my wet hair began to soak through my sweatshirt onto my shoulders, there is something about that, but its a peaceful feeling, I like it. The key to this story is that my hair, my wet hair was down. Down. Not up. Down. I fell asleep. I reckon I had nice dreams. I always have nice dreams. Well, next morning, alarm clock buzzes, I awake with a start, I roll, fresh out of the wrapper and get on my knees for morning prayer, as I relax my head on my hands, something falls on top of my knuckles. It feels like hair. I immediately pause my prayer and my hand flies to my head, there, on top of my head is a bun. A nice, messy, haphazardly thrown into position bun, which I know i did not do. I pulled my hair out of the bun and it was still damp. Dampness was good, which reassured me that I HAD showered the night before.

Meaning of story? I do not, I repeat, do not, at all, in anyway, shape or form remember waking up in the dead of the night to put my hair into a mass atop my head. I do not recall.
hence: dark magic. dark magic indeed.

P.S. Bunny Boy, today, after I gave him a standing ovation, told me this: "Mandi, if you ever call me bunny boy again, I will skin you alive and roast you over a spit just like those bunnies." I reckon bunny boy doesn't like standing ovations yeah?