ALL YOUR SHAKESPEARE ARE BELONG TO US

I am going to see how many ALL YOUR BASE titles I can do before it all caves in. I figure, as life goals go, not a bad one.

Am madly in love with a girl named Joanna. Srsly. She is a Shakespeare person and a ballerina and her name is really Joanna. (But no H.) I start singing every time I see her. I'm thinking this is not improving my chances of getting blessed by she of the yellow hair. Sadly, she actually doesn't have yellow hair, she has perfectly mundane brown hair, but what the hell. As I am, after all, the Demon Barber of the High School, I suppose that any relationship would be OMGINCESTBAD but oh well. My last crush was on a cowboy named Erik, and seeing as I was once the Phantom of the Junior High, that's almost like masturbation.

I am going to pull my mind out of the gutter now. I PROMISE. REALLY.

Oh, like that's even possible. I'm a teenager. Whaddaya want from me?

LADY PERCY: O my good lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offense have I this fortnight been
A banished woman from my Harry's bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
And start so often when thou sit'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks
And given my treasures and my rights of thee
To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,
Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talked
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
Like bubbles in a late-disturbèd stream,
And in thy face strange motions have appeared,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.

That's what I have to memorize fore Ye Olde Classe of the Manne Who Shooke A Speare. Le sigh.

Well, frankly, all I had to hear was, "You're married to Harry Hotspur from Henry IV," and I was sold on the part. Srsly. Hotspur. He is one smexy historical fiction character. (He acts exactly as you would imagine a guy named Hotspur to act, by the by.)

I want to see Pirates of the Caribbean so bad. The world continues to conspire against me.

ALL YOUR SHAKESPEARE ARE BELONG TO US.