Te audire non possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in Squid aure.

Hello, humans.

Yes, I know. I can almost see the displeasure oozing from your pores. Allow me to explain. My prolonged absence was due to a highly unavoidable vision quest that the Supreme Yogi of Greater Tibet was kind enough to invite me on. It was memorable.

Actually, it was due to chronic laziness. And this laziness was due to the simple fact that I have nothing new to write about. And when one finds him- or herself in this predicament, he or she should attempt to learn something new and then inform others, so as to make the world a slightly more educated place. So I shall do so. You are about to become a semi-expert on the Giant Squid.

Pictured above is, of course, a Giant Squid. To give you a full understanding of their size, however, I now present you with a recent photo of my Great Aunt Bertha, pictured alongside a fishing boat:

She is a large one, my Great Aunt Bertha. In fact, she is the largest giant Squid ever seen by humans, measuring 59 feet long and nearly a ton. This is because she is a compulsive overeater and will devour just about anything within her sight. She ate my Great Uncle Mort last year after he refused to take her out for dinner. Most giant Squids grow to be the size of a bus--so big, in fact, that they can hold their own in a fight against a whale. Rumor has it that an entire section of the classic tale of Moby Dick was removed before publishing, because of an unflattering portrayal of the great whale... it lost to a Squid, you see, after a short and pathetic attempt at battle. Pansy.

Squids are also natural jet engines. Water is drawn into the mantle and then pushed out through the funnel at very high speeds-- an alarmed Squid can propel him- or herself up to 25 body lengths per second. Humans, of course, cannot. What is often mistaken for a Squid Fart is actually ink called Sepia, which confuses the attacker (Fart? Ink? Will it smell? Will it stain my clothes? Oh wait, I'm underwater. Hang on, where did that Squid go?) long enough for the Squid to escape (and giggle privately at his or her skills).

Sometimes Squids are murdered and made into Calamari. I prefer not to dwell on the negatives.

Most Giant Squids are caught in Japan, which is a strange human nation that specializes in humorous television shows and iron chefs. They probably cook Calamari.

All this talk about Calamari is utterly ruining my tranquil acceptance of humans... You shall learn no more from this Squid today!

Glaringly,

Squidmore

Squiddum delecto.

Happy Birthday to The Human
There's nothing that rhymes with human
There ARE, however rhymes for Squid
So Happy 19th, Strange Kid!

I'm sure the human will appreciate that original ditty I just composed. In other news, registering for classes seems like an absolute nightmare that I am immensely glad to be skipping. And the human is trading roommates next semester so I will be living in different quarters... I barely had time to get attached to this room, frankly, before they ship me off to a new one. Such is the life of a plush squid.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Antiquis Squid temporibus, nati tibi similes et rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem

Greetings, all. I felt my presence on this website was somewhat lacking as of late...so here I am, ready to inject intelligence and perhaps an ounce of amusement into your dreary lives once more. There is not much to write about in regards to my own life, unfortunately. I still enjoy lurking in the dark recesses of the library and squidding merrily around campus, jumping on the crunchy leaves that liberally coat the ground.

The human would like to officially announce that, contrary to previous claims, she will indeed be attempting to grow her hair out again. If I still had advertisements on this page, this post would no doubt lead to another round of hair-related solicitations. That, however, is another story. In any case, she is now looking at two to three years of waiting and horrid-looking hair... really, I simply do not understand humans sometimes. The smartest ones become bald as quickly as possible and remain that way.

The human also wishes to publicly declare that she will soon come to regret her latest decision in regard to her 3D design class. Although it has not yet been officially assigned, the next project will apparently consist of the design and fabrication of a toy that uses mechanical, moving parts. Naturally, the human will be going with an overly-complicated and time-consuming marionette--a wooden, carved, painted, clothed, moving marionette. To demonstrate her understanding and acceptance of her own foolishness, I shall quote her briefly: "Kill me now."

Really, this is not a public broadcasting system of all the goings-on in my human's life. She just requested that I also put out a few words of admiration towards her favorite band, which is, of course, the Wheaton Warrenville South High School Tiger Marching Band. This band not only has an obnoxiously long name that evidentally needed to be multicolored, but they are (and here I paraphrase) the SINGLE GREATEST MARCHING BAND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND THE FLUTELINE IS RIVALED BY NONE OTHER. The human would like to add that the DUMB is dumb and she is still stuck in the glory days of the TMB. She would also like to point out that she travelled 16 hours by bus and 4 hours by Fred just to see them on the field for less than ten minutes. And she would like to emphasize that it was the best day of the year thus far.
Clearly she is one of those fans who stalks the band, hunts them down before and after performances, and jumps on top of the musicians, ensuring hugs and general chaos. They may have cause to be concerned.

After that shameless and biased promotion, I am feeling the pangs of hunger. Until next time, then.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ubi est vestri Deus nunc? Vetus mulier quod Squid triumphus!

The human had a rather amusing anecdote after her walk today, so I shall immortalize it here to provide a laugh to the general population. She was somewhere around 44th street, she told me, when she saw one of those dreadfully annoying religious zealots who solicit door to door and attempt to convert innocent victims coming down the other side of the street. He was unsuccessful for two houses, but as my human came close to passing him she saw a little old lady open the door to the next house. Apparently she listened to him for all of ten seconds before she began yelling at him to "Get the [heck] off of my porch, you can take your [gol' darned] book and go to [hades]--" (since I take the utmost care to live a G-rated life, I censored the geriatric's crude language to protect your innocence). And then, to my human's glee, the old bag rolled up the newspaper she had been holding and attempted to beat the zealot around the head! My human had paused to watch the drama unfold, but when she burst into laughter at the sight of this ancient hero's antics she felt it was best to continue moving, lest the crusader launch into a safer conversion attempt (my human, unlike the geriatric, was not armed). It is always good to watch a wrinkled old prune beat the living daylights out of a religious soliciter. If there is a more irritating creature alive, I have yet to learn of it.

Cheers and rolled-up newspapers,
Squidmore

Totus est puteus per Squid quod humanus.

After that unpleasant entry from yesterday, in which both squid and human were in fie-the-world-and-all-the-humans-in-it mode, I felt it necessary to reassure all my concerned readers (of which there are probably five or six in total. Still, this matters not.) that all is again well in room 413. The human found the hot chocolate in Hubbell up to her standards, and has nearly forgiven Walgreens for not stocking any of the sweet nectar. She also went on another walk today, and while she neither got lost or re-connected with her feline friend (much to my relief--imagine if, having escaped the Triple Terror of 2019, I suddenly found myself roommates with yet a new cat. I shudder to think of it...), she quite enjoyed the wander and the weather nonetheless. She has also finished up her midterms, and is looking forward to a week of smooth sailing until her visit home. I will be remaining here during that time, and catching up on some much-needed work on my dissertation. True, I have several years of schooling left, but one can never work too far in advance.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Latine Squid loqui coactus sum.

Hello, humans. It has been a week since last I graced your life with some intelligent reading, and hopefully you have not sunk into a typical human stupor since then. There has been absolutely nothing of interest to write about as of late--college is not nearly as thrilling an adventure as I'd hoped. The weather has turned very chilly, and my tentacles tend to become alarmingly stiff when I venture outside under aforementioned conditions, so I have been confining myself as much as possible to endeavors of the indoor sort. I am in top bed-bouncing form, although it becomes a trifle irritating to knock one's head against the ceiling on every third bounce or so. Still, with no feline annoyances and access to books of higher learning, I do feel that this is an appropriate environment for an intellectual squid such as myself. If anything interesting happens in the near future, you shall hear about it... until then, keep those brains stimulated! The level of human intelligence I witness here seems to drop lower and lower every week. It makes me very grateful that I am a squid.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Addendum: As I am a squid in a rather bad mood, I shall now take a moment, as I sometimes do, to register a complaint about humans. Today, the complaint is about the word "ridiculous." A perfectly innocent word, you may say. You probably have even used it yourself recently. Let us think about that. How recently? And how many times? Based on my observations, this word is used at least four to six times a day by the average teenage human online alone... Vocally, I dare not even investigate. This is a disgustingly overused word, utilized by humans who, having fallen into the trap of word popularity, do not have the capabilities to think of a different adjective/adverb. It is "the" word to use, and saying it seems to make humans think they fit in and sound cool. I am very proud to say that my own human, having discovered this phenomenon several years ago, has ENTIRELY ceased using this word and is able to feel independent-minded and superior because of it. Humans, can you break free of mediocre, unthinking conformity? Or will you continue beating this word into the ground with the rest of the teenage masses? Frankly, I do not have very high hopes for the former.

Second Addendum: My long-suffering human would like to express an unhappiness of her own. Generous squid that I am, I shall turn the blog over to her for a moment.
GRGLPLQXXZHNURGHHHHHH. YOU DON'T NEED TO "LIKE" EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN STATUS THAT YOU-KNOW-WHO-IM-TALKING-ABOUT POSTS. I know what you're doing. And since you don't read this, I'm allowed to mention that I really, really, really DON'T LIKE YOU. I really never have. Also, you're one of the people who uses the word "ridiculous" WAY TOO FRICKIN MUCH. Yet another distinctly un-endearing quality. Please go away.
The poor human is not having the most pleasant day today. And Walgreens does not sell hot cocoa mix, which she did not fail to bemoan, so she remains unable to brew herself up a remedy. She just told me that it was rather therapeutic to vent anonymously into a blog that few people are interested in, so perhaps I shall allow her the privilege more often. I really am far too kind. More addendums may follow, depending on the prevailing mood of room 413.

Homines, non Squid, libenter quod volunt credunt.

This will be a very short entry, but a necessary one. Humans, take note. The word "alright" does not, has never, and should not pretend to exist. It is "all right." Count the words: one, two.
Similarly, the word "alot" is not real. It ALSO has two words: "a lot." You would never write "I had alittle homework tonight," so why on earth would you write "alot?"

Foolish humans who make spelling and grammar mistakes give me migraines.

Cheers (and grumbles),
Squidmore