Where can one buy a set of blue stickers for 20c?

Is it me or do eggs suddenly taste like powder?
It's a wonder.
So Christmas happened, and I have a tiny bruise the size of a fingerprint on the inside of my upper arm. This is most likely from little gremlins stealing into my room at night and punishing me for not painting them correctly, even though I've told them A THOUSAND TIMES that I'm painting elves- ELVES YOU HEARING-IMPAIRED FREAKS! GREMLINS JUST AREN'T CAPTURED QUALITY, I'M 'FRAID, BUT I'M NOT REALLY 'FRAID BECAUSE I DONT SPEAK SLANG- or from dressing up in fairy attire and roaming the streets at odd hours.
~ What exactly is an 'odd hour'? Any time that people would normally be asleep: say ten at night until six in the morning? And why is this odd? Does this accusation not hurt the feelings of these lonesome hours just sitting around the hands of time, minding their own business, sometimes poking each other or trying unsuccessfully to swap places?
Would a number still be the same if it changed position around the clock?
A lot of my day has revolved around me spilling and dropping food on myself. If that isn't class I don't know what is.

Here is my jar of all the good things that happened in 2013:

I wrote every extraordinary experience; every event, person or conversation that gave me that warm glow of happiness, on a small piece of paper, folded it into a microscopic speck and dropped it in, as if I was a child writing wishes to be sent off for the Reality Making Factory. Then I forgot about it.
It's all very thrilling. A lot of my happy notes are about having fun with friends and chance meetings.
Life swings on it's own orbit and throws us around, and a lot of the time we're too busy complaining and remembering the bad times that we forget about the good ones.
This one time, I had dreams.
I knew how life should go.
I really did, but I was just a kid,
and little did I know,
how hard the world would hit,
how easy it was to fall,
how the things you think would help you
were never there at all.
~No, I think you're wrong!
You've been old for so long,
and look tired from holding on
so tight,
It's alright,
cast your woes aside and write,
and dream
and believe,
that your wishes weren't pretend,
your broken faith I can mend,
take my hand, I know you can,
and let me help you shine again.

>It all started with one warm yet rainy day when I decided to purchase a painting for no reason. It ended with me misspelling chocolate and drinking slightly cool peppermint tea with milk because I had believed it to be Earl Grey. I scowled into my Milky Earl, wondering why there was no Cerri Grey, or even Cerri Red, or Cerri Green.
The flavours of Cerri just aren't defined, and it says a lot about the system.
I think I'd like to be Earl Cerri, and each batch would be different so people would protest in loud voices waking up elderly neighbours napping, and bump absent-mindedly into furniture, and swear obscenely whilst on crowded transport and even spit into the faces of strangers who would soon become lifelong friends.
All because of Cerri and the inability to capture all that is with only one flavour.

.. >_<

How do I serve mince pies like a lady?

"Christmas!" I yell into my eggnog and drain the whole glass in one gulp.
"What is that god awful stench?"
I squint to my left and see a massive light-blue blob with fuzzy edges. "I must say, Aunt Hilda, you've grown atrociously since I last saw you," I remark as I fumble for the eggnog bottle as if I was experiencing an alarming eggnog craving.
"That's quite enough, I think."
"Dragon?"
My glass is snatched from my grasp and I make up for this by taking a swig from the bottle, perhaps a little smugly at my genius, but mostly awkwardly and with a lot of spillage.
"How long have you been here?" I demand.
"I arrived when you started talking to the carrots," he says and takes the bottle as well.
I nod, "They were insulting me!"
Dragon makes that soothing noise you hear in mental institutions.
"They were telling me I'm the wrong colour!"
"Yes, well, you very well might be."
"Now listen here," I start grandly, feeling fruitlessly around the table, "Never, in all the history, have I been so... so... insisted!"
"Yes, that's fascinating," I vaguely make out him taking a sip of my glass, "By the way, I'm going away for Christmas and I've used all your tinsel."
Then he walks off, humming and swinging his tail, taking my eggnog and my views on colour coordination with him. Can something only be true if more than one person believes it so? I'd like to believe that one person can make something real by really getting out there and having the faith, but maybe that is foolish. Maybe the carrots are right and everything should be a hideous shade of orange.
"What do you mean you've taken all my tinsel?" I yell, suddenly aware of everything all at once so my head starts to pound, "I don't own any tinsel!" And I realise that, somehow without me noticing, dragon has gone and used all my grandmothers fuzzy woollen scarves to decorate the house.

^_^v

Is there a light that I can follow?

Things I have done:

# Chalked random areas on pavement with POLKA DOTTED chalk. It's like all my dreams have come true at once. It's awesome, and if I was any kind of blogger I would have photos, but I'm not and I don't, so I accept this.

# Purchased an elf hat on a whim.

# Cleaned out my car half-heartedly and found ten cents, a jar of used vegemite, a random breath freshener, half eaten toast, two pens, a Cool Klub cup and a receipt from Spotlight.

# Went crazy, but not in the insane way that would make sense so I can't even describe it.

# Made two Christmas cards ^_^.

# Saved four slugs and one gecko.

# Searched the word 'gecko' after trying to spell it four times and realised all four attempts were WRONG.

# Dressed up like evil Alice from wonderland and plotted a murderous rampage by cupcakes with Knuckles from sonic.

# Wondered about something odd, and then forgot about it, and will probably never remember it, so I feel sort of sad about this.


In a strange way, it's all rather odd. Everyone who ever goes anywhere is rather odd. Anyone who does anything is rather odd. I meet people all the time and I wonder what they do in their houses. What kind of toilet paper do they use? Do they eat jam for breakfast? Are the paintings on the walls their own? Are the fake plants only there because they hate watering or was it a present? How many times a day do they hang their coat up (because you'd think it would be once, but maybe it falls down or the hook is loose or they have bad eye-sight or they go out two times every day..)? How many times do they stir their coffee? How many bars of soap do they have? Are they the kind of people who like to buy eggs with smiley faces?
Do they read the daily messenger?
I read the daily messenger once and I can't say it was stimulating to my brain cells. I've always wondered if someone somewhere is constructing The Quibbler from HP, because that would stimulating and exciting and a type of nonsense that the world needs.
THE WORLD NEEDS NONSENSE.
I have a plastic sword that lights up at inconvenient times. Not even.

I tried saying all the things you say
and going round the longer way,
I tired standing taller
and being smaller,
peering harder and looking cooler.
But the masks fall off,
and your mighty games
turn out to be just dumb charades,
and when you've had enough
of the mockery,
you cry and blame society,
and I guess you're right
when you sacrifice
your burning light so you seem 'alright'.
But how long until the end,
how long until they forget these trends?
Until your simple world of mirrors,
and all those sparkles and those glimmers,
turn out to be pretend?