Fuck

So, NaNoWriMo is kicking my ass. It's seven days in and I've writen a little over 5,000 words. The website says I'll be done ine late December. Fuck you NaNoWriMo website! You don't know how well I scramble and finish shit when it comes to the deadline. I see myself at 6:30 on November 30th typing like a coffee fuelled mad woman, which I will be. In fact, I think I'll go write right now. And don't read that last sentence out loud. It'd make your head hurt.

Plans

To me honest, I don't actually like talking about myself. So I'm gonna use a starting phrase that will help to

I have been feeling...
I had thought......
I plan to......

And so on and so forth. This might help to organize my thoughts since I'm honestly all over the fucking place.

So I'll get started. I have two plans to maintain this month and I will explain them to you. First, I will be committing to Nanowrimo, which is short for National Novel Writing Month. This takes place world wide and I will be working with my friend Sarah. We're not working together, but we're gonna spend time going over our ideas and help each other plot our storylines. I feel that this is NOT going to work because the two of us are so completely opposite and our minds work so differently. But we'll try. Sarah also has a new place, the first in our group to have their own place.
Second, November will be the first No-Books-For-Ashley month. I'm not allowed to buy any book for any price and I'm not allowed to order any either. The only exception is the fall booksale at the public library. This will probably be the last sale until the spring so I want to get in their to get some great deals. But I was spending too much money on books, going to the libraries, this constant yard sale, Value Village, etc.
So I'm gonna be really fucking pissed for most of November. Its gonna be fun!
Not.

Tuesday Blues

So today has not been a good day. I woke up way late for school and I felt like a complete failure. Why can't I get my lazy ass out of bed? My day hadn't even started and I felt like crap. I dressed and everything then I went downstairs to see my mom, who usually makes me feel better. To cut to the point, because I could go on and on, I didn't go to school. Although my mom was really calm about it (no punishment, no anger) I was angry with myself. I always feel like a loser on days I stay home and today was no different. Mom, Bigger and I ended up going out, shopping a little and picking up Bigger's boyfriend Stretch to run errands. We stopped at a bunch of places I like, like Value Village where Mom bought me earrings and a bottom for my quilt (which I will post here as I didn't my last one). But all day I couldn't shake the feeling that it was a bad day. We stopped at Big's work and had lunch with her and when she asked why I wasn't at school, I couldn't answer. She said "I care about you, but you won't tell me what's wrong." That's the whole problem, I don't know what's wrong and I don't have the time anymore to figure it out. I want to graduate and have a life, and I can't do that with poor attendance and shitty grades. I have to do better.
     
When we got back, there was a message on the answering machine that informed me that I had missed my practical exam for Vocal class. I was upset, but I had no right to be. I PURPOSELY skipped school today and I have to deal with the consequences. I missed a day with my friends, most of whom are not coming back next year and who I won't see so much over the summer. I missed seeing the boy I liked, and I made myself nervous about asking him out.

To help me get better, to try to help me have more good days than bad, my mom has an idea about how I can help myself. She wants me to start writing down my activities, so I can see what I'm doing during the day and try to fill my life with more things, better things. She even has goals:

1) Volunteer at a least two places, at least once a week
2) A job search done at least once a week with provided rides
3) Exercise at least once a day, just one activity (with the extra weight and the diabetes, this is big)
4) Spend a little time doing a relaxation activity (her term) such as knitting, reading or quilting etc., but not spend my entire day doing this. I think I may have a few relaxation days during the summer just so I can get some writing done, but her idea sounds good.

So. I have goals. I have ambitious that need time, concentration and energy put into them.
I have things to make, things to say and things to do. I have exams to ace! I have a boy to ask out.

Wish me luck.

P.S. What's up with you? Any plans? Any secrets desires that you want spontaneously to burst forth and fill you with energy and determination? Now I'm curious. Go on. :)

Snow Day Number 2 of January

   It sounds like an official title, but really, that's a lie.
 
         Dear 2 foot pile of snow in my driveway,
I hate you. It has nothing to do with your looks, your personality or your attitude. This hatred occurs mainly because you exist, and more importantly, you exist in my driveway. At first I didn't really notice. Only after you tried to trap my father leaving for work did I become aware of your existance, and learned that I need to remove you. This hatred grew when I spent my Wednesday sleeping, mainly from 7:30 that morning until 2:30 that afternoon, which happened to be the exact hours that I have for actually going to school. The hatred then compounded when I was told to use the snow floe. I hate the snow floe. Many of my childhood winter days tried to sit in that stupid ice floe in order to be pulled around my yard. I could never sit the snow floe. I could never catch it as my parents pulled it around, trying to clear the snow.
   So really, this hatred has nothing to do with you exactly, but the fact that I had to move you created this animosity. But mother insisted, and you were removed. Slowly, and having to return twice and heat up with a hair dryer, I pushed you almost completely onto the road for the plow to push away. I killed you. ah ha ha ha ha ha! But, and this makes me want to cry, just a little, you came back yesterday, AFTER I had cleared you, and now you are back, mocking me. You are a bastard, and I will defeat you, because I really have no choice since my mother will make me shovel you later. I hate you, you ugly whore.

To the blog, Not you pile of snow. I shall be back later with pictures. Or I'll google white and post that, because its really snowy here.

A Joke

   You may not realize this, but I'm fucking hilarious. No, it doesn't really matter whether you agree, in my heart I know its true. So it is. Just like that peeps. Magic. 
  So because I'm hilarious, I enjoy a good joke. 
  Here is one. 


A politician dies. He awakes at the Pearly Gates, in front of a slightly confused St. Peter. He asks Pete what's up. 
  Pete replies, "Well sir, you're name is here on the dead list, but it doesn't specify where you're to go. Now I've been thinking and I've decided to let you decide. You can go to either, because you've been a good person through charities you've supported but you've been bad too, being a politician. So, you're gonna spend a day in heaven and a day in hell. Where do you wanna go first?"
   The politician shrugs and says "I guess we'll go down first." So he takes the elevator below. When he arrives and steps out, he is greeted by a glorious sight. An endless expanse of a perfect cut grass makes the most beautiful golf course in existence. Piles of sinful food sends mouth watering scents though the air. Crowded on the tables are bottles of hundred year old whiskey and scotch and champagne. Woman of all shapes and sizes await his every whim. And man! All of his friends are down here. 
   The politician spends the day in absolute ecstasy, drinking and golfing and fucking and hanging with old friends. The day ends and he takes the elevator back up to the gates. Here he enters heaven. It's cool, with harps and angels and shit, and the politician is torn. When the second day ends, St. Peter drags the politician back out to the Pearly Gates. 
  "Alright," Pete says, "which will it be: heaven or hell?"
   "Well I don't know," the politician replies, "hell is, well, hell, and heaven is lovely and all, but hell, man it's got everything! The golf course, the food, the booze, the women and all my buddies. I know it doesn't sound right, but Pete, I think I'm gonna head down to hell.
  St. Peter nods his head and sends the politician back down the elevator. When he arrives at the gates of hell this time, its fire and brimstone and torture and shit. The politician stands there stunned when Lucifer happens to pass by. The politician gets Satan's attention and asks "what the hell is this place? I was here yesterday, and it was nothing like this. Where's the course and the booze and the women? Where'd they go?" 
   Lucifer shrugs, "Yesterday was the campaign. You voted for hell and the election's over."     
  
Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week.
     I got this joke from my grandfather's old friend (the friend isn't old but my grandfather's dead, so technically, its Grandpa's former friend). While out eating tonight, my parents and I overhead him telling this joke to his dinner companion. I thought it was awesome, especially since the friend is a politician. I changed it a bit, mainly because I wasn't paying attention for the first part of the joke and partly because I'm better at telling jokes. Oh modestly, thy name is not mine. 
    Night dorks. 


BTW, the word "ecstasy" was originally capitalized by Blogger. Nice, Blogger. Real nice, you fucking druggie. 

Things that Happened Since We Last Spoke

  Which occurred sometime last week when I spoke about marble busts. What?, you say. You spoke of marble busts (or is it busks, huh)?! How exciting, how adventurous. Anyway.

1.    Blogger has changed its template (program, oh whatever, its the viewy thing), which I do NOT like. I didn't like the other one either, so you can ignore this one. Wow, I feel like I'm trying to make a list on Microsoft Word, which I cannot do, and everything is fucking up.  
2.    I decided to clean my laptop (aka Marco, yes he does have a name) keyboard. This was a bad idea because a) I had no idea how to pop keys bad into place b) I have split salsa, a whole glass of water and either a smushed raspberry or a strawberry on the whole thing so it is disgusting. I also have four cats, so it is HAIRY in their. But fortunately, armed with a good number of Lysol wipes (which I use for everything. Lysol, honey, you wanna hook me up I could wax on and on about the power of Lysol in all forms. Call me. Uh, well email me. Just get in touch babe.) Right, so the keyboard is clean and all. Well its kinda clean. All the salsa blotches are gone, so yay! Sadly, some of my keys don't like staying put and pop out randomly and the other one enjoy sticking or jamming. Fun times we're having, me and Marco. Dear Marco gonna get a kick in the screen and a trip to the dumpster. Don't fuck with me Marco, I'm warning you. 
3.     I listen to "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People around 43 times today. I think I'm in love. 
4. I wasted, I mean, enjoyed an entire day, an endless ten hours volunteering at the large Petsave. There were around two hundred cats and ten dogs. I was in frickin heaven peeps.

Shit that's gonna/got to happen
1.       I have to reschedule my appointment with my pediatrician. Yes, I have a kid doctor. You pause and probably say, isn't she seventeen? Yeah, I am but the internal doctor I was supposed to have doesn't take any patients younger than eighteen so I got a kiddie doctor. It sucks because I have to sit in a room with little kids every couple of months with my mom. Picture giant me, 5'8, build like a shithouse trying to blend in around three and two year olds. I love hanging out for twenty or thirty minute in an awkward situation. Ever happens again you call me up!
         The situation blows for a second time because my doctor's secretary asked to speak with my mother for my information because apparently I either don't know or am a liar. I know its policy but Christ lady, I'm old enough to be here with my own kid. You think I don't know my own goddamn address? It's funny that they won't take information from you at the age of seventeen but at eighteen I'll what, suddenly become an upstanding citizen and never lie and tell the whole truth? Oh please AND bite me.
          I have to reschedule because I procrastinated (there Mother, I admitted it. Are you happy?) and didn't schedule glucose testing until last Wednesday. The lab could only schedule me on the 15th of Spetember, which is a week before the doctor's appointment and the results take at least two weeks to come back. 
2.       I will be returning to school in under twelve hours. I'm so freaking nervous that I feel like vomiting. More on that later.                                                                         
            This rambling thing that occurs in the posts in very much true. If it doesn't contain rambling then it has probably been edited. I ramble and I try to just let everything flow when I write on here. If I do it here, I suppose, then I won't do it on assignments or essays in school and I (hopefully) won't do it as much at home. So if you don't like it, you can leave, because I'm sure it won't be a changing.                                                         
     Finally, if I go missing or wind up dead, check the laptop for any dents. (Marco probably did it) Heh, love you Marco <smiles winningly> 

Because you need the song stuck in your head too. 

The amnimals II (From Lilo and Stitch. I remembered the movie!!)

  I've recently become obsessed with puppies. I don't want a puppy, no not at all. In fact, every time I look at puppy, I go "ah, cute! way too much poop". Oh, yeah, poop is the main reason. But I love all animals, but right now, a puppy isn't in the works.
  I think I'm upset because I recently made a very serious decision. To me, the decision is epic, to the rest of the world, not so much.
  I mentioned recently that my family and I found a little black pregnant kitten in the backyard. Yeah, she did end up pregnant and a little over three weeks ago, she gave birth to two tiny, fuzzy adorable little kitties. One is black with a white under belly, she is so fricking adorable, and I named her Black n White (oh yeah, I'm original). The other one is mainly black like her mom, but she has blotches of white and gold and orange. Her original name was Reese's Pieces, because she looks like peanut butter and chocolate, but that name was veetoed (even though they're technically MY cats) and we all call her Peanut Butter.


Six weeks later, when I got around to finishing this post...


The big decision that was made is that we can't keep Black n White and Peanut Butter. They will be going to Petsave, the organisation where my mother and I volunteer as soon as possible. They will get lovely homes and live with good people. I have to tell myself this because if I even think otherwise, I feel like I'm gonna cry. They are evil little kitties, but somewhere deep down they're good too. Well maybe. Here are pictures. 

Black n White, sleeping

"You're an idiot" Peanut Butter's so hostile

"Don't take my damn picture! I'm gonna move, such to screw up you picture! Ha!" 

They both look evil. Mom and baby.

If you're good, you get more photos. And yeah, they swear a lot. They did grow up around me and Big. Big's swears more though. 
    Alright, get gone. Go pet a cat. Unless they're outside and will swipe you and you get rabies or cat scratch fever, like my sister Bigger. The fever, not rabies, although the rabies would explain a lot about Bigger. Just kidding. Uh, not. Just be good to cats people. Oh, and dogs. Yup, still obsessed with puppies. 

Random Shit

  Oh holy woah! I just discovered an amazing thing. So amazing. It's just freakin fantastic. You can link to a page like this one which is the general page or you can be specific, which I like when you click a link and its for an article that's halfway down the page so you end up not finding it and getting frustrated and you have to go along all confused and shit. So, you can do this amazing, extraordinary thing and be awesome and do this. You would not believe how freaking excited I got over this. I stopped everything I was doing just to show you. How special are you? Huh? Who's special? You are! Sorry, had a puppy moment. 

 I also picked up this fantastic book at my local Chapters. It was only ten bucks instead of the forty it would have been, plus I got an extra ten percent off. It's by the same author who wrote the Time Traveler's Wife and Her Fearful Symmetry. It's a quick read, but I love the pictures and the powerful feeling I got from the book. It's definitely a keeper and probably a read-to-children book, even if it's a little serious. 
  I'm also watching a fucking great tv series. It's so awesome, I don't even want my family members watching it because I don't wanna share. It's funny and serious and I hate her mother cause she's a whiny alcoholic, but other than that, it's great. 

That's Mary and Bobby D in the background. Marshall's gorgeous, but I didn't like the  background of the photos he was in. Heavens I'm picky. 

   Mary is so funny and poor Marshall just loves her and lives with it. It is just so fabulous. I need to find some time to start on the second season. I still have to watch two and three and I can't download the most recent episodes of season four, so I have to wait. Damn. I'm really just trying to spread it out so I don't run out like I did with Sons of Anarchy, like three times. I hate having to wait a whole year for the dvd. Blows big time. 
  Oooh, also made a fab flour-less chocolate cake that blew my mind. And I can make it whenever because a) gluten/wheat free and b) we have all the ingredients almost all the time (the eggs are a maybe, they come and go) And I took a picture of it, because I've been taking pictures of everything to put on the blog and its driving me insane because I see anything AT ALL, I want to photograph it and show you. I share too much. 

I wrote "hello" cause I'm both weird and friendly. Did it with a knife too. So cool. 

Alright, that's it. Go get a life. And watch good tv. And read great books. Oh! and eat chocolate cake. Of course. 

Oh, and, uh, yeah.

   I've been feeling kinda weird in the past few days. I've been lazing around the house, on the computer, watching television and feeling queasy. Currently, Mother and I are watching Will and Grace alongside Stargate SG-1, because obviously we are interesting and full of life. W & G happened because Mother bought one season at a yard sale and we both got hooked. I then ordered the rest of the series at the library. I love my library. We'll go back to that in a minute. 
  Mother owns the entire Stargate franchise (if you don't know what the is, I'm am ashamed for you, and here you go. Yeah, I use Wikipedia. Shut up)It's been about a year since we've watched it, and those were only the later seasons with Vala (I fucking love Vala! She's so awesome.) Mother and I will be doing a marathon, as we did with Buffy earlier this year. Watching Buffy again was so awesome because Big, Bigger, Mother and I watched the early years (Pre-Dawn) about six or seven years ago, so it was great because I couldn't remember some really good episodes from the third and fourth seasons. 
   Side note: I'm watching an episode of Stargate SG-1 (you're surprised, aren't you?) in season 2 called Spirits about exploiting Native Americans, and I'm kinda tired of the nice Indian stereotype). 
   So besides endless marathons, I've been reading the blogs of Lucy March and Jennifer Crusie, and it's tons of fun. March's a Year and Change is interesting, but sometimes it's a little serious, so I go to Crusie's, who's a bit more light hearted and longer with more funny. Crusie also includes snippets from her books, published and unpublished and her journeys with other writers and her collaborators (Eileen Dreyer, Anne Stuart and Bob Mayer, there are more, but I'm not that far in the archives). It's freaking fabulous. 
   I also have to watch the two series, In Plain Sight and Murphy Brown. For Murphy Brown, I'm reading the book, What Would Murphy Brown Do?, a series of essays about feminism and women power in sitcoms. I'm kinda only reading it because I typed Murphy Brown in at the library and the book popped up. 
  I fell queasy because I've been eating gluten, including one dumpling, which tasted delicious but did not feel good an hour later. I also ate about seven bowls of cereal over the last few days that doesn't have an gluten/wheat products in it, but contained oat flour, which is generally contaminated by wheat in the processing plants. Oh, I didn't mention it before? I don't eat gluten because it fucks me up. I don't think I have celiac disease, but I believe I could have an intolerance or allergy. We'll see, with some tests upcoming. 
  Another little medical drama is that I have been clinically diagnosed with PCOS (poly cystic ovarian syndrome). Yay! I`m actually quite nice to have a confirmed diagnosis and a solid answer to all the shit that I`ve been going through since I was ten. Although, now I know that it is gonna be difficult for me to concieve and the weight is probably never going to come off, no matter how much I exercise (or I`ll gain it back). But the really serious parts, the heart disease and the diabetes are two risks I`m almost guaranteed to have, especially since I already have diabetes. Yay! Didn't I mention that? Oops. 
   My keyboard is so fucked up, I have to google `question mark`then copy and paste it because my computer is a bilingual bitch. 
   Big is also in the Other Province with Biggest and will be there for another week. It sucks cause I miss her. And what sucks even worse is that Mother told Big on the telephone, so there goes all my cool.   
   And I forgot. My library is so awesome because they buy tons of books I love or get me books from other libraries when they can`t get it. All the librarians love me as well because I go almost every day. Their love is even more fabulous because they usually glare or don`t like all the other people I hang out with, which makes me special. 


“In my culture, I would be well within my rights to dismember you.” Teal`c to Colonel Maybourne. I hate Maybourne, he`s such a fucking asshole.   


I just read this article. It was so funny. Don`t read it if you`re at work or around people you get embarrassed around. 


Tootles. Ha, spell check said that was a word. Score!
   

Let's Talk Today

  I wonder if perhaps I should save this post until September, when everyone will be thinking more about this. But with the attacks on Oslo and Utoya, I believe the time is now, and we should talk today. 
  I'm seventeen. When the airplanes crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, I was seven. I was sitting at home in front of the television when my program was interrupted and they showed the footage of the smoking Towers. 
  I believe I turned to my mother and asked her what was wrong, and why was that building on fire. She explained that someone had flew a plane into it to make it flame. I wondered whether anyone had been hurt, but I knew from the smoke that it would be really hard to breath in there. I hoped everyone could get down the stairs. 
  A second after, the anchorman (or woman, not sure) came on and said that a warning had been issued for Toronto's CN tower, and Canadians should be on high alert. That scared me, even though we were living in Saskachewan at the time, but it was the thought that anyone would come into Canada and try to hurt people like that freaked me out. 
  
  In 2001, those shots of the Towers and subsequent footage lead me to live with a feeling of dread, it made me fearful. A fear for the ones I love, for my world and the future. Now, though, I'm not afraid. I'm pissed. 
  Today, an attack was made on a building in Oslo, Norway, causing seven known deaths and multiple injuries. But what's even worse (if you can believe it) is that at the same time, a man dressed as a police officer opened fire on a youth summer camp, a camp with 700 occupants and kids as young as 15. They ran to the beach, swam off the island and up trees and needed help. "One party youth member tweeted: "We are sitting down by the beach. A man is shooting clothed in a police uniform. Help us! When are the police coming to help us!"" (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jul/22/norway-attacks-oslo-bomb-explosion). 30 are suspected to be injured or dead, but at this time, the numbers aren't solid. And this, my friends, is bullshit. 
  I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of hearing on the news that another Canadian/British/American/Swedish/etc solider has died in Afghanistan/Iraq and everywhere else troops are stationed. I'm sick and fucking tired of terrorists. You are not better because of your religion, or your skin tone or the fact that you believe you are following some ancient text to a T. Because buddy, we all make mistakes and your mistake was thinking you had the right to kill others, harm others or try to diminish them in any way. Because of that, you are less than anyone else, even that cranky bitch who cuts in front of people at Macdonalds, then orders the whole goddamn menu. You terrorist/terrorist group are a piece of shit. 
   I may not be that old, but I know my history (at least the good parts), and frankly extremists Muslims, you are just copycats, because, as I recall, the Christians, Romans, and every other powerful religion in the history of the world has done what you have done, and guess what? They ALWAYS fell. Even Christanity, the "Superpower of the Universe" (what I call it in my head, but with a snarky, sarcastic tone) are slowly losing steam, especially with the no-condom-even-if-you-have-an-STD and the raping little boys bits. Those are incredibly popular. NO really. Islam, why can't you just be happy being one of the Big 3, instead of trying to kill all the "infidels" and convert everyone to believe in a someone that they might not click with. <This is probably the nicest way I can say this, "click with". It doesn't clash with anyone, leave me be> Muhammad may be a cool guy, but John Lennon had some good moments as did Bob Marley and Gandhi. Doesn't mean they went round blowing shit up. 
 You wanna rule the world, psychotic, schizophrenic asshats? Too fucking bad. There are others here, that are most likely tired of your highhanded, dumbass moves and are just waiting for the right moment to squish you like a fucking bug. I hope it happens soon too, because you're starting to get some confidence. 
  What I truly believe, is that these terrorists and assholes don't really give a flying fuck about where they get their orders from. They just want to play out their sick, horrendous little fantasies, just like serial killers. That what terrorists are. Serial killers with a Qua'ran or Bible egging them on. Stupid, fucked up never-been-willingly-fucked crazy bags-of-camel-&-rhinoceros shit.  
  So, that's the end of my rant about terrorist attacks and extremists religious freaks who don't know to just go home, throw some darts, smoke some marijuana and eat Cheetos instead of killing children. 
  But just so you know, I don't hate all Muslims. Far from it. I just don't agree with anyone who thinks they're always right, including some Muslims, some Christians and my parents. Believing I should be raped if I show my bare arms turns me off also, just so you know. 


  Aside, who else gets Twin Towers of the WTC and the Two Towers of LOTR mixed up? I always have to pause before talking about either because in my head I'm like, "Twin or Two? Oh, fuck". I couldn't include that in the rant because a funny makes a rant not so serious. But, I can leave it in the end for you chuckle at. Or swear and say "What a disrespectful little shit, I'm never reading this blog again." Oh, damn. There's you, thinking that I give a damn. 
  Edited to add: I actually had to google the 9/11 attacks because I did fuck up Twin and Two. Such an idiot. 

Ow! Volume 1

  I bobo. If you don't know what a bobo is, then you did not grow up in a French-Canadian family or know anyone who is French-Canadian. A bobo is any injury that is not serious enough to warrant medical attention but does warrant whining. You can also complain about a bobo after a medical visit, as I often (i.e. all the time) do after blood work, you know when they jab a needle into your arm and try to suck out as much as possible. Fun times, let me tell you. 
   A bobo can also be soemthing so minor that you forget about it in an hour's time. For me, I only whine and hobble after, let's say, I walked into a door and banged my toe AND SOMEONE CARES. I can very easily shake it off and go on, but if someone expresses any type of sympathy then I will milk it like an old dairy cow. Usually it ends comically with some jokes and jabs and the bobo is forgotten. Serious bobos (or boboes? Huh....) are generally ignored, like when I broke my toe dancing this past fall and it turned blue and swelled up. ("Swelled up" doesn't look right does it. Oh, fuck it.) 
  Right now though, I bobo. Two days ago, I put a pair of sterling silver earrings into my infected ears, hoping that they would calm down after a few days. Nope. In fact, they now contain hard little bubbles that smell bad and contain green stuff. Oh, perhaps I should have mentioned it was gross? Oh well. I just removed the earrings, rubbed alcohol on everything and hopefully they will get better. I'm pissed because a) they bobo! b) they're not closed still, even though they were done six years ago because my body is stubborn and c) I can't watch comedy on my computer because my ears bobo! Oh, I said that already. Shit. 
  So, now you know about bobos, and are well informed and full of knowledge. Your welcome. But I wonder, what did you call bobos when you were little? How were minor injuries treated in your house? Did your parents freak out like mine and run and get you water, even if you had just fell down the stairs and the last thing you wanted was water? I wanna know! 

How I'm gonna maintain a blog

This entire process seems to me to be quite uncomfortable. I basically spill endless bits of information about myself while the rest of the world can read it and snicker to themselves. Well, that's what I would do anyway. So I will be spending the next few posts trying to gently introduce myself. 
This will give the reader time to get used to me, since in the past three days I've been called a bitch, a whiner, an asshole and douchebag. If you're never heard the term "douchebag" (I have no idea if the term is North American or if the International jumped on the train...), that's perfectly okay, you don't need to know what it is. So, hopefully I will be able to hide these "traits of mine" for a while at least. 

* Personally, I don't believe I inhibit any of these nasty little words. I just happen to be insulting and sarcastic, that's all! That's not a crime is it? Is it!?


But if you're going to read this blog you should know some people. And things. 


  1. Most of my comments will be sarcastic. If you're having trouble figuring things out, or think I'm being really insulting, then I suggest you comment. Or deal. Moo-ha-ha! That was an evil Mr. Burns laugh. FYI.
  2. I'll be talking about my family a lot, because I spend way, way too much time with them. As I go through, I'll introduce them and their fake names. It'll be great. And confusing. Maybe I'll make a little guide. If you're good. 
  3. I might not blog for a little bit. I'm dealing with a lot of health issues at the moment and my family problems (They're nuts, I'm not; I'm sticking to that story).
  4. Can't think of a fourth, I'll try to make up some more. 


Later, after some web surfing...


  5. I love television and books. I may quote them, who knows. I might update on what I'm reading. Woo, that sounds like a good idea... 
  6. I'm gonna complain about things. I can't even begin to describe to you how much I'm gonna complain on this site. "A lot" does not cover it. You'll probably stop reading, and I'll be deleted from Blogger. It'll be great. We can have some fun before that, hopefully. 


** Blogger says that douchebag isn't a word. Blogger lies... 
*** Let's link something. It shall be an experience for both of us. "Douchebag" 
**** Sorry dude. You deserved it. 

I'm Back

In case you missed me, I have returned. I'm gonna include a bit more now and I've finally decided to go anonymous. Isn't that wonderful? 

I discovered that blogging is a lot harder then Tsheeting. Yeah, that's what I call Tweeting, because I've used the bare minimum on that website, and it's starting to fuck me over. It's pissing me off, but I continue doing it. It's addictive, thinking that people are reading what you say. They aren't because you're getting ten Tsheets a minute and thy're all telling me to go to this and look at this. But it's awesome. 

So I'm gonna try blogging again. I've been reading a lot of them and so now my life is forming itself into blog posts, which is normal, right? Right?! Never mind, we'll skip that little problem and save it for my therapist. Yeah, I have one of those. 

So, I'm gonna change some shit around, especially the background, because, really who wants to look at that many books? Other than me. We'll talk about that later.