update on glasses and love

Okay so the boy who wears fake glasses, Gunther, I actually like him a whole lot. He's hilarious, funny, and sensitive and all the sentimental junk no one wants to hear about. Long story short, he's a great guy. I haven't come in contact with many of those in my life. On top of all that, he's totally in love with me. So I guess I'm the worst person in the world for going and with Guy and all that, but Gunther says he's okay with it, just as long as he gets to see me too. He's one of those guys that's all, "As long as your happy, I'm happy." Gah. It's so frustrating.

My life is one big awkward moment.

So this boy in a class of mine asked me on a date. Not the aforementioned fake glasses wearer, but a new boy. He has asked me to go to homecoming with him.

I went to the homecoming football game because I am trying to "get involved," as advised by Cleavland. People were so shocked that I was attending a high school social eventI was with Guy, my homecoming date, watching the game. He invited me to go with him to see some stupid scary movie, and I happily obliged  because I like to get free things. Guy left for a moment to round up the group and left me with his best friend and my long time crush, Maurice. Once Guy walked away, Maurice started hugging me and telling me how awkward I was, and then started saying things like this: "So there is this girl, and a lot of guys like her, and she is really cute... And Guy and I decided that we were going to get her to fall in love with both of us." me: "Well good luck with that!" "Yeah but the thing is, Nothing, that I don't know how to get a girl to fall in love with me..." "You just have to buy her presents." "No, see, what you have to do is make her feel like she is important and interesting and funny and beautiful, and then she will fall in love with you." "I thought you didn't know how to get a girl to fall in love with you?" "Well... that's just what I've heard." Is it just me, or was he making it sound like he was talking about me? And then Guy walks up and Maurice says, "So I told Nothing about our plan!" and Guy just goes, "ooooohhhhh." and smiles. WTF boys? I don't know what this means, but it made me feel awkward and happy and mad all at the same time.

So after the movie, Guy takes me home and is at my doorstep and he starts leaning in to kiss me. Now everybody knows that you are supposed to turn your head to the right when you are about to kiss someone? Right? That's the rule. Well Guy leaned left and the first thing that popped into my mind was that maybe he is left handed... Maybe there is a correlation between the two. So I just asked, "Are you left handed?" and he said, "What? No?" And then I just laughed and kissed him and then went into my house. Apparently you aren't supposed to ask things like that right as you're about to kiss someone. I thought it was a valid question, but I guess blurting such questions out in the moment is considered "weird." Oh well.

I want my baby back

I just want some ribs. I've never been unhappy while eating ribs. Ribs just take the pain and make it go away... and then come back after you're done because now you hate yourself for eating an entire rack of ribs by yourself and your face and fingers are now all sticky.

Today, I am in Hell.

I hate Nevada. It's hot and sticky outside all the time, and all you can see anywhere is dirt. I hate Nevada. But even worse than just Nevada in general, is Elko, Nevada. Besides the fact that Elko is hot and sticky and covered in dirt, it is one of those vacuum towns- anyone who is born there can't get out when they grow up, so it's just a small town filled with dead dreams and the people that can't escape it. And the way the boys stare... Gosh you would think they'd never seen a girl in their entire lives! I'm pretty sure that hell is a crowded Walmart on Black Friday located in Elko. Or maybe it's just a never ending AP test that you didn't study for given in the DMV. Either way, I don't want to go. And I just want to get out of Nevada.

Teenage Nothing is dating a real life boy?!?

pros and cons.

pros: he's funny, cute, nice, and he seems to like me.

cons: he wears fake glasses.

I just don't know if this is going to go anywhere...,,,

commas,,,

Commas. The vampire fangs of punctuation. I think instead of doing ellipses (...) it would make more of a statement to use commas. Example: I don't know... (meaning you are unsure and hesitant and therefore you look weak to your opponent) it becomes: I don't know,,, (now meaning, IDGAF, and I know I can take you.)   So make a statement, don't forget the commas,,,

pet peeve of the day.

pizza dabbers. Okay people, just eat the stinking pizza. If you take a napkin and dab off the grease, that is a literal crime. You're getting rid of the best part. (my favorite foods being grease, meat, and any sort of fried dough.) You know a slice is good when the grease pools in the melted and slightly browned cheese and crisped pepperoni. I bet no one has ever realized that a slice of pizza is such poetry as to not be tampered with, especially with the likes of a napkin.

it's the end of the world as we know it... I feel fine.

I now know with out a doubt how the world will end.

Cleaveland was saying how she wanted to get and iPhone; Liz and I just rolled our eyes. But then Liz started saying how if everyone got an iPhone then we would reach our data limit and nobodies phones would work. And then I was given an epiphany.

It's like Y2K all over again. (Year 2000. You know, when everyone thought that the computers wouldn't be able to handle the date switch over? Yeah, people seriously thought that. What idiots. Now my theory, it is not stupid like that at all.) (sarcasm.) Okay, so in December 2012, all of our technology is going to crash because we have reached the data limit. We will have to rebuild it all, from the ground up. The literal world isn't going to end, just the things we think our world is. That's why the Mayan calendar stops, because that is where we are going to have to start over and revert back to simpler times.

I just love conspiracy theories. Gosh I sound like the crazy guy with a patchy beard that lives in a van down by the river with his four cats as company.

I wish I had the shirt I bought that said, "I survived y2k." It was such a sick shirt. But I had to go and give it to that boob I was dating at the time along with an awesome Beatles record. I should go ask for my stuff back. But that means altering my personality entirely and becoming less lazy. So I guess no one will ever know about how "I survived y2k." That shirt is going to be outdated anyway. Now I want one that says, "I survived y2k12." yeah, suck on that boob with my y2k shirt. boob.

Skinny Love (Who sings that? Is that Bawn Eyevehr?)

Me and my two best friends all work at the same city pool. I work as a counselor for a kids program, and Liz is a lifeguard and Cleaveland works at the concession stand. And I could go on about how nice it is to have a friend who works at the concession stand; let's just say there is nothing more I love than free food. But alas, this post is about to get a bit more interesting.

The pool is outdoors, and for some reason is ill equipped with surveillance cameras, because there are none that monitor the pool. So as we were driving home late one night from a rockin' concert, we had the bright idea of sneaking in to the pool for a midnight dip.

What. A. Rush. Going naked off the high dive has got to be one of the coolest things I've been able to convince myself to do, other than the time Cleaveland and I jumped onto the running carousel at the mall.

It was all fun and games until we saw the sirens. The three of us flopped ourselves onto the concrete beached whale style and then rolled to our clothes, quickly pulling them on. We did not want to have to be lectured by a cop in our birthday suits.

Luckily, the cop was busting a bunch of other kids for fireworks. Hallelujah. For once in my life I've gotten away with something. Muwahaha.

Pink Hair, don't care.

So nothing became of the Candy superstition incident. There is no reason to be fearing black cats. Or mirrors. Unless your ugly.

There is a reason to be fearing the pink hair now comfortably resting upon my head.
I've gotten to the point that I know longer can remember my natural hair color. I've had black, red, blond, and all the browns in between. But it was because of this overwhelming boredom that caused me to reach for the fire engine red that ultimately turned out to be pink. Don't worry, it's not all over, just on the underneath side.

Did I mention my parents don't know about it yet? We'll see how long I can keep this under wraps before I feel their wrath for displaying teenage rebellion on my scalp.

Or maybe they'll find it quite tasteful? I swear, adults have forgotten all sense of what it is like to have the urge to just be young and irresponsible. Where's the fun in that?

Writings on the wall...

So I guess I'm superstitious now? Okay so I read this stupid horoscope in some ridiculous tween magazine, out of sheer boredom and lack of other reading materials, to kill time on a long drive to Joe's Valley with a completely Beiber obsessed passenger. It told me that I would be hearing from a long lost crush that week. I ended up hearing from about five. Every time I would think about one, they would text me. And finally, the text I had been waiting for all stinking summer came from the fore mentioned Candy. The boy I've been completely infatuated with for my whole high school career.

Quick back story- just as yolo came into my life, the biggest party of the year was coming around the corner. Pepperwood Party. It's held in the extremely, irritatingly rich neighborhood near my school, Pepperwood. This party is also known as the kissing party. Many people try to see how many people they can kiss in one night. So my friend and I and our new found need to live like we're dying decided to have a friendly competition of who could lock lips with the most men. Mid evening, our count was tied at four. She sees Candy and walks away from me and then I see them start kissing, but it was over shortly. She looked smug. I was mad. So I started leaning in and he was leaning in and my friend was pushing our heads apart but Candy told her to lay off. And then Candy and I kissed. Me and my love, we kissed. But not just for a few seconds... I started getting worried after a minute passed. And then my worries were confirmed when an applause erupted and we realized we had attracted a crowd. (One of the crowd members being my ex and his best friend, giving a disapproving glare to the both of us.)

And we haven't talked since.

He told me he had been wanting to kiss me for a while, and was glad he did, but I wasn't sure if that was the now apparent alcohol talking that I tasted on his breath. Oh gosh, now it looked as though I'd taken advantage of a drunk boy.

So there are so many reasons why I know I don't want to ever have my fantasies become reality, because he could never live up to what I made him to be. I don't even really know him. Not the side of him that gets high and drunk on the weekends anyway.

Alright now back to superstitions and Candy's text- He said, "Love!! How has you're summer been?!" an hour later I saw it and replied, "Hey Candy! It's been great! How's yours?!" and you know what? He never replied. That bastard. Who just texts someone that and then doesn't reply? Whatever. But now, ever since that horoscope proved right, I'm starting to believe in that malarkey. I got three fortune cookies just to see what the fortunes would say, and they all told me that a surprise awaited me this weekend. Well, that was the gist of all of them anyway. So I guess I'll have to wait until Saturday to see if I'm going to be superstitious or not.

Just to be safe, I'll be avoiding ladders, and black cats, and breaking mirrors until then.

cold broccoli.

When I was little, my mom tricked me into eating broccoli by making it fun and saying they were little trees and I was a big giant. So for the past 17 I believed that I liked broccoli. And now as those little broccoli trees were all up inside my salad, I realized how putrid they are. My parents lied to me all along. Everyone knows broccoli sucks. I've been living a lie my whole life. I don't even know who I am anymore.

moral of the story, they are not so bad if you drown them in ranch.

pet peeve of the day

Periods. First off, why is everyone so taboo about their genital bleeding? So you need a tampon? It shouldn't have to be some covert operation, every second person in the world has it. Which brings me to my second point. Why on earth does no one ever have a tampon? Every second person in the world has it so you would think some one would be prepared for the monthly visitor. Also, my friend the other day as we were passing the tampons said that it was a known fact when a girl gets her period that her mom does something nice for her. "my mom took me out for ice cream and bought me pajamas." I think my mom made me a frozen dinner. Maybe we should make that a more widespread fact. Lastly, the price of tampons is just blasphemy.

Okay. Rant over. I apologize. K bye.

morph suits then call me maybe?

I can't help but think about how much I wish I had a morph suit. Oh the ruckus I could cause in such a getup.    I would love to harass the neighborhood middleschoolers at the snow shack and enjoy photo bombing happy couples at prom... I think I shall invest in one.

On another note, I have call me maybe stuck in my head on a never ending loop of just the chorus, because that's all I know. You know a song is bad when you can memorize the words after only having listened to it one stinking time. It has ruined my life. Carly Rae whatever is a life ruiner. She ruins peoples lives. And because of this I am now thinking about a boy who I would rather not glorify in my thoughts. See, I wrote it in his yearbook, the song I mean. Just to be annoying. I just wanted to get my yearbook and leave the last day of school, but instead, I was stopped by several complete strangers asking to sign my yearbook. To those people I wrote things like, but not limited to: "If I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me?" "DEATH." "Knock Knock- your face." and, "Hella dope year yo. Hope you bees hittin me up soon homie."  But this boy, let's call him Candy, (I want Candy... However if his name actually was Candy I would pitty him a bit that his parents named him that in hopes for a gay son. bleak.) anyway, this boy Candy asked me to sign his yearbook and then got mad at me that I didn't write something more sentimental, so he made me write in it again. so I literally wrote "sentimental feelings and stuff love, me." Because the thing is, I can't say what I really feel about him I'm totally in love with this boy, but I have to play it off as total sarcasm. He always leads me on by saying how beautiful I am and how fun I am and making plans for dates with me that never happen (The fact that I used to date his best friend might be the reason for the plans never going through. Or it's because I'm gross. I tell myself it's the first.) Whatever. But because of that stupid call me maybe song and me being an idiot and associating it with him in my mind, now whenever it comes on I have to handcuff myself to a tennis racket so that I don't try to text him.

Candy... call me... maybe? no? okay I'll stop creeping on you with my mind.

pet peeve of the day.

Man sandals or flip flops. aka, mandals. Nobody likes feet that much, except for those weirdos with foot fetishes. But anyway, no feet are that great, but man feet, those are not meant to be parading around and displayed in little flippy floppies. I don't want to see your hairy toe knuckles. No. Stop it. Burn those mandals. Thanks.

thanks a lot hashtag yolo.

So, like I said earlier, i'm screwed. Why? because of stinkin' YOLO. Now everybody is constantly telling the community all the cool things they're doing via facebook, twitter, and instagram. "Did something awesome today! #yolo" shutupshutupshutup. I know there is no way that people are having all that much fun, especially where I live. Yet they still feel the need to tell every one about it.  The other day I saw a picture of these idiots kids cliff diving. Sure, that's super fun, but wouldn't a more fitting hashtag would be: yodo (you only die once) or yogotmcagbd (you only get one too many concussions and get brain damage). So I started using this saying in complete irony, "watched re- runs of friends all day. yolo." It got me thinking though, maybe I'm not making the most of my highschool experience... So maybe... maybe I'll start doing things spontaneously. Once I can gather the strength to get myself off my couch and put a bra on, I'll go outside and try this "yolo" thing that all the kids are talkin about.

the beginning of a realization

I consider myself a realist. Sometimes, while being the realist that I am, I am caught up in pretending to be a pessimist. You know, teen angst and stuff.  My natural nature however reverts me back to my secretive optimism and complete hopeless ramantism. See, I'd like to be cool like the rest of my peers and be too cool to care about anything, except about saving the planet by making my own compost. But the truth is, worms are gross, and so is the fact that I still have one year of highschool pretending to relate on some level with all those cookie- cutter teenagers of whom I am forced to be in contact with on a daily basis. And that is where my true natured optimism kicks in, telling me that there has got to be more than this. But the realist part of me brings to my attention that adults are always saying that highschool is the best years of your life. And if that is true, I'm screwed.