February 23, 2011

Above all else, above feet touching me, above people in general, I hate the things they do.

Which is why it's going to be the main victim of my abuse today.
I have compiled a list of what not to do, and what to do in middle school, specifically.


1. Do, come up with a signature thing. May it be an article of clothing, or hair style. Own it, because then no one can mess with you for it.
2. Do, wear your most daring clothes on the first week of school. Kids only tease when you aren't fitting in the mold they have already set, so whether it be a skirt or dress, or knee high shoes, make sure you set the mold to fit the person you want to be. So you won't be scared to show it later.
3. Don't, get to sappy and serious on your internet blogs. Oh, that's right. You're not a loser at life.
4. Don't, waste your money on lead, their will always be suckers who will give it to you for free.
5. Same goes for paper, and homework answers, and food and love. People give it out free here.
6. Do, keep a Tide stick on you. For those icky moments when you realize that re-enacting a People Eating Weird Things episode is a bad idea.
7. Do, always add 'in my pants' to what your teacher says.
8. Don't, say that stuff out loud.
9. Do, keep your hate list online, like me, with fake names. Rather then in a wide ruled red notebook that ends up sitting by the When Bambi's Mother Didn't Come Back and I am Irrationally Considering Making my BF get Vampire and Werewolf Plastic Surgery Brochures.
You all know who you are...
10. Do, be quiet in health class. Because health teachers are only slightly less temperamental then PE teachers. And they think of themselves as failures as life, so they're pretty sensitive. Again, you know who you are...

And always remember....
In middle school it isn't ever quality before quantity.
You have to have all of it. Even if you have all the crap versions of it.

Clothing can rip within a week, but the fact that you wore it made you amazing.
All your friends, who would easily fill your shampoo bottle with henna ink, can be crap friends. If you have bad friends but lots of them, you have lots of Facebook friends. And, perhaps more important then Smoothie Tuesday, are Facebook friends.
Me? I have 24. And most of them are my imaginary friends accounts. But they rarely post anything.

Today was uneventful. I talked Justin Bieber's hair with the cheerleaders.
I found out Issy just went into my Facebook to read my message from Peter's friend. No biggie.
I continued setting up Specs with the other most disliked girl in our class. Only my match making is so darn good, I've been eating half of lunch alone and riding the bus solo too. Crap.

Oh. And Issy is totally disgusted with Jordan, her boyfriend, right now due to a slight bathroom event.
They were at the park together and first she could hear him peeing and it was pretty stop go stop go. And then, worse, he came out and she told him where the sink was, and he responded,'I didn't pee on my hands,' And kept walking!

While she told me and throughout the rest of lunch, I kept touching her hands and jawline and saying,'Hey babe what's up,' in my mock Jordan voice just to get to her.

He seems like the kinda guy that will grow up and say stuff like,'They're real if I can touch them!' Logic skips a generation.... And it appears.

We were on the bus and she went to give me a wet willy and I made her stop and think about what she had just done.


Ah. Life's good.
Until tomorrow my croc wearers!

February 22, 2011

So I heard from Issy's mom on Sunday that each cheerleader was getting a special purse filled with notes from their family and friends. I find, this extremely unnecessary. But I was asked to write one, and so I tried. Only no matter what I did I sounded like all the other girls in my class. All emoticons and odd numbers of exclamation points.
Everything I typed seemed unbelievably, well, unbelievable. It was all mushy and gushy and falling action of a movie cheesy.

I think I'll print it out and put it onto an other paper with lots of pictures or something in order to distract from the artificial smiley faces.

I think I'm actually going to her game on Friday. And that should be the only time I stay after this week. No NJHS today. In fact, I haven't been to a meeting in a month and a half. Whats the point of  a honor club when the only thing people are worried about is t-shirts that insist on our good deeds and deciding whether a pie toss or cake walk is a better idea for an nonexistent spring carnival.

Speaking of superficial, and I say that in the nicest way, when I came into English this morning, Bernie was already there. One of her eyes looked more cow like than usual (apparently she didn't take that as a compliment) and the other had no white showing. It was scrunched up and unbearably red.

I, too, was injured today. My right wrist was wrapped up and my right elbow is aching in the joint. I told everyone that I had visited the Jersey Shore, was at this crazy party and hurt myself fist pumping. I told them Snookie could be very maternal in a time of crisis.

The honestly sad part was that most people just burst out laughing. And worse, sometimes they didn't get it, looked at me blankly, took it seriously and told me that they couldn't imagine me at that kind of party.

Such people must be forgiven for their stupidity.

It was to late to post this yesterday, but while on THE facebook yesterday I came across this post.
crying my fucking eyes out .... 
I hope your happy
Followed by this comment from her boyfriend   
 so am i
And perhaps you don't find this as funny as I do. And I don't think that other peoples pain is funny, it's just that despite my lack of a love life I think that what you do with the ones you 'love' should not be posted on Facebook. Granted, those that are popular want the world to know they're popular. But this post was almost immediately followed by a terrible review of Justin Beiber's new hair cut. 


So here's my tip of the day- When you post about you love life-
A. Mention names, because creepers like me want our work made easy. (Actual tip-never mention names.)
B. Use proper grammar and stray from three, slash, less-thans if you can. (Seriously that was it.)

Lucky for me. I don't have to worry about my serious and not serious (depending on how severe you consider celebrity haircuts) mixing. All my posts are about Justin Beiber. He's mine.

I leave you on that note.
Oh, and hey. My mom wears crocs.

February 21, 2011

I love long weekends, because despite my amazing grades and, let's not lie, extreme popularity, school just isn't my thing. Don't get me wrong, I love some of my teachers, but I don't crave their classes on Saturday. Sometimes being the teacher's pet sucks. Oh, that's right, being a teachers pet implies doing extra, and I just do what they ask.

Which is why extra credit seems really unnecessary to me. It's only extra if you did your work, and those seeking extra credit didn't do their original work.

Sorry, that's harsh. For some reason when I feel vulnerable or sensitive I get really mean. I think it's a guy thing, like asserting my manliness.

And right now, I feel very hurt. See, my sister just came in here because I said I saw a bug. She blew on it and it fell off the cliff of the desk. And then I, this is gonna revoke my manliness, burst into tears. I literally had to go to my room to stop crying.

What? I don't even get it.
I'm not PMSing, I'm not bipolar (despite what you've heard) and I was not close to this bug in particular way.
It was like I felt so bad for it. Like someone had thought it so unimportant, that they didn't care if they hurt it. Because it couldn't fight back. It's sick.

I was reading my textbook in health and it talked about mood swings, and I was like,'Mood swings! Ahah, those are for my mom!' And then here I am, crying because a centimeter long winged creature was blown off my desk.

I'm such a hypocrite.

And, sorry for my own interruption, this weekend was more likes school than school is.
Issy came over on Saturday and celebrated my grand fathers birthday with us. Then she and I went immediately to work on our science project. This quarter it's all about the periodic table. We had to reinvent it, reorganize it and make it fun, while picking an audience to target it to.

We picked teenage boys, and because printing atomic masses and numbers on breasts isn't illegal, it's frowned upon. We made each element a license plate. It was only after we finished, we realized we had put all the information on the elements but the name of it.

It's on a huge poster board and we still have to make an advertisement, write an essay, and come up with a presentation or defense for it. Working on the model was the first time I ever pulled an almost all nighter and turned my computer corner into the cave of darkness. Because that's what it became, an evil place for all the metaloids and halogens to hang out.

My wrist is killing me and the bug things is still on my mind and this morning I woke up,went on the computer and I was on some person's twitter account looking at all their posts. I don't even have a twitter! I make myself feel like such a creeper. Sometimes I wake up and my camera is still on, my blinds are wide open and the binoculars are unsafely around my neck.

On Saturday I also had a self competition thing where I had to play my violin solo for a judge and then she or he rated me.

It started off really badly when Ms.Heels had to run out of the room and find my sheet music and then I couldn't tune myself because I was afraid to break a string. And then it got worse when I realized my judge was my private teacher's daughter. Here's my logic- she could either give me the best score in order to please her mother, or because she's known me since I was two, she could ruin me!

She didn't, and I paid for my metal (you heard right) and hung out with this violist from the chamber of secrets and Tim.

Let's go on Facebook and see some prime examples of middle school life-
Did u guys like it when my hair is shorter like now or longer like last year? And that's a dude's post.  
I was born for dying. Is this a quote or are you sending a certain kicking the TV into the tub message? 
My nails are glow in the dark haha when i was little i thought that glow in the dark things were made out of dinosaur pee And once again, Katlyn, is the king!





And whoa! I just got a message from some guy at my school talking about Peter, that guy that likes me but has never once talked to me. It just says that Peter's really nice. And that's it. No instructions. No explanations. Just, yeah he's cool.
Like Peter hired him to do that or something.


My wrist is still killing me, and I don't know if I can write, so I'm gonna go try. Hope you had an amazing weekend!

February 17, 2011

Today was just not my day.

And I don't want to sound like half of the girls in my class, and, well, most of the boys, but it just kinda blowed.

In Orchestra we had a sub, we all had identities picked out, but then the sub turned out to just be one of the science teachers, who already knew most of us. Actually she had almost run me over while I was getting off the bus.

So, that didn't work and we were completely unprepared, no butter or water balloons or anything at hand. The paper Ms.Heel's had typed up said that we could run the class, which meant Hannie could run the class.

And that's what she did.

I don't know how many times I got yelled at in the 1 hour and 30 minutes she was behind the head stand, but it's a record somewhere. And then the madder she got the more me and Tim would laugh, an endless cycle.

At the end we were all about ready to cry and scared out of our minds, and the sides of the chamber of secrets were clear.
It was me, Tim, Tina and Hose, against Hannie, Yiyiyiyi, and Mia. Oh, the humanity!

And then when I got into Geo I was in this foul mood and I just couldn't help being so harsh with everyone. One girl from my class, a friend of a friend whose kinda my friend, even got mad at me and walked away and won't talk to me. Only I think she might be fake mad, but I can't really tell. She posted on my wall HATE YOU, which indicated completely fake. I deleted it, not because of the original post, but the likes it was generating.

And then only three people showed for book club, me, Ryan and Bernie. And Bernie didn't read the book. So we just wondered and ate the box of Triscuits sitting by us and Bernie decided to call me mom after she did it mistakenly and realized it was because I acted like her mom. Which, when considering her mom, may have been more insult then compliment. But maybe she meant mom, period.

Hopefully I sleep off the mean.

Okay, so I can't remember what I wanted to be for Halloween, but I came up with a new idea. How about Dr,.Frank-N-Furter, from Rocky Horror. And I realize this doesn't help my heterosexuality, but life only throws you the body of a teenage transvestite so often.

We decided we would put one book club meeting together in which members would share the work they have written and receive, and let's be flexible with the definition of this word, help. It was Ryan and Specs idea. Ryan says he has something intense and deep to read. And I've read Spec's 'novel' which is only a few chapters but keeps growing. It's something Disney would use to cast has-been Disney family members, as if to say, 'remember how cool they were?' But someone has to do that job, and maybe a book about a clumsy girl falling for a teen celebrity named Dustin Knight is exactly what they're looking for.
Now don't go stealing that idea, oh wait, it's been done so many times it isn't stealing anymore. It's simply an updated revival?

And my work? Well, let's just say Spec's is always shocked when I tell her Ellen is gay, every time. And explaining that some of my imaginary friends don't speak English, so they have translators, is a little hard to do.

Alright. I have to go research fish nets and leather fingerless gloves. All my love!

February 16, 2011

Slow news day.

Other then the fact that Issy was much to close to the edge today, and that I bit my cheek about 11 times in total, the day was, simply, normal.

I rode the bus to school.
I  bit my cheek.
I made fun of a lot of people, it turns out I'm beginning to underestimate a lot of people's intelligence.
Real fruit smoothies were introduced at the snack shack. Big deal.
I bit my cheek.
Emoticons rule my life.

Issy was on thin ice today. And she kept whispering me that as something would happen.
Her and Jordan had their first fight. Not as big a deal as the smoothies. She told him to stop complaining about bullying because no one was really mean to him, he was just too sensitive. He started to cry. He told her to be honest, what else did she think. She said he 'bitched' too much. He cried more. (I hear they have smoothies!) He told her she was his problem.
He said we complain about him when all three of us are together and then he didn't try to talk to us on the bus. Like when Specs tells me to wait to walk with her and then speeds off without me once we are out of the doorway. 

It was skirt day. And I looked good. Oh, humble you say? Baby I know.

Most of the people I hang out with wore skirts.

And it inspired me. To take on my fears. I'm not gonna confront feet or my fear of getting into a car with my left foot. Something simple. Like spiders.

And my fear of wearing skirts and dresses in public. I feel exposed, vulnerable. But inspired by the pressed lemon of Glee (Quinn Fabray) I have decided to dress in sundresses and pretty florals and even, and get this, ruffles.

It will be my high school look. My middle school tramples on our creativity with polo's and the colors they wore on MASH.

Ah.
But we have smoothies.

There were posters all over the school. Nice professional posters. Yet, we can't seem to get heat or toilet paper (you have to bring your own.)

I saw Mr.Nose reading one, while eating an ice cream and his 7 Lean Cuisine meals.
Oh, and a diet soda.

See I just can't see Jenny Craig recommending being on 3 different diet plans at the same time.

But I can't judge. Why is it that the ones who are so exposed to the most open minded stuff are always the most judgmental!?

List your queerities.
And then feel sorry for yourself.
That's how I pass the time.

Have a good day!

I said good day!

February 15, 2011

I'm sitting here staring at the cursor blink and thinking about the night of making dinner with my imaginary friends (they were no help!) and I have come to a realization.

All the lonely people, where do they come from? All the lonely people where do they belong?

No just kidding.

I've come to the conclusion that my position on the food pyramid of middle school is, like, in-existent. Even loners are loners.
I'm like not there until you are my friend. Once your my friend you realize how many classes you have with me, how many times you pass me in the halls.

I've also decided that my parents have done me a big dis favor (?) by raising me where I am. All good authors, even the crappy authors, write about what they know and have their novels set where they grew up or live.
And what do I know?
I can't write about bullying, I'm not bullied.
I can't write about being popular, or about living in the big city or small town. I can't write about growing up, because I'm an alien.
So my book's are gonna be about Ellen and imaginary friends. Can you see that with an Oprah seal of approval?

Sorry I'm being so whiny. I'm on a sugar crash. I had to ride the morning bus and my mom thinks I'm a lesbian, and is determined to have the talk with me over again for our new circumstances.
She's calling it a refresher, I got the original one in 1st grade. And personally I don't think a 7 year old needs to know about blue balls.
I told her that stuff doesn't come up on the playground, but it's like once you wind her up she just keeps flipping. Until your 7 year old has been stripped of their innocence.

Oh, speaking of stripped of their innocence. God, my mind. I wanted to tell you one of my tricks on remembering certain information.
From atoms to ions- Ion's are the floozies of the elements. After an atom gives away or receives electrons, or gives away it's virginity, it becomes an ion.

And I'm the A student.

My petition to get the semi formal theme to be famous couples in history isn't working out. Everyone wants a masquerade, which is simply an invitation for some rapist in a mask to join the fun at the Italian American club. And they already have their problems. That was probably why their drinking and gambling licenses were revoked. Because you know you can only eat there now.

Something about hanging out with the cheerleaders makes you realize one of two things. Either how crap your life is, or how crap your life is. I hate myself more when I'm with them.

But then again, hanging out with my own friends, as few as they are, reminds me how crap my life is. 
I'm actually a little worried because we have to make a health triangle in health and my social side is gonna be soo small.

Have a jolly good day! And remember the H's are unnecessary in Spanish!

February 14, 2011

You aren't going to believe this, but guess what I just found...a movie staring Billy Crystal and Julia Roberts. That's like combining ice cream and potatoes (my favorite foods) only in the end it tastes good, and not like french fries and Micky D's milk shakes.

Now wait? That sounds good.

Alright..I'll do it, Happy Valentines!
And for all you bitter, dieing alone people...join the club! Hah, just kidding it's a matter of time before Ellen comes and knocks on my door. But, Happy Single Awareness Day!

For some reason Mr.Nose kept taking peoples Valentines, cupcakes, flowers and candies and putting them in this room in the office. It was like where the Power Puff girls exorcised their bulimia.
Roses and cakes and pink rose up against the walls, obviously the Nose is single.

And if you aren't convinced by the abolishment of Valentine's, he also owns a purple, window less raper van. So do what you will with that.

Conversation with my mom...
Me- What music do you want to listen to?
Mom- the sound of silence...
Me- My extensive knowledge of music just proved your witty comeback a misfire
       "Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping"
Yeah, think next time.

I was not alone in handing out Valentines today, mine perhaps were the most childish, but needless to say I can't remember what happened in the last 8 minutes of my life due to the sugar.

And on this great day of love, me and Issy got kicked off our lunch table.
When I'm on a 3 pm talk show (you know which one I'm talking about) in the future, this will be my go to story in order to make myself seem deep and wounded.

It went like this....
Me and Issy and Specs got to the lunch room and the people who usually sat a table down had slid to our end and some other girls looked up at us in all the open spaces with big, stupid smiles.

At first we just stumbled around, I considered going Mean Girls and eating in the restroom, and then I remembered I'd be eating in a restroom. We sat down at table three, right across from our old seats and then went to the bathroom. When we came back that spot had been invaded too, but we managed to push our way around them.
Spec's left minutes later, which added insult to injury., because when your not good enough for her you know you've peaked and now are free falling. Might as well end it all now.

We ate and then Issy took me to Jordan's table. All in all it was highly emotionally pressuring. But we pulled through, I just kept thinking about the bright side of not being in the bathroom.
Issy- At least we moved up a table.
Me- We were kicked off table two, it really doesn't get worse.

I have also come to the conclusion, on this wonderful day of cupid, that I am a guy at heart. Now, now, we all saw it coming. But no, I was thinking about the fact that I blew off Katlyn, a big bottomed girl, to be with Kenzie, a cheerleader. Making me officially a male.

I should just start buying 2 dozen frozen meals at grocery stores and giving out amazing candy on Halloween now. It's simply a waste of time to wait any longer.

And though I don't have a date tonight, and I sent myself a rose (the moment of them saying to O from Holden Caulfield, was totally jacked because the messenger didn't know how to say Holden or Caulfield, but I should have seen my brilliance go to waste anyway beforehand, what with the fact that they probably think the Catcher in the Rye is the movie version of the Children of the Corn,) I feel good today because Kenzie wrote call me on my valentine. Of course it was a joke, and I'm joking right now. Am I? I don't know?

You know you probably all think I'm a lesbian, but I'm not, I don't think. It's just I have no legitimate crushes to tell you about. Sorry, I'm just to good looking, girls they follow me around like I'm a cross breed of Justin Beiber and the one guy from those vampire movies. (I'm just messing with you, I know who he is, Ted Williams?)

Alright, I have an early bus to catch and another loveless year to look forward to.
Oh and don't forget to sign on to my petition to outlaw crocs and get queerities in the dictionary!

One small step for an Observer, and then another and another, because middle school is massively overrated.

Febuary 13, 2011

Today is my mothers birthday. We celebrated with Mediterranean and brownies. I got her a custom made t shirt that has a mini cooper, her car, and the words Actual Size on it.
Because she's short.

But actually that wasn't all I did this weekend. Sorry I probably should have told you to sit down first.
No, but seriously, on Friday I got two invites. One to the glee showcase, Motown, where Katlyn would pick me up. And then the other was going to the movies, specifically the Justin Beiber documentary, with that cheerleader that I've been half mock fighting with.
So obviously I spent my evening with a bunch of teenage girls, 5 year olds and one gay guy in a theater watching Never Say Never.
And the worst part. I fell in love with Justin Beiber. No, it's not like my love for Jane Lynch, it never will be. But the movie did its job in making me feel like I could relate with a 16 year old boy who has alarm clocks and lunch boxes. I left and I was like,'He's a real boy!' And I don't know the minute he was born or the name of his dog, but I was impressed.

Then me and Kenzie, yes Kenzie, went to a frozen Yogurt place and then a candy store and it was a right good first date.

In fact, we told the guy giving us our popcorn (we shared a popcorn and drink, she asked me,'Hey I don't really know you, but can we share a drink?') that we were on our first date. Either he was doing the whole no speaking English thing on purpose or he really just didn't know what we were talking about.
And then in the middle of the movie she did the yawn put arm around me move and it made me laugh out loud.

I really can see myself as her friend. I can, and as sad as it is, it probably just became the subject of my mid-health day dreams. Me and Kenzie designing Beiber shirts, me and Kenzie shopping for sundresses (is that what they do?), me and Kenzie squabbling over the spelling of blond. All in good time, my Internet friends. All in good time.

My parents are making me angry this weekend. For some reason they kind of stopped doing things for me. And as bratty as that may sound, it's true. They won't take me out for new shoes (I only have two pairs) and Issy had to give me a winter coat this year because they said I didn't deserve one.

Their comments are starting to get to me. About the clothes I don't wear because it's not summer yet, being there soon and the fact that I eat to much. That kind of stuff. My mom will see me eating and say things like,'I can't save you from yourself.' How rude is that?

But enough about the immense pain in my life, I really should have my own Oxygen show.

I was at the gym today and I swore I was in an Adam Sandler romantic comedy. You know that constant gag they do in movies where they'll have someone naked but because of something like a stack of papers or a plate you can't see they privates (VULVA!) or breast or something. Well, I was leaving the locker room and this women calmly walked by me with a towel wrapped around her neck, hiding her nipples and she just happened to be drying her hands with a wad of paper towels which she held at crotch level. I almost said in my creepy voice,'Sorry I'm not better looking!' From 50 first Dates.

Hope you all had a good, Beiber filled weekend! Enjoy Valentines and try not to sound like a dumb jerk on Facebook (Just another Monday! I need a Valentine! To many requests!)

February 10, 2011

Hello world!
I just had 3, whole, chocolate chip cookies and I feel gooooood!

Let's start off with a Paper Towns book update, because I do that now. I'm about 60 pages from the end and I think I've picked up 2 or 3 different car games to play on road trips. The book is now set on the road, a 21 or something hour long trip (I can't really remember) and it has also gotten a lot funnier. Don't get me wrong, it was funny to begin with and it had its few slow parts, but now it's all funny. Every line. Even the serious ones are laced with humor.

Remember when I talked about the characters in King Dork being highly unstereotypical? Paper Towns is the opposite. The two best friends are exactly the best friends you have in TV shows and other novels. One's a high tech nerd and the other's a 'pimpin,' sarcastic, rude nerd. And then you have the main character who is mellow and smart and well main charactery. But the characters are far from bad. They're amazing, their dialog and voices are unique, even if their overall main ideas aren't. See what makes them great characters and unlike the ones put into all the other teenage realistic fiction I've read, is their details.
Radar's parents have the worlds largest collections of black Santas and Ben calls all women, even his mom, honey bunny's.

And even during the slow parts you don't want to stop because you know there's meaning in what you're reading, and though most of us hate having to think, it makes us.

I think I have to add John Green, the author, to my faves list.Watch out Markus Zusak! What!?

That was cheesy. My apologies.

I didn't end up going to the game because I was only going to see Issy and she left school in the early morning. Apparently she went home and went to the doctor who gave her this machine that she has to be on every four hours for however long. She won't be at school tomorrow either.

All the cheerleaders were complaining in science because they couldn't do certain things without her. I told them about her health, all the swolleness and they told me she needed to be more committed to cheer, it's so important.

In fact the usually half decent cheerleaders were mean (and by that I mean more teasing) to me today. The one I worked on the roller coaster project with kept putting me down (that's what the counselors say) and told me she always started to twitch when I came over. And then she would fake twitch.
I had to give it back a little. Twitch.
Me- I know what your doing your trying to make me feel like because of my test scores I don't fit into society like I should.
Nichole- I know what your saying I'm saying. You think I want you to fit into my standards.
Me- No, incorrect. I don't want to fit into your standards. I like where I am. I'm here, and your down there. I like my standards actually.

Twitch.

And then I had to give it back a little more.
Nichole- Don't you even go up to the teacher's desk and ask her questions every ten minutes and tell her about your life and-
Me- 1. I actually have questions to ask when I go up to the teachers desk. 2. People who go up to the teachers desk don't have lives to talk about.

Twitch.
I really thought I got her with that last one. Kinda back fired.

So you know that I don't like the idea of bucket lists because A. They all end in disappointment. and B. People spend to long compiling them to do anything. But I must admit I have a small one in my head. And today I mentally scratched something off.

Every year the cheerleaders sell candy cane reindeer and NJHS sell plush roses. I always buy at least one and send them to myself from a fictitious character. In 6th grade it was Chuck Bass, of Gossip Girl. 7th it was Harry Potter. And today I successfully sent myself a plush rose from Holden Caulfield.

My motto is 'Aim high!'

Without Issy I realized that she does all the talking at lunch and things with Specs were even more awkward. She got on the phone at one point and started saying things at odd intervals and random things and I knew for a fact she wasn't on the phone with anyone. That she had practiced this in her head last night. How did you know yous ask? I do the same thing all the time. Only I do it to get away from conversations, not start ones because I have no one else to talk to. My imaginary friends are there for that. Duh.

That German kid pulled up my shirt today. And I know what your thinking you dirty dirty people. It wasn't like that. No, he only pulled a little and it only showed my hip, kinda. What happened was I was talking to someone and I felt him grab it. I pulled it away and he looked mortified. He kept saying sooooo sorrryyy. He said he thought I had a shirt on under it. I proved I did and it got caught on my sweater so all he saw was a tad of skin. He was so embarrassed. It was hilarious. I told him I felt violated and fake cried a little.

Only the really sad thing is that's the only 'action' I'm gonna get all year.

No just kidding. Don't buy drugs kids, become a pop singer and they give you them free. Name the movie?
But seriously don't go on dope or get pregnant. It really kills your chance of falling in love with Justin Beiber.

Don't even say,'I'm a boy, I don't have a stalker crush on Justin Beiber.' Because we all know you do. Everyone does.

My mom's enforcing a bed time tonight.
So I hope you have fun on your fun packed weekends. Just think of me at the gym with my mom and stop for a moment and try not to twitch.

PS- We were in the library today, god only knows why, in Geo and my teacher kept whisper whining to me about how she hated that the librarian always yelled at her to get quiet. She said she wanted to knock her head into the wall. I told her that would make too much noise. She called me a smart a**.

Feel the love.

Oh and QUEERITIES!

Febuary 9, 2011

Today I took my writing proficiency. And we couldn't walk to the bathroom without an escort and we couldn't rip anything from our scratch papers, so I feel like telling you the two prompts would get me thrown in jail or something.

I will tell you this, however, I wrote about how freakin' hilarious I was and how I didn't like group sports. You can do whatever you want with that.

It was like elementary, we had to stay in one classroom all day, sans 0 period which you have everyday. So I stayed in Ms.Blues class and read about half of my book, which keeps getting better (Paper Towns) and then eventually went to the bathroom with Ms.Blue.

I don't know if this is some kind of weird ironic, I don't even know what, but she had to escort me to the bathroom, which meant that the rest of the class room was alone. To cheat, and steal and do bad things.

She just told them to not read their books and stay quiet. Apparently I'm not to be trusted.

And then when we got in there we sat like 3 cubicles apart and it was almost like a contest on who would pee first. I lost, and you know how much trouble I have peeing when other people can hear. So right when I was almost done, she starts talking to me. Full on dinner conversation. She now knows I have a little sister who's 10, I want to be an author, I like the schools Stanford, Columbia and Berkeley, what high schools I applied too, and for what and I know she's pregnant and it takes her a long time to pee.

I feel mentally violated. Bathroom breaks are an escape from the rest of the classroom, from the teachers. Usually the only conversation going on is the one at the sinks where the girls pee on the paper towels and throw them up at the ceiling to see who's sticks. Like,'Girl, let me see if mine will stick. You see a place to put this? I do!'

Every once and a while you hear of it falling on someones lap mid break. The horrors of the public restroom.

My mom is getting me up tomorrow to ride the morning bus, and then I'm going to ride the late bus after I finally see Issy cheering at the home game after school. Should be a long day. Mighty good fun.

I also heard that because Ms.Heel's was a runner, do to her lack of desks in her classroom, she would stand in the girl's bathroom and whenever anyone would start a sentence she would say, Uh, no talking.' Just standing against the wall. Hearing you pee and yelling as you tell your friends about how your testing teacher bootlegged a version of Despicable Me with Vietnamese subtitles.

'And so were-'
No talking.
'Can you turn off the wa-'
No talking.
'Shut u-'
No talking.

Hilary Peco
If you think Ms. Deanna Hilton is pretty like this status. She needs to know how gorgeous she is!!!!!


Shoot me now. 

Because the thing is, only the popular, beautiful girls play this little game. You know who needs to be told she's beautiful? That shy girl with the mole on her cheek the size of Florida who only nods and has never once talked. She needs to know. The girl with the short orange hair that probably had cancer therapy to be like that needs to be told how amazing she is.


I don't need to be told because, Baby I know.
And Spec's doesn't need to know because she is told every single minute because were all afraid she's gonna accidentally stab herself 16 times.
And Ms.Deanna Hilton the dancer, cheerleader doesn't need to be told that she has pretty hair by 70 of her friends friends.


God, that was a bit of a rant. But I certainly deserved it. I have to ride the morning bus at 6:20. So get off my back man!
What? In his pants? Magnifico!


High on hair gel. What?


I need sleep. Not beauty sleep, don't want anyone to jealous, just sleep.


My mom wears, and yours does too........and..........zzz

QUEERITIES

Febuary 8, 2011

I'm sure you can all recall your first crush. Your first boyfriend. Your first kiss.

And while I can't say anything about the later two, I can certainly remember my first crush.
The curtain opens to a black stage. A small, frizzy haired girl of 9 stands at stage left looking onto the backdrop of Seattle Washington.

The long road trip had left her tired and anxious, and that's when Sandy walks on.  A women that would take this young girl on fishing trips and forever stay in her mind.

Yes, this was my first crush. What does this make me a homosexual as the teenagers with their music say? Maybe.

What was the point of the flashback demonstrated in paragraphs 2 and 3?
A. In order to show the authors deep feelings
B. In order to show the authors longing for her early childhood.
C. In order to portray how freakin' awesome her life is.

And as you know. The answer is always C.

I nearly passed out in 3rd period. Hannie had to hit me to perk me up, while I was playing the violin. While. Something about Bach man.

So I didn't go to NJHS so that I could go to bed early what with the proficiency writing exams tomorrow. That should be interesting.

Issy was back and on steroids. I guess her pancreas or right lung was swollen or something. She kept coughing on me and telling me,'Fool, you can't catch asthma.'

Whenever she comes back it's like she's made 50 more memories she has to share. So I heard all about her first time in Jordan's room. All about his tiger blanket and Styrofoam cutout guitar. All about the mirror on his wall that has a village depicted on it and lights up when you look into it. How that mirror sometimes scares him when he forgets to turn it off.

I couldn't refrain from reminding her that she has a clay horse head on a stick in her room.

We also got report card's today. I got strait A's and they give out little bits of subs for the strait Aer's. I always want to not take my lunch on those days, but then I feel like the day I don't take my lunch I'm gonna have like one B or something. That's the way the world works.

Bernie was gloating in 0 hour about how she will get a free lunch and I turned around and scowled her.
Me- Stop that, it's rude. Don't be so full of yourself.
Bernie- This from the one who always answers compliments by saying 'Babay, I Know'.
Lola- Baby I know.
Me- Both of you shut up.

And then me and Lola did our hand shake where I put my two white hands on the top and bottom of her brown hands and then say Quarter Pounder. And then we switch and I say Double Stuff. It's all very racist.

Speaking of racism, or not really, because I have no segue into this. We were talking at dinner and my sister mentioned how the principal had told the boys to wear all red on Friday and the girls all pink for Valentines Day. I said that she shouldn't have put genders on the colors, and simply told them to wear the colors. And then I started to think about sex changes, because I'm only a teenage girl. And then about the one girl who looks and acts like a boy in my health class.

How she dated one of the cheerleaders in 7th grade. See when this girl came in 7th grade from out of state she never had to be a girl. No one had had PE with her and this one cheerleader, Barnie, went after her. And then on the first day of PE, I'm fairly sure they were still an 'item,' Barnie walked into the locker room and said something like,'Hey, what are you doing in- Whoa.'

She doesn't talk about it any more.
God, times are good.

They gave out those ugly ArmStrong type bracelets for like not shanking anyone for a full semester and I usually throw them away, but I had to keep this one. It's rainbow swirl and says All Shapes, All Sizes, All Colors, All Special.

So remember that little rubber message. Even if you look like Urkel or Nokki Fuller.
(Who makes that stuff? What do you do for a living? I, uh, design motivational, bracelets. You? Working on that whole cancer cure thing, you've heard of that?)

PS- My mom didn't get the two socks joke either. She was just like,'I don't get it, like in his pants?'
So take a tip from my mom and put an extra pair of socks in your pants. God, she's creepy. Who, who would even say that? In his pants?!

Febuary 7, 2011

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a fairly biased when it comes to myself.
But here's the thing. My queerities (lets see if I can get that into every post) make up a highly confident, thick skinned, amazing and let's face it, beautiful young lady.

And despite the fact that my mom wants me to ask the highly popular, blond, snowboarder, German kid to the dance and that I'm unable to put money into a vending machine, talk to business people on the phone without calling them 'Miss' and I can't find a way to stop myself from making fun of Yahoo Answer users (I only posted the question a second ago, and plus these guys can't read that fast!) I know who I am. And a lot of middle school girls can't say that. Heck, most people can't say that.

I may spend a lot of time on my hair and makeup, because I'm not all the way confident in my body yet. I am so comfortable in my mind, it's almost too comfortable. No, that's a lie. Like when the dentist says,'This won't hurt a bit,'

Sorry, my nose just keeps getting bigger. I don't go to a dentist. Do we even have dentists where I live?
They're crap if we do. The people in my neighborhood need a dentist. And maybe a good wad of money for a MTV Show. Living with Out Teeth, after My Life as an Acne Ridden Adult, and before 48 and Puberty-less.

I smell an Emmy!

So aside from Spec's balling in 4th period because she wasn't on my group for a project and she thought some girls were talking about her. My day was kinda slow. I almost crashed in 6th period. Something about my teacher talking about her trip to San Francisco up until the bell, ensuring we fail all the state tests, really puts a girl to sleep,'And I didn't have any pockets!'

The people in my Geo project are Hilary, Phylis, Sarah, and Hilary's best friend of the moment, Ethel.

Ethel, is about 4 foot 9 and has lashes that walk into a room before she does. She kinda looks like those sick, bug eyed stuffed animal in the checkout line a super markets. Anyway, she doesn't hate me, but she has this death glare that she likes to give. I, being 5'7'' was teasing her about her height. But apparently telling her that she shouldn't worry because she would be a giant on the yellow brick road, didn't score me points.

Issy wasn't here, and I don't want to seem like a needy girlfriend or anything, but she really needs to text me or call me or write it in the sky, when she's gonna miss class. Otherwise I look like a moron standing in the quad for half of lunch looking for her until someone I don't know says my name affectionately and informs me of her absence.

But in many ways I am like a needy girlfriend with everyone in the world being my boyfriend. I'm like,'You stapled this all wrong!' And then their like, that ones mine the one with the two staples at 90 degree's is yours, and then I turn all smiles and unicorn and leprechauns gold.

I started a book yesterday, Paper Towns, by John Green and as of page 104, I'm kinda of in love with it. I've read his work before, but only in Will Grayson Will Grayson, a collaboration with another author. But it's made me laugh out loud 5 times, and that's something. I really only ever laugh at my own jokes and Stewie Griffins. It is my type of book, the boy coming of age novel, and it does have some boy moments, but it's definitely worth looking up.

I was considering my uncanny interest in that style of story and I think it's only another tally mark on the reasons my parents think I'm a pressed lemon. I've found my go to name for any,'Who is this person?' question is Jane Lynch and my shower song is Salt and Pepper's Shoop, Ellen version, from one of her stand ups.

What's so great about pretty boy Leo and that Brad Smitt guy, is that his name? I don't know. I don't care.

No I'm just kidding? Am I kidding? I don't even know.

Alright. I'll go. I have nothing of any importance to say anyway.

Have a good day, don't eat dog food and stay away from those kids who's eyebrows and eyeliner wings almost touch.

Febuary 6, 2010

This weekend has been kind of crazy.

I had my recital and I went over to Bernie's and then there was the SUPERBOWL!
I'm sorry. I capitalized that, but I didn't even really watch it. It makes me feel stupid. The only thing I know is that a first down has to be at least 10 yards or something.

Class on Friday was slow, in fact I think by the end of the day everyone had heard me say that at least 3 times. I've come to look forward to Health. It's like a break from the rest of the school. It's way back in the 900 hall. Which isn't even on the same bell schedule. All the bells ring 30 seconds later than the rest of the school, and the 900's have heat.

My teacher doesn't have any motivational posters that make me want to punch small children and his stories keep him too preoccupied for actual learning.

He was telling us about this time when this women brought in tacos and burritos with rancid meat and it made all the teachers sick. And then we started talking about the side effects of food poison, and that's when he told us that's why he always wears two pairs of socks.

I think that's when Spec's fell over laughing too hard, choked on her Dr.Pepper (which I'm fairly sure she thinks will make her healthy because of the DR. in the title) and we had to leave early because the ambulance came and picked her up.

And now that's she's gone, I can cross that off my bucket list and get on with my life. Look out Mt. Everest.

And then my incompetent science teacher (why did you become an educator? so that you can make sound effects while mispronouncing the elements?) gave me a book to help me with my project. God the people I work with are always so lucky. None of the work, and all the A's. That's how I roll.
I was supposed to return the book by tomorrow and that meant writing down every single use of every single element in the periodic table. And because I'm a loser with a capitol S, that's how I spent my Saturday morning.

In the afternoon I went to Bernie's and her cousins were there. They are fraternal 14 year old girls. And Bernie described them as not the sharpest tools in the tool shed. And Bernie's mom said they were the equivalent of 5 year olds.
And that's saying a lot considering the fact that the entire time I was over Bernie's mom kept walking into the living room, asking about the stank, questioning Gigi, Bernie's 5 year old sister, who would say she was tooting.

This kept happening until I was about to leave when they discovered Gigi had been crapping her pants the entire time. I don't know if she couldn't tell or if she was embarrassed, but it took everything I had and the mental image of Debra Messing and Renee Zelweger's children to keep me from laughing.

I've become obsessed with Glee over this week. And I needed it. It's like Gossip Girl's gotten so dark that I needed some high school and bright colors. Even if those aspects are shoved between bad 80's songs. And then entire premise of the show is High School Musical kicked in the nuts. With the addition of lesbians.

Though I'm fairly sure if High School Musical ever came out Sharpay and Gabriela would be getting it on. Right? I'd turn on the Disney Channel to see that.

I think my mom thinks I'm a pressed lemon.
Google that.

It's funny that I was talking about taking pictures with Bernie on my last blog. And then I went over to her house and that's all we did again.

It's like she has nothing else to do at her house. She even asked me what I do when people come over to my house in order to get ideas because we were all so bored. But then I couldn't answer the question, that's my blind spot, and things just got awkward.

She even found out about my foot problem.

I can't have feet touch me.
And now she knows, and were stronger for it.

Here's a list of my other queerities. (Yeah, that's right. I made up that word. It's a mix of queer and qualities. I always keep my promises)

I can't drink out of clear glass cups because I can see the residue of dirt on it. Whereas on mugs, it's like it doesn't exist.
I will go back to step on a crunchy leave, even if it means not getting home for an extra 5 minutes.
I always have to have at least one hair clip, bobby pin, headband in my hair. Sometimes I stick a bobby pin at the nape of my neck. So it's not visible, but it's there.

And there's more where that came from.

My mom's been pressuring me about the semi formal. And by pressure I mean casually bringing it up in conversation. It may have to do with her thinking I'm a repressed lesbian (pressed lemon) but she wants me at that dance. And she might even want me to have a date.
And I'm like fly me in Ellen and Janie and then we'll talk.

Maybe she wants me to be normal. And as FacebookFanPageGirl would say, that's just a setting on a dryer. Or something.

It's just that the Easter egg, bridesmaid look doesn't appeal to me. Neither does a cheesy Italian American club packed with Easter egg colored bridesmaids with food you probably have to pay for individually. I'm sorry. I guess I'm the weird one.

And that's when Spec's went,'Ahahahahahhahahaha, two socks at once.... for the...ahaha,'

So here's what I hope you got from this blog- the word queerities

And use it.

Until next time!

My mom wears crocs.

Febuary 3, 2011

Bernie did end up making cake for book club. Only she added a lot of water to make up for the missing egg and then fell asleep on them on the bus so they turned out to be half dirt, half brownie-like nuggets. But I was immensely proud of her.

Book club itself was fairly bad. We hardly talked about the book, though Ryan and Hilary and me all tried. No one seemed interested. Mr.Mac had moved book club so late because he had just moved into his house, got a dog and was so tired he couldn't finish it in time, and then what do you know? He doesn't have the novel finished, Ender's Game. I could have slapped him, and he kept correcting me, which made me embarrassed. I hate being embarrassed. I wish I could take it all very gracefully. I better watch some more Ellen videos. She's always graceful, even in battle.

Bernie stayed in the back and dealt with her high school applications, while she kept correcting everyone about the fact that her snack wasn't brownies it was cake!

By the end Mr.Mac had pulled out his Chuck Norris quote books and kept reading them aloud and then I had to laugh because he would look up and wait to see our reaction,'Chuck Norris solved the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle with the Pythagorean theorem.' Ahahahahahahahah! Good one!

Now I could talk about this forever, but I won't, because I like you more than a lot of people.

And you know, Ms.Heels has been on my nerves for quite some time. For some reason she acts like if you aren't Hannie, you just aren't. Or you belong in detention. She can watch Hannie eat a cookie and then scream and shout at Tim for chewing gum in the same class period.

And it's not that I'm jealous of Hannie being Ms.Heels number one, it's more the fact that there is a number one. And then 249 number 99s. It's unfair and aggravating and I constantly rewrite what I would yell at her if I ever had the chance.

But I'm a student and that comes first, above getting my 'justice.' I just wish she would stop. She yelled at us for so long and so hard the violist in my team left in tears. It's just not the way to teach.

So I'm in a bad mood from that. And it sort of set the tone for my whole day.

We all had to go to testing homeroom today to get use to the route change for next week's proficiency writing exam. I got Ms.Blue.

There are some teachers that are so different from their rumors it's crazy. And then their people who fit their gossip perfectly. Ms.Blue did exactly what she's known for. She talked to the walls. As though they were human. As though she was a wall.

I found it amusing and depressing at the same time. And then I turned to tell my imaginary friends about it and they thought it was hilarious.

We had to read essays about how great summer was. It was rather pathetic. Like the emo books Issy's mom buys her, she's currently choosing between a book called Dark Knight and Shipwrecked, oh and The Eye. Or being able to recite the funny State Farm commercials where the guy is different causes of accidents. Or putting 69 and song quotes in your user names.

I talked to Hilary about the semi formal today. Jordan asked Isadora to go with him. A little early considering it's at the end of the year, but sweet still. Now she's pepped about dress shopping and such. I used to be so sure I wanted to go and now I'm questioning that. Do I really want to? Issy's going to be with her boyfriend all night. Bernie will be with her popular friends. And that leaves me, Specs to babysit (she spits on herself like a child) who has been picking out dresses at David's Bridal for years. Add that to your pathetic list.

But then again I have a thing for masquerades. How many times have they been on Gossip Girl? And the masks seem to hide my flaws, which I appreciate. Though it's not a masquerade for sure. The other big option is Romance in Rome. Which puts a lot of emphasis on getting a date.

As I said before it's held at the Italian-American club down the street, yet everyone's voting for Mexican food to be served. What, are they stupid? The Italian American club obviously would serve the best Chinese food.

The sign outside the place use to say EAT DRINK GAMBLE. Then it said EAT DRINK. And now you can only EAT there. And the list shrinks still.

Bernie was explaining to me how she just got pretty this year and how she couldn't ruin that by having straight teeth or being able to see. She talked about buying a car and how she would drive everywhere she wanted by the times she was 16. How she wanted a blue this, and a red that. How she wanted a tattoo there and a piercing here.

And then I started to think about how when I went over to her house, that one time, we spent 2 hours on hair and makeup to take 10 Facebook photos. I just don't get it. And it makes me sad, that I can't relate to these girls that I'm the closest to.

See, I want to save up for college, something that could get me a great job, that could buy me 4 cars. And I do my hair, but it isn't so that I can make out with the neighborhood boy and hate him for weeks later.I want the back of my ear, to be the color of the front of my ear, not tattooed with roses for every ranch-dressing-loving child I have.

Because 1 isn't the loneliest number. It's just you, no one to mess that up.
99 is the loneliest number. Everyone's paired up. And then there's 99, all by itself, watching 98 and 97 talking about class and 96 and 95 discussing hair products. And 94 and 93 color coordinating for the dance.

Someday 99 finds 100. But how often do you see something sold for $100. You don't. You see $99.99.

Now that's pathetic.

Febuary 2, 2011

83 days left of school.
Wow.

My day's, lately, have been crazy busy. I can't keep my phone from ringing, you know how that goes. My social life doesn't sleep! But seriously, I've been getting so many calls and texts it's beyond...I'm sorry, I'm even laughing.

My phone calls are usually like this-
"Korola, Korola, we've done this before. Yes, yes I know you're home alone. Alright, listen closely, pressing the up button on the thermostat does not turn up the air."

Homeroom was fun, but only because Bernie was there. If she wasn't it would have been torture, it was Spec's birthday but I just kept saying Happy Groundhogs day (he saw his shadow and flipped out, by the way) and I didn't have a book to read so I had to read off Ariel's phone and the only books she had were- Glass (the second book in that series I started about suicide and cutting,) Whinnie the Pooh and Alice in Wonderland. Aw, how we've fallen.

Mr. Nose was on the morning news talking about bullying and cyber bullying. Unfortunately a poorly made power point isn't going to stop it's subject, and neither will any of the tips he gave.

The only funny thing was that in the background they played One is the Loneliest Number, which I thought was hilarious in a little bit sadistic way.

We watched Food Inc. in health, I've seen it like 5 times. Even wrote an essay on it. By now i know when to close my eyes and can still recite whats going on. Apparently we are also going to watch Super-size Me, I can't wait. I haven't seen that. I like watching other people get uglier, that's what it's about right. Is that wrong of me? In fact I've seen very few documentaries. I watched one called American High. It was badly made, supposed to look worse quality then it actually was, but I think it depicted high school fairly well.

I think I need to make a list of my favorite movies to share at share and tell. I really do.

A lot happened today, but very little of it happened to me.
There was a basketball game and the boy's finally won. And I mean this is like that old man fishing in the Old man and the Sea, it had been a long time.
The opposite of the girls, who have never lost. The coach told me this morning, while searching on someone else's desk for scissors (she said it was like lost and found) that there was no such thing as winning to much. My new personal motto.

Everyone's getting Valentines and posting about it on Facebook, as though we all cared. It is times like these that I wish there was a dislike button. I would be on all those little long-lashed, hair lipped fools number one followers.
Had a good holiday. Dislike.
Playing with my dogs in the park having soooo much fun! Dislike.

Weirdest thing happened today. Mr.Shampow told us today that if we only ate one big meal a day out bodies would store that energy just in case we needed to run from a dog.
So there I was walking home, and then the attack of the chihuahua started. It saw me from afar, it said something to it's buddies. Said something in my direction with a George Lopez accent and then ran after me. All around my ankles. I don't know what his main goal was, but I swear to God Mr. Shampow is physic and I don't know if you know this, but so am I.

Well I can see the path someone is on currently on, not the path they're going to be on. Oh wait that's that stupid Stephanie Meyer character who has a crap talent. Some vampire God does not like her,'Yeah she has to have a power, um lets make her see the present, see how that works out.'

Fiction is cruel. Look at Harry Potter. Harry ended up with a hot little sister and Ron ended up with frickin Hermione. Life is truly unfair.

But then again. I'm here, so someone up there knows what there doing.