Hey guys! So I've decided that I'm not going to be posting everyday. I'd say you probably noticed, but honestly, no body's reading this blog so it wouldn't matter anyway.

It's not that I don't enjoy writing for you faithful nonexistent readers, it's just that I hate the thought of having to post everyday. I hate deadlines. It's higher on my hit list than eating baby cows alive. (I'm a vegetarian. Besides the thought of eating live animals does not seem appetizing).

Okay. I lied. My current life right now just isn't very...eventful. So I've been pretty mellow these past few days. It's pretty weird. It's like I'm not feeling anything at all, just staring out to space in hopes of finding direction. My day consists of waking up, getting through the daylight hours, and repeating.

Sounds peaceful right? It's not. Try going through everyday when you have insomnia. I've been getting no more than four to five hours of sleep each night. It's getting worse too. Why last night I probably had a wondrous 30 full minutes of sleep.

This morning my mom thought it would be a good idea to wake me up at the inhuman time of 11:37 am after I had finally fallen asleep and decided it was a good idea to go out to eat brunch together. After heavy debate on my behalf, she dragged me from my warm, comfy bed and into the car to this asian resturant across the street from my school.

Now I'm sitting down at the table, sipping immense amounts of tea hoping it would help wake me up, but my eyelids refused to cooperate and only fluttered open when using some serious effort. I decided to look around the resturant as a way to distract myself and deny me the oppertunity to fall asleep and have my face land in my cup of tea.

Instead, I find myself finding a creeper pedo science teacher who prays on innocent chinese girls and my civics teacher who I would gladly run over with a truck. And as luck would have it, 7 cups of tea for some magical unknown reason I suddenly had to pee and their table just happened to be right infront of the washrooms.

So maybe using my newly attained purse, that I already ruined, to shield my face wasn't a good idea, because that seems to attract attention to oneself. It seemed like all the teachers I despise, and the abnormally principle decided to have a little get together to plan all the nasty things they were going to do to me once the school year starts. Anyway they noticed me hiding and gestured for me to join them. Me being the brilliant person I am, scream "NO! I, UH, GOTTA PEE! BYE!" and run into the washroom. After that, I kind of just tried not to do or say anything to attract any attention to myself.

Your (newly pronounced) weekly 5:
1. I don't like lobster and or crab.
2. Any hair on the human body that isn't on the head and or face area grosses me out like you wouldn't believe.
3. I will only drink aquafina bottled water and flavoured water.
4. I hate coke, but I like pepsi.
5. I don't really like roses. I don't hate them. I just don't love them. My favourite 3 flowers are: the daisies, water lilies, and pink tiger lilies.

Ciao.

I'm A Bad Bad Person.

I love you.

It's a poor excuse for what I've done to you, but It's all I've got.
I'm sorry.

Where'd My Dork In Tin Foil Go?

Hey guys! I'm sorry that I haven't written in like a thousand years, but things came up.

Okay. I lied, but only partly. I was busy. I was in the hospital for two days in fact, but that was then and this is now. I couldn't find anything remotely interesting to write about. Perhaps this is what they call "Writer's Block"?

But alas, I am back with new inspiration!

So after I got my braces tightened, I had to take the bus home; for some reason against the laws of physics it started hailing. Yes hailing, while it was like 30 degrees out and while the sun was beating down upon the earth. So in hopes of taking shelter, I ran to Pacific Mall, which just happened to be across the street.

Michael being the amazing person he is, met me there and we ordered some cheap Vietnamese take out we'd never heard of.

When all of a sudden this couple walks by and the girl just happens to wearing a micro mini skirt 3 sizes too small, leopard print heels and a transparent white tee that seemed to be restraining her oxygen intake. So Michael does this double take and watches as the girl walks by.

I, of course, being the jealous and offended person I was, smacked his arm and told him the horror stories of what would happen to him if he ever looked at someone as desperate as she was to recapture her youth again (cause I'm not gonna lie, she wasn't young anymore and gravity hasn't been kind to certain parts of her body).

Michael looked at me, his eyes part outraged and part offended, but his face was yet again twisted into that cute little question mark; I could feel my face twist into a question mark.

Had I assumed wrong?

Yes. Yes I did. Because as soon as I hit him, Michael turned to look at me and said "What? I was just looking at that guy's jeans. They're really nice. I wonder where he got them."

That's right people, Michael wasn't looking at the desperately skanky woman. He was looking at the man.

I'm not quite sure which scenario bothers me more: whether he was watching the woman, who which gravity nor the other powers of the Earth were very kind to, or whether he was watching the man, or to be more specific his butt swaying in really nice jeans as he walked.

I learned something that day. Michael isn't perfect. But when I think about it, neither am I. My knight in shining armour turned out to be some dork in tin foil. You know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe we're not the perfect couple. Perhaps we're pretty odd. As long as he's willing to be imperfect with me, that's my definition of being perfect.

You're (not so) Daily 5:
1. I once jumped out of a second story window as a dare in 7th grade. I was drunk at the time and I loved the feeling of not knowing where my skin ended, and where the night began.
2. I once drove my daddy's boat when we went fishing, but with supervision from my dad.
3. My pet hamster died on Christmas Eve when I was in 8th grade.
4. I saw someone get stabbed in a Footlocker, while I was trying on these awesome pair of converse.
5. Shopping is my passion. If it were a sport, I would be holding the equivalent of Stanley Cup in my arms. Right now.

Ciao.