New Last Post

So the car is going. That's good. But now I'm expected to drive dad everywhere. Which is Not Boyz.
Of course I'm exaggerating when I say everywhere, but the fact that I got told off for not waking up an hour early so that I could drive him to work is a bit ridiculous, and it's certainly not selfish.

I'm sure not a Belieber, but I think Beliebism is hilarious. Though it's also worrying when there are crying Beliebers and they are older than me.

We're watchin Where The Wild Things Are in Film Club tomorrow. Mr Larsen and I have arranged FC so that it is worht valid Arts' Points and mertis a group photo at the end of the year. Cool huh?

Um, school remains to be good. It's dumb, because I do well and I have heaps of friends and all my teachers love me. But I always think that perhaps I'm actually not that good at anything. And I've thought about it heaps, and and the mroe I think about it, the more I think it's true. I mean particularly ever since I got this Fancy Locker Room, I mean I can't run, or run fast, or throw a ball, or beat people up in a non-violent way, or play and instrument, I can't speak any other languages, I can't solve equations or draw graphs or find the solution for x, I can't sing, I can't swim, I can't dance, I can't be quiet and normal. What can I do?
I can read the notices. And people laugh at the way I talk. Oh, and I can sometimes be good with words. But this Blog may not agree with me.

I don't want my dad to sleep in Mr Burden's office. I don't want him to sleep in The Sammy Ho Albertian Quad either. Silly Mouth Girl not realising that my dad isn't Frank. It should be fun though. We're hoping to sneak out and play games with torches and hiding and running and such.

Hey computer, do you think that my friends that I've had for ages think I'm rude? I don't mean the ones that are better then the rest. I mean the Dancing, Smoking, Pill-Poppin' ones? Because ever since I made friends that are all way better people than I am I feel like I hang out with them less. And most of the time it's because I'm doing stuff. Like Sheilah Winn, or Film Club, or Theatre Sports, or Production, or Arts Committee, or Ball Committee, or Prefect Meetings, or Stage Challenge, or Glee, or Media Schol, or Art History Schol, or English Schol or meeting with Mr Burden, or meeting with Jacqui, or meeting with Huddlefucky. And only hardly ever is it just because I can't be bothered to walk to them. I don't want them to think I'm rude. Am I being rude? It's hard to be rude, isn't it? I don't know? Do you computer? Why am I asking you anyway? Fux Q.

Aww. Fux Q.

Um. I got drunk once. And I got his ideals gone highway twice. This is unusual. I mean it's already time for my bi-monthly cycle. Oh, I may have got heavenly images generating hell three times actually.

Then there was the scandal where BigTitties Cunty Burger was being rude even though I was upset. But it was okay because even though when you decide not to do relationships for like four years because it's not worth it because you know that, actually, you're really young, and then when you decide to finally start thinking about being into people seriously and you spend ages having the first person who you like-Like-like for your entire adolescence tell you about how great you are and you feeling really happy and then they tell you how much they want you to be with them and then you don't know how to txt back so you just tell them how you feel because that is the nice and proper way to do it, when your together by the pool and under the pagoda, it was okay. Because even though all that happened and then they just got with some other Muscle on the same sofa as you, you still had the good people who chase you up the marble stair case into the pretend Gryffindor Common Room and tell you nice things that make it easier to see because they make you laugh and the "helpless balm of your poor eyes" falls into the bowl of chips your friend on the other side has decided will cheer you up = being into people < friends.

I started thinking about what I would write on people's shirts when the time came for Vivids and Polos and Blouses. It's going to be way easier to tag the clothing of the people you hardly know or will never see again but you always hung out with in Wednesday Third Period because you didn't like anyone else in that class. Yeah. Those guys are going to be the best people ever to write for.

Jacqui McCracky wants me to get Huddle McFucky fired. But Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh jumping up and down shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I thought noone was going to show up to my party. Well, maybe like ten. And none of them would have known each other. And then Calvin may have shown up a bit stoned and vomited in my kitchen, and then my parents would never let me have friends over ever again.

Lucky for me everyone showed up to my party. Maybe even like fifty. And they all had a great time knowing each other. Calvin didn't show up. Two people asked if they could vomit in my toilet. And my parents made everyone breakfast. It was great. And now I'm not too young to be FC's friend. Or at least for a few months.

FC is Film Club and FC Is Fattty Chest. Hahaha.

I'm glad Google Images isn't in charge of the Decoration Committee