Post Sixty-Four.

How to Survive a Zombie Invasion.

That is the topic of my research paper for Lit/Comp III on Survival.
Eat your freaking heart out.
It will be BA.
It will be awesome.
You will be jealous.
Nyahaha.

I want to get the Zombie Attack survival book to use for it.
I might, but I don't know yet.
I'm definitely using Shaun of the Dead as a reference.
(:

Post Sixty-Three.

I look, but I don't see.
I hear, but I don't listen.
I touch, but I don't feel.

Post Sixty-Two.

I cried again, just a bit ago. Two days in a row. I hate crying. I really do. I'm ugly when I cry. We all are. It's just a disgusting thing. It's weak. I'm weak.

I wish I couldn't say why I'm upset, but I know why. I know all too well. I find it kind of selfish of me, honestly. Things are far from the same when it started. Cute turned to crude. I hate it. I hate what things have become. Is it my fault? Is it yours? Single blame is far from fair. We both played a part, I'm sure.

Is it selfish that I wish things were back to what they were before?
I miss long discussions of nothing in particular.
I miss intelligent conversations.
I miss times that were adorable.
I miss when things seemed innocent.
I miss the old joking around.

Things change quickly. Life never stops. But what if I wasn't really ready? What if I wasn't prepared of what was to come? Was I okay with everything? I thought I was.

I'm still a kid.

Did I ask for too much?
In return, was too much asked from me?

What was here left.
Lost.
Lost.
Will it ever return?

Please return.
I miss what has been lost.

Post Sixty-One.

Hmm... everyone kept calling today Gay Pride Day. But, It was GSA Pride Day... so, eh.
Though, it was a huge success. Only a few teachers refused to support--one in particular I expected to do so. Edler totally went on a rand about how they were hypocritical Christians by doing so. Also said how she would go the other way once she got rid of her husband. Oh, love Edler. I defo love Hogan to... because he talked about it during class and how it was the American way to be tolerant and we all need to accept everyone, no matter skin or sexuality or anything else. Even Mr. Mendenhall wore a ribbon! Ahhhh, so excited.

Not feeling so hot lately. Iunno, just down.
Not cool. Not cool at all.

stup flaming ok! btw u suk frum no on evry tim sum1 flams me im gona slit muh ristsz!

Ah, I love inside jokes.

Post Sixty.

So, I'm sitting next to Jessica. Its early and we're waiting for everyone to show up for the meeting this morning.

Pete's mustache smells like dog, but it's hella sexy and bitchin'. WURD. I'm so jealous and so is Jessica.

I wish I was in pajamas right now. Like Nicole. Lucky bitch.

Pete's talking bout oranges. Fucking Mexican. Now I want oranges. GDI.

End post.

(NOTE: Had to copy and paste from Jessica's later on because the computer I was using wouldn't submit post. Q.Q)

Post Fifty-Nine.

I've been slacking on posts. Hell, I've been slacking on everything online.

I'll have to message me mum back on myspace... She messaged me ages ago and I just can't be arsed to write up a message. I've actually got a whole bunch that I need to respond to. I read them all... just don't write back. Yeah, yeah... I know: Lazy.

I think I'm going to start making me a pitcher of green tea. Because, I mean... we're not using the kool-aid pitcher anymore. So, mmm... green tea.

I love toasted bagels. I don't mean warmed up ones in the toaster. I mean toasted ones in the toaster. Q.Q So delicious. I like toasted things in general, honestly. Not when people are toasted... or baked... though. Drugs just... to each his own, I suppose.

I'm enjoying taking Art II already.

Post Fifty-Eight.

It's crazy how we become so different in such a short time.



"Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost, no birth, identity, form--no object of the world, nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;...the body, sluggish, aged, cold--the embers left from earlier fires,...shall duly flame again."
— Walt Whitman

Post Fifty-Seven.

Fallacies of Logic Skit

Jennifer is driving and gets pulled over with Lily and Megan with her.

Brookesany: License and registration ma’am.

Jennifer: It’s under all these bibles, hold on.

Lily and Megan: Yeah

Jennifer, Lily, and Megan search through the car, pulling out many bibles, among other random artifacts within the car.

Brookesany: I really need that license and registration ma’am.

Jennifer: Why?

Brookesany: Did you see how fast you were going?

Jennifer: I know how fast I was going, but did you see the guy in front of me? He was going way faster and he was all jamming out to his loud music. It looked like he was going to a party. Do you know what’s at parties? Chicks and booze. Do you know what happens with chicks and booze? I know. Do you know? I don’t know, do you know? You know. (Jennifer continues to ramble. . .)

Brookesany: Ma’am, just forget it. You can go.

Post Fifty-Six.

Fuck bitches.
Get money.


You'll remember me when I'm dead.
You'll remember me when I move away.

'Cos son, there's no way you'll forget a kid like me.

New Year's was a blast. DDR and Pictionary for hours on end. Not a better way to go, methinks. Well, could've been a bit better. But, that's besides the point. I had a blast.

There were no jackals. There wasn't a fisting. And that gun was definitely not a penis. Neither was that squigly blob... don't ask.

<3