Friggin whiz!

I had a weird dream and thought — hrm, let’s blog about it, shall we?

Not that anyone would specifically care about my dreams. Ohkay maybe a psychologist– …but that’s a whole different story ūüėČ

No, this dream was weird because it was a combination of alot of different, normal things, but slammed together in one ten minute dream, they turned the whole thing really weird. I was sitting on this big white marble slab in the middle of the ocean (it’s a dream…work w/ me here), and there is this cheese wheel in my lap. I look down and go “Friggin whiz, why the hizzle is a cheese wheel in my lap?” And suddenly my friend Katrina comes out of nowhere an screams, “Because your mom had sex with a mouse!”

That was my dream in it’s entirety. WOW. I woke up thinking what is a hizzle, and why did my mom sleep with a mouse…. I think my subconscious has a sense of humor.

Glad to have your dose of random? Me too. *blurbs*


Yearbook Stalker? Say wHaT?

XDD soooo true

I just got yet another text from him, & it jogged my memory of the situation, and I was laughing so I had to share it with you guys. Although I may just be talking to myself. Owhell. Wouldn’t be the first time ūüėČ

I am on Yearbook Staff at my school, along with¬†18 other girls & two guys. And over the summer we went to this rad little Yearbook EXPO (kinda like a convention, far less “formal”). Ten or more schools from around the state all came and we got to stay for three days at the Mariott Hotel in downtown Atlanta. Only about six of us from our school went: No guys.

One of the exercises that the announcer had us do: he gave us all these small beach balls and told us to blow them up, and put our name and school on them. Once that was done, we threw them up in the air and kept them volleying for 30 seconds. Then we all ran to one beach ball. And then you have to find the person whose ball you got. Once you found them you could sit down. Well the person’s beachball I got had his number on it too, and the named read ‘Blakis’. (1) Weird name. (2) I guess he thought he was funny because he put his number and a smiley face on it. (3) I felt a little daring, so I texted the number and said ‘come & get it, you’re beachball is by the fountain’.

— Now our teacher called us away, so I never got to see him, and he never got his beachball back.

— But that didn’t keep him from continuing to text me all night. And the next night. …in fact, up until a few weeks ago, he was still texting me. I had no clue who this kid was; didn’t know if he was some weird looking kid with googling eyes and drool coming out of the corner of his mouth.

One text message he sent me said, “Nobody wants to see us together, but it don’t matter, no, cause I got you.” If you don’t know– that’s the lyrics to Akon’s song “I Got You”. I was in one of the little seminars we were having with twenty other people, so I just rolled my eyes. And then I FROZE. …had I heard someone just humming that same song? I looked around (a little too frantically), and heard the guy in the row in front of me humming that exact Akon song. He had a hat on backwards so I could read “GTHA”¬† on it. He was messing with the girl in front of him’s chair, laughing with his friend as she hid her face in her notebook, embarassed. He was picking on her! And his jackass of a friend was just sitting there snickering like he was. I glared at the back of his head. I knew that kind of guy, because I had been that girl before. I scowled at him and texted him (though now I had to hide it, because I didn’t want him seeing me on my phone and then he suddenly gets the text, that would be kinda obvious that it was me, right) “Hey, do you have¬† GTHA hat on?”

I waited a few seconds, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. I wanted to scream ‘KNEW IT!’ but I didn’t. I just sat there, watching as his eyes got really big and he started looking around the room for someone with a friend (cuz remember, he’d never seen me, and up till now I hadn’t seen him). He nudged his friend and was like “Fuck, she’s in here!” I slid my phone under a lock of my shirt on my lap, and acted like I was focusing on the speaker. But he didn’t think to turn around (once again, he was literally RIGHT in front of me. Like I could rest my feet on the back of his chair). He texted back “where are you baby?”. Yes, this jerk was really bad at flirting, and even to this day he won’t stop calling me baby.

I told him that I could see him, and he asked “So you like what you see, huh?”. I scowled again, but managed to hide it since his friend was looking at the row behind them: my row. After he turned back around, I texted: “Sorry, jackass is not my type. Leave the poor girl alone.” His foot stopped pushing her chair and he elbowed his friend again. His friend laughed but left the girl alone too. She sat back in her chair, relieved but still blushing.¬† I didn’t text him back until I got back to our hotel room. He kept asking me to meet him for a makeout session, but I’m not an idiot and I’m not easy.

We started calling him my stalker¬†at the Expo :))) I’d get a text and Katie/Jasmine/Rachel/Kayllee would say “That your stalker?”


So here it is: September. Almost a month & a 1/2 later. And he’s back to talking to me again. When I’m really bored and the person I want¬† to talk to isn’t responding, I talk to him. Rachel says it’s not good to agg on a stalker X). He is not sweet, not that funny, he’s cute–hell yeah, but who cares? Like I said, jackass is not my type.



Someone who has nearly my exact same views on my beloved music, loves the book series that I am adoring at the moment, fits my exact type of attraction, is single, and a charming sweetheart with green-gray eyes.



.too bad he lives in Maine.

A Twilight Hour

Okay…so I’m sure everyone who’s reading this already knows by now, but I have a new…hobby? Obsession? Okay let’s try to rephrase this: My time is now being devotedly spent in– getting to know my Twilight plotlines, looking up pictures and YES..fanfictions. Some of them are seriously as cute as they could have been if I had type them up myself.

If anyone is reading this going OH NO, SHE’S ONE OF THEM. A Twilighter! Run!

NO. We are normal…or at least I am. But the inspiration that Edward is to Bella’s life (no spoilers going to be in this post, so no worries to those who haven’t made it through the first book yet :)) was kind of an inspiration to mine. The sheer love, the utteral compassion and devotion that he shows to her throughout the series is the exact kind of love that I look for. No, I don’t expect to find it in my Junior, or maybe even my Senior year in highschool, but who knows? Course I would have to find that love first. But the sheer caring he shows for her, despite his constant battles with his innerself (who he considers a monster), is just so breathtakingly sweet. I’m desperate for that type of passion. And I pray to God that one day, somehow, I’d be able to experience that love for just a split moment. I experience that, and I could die a happy hopeless romantic girl.

Edward’s not a bad addition to the book either! X] -raises eyebrows suggestively-

Not only his hotness, but his charm. I’m a sucker for elequant, well-thought-out charms! And Edward has had 108 years to practice his. hehehe. And if you all don’t already know (if I haven’t screamed it in your ear since I first heard it) THE MOVIE PREMIERES NOVEMBER 21ST. I’m going with at least fifteen people, and I’m going to paint my face and wear gold contacts. Laura & I are going to do it, at least. I don’t know about the rest of you awesonesses. You should! I will assist in any costume making, hehe. I’m making my own “Team Edward” Shirt.

Goodnigt, luvs.

Forget the Summer Breeze, bring on the chills

Yes, the chills in ever sense of the word.

FINALLY, after months of waiting, the air outside has cooled down a microscopic few points. But that is enough for me. In the damn South we rarely get cold weather before late-September, so I’m grateful for the early chill. I walked outside today and nearly squeaked with happiness– I could wear a jacket. Jacket’s are sooo comfortable, and hoodies, OMFGZ. Woolie bliss!

And besides the weather, I can get my own chills in school. But these are the kind you can’t fix with a jacket or a sweater. These shivers make you feel like you could just unlatch yourself from your skin and scurry away, but of course you can’t, and you’re stuck there wondering why you’re such a blumbering idiot. I get these alot.

A good antidote to the uneasiness is one of Darien’s hugs! :]] Best hug-giver in the world; he’s been good at keeping me sane this year without Alex. I’m trying to get a sense of school-life without him. Totally hard. There are very few people at that school that don’t obsess about Gossip, Social Ladders, and Hallway Makeouts — and I think those few people make up 90% of my friends.¬† So when I come out of Yearbook (honestly the most relaxing && stressful class of the day), I get one hug every day. It helps calm me before I get to Chemistry: My most boring class of the day.

As a matter-O-fact, that class has dramatically improved over the past few weeks. There are now people there that I can communicate without wanting to knock them over the head because of their sheer stupidity. But they are few in number: about three. I know I shouldn’t judge any of the others, but REALLY PEOPLE. How does one make it to the 11th grade without knowing what an atom is? That it is seperated into three parts? We’ve all taken Physical Science twice in our life — 6th grade AND 9th grade! What the hell? Did they sleep through those two years or something?

I guess it’s just me peeving.¬† I’ll turn to a lighter note. I have a serious case of the Butterflies. I guess it’s totally¬†wrong for me to have them, for so many reasons including: they’re most likely¬†completely useless. It hasn’t happened yet, why am I expecting it to happen anytime soon? Just get through it, and come back to me.

My eyes are thanking me gladly that they don’t have to get up at six o’clock tomorrow morning. Why, you ask? Because it’s¬† a SATURDAY!! And although I have my baby cousin’s first year birthday party to go to, that’s not till the afternoon, so I might get a full 9 hour sleep. But let’s just hope ūüėČ

— I am writing to you, whoever thee may be, from the smallest town on Earth, Georgia.