Walking my dog is not only an experience; it is a lesson that will never be forgotten. Some is her fault, and most is mine. So my mom got mad at me because I was sitting in my room watching TV and not doing anything so she said either I had to clean my room or take the dog for a walk. I don't really care if my room looks like a tornado ripped through it or not, so out me and my dog went. Somewhere along the line, we lost my dog's normal leash. When I say 'we' I mean 'me' because no one else takes her for walks. But anyways, we're left with the 20 foot obnoxiously purple leash or the highlighter yellow leash the Humane Society gave us when we bought her. I chose the yellow.
So we go walking around the normal neighborhood and if anyone has ever walked a dog in the winter can sympathize with me, that it is easier to walk a dog in the summer, not only because it is too hot for the dog to pull on the leash but when they take four pisses in one person's lawn, the owner is oblivious. When the yellow stain on the otherwise white snow accompanied by dog tracks, hiding it is slightly more difficult. While Lana didn't pee four times in one person's lawn she did pee in four separate people's lawns. How dogs have so much stored inside of them, I will never know. But some guy did see her pee in his neighbor's lawn when my attention wavered due to one of those vulgar blow-up Santa decorations that people put in their lawns that they call 'cute.' So Lana and I were forced to dash away, dash away, dash away all. She also pulled and pulled and pulled until my wrist was red from her and she couldn't breathe normally, just gasping wheezing breaths of someone having an asthma attack.
unfortunately, that is not the worst. Considering how Christmas is two days away (and it's 43 degrees outside and it's supposed to rain on Christmas...what's this world coming to?) and most people have Christmas decorations up in every variation. Including those wooden white reindeer with those red bows. Five separate times, the hair on the back of my dog's neck rose (and so did the hair right before her tail, but not in between, my dog's so weird) and she dragged me to the side of the street so she could growl and bark at those strange creatures that don't move but might be threatening.
But, sadly enough, the worst is yet to come. And it is not Lana's doing. Considering it is Christmas and an excess of Christmas cookies and eggnog is constantly in my system, that might be the only explanation of what I did. So we were about half way done with the walk, and my arm is aching from constantly yanking Lana back from chasing wooden reindeer, licking the melting snow, eating the melting snow and the like. I wondered what Lana would be like as a guide dog. Maybe if I pretended I couldn't see, she would stop pulling and just walk normally. We were walking down a side road, not like there were going to be any cars or people or anything watching me, so what the hell right? Wrong. Way wrong. I shut my eyes, one hand still attached to my dog, and the other hand stretched out way in front of me, like...well, like a 17-year-old pretending she can't see. What I soon learned was that no one over the age of, um, 11 should do that because not only did a car come right at me and I nearly didn't see it, but a few little kids were out playing in their yard and they started stretching their hands in front of them and took robot steps with their eyes closed and then pointed and laughed. I, once again, ran away.
It was almost as embarrassing as the time a few days ago when my sister and I went shopping for my brothers at Kohl's and I somehow got lost in women's robes (how do I get myself in these situations) and thought my sister was right behind me so I started yelling, "Carinne. Carinne! Where are you?!" Until the 80 year-old saleswomen asked me if I was lost, sweetie. Then she walked away again and I thought I saw her and was halfway through saying, "No, dad didn't call us but I don't---you're not Carinne," when I realized it was not my maroon haired sister, but a middle-aged woman with a toddler who was laughing at me. Bad things just happen to me, what can I say?
But it's Christmas, and the Steelers are playing tomorrow so Merry Christmas to all!
Friday, December 23, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Semaine Français
French Week in Shaler Area is a sight to behold. Now, all of you Shalerites know how strange it is. Most schools would not call it normal to have pictures of girls drawn on the walls doing the Can-Can in fluffy skirts and having their hair tied back, which more looks like a flag than actual hair, nor is it normal to walk down the Language hallway to have huge (and when I say huge I mean like longer than a classroom huge) drawings of different shop-fronts from the main street in old Paris. Now, get me straight, I'm not bashing anything. If you think I'm making fun of the artist who drew (has drawn? Hell if I know; grammar and spelling are for pompous people) those Can-Caning girls, or the architect who painted the Moulon Rouge on the window of our cafeteria, or all of the shopfronts, consisting of Virgin Mobile Megastore, and some cafes that I can't even pretend to know how to pronounce, or Sephora, or of course, the Eiffel Tower, you're sadly mistaken, my friend. Anyone who has gotten a note from moi knows that art is not my special talent (I seem to be unable to give a note to a friend without one stick-figure with crazy-ass hair depicting anyone from myself, to a teacher, to anyone I have basically ever known. It's just what I do to spice up an otherwise boring-as-all-get-out note. If I could somehow put stick-figures in everyone of these posts, rest assured that I would.).
But the best thing to behold on French Week is that I do believe it started on a Wednesday (starting on the beginning of the week just makes too much sense, it's too easy to predict then), when I was casually strolling down the Lanuage hallway, trying to get to my Sociology class, when I passed Madame Maiser's room. Those of whom who do not have French don't know that Madame is about....Well I don't know, but she is not a young woman anymore. Walking down the hallway, staring at all of these huge posters of places you've never been to and not even heard of that seemed to have put themselves up overnight (because they did), and all of a sudden all you can hear is the Can-Can blaring out of the French room. Even that is, you know, copable? Able to be coped with? I dunno. Give me a break, it's a week before Thanksgiving (37 days until Christmas! I'm excited!) and all I seem to be able to think about is turkey and chocolate cake.
Anyways, hearing the Can-Can out of the French room is able to be dealt with, I mean, it is Shaler and stranger things have happened, I can tell you. Actually, I can't. I am unable to think of one semi-interesting/shocking thing that would make a random song coming out of a room seem ordinary. But anyways, what throws me for a loop is hearing not-quite-so-young Madame Maiser singing and dancing along to said song. My mouth drops open, and all I Can-Can do is laugh. I keep on moving and laughing, which turns out not to be the smartest move ever because I'm walking alone and people tend to stare at the girl who laughs for no reason.
Oh, well. All I can say is rock on to the French people, because they can pull it off. If Spanish tried it, no one would care nor help (I'm living proof of that. Ask me to help put up signs of famous Spanish/Mexican landmarks all around the school, you better brace yourself because you're going to be getting laughed at.), and no one really cares about Latin. I'm sorry, erm, Latin-ers, but they don't. The only reason anyone takes it is for the SAT's, am I right? And if Japanese people tried to put Anime people all over the walls? With all the Gothic and not-so nice people, and well, just un-cooperative people in Shaler(more specifically, me), I really don't think it'd wash. If I insulted your language, I apologize, because I know you're very attached to the subject you're learning, but it's only my opinion. Which is kind of why I started this blog. To whine about things that happens to me and tell strange things that don't always necessarily happen to me, but simply talk about it. Maybe I just started this to talk. That sounds reasonable.
Well, unless something absolutely amazing happens at work this weekend (I think I'm working all three nights again, what joy), I doubt I'll post again before Thanksgiving, and beware: at this time of year I go Christmas-happy. So for the next four weeks, my posts will probably all consist of something related to Christmas. I'm just that obsessed, and it happens. Anyways, have a good Thanksgiving to all and don't kill yourself playing a Turkey Bowl (us girls are too fragile to play...)
P.S. I still suck at Powderpuff. And if you didn't know, I think I posted this last time but I don't care, come support Juniors this Monday night, 6:00 on the HS Turf. Be there! Actually, you'll be able to pick me out because I was absent from school today and didn't get a jersey, so I'll be the chick who's sharing several people's jersey...For the total of like once I go in.
Anyways, Adios (I can't seem to be able to end this damn post)...Or should I say, Au revoir?
But the best thing to behold on French Week is that I do believe it started on a Wednesday (starting on the beginning of the week just makes too much sense, it's too easy to predict then), when I was casually strolling down the Lanuage hallway, trying to get to my Sociology class, when I passed Madame Maiser's room. Those of whom who do not have French don't know that Madame is about....Well I don't know, but she is not a young woman anymore. Walking down the hallway, staring at all of these huge posters of places you've never been to and not even heard of that seemed to have put themselves up overnight (because they did), and all of a sudden all you can hear is the Can-Can blaring out of the French room. Even that is, you know, copable? Able to be coped with? I dunno. Give me a break, it's a week before Thanksgiving (37 days until Christmas! I'm excited!) and all I seem to be able to think about is turkey and chocolate cake.
Anyways, hearing the Can-Can out of the French room is able to be dealt with, I mean, it is Shaler and stranger things have happened, I can tell you. Actually, I can't. I am unable to think of one semi-interesting/shocking thing that would make a random song coming out of a room seem ordinary. But anyways, what throws me for a loop is hearing not-quite-so-young Madame Maiser singing and dancing along to said song. My mouth drops open, and all I Can-Can do is laugh. I keep on moving and laughing, which turns out not to be the smartest move ever because I'm walking alone and people tend to stare at the girl who laughs for no reason.
Oh, well. All I can say is rock on to the French people, because they can pull it off. If Spanish tried it, no one would care nor help (I'm living proof of that. Ask me to help put up signs of famous Spanish/Mexican landmarks all around the school, you better brace yourself because you're going to be getting laughed at.), and no one really cares about Latin. I'm sorry, erm, Latin-ers, but they don't. The only reason anyone takes it is for the SAT's, am I right? And if Japanese people tried to put Anime people all over the walls? With all the Gothic and not-so nice people, and well, just un-cooperative people in Shaler(more specifically, me), I really don't think it'd wash. If I insulted your language, I apologize, because I know you're very attached to the subject you're learning, but it's only my opinion. Which is kind of why I started this blog. To whine about things that happens to me and tell strange things that don't always necessarily happen to me, but simply talk about it. Maybe I just started this to talk. That sounds reasonable.
Well, unless something absolutely amazing happens at work this weekend (I think I'm working all three nights again, what joy), I doubt I'll post again before Thanksgiving, and beware: at this time of year I go Christmas-happy. So for the next four weeks, my posts will probably all consist of something related to Christmas. I'm just that obsessed, and it happens. Anyways, have a good Thanksgiving to all and don't kill yourself playing a Turkey Bowl (us girls are too fragile to play...)
P.S. I still suck at Powderpuff. And if you didn't know, I think I posted this last time but I don't care, come support Juniors this Monday night, 6:00 on the HS Turf. Be there! Actually, you'll be able to pick me out because I was absent from school today and didn't get a jersey, so I'll be the chick who's sharing several people's jersey...For the total of like once I go in.
Anyways, Adios (I can't seem to be able to end this damn post)...Or should I say, Au revoir?
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Powderpuff, baby!
Well, it's that time of year again, ladies and gents. Powderpuff football! In last years fiasco, the Juniors got their asses handed to them when they lost to the Seniors 27-zippo. This year, us Juniors swear that it'll be different, I mean, can we can't out-do last year's Juniors...The only thing is, for as long as we can remember, all the Juniors swear that this year will be the year that changes things. This year will be the year that the Juniors kick the crap out of the Seniors, rather than the other way around. Last year, I sat in Spanish listening to all the Juniors brag about how good they are and how they're going to win, and we already mentioned the end of that game....But the point is, everyone's saying the same thing this year. All of my friends swear that we will end the curse, and we'll win, and I can't pretend that I don't say that, because it's all part of the game.
So, anyways. Today was the first practice. There are three practices for two hours. Do you expect us to be any good? I figure the Seniors are always better because they got three more practices than the Juniors...Even if it was a year ago. So I decided that I should be a receiver. Can I catch you ask? On a good day. Can I throw? God, NO! Any wonder I didn't try out for quarterback? I realize I'm fast...So if by some un-Godly chance the ball gets thrown to me, and , even more unlikely, I catch it, chances are I can out-run most people. It's the catching stuff that gets me. We learned the Hitch, Slant, and, well, I can't remember the other one, but it's the one when you fake down the sideline and I'm pretty sure it starts with 'F.' The Hitch and Slant I can do, but the other one? Oh, man. We were practicing them (along with which side you had to go on...That was confusing if anything ever was), and one of our coaches (all the Junior football players took it upon themselves to try to teach us), Marcus, decided that I should do the long one just so he could throw the ball down field to hit one of his friends. That was great. But our coaches were really nice. Todd told everyone they did good, even those who sucked *cough, me cough*, and gave a genuine effort to teach us the right thing. Marcus just kind of supported him and was a laugh. I told Marcus that I was not a quarterback after my attempt at throwing the ball back at Todd and all he said was, "I think everyone has figured that out by now." Just smile and nod...
Then we tackled defense. Ha! That was great. I am not someone who can tackle at will. I am not someone who can even try to stay with someone. It just doesn't work. That's all I need to say about defense. I'm an offender and that's that.
Actually, the most fun was when they threw the ball down the field and everyone had to try and get the ball. It always ends up in a huge freaking pile-up, when everyone just jumps on each other, really. Hence the name "Tackle the man." But I got there first, but being a munchkin, I sorta got picked up...And someone ran off with it. I was also the one at the bottom of the pile, getting there first. That was quite fun, let me tell you. It was sort of a negative.
But maybe everyone else is good. We're supposed to get equal time, but somehow the groups got put into 'popular' and 'not.' I was part of 'not.' Laz, the actual coach, said that we're all supposed to get equal time but when there's 20 receivers alone, it's just not going to happen. If I go in once, I'll be one happy camper. Someone said that there already was a list made up, and I'm sure I'm not one of them. It was made before the practice, and this just reinforced it. I promise though, I don't mean to whine. If you think I joined up because I was actually good, you're sadly mistaken. I suck and I know it. I'm just there for a good time.
But if you're bored on Monday the 21st, come out and watch us. We normally get a pretty packed house, will all the guys just wanting to watch girls play football and all the girls trying to see the Seniors get their asses whipped. Plus all the parents. But if you come, bring some dollars 'cause it costs something because all the money goes to Breast Cancer. So it's for a good cause. And if you do decide coming is the thing to do, make sure you bring a sign that is neon-pink with orange letters screaming, "ALEX PARK IS A BEAST!" Just kidding, but keep it in mind....lol.
Make sure you support the JUNIORS of '07 because we're great.
And some chocolate covered pretzels are calling my name so I'll give you another interesting story some other day!
P.S. If you know anything at football and are willing to coach a short, bad-catching Junior, leave a comment. Or just leave your support. Comments are always appreciated!
So, anyways. Today was the first practice. There are three practices for two hours. Do you expect us to be any good? I figure the Seniors are always better because they got three more practices than the Juniors...Even if it was a year ago. So I decided that I should be a receiver. Can I catch you ask? On a good day. Can I throw? God, NO! Any wonder I didn't try out for quarterback? I realize I'm fast...So if by some un-Godly chance the ball gets thrown to me, and , even more unlikely, I catch it, chances are I can out-run most people. It's the catching stuff that gets me. We learned the Hitch, Slant, and, well, I can't remember the other one, but it's the one when you fake down the sideline and I'm pretty sure it starts with 'F.' The Hitch and Slant I can do, but the other one? Oh, man. We were practicing them (along with which side you had to go on...That was confusing if anything ever was), and one of our coaches (all the Junior football players took it upon themselves to try to teach us), Marcus, decided that I should do the long one just so he could throw the ball down field to hit one of his friends. That was great. But our coaches were really nice. Todd told everyone they did good, even those who sucked *cough, me cough*, and gave a genuine effort to teach us the right thing. Marcus just kind of supported him and was a laugh. I told Marcus that I was not a quarterback after my attempt at throwing the ball back at Todd and all he said was, "I think everyone has figured that out by now." Just smile and nod...
Then we tackled defense. Ha! That was great. I am not someone who can tackle at will. I am not someone who can even try to stay with someone. It just doesn't work. That's all I need to say about defense. I'm an offender and that's that.
Actually, the most fun was when they threw the ball down the field and everyone had to try and get the ball. It always ends up in a huge freaking pile-up, when everyone just jumps on each other, really. Hence the name "Tackle the man." But I got there first, but being a munchkin, I sorta got picked up...And someone ran off with it. I was also the one at the bottom of the pile, getting there first. That was quite fun, let me tell you. It was sort of a negative.
But maybe everyone else is good. We're supposed to get equal time, but somehow the groups got put into 'popular' and 'not.' I was part of 'not.' Laz, the actual coach, said that we're all supposed to get equal time but when there's 20 receivers alone, it's just not going to happen. If I go in once, I'll be one happy camper. Someone said that there already was a list made up, and I'm sure I'm not one of them. It was made before the practice, and this just reinforced it. I promise though, I don't mean to whine. If you think I joined up because I was actually good, you're sadly mistaken. I suck and I know it. I'm just there for a good time.
But if you're bored on Monday the 21st, come out and watch us. We normally get a pretty packed house, will all the guys just wanting to watch girls play football and all the girls trying to see the Seniors get their asses whipped. Plus all the parents. But if you come, bring some dollars 'cause it costs something because all the money goes to Breast Cancer. So it's for a good cause. And if you do decide coming is the thing to do, make sure you bring a sign that is neon-pink with orange letters screaming, "ALEX PARK IS A BEAST!" Just kidding, but keep it in mind....lol.
Make sure you support the JUNIORS of '07 because we're great.
And some chocolate covered pretzels are calling my name so I'll give you another interesting story some other day!
P.S. If you know anything at football and are willing to coach a short, bad-catching Junior, leave a comment. Or just leave your support. Comments are always appreciated!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Open War
I have declared open warfare on 1/3 up to 1/2 of my household. My father has decided that Spanish class is brilliant work, even through my mother and I insist that Isreal is, indeed, a nutcase. That, no matter how many times you say it, or try it, learning about how to put your suitcase in a baggage claim in a Spanish-speaking country, I will never care about the words dealing with an airport in Spanish. Never.
The whole point of this is that this weekend, the entire Park Clan is going up to visit my sister. And I'm not saying 'the clan' figuratively, oh no. My grandparents and my aunt and uncle are coming down with us. We're staying in my other uncle's house. The entire clan. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my family. It's just, I don't want to be driving down the Turnpike with an entire slew of cars behind us, looking like a bloody caravan. No thanks. I don't mind that they're coming, it is Carinne's birthday after all, but right now, more than ever, I wish I could take a vacation away from my family. Go to Mexico with my friends. If I had the money, I would definitely want to. Anyone want to pay the way for a girl to go to Mexico? Anyone? At all? Oh well, it was worth a shot.
You're probably wondering how Spanish class fits into all of this, hmm? Oh, it's good stuff. Well, because my father felt generous, actually he probably wanted to miss the traffic, he offered to get us out of school at noon. Now, the rest of the paragraph goes with the 'fortuanetly' 'unfortunately' book that everyone reads in second grade. Fortunately, I'm in Spanish at noon. Unfortunately, one of my brothers is in-between classes at noon and the other is in lunch. My dad said that he would pick them up first and me last. I told him to pick me up early, at 11:30 and I can go pick them up at the end of the period. Oh no. That would be the smart thing to do. The rest of the conversation gets very angry and ends with, "I've made my decision and that's final. If you want to argue anymore, Alex, I will only get angry."
"FINE! Fine! Make me miserable! Make me miss the only three classes I actually like! Make me suffer through the hellish class dubbed 'Spanish Four.' " (Ok, so I improvised here, but you get the picture.)
"If you want to go to those classes so much you can have a whole day and stay home for the weekend!" If I was intelligent, I would have said fine and proceeded to have a party after all had left. But, as all of you know, I am not smart. The thrilling idea didn't occur to me until I was driving Cameron to swimming, but I wish I was just a bit quicker. Like 45 minutes quicker.
So that is my tirade against Spanish, Ms. Isreal, and my father. But, oh no! The whining continues! It's like one of those bad movies, it just won't end. Anyways....
My little brother, the angel, as most of the world sees him, is a crapface. And that's being nice. He did not want to go to swim practice so badly that he would not drop it until I flipped out and started yelling. This is after the Spanish incident, of course. So my blood pressure is high enough anyways, add a whiney 12 year old who has the world at their beck and call. (Older siblings, don't the youngest ones on your nerves? Youngest ones, don't piss off the older ones, they will eventually get payback...somehow. Remember, our older brains can think of payback in ways you can't fathom. Ok, so we try but then you tell on us and we get in trouble again. Middle children, get out while you still can. You never win. Beleive me, I know. You're not their first baby, nor their last baby, you're just baby. And that's not good.) Then he called my parents so he could get his way. Wonderful.
Gah. I know reading about someone bitching is not so fun, but I had to get this out and all of my friends know how angry I am. Maybe anger management might be a good idea....I already tried screaming into a pillow. No result except my throat hurts. If you have any good suggestions on releasing my-family-is-driving-me-up-the-wall anger, please need a comment. And anything short of a long vacation to Aruba, I will be willing to try.
So until next time, I'll hopefully figure out how to put some pictures of my beautiful new car (which I'm already grounded from, cringe) and maybe this weekend. I just need to figure out how.
The whole point of this is that this weekend, the entire Park Clan is going up to visit my sister. And I'm not saying 'the clan' figuratively, oh no. My grandparents and my aunt and uncle are coming down with us. We're staying in my other uncle's house. The entire clan. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my family. It's just, I don't want to be driving down the Turnpike with an entire slew of cars behind us, looking like a bloody caravan. No thanks. I don't mind that they're coming, it is Carinne's birthday after all, but right now, more than ever, I wish I could take a vacation away from my family. Go to Mexico with my friends. If I had the money, I would definitely want to. Anyone want to pay the way for a girl to go to Mexico? Anyone? At all? Oh well, it was worth a shot.
You're probably wondering how Spanish class fits into all of this, hmm? Oh, it's good stuff. Well, because my father felt generous, actually he probably wanted to miss the traffic, he offered to get us out of school at noon. Now, the rest of the paragraph goes with the 'fortuanetly' 'unfortunately' book that everyone reads in second grade. Fortunately, I'm in Spanish at noon. Unfortunately, one of my brothers is in-between classes at noon and the other is in lunch. My dad said that he would pick them up first and me last. I told him to pick me up early, at 11:30 and I can go pick them up at the end of the period. Oh no. That would be the smart thing to do. The rest of the conversation gets very angry and ends with, "I've made my decision and that's final. If you want to argue anymore, Alex, I will only get angry."
"FINE! Fine! Make me miserable! Make me miss the only three classes I actually like! Make me suffer through the hellish class dubbed 'Spanish Four.' " (Ok, so I improvised here, but you get the picture.)
"If you want to go to those classes so much you can have a whole day and stay home for the weekend!" If I was intelligent, I would have said fine and proceeded to have a party after all had left. But, as all of you know, I am not smart. The thrilling idea didn't occur to me until I was driving Cameron to swimming, but I wish I was just a bit quicker. Like 45 minutes quicker.
So that is my tirade against Spanish, Ms. Isreal, and my father. But, oh no! The whining continues! It's like one of those bad movies, it just won't end. Anyways....
My little brother, the angel, as most of the world sees him, is a crapface. And that's being nice. He did not want to go to swim practice so badly that he would not drop it until I flipped out and started yelling. This is after the Spanish incident, of course. So my blood pressure is high enough anyways, add a whiney 12 year old who has the world at their beck and call. (Older siblings, don't the youngest ones on your nerves? Youngest ones, don't piss off the older ones, they will eventually get payback...somehow. Remember, our older brains can think of payback in ways you can't fathom. Ok, so we try but then you tell on us and we get in trouble again. Middle children, get out while you still can. You never win. Beleive me, I know. You're not their first baby, nor their last baby, you're just baby. And that's not good.) Then he called my parents so he could get his way. Wonderful.
Gah. I know reading about someone bitching is not so fun, but I had to get this out and all of my friends know how angry I am. Maybe anger management might be a good idea....I already tried screaming into a pillow. No result except my throat hurts. If you have any good suggestions on releasing my-family-is-driving-me-up-the-wall anger, please need a comment. And anything short of a long vacation to Aruba, I will be willing to try.
So until next time, I'll hopefully figure out how to put some pictures of my beautiful new car (which I'm already grounded from, cringe) and maybe this weekend. I just need to figure out how.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
No title fits this
So. This is not another one of those weird Alex's Life days. It's not at all amusing, but it's true. There's no other way than to just spit it out and state what happened. If you're not a fan of bad things happening, then I'd advise against reading this. Also, if it seems like I'm whining, I truely don't mean to, it's just really hard not to.
So, on with the show. Saturday morning, I was planning to go running with my friend Kelly around Hartwood Acres. If you remember, it was rainy and shitty out yesterday. It was damp and slippery, and all the leaves falling off the trees just makes it worse, especially when you're going around bends.
Well, I was on my merry way, singing along to the radio, driving along Butler Plank Rd, when I noticed that I was too close to the guard rail. I did the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life. I jerked the wheel. I can't tell you how many times my parents have told me that jerking the wheel is the absolute worst thing you could do, just easily move the wheel over. Well, if you jerk the wheel, it's slippery out and you're going around a bend, you will lose control of your car. I did. My car went headfirst into a telephone pole. The hood is bent, the airbags popped, the front grate fell off; I totaled my car.
Right after I jerked the wheel I knew it was coming. I started screaming like there was no tomorrow, and I could see that damn solid telephone pole straight in front of me, and knew I couldn't get away. It's a horrible feeling knowing that you're going into something that could hurt you really bad; you know the outcome when wood is against metal, and wood always wins. After the initial hit, I didn't feel anything. I think I went into shock. The impact of the crash didn't hurt at all, neither did the seatbelt when it dug into my neck and left a burn. I've heard that the airbags can do some serious damage, but I didn't feel anything. The first thing I actually felt is, "Get the hell out of here!" I ran out, and though it was raining and about 50 degrees, I wasn't cold...or feel the wetness.
It was the worst day of my life. It stunk like bloody hell in there. All the smoke from my ruined engine, the airbags, everything was just surreal. I could say that it was like a movie, but it wasn't. I jumped out of that car like I was on fire, and this man who was working on the Glenshaw Vally Presbyterian Church across the street from where I wrecked, ran over and asked if I was ok. I was crying and freaking out, wondering what in God's name my father was going to do to me, considering how I haven't had my licence for even a year and I've hit someone's car in my school's parking lot in our SUV and totaled my own car. My life was over. A very nice lady also pulled over, while I was calling my dad and offered to call the police for me. Both the lady and the carpender tried to console me and told me that at least I was okay, and that my dad would be happy that I was alive rather than my car(which technically is his car because he paid for it) was totaled.
We got one of those neon orange triangles out of my emergency equipment thing in my trunk to tell people to watch out. Of course, they slowed down and stared at me until I glared back so they jerked their heads away and pretended they weren't staring. Accidents bring out the best people and the biggest jagg-offs.
The police came, and were very nice to me, asked what happened, asked if I was okay. Even though I said I was fine, they called the medics just to be safe. They grabbed my licence and my insurance card (thank God I decided to run back to my room and grab my wallet that day).
My dad finally showed up about 15 minutes after the initial accident, because he was waiting for my neighbor, who is a mechanic to get ready so he could check out the car. It was futile, because my car is dead. I sufficiently killed it. Which my sister says is a good thing because she dispised that car anyways, and someone had to do it.
All in all though, I was incredibly lucky. I wasn't hurt at all, neither was anyone else, excepting the considerable crack I put in the telephone pole. It was very close too. If any of you have driven down Butler Plank, you know where the guardrail stops, there's a telephone pole and...the creek. If I hadn't hit the pole, I would have been in the creek, and possibly flipped over...and we don't need to go into the 'what ifs'.
All I know is that I'm out of a car, but I'm alive. I'd rather be out of a car and just shocked than hurt. I wish I could say that this has been a near-death experience, which it has, which would make me a better person and realize that I need to live life at it's fullest, but I don' t think it has. I'm just the same old Alex and I don't think I've changed at all. But I'm glad I'm not dead.
So, on with the show. Saturday morning, I was planning to go running with my friend Kelly around Hartwood Acres. If you remember, it was rainy and shitty out yesterday. It was damp and slippery, and all the leaves falling off the trees just makes it worse, especially when you're going around bends.
Well, I was on my merry way, singing along to the radio, driving along Butler Plank Rd, when I noticed that I was too close to the guard rail. I did the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life. I jerked the wheel. I can't tell you how many times my parents have told me that jerking the wheel is the absolute worst thing you could do, just easily move the wheel over. Well, if you jerk the wheel, it's slippery out and you're going around a bend, you will lose control of your car. I did. My car went headfirst into a telephone pole. The hood is bent, the airbags popped, the front grate fell off; I totaled my car.
Right after I jerked the wheel I knew it was coming. I started screaming like there was no tomorrow, and I could see that damn solid telephone pole straight in front of me, and knew I couldn't get away. It's a horrible feeling knowing that you're going into something that could hurt you really bad; you know the outcome when wood is against metal, and wood always wins. After the initial hit, I didn't feel anything. I think I went into shock. The impact of the crash didn't hurt at all, neither did the seatbelt when it dug into my neck and left a burn. I've heard that the airbags can do some serious damage, but I didn't feel anything. The first thing I actually felt is, "Get the hell out of here!" I ran out, and though it was raining and about 50 degrees, I wasn't cold...or feel the wetness.
It was the worst day of my life. It stunk like bloody hell in there. All the smoke from my ruined engine, the airbags, everything was just surreal. I could say that it was like a movie, but it wasn't. I jumped out of that car like I was on fire, and this man who was working on the Glenshaw Vally Presbyterian Church across the street from where I wrecked, ran over and asked if I was ok. I was crying and freaking out, wondering what in God's name my father was going to do to me, considering how I haven't had my licence for even a year and I've hit someone's car in my school's parking lot in our SUV and totaled my own car. My life was over. A very nice lady also pulled over, while I was calling my dad and offered to call the police for me. Both the lady and the carpender tried to console me and told me that at least I was okay, and that my dad would be happy that I was alive rather than my car(which technically is his car because he paid for it) was totaled.
We got one of those neon orange triangles out of my emergency equipment thing in my trunk to tell people to watch out. Of course, they slowed down and stared at me until I glared back so they jerked their heads away and pretended they weren't staring. Accidents bring out the best people and the biggest jagg-offs.
The police came, and were very nice to me, asked what happened, asked if I was okay. Even though I said I was fine, they called the medics just to be safe. They grabbed my licence and my insurance card (thank God I decided to run back to my room and grab my wallet that day).
My dad finally showed up about 15 minutes after the initial accident, because he was waiting for my neighbor, who is a mechanic to get ready so he could check out the car. It was futile, because my car is dead. I sufficiently killed it. Which my sister says is a good thing because she dispised that car anyways, and someone had to do it.
All in all though, I was incredibly lucky. I wasn't hurt at all, neither was anyone else, excepting the considerable crack I put in the telephone pole. It was very close too. If any of you have driven down Butler Plank, you know where the guardrail stops, there's a telephone pole and...the creek. If I hadn't hit the pole, I would have been in the creek, and possibly flipped over...and we don't need to go into the 'what ifs'.
All I know is that I'm out of a car, but I'm alive. I'd rather be out of a car and just shocked than hurt. I wish I could say that this has been a near-death experience, which it has, which would make me a better person and realize that I need to live life at it's fullest, but I don' t think it has. I'm just the same old Alex and I don't think I've changed at all. But I'm glad I'm not dead.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Devil shoes
Today's story is one of those I-can't-beleive-I'm-her-friend-why-did-I-decide-that-she-seemed-normal posts. Oh get ready, it's fun stuff.
So. This morning, I woke up at the standard, six AM. I was getting ready to do the standard, a boring tee-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. But no. I decide that I need to be preppy, I guess the word is, yank on the pink and white shirt with my black 'wink wink' shirt and a skirt. But, if you've ever talked to me ever, you'd know that I'm a shoe girl. I love new shoes, buying shoes, wearing high heels, envying over other people's shoes that I want, stealing my mothers really awesome high heels (my mom's over 40, she should be wearing sensible beige colored pumps with a small heel, but no. She wears the beastliest shoes known since Sex and the City, so I steal them...and give them back without her knowledge before she comes home from work hee hee), the whole nine yards. In a nutshell, I love shoes. So to make my outfit perfect, I threw on my 4.5-5 inch, blue, pointy-toed (which I was told a fancy word for them, but I can't remember what it was), slightly too big so my foot was sliding in and out the whole day shoes. I thought they were pretty dandy, and they just made the outfit. I was slightly more than a bit happy with my outfit, the hair and makeup are a different story; one, for the sake of causing mass fright, I shan't mention here, but if you go to Shaler, you've seen me and...well, let's just leave it at that.
So I get to school and nothing worth mentioning happens until right before second period, I had a double Physics (groan, Piv for 80 minutes followed by Zyhowski. Puke, puke, puke) and in-between periods, me and a friend were going to get some food because I was pretty darn hungry. Whenever I was sitting down, I would yank off my shoes and just go barefoot in the class. I never participate or move out of my seat so it doesn't matter really. But anyways, we basically needed to leave as the bell was ringing so we'd be back on time, not that it would matter, because Piv doesn't really care if we're late. But anyways, I was whining about getting my shoes back on because my feet were basically aching by then and then I had the brilliant idea: I just wouldn't put them on.
"EWWW! How GROSS! This floor is NASTY! Why would you want to do that?!?!"
"Have you ever worn shoes like this? No. I'm the crapface who thought it was okay, so I'll just carry my shoes and put them on when we get to the Titan Shop."
Walking there passed without incident until, "Where are your shoes?" I turned around to see some teacher giving me the highschoolers-are-discusting look.
"Right here." I raise my hand to show her Satan's shoes.
"Oh, I thought that you just decided not to wear shoes today. You do know that guys spit on the floor-right?"
"Yes, but I also know that my feet have never hurt so bad. So I would rather not wear shoes and walk on a dirty floor. I shower, it's okay." She gave me one of those weird searching looks, just to see if I was mocking her I think, and walked away.
So that was weird. Then I got to European History and someone said how cute my shoes were. My response? "They hurt sooo bad."
"They're cute though."
"I knooow, but they huuurt." I whined like a six-year-old wanting candy. Thankfully, they thought it was funny, and laughed rather than giving me weird looks.
By the time ninth period rolled around, I was limping like I couldn't feel my right leg, and stomping like I was out to kill each and every bug that would be so unfortunate to come underneath my beast of a heel. Thankfully, it was Chorus, and they have carpet in there and everyone with painful shoes take them off anyways, so I was saved...until the final bell rung.
I decided by that point, my feet were damaged enough anyways, so I took them off and started walking down the hall. I would have skipped except that skipping and mini-skirts don't mix.
This is the only pair of shoes that I can honestly say that if they 'accidentally' got thrown into my fireplace and burned, I wouldn't cry. Every other shoe, open the floodgates. I would throw them out, but I have a thing for shoes. Will I ever wear these again? Nooo. Should I throw them out? Yes. Will I? Noo. Why? Because I can't. I bought them, I'm keeping them until forced to be parted with them. Yes, that is how attached I am to Satan's shoes. Or all shoes for that matter.
But other than that, I've been in a super-Christmasy mood, watching Home Alone 2 yesterday and this morning (I used to be convinced I'd marry Mcally Calkin someday...then he got gross and greasy and wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole.) and currently have "It's beginning to look alot like Christmas" stuck in my head, which I just belted out for the whole neighborhood to hear while I was taking my dog outside. But it's not Christmas for another few months and there aren't any good Halloween songs (excepting the Nightmare Before Christmas songs) so might as well make the best of it!
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me. Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight...
So. This morning, I woke up at the standard, six AM. I was getting ready to do the standard, a boring tee-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. But no. I decide that I need to be preppy, I guess the word is, yank on the pink and white shirt with my black 'wink wink' shirt and a skirt. But, if you've ever talked to me ever, you'd know that I'm a shoe girl. I love new shoes, buying shoes, wearing high heels, envying over other people's shoes that I want, stealing my mothers really awesome high heels (my mom's over 40, she should be wearing sensible beige colored pumps with a small heel, but no. She wears the beastliest shoes known since Sex and the City, so I steal them...and give them back without her knowledge before she comes home from work hee hee), the whole nine yards. In a nutshell, I love shoes. So to make my outfit perfect, I threw on my 4.5-5 inch, blue, pointy-toed (which I was told a fancy word for them, but I can't remember what it was), slightly too big so my foot was sliding in and out the whole day shoes. I thought they were pretty dandy, and they just made the outfit. I was slightly more than a bit happy with my outfit, the hair and makeup are a different story; one, for the sake of causing mass fright, I shan't mention here, but if you go to Shaler, you've seen me and...well, let's just leave it at that.
So I get to school and nothing worth mentioning happens until right before second period, I had a double Physics (groan, Piv for 80 minutes followed by Zyhowski. Puke, puke, puke) and in-between periods, me and a friend were going to get some food because I was pretty darn hungry. Whenever I was sitting down, I would yank off my shoes and just go barefoot in the class. I never participate or move out of my seat so it doesn't matter really. But anyways, we basically needed to leave as the bell was ringing so we'd be back on time, not that it would matter, because Piv doesn't really care if we're late. But anyways, I was whining about getting my shoes back on because my feet were basically aching by then and then I had the brilliant idea: I just wouldn't put them on.
"EWWW! How GROSS! This floor is NASTY! Why would you want to do that?!?!"
"Have you ever worn shoes like this? No. I'm the crapface who thought it was okay, so I'll just carry my shoes and put them on when we get to the Titan Shop."
Walking there passed without incident until, "Where are your shoes?" I turned around to see some teacher giving me the highschoolers-are-discusting look.
"Right here." I raise my hand to show her Satan's shoes.
"Oh, I thought that you just decided not to wear shoes today. You do know that guys spit on the floor-right?"
"Yes, but I also know that my feet have never hurt so bad. So I would rather not wear shoes and walk on a dirty floor. I shower, it's okay." She gave me one of those weird searching looks, just to see if I was mocking her I think, and walked away.
So that was weird. Then I got to European History and someone said how cute my shoes were. My response? "They hurt sooo bad."
"They're cute though."
"I knooow, but they huuurt." I whined like a six-year-old wanting candy. Thankfully, they thought it was funny, and laughed rather than giving me weird looks.
By the time ninth period rolled around, I was limping like I couldn't feel my right leg, and stomping like I was out to kill each and every bug that would be so unfortunate to come underneath my beast of a heel. Thankfully, it was Chorus, and they have carpet in there and everyone with painful shoes take them off anyways, so I was saved...until the final bell rung.
I decided by that point, my feet were damaged enough anyways, so I took them off and started walking down the hall. I would have skipped except that skipping and mini-skirts don't mix.
This is the only pair of shoes that I can honestly say that if they 'accidentally' got thrown into my fireplace and burned, I wouldn't cry. Every other shoe, open the floodgates. I would throw them out, but I have a thing for shoes. Will I ever wear these again? Nooo. Should I throw them out? Yes. Will I? Noo. Why? Because I can't. I bought them, I'm keeping them until forced to be parted with them. Yes, that is how attached I am to Satan's shoes. Or all shoes for that matter.
But other than that, I've been in a super-Christmasy mood, watching Home Alone 2 yesterday and this morning (I used to be convinced I'd marry Mcally Calkin someday...then he got gross and greasy and wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole.) and currently have "It's beginning to look alot like Christmas" stuck in my head, which I just belted out for the whole neighborhood to hear while I was taking my dog outside. But it's not Christmas for another few months and there aren't any good Halloween songs (excepting the Nightmare Before Christmas songs) so might as well make the best of it!
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me. Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight...
Monday, October 10, 2005
Fall festivities
So my sister and her boyfriend came home for the weekend. Carinne had a whole plan for the weekend, including just about everything-from going to the Homecoming parade, visiting family, going shopping, and more. Let me tell you this: my sister was more excited to go to the parade than anything I'd ever seen before; my sister is band dork through and through. She told me that her and her friend already planned what instruments their kids will play what seat they'll be to if they become drum major or not. For that, I told her that my children are forbidden to play instruments.
But anyways, yesterday I woke up to my sister yelling that we were going to play pinocle and I had to wake up and play. Yee-haw. Actually, pinocle is a great game, definitely better than any other card game, mainly because you don't have to be a good lier to be good at it, but after me and my sister successfully beat the old folks (the parentals) twice, Carinne informed us that we were going to a corn maze. It turns out that it takes a good two hours to get seven people ready...just to go to one of those lame fall festivals. But finally we got out there, after a good half hour of me cramped next to my little brothers, one of which is not nearly so 'little' anymore. He's taller than me, and thats without the good four inches of hair, and he is one of those guys who beleives that his legs should be open all the way, the whole way, all the time. In a tiny car that we drove (why use the SUV with the room when we have my dad's little car that we can cram everyone in-yay!). So I'm in there completely smushed until I decide to be the horrible sister and tell him that if he doesn't close his legs and move over I will throw my little brother (who was sitting in between us) at him. Which started an entire fight which ended with my parents freaking out and me throwing on the headphones and blasting Fallout Boy at top volume and glaring out the window.
So we get there, and we were going to have a race: whoever can get out first...um, wins. Carinne's friend, Ellen, was suppossed to come but couldn't at the last minute so the even number (we were going to split up in groups of two) was completely screwed. So we had two groups of two and a group of three. We did the boring, pick a paper out of the hat and it ended up with Carinne and Dad, my mom and both my brothers, and I was with Dan, Carinne's boyfriend. For some reason, I don't think he likes me. I don't know why, I just don't. For one reason, he goes, "AWWW! I'm with Alex?!? Cam, switch me!" I know he was just kidding and that I have never won anything ever...but jeez-oh-man the ego is definitely down. But anyways, so we go in the corn maze, and I don't think I've ever seen Carinne so excited. She litterally sprinted in the maze yelling, "DAD! DAD!! Let's GO old man! Hurry yo' lazy butt up!" and ran in.
Me and Dan went in next, not nearly so thrilled, just walking. About 20 seconds in I hear, "I caught up to you!!!! " My little brother, Nate, apparently sprinted in just so he could catch up to us. "Can we pass you guys? "
"No."
"Aw, come oooon! You guys are soo slow."
"Bite me."
"Run, Dad, RUN! I can hear them! They're catching UP to US!!! WE'RE GOING TO LOSE!" I look up and I can see my father's head running down a path somewhere in front of us.
We get out of the 'maze,' if you want to call it that, because it was more of the cornhusk path than actual maze. You had no decisions, you just followed the path. But anyways, we got out of the maze, and Carinne was standing there, hands on her hips going, "Well, that sucked. MY high expectations was ruined. You didn't have to decide anything! You just followed it. I'm very dissapointed. It was a complete turn-around from the Carinne who was yelling at my dad only minutes ago to hurry his sorry butt up.
After that, there wasn't much else to do. Those fall festivals were only for like age 6 and under, and none of us were that. We did buy two bags of freshly-made kettle corn and that was, most definitely the best kettle corn ever. I'm eating some right now. Yum.
I wish this post was more interesting, because I know it's not, and it's not really all that funny either, so sorry, but I have so much homework to do, and there'll be something more entertaining all the way because the weirdest things immaginable happen to me, and if nothing does, well, that's when my good storytelling comes in (some call it lying, I call it storytelling).
So root for the Steelers tonight, plot to kill off European History forever and ask yourself why you got fake nails on because they're a mother to type with (this post took a half hour to write-and it's a short one! It should have taken 15 minutes...Oh, what I do to have pretty fingernails...)
So until next time, you're corn mazing, still European History hating, very very lame short girl. (Good God, I think that's my like title. I need a new one.)
P.S. If I made some spelling mistakes, sorry, my spell check thing won't work, which is why the last entry was so bad...oops! I need an editor...
But anyways, yesterday I woke up to my sister yelling that we were going to play pinocle and I had to wake up and play. Yee-haw. Actually, pinocle is a great game, definitely better than any other card game, mainly because you don't have to be a good lier to be good at it, but after me and my sister successfully beat the old folks (the parentals) twice, Carinne informed us that we were going to a corn maze. It turns out that it takes a good two hours to get seven people ready...just to go to one of those lame fall festivals. But finally we got out there, after a good half hour of me cramped next to my little brothers, one of which is not nearly so 'little' anymore. He's taller than me, and thats without the good four inches of hair, and he is one of those guys who beleives that his legs should be open all the way, the whole way, all the time. In a tiny car that we drove (why use the SUV with the room when we have my dad's little car that we can cram everyone in-yay!). So I'm in there completely smushed until I decide to be the horrible sister and tell him that if he doesn't close his legs and move over I will throw my little brother (who was sitting in between us) at him. Which started an entire fight which ended with my parents freaking out and me throwing on the headphones and blasting Fallout Boy at top volume and glaring out the window.
So we get there, and we were going to have a race: whoever can get out first...um, wins. Carinne's friend, Ellen, was suppossed to come but couldn't at the last minute so the even number (we were going to split up in groups of two) was completely screwed. So we had two groups of two and a group of three. We did the boring, pick a paper out of the hat and it ended up with Carinne and Dad, my mom and both my brothers, and I was with Dan, Carinne's boyfriend. For some reason, I don't think he likes me. I don't know why, I just don't. For one reason, he goes, "AWWW! I'm with Alex?!? Cam, switch me!" I know he was just kidding and that I have never won anything ever...but jeez-oh-man the ego is definitely down. But anyways, so we go in the corn maze, and I don't think I've ever seen Carinne so excited. She litterally sprinted in the maze yelling, "DAD! DAD!! Let's GO old man! Hurry yo' lazy butt up!" and ran in.
Me and Dan went in next, not nearly so thrilled, just walking. About 20 seconds in I hear, "I caught up to you!!!! " My little brother, Nate, apparently sprinted in just so he could catch up to us. "Can we pass you guys? "
"No."
"Aw, come oooon! You guys are soo slow."
"Bite me."
"Run, Dad, RUN! I can hear them! They're catching UP to US!!! WE'RE GOING TO LOSE!" I look up and I can see my father's head running down a path somewhere in front of us.
We get out of the 'maze,' if you want to call it that, because it was more of the cornhusk path than actual maze. You had no decisions, you just followed the path. But anyways, we got out of the maze, and Carinne was standing there, hands on her hips going, "Well, that sucked. MY high expectations was ruined. You didn't have to decide anything! You just followed it. I'm very dissapointed. It was a complete turn-around from the Carinne who was yelling at my dad only minutes ago to hurry his sorry butt up.
After that, there wasn't much else to do. Those fall festivals were only for like age 6 and under, and none of us were that. We did buy two bags of freshly-made kettle corn and that was, most definitely the best kettle corn ever. I'm eating some right now. Yum.
I wish this post was more interesting, because I know it's not, and it's not really all that funny either, so sorry, but I have so much homework to do, and there'll be something more entertaining all the way because the weirdest things immaginable happen to me, and if nothing does, well, that's when my good storytelling comes in (some call it lying, I call it storytelling).
So root for the Steelers tonight, plot to kill off European History forever and ask yourself why you got fake nails on because they're a mother to type with (this post took a half hour to write-and it's a short one! It should have taken 15 minutes...Oh, what I do to have pretty fingernails...)
So until next time, you're corn mazing, still European History hating, very very lame short girl. (Good God, I think that's my like title. I need a new one.)
P.S. If I made some spelling mistakes, sorry, my spell check thing won't work, which is why the last entry was so bad...oops! I need an editor...
Thursday, October 06, 2005
PetCo'R'Us
Ok, so this morning, as I was doing the morning ritual of which shoe should I wear that will make this outfit, my mother walks in. "Alex, we need you to go to PetCo. For a plant."
"Mum? PetCo's for, um, pets. As the name implies." I figured that she didn't get the allotted eight hours of sleep recommended by all and every health teacher.
"Well I know that! We need a plant to go on top of Oscar's fish tank." We have two beta fish, who I really think hate me because one of my favorite pastimes when we got them was to stick my fat mug up next to their bowls and stare at them. They'd get pretty freaked out and blow out their fins and puff up like a blowfish, which was quite amusing to a 14-year-old.
So, after school, I headed over to PetCo because I'm a good person, and my dad gave me $20 and told me that I could put the change for gas for my car instead of giving it back. Pretty awesome but really unusual, I just figure it's because today's my parents' anniversary (21 years, holy crap!) and he's feeling generous today. Or because he knew the chances of me giving the change back were slim to none anyways.
Back on track now, I get to PetCo, and I don't know if it's because I'm a huge pet-lover or what, but I walked in there like a kid in a candy store. Don't ask me why, it's just one of my little peculiarities that you have to deal with if you want to be my friend. I don't know what it is about pet stores, but I love it. God help me when I buy my requisite dog after I get my own place. Whatever money isn't spent on clothes and shoes, will be spent on my dog. Who cares about bills? They're overrated.
Anyways, I'm wandering around, acting like I'm 12, looking at anything and everything like I've never seen it before. I stared at the little cage of kittens until the little black one started staring at me, and I left. Finally, I get around to actually asking about what I came in there for. The plant-thing. So I go over to the person in the fish section, but, unfortunately, she's helping out this woman who cannot decide what fish to buy. Now, I'm not one to judge, Lord knows I'm horrible at decisions, but she spent 20 minutes deciding between two fish. Two. I nearly died. So, I finally get my plant. It took a good 30 seconds and I get in line.
Who's in front of me? Fish Woman and the Wee Ones. Now, for reasons I do not understand, the littlest one grabbed like a container of dog treats that were in a cylinder thing and went over to the Dog Bar thing, grabs a dog treat and starts smashing it was the dog cylinder. Her mother casually calls, "Honey, come on back over here! We're getting ready to leave!"
"No!" the little beast yells back. "I want to pound things." Now my shocked face has changed into one of those badly disguised cough-laughs. The poor man at the register either had selective hearing or was simply ignoring the little monster 'pounding' what he was supposed to be selling. Obviously the mother didn't care because they left soon after without her saying a word. Weird people in these here parts.
So, I got out of there, unscathed and was waiting for the light to turn green to turn on McKnight. McKnight at 5:00 is a fearsome thing. It was one of 'those' driving days, when everyone does something wrong and you're always stuck behind the old bitty with blue hair who believes that anything going over 15 MPH is un-Godly, you know those days. I was at the light next to Staples and Kohl's when after waiting for a good five minutes for the light to turn green, it finally does. A good three or four cars go and this old man from the lane to the right of me, who had a red light for some time, cut off the car in front of me. He just decided to go. I thought it was hilarious because this man must have been 80 years old and he's probably a few marbles short of a whole set. The car in front of me didn't see it quite the same way. He honked and flicked the bird, which made me laugh harder. I think I have issues. Then I was behind one of those 15 MPH old women. I was just turning on Seibert, and I thought maybe she drove a stick and needed to change gears. By the time we were next to that private school and she hadn't gone any faster, I realized she wasn't going to. And the crappy red mini-van behind me was tailgating me like it was my problem. How very annoying. Exciting day, hmm?
Well, this weekend is the either highly anticipated Homecoming. Everyone with a date looks foreword to it, everyone without it has to stand listening to everyone talk about their plans and their dresses and feel left out. I fall into column two of this weekend. Don't go around pitying me, because I did get a date, but stuff happens and I found myself dateless. Am I bitter? Well I was, but then I realized what would I rather do: dance my life night away listening to rap music to which I don't know the words and cheesy pop music to which I also don't know the words while screaming, "Oh my GOD! You look FABULOUS!" and "WHAT?...WHAT?...Oh...haaahaa...I SAID HAHAHAHA!!!...OH NEVERMIND!" or spend some quality time with my DVD player and some very high sugar foods? Plus, my dancing could use some work too. But my little brother's going to his first Homecoming ever. He's in eighth grade and he's going stag. One of the very few guys who will ever do that, and more power to him.
So I'm going to enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, doing very little. But I'm not upset-tomorrow's my first payday. I haven't gotten a paycheck for an entire month, and it's taking serious will power not to go shopping because I have no money. Also the older sister and the boyfriend are coming home for the weekend and I haven't seen them for a while so it'll be exciting. Actually, I think my sister is more excited to see my dog than me, and Dan could care less. But he's a Physics major and I happen to be doing not so well in that class, so he gets to listen to me jabber on about everything I hate about that class...Oh, what fun this shall be...Just kidding, I wouldn't do that!
But, I probably won't post for a few days simply because I have nothing to talk about, so have fun to all going to Homecoming, woot woot for all the floats that I don't enough school spirit to help out with, and yee-haw to everyone who's brave enough to face the freezing weather in those convertibles, driving down Mt. Royal, pretending like they're enjoying yourself.
So Happy Homecoming to all, and to all a good night!
"Mum? PetCo's for, um, pets. As the name implies." I figured that she didn't get the allotted eight hours of sleep recommended by all and every health teacher.
"Well I know that! We need a plant to go on top of Oscar's fish tank." We have two beta fish, who I really think hate me because one of my favorite pastimes when we got them was to stick my fat mug up next to their bowls and stare at them. They'd get pretty freaked out and blow out their fins and puff up like a blowfish, which was quite amusing to a 14-year-old.
So, after school, I headed over to PetCo because I'm a good person, and my dad gave me $20 and told me that I could put the change for gas for my car instead of giving it back. Pretty awesome but really unusual, I just figure it's because today's my parents' anniversary (21 years, holy crap!) and he's feeling generous today. Or because he knew the chances of me giving the change back were slim to none anyways.
Back on track now, I get to PetCo, and I don't know if it's because I'm a huge pet-lover or what, but I walked in there like a kid in a candy store. Don't ask me why, it's just one of my little peculiarities that you have to deal with if you want to be my friend. I don't know what it is about pet stores, but I love it. God help me when I buy my requisite dog after I get my own place. Whatever money isn't spent on clothes and shoes, will be spent on my dog. Who cares about bills? They're overrated.
Anyways, I'm wandering around, acting like I'm 12, looking at anything and everything like I've never seen it before. I stared at the little cage of kittens until the little black one started staring at me, and I left. Finally, I get around to actually asking about what I came in there for. The plant-thing. So I go over to the person in the fish section, but, unfortunately, she's helping out this woman who cannot decide what fish to buy. Now, I'm not one to judge, Lord knows I'm horrible at decisions, but she spent 20 minutes deciding between two fish. Two. I nearly died. So, I finally get my plant. It took a good 30 seconds and I get in line.
Who's in front of me? Fish Woman and the Wee Ones. Now, for reasons I do not understand, the littlest one grabbed like a container of dog treats that were in a cylinder thing and went over to the Dog Bar thing, grabs a dog treat and starts smashing it was the dog cylinder. Her mother casually calls, "Honey, come on back over here! We're getting ready to leave!"
"No!" the little beast yells back. "I want to pound things." Now my shocked face has changed into one of those badly disguised cough-laughs. The poor man at the register either had selective hearing or was simply ignoring the little monster 'pounding' what he was supposed to be selling. Obviously the mother didn't care because they left soon after without her saying a word. Weird people in these here parts.
So, I got out of there, unscathed and was waiting for the light to turn green to turn on McKnight. McKnight at 5:00 is a fearsome thing. It was one of 'those' driving days, when everyone does something wrong and you're always stuck behind the old bitty with blue hair who believes that anything going over 15 MPH is un-Godly, you know those days. I was at the light next to Staples and Kohl's when after waiting for a good five minutes for the light to turn green, it finally does. A good three or four cars go and this old man from the lane to the right of me, who had a red light for some time, cut off the car in front of me. He just decided to go. I thought it was hilarious because this man must have been 80 years old and he's probably a few marbles short of a whole set. The car in front of me didn't see it quite the same way. He honked and flicked the bird, which made me laugh harder. I think I have issues. Then I was behind one of those 15 MPH old women. I was just turning on Seibert, and I thought maybe she drove a stick and needed to change gears. By the time we were next to that private school and she hadn't gone any faster, I realized she wasn't going to. And the crappy red mini-van behind me was tailgating me like it was my problem. How very annoying. Exciting day, hmm?
Well, this weekend is the either highly anticipated Homecoming. Everyone with a date looks foreword to it, everyone without it has to stand listening to everyone talk about their plans and their dresses and feel left out. I fall into column two of this weekend. Don't go around pitying me, because I did get a date, but stuff happens and I found myself dateless. Am I bitter? Well I was, but then I realized what would I rather do: dance my life night away listening to rap music to which I don't know the words and cheesy pop music to which I also don't know the words while screaming, "Oh my GOD! You look FABULOUS!" and "WHAT?...WHAT?...Oh...haaahaa...I SAID HAHAHAHA!!!...OH NEVERMIND!" or spend some quality time with my DVD player and some very high sugar foods? Plus, my dancing could use some work too. But my little brother's going to his first Homecoming ever. He's in eighth grade and he's going stag. One of the very few guys who will ever do that, and more power to him.
So I'm going to enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, doing very little. But I'm not upset-tomorrow's my first payday. I haven't gotten a paycheck for an entire month, and it's taking serious will power not to go shopping because I have no money. Also the older sister and the boyfriend are coming home for the weekend and I haven't seen them for a while so it'll be exciting. Actually, I think my sister is more excited to see my dog than me, and Dan could care less. But he's a Physics major and I happen to be doing not so well in that class, so he gets to listen to me jabber on about everything I hate about that class...Oh, what fun this shall be...Just kidding, I wouldn't do that!
But, I probably won't post for a few days simply because I have nothing to talk about, so have fun to all going to Homecoming, woot woot for all the floats that I don't enough school spirit to help out with, and yee-haw to everyone who's brave enough to face the freezing weather in those convertibles, driving down Mt. Royal, pretending like they're enjoying yourself.
So Happy Homecoming to all, and to all a good night!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Running is suchs a fun thing
So, my writers' block has been officially killed. Woot. Now for the story of the day. Yee-haw.
I decided that running was the thing to do today. The last time I went running was a good two weeks ago. I have all these hilly back streets near where I live so I normally go "running" there. Running, for me, is aka run all the down slopes, run a good half-way up the up-hill slopes (if I'm feeling especially overacheiving, I'll run the whole hill, it's fun stuff) and jog slowly for some of the flat, huffing and puffing like I'm the big bad wolf. The rest, aka most of it, I walk. Slowly. Like I'm walking along in the mall, and that soccer mom in the mini-van full of kids isn't behind me, honking. My walkman is a wonderful thing. I turn an astonishing color of red, which is why I never get honked at when running. Yes, everyone, I look an amazing balloon hopping along, having a grand old time. The color is another reason why I run along the back streets, I firmly believe that the public should not be subject to such things as me lumbering along, pretending I'm in shape. Also, the only times when I seem to feel like running is when its at least 80 degrees outside, so I get really dehydrated and am generally glued to a water bottle for the rest of the night.
So, there I was, after running up the hill (yes, I did the whole thing, overacheiving is my thing today) walking away, gasping for air, and I walk past this house where a family is putting up decorations for Halloween. They have a little girl, and she was standing right in the middle of her driveway, staring at me like I was a new toy. She was probably only three years old, and the art of running seemed to mystify her. That made me giggle, which is always a fun thing to do. Then, I started running again, and passed a house where they have a dog, who was chained outside. It started barking at me, which nearly scared the living crap out of me because I was humming along to a Fall Out Boy song (to which I don't know the title because all of them are so long...Go look it up, it is) and that barking dog, set out the one in the house next to it, and the one across the street, and the one next to that...The moral of this story is that I was running down the street with a good four or five dogs simultaneously barking at me. It made me think either I was unwanted or I didn't smell too lovely (it was really hot out there!). Either way, it was sort of weird. But I saved the best for last! Today, it seemed, was National Middle-Aged Shirtless Men Watering Flowers Day. I saw a good eight middle aged men, minus a shirt or at least tank top, for crying out loud, some that were none too skinny watering the flowers. But I figure, if they don't care, more power too them. I could never do that. Most people are grossed out, but most people wouldn't have the guts to do that. It also made me giggle to see all the shirtless middle-aged guys watering the flowers next to the family putting out Halloween decorations. This weather's something, eh? I'm temporarily Canadian.
But I'm in for some good father-daughter bonding time, watching After the Sun Sets, with Bond, James Bond's Peirce Brosnan.
So, until next time, the out-of-shape, AP European History-hating, still short, attempting writing, person who is still emotionally attached to my glass of water for the rest of the night.
I decided that running was the thing to do today. The last time I went running was a good two weeks ago. I have all these hilly back streets near where I live so I normally go "running" there. Running, for me, is aka run all the down slopes, run a good half-way up the up-hill slopes (if I'm feeling especially overacheiving, I'll run the whole hill, it's fun stuff) and jog slowly for some of the flat, huffing and puffing like I'm the big bad wolf. The rest, aka most of it, I walk. Slowly. Like I'm walking along in the mall, and that soccer mom in the mini-van full of kids isn't behind me, honking. My walkman is a wonderful thing. I turn an astonishing color of red, which is why I never get honked at when running. Yes, everyone, I look an amazing balloon hopping along, having a grand old time. The color is another reason why I run along the back streets, I firmly believe that the public should not be subject to such things as me lumbering along, pretending I'm in shape. Also, the only times when I seem to feel like running is when its at least 80 degrees outside, so I get really dehydrated and am generally glued to a water bottle for the rest of the night.
So, there I was, after running up the hill (yes, I did the whole thing, overacheiving is my thing today) walking away, gasping for air, and I walk past this house where a family is putting up decorations for Halloween. They have a little girl, and she was standing right in the middle of her driveway, staring at me like I was a new toy. She was probably only three years old, and the art of running seemed to mystify her. That made me giggle, which is always a fun thing to do. Then, I started running again, and passed a house where they have a dog, who was chained outside. It started barking at me, which nearly scared the living crap out of me because I was humming along to a Fall Out Boy song (to which I don't know the title because all of them are so long...Go look it up, it is) and that barking dog, set out the one in the house next to it, and the one across the street, and the one next to that...The moral of this story is that I was running down the street with a good four or five dogs simultaneously barking at me. It made me think either I was unwanted or I didn't smell too lovely (it was really hot out there!). Either way, it was sort of weird. But I saved the best for last! Today, it seemed, was National Middle-Aged Shirtless Men Watering Flowers Day. I saw a good eight middle aged men, minus a shirt or at least tank top, for crying out loud, some that were none too skinny watering the flowers. But I figure, if they don't care, more power too them. I could never do that. Most people are grossed out, but most people wouldn't have the guts to do that. It also made me giggle to see all the shirtless middle-aged guys watering the flowers next to the family putting out Halloween decorations. This weather's something, eh? I'm temporarily Canadian.
But I'm in for some good father-daughter bonding time, watching After the Sun Sets, with Bond, James Bond's Peirce Brosnan.
So, until next time, the out-of-shape, AP European History-hating, still short, attempting writing, person who is still emotionally attached to my glass of water for the rest of the night.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum
Ok, so firstly, when I can't think of a title that pertains to what I'm talking about, I make something up. For example, today's title. It's a common thing, especially if I'm jumping around talking about everything to make something up. I do it all the time in e-mails. I think my favorite one of all time though was 'Chunky-dunks and Olympian chocolate cakes.' That was an e-mail title. Was I talking about either? Psh, no. But they saw the title and read it right away, which, in essence, is the meaning of an e-mail right?
So, now that that's all straightened out, on to today's topic, or for today, topics. So as an elective, I took Sociology. I wanted Word Power, but it was all taken, so I figured I could learn about everyone's personality dysfunctions, and tell them that they're screwed up. Jolly good fun. Turns out, if you want to analyze your friends, that's what Psychology, the study of individuals, is for. Not Sociology, the study of culture. Oops. But, I'm in it, and I've got to suck it up and deal. On most days, it's boring as all-get-out(which I really don't know what it means, but it's something about how bad it is) but today was an exception.
We're learning about culture, and how certain symbols mean something to a certain culture and nothing to another one. We got a paper with all the faces from AIM...And a few extras. Here's a few of my favorites:
%-} I think I've had too much to drink.
- : ( Somebody cut my hair into a Mohawk.
And, my personal favorite (if you haven't seen my profile):
+O:-) I've just been elected pope!
Oh, that's entertaining. I saw that and laughed non-stop for the rest of the period. Then, for the rest of the day, I went up to all my friends, demanded paper, and told them that I've just been elected pope along with my smiling face (it took me until the end of the day to realize that technically, if I've been elected pope, that little face is me. Weird stuff)...Or if they had no paper, I wrote it on a few arms as well. I'm just entertained too freaking easily....
Then, right after that class, I went to European History. Normally that class isn't horrible, but it's definitely not my favorite one. But today, we were learning about King Henry VIII. You all know him, six wives? Off with her head? Mhmm, him. If I wasn't very un-ghetto, I'd call him a pimp, but I'm short and Irish, I just can't go around talking like that. I'd get beaten up. Anyways, we were all assigned parts, and we had to research them and go in and tell everyone about the person. Well, my class has 13 people in it, so we got to double up. I was his last two wives, and because I was a queen, I got to wear a crown. It would have been more exciting if it wasn't really cheap, so it kept falling off my head, but not everyone got to wear a crown. So that just made my day better!
So, until next time, your---what would I be this time? Crazy title-loving, Sociology-loving, +O:-) I've just been elected pope!-loving, King Henry VIII-loving (is that all of it?) short girl.
And now, Survivor time. Ooh yes. Reality TV and me are TIGHT! Peace! Haahaa, just kidding. Did you really think I could pull that off? Yeah, right...Adios!
So, now that that's all straightened out, on to today's topic, or for today, topics. So as an elective, I took Sociology. I wanted Word Power, but it was all taken, so I figured I could learn about everyone's personality dysfunctions, and tell them that they're screwed up. Jolly good fun. Turns out, if you want to analyze your friends, that's what Psychology, the study of individuals, is for. Not Sociology, the study of culture. Oops. But, I'm in it, and I've got to suck it up and deal. On most days, it's boring as all-get-out(which I really don't know what it means, but it's something about how bad it is) but today was an exception.
We're learning about culture, and how certain symbols mean something to a certain culture and nothing to another one. We got a paper with all the faces from AIM...And a few extras. Here's a few of my favorites:
%-} I think I've had too much to drink.
- : ( Somebody cut my hair into a Mohawk.
And, my personal favorite (if you haven't seen my profile):
+O:-) I've just been elected pope!
Oh, that's entertaining. I saw that and laughed non-stop for the rest of the period. Then, for the rest of the day, I went up to all my friends, demanded paper, and told them that I've just been elected pope along with my smiling face (it took me until the end of the day to realize that technically, if I've been elected pope, that little face is me. Weird stuff)...Or if they had no paper, I wrote it on a few arms as well. I'm just entertained too freaking easily....
Then, right after that class, I went to European History. Normally that class isn't horrible, but it's definitely not my favorite one. But today, we were learning about King Henry VIII. You all know him, six wives? Off with her head? Mhmm, him. If I wasn't very un-ghetto, I'd call him a pimp, but I'm short and Irish, I just can't go around talking like that. I'd get beaten up. Anyways, we were all assigned parts, and we had to research them and go in and tell everyone about the person. Well, my class has 13 people in it, so we got to double up. I was his last two wives, and because I was a queen, I got to wear a crown. It would have been more exciting if it wasn't really cheap, so it kept falling off my head, but not everyone got to wear a crown. So that just made my day better!
So, until next time, your---what would I be this time? Crazy title-loving, Sociology-loving, +O:-) I've just been elected pope!-loving, King Henry VIII-loving (is that all of it?) short girl.
And now, Survivor time. Ooh yes. Reality TV and me are TIGHT! Peace! Haahaa, just kidding. Did you really think I could pull that off? Yeah, right...Adios!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
For every bad day, there's a good day
So Monday was not a good day. I forgot that I had a Physics test on Tuesday, and we were reviewing stuff that I have no idea about. Then I go to Calc and we're doing Trig. Trigonometry, I tell you, is not for the faint-hearted...Or the bad-memory-ed, like moi. Sixth period, Spanish four, eventually rolls around, too. How do I explain what is Spanish four?
Last year, my friend Dustin, constantly made fun of me because I told him I was doing Spanish four. "What are you going to learn? Honestly! And with Shaler teachers, you probably aren't doing the right thing anyways. So why bother taking a pointless class that could be taken up with a perfectly good study hall?" I told him that I was an overacheiver thank-you-very-much, and I was sticking to my guns and toughing out Spanish for one last year. Another fabuloso (Spanish...Oh la, la) decision here, folks! Ms. Israel is the craziest bat in the high school, excepting Zyhowski. Both are entirely too energetic, and one speaks a different language. Now, I whine daily about how much I despise Spanish (it's right before lunch, and I swear the clock stops) and Dustin just sits back and laughs.
Anyways, in Spanish we're learning about artists. Everyday Israel gives a picture from a particular artist and the next day, the kid has to have a five minute report to present-all in Spanish. Now, if we got more than one night's notice, I wouldn't care, but we don't. Guess who got picked for one? And not only one-this picture corresponds with another so I got to do two! Lucky me.
Yesterday was one of those days when I just knew it wasn't going to be good. I just had that feeling, you know? Yesterday I had a call-in for work. I knew the chances of me going in were slim to none, but I just knew that I didn't have the time to go in (five hour shifts people, five hours! From four to nine! That's the whole night!) and that they'd need me. Of course they did!
I wasn't too upset over going in because I need the money like nothing else, and I figure everyone wants to work in a clothes store, it has to be fun, right? Hah. Yesterday was inventory. That's why they needed me. I saw a total of maybe five customers, so it's not like they needed customer service. What I got to do was so much better. I had to go around to every item in the store, and pull the price tag out so it's seen (okay, so it wasn't just me, everyone else was doing it too, but it still sucked.). And then The piles had to be super-neat too. Everyone at Abercrombie has OCD, I swear. The shirts have to be exactly three inches from the edge of the table, the little stickers on the shirts have to be lined up exactly (now who looks at that, honestly?), and here's where it gets really bad: the hangers have to be evenly spaced. What?!?! Who looks at things like this? I'm the messiest person you will ever meet, and this was killing me. I had the nearly irresistible urge to run through the store and just pull everything off the tables, but I didn't because I'm a nice person. After that, I got to go back in the stockroom and count all the tags of everything. They were all in shelves and I had to count a shelf and then write down how many were on that particular shelf. It was tedious, to say the least.
The exciting part of the day was that I got to go home at 7:45 rather than 9 (woo-hoo!) because we had eight people working, and zero customers. They basically said, "We don't need you, go home." So I did.
I spent from the time I got home until about midnight working on my Spanish project. And I still didn't finish it. I'm horrible at Spanish, every other word was looked up in a Spanish translator. I barely got all my other homework done, and just forgot about Physics and went to bed really really late.
Read the post underneath this one because it's all one post, but it was too long so I had to break it up...Oops!
For every bad day, there's a good day con't
Today was a day that everything seemed to go right. I woke up this morning, dead tired, and asked my dad if I could please go back to sleep and skip my first few classes? "Um, what are you first few classes?"
"Physics."
"Don't you have a test in there?"
"Physics."
"Don't you have a test in there?"
"It's more of a quiz, really, and I have a study hall tomorrow..."
"Okay, then." That was just about the greatest thing I ever heard. I collapsed back to sleep, and didn't wake up until 8:30. Yee-haw. I ate breakfast, straightened my hair, got dressed and was out the door at 9:35 (I know it seems like I take forever, but if you had the amount of hair that I do, and to straighten it? It's freaking scary. Before the straightener, I would have fit right in to 1985.).
So I get at school and get to park in the top lot. I was fairly excited with myself. Right when I walk into the building, the bell was ringing for in-between third and fourth period, at 9:42. I go into the attendance office, and give the secretary my note, and she goes, "Well, it's in-between classes, so you shouldn't need a note."
"My locker's like eons away from my fourth period, I would really appreciate it if you gave me a note."
"Well, alright then." She gave me a note that said 9:50 "to give me a few extra minutes." I was so excited. I spent the next eight minutes telling some people about how good of a day it was. It was pretty thrilling.
So sixth period eventually rolls around again, like it always does. I'm dreading it because me and public speaking are not friends. Never had been, never will be, and in another language? You're just asking for me to die. So I sit through two other people's reports, knowing that I, inevitably, will be next.
One of my friends told me to calm down, no one pays attention anyways. The kid in front of me (the shoe commenting kid) goes, "I'm going to pay attention!"
"Why would you do such a horrible thing?" I know I had the I-hate-you look on my face.
"Because then it wouldn't be me if I didn't." I kicked his chair, which turned out to do nothing because he's quite a bit larger than me.
After the kid finishes, my hearts going. I'm all nervous until..."Well, we just don't have time for the rest. We need to do verbs."
I was saved! I was practically dancing and bellowing the Hallelujah Chorus at that point. It was amazing. I was truly convinced that today was We Like Alex Day. It was a good feeling.
Then the Crapface (as I fondly call the kid who sits in front of me) goes, "It's your turn next," with a particular nasty smile.
"No, I don't. She said that I can go tomorrow." [big grin]
"You suck."
"I'm awesome." He tried to think of a comeback, but Israel screamed, "Silencio estudiantes!" and when I say screamed, I mean it literally. Every once in a while, she'll just screech a word, because "it makes you pay attention, and I'm trying to make it fun for you." Just another classic Shaler teacher.
I know this is really long, sorry, but I had to tell you my bad day turned good. So yee-haw for two hours' extra sleep and no Physics and Calculus all around!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Stupid Abercrombie!
Ok, so I know I'm a loser (it's mentioned about every post, everyone should know this by now...) but I was thrilled, thrilled to go to work. I quit the grocery as soon as they said, "Come to orientation." I went to work and quickly informed them that today was my last day. One of the best feelings ever. Especially when I totally ignored their orders and had no fear because what could they do, fire me?
So two Sundays ago, I went to orientation, decked out in Abercrombie head-to-toe...Or, well, I would be if I owned more than two shirts and no pants or shoes from there. I guess I need to get up to scratch on the whole Abercrombie-clothes thing, but I have a discount now, and that should help. So anyways, I go in and they give the average, what to wear, jewelry, being on time, you know the drill. So we all get ready to leave, and someone asks when we'd start work.
"Um, well, they already made the schedule for this week, so just call in and ask for your schedule on Thursday." Well, we all know how that excursion worked out, so let's not go into details.
But, the main thing of the story was that today I had a call-in, aka call and if I'm needed, I go in, if not, bummer. I understand that the chances of me going in on a call-in are slim to none, but I try to remain optimistic, until I find out I'm wrong...And people ask me why I'm a pessimist, about my life anyways...If you're anyone else, I'm optimistic, if you're me, you've got issues.
So I have no idea what to say, and I'm not so excited over the fact that I have to call in because my voice somewhat resembles Minnie Mouse's on the tele. What drives me nuts is when those stupid tele-marketers call and go, "Is your mommy or daddy home little girl?"
I generally yell something along the lines of, "I'm 17 so go screw yourself!" Hanging up, and then feeling bad for being mean to a stranger.
Anyways (sorry, I can't seem to stay on track tonight to save my life) I call in sounding like a ten-year-old, "Um, hi, this is Alex Park...Um...I was told to call in today to work....So do you guys like need me?"
"Hang on." I was put on hold for a few minutes, listening to some overly bouncy weird dance mix, to which I nearly gagged all over the phone (I can't stand that music!) "Uh..We're over-booked already, so don't come in."
"Uhm, ok, thanks anyways!"
Oh, I was mad. I have zero money do to the fact of gas prices (ugh) and the fact that if I have cash, I'll spend it. So currently, I'm reduced to babysitting for my neighbors for like all of my Saturday. I'm excited...
So two Sundays ago, I went to orientation, decked out in Abercrombie head-to-toe...Or, well, I would be if I owned more than two shirts and no pants or shoes from there. I guess I need to get up to scratch on the whole Abercrombie-clothes thing, but I have a discount now, and that should help. So anyways, I go in and they give the average, what to wear, jewelry, being on time, you know the drill. So we all get ready to leave, and someone asks when we'd start work.
"Um, well, they already made the schedule for this week, so just call in and ask for your schedule on Thursday." Well, we all know how that excursion worked out, so let's not go into details.
But, the main thing of the story was that today I had a call-in, aka call and if I'm needed, I go in, if not, bummer. I understand that the chances of me going in on a call-in are slim to none, but I try to remain optimistic, until I find out I'm wrong...And people ask me why I'm a pessimist, about my life anyways...If you're anyone else, I'm optimistic, if you're me, you've got issues.
So I have no idea what to say, and I'm not so excited over the fact that I have to call in because my voice somewhat resembles Minnie Mouse's on the tele. What drives me nuts is when those stupid tele-marketers call and go, "Is your mommy or daddy home little girl?"
I generally yell something along the lines of, "I'm 17 so go screw yourself!" Hanging up, and then feeling bad for being mean to a stranger.
Anyways (sorry, I can't seem to stay on track tonight to save my life) I call in sounding like a ten-year-old, "Um, hi, this is Alex Park...Um...I was told to call in today to work....So do you guys like need me?"
"Hang on." I was put on hold for a few minutes, listening to some overly bouncy weird dance mix, to which I nearly gagged all over the phone (I can't stand that music!) "Uh..We're over-booked already, so don't come in."
"Uhm, ok, thanks anyways!"
Oh, I was mad. I have zero money do to the fact of gas prices (ugh) and the fact that if I have cash, I'll spend it. So currently, I'm reduced to babysitting for my neighbors for like all of my Saturday. I'm excited...
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Another year-long post
So today's post is half a enter-Alex's-sorry-life story, but it's more of a I don't understand, and need answers post! First off, I want to say, I'm not questioning this to offend anyone; I just truly don't know the answer.
So, let's get to it. Guys wearing girl pants. I don't understand. It seems only emo kids wear them, but I can't imagine that it would be comfortable. They aren't made for guys, so you wouldn't think there'd be enough room in there for everything, would you? No one seems to know the answer to this problem, much like the one where you only have $20-shoes or purse? problem. I asked one kid and he had no comments on the situation...I waited for ten minutes for a reply, and no dice. Either he was ignoring me or had nothing to say on the subject. Another kid answered, but all he said was, "I don't know, I'm not emo, ask one."
I would ask one, except I've been branded as a 'prep' (when did this happen? I remember being second grade wearing a blue tie-dye Lion King shirt to school a lot) and I'm very afraid that they will either laugh at me until I leave (except I've rarely seen one smile, have you?) or they will threaten me with...Oh, I don't know...Something nasty, with big pointy teeth. So I just don't know. Again, I don't mean to offend anyone, if the guys who wear those do so for personal uniqueness, more power to you...I just don't have the slightest clue why. So if anyone knows the answer to this issue, please leave a comment amongst all the spam.
Now, to my pathetic life. So today was picture day. Where do I begin? Last year, I was standing in line, talking to one of my friends about how before I left for school that day, my mother gave me a really long lecture on 'smiling normally.' Apparently, I'm one of those losers who, when faced with a camera, will either immediately duck, or make a face that somewhat resembles me getting tortured, but not quite a smile. So, I'm talking, and it's my turn. The photographer heard me talking about my 'smiling dilemma,' and cracked a joke. I giggle, and CLICK. Holy crap, did he really just take that as my school picture?
"OK, next! Good job!"
"Was...Was that my picture?"
"Uh-huh..NEXT!"
I stumble off the stage in a state of shock. "That craphole just took a picture of me-laughing! With my mouth wide open! LAUGHING!" I mumbled to my friend. She's cracking up because she thinks this is another one of Alex's exaggerated stories, but oh, no. This is the honest-to-God truth. The pictures develop, and there's me, giggling like a geek. Of course, I couldn't get re-takes 'cause I came home, set the pictures on the kitchen counter, and went somewhere. While I was gone, my grandparents stopped by and took the liberty of taking their fair share of grandkid's pictures. So I couldn't return them with half gone. Horrible.
The year before that, my hair was only to my shoulders, and curled out. I looked like the 15-year-old version of Nancy Drew. And the rest of the pictures are too painful to go into. I was on the phone with my mother yesterday after I got home from school, discussing...Or, well, me moping and her cracking up, on how zero school pictures ever look normal. So, this is my last shot 'cause Senior pictures are different, I can't wait until I take those, and I think I did okay, so knock on wood.
The real issue was that I was walking down the hall today, and I walk past my English classroom. My teacher's in there and a lot of people I thought I didn't know. Little did I know...
"Oh my God, Alex?"
"What happened?!"
"When you walked past Frazier's room this morning, someone said something about how tiny you are and how big your shoes were and the whole class was laughing at you." With friends like this, who needs enemies? I was pretty freaking embarrassed (this out-shines the whole forgetting to take off the tag on my shirt fiasco of yesterday by a mile) especially because I didn't have English yet.
So, I was sitting in Spanish, telling a few people about my problem, and the kid in front of me turns around and says, "Did you just say tiny pussy, big shoes?"
I stare at him like he's turned orange. "Noo..I said tiny people, big shoes...."
"Oh, all right then. Carry on." And he just turned around and went back to what he was doing. People like that confuse me.
Ok, well this was entirely too long of a post, sorry again. I need to find a way to shut myself up. But until next time, the un-photogenic, short, with big shoes, and bad grammar, Alex!
So, let's get to it. Guys wearing girl pants. I don't understand. It seems only emo kids wear them, but I can't imagine that it would be comfortable. They aren't made for guys, so you wouldn't think there'd be enough room in there for everything, would you? No one seems to know the answer to this problem, much like the one where you only have $20-shoes or purse? problem. I asked one kid and he had no comments on the situation...I waited for ten minutes for a reply, and no dice. Either he was ignoring me or had nothing to say on the subject. Another kid answered, but all he said was, "I don't know, I'm not emo, ask one."
I would ask one, except I've been branded as a 'prep' (when did this happen? I remember being second grade wearing a blue tie-dye Lion King shirt to school a lot) and I'm very afraid that they will either laugh at me until I leave (except I've rarely seen one smile, have you?) or they will threaten me with...Oh, I don't know...Something nasty, with big pointy teeth. So I just don't know. Again, I don't mean to offend anyone, if the guys who wear those do so for personal uniqueness, more power to you...I just don't have the slightest clue why. So if anyone knows the answer to this issue, please leave a comment amongst all the spam.
Now, to my pathetic life. So today was picture day. Where do I begin? Last year, I was standing in line, talking to one of my friends about how before I left for school that day, my mother gave me a really long lecture on 'smiling normally.' Apparently, I'm one of those losers who, when faced with a camera, will either immediately duck, or make a face that somewhat resembles me getting tortured, but not quite a smile. So, I'm talking, and it's my turn. The photographer heard me talking about my 'smiling dilemma,' and cracked a joke. I giggle, and CLICK. Holy crap, did he really just take that as my school picture?
"OK, next! Good job!"
"Was...Was that my picture?"
"Uh-huh..NEXT!"
I stumble off the stage in a state of shock. "That craphole just took a picture of me-laughing! With my mouth wide open! LAUGHING!" I mumbled to my friend. She's cracking up because she thinks this is another one of Alex's exaggerated stories, but oh, no. This is the honest-to-God truth. The pictures develop, and there's me, giggling like a geek. Of course, I couldn't get re-takes 'cause I came home, set the pictures on the kitchen counter, and went somewhere. While I was gone, my grandparents stopped by and took the liberty of taking their fair share of grandkid's pictures. So I couldn't return them with half gone. Horrible.
The year before that, my hair was only to my shoulders, and curled out. I looked like the 15-year-old version of Nancy Drew. And the rest of the pictures are too painful to go into. I was on the phone with my mother yesterday after I got home from school, discussing...Or, well, me moping and her cracking up, on how zero school pictures ever look normal. So, this is my last shot 'cause Senior pictures are different, I can't wait until I take those, and I think I did okay, so knock on wood.
The real issue was that I was walking down the hall today, and I walk past my English classroom. My teacher's in there and a lot of people I thought I didn't know. Little did I know...
"Oh my God, Alex?"
"What happened?!"
"When you walked past Frazier's room this morning, someone said something about how tiny you are and how big your shoes were and the whole class was laughing at you." With friends like this, who needs enemies? I was pretty freaking embarrassed (this out-shines the whole forgetting to take off the tag on my shirt fiasco of yesterday by a mile) especially because I didn't have English yet.
So, I was sitting in Spanish, telling a few people about my problem, and the kid in front of me turns around and says, "Did you just say tiny pussy, big shoes?"
I stare at him like he's turned orange. "Noo..I said tiny people, big shoes...."
"Oh, all right then. Carry on." And he just turned around and went back to what he was doing. People like that confuse me.
Ok, well this was entirely too long of a post, sorry again. I need to find a way to shut myself up. But until next time, the un-photogenic, short, with big shoes, and bad grammar, Alex!
Friday, September 09, 2005
A very long post, get excited!
This is my second post in two days, I'm actually getting good at this stuff! So today my first debit card came in. It was very exciting. I don't know why exactly I'm so hyper about it, but it seems important. Before I forget go to Carinne's site and read the topmost post. Too too funny.
So today, I had to cash my last check (LAST CHECK!!) from Giant Eagle. I walk into the bank because my dad told me just to do that because I have no idea how to use the MAC machines. So I go up to the front desk, wait in line, wait in line, and wait in line some more. Finally it was my turn; the front desk guy, listens to me babble as I explain that I have no idea what I have to do in a bank, how to put this check into my account, or anything of the sort. After all my waiting, all he has to say is, "Go to the teller for that."
Me and my supreme knowledge of banking, big innocent smile, "The what?"
Big smile and a you're-short-and-stupid-I-pity-you-rather-than-despise-you look, "Follow me."
We go to the huge line that you would think would be in the front of the building, but of course it's not. I completely walk past the 'Enter Here' sign, and stand outside those little black rope-ish things that mark the line, looking totally stupid, until some man in the line felt sorry for me and told me that I actually need to get in the line if I wanted to get help. That was a pretty good job on my part.
Then, I'm standing in line, and because I have the attention span of around a four-year-old (and the spelling to go along with it, thank God for spell check) I'm texting some of my friends, and getting mean looks from this old woman behind me, God forbid having friends. So, by some luck, this lady comes out and asks if anyone in line was just cashing a check. It was fairly exciting.
So I go over there, feeling extremely happy over the fact that I know longer have to stand in the 20 minute long line with the screaming baby in it, and the lady goes, "Ok, do you have a deposit slip?"
"Um...I don't think so. Actually, I don't know what it is, so I just might...What is it exactly?" What it turned out to be was a little slip that you write how much money you're depositing and that's about it. The big trouble about this was the fact that Giant Eagle checks have to be the most messed up ever. They don't have a verification thing on the back, or any of those lines that normal checks do, nothing. It's just this gross brown-ish gray color.
Severe look, like I'm trying to cheat on a math test, "Is this a real check?"
And for that look, I plan on being fully obnoxious, "Uh-huh. They've given it to me every week for a looong time."
Then I felt bad because I think she was new because she asked for help from none other than Front Desk Man. He looked only too happy to see me again. After me screwing up several times (I believe that you should always get a few more chances in life, more often than not, I mess my first attempt up pretty awesomely), I finally got out of there in relatively good time.
My next stop was the mall. I was told to just call in for my schedule, but the problem was that in the handbook they gave us, there's about twelve numbers, all of them starting in 1-800. So rather than calling all of them and listening to annoying voice message people, I figured I would just go in. Considering I work at Abercrombie kids, I walk in there and all those who work there think I'm 14. I explain I work there and want my schedule. I get questioned the same questions by two different guys, and get my whopping schedule. I work once this week. Once. And it's a call-in. Which means that if they don't need me, I don't go in. And don't get paid. I left Giant Eagle because of too many hours, now I'm getting none. I need to find the middle man.
It's abso-freaking-lutely (Ok, so I saw someone on the show Sex and the City say 'absoultely' like that, only with a different 'F' word in the middle, and I've really wanted to say that, and yeah, I know I'm a loser. It works for me.) confusing, and sorry about the long post (those rare few who actually read this...) but it's Friday night, and I'm grounded (see previous post) and everyone else is out and I'm sooo bored. Just to make up for this mammoth post, I probably won't post for a while...But if I don't:
GO STEELERS!
So today, I had to cash my last check (LAST CHECK!!) from Giant Eagle. I walk into the bank because my dad told me just to do that because I have no idea how to use the MAC machines. So I go up to the front desk, wait in line, wait in line, and wait in line some more. Finally it was my turn; the front desk guy, listens to me babble as I explain that I have no idea what I have to do in a bank, how to put this check into my account, or anything of the sort. After all my waiting, all he has to say is, "Go to the teller for that."
Me and my supreme knowledge of banking, big innocent smile, "The what?"
Big smile and a you're-short-and-stupid-I-pity-you-rather-than-despise-you look, "Follow me."
We go to the huge line that you would think would be in the front of the building, but of course it's not. I completely walk past the 'Enter Here' sign, and stand outside those little black rope-ish things that mark the line, looking totally stupid, until some man in the line felt sorry for me and told me that I actually need to get in the line if I wanted to get help. That was a pretty good job on my part.
Then, I'm standing in line, and because I have the attention span of around a four-year-old (and the spelling to go along with it, thank God for spell check) I'm texting some of my friends, and getting mean looks from this old woman behind me, God forbid having friends. So, by some luck, this lady comes out and asks if anyone in line was just cashing a check. It was fairly exciting.
So I go over there, feeling extremely happy over the fact that I know longer have to stand in the 20 minute long line with the screaming baby in it, and the lady goes, "Ok, do you have a deposit slip?"
"Um...I don't think so. Actually, I don't know what it is, so I just might...What is it exactly?" What it turned out to be was a little slip that you write how much money you're depositing and that's about it. The big trouble about this was the fact that Giant Eagle checks have to be the most messed up ever. They don't have a verification thing on the back, or any of those lines that normal checks do, nothing. It's just this gross brown-ish gray color.
Severe look, like I'm trying to cheat on a math test, "Is this a real check?"
And for that look, I plan on being fully obnoxious, "Uh-huh. They've given it to me every week for a looong time."
Then I felt bad because I think she was new because she asked for help from none other than Front Desk Man. He looked only too happy to see me again. After me screwing up several times (I believe that you should always get a few more chances in life, more often than not, I mess my first attempt up pretty awesomely), I finally got out of there in relatively good time.
My next stop was the mall. I was told to just call in for my schedule, but the problem was that in the handbook they gave us, there's about twelve numbers, all of them starting in 1-800. So rather than calling all of them and listening to annoying voice message people, I figured I would just go in. Considering I work at Abercrombie kids, I walk in there and all those who work there think I'm 14. I explain I work there and want my schedule. I get questioned the same questions by two different guys, and get my whopping schedule. I work once this week. Once. And it's a call-in. Which means that if they don't need me, I don't go in. And don't get paid. I left Giant Eagle because of too many hours, now I'm getting none. I need to find the middle man.
It's abso-freaking-lutely (Ok, so I saw someone on the show Sex and the City say 'absoultely' like that, only with a different 'F' word in the middle, and I've really wanted to say that, and yeah, I know I'm a loser. It works for me.) confusing, and sorry about the long post (those rare few who actually read this...) but it's Friday night, and I'm grounded (see previous post) and everyone else is out and I'm sooo bored. Just to make up for this mammoth post, I probably won't post for a while...But if I don't:
GO STEELERS!
Thursday, September 08, 2005
No More Grocery!!!
I'm so excited! Today I get to go and get my last paycheck from the Grocery. I finally got my job at Abercrombie (yee-haw!) and got out of there. That was one of the best days ever knowing I'd never work there again. Woot. So right now I'm drinking Mt. Dew, blasting some music and just feeling good about myself. It's pretty awesome.
Monday was another good day. Kennywood with some friends...I really think I could live on their bacon cheddar fries. Five times on the Phantom. Way too much fun. We were already planning on coming back for Phantom Fright Nights when we realized that it was nine, which is when we were supposed to be home...Not leaving, but in Shaler. My dad was worried 'cause the Kennywood neighborhood isn't too nice, but my mom is a complete other story. I wasn't too worried because people only mug cars that seem like they have money, and my holy '97 Malibu doesn't fit the description.
We got home 20 minutes later, which I thought was pretty exciting how considering how I went the wrong way twice (once I thought the directions were wrong so I went straight and didn't turn, and ended up pulling a U-turn and getting honked at. Oops. The next time, the directions didn't say to go left or right so I picked one and was wrong. So I ended up pulling into a field where a lacrosse team was playing (woot!) and having to ask directions. So it took about 45 minutes to an hour to get there and only 20 minutes to go home. Pretty freaking exciting.
Not too much else is going on except my older sister, Carinne, is doing Sorority Rush this weekend, so go to her blog and leave a comment of encouragement (I deserve a medal, I'm such a nice sister...)!
Well, I'll update when I have something exciting that happens or the creative writing jazz comes back.
Monday was another good day. Kennywood with some friends...I really think I could live on their bacon cheddar fries. Five times on the Phantom. Way too much fun. We were already planning on coming back for Phantom Fright Nights when we realized that it was nine, which is when we were supposed to be home...Not leaving, but in Shaler. My dad was worried 'cause the Kennywood neighborhood isn't too nice, but my mom is a complete other story. I wasn't too worried because people only mug cars that seem like they have money, and my holy '97 Malibu doesn't fit the description.
We got home 20 minutes later, which I thought was pretty exciting how considering how I went the wrong way twice (once I thought the directions were wrong so I went straight and didn't turn, and ended up pulling a U-turn and getting honked at. Oops. The next time, the directions didn't say to go left or right so I picked one and was wrong. So I ended up pulling into a field where a lacrosse team was playing (woot!) and having to ask directions. So it took about 45 minutes to an hour to get there and only 20 minutes to go home. Pretty freaking exciting.
Not too much else is going on except my older sister, Carinne, is doing Sorority Rush this weekend, so go to her blog and leave a comment of encouragement (I deserve a medal, I'm such a nice sister...)!
Well, I'll update when I have something exciting that happens or the creative writing jazz comes back.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Well, school started on Monday and it already sucks. They have really gotten strict about the days off...Only 12 per semester and 24 in the whole year. They also have to get a note the next day. The discipline is freaking crazy too...Basically, if you sneeze the wrong way, they'll call the cops and get you in school suspension. It took Shaler this long to realize that if you suspend someone, you get a free day at home to sleep while everyone else has to come. So they changed it. Also, if you're late twice to a class, you get detention. TWICE! I can't for the life of me figure out why they're being so horrible, they're treating us like we're suddenly going to revolt or something...This is the school that only had like what? Four fights last year? Oh, boy! Big problem, that Shaler High.
Other than that I've been killed with homework...A few hours per night, and that's not a plus when you have to work four and a half hours. Having a job while in school really really sucks.
But on the plus side, my birthday's tomorrow! Yay! I feel old...So many people are like 'wow! You're going to be 17! Wow!' Weird stuff man.
Well, my family's having a birthday dinner for me tonight with the whole clan coming down, so I have to get back to pretending that I actually care about Calc or whatever else I have to do...
Other than that I've been killed with homework...A few hours per night, and that's not a plus when you have to work four and a half hours. Having a job while in school really really sucks.
But on the plus side, my birthday's tomorrow! Yay! I feel old...So many people are like 'wow! You're going to be 17! Wow!' Weird stuff man.
Well, my family's having a birthday dinner for me tonight with the whole clan coming down, so I have to get back to pretending that I actually care about Calc or whatever else I have to do...
Thursday, August 18, 2005
100 Facts
Because I can't think for myself, I'm copying my sister, Carinne, and doing a top 100 facts
1. I'm 5 feet tall, but I pretend I'm taller
2. I work in a stinky old grocery store
3. I straighten my hair almost every day so now it's almost dead
4. I've only had my license for less than six months and I've already hit a car
5. I love to shop now that I get a weekly paycheck, and that check rarely lasts the week mostly intact
6. I felt really bad that I had this blog but no one commented, until I realized that I had it set that only bloggers could comment on it. Now I just feel dumb.
7. I believe that Cheez-Its should be a major food group
8. I think Shaler should outlaw senior projects before I hit Senior year
9. I have a major crush on Johnny Depp and Hugh Jackman
10. Most of my summer, when I'm not at work, consists of eating
11. The Clarks and Green Day are two of my favorite bands
12. My older sister is a sophomore in college and I'm insanely jealous
13. My dog sleeps on my bed and normally takes up the middle which makes it a huge pain in the ass to sleep
14. Because my dog sleeps on my bed, my room smells like dog and grosses everyone in my family out
15. My car currently is nearly running on empty and I'm scared to get gas because of the ungodly prices
16. I hate cooking and living proof is the burned ring on the countertop when I put a hot pan there
17. I also hate cleaning and my room is living proof of that
18. American Eagle is one of my favorite stores
19. I play no sports, but I did play soccer
20. I like football and hockey but baseball gets boring really quick
21. My favorite movies are Pirates of the Caribbean, X-Men, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and The Phantom of the Opera
22. My toenails are generally painted pink
23. My favorite color is orange
24. My little brothers drive me crazy which when Carinne leaves for school (tomorrow) I'm going to go insane
25. I am almost constantly online
26. I have a new obsession with texting too
27. I am a lefty, which surprises a lot of people...As if it matters
28. When the dog gets a bath, she shakes water everywhere so no one will give her a bath so I have to
29. I don't want school to start because I'm on question seven out of 24 of my summer assignment
30. I also don't want school to start because it's insane waking up that early in the morning
31. Cake is a serious breakfast food
32. Call me a dork, but I like the Harry Potter books
33. I have two fish and my little brother feeds them and gets really uptight when we go out of town on vacation or such, because he thinks no one will feed them and they'll kick the bucket
34. Speaking of kicking the bucket, a great old movie is It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. If you ever saw Rat Race, go see it, it's awesome
35. I can't grow my nails out and I can't figure out why
36. That one week in October when all the leaves change color is my favorite time of year
37. Christmas is my favorite holiday, with Halloween being a close second
38. I will admit it, I am a reality TV addict
39. If I was old enough to vote, I'd be Republican, but I don't argue about it like some people do in my class...They believe their life goal is to change everyone's political belief to theirs...I hope to God they never get in office
40. The only camera I own is on my phone, which might be a good thing because I'm prone to taking pictures of nothing in bulk
41. Today is payday and I'm off work, which means that today is the best day of the year
42. I mainly live off of popcorn and popsicles in the summer
43. I turn seventeen in two weeks exactly
44. School starts in ten days
45. I like shoes but I generally don't have any money left to buy them
46. I have a scar on each knee from the time when I was seven and raced my neighbor down her hill, fell and slid across her concrete patio
47. My feet used to be absolutely foul because I had warts all over them until they grossed me out so much I picked them off (I was a brave little kid...You wouldn't catch me dead doing that now)
48. I don't understand why people whine about doing laundry so much, you just throw clothes in there and watch TV when you have to fold them
49. My dog is as lazy as I am; she spends about 40% of her day sleeping
50. My little brothers have recently discovered the wonder that is The Sims and I have to kick them off daily, otherwise I'd never get on
51. Cap'n Crunch is most definitely my favorite cereal
52. My summer attire consists of Soffee shorts and various tank tops
53. I like skiing but I'm not very good...I tend to fall down a lot while all my friends (who are good skiiers) laugh and takes pictures of me lying down in my huge, puffy, purple ski jacket (I got it when I was like 14...)
54. Taking about said ski jacket, I have been told that I look like an oversize grape screaming and falling my way down the mountain
55. Most of my stories, except the really good ones, have to be exaggerated, otherwise everyone will know how dull I really am
56. Most of my friends get daily updates on the strange people who come into my store
57. I started reading the Da Vinci Code, but I got to like page 20 in two weeks and my dad said either I had to read faster or give the book to him...He's currently on page 23
58. Every time I start eating something my little brothers are there in a heartbeat to speed up the process...I swear they have a food radar or something
59. All around our computer (you can see I'm running out of things to say, I'm looking at anything to talk about) there are these rubber like weird people things where you cut out someone's head of a picture and place it in the picture spot and my person's really tall and I find that awesome
60. I tried running several miles and doing a lot of crunches back in June, all I got was sore thighs and people at work laughing at me every time I had to move cause it hurt so bad
61. I'm a big believer in vacation reading...Whether it's a novel or a magazine, its easy to get done
62. It's shocking, the month before school starts, people start to realize that there's only a few weekends left to party, so I had a party every weekend starting in the beginning of August and goes until school starts
63. Ever since I got my license, my parents have been using me as a sort of personal errand girl. They figure that when someone else can do it, why go yourself?
64. When my hair is curly the previous day and I go to bed with it curly, it's probably that my hair will be sticking several feet away from my head in the morning
65. I have a dog that recently jumped out the window of my moving car to go and 'play' with another dog...I thought the lady was going to sue me...She was sooo pissed
66. I drive fast
67. I drive a Malibu that is a gas hog
68. When I tan, it's more of a burn, then tan, then peel until I have a strange orange tint to my skin...Plus about a billion more freckles
69. My family thinks I am most likely to become a housewife when I grow up
70. They also think I have no common sense, which brought up the nickname 'Llama'-don't ask
71. My nickname from my friends is Eelix from a New York soccer team with an Alex on their team and that's what they called her and it drove me nuts
72. I sound like the obnoxious teenager that I probably am, saying "like," "seriously," "no, really!" "nuh-uh," and "honestly" all the time
73. When I was a little kid, I thought my life was a TV show and I was the announcer to all the games that me and my sister used to play
74. My goal for the end of the summer is to get my nose pierced, but considering how soon that is, it's probably not going to happen
75. I dye my hair red and in the sun it sorta looks like my heads of fire, because it's that weird copper color
76. I have been told that I look like Lindsay Lohan, to which I laugh
77. I have one of those annoying button noses which I've been told is cute, but I find highly un-cute
78. I am definitely a Survivor addict, as well as most of the reality TV on MTV (excluding Real World), Fear Factor, Sex and the City, and most of VH1
79. I don't like rap music, which is why I don't like MTV in the morning
80. I know just how much hair grows on your legs when you don't shave for a week...Which is hard to get away with in the summer
81. My middle name's Kay from my mother
82. I get pissed if people call me Alexis Parks, don't ask me why, I just do
83. I get bored if I try to tan for more than about 20 minutes
84. I talk on my phone a lot at work, but that's all I really talk on it, because otherwise I'm online
85. I love mashed potatoes, especially our school's and their gravy
86. I love getting dressed up in a skirt and nice shoes...It makes me feel good about myself
87. I've been told that I will be the shortest one in my family, excluding my mother, when my youngest brother starts growing
88. I was born in Wisconsin because my dad got transferred there for work
89. After spending six months in Wisconsin, we were then moved to Texas where I spent another six months
90. I don't know what my license plate says, but I don't really know if that matters
91. My car is really dirty, considering how I last washed it sometime in July
92. Like everyone else in the world, like roses
93. I wear a lot of pink which makes my sister call me a copier (yes, we are mature) because that's her favorite color and she's super girly-girl....Skirts everyday...Even while camping
94. We own a pop-up camper and went camping on Monday, well my dad and my brothers went on Sunday, me and Carinne went road-tripping Monday
95. I had to call in sick on Tuesday because I was camping, and I thought they were going to fire me because I sound normal, and how do you sound sick anyways? It's not the faint fake-sick everyone tries when they don't want to go to school, but I don't know what it is
96. I have a little bit of claustrophobia, at night when it's pitch black in my room, I get kinda nervous
97. I'm afraid of heights, which when I ride the Steel Phantom, whoever rides next to me on the way up the big hill, hears a lot of fun words
98. I used to be super-flexible doing all these weird stuff twisting my body and everything but no more
99. I have never gotten stiches, but my little brother makes up for that, having them several times
100. The only time I was even in a hospital is when me and my sister were fighting when I was like six, and I hid under my bed, and Carinne got a broom and started poking me and my arm fell out of its socket
That was really hard. Try it! After about 50 I ran out of things to say about myself...
1. I'm 5 feet tall, but I pretend I'm taller
2. I work in a stinky old grocery store
3. I straighten my hair almost every day so now it's almost dead
4. I've only had my license for less than six months and I've already hit a car
5. I love to shop now that I get a weekly paycheck, and that check rarely lasts the week mostly intact
6. I felt really bad that I had this blog but no one commented, until I realized that I had it set that only bloggers could comment on it. Now I just feel dumb.
7. I believe that Cheez-Its should be a major food group
8. I think Shaler should outlaw senior projects before I hit Senior year
9. I have a major crush on Johnny Depp and Hugh Jackman
10. Most of my summer, when I'm not at work, consists of eating
11. The Clarks and Green Day are two of my favorite bands
12. My older sister is a sophomore in college and I'm insanely jealous
13. My dog sleeps on my bed and normally takes up the middle which makes it a huge pain in the ass to sleep
14. Because my dog sleeps on my bed, my room smells like dog and grosses everyone in my family out
15. My car currently is nearly running on empty and I'm scared to get gas because of the ungodly prices
16. I hate cooking and living proof is the burned ring on the countertop when I put a hot pan there
17. I also hate cleaning and my room is living proof of that
18. American Eagle is one of my favorite stores
19. I play no sports, but I did play soccer
20. I like football and hockey but baseball gets boring really quick
21. My favorite movies are Pirates of the Caribbean, X-Men, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and The Phantom of the Opera
22. My toenails are generally painted pink
23. My favorite color is orange
24. My little brothers drive me crazy which when Carinne leaves for school (tomorrow) I'm going to go insane
25. I am almost constantly online
26. I have a new obsession with texting too
27. I am a lefty, which surprises a lot of people...As if it matters
28. When the dog gets a bath, she shakes water everywhere so no one will give her a bath so I have to
29. I don't want school to start because I'm on question seven out of 24 of my summer assignment
30. I also don't want school to start because it's insane waking up that early in the morning
31. Cake is a serious breakfast food
32. Call me a dork, but I like the Harry Potter books
33. I have two fish and my little brother feeds them and gets really uptight when we go out of town on vacation or such, because he thinks no one will feed them and they'll kick the bucket
34. Speaking of kicking the bucket, a great old movie is It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. If you ever saw Rat Race, go see it, it's awesome
35. I can't grow my nails out and I can't figure out why
36. That one week in October when all the leaves change color is my favorite time of year
37. Christmas is my favorite holiday, with Halloween being a close second
38. I will admit it, I am a reality TV addict
39. If I was old enough to vote, I'd be Republican, but I don't argue about it like some people do in my class...They believe their life goal is to change everyone's political belief to theirs...I hope to God they never get in office
40. The only camera I own is on my phone, which might be a good thing because I'm prone to taking pictures of nothing in bulk
41. Today is payday and I'm off work, which means that today is the best day of the year
42. I mainly live off of popcorn and popsicles in the summer
43. I turn seventeen in two weeks exactly
44. School starts in ten days
45. I like shoes but I generally don't have any money left to buy them
46. I have a scar on each knee from the time when I was seven and raced my neighbor down her hill, fell and slid across her concrete patio
47. My feet used to be absolutely foul because I had warts all over them until they grossed me out so much I picked them off (I was a brave little kid...You wouldn't catch me dead doing that now)
48. I don't understand why people whine about doing laundry so much, you just throw clothes in there and watch TV when you have to fold them
49. My dog is as lazy as I am; she spends about 40% of her day sleeping
50. My little brothers have recently discovered the wonder that is The Sims and I have to kick them off daily, otherwise I'd never get on
51. Cap'n Crunch is most definitely my favorite cereal
52. My summer attire consists of Soffee shorts and various tank tops
53. I like skiing but I'm not very good...I tend to fall down a lot while all my friends (who are good skiiers) laugh and takes pictures of me lying down in my huge, puffy, purple ski jacket (I got it when I was like 14...)
54. Taking about said ski jacket, I have been told that I look like an oversize grape screaming and falling my way down the mountain
55. Most of my stories, except the really good ones, have to be exaggerated, otherwise everyone will know how dull I really am
56. Most of my friends get daily updates on the strange people who come into my store
57. I started reading the Da Vinci Code, but I got to like page 20 in two weeks and my dad said either I had to read faster or give the book to him...He's currently on page 23
58. Every time I start eating something my little brothers are there in a heartbeat to speed up the process...I swear they have a food radar or something
59. All around our computer (you can see I'm running out of things to say, I'm looking at anything to talk about) there are these rubber like weird people things where you cut out someone's head of a picture and place it in the picture spot and my person's really tall and I find that awesome
60. I tried running several miles and doing a lot of crunches back in June, all I got was sore thighs and people at work laughing at me every time I had to move cause it hurt so bad
61. I'm a big believer in vacation reading...Whether it's a novel or a magazine, its easy to get done
62. It's shocking, the month before school starts, people start to realize that there's only a few weekends left to party, so I had a party every weekend starting in the beginning of August and goes until school starts
63. Ever since I got my license, my parents have been using me as a sort of personal errand girl. They figure that when someone else can do it, why go yourself?
64. When my hair is curly the previous day and I go to bed with it curly, it's probably that my hair will be sticking several feet away from my head in the morning
65. I have a dog that recently jumped out the window of my moving car to go and 'play' with another dog...I thought the lady was going to sue me...She was sooo pissed
66. I drive fast
67. I drive a Malibu that is a gas hog
68. When I tan, it's more of a burn, then tan, then peel until I have a strange orange tint to my skin...Plus about a billion more freckles
69. My family thinks I am most likely to become a housewife when I grow up
70. They also think I have no common sense, which brought up the nickname 'Llama'-don't ask
71. My nickname from my friends is Eelix from a New York soccer team with an Alex on their team and that's what they called her and it drove me nuts
72. I sound like the obnoxious teenager that I probably am, saying "like," "seriously," "no, really!" "nuh-uh," and "honestly" all the time
73. When I was a little kid, I thought my life was a TV show and I was the announcer to all the games that me and my sister used to play
74. My goal for the end of the summer is to get my nose pierced, but considering how soon that is, it's probably not going to happen
75. I dye my hair red and in the sun it sorta looks like my heads of fire, because it's that weird copper color
76. I have been told that I look like Lindsay Lohan, to which I laugh
77. I have one of those annoying button noses which I've been told is cute, but I find highly un-cute
78. I am definitely a Survivor addict, as well as most of the reality TV on MTV (excluding Real World), Fear Factor, Sex and the City, and most of VH1
79. I don't like rap music, which is why I don't like MTV in the morning
80. I know just how much hair grows on your legs when you don't shave for a week...Which is hard to get away with in the summer
81. My middle name's Kay from my mother
82. I get pissed if people call me Alexis Parks, don't ask me why, I just do
83. I get bored if I try to tan for more than about 20 minutes
84. I talk on my phone a lot at work, but that's all I really talk on it, because otherwise I'm online
85. I love mashed potatoes, especially our school's and their gravy
86. I love getting dressed up in a skirt and nice shoes...It makes me feel good about myself
87. I've been told that I will be the shortest one in my family, excluding my mother, when my youngest brother starts growing
88. I was born in Wisconsin because my dad got transferred there for work
89. After spending six months in Wisconsin, we were then moved to Texas where I spent another six months
90. I don't know what my license plate says, but I don't really know if that matters
91. My car is really dirty, considering how I last washed it sometime in July
92. Like everyone else in the world, like roses
93. I wear a lot of pink which makes my sister call me a copier (yes, we are mature) because that's her favorite color and she's super girly-girl....Skirts everyday...Even while camping
94. We own a pop-up camper and went camping on Monday, well my dad and my brothers went on Sunday, me and Carinne went road-tripping Monday
95. I had to call in sick on Tuesday because I was camping, and I thought they were going to fire me because I sound normal, and how do you sound sick anyways? It's not the faint fake-sick everyone tries when they don't want to go to school, but I don't know what it is
96. I have a little bit of claustrophobia, at night when it's pitch black in my room, I get kinda nervous
97. I'm afraid of heights, which when I ride the Steel Phantom, whoever rides next to me on the way up the big hill, hears a lot of fun words
98. I used to be super-flexible doing all these weird stuff twisting my body and everything but no more
99. I have never gotten stiches, but my little brother makes up for that, having them several times
100. The only time I was even in a hospital is when me and my sister were fighting when I was like six, and I hid under my bed, and Carinne got a broom and started poking me and my arm fell out of its socket
That was really hard. Try it! After about 50 I ran out of things to say about myself...
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Road Trippin'.
Story behind the sign @ Carinne's. Don't have time for a real update now.
Also my links on the side of my page are lame. If you want your blog/site/photos on them please LET ME KNOW. Thankya.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
My Schedule
1. Physics-Pivarski
2. Lab-Pivarski
2. Study Hall-Zyhowski (groan)
3. Calc-Zyhowski (groan, groan)
4. Sociology-Dahl (First Sem.)
4. Gym-Erb (Second Sem.)
5. Euro-Theil
6. Spanish 4-Israel
7. Lunch
8. Am Lit Surv-Frazier
9. Womens' Chorus-Frederick
Leave your schedule in the comment box!!
2. Lab-Pivarski
2. Study Hall-Zyhowski (groan)
3. Calc-Zyhowski (groan, groan)
4. Sociology-Dahl (First Sem.)
4. Gym-Erb (Second Sem.)
5. Euro-Theil
6. Spanish 4-Israel
7. Lunch
8. Am Lit Surv-Frazier
9. Womens' Chorus-Frederick
Leave your schedule in the comment box!!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Unemployment? I wish
Ok, well a new update. I haven't done anything for a while, so there was nothing to post about. We went of vacation a couple of weeks ago. I got horribly sunburned, that turned into tan, that started peeling the day we came home so I couldn't show off my awesome tan to anyone. Awesome.
But anyways, either on Thursday or Friday, I got this paper from Giant Eagle that basically said that this was a warning. I had been late seven times in June (mostly five minutes, but the latest was eight) and they were mad. One more time, and I'm fired. Well, I can't remember if I was late in July, but if I was, then I'm sunk.
So I talked to my parents about all this. Hoping that maybe they'd say I could quit and then get a new job. Ha. I'm not allowed to quit, actually. How often does that happen? My parents forbade me to quit my job, until I get a new one. Hurray! I am half-ready to do what George Costanza from Seinfeld did in one episode. He did everything he possibly could to get fired from his job, including running in a skin-colored body suit across, I think it was, a baseball game. That'd be a sight to see. Me dashing in Giant Eagle in a nude body suit. Excellent.
In the meantime, I've been putting my application in everywhere. I really want a new job. If anyone knows where else I can apply, please leave a comment or e-mail me.
But anyways, either on Thursday or Friday, I got this paper from Giant Eagle that basically said that this was a warning. I had been late seven times in June (mostly five minutes, but the latest was eight) and they were mad. One more time, and I'm fired. Well, I can't remember if I was late in July, but if I was, then I'm sunk.
So I talked to my parents about all this. Hoping that maybe they'd say I could quit and then get a new job. Ha. I'm not allowed to quit, actually. How often does that happen? My parents forbade me to quit my job, until I get a new one. Hurray! I am half-ready to do what George Costanza from Seinfeld did in one episode. He did everything he possibly could to get fired from his job, including running in a skin-colored body suit across, I think it was, a baseball game. That'd be a sight to see. Me dashing in Giant Eagle in a nude body suit. Excellent.
In the meantime, I've been putting my application in everywhere. I really want a new job. If anyone knows where else I can apply, please leave a comment or e-mail me.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Made some Updates
Does this pic make you hunnnnnngry? I'm starving. Mmmm. Cupcakes.Carinne helped me make updates to my blog, lemme know what you think.
Also, if you want your blog to be a link on my site, leave me a comment with your site link and I'll add you.
AAAAAAAAAAAlex.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
The Donald
Yesterday, at work, there was this lady who had one of those un-Godly huge orders, like $200, that generally suck. But the really unique thing about this woman was her hair. It was the closest thing to Donald Trump's hair that I had ever seen. Exact color and everything. It was so similar, that if he came on TV today and said that he found his long-lost sister who is currently living in Pittsburgh, and showed a picture, it's believable.
The whole order, I couldn't help gaping at this woman's hair. I really wanted to ask if she was at all related to Donald Trump, but then I realized that if she was, she wouldn't bother with the 20-something coupons she brought with her. Apparently, I was the only one who noticed this because I talked to boy who was bagging for me right after she left and he didn't notice her hair at all, neither did the man behind her. Maybe I just notice things like that.
Then, the other day, the cashier next to me, I swear got a monk in line. It was some pretty cool stuff. He had on a long brown robe that are always in movies and stuff and I swear(okay, it might have been my imagination) that it was tied up by a rope. He was bald and had on glasses and, for some reason, reminded me of Ghandi. Seeing him and Ms. Trump make work unique, if not exactly fun, and at least there's a few good stories coming out of this too....
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Top Ten
Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate Swim Meets
10. You have to sit on a bleacher for two hours. Very close bleachers. My posture is horrible and I ran into someone's knees about 10 times
9. There are events that take a half hour alone because there's so many alternate heats.
8. Sitting two hours in horrible humidity so my straight hair becomes wavy and the little hairs at my forehead completely spiral curl and make me look really dumb.
7. I am one of four people (out of like 50) screaming my lungs off for my little brothers.
6. Am officially addicted to the ice cream they sell.
5. Being officially addicted to the ice cream, I can never eat it without getting it all over my t-shirt.
4. Having no money to get gas for my gas-less car, so I had to run there. And in doing so, realizing how bad I'm out of shape, if my tomato-red face didn't show it or anything.
3. My grandmother seeing a boy who she thinks is cute and having my mother saying that he's in my grade and her going, "Alex, I think you should get to knooow that boy better."
2. See another boy who's in my grade and my grandmother leans over my mom to whisper really loud, "Alex! That boy was checking you out!" The next time he walks by, "He did it again!"
and the biggest reason why I hate swim meets:
1. When I buy my ice cream, I'm licking away, having a great time, when my grandfather goes, "Alex, you have a really good tongue. Have you ever heard that before?" (In response to my there's-no-way-in-Hell-I'm-going-to-answer-that look, and my grandmother and mother and just about everyone around us on the very tight bleachers laughing) "Whaaat? I meant about her ice cream!!"
Honestly, the only good thing that happened tonight was that when I told my grandparents that I have exactly 80 cents for gas, they promptly forked over 10 bucks so I can get gas. That officially made my week...But considering how I spend the majority of my time at a grocery store, that isn't too great of a feat.
10. You have to sit on a bleacher for two hours. Very close bleachers. My posture is horrible and I ran into someone's knees about 10 times
9. There are events that take a half hour alone because there's so many alternate heats.
8. Sitting two hours in horrible humidity so my straight hair becomes wavy and the little hairs at my forehead completely spiral curl and make me look really dumb.
7. I am one of four people (out of like 50) screaming my lungs off for my little brothers.
6. Am officially addicted to the ice cream they sell.
5. Being officially addicted to the ice cream, I can never eat it without getting it all over my t-shirt.
4. Having no money to get gas for my gas-less car, so I had to run there. And in doing so, realizing how bad I'm out of shape, if my tomato-red face didn't show it or anything.
3. My grandmother seeing a boy who she thinks is cute and having my mother saying that he's in my grade and her going, "Alex, I think you should get to knooow that boy better."
2. See another boy who's in my grade and my grandmother leans over my mom to whisper really loud, "Alex! That boy was checking you out!" The next time he walks by, "He did it again!"
and the biggest reason why I hate swim meets:
1. When I buy my ice cream, I'm licking away, having a great time, when my grandfather goes, "Alex, you have a really good tongue. Have you ever heard that before?" (In response to my there's-no-way-in-Hell-I'm-going-to-answer-that look, and my grandmother and mother and just about everyone around us on the very tight bleachers laughing) "Whaaat? I meant about her ice cream!!"
Honestly, the only good thing that happened tonight was that when I told my grandparents that I have exactly 80 cents for gas, they promptly forked over 10 bucks so I can get gas. That officially made my week...But considering how I spend the majority of my time at a grocery store, that isn't too great of a feat.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Entry to Annoy
So my parents are having this neighborhood/family friends party and I'm bored to tears so I went online. I'm talking to a few people and my little brother comes into the room. "Why are you still on the computer?"
"Because I have people to talk to."
"Well I have to get a code for my video game."
"Beat it by yourself. I really think you can do it."
"Noooo, I caaan't. Allleeeexx!! Let me go on!"
"No, I have a life and I'd like to talk to people."
After this fabulous arguement, Cam just plopped his behind on the chair/footrest thing that is right next to the computer. And he would just lay there. Everytime I'd tell him so politely to get the hell out of my face, he'd just stare at me with his eyes half open like he was high.
This has made me go insane. I don't like people reading my conversations, considering their private, so the only reason this entry is here is so I can tell him I'm doing something important and he needs to leave and I can't get off the computer quite yet.
But now I have to. More neighbors have arrived, bringing their two little kids along with them and some more family friends. I think I'm going to go hide in my room.
"Because I have people to talk to."
"Well I have to get a code for my video game."
"Beat it by yourself. I really think you can do it."
"Noooo, I caaan't. Allleeeexx!! Let me go on!"
"No, I have a life and I'd like to talk to people."
After this fabulous arguement, Cam just plopped his behind on the chair/footrest thing that is right next to the computer. And he would just lay there. Everytime I'd tell him so politely to get the hell out of my face, he'd just stare at me with his eyes half open like he was high.
This has made me go insane. I don't like people reading my conversations, considering their private, so the only reason this entry is here is so I can tell him I'm doing something important and he needs to leave and I can't get off the computer quite yet.
But now I have to. More neighbors have arrived, bringing their two little kids along with them and some more family friends. I think I'm going to go hide in my room.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
More Stories from Giant Eagle
So I changed my blog just because the last one was so bad. But nothing really happened to me then, and now (considering how I've been upgraded to cashier-woot) I see some strange people at Giant Eagle.
Anyways, I was at work on Thursday, and I had to start at eight in the morning. It was horrible. I was half asleep, miserable, and every cranky old person was in the store that day. So it's just about my lunch time and I pick up enthusiasm for eating when this one specific couple is in my line.
They were nice old people, but kinda weird. First of all, the wife comes up to me and says, "So, are you out of school yet, honey?" I say that my high school let out almost a month ago. "You're still in high school? I was sure you were out of college already. I bet you get this a lot, don't you?"
"Um, no. Most people think that I'm like twelve, actually." She then proceeded to be amazed that I was not in college for like five minutes. It was pretty strange.
Then her husband comes up to me to pay the bill, and goes, "So, who's the lucky guy?"
"Uh, excuse me?"
"Your ring. You must be engaged, because of your ring. Quite a fancy rock you've got there, young lady." This is the point when his wife comes back and tells him I'm still in high school. "High school?!?! And what do your parents think about you getting hitched (I'm not lying-he actually said 'hitched'-oy) when you're not out of high school yet?"
"Um...This ring was from my grandma. I only wear it on this finger because all my other fingers are too fat for it to fit on." I then got a lecture on how I should be more careful about where I wear my rings, because it confuses people, you know. It was really weird.
And then I tell two of my friends about this people yesterday in the car going to the movies, when this guy starts going out of turn at a four-way intersection, and I'm not one for letting people go without whining about it, so I honk my horn at him. Apparently, he's not either, because out of one of his back windows, someone throws an orange at my car. A freaking orange. I was a little bit more than slightly pissed. So I have all this fruit gross stuff on my windshield, to go along fabulously with all the bug guts and bird crap that's already making an appearance on the windshield.
Today, my parents are huge on the 'summer cleaning' so I have to clean my car-a huge feat considering this hasn't been done since at least February. And I have all these dots on the hood of my car, I ask my dad about it, and he tells me it's from those people who threw the orange at me. The acid wore away the paint on my car! So it's not a piece of crap already, with the holes in the ceiling from my dog, and the missing 'seek' button, and how my radio skips everytime I hit a bump (a real Pimp my Ride candidate, the sad thing is, it has a chance of going on the show...if I lived in California). But I love my car, sadly enough, and those holes are not awesome.
Anyways, I was at work on Thursday, and I had to start at eight in the morning. It was horrible. I was half asleep, miserable, and every cranky old person was in the store that day. So it's just about my lunch time and I pick up enthusiasm for eating when this one specific couple is in my line.
They were nice old people, but kinda weird. First of all, the wife comes up to me and says, "So, are you out of school yet, honey?" I say that my high school let out almost a month ago. "You're still in high school? I was sure you were out of college already. I bet you get this a lot, don't you?"
"Um, no. Most people think that I'm like twelve, actually." She then proceeded to be amazed that I was not in college for like five minutes. It was pretty strange.
Then her husband comes up to me to pay the bill, and goes, "So, who's the lucky guy?"
"Uh, excuse me?"
"Your ring. You must be engaged, because of your ring. Quite a fancy rock you've got there, young lady." This is the point when his wife comes back and tells him I'm still in high school. "High school?!?! And what do your parents think about you getting hitched (I'm not lying-he actually said 'hitched'-oy) when you're not out of high school yet?"
"Um...This ring was from my grandma. I only wear it on this finger because all my other fingers are too fat for it to fit on." I then got a lecture on how I should be more careful about where I wear my rings, because it confuses people, you know. It was really weird.
And then I tell two of my friends about this people yesterday in the car going to the movies, when this guy starts going out of turn at a four-way intersection, and I'm not one for letting people go without whining about it, so I honk my horn at him. Apparently, he's not either, because out of one of his back windows, someone throws an orange at my car. A freaking orange. I was a little bit more than slightly pissed. So I have all this fruit gross stuff on my windshield, to go along fabulously with all the bug guts and bird crap that's already making an appearance on the windshield.
Today, my parents are huge on the 'summer cleaning' so I have to clean my car-a huge feat considering this hasn't been done since at least February. And I have all these dots on the hood of my car, I ask my dad about it, and he tells me it's from those people who threw the orange at me. The acid wore away the paint on my car! So it's not a piece of crap already, with the holes in the ceiling from my dog, and the missing 'seek' button, and how my radio skips everytime I hit a bump (a real Pimp my Ride candidate, the sad thing is, it has a chance of going on the show...if I lived in California). But I love my car, sadly enough, and those holes are not awesome.
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