It's amazing how loud everything is when you're trying really hard to be quiet. I just switched on the computer, 'coz the laptop's not picking up the Wi-fi, and it sounded like someone chaining a tornado , for some inexplicable reason, and tying it up inside the house. Less soothing hum of industry, more roar of mechanical wrath. Why I'm trying to be quiet is because it's six a.m. in the morning. I'm the procrastinating-est darn thing you ever saw, so I've been up since four trying to finish off work I should have completed yesterday. It is extremely hard to resist the prodding of my crankier, sleepier self, and refrain from turning on some really loud music so that everyone can be as miserable as I am. I'm basically blogging to prevent myself from doing this.
Hey y'all how's it going? Many adjectives have been used to describe me over the past sixteen years, most of them derivatives of various four letter words, but the most common till now has definitely been 'unique'. Some of you may be a little worried by this, chill out peeps, it's not a compliment. To illustrate this point, let me give you an idea of the conversations I had with one of my best friends, Rose, yesterday:
(Right after assembly, school):
Me: I am death. Ugh, I hate Mondays.
Rose: I know right.
Me: Hey Rose, I've decided. We're not going to have any more Mondays.
Rose (confused but trusting): Okay. What'll we have instead?
Me: (thinking hard) Fundays. We'll have fundays. Go tell everyone school's cancelled.
Rose: See, in theory, that's a good idea. But if today ceases to be Monday, school will start tomorrow and then we'll hate Tuesdays.
Me: Tuesdays, forsooth! Great Scott, a flaw in my genius! (Or something along those lines)
Rose (inspired): I know! We'll have boozedays instead of Tuesdays and then school can start on Wednesday! Everybody wins!
We high-five, my high-five being a little disapproving because I'm a prude and I don't like drinking. Yes, I'm sure I'm a teenager.
(During the short break)
Rose: Hey, you know the teleporting canteen guy?
(NOTE: It's TRUE. He teleports! I buy my ticket from him from the ticket counter, which is attached to the canteen, and then when I go right to buy food, he's there again! He's a freaking teleporter!)
Me: Yeah?
Rose: He's walking down the stairs. Why is he walking down the stairs when he can teleport?
At this point we get into a heated discussion on whether he's an X-man or a fairy.
Me: Personally, I think he's a unicorn.
Rose: Joe! Don't be blonde! He doesn't have a horn.
In hindsight, I am seriously disturbed that neither of us found the fact that he wasn't a horse important. If you're reading this and you're above thirty-five, look at what the future of the nation is. It's us. I suggest you find a back-up plan. Quickly.
In other news, the Albert Barrow yesterday was good. I'm absolutely certain I'm not going to win, but whatevs, it was fun. My topic was an open letter from a grandparent to her grandchild.
The Five Worst Things To Write To Your Grandchild (You Saw This Coming):
1. P.S. You're adopted.
P. P. S. No, not really. I was kidding, silly.
P. P. P. S. Or was I?
2. I have buried the family treasure at- (Stop writing here.)
3. It's my fault you're named Obadiah. Sorry, kid.
4. No, I haven't left you anything in my will. When I die, I want it to be a sad day for everyone.
5. Your mother's real name is Gertrude.
LOOK A FOLLOW BUTTON!!!
Hey y'all how's it going? Many adjectives have been used to describe me over the past sixteen years, most of them derivatives of various four letter words, but the most common till now has definitely been 'unique'. Some of you may be a little worried by this, chill out peeps, it's not a compliment. To illustrate this point, let me give you an idea of the conversations I had with one of my best friends, Rose, yesterday:
(Right after assembly, school):
Me: I am death. Ugh, I hate Mondays.
Rose: I know right.
Me: Hey Rose, I've decided. We're not going to have any more Mondays.
Rose (confused but trusting): Okay. What'll we have instead?
Me: (thinking hard) Fundays. We'll have fundays. Go tell everyone school's cancelled.
Rose: See, in theory, that's a good idea. But if today ceases to be Monday, school will start tomorrow and then we'll hate Tuesdays.
Me: Tuesdays, forsooth! Great Scott, a flaw in my genius! (Or something along those lines)
Rose (inspired): I know! We'll have boozedays instead of Tuesdays and then school can start on Wednesday! Everybody wins!
We high-five, my high-five being a little disapproving because I'm a prude and I don't like drinking. Yes, I'm sure I'm a teenager.
(During the short break)
Rose: Hey, you know the teleporting canteen guy?
(NOTE: It's TRUE. He teleports! I buy my ticket from him from the ticket counter, which is attached to the canteen, and then when I go right to buy food, he's there again! He's a freaking teleporter!)
Me: Yeah?
Rose: He's walking down the stairs. Why is he walking down the stairs when he can teleport?
At this point we get into a heated discussion on whether he's an X-man or a fairy.
Me: Personally, I think he's a unicorn.
Rose: Joe! Don't be blonde! He doesn't have a horn.
In hindsight, I am seriously disturbed that neither of us found the fact that he wasn't a horse important. If you're reading this and you're above thirty-five, look at what the future of the nation is. It's us. I suggest you find a back-up plan. Quickly.
In other news, the Albert Barrow yesterday was good. I'm absolutely certain I'm not going to win, but whatevs, it was fun. My topic was an open letter from a grandparent to her grandchild.
The Five Worst Things To Write To Your Grandchild (You Saw This Coming):
1. P.S. You're adopted.
P. P. S. No, not really. I was kidding, silly.
P. P. P. S. Or was I?
2. I have buried the family treasure at- (Stop writing here.)
3. It's my fault you're named Obadiah. Sorry, kid.
4. No, I haven't left you anything in my will. When I die, I want it to be a sad day for everyone.
5. Your mother's real name is Gertrude.
LOOK A FOLLOW BUTTON!!!
1 comment:
Good piece of work, have been noting your posts since the last couple of months- when I read about it in your cousin (and my friend) Micheal's blog. Keep up the good work. :)
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