No freaking joke. I woke up this morning, rubbed my eyes, and saw that my left hand had a bleeding hole in it. Not a big hole, just a small one, maybe the size of the top of the cap of a pen, about two cm in diameter. It freaked the hell out of me. I checked my other hand, my feet, and my forehead, but all was normal. My left hand just spontaneously decided to start bleeding. I was a bit disappointed, to tell you the truth. I mean, imagine if I was the Antichrist. Just imagine it.
Because, stereotypically, the Antichrist is supposed to be of the male persuasion, born into a deeply Christian/Catholic/Protestant/Whatever family on June 6th, with black hair and eyes and supernatural abilities that make people feel really squicky. I, however, am a blonde, female-type Jewish person with grey eyes who was born in March. And yet, I am bleeding from a spontaneous flesh wound and little Damien has nothing. So haha, little Damien! So far, I am much more of an Antichrist than you are!`I believe my first order of business as the Antichrist will be to dissolve religion. Or I could dissolve Rachel Ray with my apparently acidic blood. Decisions, decisions.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Muahahaha! Success!
I am probably the only person on the planet that can get hurt at a Panic at the Disco concert, I mean really. I twisted my ankle and while it isn't broken, it hurts like billio. But at least I managed to total the ponytail of the blonde teenie bimbo bitch that shoved me over in the first place. It'll be nine in the afternoon before that hair grows in straight again, I'll tell you that. Heh heh heh.
But still, at the end of the night, ~I~ am the one who has the guitar pick that Ryan threw offstage, not blonde teenie bimbo bitch, so HAHAHA. I'm still a bit gutted that I didn't win the guitar, though. I met the girl that won the drum thing, and she's neat.
Also, I must give credit where credit is due and say that my mom is flipping awesome. Teenie's little brunette pallio tried to shove my mega-hippie mom out of the way to get to our spot when I went over to take close-up pics of Ryan, and my mom fought back. She was polite at first, and then she started banging the little bitch on the skull with her sandlewood fan. I'd like to state for the official record that my mom rules, and that I've finally figured out where all my violence comes from. Do not mess with old hippies, as they have been peaceful for many years and are only now letting out their repressed aggression.
I'm gonna go nurse my ankle with some Diet Coke and something unhealthy from our school vending machine now, ta.
But still, at the end of the night, ~I~ am the one who has the guitar pick that Ryan threw offstage, not blonde teenie bimbo bitch, so HAHAHA. I'm still a bit gutted that I didn't win the guitar, though. I met the girl that won the drum thing, and she's neat.
Also, I must give credit where credit is due and say that my mom is flipping awesome. Teenie's little brunette pallio tried to shove my mega-hippie mom out of the way to get to our spot when I went over to take close-up pics of Ryan, and my mom fought back. She was polite at first, and then she started banging the little bitch on the skull with her sandlewood fan. I'd like to state for the official record that my mom rules, and that I've finally figured out where all my violence comes from. Do not mess with old hippies, as they have been peaceful for many years and are only now letting out their repressed aggression.
I'm gonna go nurse my ankle with some Diet Coke and something unhealthy from our school vending machine now, ta.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Sometimes it seems like all I ever do is bitch, bitch, bitch...
Crod, I hate her so much!
Okay, Here's the skinny on this weeks drama: today, I learned that Granther, my great-grandfather (age 99), passed away. As if that didn't already suck, because I'd only ever met him once, (but I thought he was way cool for a guy who liked Limberger cheese, blech!) mom won't let me go to the funeral, even though my Grammy has said she'd pay for my plane ticket, and has actually already bought said ticket.
Also, mom officially hates my grandmother now, which means I must kill her for insubordination. She's pissed that Grammy went ahead and bought the ticket, and swears that I'm not going to the funeral in Pennsylvania, because I would miss two days of school. So what? They're the first two days of the new quarter, and it's very likely that I'd have slept through them anyway.
Screw her, I'm going to find a way to get on that plane if it kills me.
Okay, Here's the skinny on this weeks drama: today, I learned that Granther, my great-grandfather (age 99), passed away. As if that didn't already suck, because I'd only ever met him once, (but I thought he was way cool for a guy who liked Limberger cheese, blech!) mom won't let me go to the funeral, even though my Grammy has said she'd pay for my plane ticket, and has actually already bought said ticket.
Also, mom officially hates my grandmother now, which means I must kill her for insubordination. She's pissed that Grammy went ahead and bought the ticket, and swears that I'm not going to the funeral in Pennsylvania, because I would miss two days of school. So what? They're the first two days of the new quarter, and it's very likely that I'd have slept through them anyway.
Screw her, I'm going to find a way to get on that plane if it kills me.
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