When one finds party hats in their kitchen,

One must take pictures.

Hence,

>

I sprained my wrist opening a bottle of soda.

I shit you not.

It was a glass bottle. This, actually.



Yumm C:

It's not really tricky to open by any stretch of the imagination. But then, coming from a person who loses their balance and falls over while sitting on a table, I suppose it's not that surprising.

The other night I accidentally hit a woman with a trolley whilst shopping... Then I forgot to offer my seat to a frail old lady...

Bitch please. This shit take skillz.

Why I Need to Think Before I Speak

A word of advice...

Never say things like

- "I put everything in my mouth"

- "I slept with my sister last night"

- "You wouldn't believe the things that happen with me and my cousin in bed sometimes at night" - courtesy of the boyfriend

- "I'll graph your package" to your Maths teacher in response to his talking about graphing packages on calculators... - I actually managed to not get this out of my mouth, but barely.


That is all.

That Is Correct.

I am entrusting you with this quest, this delicate mission that above all, requires subterfuge. Much, much subterfuge.
I don't know what that means.

I made it through the first day back. It actually went really fast. And now, my question is Why does our house smell like freaking aftershave???

My dad is the only male in our house. Moreover, I'm not even sure he uses aftershave. Unless it's a rule of shaving your face? I am no man, I do not know!

Did that sound defensive? It wasn't! I have been female for many years now!

I know for sure that he uses it occasionally at least, but even if he uses it every day and he used it this morning, why, at 9.30 at night, would our house be smelling as though someone washed the floors with it? Although, come to think of it, when my mum does wash the tiles or whatever she does, it never smells like anything, not even lemon, which is what most cleaning products smell like, right? That is, I am well acquainted with cleaning things and carry out many household chores.
That was a lie.

I do a bit of cleaning, kay??

Whatever.

Now answer me this. Why does my house smell overpoweringly like aftershave? Be creative, be informative, I don't care. I want to know. I need to know. Only you can help me.

Hi!

I'm a guest poster on 'Let's Talk About The Tour Guide' and I'm here to tell you my story...the story of the tour guide. Only I haven't written it up yet...oops.

Needless to say, I shall rectify this immediately...once I have some caffiene, watch some Heroes and do some homework.

WATCH THIS SPACE.



Yours truly, CarCrashHearts

"I Got Nothing To Say, But If You Pay Me I Can Play the Fool"

Or I can do it for free, whatever works.

Whatever creative juices may have lived in my brain space have dripped out through the holes in my skull where my Maths homework incinerated my eyes, leaving my eye sockets free for such things as dripping juice. And how did my Maths homework do this? Just by looking at me. I can feel it now. It's got crazy eyes. How I Met Your Mother style.


So, I've been sitting here for over half an hour attempting to write something and instead having it end as roadkill somewhere. Or, saved as a draft where it may one day be resurrected and turned into decent blog material. We can hope.

Oh and the remnant of those creative juices, being as dumb as I am these days, somehow missed the gaping holes at the forefront of my skull, and are currently bleeding from my ears.

So anyway, I'm just going to throw it out there, but, I thought shopping was hell before... (I'm fussy, okay? It's not my fault, it's the damn designers) but now. I cannot escape the uneasy glare of Robert Pattinson as Edward freaking Cullen, or other characters from that book/movie, wherever I go. There's a massive freaking poster of he and Bella in our school library! I understand the attraction, I do. It's a story that appeals to the romanticist inside every female. But, please, take a look at Robert Pattinson. Really, take a look. He was hot in Harry Potter, I'll give you that. BUT HE IS NOT ATTRACTIVE NOW. What is with his hair, and his face, and his goddamn expressions??? That's right, I hate Twilight. Feel free to hate on me, bitchez.

I could bitch about Twilight for hours, but my mind is going the same way as those creative juices and I have one bitch of a headache. Today is the last day of holidays and the looming horror of another term of school has me contemplating death by any means possible. Like, you know, suicide.

I must go, Biology is calling out for me in a querulous voice, determined to whittle away the last ounces of sanity I have left. Goodbye, dear internetz friendz. I pray to see thee again, if I pass through the trials of high school unscathed enough to return on the morrow.

Uh, yeah.

Night.

P.S. If you want to Shake It, for the love of God do it The Maine way, not Metro Station style (links are to the music videos on YouTube).

Rain, rain...

Our house is leaking.

While this rain is great, the steady downpour is apparently too much for the roof. There is a rather large wet patch at the edge of the living room, coinciding (amazingly [/sarcasm]) with a wet patch just above it on the ceiling. My dad is currently inside the roof with a torch and god knows what else attempting to do something about it... Wish him luck!
Xx