The last two posts, at least, have been fairly sad, so I am here today to make you laugh!! And you're welcome for that because for the past hour and a half I've been sitting here and all I could think of to write were incredibly sad topics! Once again, you're welcome.
It was a cold and rainy day back when I was in the first grade, and it had been that way for a week. Needless to say, I was sick. My speech therapy teacher had just taken me out of class and we were on our way to pick up the other kids who were also in my speech class with me. We stopped in one room, waiting patiently for the teacher to stop talking before pulling the two kids from class. I can't remember what the teacher said, but I know that it was a HILARIOUS joke. I laughed so hard that the biggest snot bubble in all of creation came out of my nose. I didn't even realize it until I saw it out of the corner of my eye! I have no clue if anyone saw it because I reached for a tissue and got rid of the hideous snot bubble immediately, and then ran out of the class room.
It was gross.
This is a lesson for you.
During my early years of high school, I believe my freshman year, I did not know that you should not wear a backpack and a skirt at the same time. That particular day, I had decided to look cute and wear a fairly short and flowing pink skirt. I walked off the bus, through the parking lot, through the crowded commons-- YES! It was my freshman year!! I remember! Anyway, through the commons, down the stairs, and did not notice that my backpack had eaten the entirety of the back of my skirt until I went to the bathroom right before first period. For those who saw and did not say a word: I am incredibly displeased with your lack of morality! I'm still praying that maybe no one noticed because I didn't hear anybody, yet again, I tended to block everyone out.
Either way, girls, please don't wear a backpack and skirt. Secondly, wear shorts under your skirts ALWAYS.
My Papa was diagnosed with cancer about two years ago, so I went up north to help him with doctor visits, etc. One day, I had just finished taking him to the doctor when I decided that I was hungry and wanted a bagel. While the bagel was in the toaster, I searched everywhere in the fridge for the cream cheese, but all I could find was some kind of strawberry cream cheese. No thank you. I called for Papa to tell me where I could find the regular cream cheese, hoping that he would just tell me instead of getting up and making the bagel for me. I told him no, that I could do it, but he insisted. He asked me to grab him one of the foil-wrapped packages from the fridge door. I had thought for sure that it was butter when I was looking before! I felt so stupid! He spread the cream cheese on the bagel nice and thick and handed it to me with a smile. I didn't think that anything was wrong with the bagel until I took the first bite and almost threw up everywhere. The "cream cheese" tasted like soap. When I mean soap, I mean it had the EXACT texture, and you know that feeling you get on your skin after using bar soap? Yeah, well, my mouth felt like that. I didn't want to be rude because my Papa was feeling very tired and he had made the bagel for me! Quietly, I finished the bagel, only scraping off some excessive chunks of "cream cheese" in the process. After I gulped down the last bite, hating myself and teetering on the edge vomiting, I handed the plate to him and told him to taste it because it tasted too strange to be regular cream cheese. After feeding some to the dog and taking some for himself, he agreed with me. We went back into the kitchen and guess what we found? THE PACKAGE I GRABBED WAS CRISCO. I HATE A GINORMOUS AMOUNT OF CRISCO.
Never, ever eat Crisco.
Dear God, never do that to yourself.
In 7th grade, I was dating this boy named Michael . . . let's just go with Michael because I'm starting to doubt that that was his name. Anyway! We had only pecked when we kissed--ever. At lunch one day, he talked about making out. Well, it was more of his friends who sat across from us egging us on and Michael heavily considering. Before the conversation was over, the bell rang for us to go to class. Being the overly punctual girl that I am, I hurriedly got ready for class and leaned over to give him a quick kiss and leave, but found out that a "quick kiss" was not his intention. Michael made out with me. However, you will find that it's rather hard to make out with someone when your lips are shut tight and their lips are wrapped around yours and moving quite rapidly. Thanks to my eyes being opened, I saw that our friends were crying they were laughing so hard at the obviously painful sight of our "first make out". Needless to say, I was so embarrassed that I ran away crying afterwards.
Now you look at that picture.
Let that soak in.
I think I might start a new link on the side, you know, that neglected top left part of this website that says "Blog, About, Contact," etc. I've been on Pinterest lately constantly saddening myself with something I like to call the "Late Night Feels". Perhaps you guys also like to make yourself sad for no good reason and would like to share in my depressing findings on Pinterest? Oui? I don't know, but if you see a new link that is titled "Late Night Feels" you should stroll on over there late at night and look through it because then we'd be twinsies. Score!
Anwyay! I hope my stories made you laugh, you sick, twisted people.
You shine with a million twinkling lights.
If you were a tree, you'd have the prettiest leaves.
I hope you are all prepared for the upcoming madness and excitement that is the holiday season!