Now see here, crazystairs.
I am a very healthy person, thank you.
However, when I do get sick, it is at the absolute most inopportune time possible. Seriously, the most. It's irritating. Don't believe me? Check out my superfun bulleted list of examples. (And I mean, c'mon, who can distrust a superfun bulleted list of examples?)
- August 1999. I get sick and miss the first day of Kingergarten. As a result, I freak out and think everyone's going to hate me and have one friend until third grade.
- April 2001. I start to see double, so I tell me mom, who takes me to the eye doctor, who tells her I have a brain tumor and to get to the hospital. On Easter weekend. I throw up on my new Easter dress, but I get to live. (That was the trade-off, I've decided.)
- September 2008. First day of high school. I sleep through my first class, and go on to make everyone think I'm a total jerk by just sitting down by a tree while my group builds the tower without me in our fun-first-day-of-school-bonding-activity. I get the prize for their efforts, then head to the nurse's office. I miss the first week of school.
I haven't posted in quite a while. For that, I apologize. This entry has actually been sitting in the "entries in progress" bin for about a week; in the original post, I described each of the above situations in enormous, totally unnecessary detail (mostly the second bullet actually). Entry Version 2.0 will be less mind-blowingly boring, less mind-blowingly boringly long, and will less mind-blowingly boringly longly tell more things. (My ability to paint words is amazing, no?)
Anyway. This weekend is spring formal. I've been enlightened by almost every upperclassman friend I have that it's boring, but oddly, I want to go anyway...
I have no stories to tell at the moment. There are probably plenty I could tell, but none that I feel are necessary right about now. So you'll just have to wait for after Saturday. (I know, the suspense is killing you... sorry about that, it's a serial killer. We're thinking it has severe mental problems).
Much Love,
Anna.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Playlist
About Me
- So, basically...
- I like bright colors and loud music and people who make me laugh. I like being sarcastic and being confusing and being anyone I want to be that isn't anyone else. I like making people happy and making people think and making cupcakes and making movies. If you have my sense of humor, you've won my heart.
2 comments:
Hey there. I have been totally failing at life recently and haven't got back to anyone's comments. If it makes you feel better, you're the first one I'm commenting back!
*ducks as you throw a frying pan at me*
I've just noticed that I am the only person in the whole Blogger community whose profile picture is not one of me pouting and looking down into the camera with an artfully placed bang covering one of my eyelined eyes. I should get on that.
Anyways, your boyfriend sounds pretty awesome. I don't know if I mentioned that earlier, but here it is again. My boyfriend's name is Andrew, and one of my best friend's boyfriend's name is Andrew and she always thinks I'm talking about HER boyfriend (why on earth would I do that?) and gets all bitchy at me when I tell her, no, MY BOYFRIEND.
I'm always sick on the days that we do awesome things like watch "Braveheart" and make ice cream in science class.
I totally forgot about your brain tumor until just now. Wow. *gets my perspective on life violently shifted*
Alright, I'm going to go write an entry that's not full of self-pity now.
Love, Love, Love,
Molly
On a not-really-related-at-all topic (you're not the only one who can paint words!) I missed the first day of primary school too and then the first day I did go in was a school trip to a bread factory so I felt very confused and out of place. Probably didn't help that Mrs Pegram had some multicultural thing going on and made everyone answer the register in German. What does a 5 year-old know about "Gutentaag"?!
Well, lets just hope you never get ill again...
Molly: Alarm clocks are the new pout!
Post a Comment