Archive | August, 2013

Excuse Me, Waiter? Yes, I’m Extremely Thirsty

27 Aug

Romeo, Oh Romeo, Where art thou Romeo? Thou are getting on my damn nerves and if thou aren’t going to show up pretty soon, I’m going to start looking for some kinky lesbians (To all you kinky lesbians out there, I hope you find no offense. You all rock). With the end of the summer approaching fast and hell school starting soon, I’ve been thinking a lot about my social status. AK FREAKING A the lack of interaction I have with the male species (for those of you skeptics out there, I would rather not go in depth about the interactions I do or do not have with the male species. All I can say is, you kinky lesbians don’t have anything on me. word). From what I’ve been observing during my endeavors of the “teen angst stage”, most people my age (17) are settling down and finding their soulmates. Or else they’re settling down and getting chlamydia. Regardless, I really need to start getting serious about my relationship status. In a generally unorthodox fashion of this blog, I have no lists to make. I just need to vent about my observations and my thoughts on Love and the “teen angst stage”.

C is For Chlamydia

We’ve all heard (for the love of all things hormones, hopefully) of the famous line from Mean Girls about sex; “You will get chlamydia and you will die”. Well, I’m not going to name anyone in particular, but I do know some people who have clapped their fair share in their life, and they never even died. I am the proud owner of a bucket list actually and I must say, chlamydia isn’t on it. Or maybe it should be? It seems extremely glorified and hey, if all the kids who are settling down (or settling in tehe) are getting it, maybe I should, too? Alright so uh, if anyone has chlamydia just let me know and we can set up an appointment. What about herpes? I heard herpes is pretty popular and unlike a baby daddy, it actually stays with you. For anyone who is suffering from herpes currently, i’m sorry. I do feel for you…I’m never going to feel you, but I do feel for you. But hey, if you have herpes, you have a friend for life. In the words of Garth Brooks, You’ve got friends in low places.

H is For Homewrecking
For all you skeptics out there, I’m here to offer a disclaimer and a window into my personal life. Have I been “the other woman”? Yes. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Do I still enjoy it? Yes. Do I feel guilty? No. No I don’t. I’ve been on both sides of the fence I guess. I’ve been the girlfriend who found out her boyfriend was cheating and was devastated. I’ve been the girlfriend who’s been completely blindsided that my boyfriend had his own booty call for the whole relationship. I’ve also been the booty call, the homewrecker, whatever you want to call it. I’ve been the “other girlfriend” without knowing it and I’ve been led on. In my situation, never give the man the ultimatum of “it’s me or the girlfriend”. He almost ALWAYS picks the girlfriend. Strange, huh? Throughout all of my dating life, I have never, nor will I EVER cheat when I am (god bless that day) in a relationship. I take my personal commitments seriously and going against that myself would be devastating to me. But also, there are two different types of “other women”. Those who seek and those who are sought out. I can swear on my cats that I have never sought out a man who has a girlfriend, they come to me. When approached with these types of situations, I have to ask myself how much I respect this person or what I feel for the “girlfriend”. My philosophy?
It’s not homewrecking if the “home” is renting out it’s bedrooms”
Simple as that. It is not my problem that you have a low life boyfriend, it is not my problem that you are having relationship problems and can’t hold on to your man. In my case, I could be doing you a favor. Your boyfriend will either dump you, feel guilty and love you or feel guilty, dump you and fall madly in love with me. I have yet to experience the third option. Ladies, lose respect for me if you want. Yolo. I prefer swapping the term “homewrecking” with “living vicariously through other peoples relationships”. But whilst LVTOPR, it can come with some “side effects” and it’s often unpleasant. Now to those of you who are going to judge this, ask yourself this; did I ever define cheating, homewrecking, being the other woman? No. Come to whatever conclusions you want about those. Have any questions? Feel free to ask me! Cheating isn’t just physical, remember that.
S is For Student Teachers
Ever single year since kindergarten (okay, maybe not that far back) I have always hoped and prayed to all things Oprah to have an attractive student teacher introduced into class. Throughout my years of schooling, I’ve had yet to have a mildly attractive student teacher (Okay, I actually had this really awesome student teacher in 7th grade and he was AWESOME but he was more like an influential figure in my life and influential figures never have appearance factors added in). Like, is it to much to ask for? I’ve been a member of the public school system for 12 years of my life and they can’t even be respectful enough to provide some eye candy? Shameful. Just shameful. In experience this whole “teen angst stage” thing, I’ve realized the older the target is, the better. In that case, an elderly couple just moved in and I heard the husband has a really fast power scooter. Vroom. Vroom.
T is For Thirsty
Excuse me, waiter? Yes, i’m quite thirsty. Would you mind taking off your shirt? For those of you out there who aren’t familiar with the term “thirsty”, let me inform you. Along with the word “angst”, I’ve learned that “thirsty” (as well as THURSTY) is quite popular. Here is a definition from our good friend, Urban Dictionary.

To crave attention. Trying to talk to the opposite sex (most likely)
Like if a girl/guy like someone they try wayyy to hard to talk to them when the person isn’t giving them the time of day
R is For Requirements
I require a lot of work. I myself am not high maintenance, but my needs themselves are high maintenance. I require attention. So for all you feisty 17+ year old men out there, get at me. I’ve put together a good resume of myself that will really seal the deal on why i’m an optimal choice for a girlfriend. Gosh i’m just awesome.
  • I’m really good at taking selfies, so you’ll never run out of phone wallpapers. I. got. you. covered.
  • Cuddling is my thing, I will cuddle you so hard.
  • Most of the sweatshirts I wear are 7 sizes too big for me anyways, so you never have to worry about me stealing yours to wear.
  • You never have to worry use not being able to communicate because i’m available on the following apps and social media websites: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, WordPress, Voxer, Instagram, Vine, Keek, Song Pop,, Intellius, Snapchat, Skype and good ol’ texting. You’ll never have to worry about not being able to get ahold of me.
  • I like to eat. End of story.
  • I might not have boobs, but I can make a really good sandwhich.
  • Twerking is my think so if we ever go clubbing, no need to keep your dick In a box.
  • I’m really good at talking dirty, sometimes I even do it while i’m doing pig chores.
  • Compassionate to cats almost as much as I would be to you.

If none of those reasons compel you to love me, I don’t know what will. Check your standards because I’m fucking awesome.

Ladies, remember, hold on to you men. Men, if you have money and would like to spend it, I”m here. I will leave you with a homemade quote that I’ve learned about love and things of that nature.
“Love is not warm, fuzzy or romantic. Love is being able to look your partner in they eye after you get your period blood on the couch and proceed to watch Teen Mom

My Open Letter To Life

20 Aug

I recently saw a post on my reader that talked about “open letters”. The purpose of an open letter is to let go of old demons, establish closure and talk about your problems with yourself. You can write open letters on many different mediums (blogs, facebook posts, ‘ol paper and pencil, smoke signals, etc.) and they can prove to be very effective. I’ve read quite a few in my life and I have to say they can be extremely powerful things. Many people criticize the The Art of the Open Letter and deem it as a way to gain attention (AKA what most people in my generation label as “thirsty”).

I’m generally not a very emotional person, to be honest. I prefer to mask emotions with two things; laughter or awkwardness. Who doesn’t like laughter? I learned at a very early age that it’s never okay to cry to show weakness, laugh it off and keep that shit rolling.

“The best comedians are those with the most messed up life”

So i’m going a little unorthodox in the general style of the ‘ol blog and NOT write a list, bullet points or anything organized in the least. I try not to complain about life and the things it shoves at me very often, but everyone needs to let go once in awhile. So heads up to those reading, this is going to be about ME. If you don’t like reading about pity parties, sob stories or emotions, this is NOT the post for you. If you go to my home page, you’ll find some really great cat pictures somewhere in various posts. To those of you who are not pro open-letter:Go roll a joint full of rat poisoning and smoke it. Make some meth cookies while your at it. Your opinion is irrelevant to my life. So, here it goes. This, is my open letter to life.

Dear Life,

I’ve never quite understood “you”. I put “you” lightly because I don’t exactly know what “you” are. Are you a person? Who is your mom? We all have moms. Well, some of us don’t. Dear life, why do you take away some peoples moms? It really sucks to say the least. No one deserves to have their mom taken away. Its hard to watch someone you love go through that. What did they ever do to you to have their mom taken away? That my friend, is a really mean thing you sick bastard. Let’s take away your mom and see how you like it. But we (I say “we” loosely because I’m pretty sure I stand alone on this subject matter) can’t take away you mom but we have morals. Dear life, what did I do to you to hate me? Did I shit in your cereal? Did I steal your toy at recess? I’ve always tried to be a nice person but god damn (god is a whole different story…sorry god), you make things really difficult. I’ve become great at wearing masks and painting pictures of perfect scenarios that fly through my head. I laugh things off because crying would be out of the question. What else was little me supposed to do? My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this; I was supposed to be a normal child who acts like the rest of them. Perfect mind, perfect body and a pure soul. People tell me I have an “old soul”. Whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, I just hope it doesn’t mean my soul is wrinkly. Gross.

I was standing in the elevator and I got to bring a friend. Half the kids laughed because only the “special kids” took the elevator and half the kids were enamored with the fact I was riding the elevator. Wait, was it bad to be “special”? I thought everyone is special? Am I not special enough or am I TOO special? I got these pills and these shots, cool physical therapy doctors and some stretchy band. I guess only the “special” kids got them. Am I flawed? Is it wrong to be the way I am? It kind of sucks. I dislocated my finger trying my shoe, my elbow popped out of place when I reached back to turn off the shower and I wear slippers to school because my feet hurt too bad to wear shoes. I take these shots. They’re supposed to not make me sick but in all reality I puke, lose my hair and can’t be near pregnant people. That’s cool. Nothing got better, nothing gets better and I’m still “special”. Life, I’ve been around for a good chunk of time and I decided to give up on the shots and pills and stretchy bands. You know why that sucks life? Because I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.

Freshman year is a scary time. A really scary time. Armpits smell weird, vaginas are a hot commodity and wearing floss up your ass is totally a social norm. I was scared, I was confused and I clung to whatever could get me through the scary time. Life, you were throwing a lot of stuff at me. Life, you made my sister sick and almost let her die. Taking away a cat, is a bitch move. Taking away someone’s mom is unbearable but trying to take away someone’s sister? Now that’s just a straight up dick move. Don’t do that again, kay thanks. Do you know what else is mean? Taking something away that shouldn’t be taken away. Life, letting something like that slide is not cool. But do you know what life? It’s okay, I took the blame for things you should have stopped. I still suffer the consequences of what you did every single day and you don’t even care. Life, you changed me for forever and I’ll probably never forgive you for that. Thanks for keeping my sister though, that was pretty nice of you I have to admit. Life, freshman year was a scary time and I’m still mad at you that you didn’t help me.

Music is cool. What kind of music do you like, life? I love music. I want to teach people music. That’s what I wanna be when I grow up, life. I want to be a music teacher. Teachers are really strange people, ya know? Do you think I will end up like one of them? I don’t want to end up wearing knee-length jeans skirts and wreak of coffee breath, no thanks. Life, I had this really cool teacher once. I loved that teacher. Not one of those weird, illegal kinds of love, but a love as in “hey-I-love-you-because-you’re-my-role-model”. Do you know what you did though, life? You let them leave. You let other people bully them out of leaving. Life, I don’t understand why you’re so possessive over your people. Sheesh. Do you know what that did? That left a hole in my life. Have you ever lost a role model, life? Is that why you did it? Did someone leave you? If so, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry actually because I know how much it hurts. But it’s okay life, I found a new role model. I loved them a lot, too. We were close and I trusted them with my life. Life, you would have really liked them. You would have never guessed what happened though! My role model left me, life. My role model hurt me. I cried a lot. I cried in the bathroom, clinging to the dirty floor because I was afraid it was gonna be the last thing I touched. Why did you let that happen life? I cried, I was sad and lost my passion for living. Life, I’m still mad at you because you let me lay on the bathroom floor and cry.

Life, has anyone told you they didn’t like you? Usually I ignore people who say they don’t like me. I was taught that those people aren’t worth your time. You know what is worth your time though, life? Living. Living is most definitely worth it, or else you’d be dead. Has anyone ever told you to die, life? It hurts. It hurts a lot to say the least. There’s moments when you ask yourself if you should listen to those people. Sticks and stones break your bones and hurt, but words stay branded in your brain for life. I remember the first time I was told I wasn’t pretty enough. Boys can’t judge what’s pretty, right? Aren’t boys like, colorblind? I remember the first time called me a degrading name. I listen to those same words in music, but I didn’t think it would happen to me. A bruise hurts, I’ve had those before. Purple, blue and yellow. Then it gets itchy sometimes because it’s “healing”.  When am I gonna feel “itchy”? I’ve waited for the colors to change.. Why did you let that happen, life? Did a boy call you ugly? Did a girl call you ugly? If so, I’m really sorry but it’s not a good excuse to let it happen to me. Life, i’m still mad at you for letting them brand my brain.

I’ve learned to be a really good painter, did I tell you that? I can paint happy, sad, excited, nervous and sometimes even no expression at all. Life, I’ve gotten really good at painting faces. Life, do you wear a mask? Just kidding! That’s a silly question to ask. I’ve never seen you before, so you must wear a whole different mask of your own. Do you paint happy pictures? It doesn’t seem like you do. You paint gray skies, sharp mountains and even lower valleys. You paint little raindrops that form tears, feelings that make themselves into cuts and scrapes and scenarios that turn angry. Do you like that? I think they have words for people like you, but I can’t exactly spell them. So if you’re one of those people, stop. Do you need to borrow a mask ever? I have an extra in my pocket if you’d like to borrow it. I put it on when people laugh at me. My mask has gotten so good at laughing on it’s own, I don’t even have to try anyone. My mask has gotten so routine it doesn’t even come off of my face sometimes. Life, did you glue my mask on my face? If so, it’s not  very funny. No one ever asks me to take off my mask though. I feel like people always ask if my mask is okay with things and my mask lies for me. One of these days life, I’m gonna rip that mask of and say it’s not okay. The mask has become a people pleaser, which is weird because, that’s not who I am? Isn’t that strange, life? I wish people would be considerate of my feelings sometimes. Life, why did you give me  a paintbrush? I don’t think we can be friends anymore life… I’m sorry.

Feelings are really strange things, huh? Do you have feelings life? Wait.. Is that too personal to ask? I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, I hope you’re not going to be mad. Everyone has feelings though, right? Right? Sometimes I wish feelings didn’t exist. Well, then I couldn’t love my cats. Okay, sometimes I wish every feeling besides loving your cat would disappear. Sometimes I lie and say I’m feeling nothing at all. Is it okay to feel for something that doesn’t feel for you back? What if they don’t have feelings at all? I know some hollow people and I don’t know how they live my life. Everyone tells me to stay away from hollow people because they are no good. For some reason I keep on gravitating to all of the hollow people, hoping that feelings will fill up their holes, too. Like a tree, ya know? Life, do you think that can happen to people? Do you think people’s holes will fill up like tree’s fill up with critters? Or like McDonalds fills up with fast food junkies? Life, do you think it could happen? I really wish that would happen. For now I’m going to try to stay away from all of these hollow people. I think I found out why feelings people like hollow people. Hollow people are like those little cubbies from pre-school. I’d put my backpack in the cubby for most of the day until it was time to leave and the cubby wouldn’t feel any sadness. My backpack would feel really sad though. I am like my backpack and hollow people are like the cubbies; I put my backpack in the cubby when I need to and take it out when I have to. I feel sad like my backpack, but the cubby just sits there and acts like a cubby. Do cubbies have feeling, life? I sure hope so, cubbies are so cool. Life, do you have hollow people? I just want to be loved by hollow people. I just want to be loved by hollow people, is that so wrong life? I’m not going to ever understand why you made backpacks and cubbies, life. I’m just not.

Life, I really don’t understand you and I’m not going to ever try. I’m never going to try to forgive you because I should be allowed to be bitter. Is that so wrong, life? Is it so fucking wrong that I’m not laughing off all of your feelings? I don’t want to laugh all of the time, I’m done painting and I’m done waiting for my bruises to turn itchy. Life, you’re always going to be a giant jerk to me and I’m never going to forgive you. Do you know what the funniest thing of this whole thing is? I don’t even know if you’re listening to me life. I can’t even tell if you’re even a real “you”. Life, you can go suck a big one because I’m done trying to be nice to you.

Dear life, you’ve really thrown me through a loop. But you know what? Thank you for making me the wrinkly old soul. Thank you for making me the “special” kid in the elevator. Thank you so much for stealing things away from me. Thank you for letting me cry on the bathroom floor and letting all those kids tell me to die. Thank you for not letting my bruises ever get itchy. Thank you for making me a brilliant painter. Thank you for making me a backpack and letting me find useless cubbies.

Life, thank you giving me inspiration to wrinkle my soul and stay special, cry on the floor and wait for my bruises to get itchy and to someday find another backpack just like me.

Best Wishes,

Bella Schaefer

If You Can’t Handle My Crocs, You Don’t Deserve Me At My Hump-Me Pumps

17 Aug

I’ve heard the saying “If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best”. I’ve also heard “If you can’t handle me at my Amanda Bynes, then you don’t deserve me at Beyoncé”. I feel like this is extremely applicable to my life, except it’s seldom that I actually live by this. But, that is what makes me who I am and for that, I am content.

In the general theme of the ‘ol blog, I’ve come up with a list of things that people need to deal with before they decide to enter my life. So if you’ve been admiring from afar, here is a list of things that will most definitely make you admire from even further. Enjoy!

My Love For Degrading and Deplorable Music ♥

“Together We Are A Powerful Force As One Mind, Body, And Soul.

Let No Evil Nor Attempt To Reduce Us Becuz Of Tha Beliefs We Hold.

And With This Love, Combined With Our Strength, We Ward Off Pain And Stress.

TECHNICIAN I Am Wholeheartedly In LIFE And In DEATH.”

If you don’t know what that is, then I suggest you do some googling before we can establish contact. Some days I have the playlist of a depressed white girl who needs a Prozac shake. Some days I have the playlist of a hay-bailing, overall-bearing farmer. Most days I have the playlist of a gender degrading drug dealer who snorts lines off of other peoples bellybuttons. How can you live with yourself do you ask? It’s simple. I breathe, blink and eat occasionally while trying to manage 8 hours of sleep a night. T-Swizzle has really never been “my thing”. After a stressful day, I prefer to put my earphones in and listen to the most degrading, ass-clappin good music I can find. I mean, I do enjoy people like Mumford and Sons and Bon Iver plenty, but I will always be loyal to Tech and Tupac. Wanna win me over with a love song? Skip that. Wanna know what would really win me over? Play the song “My Wife, My Bitch, My Girl” outside my window. I’ll be yours for life. ♥

Cats On Cats On Cats

Self explanatory. Nothing comes between me and the love I have for felines. Want to really impress me? Cat sweaters. Cat sweaters for days. Enough said.

This is just so great.

This is just so great.

This one is great, too.

This one is great, too.

This one is the best.

This one is the best.

Excessive Amounts Of Luggage

Now if you are actually mistaking this portion of the list for actual luggage, HA. HAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHAH. You rock. Let’s just keep it that way and go with that; I have a lot of luggage. Unfortunately for my own self, I have a lot of baggage. Whether the baggage be emotional or physical, I have a lot. (If I had a much boob as I had baggage…boy i’d have a world record. Sigh. One can only hope) Generally I give people a little forewarning like, HEY IM REALLY CRAZY AND BIPOLAR EVEN TWO SECONDS…THAT COOL? I feel like people never really listen to the little asterisk I give them and then blame me for being crazy after the fact they finally realized it. So here you go…

*Warning, the person you’re about to experience is subject, but not limited to the following symptoms: Mood swings, social awkwardness, needy behavior, meowing when under pressure, excessive crying, binge eating, bagel eating and the occasional accusatory statement. Please handle person with care. You have been warned.*

I wish my baggage adhered to the fifty pound weight limit.

I wish my baggage adhered to the fifty pound weight limit.

Crocs. Crocs For Days.

To be quite honest, I don’t understand why these got such a bad reputation. I think they are absolutely splendid. They come in about a billion quadrillion different colors and have built in air conditioning, not to mention that they’re extremely comfortable. If you cannot handle me at my crocs, you don’t deserve me at my hump-me pumps. Personally, I would much rather wear crocs. I’d like to think that since society has unspokenly banned crocs, I’m a hipster by bringing them back. (I also heard that if you say you’re a hipster, you’re not a hipster. Well. It was nice while it lasted) Moral of the story, I think i’m going to be wearing crocs to prom.

Proper Grammar

thats the shit I do like. i actually really do like proper grammar. if youve been a frequent reader of this blog please dont judge me if me grammar aint always good. my sorries. but I mean lets be real here. no one likes texting a complete idiot. its dumb. just dumb. plus there is nothing cute and alluring about someone who cant find the right form of youre. gets youre yours right people. oh and youre theirs. thats really annoying. you know what else is annoying……..when people dont use punctuation. that makes me mad a lot. just like no stop please now. how does it feel to read this whole thing. i bet it sucks yeah. so if yur gonna talk to me at least talk to me, at least talk to me like a normal fucking human being with a formal education. Okay? Good, glad we got that cleared up.

Well, if you’ve finished reading all of this (or at least skimmed through..jerk) props to you! So if you’re one of the five people who actually read the ‘ol blog, hit me up if you find my cat obsession and croc addiction attractive. I’ll be waiting. Like always. 24/7365. Fax me, call me, text me, mores code me, smoke signal me, telegram me, vine me, instagram me or you know, whatever works. It’s cool. I’ll be waiting.

“We accept the love we think we deserve”

That quote holds a lot of meaning and it really does speak volume about each persons self-worth (or the worth they think they hold). Do what makes you happy, love what feels right and never settle for clearance (Unless what you love is having sex with dead bodies. Then stop loving that).

In the general fashion of this blog, I’ll leave you with a home-made quote to help you with your woes.

“If the person you love doesn’t capitalize your name whilst texting, it’s not meant to be”

They Never Told Me What A Vagina Was At School (I Still Don’t Know)

9 Aug

Do you know where the saying “the birds and the bees” comes from? Whether or not you wanted to know, I’m going to tell you anyways.

The birds and the bees” is an English-language idiomatic expression that refers to courtship and sexual intercourse, and is usually used in reference to teaching someone, often a young child, about sex and pregnancy. The phrase is evocative of the metaphors and euphemisms often used to avoid speaking openly and technically about the subject.

According to tradition, the birds and the bees is a metaphorical story sometimes told to children in an attempt to explain the mechanics and good consequences of sexual intercourse through reference to easily observed natural events. For instance, bees carry and deposit pollen into flowers, a visible and easy-to-explain example of male fertilisation. Another example, birds lay eggs, a similarly visible and easy-to-explain example of female ovulation.”

You see, what no one ever explains to you is that the birds and the bees never actually have sex with each other. I was under the impression this whole time that the bee is the uh…giver and the bird is the quote and quote “taker” (to be honest, I never understood where the bird would “take it”. I mean, I know where our thanksgiving turkey takes his stuffing…).  No one ever tells you what the bird or the bee symbolizes. Here I was thinking that there is some horny bee out there looking to stick all of these innocent looking little birds. I guess i really never put the whole “pregnancy” aspect into the equation because birds clearly lay eggs and bees just make honey (well according to the birds and the bees, the bees are  getting all the damn flowers pregnant. Sluts). What I’m trying to get at here is quite simply this: Who DOES explain to you what the birds and the bees are if you’re taking your parents out of the equation? I mean, what if you don’t have parents? Where did little orphan Annie learn about sex?? Who was there to guide her through life so she didn’t end up having a lot of little orphan Arnold’s?

In 7th grade we had the dreaded “maturation talk”. What a joyous, hormone-laden period of my life that was (well I wasn’t experiencing my teen angst stage at that point so all I had to rely on was my hormones). I remember our normal FACS (family and consumer science) teacher was out on maternity leave and we had the long-term sub there to teach all about the joys of said “birds and bees”. I remember going into class and getting a large, wordy packet but not being able to turn it over because “the boys were in the room and there were things on the packet they couldn’t see”. Let’s be real here. If you’re telling me that a 7th grade boy has never seen a good boob or two in their life, you’ve cat to be kitten me. The teacher had one of the male gym teachers come in and escort all of the boys to a separate room while all of the females stayed in the FACS room. From that moment on, I’ve never had a more mortifying experience in my life. I was confused the whole time, wanted to ask questions but couldn’t for fear of public smiting.

Our teacher was a youngin, early twenties maybe? She had a cute little powerpoint to give us insight into our “ever so blossoming bodies”. Sure, for some girls they were “blossoming”. Were boobs supposed to happen then? If so, i’m still waiting. Anyways, i’m sitting in class anxious to flip over this packet and get venturing into sex and boobs and uteruses (is that the plural form? Uteruses? Or is it uterusi?) and I am let down. Not just let down, i’m pretty sure my anxious little ovaries even sighed in unison. This teacher (who shall remain un-named) didn’t even MENTION sex or boobs or uteruses. When a picture popped up on the screen, she would “point” to it and say “And THAT is what will happen to your…THAT. When your older you’ll use THIS to touch THAT”. She might as well have said if you touch your THAT to THAT you will get chlamydia and you will die. BUT WAIT! I didn’t learn what chlamydia was until 10th grade (before you make any assumptions, I didn’t learn it by personal experience. Harry Walsh, an 80 something sex educator, made damn sure we all knew the life threatening properties of chlamydia. Thanks, Harry. I owe you one) so thank god someone taught me. Later on in the packet we had to do a picture and word bank match up. I would like you to take a moment and imagine something, just do it.

Little innocent Bella has no inkling as to how a vagina and an ovary are any different. The teacher comes over and asks what’s wrong and Bella responds with “Well, I don’t know what THAT or THAT even are, besides the fact that they’re not supposed to touch!!!

Parents, don’t rely on the school system to educate your children about sex and maturation. I had to learn it all on my own through school. I think I turned out pretty well.  I’m pretty sure my penis is different from all the other girls out there and my friend told me that one day my uterus will eat my testicles. See, I learned just fine on my own.

To this day, I still never finished the packet, I never grew boobs and I never learned what a vagina is. Hell, I still don’t know.

I’m Coming Out And I Hope You Can All Support Me

8 Aug

Hello everyone. I recently have found out I haven’t been acting like “normal” teenagers lately and I finally know why.

I haven’t experienced my “teen angst stage” thing and I’ve decided I’m going to try it. So please support me as I go through this as it is not an easy feat. Thank you all for your support. (Not what you were expecting, eh?)

Well, looks like it’s been awhile since I’ve dabbled in the blog world. I really haven’t been up to much. Just the usual eat, sleep, play with cats, act awkward and try to live up to this whole “teen angst stage” thing. It’s actually been going quite well! I’ve been trying to insert the Effenheimer into every sentence I can, coloring my hair all different shades of the rainbow and I even pierced my bellybutton with a safety pin. Whoever said you can get infections from at-home piercings is clearly lying…This green stuff coming out of my bellybutton doesn’t even smell funny.

*Disclaimer: Part of this whole “teen angst stage” thing is partaking in lying and sarcasm. Am I doing a good job yet?*

I actually have been thinking about the life teenagers and the thoughts I have conjured up are pretty intriguing I think. Shit. Do teenagers in the “teen angst stage” thing use complex verbs and adjectives? No. No they don’t because school is dumb and words are dumb, too. Shit. Do teenagers in the “teen angst stage” use proper grammar? duh no they don’t why am I acting so smart being smart is for stupid persons. duh.

In the general fashion of this blog, I’ve thought up a list of things I could do to further my journey into this whole “teen angst stage” and what I really think of these “teen angst stage” things. so enjoy this list yeah.

“Cute” Dinosaurs

No, i'm pretty sure this dyslexic "Rawr" means get the fuck out of the way because i'm about to eat your face off.

No, i’m pretty sure this dyslexic “Rawr” means get the fuck out of the way because i’m about to eat your face off.

ISN’T THIS JUST ADORABLE? I can’t think of a better way to express my undying teenage love than to draw cute little dinosaurs and making a cute message out of their dyslexic battle cry. I mean let’s be real, from what I’ve observed out of this whole “teen angst stage”, nothing has to be realistic. But this is TOTES REALISTIC. Back when dinosaurs were alive in like, the 1800’s, they said I love you to each other all the time. I just don’t really understand where all these teenagers learn to speak dinosaur? I mean, I speak whale so I guess that’s the same? So I’ve decided that to truly fit into my “teen angst stage” thing, i’m going to be drawing all of my friends cute little dinosaurs to tell them I love them.

Is green the new blue? Is it an ambiguous dinosaur couple? Like, no. Just no.

Yeah, this is cute. So are bagels.

Facial Piercings

WHO DOESN’T LIKE SHOVING NEEDLES IN THEIR FACE??????? I’ve recently been observing teens in their natural “teen angst stage” thing habitat (the mall) and this “facial piercing” craze is VERY POPULAR! Did you know you can fit a hole the size of a football in your ear lobe? OR did you know that you can pierce your nose like a bull and still manage to have rings in your nostrils? I’m in awe of these people. WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE BEST PART OF IT ALL IS? They did all these splendid piercings themselves!!!!!!!! (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) So fantastic. Just so fantastic. I can’t even fathom how wonderful this is. So in class nature of this whole “teen angst stage” I’ve decided I’m going to take up this next body altering project…

I think her makeup looks quite fetch.

I think her makeup looks quite fetch.

Long, Shaggy “Sk8r Boi” Hair

This could be quite challenging because I have a REALLY tricky part in my hair and the “comb-over” thing might not work out for my hair so well. But I’m going to try it! While I was observing other teens with the facial piercings I also noticed that they have such a different…style of hair. It’s one part greasy, one part lice, one part hat hair and four parts rebellion. So later today I’m going to go to the store and pick up some crisco and go to the daycare down the street and see what I can find for grease and lice! I’m so excited I can’t even contain myself. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I’m hoping to look like this after the transformation…

I'm not sure how easy this is to fishtail...

I’m not sure how easy this is to fishtail…

Boobies Bracelets

THANK ALL THINGS HOLY, I ALREADY OWN ONE OF THESE!!!!!!!! I’m so excited to wear my bracelet with pride after my transformation. At school whenever all of the angsty kids used to wear these, teachers and other authority figures would always confiscate them. Which I never understood because technically, it’s supporting a good cause. Boobies, breasts, knockers, nunga-nungas; they’re all the same body part.

Her face says it's so wrong but inside she knows it's so right.

Her face says it’s so wrong but inside she knows it’s so right.

Club Penguin

Unfortunately I have already experimented with Club Penguin but due to my attempt at this whole “teen angst stage” I got suspended for swearing. Who the hell would have thought that would happen? I sure as hell thought it was one giant crock of shit…Freedom of speech my ass. But I think I’m going to register for a new account on a different email. Teenagers think club penguin is ALL THE RAGE. I’m so excited.

This shit is so fun.

This shit is so fun.

If you’ve made it to the end of this, thank you. I really hope this new journey takes me far and hopefully I can gain new friends from it!

If you’re questioning whether or not you should try to dabble in your “teen angst stage” thing, here is a homemade quote to help you decide:

“Angst is just a acceptable label for being perpetually angry. Use it to your advantage.”

Maisy's Mom

Dirty Diapers, Crafts and Soul Searching (But mostly diapers)

Just a dreaming teenage wallflower

If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough

Matt on Not-WordPress

Stuff and things.