There are many great trilogies.

This is not one of them…

(Because it’s not great, or a trilogy)

This story has too many sub-headings.

It is probably because Jaryd is a fag.

 

 

 

Authors for word:  Due to attempting to be organized and plan things in advance I planned to skip art and do my biology assignment, (the colossal bitch) but since I was trying to be organized, this plan blew up in my face. The school service crashed. Due to the irony, I took this as a sign, and now I sit in art writing the introduction, as when I arrive to my abode I will right THE LONG AWAIT TRIQUEL…

 

 

 

 

Last time we checked with our hero’s they were speeding away in the bat mobile to a previously unknown destination: not to a chess tournament of course, because Jaryd is afraid of chess as it rapes him in the face.  He’s also scared of Indian men with flippy moustaches that come out and attack you at chess tournaments. But it’s okay because he Pwns retards and the mentally disabled at chess tournaments. (His email is stealing-peoples-mail@hotmail.com.  Send him hatemail NOW.)

 

However, the fabulous four, or the soap cart few encountered some problems on the way to their destination, which is yet to be revealed.

These problems were none of the mental category, surprisingly.

They ran out of fuel.

 

How does one in a bat mobile get fuel you ask?

Forget petrol stations, hero’s in the bat mobile get petrol from the governments secret reserve. It’s right along the secret compartment of banana’s in the capitalist’s lounge. See, it’s extremely complicated to get into the lounge… but anyway. It was ironic enough that since none of the passengers actually owned the bat mobile, no one knew about the government’s lounge, or indeed their secret bananas.

 

On the other hand readers, forget you read any of that. This is a poor excuse of a distraction. Hey look! A bear!

 

 

Not so long ago, on a planet not so far away…

The harsh sun beat down on four figures trudging their way through the sand in the middle of day.  The sand seemed to sizzle beneath their feet as the sweat dripping from each one of their pores hit the ground. Slowly they continued up and down the dunes.

 

“How long have we been walking for?” questioned Flump.

“About five minutes” replied Dee.

“Where the hell are we?” asked Jaryd.

“Fecked it I kno….” Started to reply Laura when she was interrupted by what appeared to be an orange stick dressed in a bring pink tutu, contorting a grimace of what seemed to be sheer constipation.

“YOU’RE ON THE SIMPLE LIFE!” shrieked the figure giggling.

The four of them stopped in their tracks. They had run into, the one, the only (and thank god for that) PARIS HILTON.

“HOLY SHIT. HOW MANY SEASONS ARE THEIR?” asked Laura, sinking to her knees, being blinded by a glimpse of that peroxided hair.

“It’s the 64B” replied Paris, as a five year old would.

“Errr… B isn’t a number” replied Michael Adams.

“QUITE YOU. OFF WITH HIS HEAD” shrieked Paris again, her day glo skin wrinkling horridly.

 

They awaited something. Anyhing.

 

“Errr….” Flump started again.

“SHUT UP. THEY ABANDONED ME. ALL OF THEM. OH MY GOD. MY KNIGHTS. AND MY CARDS. LIKE IN ALICE IN WONDERLAND. I’M NOT ALICE. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD!” she screamed, sinking into the dust. At that point Laura picked herself up, realising what level she had sunk to, and brushed her potato sack off. They started conversing between the four of them.

“I’m guessing it’s E” said Dee throwing a side glance at Paris.

“No, it’s crystal meth. Look at her” said Flump.

“Nah. Heroin. I’m the expert here” said Laura throwing her nose up in the air (and catching it of course). No one question how she did this. Instead they watched Jaryd intently as he crouched down, and handed Paris a flask of bleach.

“JARYD, NOW ISN’T THE TIME TO BE DEALING, FAG” yelled Laura. He started talking in low clicks, and murmurs, what he called ‘his’ language (as he’s so high and mighty and all)  A few minutes later, he stood up again, and announced ‘We’re in Iraq’

No one asked how Paris spoke Jaryd. It’s probably because Paris has slept with anyone. Even Jaryd.

“IRAQ. OH MY GOD. If the American’s haven’t taken all the oil, this is FANTASTIC!” Laura said jumping up and down.

“All we have to do. It dig down.”

“But with what?”

They all slowly turned to face Paris, and her stick like body, with a shovel like head and grinned sadistically.

 

**********************************88888

(We didn’t have enough money left over to fill in that gap, so instead we used 8’s. It could have been worse. I could have used binary. Lyke 0001 01010 00110.)

 

A few hours later, the four arrived to their ACTUAL destination of Braunau, Austria, the actual real birth place of Hitler. Hawthorne Heights was streaming loudly from the house on top of the hill.

“OH MY GOD. THE DEPRESSION” yelled the four of them, covering their ears, rolling on the ground as soon as they stepped out of the bat mobile.

“THE EMONESS” said Laura, taking a stab at Ryan for calling her a narc.

“This is definitely the home of the NAZI KID” –dun dun duuuuuuun-

Suddenly, fifty ninjas jumped out of the artificial obviously fake bushes. They all had ear plugs in, obviously not being affective by the incredibly emotive music playing the the background. The spear tackled the two boys and impregnated the girls with lightening bolts. But it didn’t work because they were both wearing wooden underwear and electricity doesn’t penetrate wood.

 

(At this point I must stab myself in the head. Wooden underwear? WHAT THE FUCK. Anyway)

 

Then, out of the blue (the sky of course, as the sky is blue) TWO PARACHUTED MASKED WARRIORS LANDED AND DEFEATED THE NINJAS.

They took of their masks.

AND THEY WERE.

THE AWESOME.

TALEAH AND KATEH!

 

“Oh my god! YOU SAVED US! YAY!” rushed Laura and Jaryd to greet them and knock them unconscious with multiple hugs. Flump and Dee didn’t know who they were so they just somehow became immune to Hawthorne Heights and it’s emoness. EMO EMO EMO. HAWTHORNE HEIGHTS IS EMO. TAKE THAT RYAN. I’LL SHOW YOU CALLING ME A NARC!

 

“It’s judgement day” spoke Flump with all seriousness.

And then… they walked up the the house.

AND KICKED THE DOOR DOWN.

And then… Laura had to go do some school work.

But she’ll continue one day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEWARE OF THE WEIRD BLOG ENTRY…

-CONTENTS MAY SHOCK SOME VIEWERS IF THEY ARE STUPID-

-CRAP. I STILL HAVE SUPERGLUE ON MY HANDS-

 

 

The room is dark. I’m wearing my chuck combat boots pacing around the room. You’re tied to a chair (and I’ll tell you right now that this is NOT a cyber)

“So, you wanted an update, you Zucchini munching faggot?  WELL YOU’RE GOING TO GET ONE.”

But just not a proper one.

 

Because this is what has happened to me during the past four days.... (YOU’RE GOING TO HEAR ABOUT IT DAMN IT)

I have had 12 cups of coffee.

I have worked 32 hours.

I have counted over 60 000 items during stock takes, including 5 407 gift cards.

I have contracted a disorder where I randomly started counting things.

I have dealt with countless fucking bogans. I mean customers…

I have had about ten hours sleep.

I have gotten up at four each morning.

I have moves one gazillion kilos.

I have devoured about 14 painkillers.

I want to die.

 

Kill me.

Put me out of my misery.

 

BUT… THANKFULLY I’M GOING TO GET BETTER BECAUSE I’M GETTING A BIG, FAT, PAYCHECK.

 

HAHA. LOOK AT THAT ANIMATION (I’m too easily distracted)

 

Now, for more adventures of the soap cart few. Since I’m barely sober, this adventure starts like THIS.

 

HIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

 

(And I’m going to write it as a play BECAUSE it’s my story and I CAN dammnit…)

 

Me: ZOMG. I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT I WROTE IN THE LAST SOTRY BECAUSE I CANT REMMEBER WHAT I WROTE RPEVEIOSLY. OH NOEEEES!!!1111ONE… ONE… I’m incoherent now. Fuck you caps lock. OH MY GOD.

 

Jaryd; YOU WHORE. –insert lame insult about me being a whore here because Jaryd is a fag- GIVE ME BACK MY BLEACH AND MY CRACK AND ALL MY NARCOTICS.;

 

Flump: -something concerning something intelligent here- I CAN SPEAK VOGAN. HUZZAQ.

 

Dee: I think Laura’s twisted our personallites because she’s half drugeeged and hungry and needs sleep so she’s made us weird.

 

I then turn Dee’s characteruisstcis into a pedophile. Ooops.

 =D

 

Then I draw a diagram because I want to make this a picture book. With only one diagram because I’m tired.

 

 

I don’t care if this offends anyone, especially you guspacio and sir gustove whats his face. With the moustache. HE WAS ALWAYS A SHIFTY ONE.

 

=SD

 

 

 

 

I WILL actually write the real adventures continued one day.

Hhaa. Look at all the spelling errors.

 

Me: ZOMG. THIS WAS THE WORST ENTRY EVER –insert French obscene language in relation to a tabby cat raping a horse-

 

Jaryd: MORE BLEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 <3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3 <4… EAT EMO SPAM WHORE.

 

Flump: YAY. HITCHHIKERS GUIDE IS GOOD LAURA =D IT IS FLUMP, I LOVE IT SO. =D

 

Ryan: HEYY… SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT RYAN AND ALAINNA BECAUSE I WAS SO WRAPPED UP IN MAKING JARYD LOOJK LIKE A FAG. Not that that’s hard work.

 

Dee: Laura. I’m not being sewen in public wwiht you ever. And I like Dee =)

 

 

I don’t know if all of that was all in third person.

 

I’m sorry if ANYONE got offended by this.

Acutally no. I hate you all. You’re all soft cocked pansies. WHO GETS OFFENDED BY A BLOG ENTRY? LIVE WITHIT YOU FUCKING FACIST WITH YOU CENCORSHIP CRAP. HEY, JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE SAYS SOMETHING YOU DON’T AGREE WITH DOESN’T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE TO FUCKING CENSOR THEM. I HAVEN’T CENSORED MY SCHOOL, THE GOVERNMENT OR GEROGE BUSH YET HAVE I? NO… SO FYUCK YOU.

 

Haha. Fyuck. LOL.

 

And futhur more. I don’t care if I had caps lock on.

And futhur on more I need sleep

And more on more I need more characters for my story. SUGGEST SOME FOOL.

And more more more, please please take the coffee away from me.

 

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FORCE ME TO UPDATE YOU FILTHY GERMAN PORNO LOVING WHORES.

 

Edit: I’m joking Dee, Flump, Jaryd… <3 I love you all =) Take none of this seriously. Except the bit before the last and this bit =) = XD XD

 

Adios.

 

NOW TO GET MORE HITS….

Seedy Harcore Porn Men fucking woman dick virgin rape milkmaid whore fuck cunt vagina finger blow suck lick arm nose ear emo boy  kissing hardcore xxxx barn  anal vaginal thrust animals nude naked fuck rape hard soft gently fast dick emo gay lesbian bi incest doggy style boob foot toe chameleon.

 

By reading here you agree with the terms of service and policy whatever they may be.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who will write a proper entry one day)

Well now, just a quick entry, with one thing to say.

The next time you’re so freaking self absorbed in your life and ‘everything’s so wrong’ take a look around. It dosen’t matter if you’re having a small argument with friends, family etc… The next time you’re complaining about school, think for a moment before opening your mouth. Millions of children are dying to go to school. Dying to learn to read and write. Dying to live. We, are the And what do we do? Complain.

 

I know it’s human instinct to never be happy. Greed, and always wanting more. But for Christ’s sake, look at the people around you. The earth and all the universe does not revolve around you.

 

After sitting here and observing things, I must say that people… suck. Some do not however, and I think you all know who you are.

 

Anyway, I have to go blow up balloons before Dee and Lain spleen my squiggly spooch. No wait, Tie up balloons.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™.

Laura (Who knows there is nothing humorous or coherent about this entry)

Sampson sat on the overhanging cliff face of the bay, at a slightly alarming height, silently, his head buried, his hair curtaining his eyes, furiously writing on the bleached paper infront of him. He sat with he legs dangling over the cliff face, where below the steep edge lay jagged rocks that jaunted out at dangerous angles. Fifteen meters below him the cliff plunged where it stopped at the green grey water of the bay. The water foamed a brilliant white, its white teeth devouring the edge of the cliff. Sampson paused for a moment, pushed his auburn hair out of his face and narrowed his green eyes onto the picture in front of him. He quickly turned his head left to shield his gaze from the blinding reflection of the sun upon the water. Directly parallel to his body, on the water, was what looked like a streak of white paint that had been dragged along the river until it had reached the horizon where the sun sat. It seemed that the streak painted so brilliantly shone with such intensity that Sampson had to look away in effort to prevent being blinded. He looked down at what he had written, trying to decode his messy writing, but as his eyes were temporarily stunned from the glint of the water, the words swam and the black ink seemed to glow red. He looked up again, this time shifting his gaze away from the vivid luminosity that had occupied the river.

 

The bay he was at, August’s Edge had always awed him. It seemed to be a perfect example of humanities perfect attempt to re-create the nature it had to carelessly destroyed. Even though towering trees and lawns of grass occupied the space behind him, large sky scrapers, bridges and huge grey ships contrasted and ruined the illusion of nature. Furthermore, the smell of smoke and petrol hung in the air, betraying the meager attempt at conserving the original environment of the bay. Yet every so often, Sampson would just sit there, his legs dangling off the ledge, just writing. He often notices things that other people just walked by. That’s what he was, a quiet observer. For example, staring into the river below him, he did not see the sky’s blue reflection, but instead the thousands of tiny ripples and swirls that seemed to rip at the smooth, flawless grey satin surface of the river. He did not just see water, but instead a colossal ongoing, a movement of a great body, much more significant than his own. He was small and unimportant when compared to the great forces that lay beyond him.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who just cheated you out of an entry)

 

Well. I’m still alive. I haven’t disappeared of the face of the planet. I haven’t created morally disturbing blogs (yet) I haven’t converted to bible stories. I haven’t given anyone a weak excuse for stopping to manufacture blogs. Even though I’m a poor orphan I still manage to write them? What does that say about you guys? Huh!

 

So, I’m not god. Nor am I Jesus, thanks to the certain someone who claims he is the immaculate conception. He immaculately conceived AIDS, but that’s a whole different story.

 

Flump suggested that I write a blog about people bitching about things to me. I then pointed out that I would be bitching about them, which defeats the whole purpose of writing a blog about people bitching to me about I bitching about them. Confused yet? Plus I’m too happy/ tired to care anymore.

 

I soon turn fifteen (On the 12^th for those of you who are as forgetful as I am). When this happens, the following events will take place…

·          All other French Wenches will implode, then explode all over there masters. I shall remain in one piece, and no splattered all over the wall. Don’t ask me why this will happen. It just will.

·          I will probably be woken up early by my cabin mate. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my sleep. I really do. But it’s merely impossible for me to sleep well.  Not many of you have yet seen me in the morning. I’ll tell you what happens. I wake up and for about half an hour I’m in this agreeable weird state. I look at things, and don’t register anything anyone says to me. If someone were to come up to me with a cheque for a million dollars put out to them, and asked me to sign it, I’d probably say ‘yeah whatever’ and give you my whole bank account (Which isn’t one million dollars, but oh how I wish it were!)   After that, I’m really insanely cheery. It sounds like I’m on Prozac and Valium simultaneously. After about an hour, I pipe down and I’m my normal Wenchy self.

·          My parents will call, since I’m on music camp. People when then turn around and look at me strangely saying ‘HOLY CRAP SHE CAN SPEAK FRENCH’  I know this because everyone does this.

·          All the children in Cambodia will make wax candles for me and send them over in a boat made of newspaper articles about Hitler.

·          I will stop making incredibly pointless lists such as this one, in efforts to stop procrastinating cleaning my room/ packing for camp/ showering.

 

News just in: THEY CANCELLED MY PHYSICS EXCURSION. How dare they? This is a travesty! I paid thirty one dollars to go to the raceway and do nothing, not for nothing y’know. Oh man, now I actually have to do my homework… Or maybe I could talk my way out of it? Yes. Good idea. Laura.  

 

In response to your comments:  It’s odd that people want to marry me. My great grandma once said to me ‘Laura, you’re a very pretty girl. You should find a nice man and settle down instead of playing guitar and all the jargin. Be a lady’

Excuse me? A lady? Settle down? I’m fourteen, not forty. I’m scared. I’m a wench… but Jesus.

 

Talking about my homeboy (being Jesus that is) I have no idea what the entry is about. I haven’t actually thought of a topic yet. Haha. This blog may not have a beginning nor and end. I apologize.

 

Now I’m going to write a great little story that won’t make any sense. I hope you enjoy. Adios all!

 

*Please note, all similarities to actual people are purely coincidental. Even names.

 

One day there was a great man named Ludwig the Second Ninja Apprentice of the Century.

His name didn’t make much sense, however as he wasn’t an apprentice, he was a karate and tai-kwon-doe master. Ludwig was tall and lanky, his old white hair seemed to float above his frail body. Yes, Ludwig was a victim to old age, and since no one had yet discovered how to freeze a man without killing him, Ludwig was almost certainly, going to die. The old man, rotted with age stood up from his cordless couch, wobbling unsteadily on his wooden walking stick. He closed his eyes and stepped in front of the mirror. He rubbed his temples, a million thoughts flittering through his mind at once. Suddenly, two adolescent boys, or comrades, came crashing in from Ludwig’s rice paper window. However, even though it was rice paper, the window made a sound effect, because this is my story and rice paper will make any dang sound it wants to. Anyway, the two young men had failed to notice that the frail old man was having a heart attack from shock. The continued sword fighting with rolls of wrapping paper, yelling ‘Avast Ye Mangy Scum!’ Until one of the lads was catapulted backwards with some force field that came from no where.

 

“Ouch!” yelped the boy. “I’m so lucky that this newly dead corpse broke my fall!” said the boy names Flump. No, this was not his real name you silly people. He then realized what he had just said, and his eyes opened in shock.

“Oh shit, when did this get here?” said Flump.  His comrade, Jaryd walked over and poked the corpse with his roll of wrapping paper.

“I don’t know. Let’s steal his stuff” replied Jaryd eyeing the mans home, furnished with expensive Japanese things that could be sold on ebay for more than God’s weight in gold… Even though god’s weight is undetermined, it must be colossal, since he’s almighty and all. Flump looked up at Jaryd.

“Jaryd, that’s HORRID! I say we burn the place down.”

Since both the boys were pyromaniacs, they found some matches, a lighter, and a pile of dead otters and lit them on fire before running out of the house.

 

*****

(Because they’re allowed to do that to separates bits of the stories in novels)

 

Laura, the poor little orphan girl wearing a grey potato sack sat comfortable on Dee’s couch in her friend’s humble abode. Okay, it wasn’t really Dee’s humble abode, but Dee, Lain and the poor little orphan had broken in in attempts to steal some cheese. It had failed when they realized that the person’s house did not have a fridge. Don’t ask me how we made that mistake. The three of them sat on the couch, not really quite sure what to do.

“So, what do you want to do?” said Lain, clearly bored.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do” replied Dee, her voice drawling with bordness. They were all clearly bored.

“I know! Let’s go on an adventure! Like pirates!” exclaimed Laura, jumping up from her seat. They shot her weird looks.

“Do you think she’s on crack again?” asked Lain.

“No, couldn’t be. Orphan’s can’t afford crack. She probably just licked a toad.” Replied Dee starting at the odd child in front of her.

Laura gave the EVIL POUT OF DOOM and, the window broke. The three girls cast a look at the window and quickly hid beneath the couch. Two boys came in.

“Do you think they live here?” whispered Laura, her eyes wide. Well I do have large eyes, but let’s just say they are SUPER MEGA OPENED right now.

“Couldn’t be. They’d use the doors. Unless they’re morons,” replied Dee, her voice just as low. The boys were fighting with rolls of wrapping paper. It was safe to assume they didn’t live there at all.

 

“What should be do?” asked Lain. Suddenly they all heard a roar coming back from downstairs. It was a loud noise that disturbed people. The booming voice said “Wooosh… Shoom… BLARKADREEKU!” Suddenly, the two boys with the wrapping paper joined them under the couch. A series of yelps were let out as it was far too cramped for five people.

“Who the feck are you?” asked the orphan to the boy next to her.

“Erm. I’m Jaryd” he said peering to see who was coming up the stairs.

“That dosen’t explain anything. What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I was fighting Flump.” He said hurridly.

“What the hell is going on?” yelled Dee trapped under Lain’s arm. They were all a human knot.

“Well, your commando rolls were impressive, but we were here first. Get out you two” said Dee. But then, they saw what came up the stairs.

“FEE FIE FOE THUMB, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF MAGGOTS” said the figure, otherwise known as Adrian. He stopeed and laughed “Haha, I can say maggot because I have a buzz cut!” he spoke with glee. His face then turned to seriousness again.

“I smell children. And you know what I do to children? I eat them!” he said, his voice booming, for he was a child eating army commander giant.

“That bastard…!” started Dee… “What kind of child eating army commander giant doesn’t have cheese in the house!?”  Laura crawled out from under the couch. It was getting hard to breathe trapped under Jaryd’s armpit and Flumps feet. She stood up, dusted off her potato sack and looked Adrian right in the eye.

 

“Who the hell are you?” said the giant.

“Erm, I’m an orphan/ French-wench.” Said Laura looking up at the tall figure. Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“That dosen’t explain anything” he said frowning. Just then Flump and Jaryd jumped up from the couch.

“Woot! I wench, I’ve always wanted one of these” said Jaryd dragging Laura towards the doorway.

“Yeah, you see we tried to order her by mail, and she got lost. They said six to eight weeks delivery, but we wanted a sandwich.” Said Flump taking the orphan by her other arm and also dragging her towards the doorway. Laura frowned, pouted and karate chopped the both of them.

“Hmm. Kids. I’LL GRIND YOUR BONES TO MAKE MY CHOCOLATE MILK SHAKE” yelled Adrian. Dee and Lain suddenly came to the rescue by swinging on curtains and spin kicking Adrian in the back of the head. It wasn’t enough though, because Adrian is a GIANT, and Dee and Lain, sadly, are not.

Adrian sighed “Fine, I won’t eat you” he relented. “But you must stay for some cheese” he said holding up a Woolworth’s green bag. Dee squealed in delight, for she loved cheese. Jaryd and Flump loved food so they let go of the wench and agreed to stay for cheese. Lain liked cheese too, and Laura, well she was just happy to receive a meal. So they all went downstairs, ate cheese at a round table, drank tea, and became comrades. Then Flump’s phone rang. It was Hitler. He was alive again…

 

To be continued… Maybe…

 

 

On a completely unrelated story, look at the thing I drew on my wrist. Isn’t it cool! I always do that when I’m bored. Draw all over my right hand. Hah.

 

Thank You and Goonight™

Laura (The last entry in the mind set of a fourteen year old)

 

Dear Youth...

 

So many tragedies, so many innocent lives lost through politics. Just for sahying what you think, what you feel. Oppressive regimes taking away your freedom, censoring your right to speak. Fascism, Racism and Nazism. Does it make anyone angry at all?  Not most of the youth of today! Sorry to pull a blanket on all of today's society (even myself), but, it's sad and true. Investigating the majority of today's my space generation, or X.x.Kore.X.x youngsters I have found that no one cares. ‘I’d don’t really care about the world. It’s all boring and shit, and bad things happen. It dosen’t really matter, this is my life right?’ Wrong. If you just agreed with that previous sentence, sodd the fuck off. No seriously. Sodomize yourself now to save your future kids.

 

Most people have no idea what communism is, even the mention of Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Joseph Stalin, Hitler, Vladimir Lenin, Slobodan Milošević, Augusto Pinochet are enough to leave generation ‘x’ clueless, asking ‘say WHAT now?’ The other day, someone asked me who George W Bush was (the same person also went on to ask me what Nirvana was… Yes, I know it’s sad)  For gods sake people. Am I just surrounded my morons or have you stopped listening to what people are saying around you, stuck your fingers in your ears permanently and started smoking hemp (even though this is ironic because I don't know HOW some would smoke with their fingers in their ears.)

 

Historic events, such as Hiroshima, Tiananmen Square and the massacre of Tibet hasn’t exactly sparked anger in many of my friends. Just ‘lol Laura, you’re so emo and lyke opinionated and shit. You kinda scare me. LYKE ZOMG, You’re on drugs, aren’t you!’

No fuck wits, I’m not on drugs. I just happen to care what happens around the world, rather than discuss what colour nail polish I bought (like black is so last season Laura, you look ghastly) or who the latest teen hot pop star shit is.

 

God damn it people, when will you start caring? These things are important. Sure, you might hate Hitler and George W. Bush.  But do you know why you hate them so? No. Half of you don’t know what the Holocaust is, and you hate Bush because John Howard and himself are ‘LOL, LYKE SO GHEY!!!111’

 

So who is to blame? Not that we need to blame anyone, that would just make us all politicians. (Haha, bad pun, I know) Well not the education system. There is so much that they can teach us, and politics, is not one of them. Too many parents are narrow minded for that. They spout rubbish of ‘This isn’t proper, you’re brainwashing my kids!  I don’t want them to have OPINIONS. Dear Lord’

Secondly, most politics are taught with a Right or Left wing opinion attatched to them. It’s almost impossible for a clueless children to formulate an opinion without being influenced.  However, just think, if I can learn about politics myself, at home then why can’t anyone else? Why do we need schools to teach it? Why can’t you just get off your trendy asses and take a look at what’s going down. I don’t expect you to know EVERYTHING, but knowing who on earth Ghandi was, would prove useful if your trying to uphold and interesting conversation with any adult.

 

The government isn’t to blame either (I feel so dirty). They censor most stories for the fear that it will ‘offend’ someone somewhere. As a wise friend once said, “The government are too prissy to have an opinion on anything but war.”

 

So to finalise this cacophony of rambling, I’d like to state that we, as youth have to take matters into our own hands. We ARE the future, and no amount of ‘I don’t want to grow up, hey let’s go to Supre!’ is ever going to change up. So, to all of you mindless indecisive teenagers out there, who don’t pay attention to anything but themselves, I deliver this message to you…

 

WAKE… THE FUCK… UP!

 

Oh yeah, and to any of you who are going to lecture me about this, telling me that I’m growing up to fast, and I’m just doing this to be ‘tough’ and not fit in, go fuck yourself. Seriously. No one else will.  Yes, I’m a whiney bitch. No, I’m not a lesbian. And yes, I will someday get married.

 

Opinions expressed solely by Laura – The Only Wench in the world.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Free Tibet and Free Society)

 

EDIT ON THE LAST BLOG:  No, I was not going to shut my blog down. I meant that entry. Obviously I screwed that up. My grasp of the English language failed that night. Apparantly that’s the first sign on insanity.

 

No Jaryd, Chard, Isaac, Ryan, Panda, Ash, and Andrea. You Rock. =D I love to see that people still read what I write.

 

 

 

 

I'm posting this here because I can. And also because I'm too cheap to write a new blog. Yup, that's me. And people I don't know at school have quoted this. THAT'S RIGHT, ME THE SOCIALLY RETARDED ONE -salutes-

 

WHAT COLOUR UNDERWEAR ARE YOU WEARING?
They're supersonic, radioactive, mircowaved underwear. If I look at them to tell you what colour they are, my eyes will explode and it will cause a current of nuclear winds. Now you look at them and tell me what colour they are, HUH PUNK?

WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Why do you care. If you must know, Blitzkrieg Bop by the Ramones. HEY HO, LET'S GO!

ARE YOUR LEGS CROSSED?
What the hell kind of question is that. Hell no my legs arn't crossed. What the shit. This quiz is ignorant.

HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW?
Cloudy, like your sense of judgement.

LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Erm... I think it was... -thinks- Mums friend. Nerida and Nadia. That's right. Yes, no one cool. I am a loser.

FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX?
HOLY SHIT, That guy has wings!

DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS QUIZ?
No I hate him to hell (just joking) I do however, hate his slow internet connection when he is trying to send me songs.

HOW ARE YOU TODAY?
I killed your parents. And enjoyed it.

FAVOURITE DRINK?
Turpentine with a Rusty Knife in it.

FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?
Pure ethanol. I'm so tough.

FAVOURITE SPORT?
Not participating.

HAIR COLOR?
Brown. No wait, I don't have hair. I'm a cheemo.

EYE COLOUR?
Usually blue, but they change colour. They go red when I use my laser eye beams.

DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
I have twenty twenty vision you moron. Do I LOOK like I need contacts? NO. Fuck off.

SIBLINGS?
One monkey, aged nine.

FAVOURITE FOOD?
Some type of vegetable.

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED AT THE MOVIES?
V for Vendetta. And it shit all over that stupid 'Cry Wolf' thing too.

FAVOURITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
The day people stop sending me shitty quizes that I do when I'm on the brink of insanity.

SATURDAY OR SUNDAY?
Was that even a question. You might as well be asking me "What day could I rape you?" But assuming you mean which I prefer, I say Saturday, when I don't have to work.

ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
No. Why the hell would I be. It's not like I'm going to be eaten. What's the worst that can happen? They say no. Oh boo hoo.

DO YOU LIKE MARMITE?
Vegemite taste better, dweeb.

SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter, I can not dress like a whore and not melt.

HUGS OR KISSES?
I say a warm gun.

CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?
Chocolate contains more sugar. Sugar makes me hypo, therefore, Chocolate.

DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO WRITE BACK?
They better, or they'll find a piece of glass in all their pies.

WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
People who don't want to die.

WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
People who want to die, or are depressed.

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS:
A house, my parents, a cat, a guniea pig and a monkey.

WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING?
1984 - George Orwell, Sophie's World - Some Author, Evil Genius - Catherine Kinks

DID YOU WAKE UP BEFORE YOUR ALARM WENT OFF?
What Alarm? It's the holidays you idiot.

FAVE SMELL?
The smell of the music shop.

BUTTERED, PLAIN, OR SALTED POPCORN?
Pop corn with sugar on it. It's because I'm a french wench you feck.

FAVOURITE CRISPS?
Erm... A flavour I guess? I don't really like junk food that much.

FAVOURITE CARS:
Anything that I can drive, Porsche 911 and our old chum bucket four-wheel drive -tilts hat-

FAVOURITE FLOWERS? 
Roses. But not ugly ones. The suck. 

HOW MANY KEYS ON YOUR KEY RING? 
Two. Front Door, Back Door. 

CAN YOU JUGGLE?
Hell no, have you seen how un co-ordinated I am?

WHO'S YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH?
Sid Vicious. I want to have his babies. If he wasn't dead. And a murderer. And if his mind wasn't fried by drugs.

ARE YOU IN LOVE?
Do you take eftpos?

ANY LAST COMMENTS?
These things are USELESS. Now bow down to me and leave me a comment you cheap bastards.

Thank You and Goodnight™
Laura (Insert Random Fact Here)

 

Why MTV is creating a stupid stereotype for youth around the planet: Part Two.

 

Now, I have more than once, been reffered to as the ‘MTV Generation’

Now, I’m not sure this applies to me as I’d rather bury myself alive that do everything that damned TV station tells me too.

They tell us what’s ‘hawt’ and what’s not.  What if tomorrow, they announced that wearing your hats on your head, was NOT cool, and everyone in with it wore hats on their feet. How many people, do you think would do this? I’m not just talking about people listening to MTV anymore, it’s all these trends that people copy, for no reason. I mean no offence to anyone, but I’d never wear Ugg boots out in public. They’re just so… well, Uggly (I’m sorry, bad joke. Does anyone else realize I make really bad jokes at really inappropriate times?)

 

I’m not saying you have to be different. I’m not saying anything at all really. Just think before you do things. Are you doing this for yourself, or for someone else.

It applies to everything, really.

 

Now, I must inform you all that I am wearing a mega-cool hat. I got it from the linen cupboard (which is a fancy word for were we keep all of our crap)

 

Everytime you think of something sad, think of something happy to even it out again =)

 

Woot, I write really stupid blogs sometimes. Like this one. It makes no sense. I forgot what else I was going to right about MTV robbing us of our individuality. If you want to be individual, find a street corner and paint yourself in rainbow colours. But only one of you could do that, or It wouldn’t be individual anymore.

 

Now on a more personal note (If this dosen’t apply to you, then… just don’t read it)

 

To friends: I know I’ve been a little stupid and negligent these past few weeks. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. Thinking that doesn’t require talking to people. This does not mean I’ve gone emo okay, as many of you have pointed out. Just because I’m not racing around rolling around on the grass as usual it does not mean I’m depressed and disheartened. I am fine. I am good. ACTUALLY, I’m more than fine, I’m fantastic. So I’m sorry if I’ve mislead you all. I know I do have my angsty moments, but hey, who doesn’t?

 

You are all my angels. Thank you so much. =) You know who you are.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who slept in until ELEVEN THIRTY this morning! Huzzah!)

 

MTV – The bane of all evil.

I’ll tell you right now, if you actually LIKE MTV, you could just start worshiping Satan. Right now.

 

I come home, it’s Saturday afternoon. I have just found out my parents have received a free trial of Foxtel somehow. So I turn on the boob tube, which I have neglected for the past months, apart from South Park and Mythbusters, and see what’s on television.

There’s a bunch of shitty reality TV shows, Hollywood block busters and point-black talk shows.

“Okay, daytime TV sucks” I think to myself.  So I then proceed to the music section of the TV. Amongst the country music stations and Club[V] (Which must be the most stupid fucking channel ever, apart from MTV of course) I see something. M.T.V.

 

The bane of all-evil. I turned it on and my eyes started spurting blood to the ceiling. This sucked because my mum is a neat freak.

 

No actually, that last part was a lie. Even though my mum does love things clean.

I think “Okay. MTV” (and keep my blood off the ceiling.)

 

MTV. Music Telivision? No. Is that not what it stands for morons? THEN WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A PIMP MY RIDE MARATHON ON FOR FOUR HOURS.

Now, I’ll start off by saying that the hell is Pimp My Ride. Whoever invented this show, thought it up ought to be SHOT. Okay, you want to see people ‘pimping’ rides (which dosen’t even make sense because in the short ten seconds of the show I saw before making an impossibly loud screeching noise and turning the TV off, No one has having sex with a vehicle. For any amount of money. I don’t blame the though.) You want to watch a freaking ride being pimped? I have an idea. Get off your fat ghetto ass and go to your local mechanic. That’s right, you can watch ‘ol Jimbo fix my fuel tank everyday you idiot. Now stop clogging up the television.

 

But no, THAT’S NOT ALL.

I remember about five years ago when I watched an MTV tape from way back. This was before MTV stopped playing Pearl Jam, so obviously, quite a while ago. I remember these three things… Pearl Jam (Haha, yes), Daria (A show which I happen to LOVE) and more music. Let me underline MUSIC. Not *music*

 

As far as I can tell, MTV play three types of music:

Pop/ Dance – I’m talking Ashlee whats-her-face-is-it-her-sister-and-the-girl-who-looks-like-Britanny-freaking-spears?-Less that electro-pop-synthesised-crap. How can this music be POPULAR. Now, for my, an example of pop is The Beatles. Great band, very POPULAR. See the word being popular. Now when was it that this pink bubble gum chewing, platinum blonde stereotype who can’t sing without lip-syncing became prominent? I’m sick of seeing this crap in such copious amounts. What the hell. No seriously. You can’t sing. Get off the stage, put down the mic, rip up the recording contract. The worst thing is that most of the ‘big’ record labels only sign this crap. Now as for dance. Oh man oh man OH MAN. Sometimes it’s not even SINGING. It’s just some slutty young adult whoring it away on the ‘dance floor’ wearing next to nothing. Not cool okay?

 

Rap and R&B – For the love of GOD. I’ve expressed my hate for this genre of music enough. Now not ALL rap is bad. Rap was originally using rhythm in words to produce syncopation. Many great bands managed to do this. I’ll name one for example…  the Beastie Boys (now, for someone who I will NOT mention because I’ll start vomiting rage who claims to like Rap and R&B, and is individual because no one in our group likes it, and had not heard of the Beastie Boys and I quote ‘SAY WHAT?’). Now they used the English language without butchering with the bullshit ghetto slang thing. I don’t even GET this. I can’t understand your stupid slang. Stop calling people who speak English Yuppies, and get over yourselves. Seriously. I’m sick of this ‘I’m so poor even thought I’m swimming in cash and whores from selling all my rap cd’s but the world is out to get me because I’m party black and apparently everyone discriminates against my race because I can’t speak anything but ghetto slang even though I can it’s just because I want to create another stereotype for Laura to make fun of damnit’ agenda every freaking ‘rap’ artist has created from themselves. It’s BULL SHIT. What you are creating isn’t Rap. It isn’t music. IT’S NOISE. BAD NOISE. PLEASE DIE IN A HOLE CHINGY, 50 CENT, SNOOP DIZZLE AND ALL YOUR LOVING GIRL PALLS.

 

I think I’ll calm down now.

 

And as for Rhythm and Blues. No. What the hell happened to Rhythm and Blues. I’ll show you what happened “DON’T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOT LIKE ME”
No, not Rhythm and Blues… Crap. You can’t sing. Die already.

 

Misbranded Genre Names – Okay, last time I checked (which was NOW) Punk was NOT about your girlfriend leaving you. Punk was not about being in love. Punk was about PISSING people off. Punk was about having an opinion. Punk, for the love of god, was not freaking Simple Plan. Just no. It’s not just Punk that gets misbranded, tons of other genres too. Which I can’t write about. I’m really tired and deluded.

 

I’ll do part two of this tomorrow. I’m tired.

 

Tomorrow: WHY MTV IS RAPING TODAY’S POPULAR TEENBOPPERY CULTURE?

Don’t like it – Don’t care!

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who needs some sleep)

In response to your comments:

Random Pajazo:  I talk shit? That thought has never occurred to me. When I open my mouth, words come out. Noise, sound whatever you may call it. It has never occurred to me that a steaming pile of feces emerges from my mouth. Woah!

 

Jaryd: No screw you. Your lies make baby Jesus cry. Wait, damn it. I am un-resigning. How dare you read my mind you… you… LOL. Yes, you heard me.

I’m sorry. You rock. I worship you.

 

Hannah: I got an A. Yes, suck on that Miss Botella who claims “I don’t put enough effort” into school. Damn you to heck.

And as if you could get sick of peanut butter. Ever.

 

Dee: By drastic, do you mean make cookies for me? Because if you do, go right ahead.

 

Adrian: Wooh! I get deemed by the blog master that my blogs are brilliant. HERE THAT EVERYONE, I’m going to quote him now.

“Brilliant.” – Adrian Snub

Just like how they do it in movie advertisements. =)

Talking about movies, what really annoys me is when in a FANTASTIC movie, they just put things in to make it Hollywood-likeable. Damn it, who CARES if there isn’t a blade/matrix worthy special effects to the maxxorxx fight scene in every gosh darn movie. I certainly don’t. For instance, V for Vendetta, a kick ass movie, so kickass infact that the morals behind the story are even better than seeing half the people at school fall onto each other like dominos, has been flawed by the STUPID fight scene. Okay, not every movie needs a x.x.hard.kore.x.x slow motion fight seen… See, Nadia, who I am now going to mention, is not going to put ANY special effects in her newest productions “Not another Hilary Duff Movie” and “Suddenly… Old and Ugly!” This is why I am paying her the sum of a million quazo’s. Yes. One million.

 

 

In other news, I officially un blog-icide. This dosen’t mean I will be obsessively updating though. I don’t have time. I update for your entertainment values, not mine.

 

Now, I’d like to advertise the most awesome forum in history. This forum is Left Wing Asylum (http://leftwingasylum.deliri.com/forum/index.php) and was stated by Jaryd’s face who is more awesome than even I. HE’S SO X.X.HARD.KORE.X.X HE MAKES ME LOL... Although most people there tend to hate me, and call me a x.x.hard.kore.x.x emo (no, not really, only one) I’ll eat your parents offspring if you DON’T join (yes, that means you… For both threats.)

 

EDIT: That makes two people on the world’s awesomest forum who think I’m totally stupid. YAY. I CAN COUNT.

 

EDIT AGAIN: But they’re just dumb fucks. If a few people weren’t so conceited, it would be perfect. But it’s not their fault they can’t match up to Jaryd’s awesomeness.

 

Today I went to Redneck Plaza, and a girl in a really short shirt and bikini thingo did the ‘Whatever’ sign to me. That REALLY put me back in my place. How dare I dress in three quarter pants and an actual T-shirt… And shoes! Oh my god, I was wearing shoes and a stripy scarf. How dare I! Man, I am so bad. I’m such a rebel. See, look I have a copy of a book called ‘How NOT to look like a whore’ GOD. HOW MUCH OF A REBEL AM I.

 

I think I just exploded from sarcasm overload. Sarcasm hates me you see. It was out to get me from day one. Some of my friends (namely Dee) are so sarcastic, I can’t tell when they are being serious, it’s really bad.

 

THIS ENTRY IS RATED I FOR IDIOTIC AND USELESS CONTENT.

 

I should probably have written that at the beginning instead of scarring little children. Oh well, it’s life. Get over it.

 

I’m easing into this. So give me a break.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who is currently thinking about NOT posting this lame excuse for a blog.)

 

 

Okay, it is not a resignation, it’s a hiatus. I lied. Get over it.

I’ve decided that I need a break from this thing that you call an internet ‘blog’ as I sound whiney and pathetic. Did I also mention I’m not funny? Yay! Emo time!

 

I warn you, this hiatus may be short. Holidays are in TWO WEEKS after all (wooh!)

 

Now, Some aspects of my day were bad, but you don’t care, and neither do I! =D

Haha, so instead of bitching, for my last entry in a while I shall tell you the good aspects of today. In addition, there were heaps of good things, thank you for asking Miss Crocker-field. Now, would you like a scone and a spot of tea?

 

Things that did NOT Pajazo today. Actually, they Trampalooned. Because Trampaloon makes me laugh, and things that make me laugh are good.

 

·          Completely stuffing up Romeo and Juliet with Tahli, Hannah and Kris. Forgetting most of our lines and improvising the whole play, without ever practicing once through without laughing, and all of us getting A’s for it (We did work hard, I swear)

 

·          Carrying plastic plants around the school before the play.

 

·          Carrying my plastic sword on the bus (for the play) and getting told that I could get away with it because I was emo (If you’re sitting there, as confused as I am, I have one word for you… TEA.)  APPARANTLY I’M EMO… HAHAHAH –dies laughing-

 

·          Sitting with Maddi, Scarlett and Josh at break and killing Beyonce music with our laser eye beams.

 

·          Getting an A in music theory =D

 

·          Getting an A on my Chemistry Assignment (yes, another =D)

 

·          Having to do nothing but watch little shop of horrors in show choir.

 

·          Missing out of ten minutes of Math, when they marked the homework I didn’t do, just because of debating.

 

·          Eating a spoon of peanut butter at the liabrary, at the debating meeting and watching Dee consume half a jar, and wondering WHAT THE HELL did Fluorieline put in that buttery goodness.

 

·          Moshing to Mozart.

 

·          Looking out the bus and realizing how pretty it is when it rains outside.  At 6PM. When the sun is setting and the sky is pink and orange.

 

·          ‘I’m going to have to tell you… -shit, what’s my line- “DAMN RIGHT YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME BITCH”

 

·          I like grass. Grass is good. Except when I’m allergic to it. Then it’s all itchy and erkghg…ghgg.

 

 

I’m now going to kill a couple of thousand of you while I’m still happy.

 

<SUPERMEGAHAPPINESSTHATCALLSFORNOSPACESORPUNCTUATION =D =D =D =D =D =D

ILOVEYOUALL>

 

Consider yourself dead.

Until next time.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (the undead, officially yours, the insane one… ME… Yes, call me emo, goth, nerd, loser, prep whatever you wan’t. I don’t care! Throw your insults at me! I don’t care… GUESS WHAT, I FEEL LIKE MY BRAIN IS GOING TO IMPLODE, WHEN IT OVERLOADS AND I’LL JUST BE LEFT IN A VEGETATED STAGE. HAHAHA.

 

Because who cares what I write here when millions die starving in Cambodia?)

 

Huzzah! Another blog? Two in twenty four hours! Laura must be losing her mind.

Well, not really. But I’ve just encountered the most INCOMPETENT doctor ever. Well, not a doctor a skin specialist. I’ll start from the beginning, shall I?

 

Today, as I mentioned in the previous entry, I was scheduled for an appointment with a dermatologist, for my skin allergies today.

My father and I arrived promptly at 8.30, which was out appointment time, and then waited for TWO HOURS until ten thirty, where we finally met the skin ‘specialist’

I use the term ‘specialist’ lightly.

 

I don’t think I’ve ever restrained myself so much in my life.

 

My first opportunity was at the reception, when they asked me if I had any religion beliefs. I had the burning desire to say ‘I’m a Satanist extremist, may I worship you to my God?’ but refrained. I told my father this afterwards and he laughed at me.

 

Now, we met the doctor. I’m just going to call him doctor DUMBFUCK.

Now, don’t you need an OP1 to be a doctor? Well, I have no freaking idea how this guy got one.

HE TOLD ME EVEYTHING THAT I HAD DIAGNOSED MYSELF.

I do senior science god damn it…

This is an example of Mr. Liberal Conservatist’s and my conversation, including his monotone voice.

 

Me:   -Silence - Erm, Hi.

Dr D.F: So…

Me:-looks at dad not quite sure what to say-

Dad: Oh, yes my daughter has been having some allergic reactions, to –blah blah blah- and we took some photographs. We’re not sure what exactly triggered this reaction, and we’d like to know as it wasn’t very nice.

Dr D.F:  Oh. I see (I couldn’t help thinking, erm… no you can’t. You haven’t even looked at the flipping photos). And when did you get this reaction?

Me: It was early December, about a week before we saw Dr. Lam (he had a piece of paper with the appointment dates, and the result of my blood test on it)

Dr D.F: Okay, so was it late November, or Early December?

Me: -casts a sideward glance at my dad, wondering if this ‘doctor’ is not really the cleaner who stole the real doctors badge while we has on lunch break. Dad looks at the doctor as if he is a brick wall-

Early December, I just said that.

Dr D.F :Hmm… Okay, and have you had any other recent reactions since? –I then proceed to show him the crap on my legs and arms-

Yes, I see. It’s totally different.

Me: Uh, my blood test said I was allergic to dust mites, but that’s nothing to do with my skin problems, so it must be some kind of animal or grass, right?

Dr D.F: Well you see the dust mites only affect your sneezing.

Me: Well, I do get hay fever and asthma from time to time, but that has nothing to do with my skin. I usually just take an antihistamine or a puff of my puffer and it goes away.

Dr D.F: Yes, you see skin allergies and sneezes are two different things.

Me: Well, obviously  -starts to get annoyed, because she is being treated as she is two. Dad is still looking at me with an expression that says ‘what the fuck?’ I return his gaze ‘I think he thinks I’m stupid’

Dr D.F: When do you get your hayfever.

Dad: How is this relevant?  We’re talking about her skin. Hayfever is totally different.

Me: Yeah, How do dust mites come into my skin problems?

Dr D.F: Well, dust mites are little microscopic mites that feed of skin cells. We shed skin every…

Me: -cuts in- I know what dust mites are.

Dr D.F: -continues- But we can’t get rid of dustmites because we always shed skin. Dustmites make you sneeze, not irritate your skin.

-Dad and I look at each otheer like NO SHIT THAT’S WHAT WE’VE TOLD YOU-

 

I’m going to stop right now, because this conversation continued for about ten minutes more.  It got worse, too. He gave us a sheet telling us what people are usually allergic to. He also told us everything we told him ‘I get more allergies when it’s humid’ – ‘People tend to get more allergies in humid wheather’ – ‘But, I just… told you that.’

He seemed to think I was stupid. We didn’t even get narrowed down testing, with the whole needle thing, because this doctor just didn’t make sense. It was like talking to a brick wall. No scratch that, it was WORSE. I really wanted to say something evil. But I was just incredibly rude. I wanted to shake him and yell ‘WHAT THE HELL KIND OF SPECIALIST ARE YOU’

I told dad I wanted to jump him when he left. Dad thinks I should of.

I also lost my Sex Pistols patch at the hospital –tear- and we spent fifteen dollars on parking.

I hate hospital smell. I hate all the sidewards look I get from older people. I hate it that every adult there thinks I’m a dumb ass just because most people my age are ignorant. I hate the four hour waits.

 

---

 

I HATE HOSPITALS.

Nothing good ever comes out of them. And don’t you say ‘babies are born there’ because my brother CERTAINLY wasn’t good.

On the way out, when we had to pay fifteen dollars dad asked the guy how much money the parking made each day.

‘More than I make’ was his answer.

I then yelled out ‘You should go upstairs and be a skin specialist’

The parking guy replied ‘Nah, I don’t have the brains’

Dad and I both said ‘You don’t need ‘em!’

 

My father also stated that we could just go on the street and tell people to be doctors as there is a shortage of them in our state. I think I would do pretty well right now. We then continued to make jokes throughtout the day like when the radio said ‘An escaped rapist has been let out of jail...’ My father cut it to say ‘AND HE’S NOW A SKIN SPECIALIST’

 

And this joke. He wrote ‘If our doctor tried to use a computer’

 

There's always one. This has got to be one of the funniest things in a long time. I think this guy should have been promoted, not fired This is a true story from the Word Perfect Helpline, which was transcribed from a recording monitoring the customer care department. Needless to say the Help Desk employee was fired; however, he/she is currently suing the Word Perfect organization for "Termination without Cause".

Actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee. (Now I know why they record these conversations!):

Operator: "Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?"

Caller: "Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect."

Operator: "What sort of trouble? "

Caller: "Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."

Operator: "Went away?"

Caller: "They disappeared."

Operator: "Hmm So what does your screen look like now?"

Caller: "Nothing."

Operator: "Nothing?"

Caller: "It's blank; it won't accept anything when I type."

Operator: "Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?"

Caller: "How do I tell?"

Operator: "Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?"

Caller: "What's a sea-prompt?"

Operator: "Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?"

Caller: "There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept

anything I type."

Operator: "Does your monitor have a power indicator?"

Caller: "What's a monitor?"

Operator: "It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a

TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?"

Caller: "I don't know."

Operator: "Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?"

Caller: "Yes, I think so."

Operator: "Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall.

Caller: "Yes, it is."

Operator: "When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?"

Caller: "No."

Operator: "Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."

Caller: "Okay, here it is."

Operator: "Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer."

Caller: "I can't reach."

Operator: "Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?"

Caller: "No."

Operator: "Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?"

Caller: "Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle - it's because it's dark."

Operator: "Dark?"

Caller: "Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window.

" Operator: "Well, turn on the office light then."

Caller: "I can't."

Operator: "No? Why not?"

Caller: "Because there's a power failure."

Operator: "A power......... A power failure? Aha, Okay, we've got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?"

Caller: "Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."

Operator: "Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."

Caller: "Really? Is it that bad?"

Operator: "Yes, I'm afraid it is."

Caller: "Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?"

Operator: "Tell them you're too fucking stupid to own a computer!"

---

Oh well, at least I get a day off school. I also have to go to work at five today –grumbles something about not being paid yet-

I am still sad about my Patch. WHERE DID I LOSE IT? I do not know.

There is something else that really shits me off. People licking their fingers, and then turning the page.

JUST TURN THE FREAKING PAGE MORON, IT ISN’T THAT HARD.

Today I observed the most gruesome sight. There was an obese man in the hospital waiting room, reading a magazine. He licked two of his fingers, turned the page and then licked them again.

Oh my god. Do you know how many germs there are in a hospital waiting room. IN THE DERMATOLOGY DEPARTMENT… Mmm, imagine all those loose flakes of eczema and highly contagious rashes on that one magazine. Not to mention where the hell had those fingers been. His, and other peoples. And he was just planting germs in his mouth time after time. Gross. I’m never reading a hospital magazine again. Ever.

I remember in year two a substitute teacher licked his thumb and gave me my sheet. I also remember a HUGE WAD of spit on my page and not wanting to touch it. The only other thing I remember in year two is when I almost broke my ankle. HOW SCARRED WAS I FROM THAT?

Just turn the page, you imbecile.

In a soon blog, I will write about my own generation, and the government. In addition, the way adults see us. They think none of us are listening. But I am.

So comment my lovelies. I love you all. Unless you are doctor D.F or lick your fingers before turning a page.

Thank You and Goodnight™
Laura (Who really thinks she could be a skin specialist WITHOUT graduating from high school)

Ps: I miss my patch -tear- It was the first one I ever bought.   

~          I know this blog has nothing to do with dying young, car crashers, cancer or anything in my title. I thought it up myself however. There is a poem about it in my book, but I doubt that anyone wants to hear. it.

 

May I add, I did NOT butcher a Pink Floyd song on Monday. I actually did pretty well =D

Reality Deceives Whatever you Believe.

 

 

Yes, I know I haven’t written a journal entry in a while. I know I told Chard I’d do it by 2AM last night. But I’m tired, and I have work, school work and a life. Yes, a life. It may not be GOOD, but I have one.

 

Anyway

 

I’ve decided, that my school, is a breeding ground for moronic sheep.

I won’t heave you hanging.

 

The first reason is…

1.  We aren’t allowed to petition. Anything. Apparently, if you start a petition (even though petitioning against something would be invalid, because almost everyone at school is under eighteen, and therefore is not at the legal age to have a say in anything) you get suspended. Yes, that’s what I thought to. How morally unjust is this. I wouldn’t mind so much if they told us ‘Yes, you guys have no say in your school’ but it’s all about this bullshit saying ‘You guys have a voice in your school!’ –cough- Bullshit.

 

The reason I found this out (thank you Craig for telling me this before I started a petition and was suspended) is that I wanted to start a petition, or a protest of a boycott against one of our rules.

 

2. Before I continue any further, I’ll explain our uniform to you. Well, the three ‘main’ ones anyway.

We have – Formal School Uniform which we have to wear everyday.

Sports uniform; which we only wear on our CONNECT days (I’ll explain what the hell CONNECT is later in my blog) and when we have PE/ Training for any sports.

And lastly, but not least, we have the ARTS uniform, which is exactly the same as the sports uniform, but the shirt is Navy blue, and it says ‘Arts’ on it beneath the name of our school. We are only allowed to wear this for drama/ art/ music/ dance and all other arts functions.

 

Now, the Uniform Policy clearly states that we are only allowed to wear our FORMAL uniform each day (excluding the sports uniform which we can wear on our allocated CONNECT days), however, if have PE or an Arts subject, we have to change into the other uniforms through out the day, and then back into our formal uniform when that lesson is fair.

Now, I personally think this is a waste of time, but I can see why the school did this. However, the next thing is just unjust.

 

The school recently started a ‘Uniform Review’ and you can now wear your sports uniform all day, or until break time to change.

NOW TELL ME WHY, THE ARTS UNIFORM IS NOT FREAKING CONSIDERED A UNIFORM AND THE SPORTS ONE IS.

How do they vary? The shirt.

That is ALL.

Now why aren’t we allowed to wear our ARTS uniform all day, or until break to change. Why are people getting uniform detentions just because their arts teachers didn’t have the time to make the class stop fifteen minutes earlier just so everyone could change back into their sports uniform for an hour?

 

BECAUSE MY SCHOOL IS SPORTS ORIENTATED, THAT’S WHY.

I don’t even see why they’re so strict on the uniform policy. We’re a private school. My science teacher spends a quarter of the lesson checking hour uniform. WE COULD SPEND THAT TIME LEARNING.

 

3. Now, I am moving on to CONNECT (I almost can’t say that word without shuddering, let alone type it numerous times)

 

Last year, we has SCRAM, on Wednesday afternoons. It was useful. And fun. It either gave people a break from school, gave time from people to study and whom ever wanted to play sport, or rehearse for the big drama production. It was good.

 

But since the school is almost broke now, and the funding just got cut by the government (don’t even start me on the government) instead of just blocking us an hour long study session, tutorials, rehearsal or training time, whatever something USEFUL they could have done… You know what? They want us to CONNECT to this hell hole. Now I wouldn’t mind it so much if the majority of the people at my school were NICE people. But let’s face it, most are insidious, vile, foul mouthes, skanks. And man whores. Except for Mustard, my imaginary boyfriend. And the people I talk to without yelling at each day… but yes, I’m getting off topic. This is what they do to us instead of making us LEARN…

THEY’VE STUCK US IN A CLASS ROOM FOR AN HOUR…

…Doing nothing…

…Except talking between each other…

…ABOUT NOTHING.

And they’re trying to brainwash. I swear.

 

There are these booklets. I haven’t looked through the whole thing yet, but I’ll tell you what section MY class is doing.

THE BIG STUFF.

Which just happens to be about peace. All of it.

Now I don’t know which crack ass wrote this booklet, but all the questions repeat themselves, over and over again.

‘What do you think peace is?’

‘What are your views on peace?’

‘How would the world be if we achieved peace’

‘How are you going to start trying to start world peace?’

‘What is peace?’

‘How does peace affect humans’

‘Would you like there to be peace’

‘Peace, peace, peace, peace, blah, blah, blah’

 

I’ll tell you why this is stupid, and repetitive.

On the first page on ‘What are your views on peace’, this is what I wrote.

 

“My views on peace. Lets see. There is no such thing as peace. There never will be, or has been. Peace will never occur as long as people have different beliefs. Different religion. They day they abolish all money. The day the erase our beliefs. The day they make us look exactly the same, and think exactly the same. That is when peace will occur. But is a colorless world really a price to pay for ‘peace?’ I think not. And when you strip people of their beliefs, do you think it will make them WANT to be peaceful? No. It will make them want to kill a few thousand people. This whole Idea of world peace, what this whole unit is suggesting, is impossible. Even the first civilizations, thousands of years ago had wars. World peace? I think not… It’s human nature. Greed, Selfishness, hate. How can everyone get along?”

 

At this point Matt and Abhi stopped reading my work and said “Man, you’re really going to fail this peace stuff”

 

Which is when I found out WE WERE GETTING MARKED ON IT.

So I raised my hand, and asked the teacher “Do I fail if I don’t agree with this book?”

And he said… “No” (thank god) “Because I don’t agree with it either. Even the first empires fought.”

 

But seriously, what the hell!

I then spent the next five minutes writing below all the questions ‘this question is invalid, peace does not exist’

 

I’m glad to say I WILL NOT FAIL.

 

I just can’t wait to see what the other units are about –IMMENSE MIND BLOWING SARCASM-

 

Enough about my school. Enough about this whole stupid system. We don’t actually learn much at school, sadly. My brain needs information. I am not attending school tomorrow, however as I am going to hospital to get prodded with a few thousand syringes, get allergy testing, and hopefully see a physio-therapist about my rock hard shoulder muscles. There is a problem right there it’s like someone has inserted concrete into the bottom of my neck. My friend who was massaging said she’s never seen so much tension in her life.

 

I am also going to explode at someone. I was extremely neurotic today. I think lack of sleep is building up… I need some coffee with added crack.

 

Please comment, if you were bothered to read this…

Oh yes, and in true style…

YOUR MORALS DON’T MEAN ANYTHING.

 

Thank You and Goodnight™

Laura (Who is becoming more bitter and incoherent by the second)

"Mickey Mouse Is Dead"

Mickey Mouse is dead
Got kicked in the head
Cause people got too serious
They planned out what they said
They couldn't take the fantasy
They tried to accept reality
Analyzed the laughs
Cause pleasure comes in halves
The purity of comedy
They had to take it seriously
Changed the words around
Tried to make it look profound
The comedian is on stage
Pisstaking for a wage
The critics think he's great
But the laughter turns to hate
Mickey Mouse is on T.V.
And the kids stare at the screen
But the pictures are all black and white
And the words don't mean a thing
Cause Mummy's got no money
And Daddy is in jail
He couldn't afford the license
She couldn't afford the bail
The kids out in the road
Their minds have all gone cold
Cause Mickey Mouse is dead
They shot him through the head
With ignorance and scorn
They believed in something new
They read the papers watched the films
And they thought they new the truth
But reality deceives
Whatever you believe
There's always another idea
And theirs is based on fear
The fear of being sussed
For what you really are
The fear of being laughed at
When you go too far
They call it paranoia
You can laugh it away
Until you come to realize
That everyone's the same
People hide their problems
Under faces of contempt
They hide them 'til it kills them
And no one is exempt
Not even you
Look what you done to Mickey Mouse

 

Now, for all of you who didn’t know, and didn’t read that, it was the Subhumans (who sound like Crass and The Dead Kennedys), preforming Mickey Mouse is Dead.

If you did not read it… Do it now. These are AWESOME lyrics. I couldn’t have put it better myself. And no, I will not be posting lyrics every single entry.

 

This is a forward I recently made and circulated. I hope you all enjoy it. I sent this to alot of people I don't even know who send me fowards. I hope I get a response.

 

---

 

 

I thought we all needed a humour filled parody on a sunny Sunday afternoon. So here it goes...

 

OMZ U GUYZ, THERES THIS GIRL CALLED AMY, YOU ALL KNOW AMY RIGHT?
WELL LAST NIGHT SHE GOT THIS EMAIL, AND SHE DIDN'T FORWARD IT ON AND SHE WOZ DEAD DIS MORNING.

 

HERE'S DA EMAIL

>>>

 

Good Day. You have been tagged by the Spagehtti Monster. (Yes, you head me)

Now, you will be really screwed if you don't foward this on to One million four hundred and eighty six different people who all live in your house hold in the next zero point two millisecond.

Yes, you are totally screwed.

So, you didn't forward it on I presume. As I doubt that that many people live in your house, and that you are speedy enough to forward this bullshit to all of them.

Oh well, you had a good run.

Now, let me tell you what is happening.

Tonight you will go to bed. This little boy names Timmy who is seven years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is a Neo Nazi. HE IS DEAD. -cue dramatic suspenseful music-

Well Timmy said that every time you forward this message on, he'll kill four people and donate them to the National Cancer fund. So you see, this message has been forwarded on so many times that many bodies have been donate and Timmy might not die.

But alas, that body will be yours.

 

Now, I shall tell you about this girl names Dash Smith. (Yes, I did combine several names to get that name) She was walking around the street, when suddenly her shoe lace was untied and she tripped and fell! You know why? Because she didn't forward on this message.

 

There was also this man named John who lived in the arid regions of Australia. He fowarded this message on, and the next day it didn't rain! Holy jimmerkers, what luck is that!

 

Now, if you think that Banana's ought to grow legs sign this useless petitions that dosen't mean anything, because it's an ONLINE petition, and is therefore invalid.

 

1. Laura, Australia

 

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, IF YOU TYPE I AM AN IDIOT into word, with windings it comes up with A plane flying into your head!!!!111 Try it, it really works!

 

So remember, send this on, or you will have to pay for msn, your MSN guy won't turn blue, You'll be killed by a nymph, You're friends totally won't hate you forever, the sex fairy will not visit you, and the name of your love will not come up when you press F6.

 

BUT, If you do forward this on, people will realise how stupid they sound when they pass these things on.

 

GOD BLESS THE ICONOCLAST!

 

---

 

I shall post some of the replies I receive... -here-

- EDIT - Some Feedback!

 

---

From : Dee ******* <*********@hotmail.com>

Sent: Sunday, 12 March 2006 2:43:15 PM

To: immortal-and-ephemeral@hotmail.com

Subject: RE: OMZ, This totally dosen't work.

 

OMZ NOOOOOOOO. I don't want to die. Although, if Timmy lives, it is a good deal......

It allz totally works guyz, try it! The guy ttally ddnt get hiz rain... LOL!

Die, abbreviations.

1.       Laura, Australia

2.       2. Amanda Hugandkiss, Australia

 

- Dee

 

---

Thank You and Goodnight™
Laura (Who created this whole bullshit parody.)