Saturday, November 27, 2010


Okay, this post isn't really about money. I just wanted to name it something that would catch most people's attention. LOOK AT THAT! It worked.


I've been doing a lot of thinking of what I want to do with my life when I grow up. In New York City, instead of just going to the high school nearest to you, you must apply to schools, since there's pretty much over 400 schools in NYC (Most of these high schools are focused on something. For example, there's a school called "Aviation High School." I rest my case). My high school application is due soon, and I am freaking out.

But. I think I have figured out what high schools I want to go to.

All this thinking made me wonder: What professions do the majority of our current generation want to take part in? Do most kids plan on being doctors? Computer technicians? Writers? Musicians? Engineers?

SO. If you could please take the time to comment on this post and write what you plan as of this moment to be in the future, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm rather curious.

Thank you.

Picture of the Day (11/27/10)

*Note: If any of the pictures I post are too small, all you have to do to make them bigger is click on them. Just thought I'd help you guys out.

Friday, November 26, 2010

An Interview With Eeshie, Part I

     You know, since I have come to the conclusion that everyone in the entire world has inevitably become obsessed with me, I realize that they must be dying to know more about me. What is my personal life like? What nationality am I? Where do I live? What address? What do I look like? How tall am I? What is my social security number?
     Well. I'm about to please everyone by posting an interview that an anonymous interviewer had with me. I won't tell you who this interviewer was, but I can tell you one thing. This interview was NOT made up by me. I mean, it's not like I pretended to be an interviewer and made up some questions for myself to answer and that I'm pretending that all this stuff happened. Pfft.
      Er...Here we go!

An Interview With Eeshie

Anonymous Interviewer (we'll call him/her/unspecified gender "AI"): Hello there, Eeshie. Are you excited to start your interview?

Eeshie: Golly, I am so excited!

Al: (chuckles) All righty then. What is your real name, if you don't mind me asking?

Eeshie: (stares straight ahead) Pass.

Al: (looks up, confused) Pass? We're only on the first question.

Eeshie: (glares at Al)

Al: Okay, moving on. What school do you attend?

Eeshie: That is private information that I am not willing to share.

Al: It's fine. What nationality are you?

Eeshie: That is private information that I am not willing to share.

Al: (blinks) O-kay. Where do you live?

Eeshie: (clears throat) Once again, that is private information that I am not willing to share.

Al: All right, all right. I have more questions. What do you look like? And how tall are you?

Eeshie: (gives Al a look) Dude. Seriously?

Al: Okay, okay. No more personal questions. Er...what's your social security number?

Eeshie: (throws her hands up in the air) Goddamnit! What kind of screwed up interview is this?!?!

Al: I'm terribly sorry. I-I didn't write up this interview. My company wrote this.

Eeshie: That explains it. Corporations. They're always up to no good.

Al: May I proceed with the interview with the less personal questions?

Eeshie: Go ahead.

Al: (rummages through papers) If someone were to look under your bed, what would they find?

Eeshie: (looks thoughtful. After ten minutes of pondering, she responds) I dunno.

Al: (is clearly frustrated, but continues) So do you have any siblings?

Eeshie: Yeah. I do. I have an older brother in high school. Do you want his social security number too?

Al: No, but what dress size does he wear?

Eeshie: (stares at man) F*** you.

Al: What did you have for breakfast today?

Eeshie: Um, I woke up around lunchtime, so I just rummaged through my refrigerator for last night's dinner since no one qualified for making my lunch was home at the time (a.k.a. MOM)

Al: Are there any particular things you would like to advertise at the moment?

Eeshie: Oh yes! My friend Salena got a new "cellular device" as she calls it. It's the Blackberry Curve 9330. She told me that she gets high speed internet anywhere she goes, can watch Youtube videos anywhere, Facebook has its own app, and it also allows her to transfer the music from iTunes onto her phone and listen to it there. She also says that it is like an iPod, and even came with headphones. You see what we can accomplish when we recycle???

Al: Um...your friend Salena getting a new phone has no relation to recyc--

Eeshie: Hey, didn't I tell you to shut up?

Al: No, actuall--

Eeshie: F*** you.


The rest of the interview involved me beating the interviewer recklessly. But I didn't want you all to see how terrible I am.

I think I was a bit grumpy when I took part in this interview. Expect another interview in a few days, this time with a different interviewer: Larry!

Picture of the Day (11/26/10)

Hey everyone. If you haven't noticed, I haven't been responding to the comments you post. This is due to the fact that my computer works extremely hard to give me a hard time. In other words, it doesn't let me comment. It sucks.
       Anyway, just wanted to let you all (ya'll) know that.

Thursday, November 25, 2010


     Hey everyone! I just want to say HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Eat lots of turkey, stuff yourselves in pumpkin pie, and have fun with family and/or friends. And girls, this is our day to pig out so I say GO FOR IT!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Picture of the Day (11/23/10)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

    I. Saw. The. Movie.
    The field trips that my school offer are all places that you'd go on a first date. October, we went bowling. Today, we went to the movie theater. And coming up, we're going ice skating or laser tag.
    I rest my case.
   Anyway, when your school picks to watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, then it isn't too bad. In fact, it's not bad at all. It's wonderful. I LOVED it.
   A message to all those critics out there insulting the movie: Usually the Harry Potter movies leave everything out and make the story too hard to follow, but this one was amazing. I'm telling the truth. So to those people being mean, just shut your mouth. It was awesome, I'm telling you.
   You must go and watch it.
   We actually walked to the theater, since it was near our school (not that near). But anyway, this theater was huge. The theaters that I have been to before have all been small and crummy. But this one was HUGE.
    Our whole "house" was at this theater (House-it's basically like Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin from Harry Potter, except that we don't sleep there or anything. Haven't I explained this? Forgive me if I'm being repetitive), so since that's about 350+ people, we had to rent out a whole theater room place just for this field trip.
     After we were settled and found our seats, we were allowed to go and get snacks at the concession stands, where there was a HUGE crowd. I waited there with my friends for TWENTY MINUTES, and then I heard a teacher say, "These kids are acting like they've never seen food before. The movie started ten minutes ago..."
    TEN MINUTES AGO?!?!?!?!?!
    I stuffed my money into my pocket and left the line, heading towards the theater room. Then I heard a kid saying, "It's only the previews."
    Ohhhhh. As much as I did like watching the previews, I could live with it. I got back in line.
    "No, the previews are done. The real movie actually started."
    I made a mad dash for the theater, stumbling and flailing my arms around, because you know that's how I roll. By the time I got in the theater, I knew it was a really intense part, cause Voldemort was on the screen and everybody was quiet.
    I got to my seat and tried keeping up from where the movie was. It wasn't hard, but I was seriously bummed about missing the beginning.
    My friends came about twenty minutes after this. I lunged for their popcorn before they could sit down.
    And WOW. The movie was totally worth the seven bucks I paid for (tickets are half off on Tuesdays). If you're reading this, you need to go and watch the movie, whether you read the books or not. I barely read them, and I forgot everything pretty much that happens, and MY GOD, it was so good.
    Are you convinced yet?
    After the movie, it was pretty boring. We went to McDonald's. I didn't buy anything because I was too lazy to wait in the huge lines. I was going to go across the street and buy a gyro from one of those street vendors, but there was a big line by them too, so I thought, What the heck. I'm not hungry anyway.
     The movie was DEFINITELY the highlight of my day.
     Watch. It.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Azima and Dean Part II

*Note before reading this article: If you haven't read it already, refer back to the post titled "Azima and Dean" to understand who I'm talking about here.
     Azima's dream came true yesterday.
     She talked to Dean. Like, TALKED to him. I mean, before it was just a bump. But this time, it was talking.
     The story:
     Azima was coming out of a classroom that was next to the Assistant Principal's room (she had been sent on an errand by her teacher) when she bumped into Dean. Again.
     He gives her that charming, melting-to-your-feet grin of his. "Sorry, sweethart." (Maybe he says it everyone?)
     Azima starts getting flirty. "Again? Really?" She asked, pretending to be outraged. But really, she was teasing, and he could tell.
     "Sorry," he said, this sheepish look on his face. 
     Then, more for the sake of keeping the conversation going, Azima asked, "Do you know where Mr. Derman's office is?"
     "Yeah, I do." And THEN, he puts his hand on her shoulder and starts walking forward. "I'll show you. Follow me."
     He gives her the grin again.
     Azima's mind at this moment: Touch me more...
    (She's a little obsessed with him, if you hadn't realized yet)   
    So she follows him to Mr. Derman's office, and he leads her there, and they get there, and she says thanks. He does his grinning thing again and says, "You're welcome."
     In my opinion, I expected something to happen when they got there, but Azima later told me that nothin exciting happened after they got there. He just went back to his class.
     I don't know about you guys, but I really REALLY hope there's a Part III to all of this. Here's hoping!

Monday, November 15, 2010

Picture of the Day (11/15/10)

Today (well, tomorrow) is a special day (I'll tell you guys why later), so today there will be THREE pictures!
Here's Picture 1:

Picture 2:

And here's Picture 3. This is a picture of me. Well, my feet. This picture may look really cool, but it was taken at my friend's 30-years old brother's gas station. You know those awesome gas stations with the huge shops alongside that have pretty much everything you could possibly need on a road trip? Yeah. He has one, and he's opening it up soon. And you know those long walls of refridgerators at any supermarket (the place you get the milk)? This picture was taken in front of those fridge things. It's pretty cool.


Creepy People

So I was home alone for some time, but my brother just got home from school five minutes ago so I feel much better. Why, you ask? Oh, I'll tell you why.
     Imagine me, sitting at the computer, typing away on whatever I was doing ten minutes ago. Then, the really stupid, startlingly loud doorbell of my new apartment that I am still not used to starts blaring away. I freeze, considering my choices of what to do right now.
     I could:
        a) Not answer the door and pretend that no one is home (since this is New York City, this probably is the best choice)

   or  b) Be an idiot and answer the door.

   Well, I'm an idiot, so I answered the door.
   I pressed the TALK button. "Hello?" I asked awkwardly. Then I pressed LISTEN.
   "Whe nee' tu sigh thi papar! Whe nee' tu sigh thi papar!" A man with an accent that I couldn't understand yelled.
   What the hell?
   The man continued, "This is for the ***** family (the *'s just mean that I don't want to share my last name online)! Someone of the ***** family needs to come and sign this!"
    Because of his accent, I couldn't even tell that he was saying my family name. The way he said it made it sound totally different. Pressing  TALK once again, I said, "The ***** family isn't here. This isn't the ***** family."
    I pressed LISTEN.
    "Someone from the ***** family needs to come and sign this! Someone from the ***** family needs to come and sign this!"
    Dude, I'm not part of the ***** family! I thought. Annoyed, I pressed TALK again. "This. Is. Not. The. *****. Family. Sorry."
    And then I went back to the computer. Ten seconds later, the annoying doorbell rang again.
    "Hello?" I demanded rather than asked when I pressed TALK again. I pressed LISTEN.
    "Come down and sign this!"
    Oh. My. God.
     "I'm sorry, but this is NOT the ***** family." I punched LISTEN, daring him to say more. 
     He was quiet.
     "Okay," he finally said.
     Thank you!
     I happily go back to my work, when five minutes later my brother comes home carrying an orange paper.
     "What's that?" I asked.
     "One of our parents has to sign this. Some Asian man says that he kept ringing the doorbell and that the person who answered said that it wasn't the ****** family."
     I blushed. "Well he said our name like this." I said it the way he said it.
    I followed him to his room, trying to defend my position. "He wanted me to come out and sign it! I'm a kid!"
    "He wanted me to sign it, too. I told him that I'm their son."
    "Oh. Wow."
    I shrugged it off and then went to the computer again, and now I have finished sharing that weird moment. So. Ugh. That was strange. Ugh.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


I got two shots today. Pretty broken up about it. I just felt like sharing this important information with everyone.

Picture of the Day (11/13/10)

Friday, November 12, 2010

This is What Could Happen To your Dad While You Are at School. Beware.

My dad smokes.
    He's not like the obnoxious smokers on TV, lighting their cigarettes in front of the girls at the bar to look cool, flipping his hair (cause you know, guys who smoke tend to have long hair. Which, now that I think about it, is a major fire hazard. Hm), zippering up his leather jacket before putting his shades on and hopping on his motorcycle to drive away.
    He's not that.
    He's just a regular guy, I guess, who also happens to smoke.
    And I think I've mentioned many times before that I JUST moved into New York City. So today at around 2:45, which is when there are a lot of kids everywhere getting out from school and walking home, some teenager confronted my dad while he was getting into his car.
    "Excuse me, Sir?"
    My dad turned around, thinking it was my brother (even though my brother doesn't even get home until like, 3 or 4 something. Nice, Dad). Instead, it's some black guy, a teenager.
    "Can I borrow your lighter?"
    He asks it innocently. But my dad's not stupid; he can piece information together. We're not racist or anything (our nationality is actually a target for a lot of racism, so don't go judging), but it's a rather simple equation that my dad made in his head.
     Black guy + Lighter = BOOM!
     My dad kind of laughed and smiled, trying to be friendly. He said no to the teenager's request.
     The teenager was a bit surprised at my dad's answer, but he continued laughing and smiling like my dad was doing. "Why?"
     "Well," my dad said. "You're underage. I can't give it to you."
     The kid kind of laughed. "Oh, come on. I'm 17."
     The laughter for both of them was slightly forced by now. "I'm not going to give it to you." Cue the fake laugh.
     Silence from the boy.
     And then it came.
    "You mother [censor]ing [censor]. [censor] retard. A**hole. Don't know why people [censor] their [censor]. [censor] [censor] [censor] [censor]."
    And that was me cleaning it up. What he really said lasted for a while, and was much much worse. He even continued cursing while walking away. Guess he didn't have enough.
    When my dad told me his encounter with the black guy after school, I was steaming.
    "Well, what did you say back?" I demanded.
    I looked at him in disbelief. "You should've said, 'I'm going to call the police on you, so you better shut your mouth.' You're the adult here."
    My dad gave me a look. "He knows where our car is."
    I was still mad about it though. But I guess there really is no way of getting back at them without going to jail or dying or whatever. The reality is that I can't beat them up, but they most certainly can beat me up.
    And you may not be living in the city, but remember that ANYTHING can happen to your ol' man while you're at school. Beware...

Interior Decorating...My Latest Obsession

Hey there.
  Okie. I am never not obsessed with something. Maybe I'll be obsessed with a certain type of shampoo for a week, or obsessed with writing stories for a month, or maybe even obsessed with eating jelly beans for ten minutes. Whatever the time, I am almost always obsessed with something.
  And right now? You guessed it: Interior Decorating.
  Don't judge me for actually getting the following pictures from House Beautiful (Yes, I was on their website). But these houses are really, really cool.

Pretty in Pink

Take this one for instance. It's a pink dining room. Like, how awesome can something get? Need I go on?

A Ray of Sunshine                    

This living room is awfully cute as well. But it's a little too...I don't know. Yellow. Too yellow. Am I being blind here? Tell me if this is a good room, and I'll look it over again.

Happy Colors

I like this one. It's relaxing.

A Refreshing Bathroom

Okay, yeah, I realize I put a picture of a bathroom on my blog. But it's a pretty bathroom.

Bright Orange

Ho ho there! WOW. This is room. Yeah it looks nice in the picture, but imagine living in it? Uh-uh. I don't do orange rooms.

Energizing Red

...Are they doing this on purpose to me?

Pale Pink Living Room

Much better. 

Chic Green Living Room

Oh I know who'd like this. My friend, Misticalnia, who is one of the followers of this blog, would LOVE this room. Her room is light green already, so this is even better. I bet that if she's reading this, she even agrees with me. Right, Misticanlia?

Plum Perfect

Oooh! I love this one! My favorite clothing color is probably purple--but it changes all the time. That's why this dining room has so much appeal to me. 

A Bright Kitchen

Ugh. The yellow-ness is sickening. Ugh. 

 Pink, Pink, and More Pink


The headboard to this bed looks like the tiles of school bathrooms. I mean, I don't know about you, but I personally wouldn't want to wake up every morning to the tiles of school bathrooms. But other than that, this room is pretty awesome.

And there ya have it. The extent of my latest obsession of Interior Decorating. Which one is your favorite? (Mine is Plum Perfect) Leave a comment on which one you like the most. If I happen to be on the computer, we can have an engaging discussion of interior decorating. Bring some food and I'll stay for dinner.

Picture of the Day (11/12/10)

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Picture of the Day (11/10/10)

I agree.


Right now, I am blasting "Telephone" (the Glee version, which is so much better) through my computer speakers. I feel pumped!
    Anyway, I feel really happy with myself today. All of my teachers (except for my stupid social studies teacher who I discussed yesterday) want me to transfer to an "SP" class, which means "Special Placement." You have to be really, really smart to be in an SP class. I personally do not think I am smart enough to be in an SP class. An English SP class would be good for me, and so would Science and Social Studies, but definitely, not in a million years, would a Math SP class be good for me. Math is just not my thing. I suck at math. Just because you receive 100% in something does not mean you are good at it. I am the living proof for that.
     Ooh. Now I'm listening to "A Year Without Rain." (I. Am. Obsessed. With. That. Song)
     So anyway, today my English teacher, Ms. Raynolds gave us passwords to some website that we're going to be going on a lot for English class. The first thing she told us to do was to take an online test that figures out your reading level. And she warned us that we had to take it seriously because she was actually going to count it in our grades. (Some stubborn people rushed through it and got their score as a second-grade reading level. Jeez)
      Random: Now I'm listening to "Just the Way You are." His voice is so sweet (But I find him so extremely unattractive. It's very sad.)!
      Back to my story. I approached the test very, very cautiously. Ms. Reynolds is my #1 fan, who is always talking to me and trying to get me into SP. She thinks I'm absolutely perfect and way too smart for her d*mb*ss class. Which, you know, is true. But she is very open about that, while I am not. She thinks I'm really smart, so I tried doing my best on this test so that this image of me would remain in her mind. And guess what my score was?
     Now I'm listening to "Hide and Seek."
      My score was that I have the reading level of an 11th to 12th grader! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYAY!!!
      And that is why I am in a teriffic mood. And cause, you know, I just had a cookie that had a diameter of like, FIVE inches, which is a lot for me. But the contibuting factor is my high score. Yay!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Man, I love this font...

   I really should be doing my homework right now...especially since my social studies teacher almost gave me an 85% (even though EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY TEACHERS EXCEPT HIM is trying to put me in an advanced class. But yeah whatever.)
   Dang, I was such a jerk to him. I marched to his classroom after school yesterday and demanded why I got an 85% and said I deserved at LEAST a 95% (because it's going to look terrible on my high school application) and showed him my notebook and the notes I've been taking in his class and was like, "There, dum*ss, ya happy?"
    *Note: I did not actually say this. Or did I?
    So then he was very happy with what he saw and raised my grade to a 95%. Yeah. I can be effective.

     Yeah. So.
     Here's a random part of my day that I feel like sharing:
     My brother and I were sitting at the dining table, arguing about something extremely petty and unimportant. My parents were trying to sleep on the couch. But they couldn't, because we were being loud and annoying.
     "Can you two argue quieter?!?" My mom asked.
     My brother and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Okay, sure...?
     Hm. I wonder if my mother will ever look at this blog. Hmm...Now I'm seriously reconsidering editing my blog....hmm...
     Nah forget it.
     I'm really just ranting on and on right now. See it? I have nothing to say. But here I am.
     Oooh! I have a really good question that I can't figure out the answer to.
     Is it more important to have a job that you love and enjoy doing, or doing something noble that will make you successful in life and have people looking up to you?
     Think carefully. Most people are going to get all sappy and say, "Well of course you should do something you love."
     No. Not that simple.
     Here's why:
     I want to be a writer. I enjoy writing. BUT, how much money do you think a writer gets? Not everyone is J.K. Rowling, right? So unless you're writing about wizards or vampires, you are most likely not going to be selling that much. Which means not that much money.
     Which brings me to my next point. Doing something noble that will make you successful in like, and have people looking up to you.
      Everyone wants me to be a doctor. My best subject is science (100%), you get a ton of money, and even if you do not make much money (which I find hard to believe), it's a very, very noble job. Doctors save lives. How much more noble can ya get? And picture this: You're at a really elite cocktail party with men and women dressed up in suits and evening gowns with everyone carrying around a wine glass.
      "So what do you do for a living?" someone asks you.
      "Oh, I'm a doctor," you reply smoothly. 
      It sounds so professional and rich and smart. 
      So what do you guys think is more important? Having a job that you love and enjoy doing, or doing something noble that will make you successful in life and have people looking up to you?
       Leave your thoughts as comments, because I could use the help of others. :D

Picture of the Day (11/9/10)

Hey ya'll.
  Kay, so I was inspired by my good friend misticalnia (who has her own blog called Imaginality...should be a word. Check it out!) to make a "Something of the Day" post. She has "Questions of the Day" and "Random Facts of the Day." Sooooooo....
      I decided to do "Picture of the Day."
      Aren't I special? That's why the above sentence is in bold. Do you have a sentence in bold? Yeah, I didn't think so either.
      So here's the picture of the day.

Yeah enjoy!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Azima and Dean

   Today was a very good day for my friend, Azima. She's had a crush on this white guy named Dean since FOREVER. She's always talking about him, always in a good mood if she sees him in the hall, and would absolutely die if they started dating.
    I'm not exactly sure what she really sees in Dean. Well, I guess I can't say that because I don't know him too well.
    When Azima and I started being friends, she'd always talk nonstop about Dean, and the more and more she talked about him, the more and more I wanted to see this guy.
    But I never did. We're in totally different houses. (Houses. Like, you know. Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?  We have the same thing except that we go home instead of sleeping there. And we don't attend Hogwarts) And being in different houses is like being in different worlds.
    Since this is New York City we're talking about, there's like, what, four white people in my grade? Maybe? So whenever we saw a white guy, I'd jokingly say, "Oh, look Azima! There's Dean!"
     She would look at the white person and then laugh and be like, "Hell no, that ain't Dean."
     I extended this game to adults as well. If I saw white woman, I'd say, "Hey, maybe that's Dean's mother. You know, your future mother-in-law?"
     She'd shove me before looking at the woman. Then her eyes would pop out and she'd say, "If that's Dean's mom, then good-bye Dean!"
     It went on like that. Me, pointing out every white person I could find and relating him/her to Dean, and Azima, shaking her head and saying it's not Dean.
     But then one day...
     Azima and I were standing outside of the school, just talking. Most people were gone by now. I saw this tall, wiry, blond-ish white boy walking up the street. I eyed him, eyebrows raised. I elbowed Azima and joked, "I hope that's not Dean."
     She quickly looked away from his direction. "That's Dean."
     I whipped my head back towards the kid, eyeing his every move. "Oh, my God. Really?"
     She stomped her foot. "Mandy (our other friend) said that too! I don't know, am I being really weird for liking him? Is he that bad?"
     I looked at Dean again. He was talking with a friend now.
     "Well..." I start, really speculating the face. "He's not...ugly...he's just not...the best." I hoped this was a good enough answer. It was the truth. Then, as an afterthought, I added, "But I don't like the hair."
     "Oh yeah, me neither," she said without hesitating. "I know that he might not be the best-looking guy, but he has a nice heart, you know? And he's in the advanced class. He's smart."

     That weekend, I saw Dean. And he got a haircut. And he looked better. I told all this to Azima on the following Monday. She was excited to see him now.
      The weeks went on, and then one day Azima seemed quiet. This was unusual for her, so I asked her, "What's wrong?"
      She told me that she found out that Dean had a lot of girls that wanted to go to prom with him (Yeah I know. We're in 8th grade and we're having a prom. Weird). She was really upset, so I said, "Okay, you know what we're going to do? Next time we see Dean, I am going to shove you into him. You're going to apologize and say that you 'tripped.' Got it?"
      She just laughed.
      Well, our chance came and left after school that day. Azima chickened out.
      But last Friday, Azima decided she was over Dean. "I found out that he cheated on my best friend."
      Why, Dean? Why?
      Azima was somber that day, strong in her decision to forget about him. She seemed heartbroken. Every few minutes, she'd say, "I can't believe he'd do that!" I would nod sympathetically.
     And today, this morning, she comes in with her cheeks pink and her face glowing and looking so happy. Before she says anything, I say, "You saw Dean." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
     She nods like a puppy. 
     "I bumped into him!!!"
     "Oh my God, no you didn't!" I laugh. "On purpose?"
     "No, by accident," She takes a deep breath before starting. "I was walking down the hall with two of my friends who are also his friends, so then Dean comes and they high-five and he smashed into me and grinned and said, 'Sorry, sweethart.'"     My jaw dropped. "He said what?"
     "He said, 'Sorry, sweethart!'"
     "Oh, my God!" We squeal together, jumping up and down in our seats. "Did he smash you from the front or back?"
     "And what'd you say?"
     Azima blushed. "I said, 'It's okay.'"
     I waggle my eyebrows at her. "Oh, it was more than okay..."
     She throws her head back and laughs. "Hell, yeah!"
     "So now you like him again?" I asked, knowing her answer.
     "Ya!" She blushed as she said, "He kept looking at me. This is actually like the fifth time we bumped into each other, but he never looked at me then. Those were just in the hall between periods. This was in the morning. And he looked at me. And he kept looking at me."
     She squealed.
     "Yeah, probably cause you look so pretty today," our other friend said. (It was true. Azima really outdid herself today with her hair and her outfit)
     The rest of the day, she was literally bouncing.
     I wonder if Dean and her will ever actually have a relationship. And if they do, wow. Just, wow. :)


Sunday, November 7, 2010

Mean Jokes

    Ok, I'll be the first to admit that I am a huge fan of racist jokes. Not because I am a racist bastard or anything -- because I'm not -- but because I just like it when we all make fun of ourselves. If you know me personally, then you know just how many racist jokes I make about myself (Right Salena?). I do it all the time. It's really fun.
    I'm about to post a bunch of racist jokes (and a few blonde ones) up here, so if you don't want to read them or you think you're going to get insulted, LOOK AWAY. Got it? Good.

*Important: I do not believe in any of this. It's all a bunch of crap. Funny crap, but crap.

1) There are four men on a boat. One American person, one Mexican person, one Japanese person, and one Bengali person. The boat starts to sink, so they decide to get rid of some things to lighten the load.
        The Japanese person gets out a bag of high-tech gadgets like iPhones and iPads and other tech-y stuff that aren't in the US yet. He throws them into the water. The Bengali person is amazed yet concerned.
         He asks, "Why did you throw all that stuff out? It's expensive."
         The Japanese person answers, "Oh no worries, we've got plenty of this stuff in my country."
         Next, the Mexican person gets out a bag of tacos and burritos and throws them into the water. Once again, the Bengali person is amazed yet concerned.
          He asks, "Why did you throw those stuff in the water? What are we going to eat?"
          The Mexican guy answers, "Oh no worries, we've got plenty of this stuff in my country."
         Next, the American guy throws the Mexican guy into the water. The Bengali guy is extremely concerned now.
         "Oh my God! Why'd you throw him in the water?!?"
         And the American guy answers, "Oh no worries. We've got plenty of this in my country."

2)  Three girls die and get sent to God. One blonde, one brunette, and one red-head. God tells them that they will walk on a path of 100 steps. On each step, they will be told a joke. If they laugh at any joke, they will go to hell. And if they make it across without laughing, they will go to heaven. First up was the brunette.
    She goes on the first step, laughs, and goes to hell.
    Next was the red-head. She went on the first step, laughed, and went to hell as well.
   Third was the blonde. She went on the first step and did not laugh. She went on the second step and did not laugh. She made it all the way to 99th step without laughing. And then, she laughed. And then she got sent to hell.
     God asked her, "You were doing so well! Why did you laugh?"
    The blonde answered, "I just got the first one."

Aw shoot. That was only two and now I have to go. Well, I'll post more later. BYE!

Funny Stuff

Just so I don't get in trouble for anything,
        I just want to say that I didn't make any of these pics. None of these are mine. Whoever made them, GREAT JOB!

Um...that's embarrassing....

Yo wuddup fool?
   Sorry. My friend's been in a gangster mood lately, and I guess she's catching on to me. :D
   Anyway, I just wanted to share something that happened in school a couple weeks ago. But it was just too funny. Here it goes:
(Oh and before I start, let me just say that all the names here are fake)
   It was a normal day in English class. My teacher, Ms. Reynolds, was going over some worksheet on making predictions or whatever. She calls on me to read a paragraph out loud to the class, so I'm just sitting there happily reading, when BOOM.
   Our dean, Mr. Sherman, comes into the classroom with this really urban, really sophisticated, really chic young-looking African-American lady decked out in fancy clothes with a huge coat and huge clacking heels and walks right up to Ricky, the number one troublemaker in our class.
    And she says (screams) this:
    “Are you cursing at her? (points at Reynolds) You better not be cursing at her! You better not be cursing at anybody! I left my job for this! Ricky, you've been getting in trouble, locking her out of her own room, disrupting the whole class, bothering everybody! If you EVER do anything to Ms. Reynolds, then I will come at you so fast and get down so deep in your throat. Boy, I would kill you right now, but Mr. Sherman said not to. I can't believe I left my job for this! LOOK AT ME WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU!”
   And this whole time, Ricky keeps feebly murmuring, “I didn't curse!” “I didn't do that!” Very, very softly.
   His mom keeps going and going, and at the end, she says, “Are we understood? Good.”
   She starts walking towards the door and we all hear her clackety-clacking heels going off. “You have a nice day, Ms. Reynolds!” She says, her voice still annoyed from talking with Ricky. “I'm going back to work!”
   While that was happening, I guessed that was a lifelong friend of Ms. Reynolds who had come to her rescue after hearing the terrible stories of what a misfit of a student was doing to her. But apparently I was wrong. It was definitely Ricky's mom. Definitely.
    So wasn't that FUNNY??? Idk, it was to me, because this kid is really mean.
    Yeah, so later. :D

Thursday, November 4, 2010


  So I always thought that when people said New York City kids are rude and obnoxious and all gangster, I totally thought this was an exaggeration. But GUESS WHAT?
  They are absolutely, 100% telling the truth.
  I'm a suburban girl, okay? I come from houses and front yards and town pools and Caucasian people around me. But recently, my family decided to move to NYC. Why NYC? I have no freaking idea.
  But anyway, these kids are seriously rude. I feel BAD for my math teacher. Okay, okay, here's an example.
  My math teacher's name is Ms. Paper. (I changed the name since I don't have her permission to put it on my blog. But whatever) Anyway, people are always yelling and cursing at Ms. Paper. Right in front of her face. Loudly. And what does she do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don't why she doesn't speak up. She's the teacher after all -- she has the power to give them all detention. She has to let them know that.
  But anyway, this really snobby girl Doreen (No, her name is not really Doreen. I don't have the permission to use her real name) always talks in class. And she always rudely interrupts Ms. Paper's lessons to shout, "Can I got to the bathroom?!?!"
  And Ms. Paper always answers, "No, you haven't been raising your hand and waiting for me to answer. You have nothing on your page either."
  Doreen is a really big snob, so she goes up to Ms. Paper and starts yelling. She's saying all this crap like, "Why can't I go to the bathroom? You keep telling me to raise my hand and I've been raising my hand for half an hour and you don't give a damn that I've been raising my hand! What's the matter with you? Are you blind? Can't you see me raising my hand? I gotta go pee, and you won't let me go! What am I supposed to do, pee my pants?!? What kind of stupid teacher doesn't let you go pee?"
   Ms. Paper looks as if she's going to cry, but she manages to say firmly, "Doreen, take a seat."
   On the way back to her seat, Doreen says a parade of insults to Ms. Paper, like, "What the hell, I've been raising my damn hand for a damn thirty minutes and that b*tch won't let me go." She throws her notebook into her bag. "I don't need to know no shit. And if I do, I don't wanna learn it from this dumb*ss."
   Everyone was kind of quiet after that outburst, because well, it was KIND OF RUDE. That girl definitely needs to learn some manners.
   Poor Ms. Paper! I really want to say something to her, say something to make her day after all this crap from her students. Don't these students know not to direspect a teacher? Is it just a suburbs thing to respect people, or is it a city thing too? I mean, I haven't been living in the city for that long, but it's been hard to find some respectful, decent people. But I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
    What do you guys think?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


 I. Feel. Giddy.
 I have officially made my first post. On my first blog. I want you guys all to start clapping, okay?Ha, kidding....kind of...
Um The excitement wore off already. Wow. That's pretty sad.
 KAY well that's it for tonight. Later! (Follow my blog; it will get more exciting, I PROMISE!)