Oh yeah. We gangsta.
Greetings, my fellow readers!
I'M BACK!
Yup. It's true. EESHIE is BACK!
Now, I know that this post has been long overdue. Like, loooooong overdue. I'm very sorry for the delay. But I've been insanely busy. What with state tests, trying to get into Honor Society, crazy homework and tests, and studying for four other exams coming up, these past few weeks have been a blur, and blogging is the last thing on my mind.
Alright, that last bit is such a lie. I went on Blogger like, every day to read your blogs. Hee hee!
Like I warned you in my last post, this here post is going to be extremely long, because I shall be updating you with the awesomeness of ME. I'm just letting you know so that ya'll won't leave comments like, "lol omg thhis post ws soo lonnggg lolzzz ur funny lol". Yes, Stereotypical Blond Cheerleader. I realize this post is long. I wrote it. Didn't think about that, did ya?
Some of you might have been confused with what I wrote two posts ago. Who's Jade Tara? Why is she on this blog? How come Eeshie's usual hilarity was not present? I'll tell you why.
On Saturday, April 30th (which, if you were smart enough to notice, was the day I posted the Jade Tara thing), my family and I attended the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards Reception/Ceremony for Gold Key and Silver Key winners. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? WELL. Like they say on the website, the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards is a competition in which students submit their works to regional programs of The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards presented by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers and its Regional Affiliates. Students can earn opportunities for recognition, exhibition, publication and scholarships. Works designated as Gold Keys on the regional level are forwarded for national-level review where they can earn Silver Medals and Gold Medals.
So basically, it's a writing/arts competition! For example. I sent something into the Personal Essay/Memoir category to my regional affiliate (Regional affiliate is basically your local city. Kinda. Not really) After the judging is done at the Regional Affiliate, they send out letters to notify if you won anything (No letters if you don't win) You can get Gold Keys, Silver Keys, Honorable Mention, and a few other things. Gold Key is the best award, because all the Gold Keys get sent for national judging. And if you win national, oh man. Your award ceremony is in Carnegie Hall, and you win a Gold or Silver Medal, and you can get scholarships and you've got it made.
Yeah, I didn't win a Gold Key.
Actually, I won a Silver Key! And Misticalnia won a Gold Key!! Neither of us got to National though. That really would've been something...
But I'm not sad. It was cool just to get a Silver Key.
My point: April 30th my family and I attended the Awards Ceremony just for those who won Gold or Silver Keys in New York City. Obviously, it wasn't at Carnegie Hall. If it was at Carnegie Hall, I'd have a dress planned six months earlier. But no, I went in jeans and a t-shirt. I actually had plans to wear something fancier, but I was in a bad mood, so I just threw on anything, much to my mother's annoyance. Ha.
We arrived right on time, 2:15. There was already a huge line to get inside. When we got into the lobby, we saw a long table with white boxes filled with envelopes that contained certificates of recognition. That was where the line was going. I finally got up.
"Name?"
"Eeshie."
She looked through the envelopes, and then asked as an afterthought, "What letter does your last name start with?"
"I," I said.
After finding it to me, she handed it over with a quick, "Congratulations" before I was shooed off and up to the sixth floor.
There, I found refreshments for the reception, which I greedily ate because it was the first thing I was eating for the day. I hadn't had breakfast or lunch or anything until now, so I grabbed two cookies and literally shoved them in my mouth. Before I could grab another, I was shooed back down to the first floor to get into the auditorium.
Award recipients were meant to be in the first six rows of the auditorium, but a bunch of snobby/clingy parents would not let their child sit with anyone else, so they sat in the spots specifically reserved for recipients. UGH. So, I dragged my brother with me to my seat, cause' I wasn't going to sit without him when all these parental-units were taking up all the seats. He sat to my right.
To my left was a cute-looking girl who looked about my age. She was reading her certificate, and I noticed it read: Silver Key, Poetry in fancy silver script letters. Being my friendly ol' self, I said to her, "Oh, you got Silver Key?! Me, too!!!"
"Really? High five!"
We high-fived.
"So you got Silver Key in poetry?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Yeah."
"Oh, that's really cool," I said. "So, what grade are you in?"
She told me she was in the grade right under mine. I said, "Really? You look older."
She nodded. "Yeah, I get that a lot. It's because I've got a June birthday. Those kids always look older than their age."
"Hey, don't sweat it. I have a June birthday, too. When's yours?"
"June 15th," she said.
"That's cool. Mine's June 27th. The day before school ends. It's pretty much like, the worst day to have your birthday," I said, rolling my eyes.
She nodded sympathetically. "It's so weird, because my birthday is June 15th. And my brother who's three years younger than me is June 14th."
"Dang."
"And then I have a cousin who's birthday is --"
"Let me guess: June 13th?"
She laughed. "Yeah. You're right. It's like you get all this cake in one week, and then you're done for the whole summer."
“I should totally plan out my future kids' birthdays so that I'll have cake year-round,” I joked. She laughed.
Her name was Rachel.
“So, what school do you go to?” I asked. And then, remembering that she might not be from my borough, I asked, “Well, what borough do you live in? Like Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx...?”
She had this blank look on her face.
I began back-pedaling. “Or do you not live in New York City? Do you live in upstate New York?”
She nodded.
“Oh,” I said, relaxing. “Where in upstate New York? Because I used to live there when I was young. Rye? Westchester? Yorktown?”
She now had another blank look.
“I live in Manhattan.”
But...a stuffed puppy?!
Another time, I girl stomped onto the stage with an outfit that screamed, "I'M A WANNABE ROCKSTAR! YEAH, MAN!" and she looked kinda...drunk. "Hey...I won a Silver Key for my poetry..." I half expected her to say, "MONSTER TRUCKS! DESTRUCTION! BOOM BOOM!"
One girl came up and said, "I won three Silver Keys for my poetry, four Gold Keys for my journalism, two Silver Keys for my short story, one Gold Key for my short short story, three National Silver Medals for my personal essay/memoir, and two National Gold Medals for my short short stories."
The entire room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. And then, from me, "Damn."
Enough of the Awards! I think I've already convinced most of you guys to enter. And if not, reread the whole thing. Now.
You know, a few hours after I wrote this post, it was almost midnight. I was very sleepy and very tired because I had been trying to get all my homework together for class the next day, as it was the last day of Spring break. Also, I was pretty cranky because my "brilliant English teacher" decided to put up homework and a project for us on the last day of Spring Break.
What. The. Hell.
Anyway, I was all upset. And all of a sudden, I heard my brother and my dad calling my name from the dining room.
"Yeah?" I grunted.
"Just come here!" Yns squealed. Yeah, he squealed it. My older brother squeals.
I walked into the room, and my dad and brother were running their hands over a Barnes & Noble's bag, making curious noises. They kept saying to each other, "Hmm, I wonder what this is...?" and, "Is it for Eeshie...?" and "Hmm..?"
"What?" I asked. "You called?"
Then my dad said that he and my brother had gotten me something for doing so well in school and getting the highest average in the class and getting #5 in the whole school. I looked inside the bag and found a GORGEOUS notebook and The Book Thief.
Apparently, neither of them had a clue of what book to get for me, so they called Misticalnia and asked her. Well, Misticalnia apparently made a whole list of books and sent it to my father via email. Ha. I love my cousin...
I'm pretty excited to read The Book Thief. Heard it's good. Hm...we shall see...
And now on a completely random note, I want to tell my fellow readers of how scared I am. I'm terrified. There's been traffic on my blog lately, because apparently tons of people are looking up, and I quote: "teen boys skinny dip."
Whoa.
I mean...whoa.
Where is the youth of America going? Where is it going??!
So.
Have you ever been on a plane? If not, you must. Not ever experiencing the exhilaration of being on a plane means that you're missing out on amazing photo opportunities like the one I took below:
My friend YN (Do I really have to emphasize her being my friend by now? I think I've mentioned her, oh...about 472 times already) and some of us somehow got a note sent to Mark where we wrote: GRYFFINDOR MISSES YOU! We got the note back last week. The class went crazy. He wrote back, "I MISS YOU GUYS, TOO!" then he drew some stuff, and on the back he wrote, "Gryffindor is way better than Hufflepuff." Then he wrote something else that no one really understood the meaning of, so...yeah. I dunno. Probably a black people thing.
:D We always joke about Mark's ethnicity. And he always jokes about ours! It's a wonderful relationship!
Oh yes, and before I forget to mention: I know that a lot of you have been linking to me and giving me awards and other equally-awesome stuff in your blogs. If you ever do, you should definitely leave a comment reminding me of it, or just telling me to go look at it. This just makes life easier for me, I guess, because I really can't keep track of all of your awesome blogs. And I'd love to link to the people that link me, but it's just so difficult to keep track.
:D
So. Anyhoo.
This is a link, which you will now press, and you shall notify me if it doesn't work.
“It's okay,” I shrugged. Then I saw YN's face, eagerly waiting for the verdict. “It's good. Really, it is.”
I gave YN my look. My “You're-Very-Bony-And-Not-Fat” Look. She didn't move an inch.
(Just kidding. If someone had a heart the size of a watermelon, they'd be a goner! Haha! Oh...wait...)
The experience, overall, was good. I learned things about Ruby that I did not know before. For example, did you know that Ruby actually lives very far away from this school? Like, with a car it's fifteen minutes. That's pretty far for a New York City school.
So her father came to pick us up. I played up the whole Muslim thing, saying, "Assalamwalaikum" and all that. Hopefully, he likes me. I'm not so sure...
He dropped us off at Ruby's house, and we went in through the back.
The first room was the kitchen, where two prune-like, fragile old people were sitting. They slowly looked up at me when I walked in. I said Salam to them as well.
I think they started talking Urdu with me, but then Ruby said (in Urdu), "No, no! She's not Pakistani!"
Ha. Oh, gosh.
The two old people were Ruby's grandparents. They seemed nice enough, I guess. While Ruby was making us a sandwich, they asked so many questions. It was difficult for Ruby. They would ask in Urdu, Ruby would listen, translate it in English for me, I'd answer, she'd listen, and then translate it back to her grandparents in Urdu. Complicated.
"What does your dad do?" They'd ask me. "What does your mom do? Does your mom make food? What school do you go to? Oh, you go to school with Ruby? Wonderful! Do you like to read? Reading is good. Are you Muslim? Yes, being Muslim is good, too."
At one point, Ruby's grandmother said something long in Urdu that went on and on. Ruby nodded, taking it in. Then she turned to me. "My grandma says you should start wearing a hijab."
My heart dropped, while my eyes flew to Ruby's very own hijab.
"Yeah...you're probably right..." I said, barely audible, feeling guilty and whatnot.
Ruby sensed my discomfort. "Nah, don't worry. She just says stuff like that."
I nodded. Excusing myself, I practically ran to the other room to wait for Ruby's sandwiches...and ran right into a room with her hot older brother. Just...sitting there.
Whoa.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Ruby came up behind me with the sandwiches and surveyed the scene.
"Oh you remember my brother, Liam. Remember he came on parent teacher conference?"
How could I forget a face like that?
"Oh, he did?" I asked. "Really?"
Eeshie = Liar.
Liam looked up from what he was doing (he was eating and was on his laptop in the living room). I gave my usual friendly wave and said, "Hi!"
He replied back, "Hi."
....
WHOOOOOOO!
Ahem. We went upstairs to her room and all that, and then I had to go back down to get my camera. And...and...Liam was laying down on the couch.
I ... tripped.
I was just so caught of guard with the utter hotness in front of me, and slightly embarrassed because I felt like I was intruding. So I forced Ruby to get my camera for me.
EMBARRASSING. Like, really embarrassing. I kind of choked when I saw that.
Ruby showed me around her house and all, and at the basement we came to what looked like a boy's room.
"Who sleeps here?" I asked, eyeing the extremely messy bed.
"Oh. My brother. You know, Liam? Yeah him."
Shit. I tried containing my excitement.
The dude actually has nice clothes. His closet was wide open, and it looked like he had every shirt from American Eagle in there. Nice!
When we got to his desk, I saw a big jug filled with red-tinted liquids near the bottom, and it slowly turned into yellow-tinted as it reached the surface. There were two twigs half-submerged in the liquids as well.
"What is that?"
Ruby looked over at it. She smiled. "Oh. That! That's ... well, that's ... " the smile faded and turned into a frown. "Ew, what the fuck is that?!"
We shared a laugh, and then quickly went back upstairs before Liam could find out that his younger sister brought her friend into his room without permission.
Yeah.
For me, there was basically one major plus for having a friend with lots of family members. Hot dudes.
Dead serious.
It was so ... weird! One hot guy after the other hot guy, they just kept coming! And with every new one, I'd whisper to Ruby, "Who's that?!?" and she'd say, "Oh that's my cousin." And I was like, "Oh..."
They don't all live there, but a bunch of them live close by, so they come around a lot.
And God, there's so much variety! There's the curly-haired gangster-looking smart guy, the conceited, talkative buff guy, the preppy, solemn guy, and so much more. I was like in guy heaven over there.
After Ruby and I managed to bake like 75 brownies, fed ourselves and her family some brownies, and were waiting for the last batch to bake, we talked.
"So. All your cousins live around here?" I asked.
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Lucky. I have like, no cousins near me. The closest one is in upstate New York."
"Really? Damn."
We were silent.
"So you never really get lonely around here, huh? There's always someone in the house?"
She nodded. "Basically."
"Do you ever want to be alone?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes. It feels so crowded sometimes, you know?"
"We should switch for a day. I'm like the complete opposite."
At that moment, her other brother came in. Not Liam, a different one named Ryan. Ryan is ... weird. I don't know. He's probably not weird in reality, but I just call all dudes that like me weird.
Ryan came in. Staring. I ducked. So annoying. Like, he doesn't even make an attempt to hide the fact that he's staring at you. Gosh.
Ruby made him leave. With that, we started talking about brothers.
"Oh, my brother's weird. You've met Yns, right? Yeah, he's weird."
She laughed. "No, your brother's cool! He's like so friendly and all that. My brother's all quiet and shy."
I tried avoiding any talk about Liam, but Ruby saw right through me.
"You think my brother's hot." It was meant as a question, but the way she said it was a statement, waiting for me to prove her wrong and deny it.
"Um..."
"Eeshie!"
"Well, he's not bad looking ... " I said defensively.
She took this the wrong way. "Oh, you can say he's bad looking. I don't care."
"But he's not!!" I screeched. She raised her eyebrows. "I - I mean ... I meant ... he... his ... "
Ah, fuck.
"Well, your brother's cool, too!" I finally said, lamely avoiding the previous question.
"Uh-huh."
I sunk lower into my seat.
The smart thing that most people would do at this point would be to not mention Liam. However, I'm not smart, so I asked like, the worst possible question to ask at a time like this.
"So does your brother date people?"
She choked on her brownie. I smacked her on the back and got her a glass of water.
"What?!"
"No, no! It's not like I'm ... interested. I'm just ... I don't know. Curious, I guess. Muslims aren't really supposed to date, but the way your brothers and cousins dress, you'd never guess that. So do they?"
Ruby denied it. "Never. Absolutely not. They would never."
"You sure? Maybe they keep it a secret ... ?"
"Never. They're just dumbasses."
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure how that last bit had anything to do with them dating people, but I went along with it.
I came home at eight, even though I was supposed to come home at six. Yns started scolding me. What the hell?! He never scolds me! He's one year older than me! I'm the one who scolds him and tells him to wear clean clothes and tells him to do his homework! What the hell happened to our stable relationship?!
Our brownies were a hit at the party the next day. Just thought you should know. Most of the party was spent eating and playing the perverted version of quack dilly oso, which I will not even begin to explain. It was...an experience. A dirty one.
Every Muslim person is supposed to visit the Kaaba in Saudi Arabia once in their lives. It's required. Ruby came back from Saudi Arabia a few weeks ago and brought us GIFTS! She brought me and some other people a matching bracelet and choker necklace. It's SO SEXY. Mine is blue. It's pretty awesome.
Looks like it's time for some...
SHAMELESS LINKING!
Sarah and I were chilling in the Sahara Desert, just doing our thang, when all of a sudden, Ash comes out of nowhere, holding a cheesecake. We all sit down to eat, when Boyd comes cruising along in his new car with his long locks flying behind him and offers us a ride.
We hop in and I turn on the radio. The song happens to be by My Chemical Romance. Mischeif Managed's spidey-senses tingle at anything My-Chemical-Romance-related, so she flaps her little wings and flies all the way to us from New York and lands in the car.
We drive on, bobbing our heads to the music. Some way or the other, we end up in Chicago! We pass AByrne , who is grinning happily to himself with that dirty mind of his, and we also see RainboRevolver at the bookstore, devouring every Shakespeare book in sight.
We take a left turn and see L. furiously typing away on her laptop, devising strange new ways to slip the word, "Penis" into her next post. Then, as we pass the costume store, we see Natalie buying last-minute accessories for her ANTI-PROM (Which was really awesome, by the way, you should read that post)
All of a sudden, Boyd loses control of the car and we're about to fall into some random ocean when That Blond Guy swoops down from the sky (all the way from Atlanta, by the way) and somehow saves us all with his glorious, beautiful, luxurious blond hair.
We're all cheering, when Dan and Victoria show up and give us FREE CHEESE FRIES! We're all celebrating and stuff, when a flyer comes out of nowhere and hits me in the face. I read it and see that it's the handout for when Bookish.Spazz was running for Vice President at her school (Dumb All-American Boy won. Meh).
I decide that Bookish.Spazz must win, and we all go to her school and demand a re-election for her. This time, PeaceLoveAndSharpies helps us by using her AMAZING art skills in making posters for her. Bookish.Spazz wins by a landslide!!
Misticalnia, Epicality and Lemons Don't Make Lemonade all join us in a big party for surviving the Rapture (which was never going to happen anyway), and all of our other followers attend and I'm really sorry if I didn't get to link to you and it's basically because I'm really tired right now but I'll get to you for sure on my next post.
WHOO!
God. This linking thing took so freaking long. Blah! But I guess I need to stop being so lazy. At least I did some work. Elmo approves.
Seriously though. My laziness is terrible. Worse than a therapist using Katy Perry lyrics on his patients. Oh, the horror. Can't you just imagine it?
Therapist: So, Mr. Berkely. Do you ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind wanting to start again?
Terrified Patient: W-what?
Yup.
Do you think by my birthday of June 27th, I'll have reached 200 followers? I hope so. I usually get 1 to 5 new followers per day, so June should be more than enough time. Here's hoping!
I like cats. And I like music. Which brings us to...
CATS LISTENING TO MUSIC!
Get with the groove, yo.
Dear Taylor Swift,
If it is of any interest to you, Romeo and Juliet both kill themselves in the end.
Sincerely, Shakespeare
Greetings, my fellow readers!
I'M BACK!
Yup. It's true. EESHIE is BACK!
Now, I know that this post has been long overdue. Like, loooooong overdue. I'm very sorry for the delay. But I've been insanely busy. What with state tests, trying to get into Honor Society, crazy homework and tests, and studying for four other exams coming up, these past few weeks have been a blur, and blogging is the last thing on my mind.
Alright, that last bit is such a lie. I went on Blogger like, every day to read your blogs. Hee hee!
Like I warned you in my last post, this here post is going to be extremely long, because I shall be updating you with the awesomeness of ME. I'm just letting you know so that ya'll won't leave comments like, "lol omg thhis post ws soo lonnggg lolzzz ur funny lol". Yes, Stereotypical Blond Cheerleader. I realize this post is long. I wrote it. Didn't think about that, did ya?
Some of you might have been confused with what I wrote two posts ago. Who's Jade Tara? Why is she on this blog? How come Eeshie's usual hilarity was not present? I'll tell you why.
On Saturday, April 30th (which, if you were smart enough to notice, was the day I posted the Jade Tara thing), my family and I attended the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards Reception/Ceremony for Gold Key and Silver Key winners. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? WELL. Like they say on the website, the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards is a competition in which students submit their works to regional programs of The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards presented by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers and its Regional Affiliates. Students can earn opportunities for recognition, exhibition, publication and scholarships. Works designated as Gold Keys on the regional level are forwarded for national-level review where they can earn Silver Medals and Gold Medals.
So basically, it's a writing/arts competition! For example. I sent something into the Personal Essay/Memoir category to my regional affiliate (Regional affiliate is basically your local city. Kinda. Not really) After the judging is done at the Regional Affiliate, they send out letters to notify if you won anything (No letters if you don't win) You can get Gold Keys, Silver Keys, Honorable Mention, and a few other things. Gold Key is the best award, because all the Gold Keys get sent for national judging. And if you win national, oh man. Your award ceremony is in Carnegie Hall, and you win a Gold or Silver Medal, and you can get scholarships and you've got it made.
Yeah, I didn't win a Gold Key.
Actually, I won a Silver Key! And Misticalnia won a Gold Key!! Neither of us got to National though. That really would've been something...
But I'm not sad. It was cool just to get a Silver Key.
My point: April 30th my family and I attended the Awards Ceremony just for those who won Gold or Silver Keys in New York City. Obviously, it wasn't at Carnegie Hall. If it was at Carnegie Hall, I'd have a dress planned six months earlier. But no, I went in jeans and a t-shirt. I actually had plans to wear something fancier, but I was in a bad mood, so I just threw on anything, much to my mother's annoyance. Ha.
We arrived right on time, 2:15. There was already a huge line to get inside. When we got into the lobby, we saw a long table with white boxes filled with envelopes that contained certificates of recognition. That was where the line was going. I finally got up.
"Name?"
"Eeshie."
She looked through the envelopes, and then asked as an afterthought, "What letter does your last name start with?"
"I," I said.
After finding it to me, she handed it over with a quick, "Congratulations" before I was shooed off and up to the sixth floor.
There, I found refreshments for the reception, which I greedily ate because it was the first thing I was eating for the day. I hadn't had breakfast or lunch or anything until now, so I grabbed two cookies and literally shoved them in my mouth. Before I could grab another, I was shooed back down to the first floor to get into the auditorium.
Award recipients were meant to be in the first six rows of the auditorium, but a bunch of snobby/clingy parents would not let their child sit with anyone else, so they sat in the spots specifically reserved for recipients. UGH. So, I dragged my brother with me to my seat, cause' I wasn't going to sit without him when all these parental-units were taking up all the seats. He sat to my right.
To my left was a cute-looking girl who looked about my age. She was reading her certificate, and I noticed it read: Silver Key, Poetry in fancy silver script letters. Being my friendly ol' self, I said to her, "Oh, you got Silver Key?! Me, too!!!"
"Really? High five!"
We high-fived.
"So you got Silver Key in poetry?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Yeah."
"Oh, that's really cool," I said. "So, what grade are you in?"
She told me she was in the grade right under mine. I said, "Really? You look older."
She nodded. "Yeah, I get that a lot. It's because I've got a June birthday. Those kids always look older than their age."
"Hey, don't sweat it. I have a June birthday, too. When's yours?"
"June 15th," she said.
"That's cool. Mine's June 27th. The day before school ends. It's pretty much like, the worst day to have your birthday," I said, rolling my eyes.
She nodded sympathetically. "It's so weird, because my birthday is June 15th. And my brother who's three years younger than me is June 14th."
"Dang."
"And then I have a cousin who's birthday is --"
"Let me guess: June 13th?"
She laughed. "Yeah. You're right. It's like you get all this cake in one week, and then you're done for the whole summer."
“I should totally plan out my future kids' birthdays so that I'll have cake year-round,” I joked. She laughed.
Her name was Rachel.
“So, what school do you go to?” I asked. And then, remembering that she might not be from my borough, I asked, “Well, what borough do you live in? Like Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx...?”
She had this blank look on her face.
I began back-pedaling. “Or do you not live in New York City? Do you live in upstate New York?”
She nodded.
“Oh,” I said, relaxing. “Where in upstate New York? Because I used to live there when I was young. Rye? Westchester? Yorktown?”
She now had another blank look.
“I live in Manhattan.”
“Ohh.” Didn't she just tell me she lives in upstate New York? I'm not going crazy? I dismissed Rachel's potential insanity. “Oh, that's cool. Manhattan. Wow.”
“Yeah, I could never live in the suburbs.”
“Oh?” I asked, slightly curious. As a girl who's lived more than half her life in the suburbs, I had to know what she didn't like about it. “How so?”
“Well, I mean, it's just so...” she put on this glossy look in her eyes, the kind you get when you look directly into the sun for too long, and began waving her arms around slowly, as if trying to find something, but not finding anything.
I laughed.
“There's just nothing there!” she said, laughing along as well.
“Well, suburbs aren't like a farm, if that's what you're thinking. Really. They're not that bad. I used to live there. I only came to New York City in late September.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
Pretty soon, the awards began. A few people went on stage and talked and stuff, and then we got some entertainment!! There was this amazing ninth grader (as in, only 14 years old) who somehow wrote this amazingly hilarious musical and submitted it to the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and won NATIONAL Gold Medal in Humor.
Fantastic, ain't it? I repeat: Only 14 years old!
Anyway. We got to watch her musical. It was...just...EPIC! My brother and I were cracking up! It was called “College Admissions: The Musical.” The story line basically begins with a husband and wife seated at the dinner table with their two Harvard daughters, wearing Harvard t-shirts. They're all having a nervous breakdown, because their son, Ted, is about to come home, and then he can open up his email and see if he was accepted into Harvard.
Well, Ted comes home, and they're all already congratulating him on his acceptance, but then he sees that Harvard didn't accept him. Both he and his family get all sad, and they all take turns singing -- yes, singing -- the rejection letter he received.
They leave him alone for a while, and then suddenly, this fat genie rolls on to stage making these weird noises. He goes, "I am the College Admissions Genie!"
The genie explains that he is the one who helps people get into college by taking them back in time and guiding them through the college process. He says, "How do you think Al Gore got into Harvard? If it wasn't for me, George Bush wouldn't have been in Yale. And God, that was a tough one..."
Like I said. Funny stuff.
Ted gets really excited that he has a second chance and begins singing about having a second chance to the tune "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, except the lyrics read, "A Second Chance."
Oh yeah. The dude playing Ted was really cute, and sang amazing. Did I mention that yet?
However, Ted realizes that it's okay that Harvard didn't accept him in the end. The genie wants him to go back in time and lie to the college officers and make himself sound better than he is. But he doesn't want to do that. So, in the end, Ted sings another song and it was the grand finale and all I can remember was that the last lyrics were, "...I guess I'll have to settle for Brown!"
Funny.
(If you're interesting in reading the play, go here and you'll find the word "FILTER" and there should be three boxes next to it; Art, Writing, All. Click on Writing, choose Humor, then press OK. You'll then find it: College Admissions: The Musical)
(If you're interesting in reading the play, go here and you'll find the word "FILTER" and there should be three boxes next to it; Art, Writing, All. Click on Writing, choose Humor, then press OK. You'll then find it: College Admissions: The Musical)
There were actually some funny speakers. Some dude named Steve Young spoke to us, and apparently he's been nominated for an Emmy twenty times and has had zero wins. (That's like, a record in itself). He writes for The Simpsons and David Letterman. The speech he gave us was hilarious.
But from the funny musicals to the great speeches, I think the most amusing part of the event was seeing the teens go on stage to say their name, their grade, their school, and what they won. I mean...some of these teens were weird! 75% were normal, but the other 25%?
I mean. A girl walked up on stage wearing a floor-length hippe-esque, tie-dye gown with equally long and flowing hair, a huge purse on one arm and a stuffed puppy in the other.
"Good afternoon! How is everyone doing tonight? I hope everyone's having a swell time!"
Yns and I exchanged glances.
"Writers are weird," I joked.
"Writers are weird," I joked.
But...a stuffed puppy?!
Another time, I girl stomped onto the stage with an outfit that screamed, "I'M A WANNABE ROCKSTAR! YEAH, MAN!" and she looked kinda...drunk. "Hey...I won a Silver Key for my poetry..." I half expected her to say, "MONSTER TRUCKS! DESTRUCTION! BOOM BOOM!"
One girl came up and said, "I won three Silver Keys for my poetry, four Gold Keys for my journalism, two Silver Keys for my short story, one Gold Key for my short short story, three National Silver Medals for my personal essay/memoir, and two National Gold Medals for my short short stories."
The entire room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. And then, from me, "Damn."
Enough of the Awards! I think I've already convinced most of you guys to enter. And if not, reread the whole thing. Now.
You know, a few hours after I wrote this post, it was almost midnight. I was very sleepy and very tired because I had been trying to get all my homework together for class the next day, as it was the last day of Spring break. Also, I was pretty cranky because my "brilliant English teacher" decided to put up homework and a project for us on the last day of Spring Break.
What. The. Hell.
Anyway, I was all upset. And all of a sudden, I heard my brother and my dad calling my name from the dining room.
"Yeah?" I grunted.
"Just come here!" Yns squealed. Yeah, he squealed it. My older brother squeals.
I walked into the room, and my dad and brother were running their hands over a Barnes & Noble's bag, making curious noises. They kept saying to each other, "Hmm, I wonder what this is...?" and, "Is it for Eeshie...?" and "Hmm..?"
"What?" I asked. "You called?"
Then my dad said that he and my brother had gotten me something for doing so well in school and getting the highest average in the class and getting #5 in the whole school. I looked inside the bag and found a GORGEOUS notebook and The Book Thief.
Apparently, neither of them had a clue of what book to get for me, so they called Misticalnia and asked her. Well, Misticalnia apparently made a whole list of books and sent it to my father via email. Ha. I love my cousin...
I'm pretty excited to read The Book Thief. Heard it's good. Hm...we shall see...
And now on a completely random note, I want to tell my fellow readers of how scared I am. I'm terrified. There's been traffic on my blog lately, because apparently tons of people are looking up, and I quote: "teen boys skinny dip."
Whoa.
I mean...whoa.
Where is the youth of America going? Where is it going??!
So.
Have you ever been on a plane? If not, you must. Not ever experiencing the exhilaration of being on a plane means that you're missing out on amazing photo opportunities like the one I took below:
Uh-huh.
Anyhoo. My glorious, beautiful average went down. I'm so sad. I'm heartbroken. I just want to beat my fists on my chest and let out a King Kong-like roar and watch the citizens of New York City scream in terror and make the stupid, stupid Hufflepuff guidance counselor pay, because he's the one who made my average go down.
Let's call him Mr. Crap-ola.
The day before we got our report cards, my awesome science teacher told me that she had given me a 100% for the third marking period. But when I got my report card, it said 98%. Confused, I showed it to my teacher and she crossed it out and wrote 100%, and then her signature.
"Go to Mr. Crap-ola and tell him to change your grades on the computer and print you a fresh copy."
So a few days later I give my report card to Mr. Crap-ola. I got really excited, too. My average then was a 102.02, and if my science grade went up, my average would go up as well. Common sense, right?
Wrong.
Stupid Mr. Crap-ola handed my report card back with a lower average. I gave it back to him.
"No. This isn't right."
He didn't look at me, ignoring. "Yes, it is."
"Um. No, it's not."
"And why not?"
I spoke slowly and enunciated carefully so that the moron would understand. "When I handed you my report card, my average was a 102.02%. Now, when one of the grades when higher, how can my average go lower? There must be a mistake. That makes absolutely no sense."
I was in that room for about an hour. I skipped my classes. I had to get this fixed, especially since my Honor Society papers were due that day.
"Look. This average is your average. I can't change it, because that's what you got. Okay?"
"No! How do you not get this?!? One of my subjects went UP, so how can my average go DOWN?"
He did something else, and then my average came out to be 101.98. It's...good, I guess. But for a few points, I just may be out of the running for valedictorian and I'm no longer in the Top 5!!
FUCK.
While I was still trying to make him see sense, Mr. Crap-ola finally said, "Look, Eeshie. I'm a member of the Honor Society Committee. If you're going to get all stressed about something small like this, I'll tell everyone that you're not fit for Honor Society, and I'll make sure you won't get it. Got it?"
Bastard.
Why I oughta...
"Fine." I snatched my paper and left the room. What made the whole thing worse was that Lydia was sitting there the whole, entire time. Yup. And she was asking Mr. Crap-ola to do the same thing: Changing her 98% for science into a 100%. Her average went from a 101.67% to a 102.45%.
"Yes!" she shrieked happily as we walked back to class. In terms of Top 10, she squealed, "I knocked Daniel out of the way, I knocked MH out of the way, and I knocked you out of the way! Whoo!"
Sigh. Guess I'm not the top of the class anymore. Ah, well. It was nice while it lasted...
 |
| Agreed. |
Oh yeah, and before I forget: PENIS! (Sorry, That Blond Guy. I know that was overdue as well)
SO. About two weeks ago, it finally happened. The unthinkable happened. The most terrible, horrible thing happened. (Are you scared yet?)
Mark, whose epic story is on this post, who was the Class Clown for us, our Martin Luther King, who was the outgoing one, who was actually a sweet person on the inside, the Chris Brown replica, who was the life of our class and probably our leader, got transferred to our rival honors class.
Yes. You read right.
Our entire class was practically in mourning. We were devastated. He was like the handsome, funny, rebellious older brother. And now...he's gone.
:(
Why would they do such a thing?! Especially when there's less than two months left of school! They took him out because they accused him of taking part in something bad. A few weeks ago, all over the second-floor (Gryffindor), there were oranges. Tons of them. Everywhere you looked, you'd see oranges. Orange peels, orange seeds, and the actual oranges inside. They were all smashed and broken open and spilling in juice.
All over the third-floor (Hufflepuff), there were apples. Just as many as the oranges. I bet there were bananas on the first-floor (Ravenclaw) as well. But they think Mark did that. Mark would never do that. They didn't even ask him if he did that. Instead, they just hauled him away to our rival class -- The Hufflepuff Honors Class. Jerks.
I was practically crying. "No! Who's going to entertain me in Science?! Who'se going to argue with Lydia?! Who's going to yell at Senora for me?! Who's going to stand up to Ms. Attorney for us?!"
Sniff.
In the middle of Spanish, we decided to make a petition to get him back. No way were we going to let our rivals have him. We'd get our whole class to sign, the teachers, and would even force people from the rival class to sign. Mark was, and still is, ours. He belongs to us, and we belong to him.
All right, so this sounds really creepy. But meet Mark in person, and everything will change. I swear.
Sigh. I miss Mark...
My friend YN (Do I really have to emphasize her being my friend by now? I think I've mentioned her, oh...about 472 times already) and some of us somehow got a note sent to Mark where we wrote: GRYFFINDOR MISSES YOU! We got the note back last week. The class went crazy. He wrote back, "I MISS YOU GUYS, TOO!" then he drew some stuff, and on the back he wrote, "Gryffindor is way better than Hufflepuff." Then he wrote something else that no one really understood the meaning of, so...yeah. I dunno. Probably a black people thing.
:D We always joke about Mark's ethnicity. And he always jokes about ours! It's a wonderful relationship!
Oh yes, and before I forget to mention: I know that a lot of you have been linking to me and giving me awards and other equally-awesome stuff in your blogs. If you ever do, you should definitely leave a comment reminding me of it, or just telling me to go look at it. This just makes life easier for me, I guess, because I really can't keep track of all of your awesome blogs. And I'd love to link to the people that link me, but it's just so difficult to keep track.
:D
So. Anyhoo.
This is a link, which you will now press, and you shall notify me if it doesn't work.
Near my school, about a short block away, lies quite a few stores. After school, most of us teens from school hang out at the cornerstone deli, where you can get a whole bag/tray of fries for one dollar. One measly dollar. You can see why we prefer this deli to be our hangout place over any other stores.
The deli is always, always super crowded. And loud. And it's very easy for someone to touch you “accidentally.” Still, it's an awesome place. (Not because of the accidental touching, of course. Ha. That'd be...weird. And...and...um...)
ANYWAY. There's like, five stores next to the deli, but no one really goes inside of them. Most of us only go into the deli.
Until a few weeks ago...
A couple Tuesdays ago, YN and I were walking home, and the whole while, she was going on and on about some brownies.
“Oh my God, they're so delicious! I've never tried anything like them! I swear, it'll be better than any brownie you've ever tasted!”
While she was raving about these brownies, I couldn't help but be mildly surprised. YN isn't one to go crazy over any types of food. The girl hardly eats. Seeing her going insane over these brownies made me curious.
“Really? They're that good?”
She nodded vigorously. “Samantha and I both tried them yesterday. Here, I'll buy you one. They cost $2.50.”
“$2.50?! That's expensive!”
She waved me off. “That's what I thought, too. At first. But try them, and you'll be willing to pay anything for them.”
This was getting so neat. I couldn't imagine paying $2.50 for any brownie, so I was getting excited.
We made our way to the deli. Then, we went to a store two doors down from it.
“Oh, we're going here?” I asked, slightly deflating. I looked up at the sign. Pandora Bakery. “It's so...close.”
“Have you been inside before?”
“Well....no,” I admitted. Actually, I had never even acknowledged its presence. It was jammed right between two other stores, and it looked kind of...mysterious. Now that I thought about it, was this store even here before?
“Then shush.”
We stepped inside, YN leading the way. As soon as my foot made contact with the tiled floor, my nose died and went to nose-y heaven. Such a smell! Oh, God. All the sweet, warm things in the world all attacking your nose at once. Freshly baked bread, cinnamon buns, glazed cake, powdery donuts, banana nut muffins, and that unmistakable, warm chocolate-y smell of brownie.
Eeshie died and went to heaven with her nose.
YN pulled me along as she could see that I was in a daze. When I finally came to my senses, I looked around. This place was freaking adorable! It was air-conditioned, had 50's-style tiled floors, and behind the counter mounted on the wall were chalkboards that held the menu. It was very roomy, and had cute tables and chairs. Near the window, there were some plush couches where some people were reading.
“Hello, there!” a man was sitting at one of the tables. Seeing us customers, he leaped up with a smile and went behind the counter.
He wasn't exactly elderly. He looked as if he was nearing the end of being “middle-aged.” Good for him.
I drooled while looking at the counter. There were cakes and muffins and brownies on display.
“Can I get a muffin?” I murmured to YN.
“No,” she scolded. “We're here so that you can try the amazing brownies.”
We looked up at the man.
“I came back for more brownies,” YN said with a polite smile.
The man smiled a crinkly smile. “Ah...I told you you'd love them!”
YN nodded. “You were right. They're so good!”
He nodded. “I make them from scratch with three types of chocolates. Not one. Three.”
In mock surprise, I gasped. “Not one? Three?”
He nodded, eyes wide. “Not one. Three.”
We saw that the man was very proud of his baked goods. Eventually, YN paid him the money ("I'll buy for you today," she insisted. "So that you can concentrate on the brownie and not the price." )and left with the brownie in our hands. It was pretty big.
“All right. I'm gonna split this, all right?” YN asked.
I nodded. “Do it!”
She split it, generously giving me the bigger half (YN is awesome like that). I unwrapped it, getting ready to take a bite, and almost jumped up when I saw YN staring at me, grinning.
“What?!” I asked, startled. “Is this a trick or something? What's going to happen when I bite it?”
YN rolled her eyes. “No! I want to see your reaction to the brownie! Eat it!!”
Slowly, I took a very tentative bite to my brownie, half expecting little sparks to go off in my tongue and hearing my tongue moan in pleasure.
But...nothing happened.
Now it was her turn to deflate. “You don't like it.”
“No, no! I do!” I said hurriedly. And I wasn't lying. Yes, it was good. But...it tasted like many of the other brownies I'd eaten before.
And then, my friends. I took my second bite.
Oh. My. God.
Words cannot describe. It was just...materialistic bliss. The outside of the brownie was pleasantly hardish, for those who like crunchiness, and the more bites you took and the deeper you went, the tastier/chewier/warmer the brownie got! It was amazing. It was freaking fantastic! The brownie itself was warm and chewy, but out of nowhere you'd taste chocolate pieces!
I was moaning right there on the street.
“Shh!” YN said, although she was laughing. “See. What did I tell you? It's good, right?”
I was in BrownieCraze. “Good?” I cried out in disbelief. “No, Madam. This brownie is genius! This brownie is fabulous! I...this...it....THIS BROWNIE IS FUCKING AWESOME!”
…
Like I said. BrownieCraze.
Anyway. The next day (Wednesday), the brownie was all I could talk about. After school, I made YN come with me to buy more (she bought more, too). While walking home, the same thing happened all over again. The moaning, the disbelief in the taste, and all the wonderful experiences.
For me, Wednesday was the second time I went in. For YN, on the other hand, it was her third time. As soon as we walked in, Mr. Friendly asked us knowingly, “More brownies?”
We sheepishly nodded.
I told my friend Ruby about it, and she asked me to buy one for her, promising to pay me back. So on Thursday, I made plans to go back there and buy two brownies: One for me, and one for Ruby, but YN told me she wasn't going there again.
“Why not?” I asked. “Don't you want a brownie?”
“Yeah, I need two. One for Jasmine (her older sister) and one for Zainab (our friend).”
“Then let's go!”
“No! I can't go for the fourth time in a row! He's going to think I'm a fatass!”
I gave YN my look. My “You're-Very-Bony-And-Not-Fat” Look. She didn't move an inch.
“Eeshie, I'm not going.”
Loser! I found three other people to go with me. One of them took her money and bought her brownies for her, and I bought my own brownies.
Mr. Friendly grinned when he saw that I brought some company, but he didn't say anything. Thank God. That would've been absolutely mortifying...
Anyway, YN and I delivered the brownies to Ruby and Zainab the next day. The entire class went insane, because everyone tried a piece of it from them. We all agreed that it was utterly wonderful.
Ruby paid me back for the brownie on Monday by giving me a chocolate muffin. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed.
I didn't know this, but Ruby is quite the baker! She made the muffin. It was really good and looked store-bought and everything.
Last Friday, Mr. Goldburg threw us a party since we finished one of the math state tests by last Thursday. Before Friday came, Ruby asked him if we could make food for the party, and he told us, "Why not?" So I went over to Ruby's house two Thursdays ago and the two us made...wait for it...BROWNIES!
Yay!
The soft kind! Yay!
I was especially loving this for many reasons:
a) It was my first time at Ruby's house. I had never been there before.
b) I really needed to learn how to make soft brownies, and I was happy with Ruby teaching me
c) Ruby = Awesome
d) Ruby's the one who has the hot older brother that I met during parent-teacher conference. Remember we met him on this post? Yeah. So...you know...I thought maybe he'd be there...?
Hehe. A girl can dream.
I'd never admit to Ruby that I think her brother's hot. Oh, God. I can already imagine what she'd do. She'd....she'd....I don't even know what she'd do. I only know the obvious: She'd slap me.
However, Ruby is a genuinely good person. Seriously. Her heart is the size of a watermelon.
(Just kidding. If someone had a heart the size of a watermelon, they'd be a goner! Haha! Oh...wait...)
The experience, overall, was good. I learned things about Ruby that I did not know before. For example, did you know that Ruby actually lives very far away from this school? Like, with a car it's fifteen minutes. That's pretty far for a New York City school.
So her father came to pick us up. I played up the whole Muslim thing, saying, "Assalamwalaikum" and all that. Hopefully, he likes me. I'm not so sure...
He dropped us off at Ruby's house, and we went in through the back.
The first room was the kitchen, where two prune-like, fragile old people were sitting. They slowly looked up at me when I walked in. I said Salam to them as well.
I think they started talking Urdu with me, but then Ruby said (in Urdu), "No, no! She's not Pakistani!"
Ha. Oh, gosh.
The two old people were Ruby's grandparents. They seemed nice enough, I guess. While Ruby was making us a sandwich, they asked so many questions. It was difficult for Ruby. They would ask in Urdu, Ruby would listen, translate it in English for me, I'd answer, she'd listen, and then translate it back to her grandparents in Urdu. Complicated.
"What does your dad do?" They'd ask me. "What does your mom do? Does your mom make food? What school do you go to? Oh, you go to school with Ruby? Wonderful! Do you like to read? Reading is good. Are you Muslim? Yes, being Muslim is good, too."
At one point, Ruby's grandmother said something long in Urdu that went on and on. Ruby nodded, taking it in. Then she turned to me. "My grandma says you should start wearing a hijab."
My heart dropped, while my eyes flew to Ruby's very own hijab.
"Yeah...you're probably right..." I said, barely audible, feeling guilty and whatnot.
Ruby sensed my discomfort. "Nah, don't worry. She just says stuff like that."
I nodded. Excusing myself, I practically ran to the other room to wait for Ruby's sandwiches...and ran right into a room with her hot older brother. Just...sitting there.
Whoa.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Ruby came up behind me with the sandwiches and surveyed the scene.
"Oh you remember my brother, Liam. Remember he came on parent teacher conference?"
How could I forget a face like that?
"Oh, he did?" I asked. "Really?"
Eeshie = Liar.
Liam looked up from what he was doing (he was eating and was on his laptop in the living room). I gave my usual friendly wave and said, "Hi!"
He replied back, "Hi."
....
WHOOOOOOO!
Ahem. We went upstairs to her room and all that, and then I had to go back down to get my camera. And...and...Liam was laying down on the couch.
I ... tripped.
I was just so caught of guard with the utter hotness in front of me, and slightly embarrassed because I felt like I was intruding. So I forced Ruby to get my camera for me.
EMBARRASSING. Like, really embarrassing. I kind of choked when I saw that.
Ruby showed me around her house and all, and at the basement we came to what looked like a boy's room.
"Who sleeps here?" I asked, eyeing the extremely messy bed.
"Oh. My brother. You know, Liam? Yeah him."
Shit. I tried containing my excitement.
The dude actually has nice clothes. His closet was wide open, and it looked like he had every shirt from American Eagle in there. Nice!
When we got to his desk, I saw a big jug filled with red-tinted liquids near the bottom, and it slowly turned into yellow-tinted as it reached the surface. There were two twigs half-submerged in the liquids as well.
"What is that?"
Ruby looked over at it. She smiled. "Oh. That! That's ... well, that's ... " the smile faded and turned into a frown. "Ew, what the fuck is that?!"
We shared a laugh, and then quickly went back upstairs before Liam could find out that his younger sister brought her friend into his room without permission.
Yeah.
 |
| We're delicious. |
For me, there was basically one major plus for having a friend with lots of family members. Hot dudes.
Dead serious.
It was so ... weird! One hot guy after the other hot guy, they just kept coming! And with every new one, I'd whisper to Ruby, "Who's that?!?" and she'd say, "Oh that's my cousin." And I was like, "Oh..."
They don't all live there, but a bunch of them live close by, so they come around a lot.
And God, there's so much variety! There's the curly-haired gangster-looking smart guy, the conceited, talkative buff guy, the preppy, solemn guy, and so much more. I was like in guy heaven over there.
After Ruby and I managed to bake like 75 brownies, fed ourselves and her family some brownies, and were waiting for the last batch to bake, we talked.
"So. All your cousins live around here?" I asked.
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Lucky. I have like, no cousins near me. The closest one is in upstate New York."
"Really? Damn."
We were silent.
"So you never really get lonely around here, huh? There's always someone in the house?"
She nodded. "Basically."
"Do you ever want to be alone?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes. It feels so crowded sometimes, you know?"
"We should switch for a day. I'm like the complete opposite."
At that moment, her other brother came in. Not Liam, a different one named Ryan. Ryan is ... weird. I don't know. He's probably not weird in reality, but I just call all dudes that like me weird.
Ryan came in. Staring. I ducked. So annoying. Like, he doesn't even make an attempt to hide the fact that he's staring at you. Gosh.
Ruby made him leave. With that, we started talking about brothers.
"Oh, my brother's weird. You've met Yns, right? Yeah, he's weird."
She laughed. "No, your brother's cool! He's like so friendly and all that. My brother's all quiet and shy."
I tried avoiding any talk about Liam, but Ruby saw right through me.
"You think my brother's hot." It was meant as a question, but the way she said it was a statement, waiting for me to prove her wrong and deny it.
"Um..."
"Eeshie!"
"Well, he's not bad looking ... " I said defensively.
She took this the wrong way. "Oh, you can say he's bad looking. I don't care."
"But he's not!!" I screeched. She raised her eyebrows. "I - I mean ... I meant ... he... his ... "
Ah, fuck.
"Well, your brother's cool, too!" I finally said, lamely avoiding the previous question.
"Uh-huh."
I sunk lower into my seat.
The smart thing that most people would do at this point would be to not mention Liam. However, I'm not smart, so I asked like, the worst possible question to ask at a time like this.
"So does your brother date people?"
She choked on her brownie. I smacked her on the back and got her a glass of water.
"What?!"
"No, no! It's not like I'm ... interested. I'm just ... I don't know. Curious, I guess. Muslims aren't really supposed to date, but the way your brothers and cousins dress, you'd never guess that. So do they?"
Ruby denied it. "Never. Absolutely not. They would never."
"You sure? Maybe they keep it a secret ... ?"
"Never. They're just dumbasses."
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure how that last bit had anything to do with them dating people, but I went along with it.
I came home at eight, even though I was supposed to come home at six. Yns started scolding me. What the hell?! He never scolds me! He's one year older than me! I'm the one who scolds him and tells him to wear clean clothes and tells him to do his homework! What the hell happened to our stable relationship?!
Our brownies were a hit at the party the next day. Just thought you should know. Most of the party was spent eating and playing the perverted version of quack dilly oso, which I will not even begin to explain. It was...an experience. A dirty one.
Every Muslim person is supposed to visit the Kaaba in Saudi Arabia once in their lives. It's required. Ruby came back from Saudi Arabia a few weeks ago and brought us GIFTS! She brought me and some other people a matching bracelet and choker necklace. It's SO SEXY. Mine is blue. It's pretty awesome.
And the other part of her gift, and this she only gave to her Muslim friends, was a bottle of holy water. Yes, you read that right. Holy water. That sounds epic right there, doesn't it? For Muslims, whatever you pray for (like, maybe you're praying for a 2400 on your SAT's. Or maybe you're praying for a new lawnmower. Or maybe you're praying to be valedictorian.) is granted by Allah (SWT) when you drink the holy water. It's freaking amazing.
Most people think that it's like, “I want a horsey!” and then BAM! Horsey's sitting right in front of you when you finish drinking! No. Not like that. At all. Things take time and effort, so part of getting what you want involves you actually trying.
So yeah. There's my 'Islamic Lesson Of The Day.' Next week's lesson: CHICKEN: Halal or Haram? Let's find out!
So yeah. There's my 'Islamic Lesson Of The Day.' Next week's lesson: CHICKEN: Halal or Haram? Let's find out!
Looks like it's time for some...
SHAMELESS LINKING!
Sarah and I were chilling in the Sahara Desert, just doing our thang, when all of a sudden, Ash comes out of nowhere, holding a cheesecake. We all sit down to eat, when Boyd comes cruising along in his new car with his long locks flying behind him and offers us a ride.
We hop in and I turn on the radio. The song happens to be by My Chemical Romance. Mischeif Managed's spidey-senses tingle at anything My-Chemical-Romance-related, so she flaps her little wings and flies all the way to us from New York and lands in the car.
We drive on, bobbing our heads to the music. Some way or the other, we end up in Chicago! We pass AByrne , who is grinning happily to himself with that dirty mind of his, and we also see RainboRevolver at the bookstore, devouring every Shakespeare book in sight.
We take a left turn and see L. furiously typing away on her laptop, devising strange new ways to slip the word, "Penis" into her next post. Then, as we pass the costume store, we see Natalie buying last-minute accessories for her ANTI-PROM (Which was really awesome, by the way, you should read that post)
All of a sudden, Boyd loses control of the car and we're about to fall into some random ocean when That Blond Guy swoops down from the sky (all the way from Atlanta, by the way) and somehow saves us all with his glorious, beautiful, luxurious blond hair.
We're all cheering, when Dan and Victoria show up and give us FREE CHEESE FRIES! We're all celebrating and stuff, when a flyer comes out of nowhere and hits me in the face. I read it and see that it's the handout for when Bookish.Spazz was running for Vice President at her school (Dumb All-American Boy won. Meh).
I decide that Bookish.Spazz must win, and we all go to her school and demand a re-election for her. This time, PeaceLoveAndSharpies helps us by using her AMAZING art skills in making posters for her. Bookish.Spazz wins by a landslide!!
Misticalnia, Epicality and Lemons Don't Make Lemonade all join us in a big party for surviving the Rapture (which was never going to happen anyway), and all of our other followers attend and I'm really sorry if I didn't get to link to you and it's basically because I'm really tired right now but I'll get to you for sure on my next post.
WHOO!
God. This linking thing took so freaking long. Blah! But I guess I need to stop being so lazy. At least I did some work. Elmo approves.
Seriously though. My laziness is terrible. Worse than a therapist using Katy Perry lyrics on his patients. Oh, the horror. Can't you just imagine it?
Therapist: So, Mr. Berkely. Do you ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind wanting to start again?
Terrified Patient: W-what?
Yup.
Do you think by my birthday of June 27th, I'll have reached 200 followers? I hope so. I usually get 1 to 5 new followers per day, so June should be more than enough time. Here's hoping!
I like cats. And I like music. Which brings us to...
CATS LISTENING TO MUSIC!
Get with the groove, yo.
