Celebrities: Then and Now, Part Dos! Oh, And I Wanna Go To Princeton. Just Letting You Know.

Can you believe it? It's my...

Brother's birthday tomorrow!

I think I deserve a party. I mean, he deserves a party. Tell me when you're having it. You're all invited. Buy me, I mean him, some cake.

So! To celebrate the fact that it's my brother's birthday tomorrow! , I once again gathered pictures of celebrities before they became famous and compiled this post for y'all. Yes, yes, I know my brother really has nothing to do with celebrities. But oh well! Who do you think looks most similar to their childhood photo? Most different?

Katy Perry Then:

Katy Perry Now:

Rihanna Then:

Rihanna Now:

Leonardo Di Caprio Then:

Leonardo Di Caprio Now:

Taylor Lautner Then:

Taylor Lautner Now:

And a bonus celebrity!

Britney Spears Then:

Britney Spears Now:

So. Any favorites?

Moving on!

I suppose you're all waiting for me to say something witty and funny and unexpectedly hilarious. Well, I'm sorry. I don't have anything to say.

Just kidding!

So, the rest of this post is basically a whoooooooooole lot of pictures. And of course, a clever remark from me here and there. Shall we begin?

This is a bowl! A bowl!! I made it!! ME! I made it in sixth grade for some project that involved ancient Chinese people! And, well. This is supposed to be expensive porcelain, but in reality, it looks like someone constructed it out of Crayola Model Magic and painted little flowers on it with watercolor paints.

Not that I know anything about it...

This is what my hair looks like when I straighten it. Sigh. If only it'd stay like this all the time. Actually, I think I could pass off as Asian right now. You know – Chinese people? I look like I have CHINESE STRAIGHT HAIR!! YES! Again. Sigh. If only my hair stayed like this forever.

Harumph. Not fair that Chinese people are the ones that get straight hair. I want straight hair! Oh, and by the way, my hair isn't this long anymore. This was how long it was last July, in 2010. And that was about roughly seven or eight months ago. I cut it in December. I don't think my hair grew that fast...oh my God, what if I have magical fast-growing hair?

And does my hair look brown or black to you guys?

This, my friends, is PRINCETON. I went there last August (because it's my DREAM college) and it's gorgeous. Absolutely, stunningly gorgeous. I took pictures of everything!

I took pictures of the windows...

I took pictures of the various tunnels separating buildings...

I took a picture when I looked up at a building...

I took a close-up tunnel picture...

I took a picture of the roof...

I took a picture of this tree...

I took pictures of a Harry Potter like hallway/tunnel that seemed to stretch on forever...

I took pictures of this bike...

My already-in-college friend took pictures of these bikes...

It was a pretty wonderful, amazing, watermelons experience.

What's your favorite children's book? I certainly can't pick just one. But some Honorable Mentions would have to be Rainbow Fish and Harold and the Purple Crayon. And, of course, Goodnight, Moon. I know that some of my readers may not have ever heard of these books (I have readers ranging from Singapore to Costa Rice to Pakistan to Australia), but look it up! These are actually quality stuff. In my opinion, at least...

...

It's Friday, Friday. Gotta Get Down On Friday.

Looking at the title, you can probably guess what ridiculousness I'll be mentioning in today's post.

Rebecca Black.

You must have heard of her already. Her music video Friday got millions of views. But not because it's amazing -- because it freaking stinks. Really. It's laughably bad.

And just to prove it to you, here's a sample of her lyrics:

Yesterday was Thursday,
Today it-is Friday,
Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after...wards

Really, Rebecca? Do you really think we needed to know that? Do you think we're so freaking stupid that we need you to teach us the days of the week?

Try not to commit suicide while watching this.




I hope you guys are still alive. Like, were the lyrics seriously about her debating which seat to take in the car? I mean, not that her "friends" are old enough for a legal driver's license or anything. And what was with all the head-bopping? They were all trying to be cool and whatnot? And what the hell was with that 50-year old black man rapping towards the end? Who is he?!

And on that note...


Hello, friends! As you probably already know, I haven't blogged since Monday. Monday. I've been blog-starved, meaning that I've been wanting to post, but I've had test after test after test after test. And I probably failed all of them, so I guess the hours upon hours upon hours of studying did nothing.

Or not...

Thursday (which was yesterday), we were given a math test that I had absolutely no time to study for. Which stunk. Bad. Fortunately for me, I wasn't hopelessly lost like I thought I'd be. I was getting through it at a steady pace, and before I knew it, I was done.

I began checking my answers, when I heard the girl sitting behind me (Hazel) whisper my name.

"Eeshie! Psst! Eeshie!"

Carefully watching Mr. Goldburg (mentioned before in this post), I turned around.

"What?!"

"Can you get that paper for me? It's under your desk."

I looked under and saw a crumpled piece of paper that looked like garbage. I looked back at Hazel and gave her my look.

"What?" she asked.

"Why am I picking up garbage?"

She lowered her voice. "That's MH's answers."

My eyes widened. MH, my friend who I've mentioned numerous times before (such as in this post), is one of the best in math for my class. And she gives her answers out like crazy (Which I disapprove, of course). She's perfectly fine with letting people cheat off of her, but I'm not.

Anyway. Back to the story!

My eyes widened as I saw the crumpled piece of paper that represented gold right now. Everyone wanted her answers. I gave it to Hazel and whispered, "Give it to me when you're done."

*Sigh* I'm a bad kid.

...Or am I?

Hazel finished copying and gave it to me. I took a deep breath, and told myself I'd only be comparing answers. So I put our sheets side by side...and felt my heart drop when I saw different answers for so many problems. Oh, no...I was upset. Even the answers I felt confident about were different from hers.

I took hold of my eraser to change my answers...and then I stopped. NO! She's not Einsten. Maybe you got the answers right? DON'T CHEAT!
*Sigh* I gave the paper to someone else, proud of myself for not cheating, but upset at the fact that I'd be getting a bad grade now.

...THINK AGAIN.

Today, we got our scores back! And while MH and about the whole class got 87%, I GOT A 93%. And, he added 5 points to everyone who's had all their homeworks, so I GOT A 98%. YEAH, BABAY.

Life is good....
In other news, Wednesday rained like crazy in the morning. Fleur and I were trudging along to school, already cranky because of the weather. And you know what made us even more cranky?

Metal detectors. NYPD. Oh yes.

It was freaking stupid. We turned a bend to enter the school through the cafeteria, and BAM! There was a huge line full of people huddled under umbrellas, and they were moving what seemed like inches every ten minutes.

What the hell is going on?

Fleur and I obviously had to join this line, even though we didn't know what was going on yet. I was really pissed, because I was missing my double period of science. I need double periods of science.

Eventually, we found a kid who knew what was happening.

"They're checking for cell phones and knives and shit," she said, popping her gum.

Fleur and I exchange worried glances, reaching for our phones.

"But, but why? They never told us we couldn't bring phones."

"Actually, it's a school policy. You're not supposed to bring phones. And they wouldn't tell us, cause' this is supposed to be a 'random check'."

"So...they're going to take it away?"

She nodded.

Fleur and I looked at each other again, each of us thinking the same thing: OH $HIT!

First, we thought about putting our phones in our backpacks. We scratched that idea, cause they'd obviously check our backpacks first. Then, we thought about leaving it outside in a secret place only we'd have access to. But the risks for losing it were great, Finally, we decided on sticking our phones in our bra.

Hey. We were desperate. Don't judge me.

The line moved up an inch.

"UGH! I'm missing science!" I groaned/whined to Fleur.

Eventually, Fleur and I got into the building. Our jaws dropped, because our cafeteria had been altered into a freaking airport. They had those full-body metal detectors such as these:

And they also had those conveyor belt-type ones, like these:

I couldn't even recognize my school cafeteria. It was like being in some sort of secret underground headquarters. Or something.

When we went inside, we were put on an even bigger line, with many policemen/women yelling about where to go.

A kinder looking black cop was telling everyone to put anything metal inside our backpacks. I took this as a chance to find out what was happening.

"Um, what are you guys searching for?"

He smiled. "YOU."

Eh?

Anyway, I eventually got to the front of the line. I gave hope on the bra-cell phone plan when I saw the full-body metal detector. There was simply no way out of it.

I put my backpack on the conveyor belt and walked through the metal detector, cringing at the loud beeping. From there, they sent me to another line for people who rang. Which was pretty much the whole school.

I saw a lot of my friends on that line. Go figure.

Two of my friends, Cindy and Ophelia, were really angry. They had no phones on them, yet they had somehow rung and were sent to the line I was in. Ophelia was taken to the metal detectors again to recheck her backpack, and they later found out that the only reason she rung was because of a few quarters.

Wowwwwwwwwwww.

Cindy still did not know why she had rung. Then, one of the Hispanic policewomen started yelling at me in her screechy voice and made me stand with my feet spread out with my hands out in front of me, holding a basket. Then, she checked all over with the handheld metal detector. She was pretty harsh with it, too.



This was what I had to do, except that the lady wasn't as nice as the one shown above. Also, I had to hold my arms out in front of me while holding a basket. Not sure what the basket was for...

After that, she made me get into this really awkward position of leaning against the table and raising one leg in the air, which kind of resembled a dog peeing, but I didn't say anything.

Soon, I was put onto another line.

"WE NEED TWO PEOPLE FROM GRYFFINDOR! TWO PEOPLE!"

Cindy and I decided to get it over with and headed towards a table with our dean, Mr. Sherman (as mentioned before in this super old post). We were told to fill out some stuff, and then Cindy said to him, "I don't have a phone on me. I don't know why I rang."

She left to get rechecked (and later, we found out that it was her camera), and then it was just me.

"So, what do you have?" Mr. Sherman asked me.

"Oh, um, uh..." I said, still flustered about missing class. "I think I have science...?"

He tried hiding his smile. "No, no, I mean what do you have?"

I was confused. "Er...I have science. A double period with Mrs. Marshall?"

By now, he had a wide grin and was laughing at my stupidity. "No, no! I mean what electronic do you have?"

I smiled. "Ohhhhhhhhh! I have a phone!"

"Really?!?! Hand it over."

Shit. I handed it over. He gave me a slip and told me not to lose it, as I'd be getting my phone back through this slip.

Well, everyone was cranky and itchy the rest of the day, at least until seventh or sixth period. We got our phones back, and you could almost hear the kids relax.

It was weird.

And it was only then that I found out why this was all happening.

Obviously, they didn't tell us the real reason. No schools do that, especially if it's some horrible reason. If parents found out about the real reason, they wouldn't let their kids come back to this place. No, the schools told everyone that the random scan was just something that they've been wanting to try for a while. And if that didn't shut you up, they told you stubbornly that the NYPD (New York Police Department, for those of you bright ones who couldn't figure this out) has the right to check kids whenever they want.

But the real reason?

Remember MH's ex-boyfriend Michael who got arrested on this lovely post?

Yeah. More trouble.

Apparently, around 4th period on Tuesday, he got into a fight with some kid. At first, they were just insulting each other verbally. Then, they got into skin. And then, Michael (who I'm pretty sure is insane), whipped out a knife from his pocket and slashed the guy near his neck.

...

...I'm just going to let that sink in for those at home.

And that's when everything fell apart, and they had to call NYPD and get metal detectors.

*Sigh* And to think that MH dated this crazy guy.

...

Well, I guess that's it. And since I have to leave on a good note, I guess I'll share one more story. It's short. Don't worry.

I was walking home with people, and we came to a curb. I blindly kept walking, even though everyone else had stopped. All of a sudden, all these honks and beeps come out of nowhere. I scurried back to my little curb. The school bus that had originally been trying to pass went by. And then, a black man driving the bus scolded me with his finger from inside. Kind of like this, but from a bus.



Excuse me. I'm a pedestrian, so you have to stop by the law.

So we continued on our merry way. Then, we got to the next curb. And this time, coming from the opposite direction, was the same black guy. And this time, the driver's seat was on my side. And his window was open. Again, he scolded me with his finger, smiling. I laughed like crazy, motioning with my hands, What did I do?

It was pretty funny. Actually, now that I think about, it was kind of weird. And stalker-ish. In fact, who goes one way, only to go back the other way in five minutes? WHAT's WRONG WITH HIM?

Watch this after you watch Friday. It's hilarious. WARNING: There's lots of cursing, so maybe you should put the speakers low...in fact, watch it with headphones. Or better yet, watch when no one's home.

But I'm telling you. It's hilarious.

Hey, do you guys remember my Pictures of the Day? I used to have those...I miss those days. Might as well end with a good one now:

Enjoy yourselves.

Don't Disappoint Me!

God! Don't you hate it when you're the third wheel?

We had science test-prep after school today, and there were only five people that showed up. Two of my good friends, one of my best friends (MH) , and that best friend's new boyfriend, James.

It was extremely awkward. After test-prep was over, I began slowly backing out of the room to get the hell out of there, when MH spotted me.

"EEEEEEEEEESHIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Damn! I longingly cast a look towards the doorway before turning back around.

"Yes?"

"Where are you going?!? I thought we were walking home together!!"

James and I exchanged looks. "But...I thought you and James were going to hang out...or something..."

She waved it off. "No, no, we're not doing anything! I want to walk home with you!"

I'm still not exactly sure if James was telling me to stay or leave but he said something. I couldn't really decipher it...

"Why do you want to walk home? We can do it some other time...I wouldn't want you to take time away from hanging out with your boyfriend..."

James smiled at me. He gave MH an excited look that said, She has a point!

MH pouted. "Are you sure?"

By now, we were walking out the side doors of the school.

"Yes, MH. I'm sure. I don't even live that far!" (A complete lie, which she knew)

"But we live so close together!!"

Eventually, we reached an end.

"Are you really sure?"

"Yes, MH. I'm like, totally sure."

At that moment, James yelled out, "OH $HIT!"

We turned around towards where James was looking, and MH burst out into girly giggles (Gah. I hate it when girls giggle. Haven't I taught you, MH?!)

"What, what, what?"

In between gasps and breathless laughter, she managed to say, "Thats -! James' -! Dad's -! Car -!"

James was biting his lip, extremely embarrassed all of a sudden. Waving from a nearby car was James' father in a small, white car, eager to pick him up.

"HAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAH!" MH screamed in delight. "HAHAHAAHAH! OH MY GOD, HAHAHAHA! BYE, JAMES!"

James shook his head at MH as he walked off, smiling despite himself. MH and James were always best friends before he randomly asked her out last week. Weirdness...and this is the same girl whose ex was arrested, which I described in this post.


SO.

A lot of people say that Victoria Justice and Nina Dobrev look like identical twins. I never thought this was true, until I saw this picture:



Nina Dobrev (left), Victoria Justice (right)


And then I was like, "Holy Shamoley! They do look alike!" But the thing is, I like one of them better. But I don't know if most people would agree with me.

And that's where my fellow blog-readers come in!

I have compiled a series of pictures of Victoria Justice and Nina Dobrev, side by side, wearing similar clothes (Victoria Justice is always going to be on the left side, and Nina Dobrev is always going to be on the right side). Look through them carefully. When you're done, leave a comment saying who you think is prettier. Yeah, I know. What I'm asking you to do is really, really, really rude to these people, as if they're just some animals to be poked and prodded at. But they're celebrities! They chose this life, and they knew they were going to get poked and prodded at. So, BOO HOO. Oh well.

 You can say who you like better as an actress as well. But I'm more looking forward to who you people think is prettier.

And my guy readers. Please comment with your choice. I'm very, very curious...

So. Get lookin'. I'm not revealing my pick until you guys comment (I don't want to sway anyone's opinion, so...)

Well. Here it is:


 



Victoria Justice

 

Nina Dobrev

































Victoria Justice

 


Nina Dobrev

                                                                                            

                                                        
                                                                      

         

Tell me, tell me, tell me!

*Note: Both of these women are beautiful people; I'm not saying one is better than the other. I just have a particular favorite. And I'm sure you do too. So, I'm not trying to offend anyone here.

...

My God. I shouldn't even have had to include this here asterisk to give the message. You people should know this already. In fact, I'm going to erase this whole thing!
...

Nah, I'm keeping it. But seriously. Comment. Please. I'm lonely.

You Know You Want Some Of This...

Holy crap! It's ME! It's ME! It's really, really ME! I sexy-fied myself!!

And by "sexy-fied," I mean I made it black and white-ish. This picture was taken afterschool on a cold but sunny January afternoon (Don't you hate those days? Sunny, but super freezing cold?). I'm in my ugly, navy blue uniform, but I have a bright red full-sleeve shirt underneath to give my outfit some

POP!

Unfortunately, my hair looks whack in this picture. Whack, I tell you. Especially my sidebangs. Where's the silkiness of my bangs that's present in reality? It's NOT THERE. Plus, my hands look...weird. I don't know, they just do.

Anyway. Don't I look hot? I think I look hot.

Hello, my little bloglings! Somehow, my last post got a whopping 26 comments. WHOA. That's like, a lot. Well, for me at least. I'm pretty happy about it.

I'm really mad. We took a huge science test yesterday and today, over 150 questions. I seriously think I failed it. WAH!

Which is saying a lot, because I never fail in science. WAH!

I'm sad. WAH!


Anyway. My first poll closed some weeks ago, and these were the results:

 Which of these Subjects Make Your Heart Tingle?

English                        8 (42%)    
Yay! 42%! English class is awesome, and I know you writers out there would agree with me.

Math                           1 (5%)       
Meh. Not sure I would call Math class "awesome." I think Id' call it sticky. I don't like sticky things, and I don't like math. Makes perfect sense.


Science                        8 (42%)   
Now science. Science is awesome.

Engineering                0 (0%)     
Hmm. Guess no one likes engineering out there, huh?

Fine Arts                    6 (31%)     
I like Fine Arts. That's like painting and stuff, right? Yeah...

Performing Arts        6 (31%)    
I just knew that Fine Arts and Performing Arts were going to get the same number of votes. And look at that! I was right.

History                       2 (10%)      
History's cool with me. It really depends on the teacher, and what time period/place we're studying.

Other                          7 (36%)       
Dang. "Other" got seven votes. Maybe I should have  included more choices...? What did you guys mean by "Other"?

 

I've decided that I will be taking the train to that really hard-to-get-into-and-special school I was talking about a couple posts ago. It takes two hours to get there from where I live, but subway's the only way I can get there. Of course, there is the private bus. But it costs a freaking $2,200 or more for the whole year. Ew. Plus, it just sounds too nerdy. Can't you just imagine the conversation?

Guy smoking a cigarette: Yo...the 6 Train took forever to get to my stop...

Me: Oh, really? That's too bad.

Guy: I don't get how you get to school so on time and all that everyday...

Me: Well, I take the private bus!

Guy: *Looks at me in disapproval* Dude.

Me: At least now I won't get jumped! *Snort, laugh, snort*

My goal is to never let this conversation happen.

 The thing is, you should never look like you're scared of getting raped or something while traveling in New York City. That immediately lets people know that:

a) You're freaking scared.

b) You are one hell of an easy target

c) It would be so easy to jump you

d) You are inexperienced

e) You're freaking scared.

I'm just saying, don't go around with this face:

My point is that train will not be so bad (By the way, if you haven't realized yet, New Yorkers call the subway “train.” We don't call it “subway.). As long as I'm careful, I think I'll be fine.

And now, to end this pretty much pointless post with a flourish, a little something I found on the web that immediately reminded me of Christopher.

Aw. 


Where were you born?

Ode to the Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal -Written by Fu-zu Jen, SEAS/WH, 2003  

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and b!tching about what a$$holes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/gorgeous their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative b!tches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to kiss this complete a$$ now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.