Okay okay okay..
Okay, well. I feel compelled to write again (I know! So quick like!) because first of all, my spam? Really entertaining. For me anyhow. I'm not even deleting it.
Since when is "penis enlargement" coming up with witticisms? Why does "penis enlargement" kind of think nobody cares about me? Oh, penis enlargement, you're so clever, but why are you trying to make me feel bad about myself? You are penis enlargement!! Let's not project our little insecurities onto others. TSK TSK.
Not to mention, I am a girl. So all the more amusing.
This was going to be an entry about wedding stuff, and how sometimes I make proclamations that land me in trouble, or worse, that force me to do work, but, people!
Listen, things have changed dramatically in the last six minutes! Now, it is going to be an entry that is about the feathered spawn of Satan currently taking over the school campus, because, you guys? I was just physically attacked. By birds. Small ones. What the HELL?
Seriously! They're watching me right now. I am not exaggerating. Their eyes are saying words. And those words are "Come here Chelsey, let us near you.. let us taste you.."
Here are the basic facts, which I will lay out for you:
(1) There are birds.
(2) They want to kill me.
(3) They are everywhere.
That is all.
I have been totally absent for a long time.. I have been a busy girl these past few weeks/months. Busy! Moving into my new place (Hey! Guess what! I moved into my new place! Feel free to send expensive gifts), trying to get school underway, Emily coming into town –
it’s been crazy around here.
I'm not gonna lie though.. it's been busy, but I could've popped in every once in awhile. I'm so far behind, ugh. Hot crackers.., hi! So, guys, there are a million things to tell you about, and I've been stuck trying to figure out where to begin.
Whoookay. So. Let's just get caught up, yes? But I'm going to give you the cliffnotes.
It all kinda started back in December. I met this wonderful boy..
All it took was that one date and we both knew this was it. We were forever.
January 4th, we "confirmed" our relationship, via Facebook.. because peeps, it ain't nothin' until it's made public to the masses.
I decided also, that day, that I was going to follow him wherever he went.
And so here we are.. well, just watch..
Okay, so now I've been receiving all sorts of messages and texts asking why I'm blogging in myspace and not on my blogspot. Friends, my family and co-workers are subscribed to that blog. I have nothing family friendly to blog about at this time. I have to protect my public image, whatever it is.
Most of the people in my life I can only communicate with through the computer or phone, I understand that when I stop writing, signing on to my fb/myspace and ignore texts/calls, it could cause suspicion that I may have joined a cult, am spending another couple weeks in rehab or am possibly dead.
Sadly, that is not the case.
INSTEAD, the case is that I have been so suddenly and painfully overwhelmed with work that I have completely lost contact with the world outside of my office,
OH! Speaking of the 80's! (someone out there has to be speaking about the 80's), nevermind, lost that thought and I am far too lazy to backspace and delete that...
My house is dirty and I have officially entered that point in Poltergeist where the little girl gets all sucked into the TV (only to be spit out 20 years later as the Ring girl? Hello, new theory!), because clearly, this house is not clean. It is not at rest. The house is haunted by the dead love of Shelley Long and Tom Hanks in the Money Pit (oh look, there you go, an 80's reference!), and I am kind of to the point of recognizing that, if it happened in that movie, we can be relatively certain it’s going to happen at my own address. The ghosts have been watching late nights on TBS, and they have been taking notes.
If you work your ass off and are consistantly so stressed out that it's painful to even speak, and then you finish everything and realize that, oh: now I kind of have a nice weekend to look forward to, then maybe you will do something productive with your random abundance of time. Maybe you will volunteer for the Peace Corps, or learn how to cook. Maybe you will take that opportunity to catch up on your pathetic emailing, because every time you even look at your inbox, the weight of the unanswered and unread mail makes your brain go hazy with terror. Or, hello, maybe you will just do some friggin' laundry already, as you have pretty much reached the point where you are clothed only in a loincloth and hair, because nothing is clean, exactly NOTHING, and you are seriously considering just BUYING some socks and underwear instead of actually washing those which you already own, because that is the kind of laundry-backlog we are discussing. Maybe that is what you will do with your unexpected downtime.
Or. On the other hand, you could just sit on your ass and stare vacantly at the television set watching everyone become infected with Rabies and brutually killed in the cinematic masterpiece that is "Quarantine". Ugh. After the movie was over, it was time to go to bed. Before this could happen, I had to clean Jack's cage. I knew that the broom was in the attic.
Here is how the conversation with myself went.
-"Um, I'll just clean this with a paper towel".
- "Are you too scared to go into the attic?"
"NO! Watch me."
Current mood: amused
Hi there! Hope you are not looking for something good! Because, I have been a little busy. And apparently, as demonstrated below, I do not have the time for complete sentences. Aren't you psyched?
No?
Hmm, predictable. So like you.
Ahh, I really don't have much to say. I just sorta felt like blogging. You see, I am alone right now. And these sorts of things happen. I've got so much on my mind. And just SO much that I want to talk about which I cannot...and so I won't. I will say that I really wish I could turn back time and I will leave it at that.
Y'know how you can be really smart about some things, but really, phenominally stupid about others?
It is about sixteen hundred degrees in this house. I am informed that the heat is stuck on high, but I do not know how to fix this.. This does not help me very much.
I actually called the Police about 45 minutes ago...
And which is also just wrong, but additionally scary as all hell, and at one point, I became convinced that I was about to be murdered. Because I kept on hearing these huge banging noises, when I was supposed to be all alone in the house, but guess what?! It was not a murderer. Instead, my neighbor was outside, fixing his lights, and through a miracle of physics and what-all, it was echoing into MY house. It was all a load of fun and terror, and before I learned this helpful bit of information, it is possible that I armed myself with scissors and a stapler, and roamed the house all Mission-Impossible-ing around the corners, scared out of my friggin' mind. And totally prepared to prod and collate someone to death. Because you NEVER KNOW. KILLERS FEAR STAPLERS. I believe.
Dude, kind of scanning over this blog. What the EFF am I talking about? Two glasses of wine will do that to ya.
g'night.
-C
Okay seriously, where do some girls get off being such wenches?
This isn't a personal deal, I'm not having any social issues, but seriously...some chicks think they can just speak their mind without being reprimanded.
A lot of my guy friends are with these girls that are just....sick. Like, I literally get bubble guts imagining their snooty little faces.
I'm pretty chill, I like almost everyone, I'm a down to earth kinda gal. I guess it's because I don't put myself on this pedestal.
Meeker's girlfriend Sarah, is a darn dirty ho. Sometimes, I daydream of slapping her face upon a cheese grater and tuning up that pointed nose of hers.
Is that mean? I'm sorry. But a lot of guys that are in my life right now are dating the SKANKIEST, GREASIEST, filthy a** slutbags I have ever met. A couple guys even MARRIED them.
RANK.
Gosh, such effin' hoochies. All I have to say is
LIFE IS NOT A GARDEN, SO STOP BEING A HOE.
I need to stop drinking Hatorade.
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