A few words on napping.

I am a high school student.  And one thing about us is that we a re chronically tired.  We rarely get the full, recomended 8 hours.  After a typical day of school, I look something like this:

By the time I get home, all I want to do is to take a nap.  I stagger upstairs to my bedroom, set my alarm, and crawl under the covers. 

Also, my bedroom is hot pink with lime green polka dots. Anyway, I'm a very deep sleeper.  I sleep long and hard.  So by the time I wake up, I am extremely disheveled and confused. I usually stare at my ceiling for about 5 minutes before I remember what time it is, where I am, or even who I am. 

I stumble downstairs and my mom starts asking me all of these questions.  I make noncommittal grunting noises in the hopes that she will leave me alone for a little while so that I can properly wake up.  And then I go play pokemon or something.

I am so stupid.

Here is a story. 

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

Also that girl is me.  Anyway, one day in class, the teacher was all, "New seating chart!" and we were all, "Blargh!" Because if there is one thing we liked about that class it was where we sat.  But teachers don't seem to understand that, so she went ahead and reorganized us. And this is how I became acqauinted with him.

He and I were placed right next to each other.  So instead of doing our work like good little chitlins, we got to talking. 

We talked about all manner of things, ranging from the zombie apocalypse to dreams to shaving. We talked a lot about shaving.  We switched back and forth from Facebook to real life, and after a while, my brain realized something. That something was, "HOLY CRAP THIS BOY IS AWESOME! LIKE LIKE LIKELIKELIKELIKE SUPERLIKE!!!1!11!ONE!!1!"

But I am not a generally expressive person, nor am I a risk taker.  So I wasn't going to say anything; nothing at all. I was going to keep talking to him and daydreaming a little and probably also do a little pining on the side. And then I would get over it. But no, apparently this time that was not a valid answer.  This is what happened:

I interrupted him to tell him that I liked him.  This is the worst part: right before I uttered that monstrosity of a statement, I thought to myself, "Annie, is this a GOOD idea?"  And my brain was all, "No, it is not."  And so I wasn't going to say anything at all. But then I did.  Becuase I am supremely stupid.  Natural selection should have smote me down right then and there, but alas the world is neither just nor fair.
I just sat there and wondered how he took that for the rest of the block.  And now I am afraid that there is going to be a Wall of Awkward between us.  And Walls of Awkward are bad for friendships.

I could just ask him about it, but I am not going to, and here is why:

1. He might have thought that that was a comment about his character
2. He might be ignoring that comment for my sake
3. It might create the Wall of Awkward
4. Also I might get rejected. I don't like rejection because it makes my stomach feel like urk and like a bunch of little unicorns are running around in there and their horns are jabbing my belly and it is very distressing.

The end.

NANANANANA DRUG GIRL!

My backpack is making a rattly noise. It's because I have a fully loaded bottle of Ibuprofen in there.  If there's one thing that I've learned since I've been in high school it's that people always need Ibuprofen. Always. But nobody ever carries it.

That's where I come in.

I swoop in with my cape flowing in the breeze with my drugs, all the while chanting, "NANANANANANANANANANANA DRUG GIRL!"  It wins me friends.

Also, people with painful ailments will love anybody with Ibuprofen. 

Some people might think that being Drug Girl is a burden, but I sleep well at night knowing that I am making the world a slightly less painful place on Monday- Friday from 8 AM-3 PM. 

Baby Zebras

Right now I am waiting for a text that is probably never going to come and listening to saddish music from "Cats".

Also, I am looking at baby zebras. 

Baby zebras may just be the cutest thing in the world. Let me make a list.

1. Baby zebras are like baby horses. Except they have stripes.
2. Their legs are all long and spindly and gangly looking.
3. Their stripes are the wrong color.
4. Their ears are too big.
5. Also they are tiny.

I like baby zebras.  They remind me of "Spirit" except that they are stripey and live in Africa. I have a certain fondness for Africa because all of the animals that live there are FREAKING AWESOME!  They have lions and tigers and leopards and panthers and cheetahs and servals and hyenas and giraffes and zebras and elephants and rhinoceroses and lemurs andandand!  I  kind of love African animals.  Australian animals are a close second, mostly because almost all of the animals from Australia are completely badass and raw.  Australian animals can eat you for breakfast.  I respect that.

Merry Australia to all, and to all a good night!

Singy Shivery Happy Mood!

I'm happy! I'm a shivery singy skippy happy.

I'm a bipolar kind of happy.

I don't really know why I'm so happy, but I am.  (:


Also, here is a dinosaur that I drew on paint:

YAYAYAY!!

Yay!! I pulled the graphite out of my finger! I feel so free!

So I was taking a shower when I looked down at my finger, and I saw a lump of blackness protruding. I was all, 'YAYAYAY! Now I won't have a foreign object stuck in my finger!' Then I reached down to turn the water off,  and OUT OF NOWHERE the showerhead fell out of the holder thingy and landed on the back of my head. It hurt. Then I put it back, and the second I turned around it fell out of the holder thingy AGAIN and hit me in the head AGAIN.

Why do these things happen to me?

Haha, but seriously the graphite was a half a centimeter long. That might not sound like a lot to you, but picture that embedded in your finger. Yeah, I know it's still kind of small. But I expect that it's sort of like a fish story; I embelish a little everytime I tell it. I figure by the time I have grandkids the graphite will have turned into some kind of legit metal and instead of being half a centimeter it will be two inches long.  Kids are gullible. They'll totally believe me. Mwahahahaha!

I hate pencils.

Today I had a bad coordination day.  I have those a lot. 

We were having a bus evacuation, and I don't know if you know how high the back door of a bus is, but it's flipping high.  The gap is taller than your average five year old. I tripped getting off of the bus and went sprawling through the air before miraculously landing on my feet. If I had any skizzles I would illustrate that point for you, but I think that you would be better off with your imagination.

Point two is much more painful and possibly scarring. You see, I am a disorganized mess. I really have no regards for my own presonal safety when it comes to my living standards.  It has caused me some grief.  My backpack is sort of an extension of that, and that is the scene of the incident. I am too lazy to put my pencils in the proper place, so I just sort of toss them into my bag on the assumption that I will find them later. This morning, I reached into my backpack to find such a pencil.  I found it. In my finger. Because it stabbed me.

I jerked my finger out, and upon further examination it seemed that some of the graphite had broken off of the pencil. In my finger. So, I did the logical thing and walked over to where one of my best friends was sitting. She was all, 'ouch'. And I was all, 'No duh'.  Then one of my guy friends offered to remove said graphite. It didn't work, so I went to the nurse. She used an itty bitty needle to dig around my poor, poor finger. When that didn't work, she said, "Well, at least it isn't toxic." She sent me off with a bandaid and told me that it would probably work it's way out of my finger eventually. It was so overwhelmingly relieving to hear that I may or may not have a piece of pencil embedded in my finger skin for the rest of my life.

Here's the best part, though. When I got back to class, a friend was all, 'Did they get it out?' And so I was like, '...no'. And then my teacher felt it fit to inform the whole class of this minor dilemma. Ugh.  Everybody was staring at me. I hate that.

Anyways, I am now thinking about boycotting rouge pencils. The only problem is that I am a nerdgirl and I kind of love pencils. But I also hate them.

ZOHMAHGAWSH INTERWEBZ!!!!111!!!!!1!ONE!!1

Enter stereotypical nerdgirl with an interest in nerdy things. Enter blog from the wrong side of the interwebz.

YAY! PREMISE!

I'm Annie.  I really hate having to make a first post, because I feel like it is important that I acknowledge that "OHMAGAWSH, I HAZ TEH BLOGZ!" But at the same time it feels a little pretentious to say anything. Also it is a first impression, which I hate. First impressions are terrible because sometimes you enter in the wrong part of a conversation and you hear a term that sounds hilarious but is actually a racial slur but you didn't know that because you were an innocent child and you giggle a little and then everybody JUDGES YOU. Ahem. But instead of being a one time thing where I leave a single person with a horribly misconstrued and unintentionally hilarious impression of myself, I'm leaving the six people that accidentally find this thing with a horribly misconstrued and unintentionally hilarious impression.  And six is more than one.

Actually, if you think about it, every post I ever make could be a potential first impression. Holy flipping crap. This means that I have to keep my typing fingers limber.  Yay for limberness.

So... yeah.

I actually tried planning this post out. Except in my mind it was a lot less awkward and a lot more awesome.

Here is a picture of a fabulous chair that I may

or may not be asking for for Christmas next year.

RAWR!