Dear Sydney,
I'm irritated beyond belief at the moment. I could just choke the next thing that moves. But I won't because, well, I'm way too freaking nice of a person to cause harm to anyone on purpose. Unless, like, I have kids and some psychotic person murders one of them. Then I will be forced to leave the house with a butcher knife, a hammer, a baseball bat, and a machine gun, and take off after the asshole.
Not like I'll ever have kids with the way boys are these days.
Yes, I'm in Irritation Nation, just try to ignore my angry teenager-ness.
So. I don't know why I'm in bowling league sometimes.
I suck.
Almost more than boys do. Which, as you know, is a whole heckuva lot.
Seriously. I'm so aggravated with my scores today that I refuse to list them in here.
All I'm gonna say is that my average is a 125, and I didn't get it once today. So I'm pretty pissed off at the moment. And my friend Adam, one of the nicer guys I know, was being a jerk of a boyfriend to one of my better friends Amanda. Which proves that even the best of boys are still jerks. I'm so sick of it, rar. Watch out, men. No wait, BOYS. Men don't exist. BOYS do.
I swear, if I ever meet Mitchel Musso, and he turns out to be a huge jerk, I might just go jump off a cliff. Because then there's no hope left for me.
Stupid Jonathan didn't call last night either.
THREE DAYS AND NO CONVERSATION WITH THE BOY WHO MAKES MY STORMY DAY FULL OF SUNSHINE.
I GIVEEEE UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.
:D
Much love to everyone, except BOYS, 'cause you are useless vaccuum cleaners, clearly only existing to assist women in the act of reproduction. I want to throw you all down into a giant hole right now, and we females can just grab one to use whenever we need to produce children.
AHHHHHHH.
Okay. Goodbye now before I explode.
Kaylee
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Bye Bye 30 Days of Vaccuum Cleaners?
Dear Sydney,
The past two days have been pretty nice. Sort of? So, uh, hooray for niceness.
I saw the movie "30 Days of Night", and I'm not gonna lie, I about peed my los pantalones quite a few times... Like, those vampires seriously gave me the heeby jeebies! And I don't even know what heeby jeebies are, but I sure as heck had them... I'm guessing so anyways. If you get the 'heeby jeebies' when you're terrified, well then, I owned 'em last night, fasho.
I must've jumped eight thousand times during that movie. Occasionally I would accidentally bump my friend Moe on her arm, and she would jump a hundred feet in the air off of her seat. I think I did that like five or six times. Ehe? It was alright, though, because if I was scared at the time, I started laughing and it would get rid of my heeby jeebies for about two seconds. So that was cool.
At one point, this guy in the movie had a giant light to scare the little vampies away. And you're like "YEAAHHH!!" all excitedly and happily. And then his light goes out. So me, Moe, and like two or three other people in the movie theatre all went, "AH SHIT!" all at the same exact time. Then everyone there started laughing pretty hard.
For some reason during scary movies, I always put my hands in front of my face and watch the screen through my fingers. It's pointless because it's not like I'm hiding from what's going on in the movie at all. I can see everything. I guess each and every finger on my hand acts like a security blanket or whatever. Or maybe it's just that those vampires were so effing scary that I was cowering my hands over my face so that if one would suddenly appear in the empty theatre seat next to me, my cheeks/mouth/eyes/nose/pimples/whatever would be protected? No, that sounds dumb, never mind that.
Maybe it was just because I like grabbing my face like a psychotic retard, I don't know. Or care. So why do I keep babbling about this?
Moving on.
I had dance team practice for two hours today. WHEN WE DIDN'T HAVE SCHOOL. So I didn't even get to sleep in. I was only mildly tempermental about this... *sarcasm*
I hate kicklines. A lot. My legs are too short for them. How the heck can anyone expect them to kick all the way up to my neck if the length TO MY NECK is still not tall enough than what everyone else can do? If they seriously want me to do that, they're obviously going to have to chop off my legs and find me some freakish Barbie looking ones. Since you know, if Barbie was a real person, she supposedly would be like eight effing feet tall. So maybe I wouldn't want Barbie ones. But nice ones. Like... Kari, this sophomore girl on my dance team. She dances a lot even off-season, so her legs are very beautifully straight. And she's not a midget. Unlike me, who is cursed with it for the rest of my life.
I went to a play tonight. "Bye Bye Birdie". It was okay... some of the people performing, though, kinda sucked. But the main roles were picked wonderfully. The back-up people were just kinda like... well... let's just say there was this one girl who just pretty much sat down and started bawling on the stage in the middle of a scene, so the curtain had to go up while they had to carry her off stage or something. And this other girl was dancing up there looking so insanely happy that I half-expected her head to pop off from smiling that hard. I was like... wow. No. Just.. no.
Apparently this year, our school is doing a production of Bye Bye Birdie. I'll try out, I just don't have the greatest singing voice in the entire world, despite being in my school's chorus, so I won't get a lead role. I'm hoping I'll get the biggest part you can get that doesn't involve singing. I can't sing solo in front of people. It doesn't work. I open my mouth, and this freakishly weird sounding squeak of air comes out. And my cheeks burn. And then I can't breathe, and... it's just a huge emotionally scarring mess. Yep yep.
Jon hasn't talked to me in these past two days.
It makes me depressed because I like him so much and he always makes my day 83579933673 times better.
Oh well. I'm sure he's talking to (and stupidly hugging... and stupidly kissing... and holding her stupid stupid hand) his stupid girlfriend plenty enough for the stupid both of us.
Ugh. Why I tell you?! WHYYYYYYYY.
Oh wait. I know.
CAUSE BOYYYSSS SUUUUCKK.
That's right, boys, you all suck. Worse than vaccuum cleaners. So stop sucking so much. Breastfeeding should've ended years ago. (If you don't get what I mean, boys, oh well. It obviously means you're stupid. Which I already know.)
Boys, basically.. stop being jerks and realize who honestly cares about you, and when you do, don't treat them like doggy doodoo. Thank you.
Well, I'm off to bed. My venting is done. Any further, and you are going to think I need to go to a psychiatrist. (Which, I actually have been to, just like Oliver does in my fanfic, but that's a whole different story and venting topic I don't need to go into at the moment.)
Much love,
Kaylee <3
The past two days have been pretty nice. Sort of? So, uh, hooray for niceness.
I saw the movie "30 Days of Night", and I'm not gonna lie, I about peed my los pantalones quite a few times... Like, those vampires seriously gave me the heeby jeebies! And I don't even know what heeby jeebies are, but I sure as heck had them... I'm guessing so anyways. If you get the 'heeby jeebies' when you're terrified, well then, I owned 'em last night, fasho.
I must've jumped eight thousand times during that movie. Occasionally I would accidentally bump my friend Moe on her arm, and she would jump a hundred feet in the air off of her seat. I think I did that like five or six times. Ehe? It was alright, though, because if I was scared at the time, I started laughing and it would get rid of my heeby jeebies for about two seconds. So that was cool.
At one point, this guy in the movie had a giant light to scare the little vampies away. And you're like "YEAAHHH!!" all excitedly and happily. And then his light goes out. So me, Moe, and like two or three other people in the movie theatre all went, "AH SHIT!" all at the same exact time. Then everyone there started laughing pretty hard.
For some reason during scary movies, I always put my hands in front of my face and watch the screen through my fingers. It's pointless because it's not like I'm hiding from what's going on in the movie at all. I can see everything. I guess each and every finger on my hand acts like a security blanket or whatever. Or maybe it's just that those vampires were so effing scary that I was cowering my hands over my face so that if one would suddenly appear in the empty theatre seat next to me, my cheeks/mouth/eyes/nose/pimples/whatever would be protected? No, that sounds dumb, never mind that.
Maybe it was just because I like grabbing my face like a psychotic retard, I don't know. Or care. So why do I keep babbling about this?
Moving on.
I had dance team practice for two hours today. WHEN WE DIDN'T HAVE SCHOOL. So I didn't even get to sleep in. I was only mildly tempermental about this... *sarcasm*
I hate kicklines. A lot. My legs are too short for them. How the heck can anyone expect them to kick all the way up to my neck if the length TO MY NECK is still not tall enough than what everyone else can do? If they seriously want me to do that, they're obviously going to have to chop off my legs and find me some freakish Barbie looking ones. Since you know, if Barbie was a real person, she supposedly would be like eight effing feet tall. So maybe I wouldn't want Barbie ones. But nice ones. Like... Kari, this sophomore girl on my dance team. She dances a lot even off-season, so her legs are very beautifully straight. And she's not a midget. Unlike me, who is cursed with it for the rest of my life.
I went to a play tonight. "Bye Bye Birdie". It was okay... some of the people performing, though, kinda sucked. But the main roles were picked wonderfully. The back-up people were just kinda like... well... let's just say there was this one girl who just pretty much sat down and started bawling on the stage in the middle of a scene, so the curtain had to go up while they had to carry her off stage or something. And this other girl was dancing up there looking so insanely happy that I half-expected her head to pop off from smiling that hard. I was like... wow. No. Just.. no.
Apparently this year, our school is doing a production of Bye Bye Birdie. I'll try out, I just don't have the greatest singing voice in the entire world, despite being in my school's chorus, so I won't get a lead role. I'm hoping I'll get the biggest part you can get that doesn't involve singing. I can't sing solo in front of people. It doesn't work. I open my mouth, and this freakishly weird sounding squeak of air comes out. And my cheeks burn. And then I can't breathe, and... it's just a huge emotionally scarring mess. Yep yep.
Jon hasn't talked to me in these past two days.
It makes me depressed because I like him so much and he always makes my day 83579933673 times better.
Oh well. I'm sure he's talking to (and stupidly hugging... and stupidly kissing... and holding her stupid stupid hand) his stupid girlfriend plenty enough for the stupid both of us.
Ugh. Why I tell you?! WHYYYYYYYY.
Oh wait. I know.
CAUSE BOYYYSSS SUUUUCKK.
That's right, boys, you all suck. Worse than vaccuum cleaners. So stop sucking so much. Breastfeeding should've ended years ago. (If you don't get what I mean, boys, oh well. It obviously means you're stupid. Which I already know.)
Boys, basically.. stop being jerks and realize who honestly cares about you, and when you do, don't treat them like doggy doodoo. Thank you.
Well, I'm off to bed. My venting is done. Any further, and you are going to think I need to go to a psychiatrist. (Which, I actually have been to, just like Oliver does in my fanfic, but that's a whole different story and venting topic I don't need to go into at the moment.)
Much love,
Kaylee <3
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Seeking the Adorable
Dear Sydney,
Is there something wrong with me? Do I have some sort of mysterious boy repelling disease that I don't know about? I mean, seriously. I've been thinking about this today, and I've decided there must be a giant, pink neon sign above my head that says "DON'T DATE THIS LOSER, BUT FEEL VERY, VERY FREE TO LEAD HER ON FOR THE NEXT SEVEN MONTHS, OR HOWEVER LONG YOU WANT, HANDSOME!" whenever I approach a boy or something.
I'm not ugly. But I know I'm not like America's Next Top Model. Or even the next NEXT top model. (Bad wit, sorry.) It's just that I never do anything wrong to a guy.
I guess it's really always the BOY that does something wrong. It seems I can't exactly fall for the nice guys out there because, well... I don't know actually. Jerks are more my type? As sad as that sounds, it always turns out that way. Bad thing is, they never look like jerks at all. I never fall for the "OMG LIKE HE'S TOTALLY HOTTER THAN THE EFFING SUN" type of boys since we all know they're all only in it for some panties action. (Um, ew.)
So instead, I seek out what I like to call the "Adorable". Basically, they're never like, surfing dude Gorgeous, but they aren't ugly, and they always have the same kind of personality. They have this cute, witty kind of humor that draws me in and snaps the mousetrap on me before it's too late. It's 'ADORABLE'.
However, I always, always end up getting royally screwed over because there is always some beach-blonde abercrombie model looking girl in my way, who happens to like the Adorable, instead of the surfer dude Gorgeous, like they should because, well, they're BEACH-BLONDE ABERCROMBIE MODEL LOOKING GIRLS! You'd think they'd take a second out of their lives and realize this planet does not only revolve for them, but for the low-life dorky girls out there like me as well.
Currently, I'm half-in-love with one of these Adorables named Jon. Half-in-love because I don't love him. Well, as a friend, yes. I only like him as more. Not love. I've only loved one boy outside my family, and I'm really not going to start on that subject, even though you should expect many future entries about him. He annoys me. A lot...
Er.
So this Jon Adorable guy. He actually used to be one of my best friends. Will it work out like it does in all those movies? No. Of course not. Then I'd be happy, which you know, can't obviously happen.
He lives in another state. Almost four hours away, too. He moved away from me and left me here. He has a girlfriend (weirdly enough, she's not beach-blonde, she doesn't wear abercrombie, and she's not a model, although, she is extremely pretty, and a scene kid, nothing of which I can amount my scrawny, dorky self up to).
But, he's Adorable. One of my best friends actually. And therefore, the mousetrap has been snapped shut on my tail, and I'm pretty much screwed/stuck until another Adorable pops up to come ruin my life like they always do.
Alright... that's over. I'm done venting about how I cannot achieve the position of an Adorable's girlfriend.
Something else I cannot achieve?
Height.
Really. I just may be shrinking instead of growing.
I hate being so ridiculously short for my age. At seventeen I should be about 5'3" in my opinion. But I'm unfortunately two inches shorter than that. Today at dance team practice, I was ridiculed by being the shortest girl on the team.
Which reminds me, I HATE LOOKING UP AT THE FRESHMEN. They don't deserve to be looked up to. I'm a senior. I should be looking down at them and making them wet themselves in fear. But, no. Who's gonna pee their pants over a teeny, tiny dwarf-girl? Oh, wait, NO ONE.
Anyways, that's my finished ranting of the day.
I think I need a job. My mind should not be focused on boys this much. But I guess that just comes with the whole, "I haven't had a boyfriend in two years" deal. The single-ness gets really old after all...
So I really could use some chocolate right about now. I'm feeling pretty sick... *cough* and chocolate is really the only way to go at this point. That's it. I'm getting some.
Chocolate, that is. Not... oh, just get your minds out of the gutter. Please?
Much love,
Kaylee
Is there something wrong with me? Do I have some sort of mysterious boy repelling disease that I don't know about? I mean, seriously. I've been thinking about this today, and I've decided there must be a giant, pink neon sign above my head that says "DON'T DATE THIS LOSER, BUT FEEL VERY, VERY FREE TO LEAD HER ON FOR THE NEXT SEVEN MONTHS, OR HOWEVER LONG YOU WANT, HANDSOME!" whenever I approach a boy or something.
I'm not ugly. But I know I'm not like America's Next Top Model. Or even the next NEXT top model. (Bad wit, sorry.) It's just that I never do anything wrong to a guy.
I guess it's really always the BOY that does something wrong. It seems I can't exactly fall for the nice guys out there because, well... I don't know actually. Jerks are more my type? As sad as that sounds, it always turns out that way. Bad thing is, they never look like jerks at all. I never fall for the "OMG LIKE HE'S TOTALLY HOTTER THAN THE EFFING SUN" type of boys since we all know they're all only in it for some panties action. (Um, ew.)
So instead, I seek out what I like to call the "Adorable". Basically, they're never like, surfing dude Gorgeous, but they aren't ugly, and they always have the same kind of personality. They have this cute, witty kind of humor that draws me in and snaps the mousetrap on me before it's too late. It's 'ADORABLE'.
However, I always, always end up getting royally screwed over because there is always some beach-blonde abercrombie model looking girl in my way, who happens to like the Adorable, instead of the surfer dude Gorgeous, like they should because, well, they're BEACH-BLONDE ABERCROMBIE MODEL LOOKING GIRLS! You'd think they'd take a second out of their lives and realize this planet does not only revolve for them, but for the low-life dorky girls out there like me as well.
Currently, I'm half-in-love with one of these Adorables named Jon. Half-in-love because I don't love him. Well, as a friend, yes. I only like him as more. Not love. I've only loved one boy outside my family, and I'm really not going to start on that subject, even though you should expect many future entries about him. He annoys me. A lot...
Er.
So this Jon Adorable guy. He actually used to be one of my best friends. Will it work out like it does in all those movies? No. Of course not. Then I'd be happy, which you know, can't obviously happen.
He lives in another state. Almost four hours away, too. He moved away from me and left me here. He has a girlfriend (weirdly enough, she's not beach-blonde, she doesn't wear abercrombie, and she's not a model, although, she is extremely pretty, and a scene kid, nothing of which I can amount my scrawny, dorky self up to).
But, he's Adorable. One of my best friends actually. And therefore, the mousetrap has been snapped shut on my tail, and I'm pretty much screwed/stuck until another Adorable pops up to come ruin my life like they always do.
Alright... that's over. I'm done venting about how I cannot achieve the position of an Adorable's girlfriend.
Something else I cannot achieve?
Height.
Really. I just may be shrinking instead of growing.
I hate being so ridiculously short for my age. At seventeen I should be about 5'3" in my opinion. But I'm unfortunately two inches shorter than that. Today at dance team practice, I was ridiculed by being the shortest girl on the team.
Which reminds me, I HATE LOOKING UP AT THE FRESHMEN. They don't deserve to be looked up to. I'm a senior. I should be looking down at them and making them wet themselves in fear. But, no. Who's gonna pee their pants over a teeny, tiny dwarf-girl? Oh, wait, NO ONE.
Anyways, that's my finished ranting of the day.
I think I need a job. My mind should not be focused on boys this much. But I guess that just comes with the whole, "I haven't had a boyfriend in two years" deal. The single-ness gets really old after all...
So I really could use some chocolate right about now. I'm feeling pretty sick... *cough* and chocolate is really the only way to go at this point. That's it. I'm getting some.
Chocolate, that is. Not... oh, just get your minds out of the gutter. Please?
Much love,
Kaylee
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sydney Vs. Kaylee; an Intro to Me
Dear Sydney,
I would say "dear diary", but that is so cliche and unoriginal. Something I clearly don't want to be. Besides, "dear diary"... Yeah, it pretty much screams "I'm a hopeless seventeen-year-old drama queen, living in a world she complains about every stupid day, whilst also juggling teenage love, and the backstabbers we high schoolers call our BFF's".
So when I say "dear Sydney", it makes me forget for a brief, happy moment that I'm classified as the brutal statement above.
And Sydney is truly an awesome name. I'm still unsure of why I wasn't fit to live with it. I mean, okay, I'll give my mom a break being that she had to endure a zillion hours of labor just to pop me out. I'm guessing that due to drugs, she must've been like, "KAYLEE! Let's name her Kaylee!" instead of going with what she and my Uncle Dave had intended to name me, AKA Sydney, the most awesome name in the world, that I wish I could type in the corner of my English essays instead of the ugly, boring "Kaylee" as I'm subjected to now.
I really should beat my dad over the head with a stick over this matter. But I guess it's not entirely his fault. My mom was probably quite the monster during labor, and after her declaration of my name, he most likely didn't even want to attempt to disagree with her. I can only imagine how truly terrifying my mother must've looked. She was probably all red and blotchy in the face, make-up-less no doubt, but then again, I'd love to know someone who actually goes through labor looking super model gorgeous the entire time. It's not possible.
People continually say to find a guy who thinks you look the best at your worst, but I just don't know. There is no way a guy is ever gonna look at me on a hospital bed, puffing and huffing and screaming away, and think to himself, "That is the most amazingly beautiful woman I have ever seen." Because, no, you KNOW you've seen better than that, believe me.
So anyways, I'm unfortunately stuck with the burden of the name Kaylee. Upon asking my mom over the reasoning of my name, I've found out I was actually named after someone. Actually, two someones.
She said, "I read in the newspaper once that a couple, named Kay and Lee, had just given birth to a daughter. They combined their names to make Kaylee, and I liked the name."
So basically, I'm figuring that two random people, no doubt Chinese or something (I mean, 'Lee'? C'mon), are walking around with happy little smiles on their faces, without a clue in the world that they are the reason I suffer every single day. Basically, I'm hunting down this 'Kay' and 'Lee' and shooting them for leaving me cursed with this name. And then give a pitying look to their poor daughter.
I guess it's not really that bad. I'm just still a bit upset that I only found out two weeks ago that the Momster was actually going to name me my favorite name ever, but instead, chose some weird Chinese-ish name, which doesn't help when it comes to people pointing out that I look somewhat Chinese.
I don't, though. I have huge brown eyes, not squinty weird ones (no offense to the chinks out there... and that sounded racist in itself, ugh, I suck). I was actually voted this year in my senior class as "Best Eyes". Not to brag or anything, but... Okay, yes, I'm bragging. But I just thought that was pretty cool.
Anyways, never expect me to REALLY talk about my day in here. I mean, okay, go ahead and expect it sometimes. I will occasionally, but I'm basically just going to use this thing to rant and vent in. Myspace doesn't offer the privacy away from my high school that I'd like. I'm pretty much screwed if this blogspot place becomes a hit there.
Which it won't. We are a high school literally surrounded by cornfields. We have a total of not even THREE HUNDRED students all together, seventy-five percent of which are hicks and tend to farm for fun(?) for some weird reason, while the twenty-five percent I include myself in... We're somewhat civilized and just don't belong there Seriously. If any of those seventy-five percent hicks ever saw this entry, they'd literally jump out of their seats and be like, "OmGZzz she typezzz guuud!!!" Well, okay, more along the lines of, "Dang tootin'! What's this newfangled 'blog' thang?"
I apologize; that's total exaggeration.
... Eh, for some people anyway.
I'm quite sorry that I have to begin a blog with such a terribly boring entry. And yes, feel free to cower under a rock at my grammar.. Even though I'm not sure why you would want to 'cower under a rock' when I'm sure you're sitting on a chair that is readily available to cower under instead..
Um, yes, anywho, I tend to write and use big words and phrases and sentences and .. I'll stop now. Basically speaking, just words a seventeen-year-old such as myself wouldn't normally use. Yes, I'm seventeen and using my spare time to write in this blog thing. Whoop-dee-freaking-do. I have no life. Maybe I should just be shot and get over this suffering through my teenhood.
Believe me, future postings from me are sure to scare the living daylights out of you because I've been known to talk about three topics more than just about anything else.
The first topic would be love. You see, I experienced true love, fell victim to its clutches, and... eventually fell into a depressing dark, black hole in space that I'm not really sure if I ever came out of. So, I'm not one of those hopeless romantics that talk of love and yet, they know nothing about it. I learned the hard way about it after a year of happiness... to just have it all crash down with a sickening plummet. You'll mostly find me ranting about this if I'm having a bad day because I usually stick to more depressing topics that actually have nothing to do with my day when said bad day occurs.
My second topic... boys. Oh, yes, boys. The bane(s?) of my existence. I have been thrown around so much that I don't even know what a nice boy is anymore. They all have these beautiful alluring eyes, to which I fall under their captivating spell, and eventually... I'm sitting in front of the computer telling all you fine people how horribly wrong someone is for me, or how a boy has gotten a hold of my heart and won't let go even though he is a perfect example of evolution gone wrong... although, I am a Christian, so the theory evolution doesn't really pertain to me.
Third topic? Absolute randomness. This is what I talk about when I am in a good mood. You can find me ranting about Hannah Montana or my fanfics in these kinds of moods, my extremely strange dreams (believe me, I have had the same dream of a T-rex destroying my town since I was like, eight), my unabolishable (is that even a word?) love for Diet Dr. Pepper, Vitamin Water, subway pizza, spaghettios, or peanut butter... and other such stuff that no one really cares about except myself.
Well, now that I've kinda introduced you.. Except, well, to FF-net'ers. You can find me there as Broken Oken. Read and review my stories... "Dear Stupid" is apparently what I'm known for on there. It's a Moliver and sure to give you a chuckle or two, as my many loyal fans have told me. A zillion hugs to those people <3
Good enough for a first post? Alright. Sounds lovely.
Much love,
Kaylee <3
I would say "dear diary", but that is so cliche and unoriginal. Something I clearly don't want to be. Besides, "dear diary"... Yeah, it pretty much screams "I'm a hopeless seventeen-year-old drama queen, living in a world she complains about every stupid day, whilst also juggling teenage love, and the backstabbers we high schoolers call our BFF's".
So when I say "dear Sydney", it makes me forget for a brief, happy moment that I'm classified as the brutal statement above.
And Sydney is truly an awesome name. I'm still unsure of why I wasn't fit to live with it. I mean, okay, I'll give my mom a break being that she had to endure a zillion hours of labor just to pop me out. I'm guessing that due to drugs, she must've been like, "KAYLEE! Let's name her Kaylee!" instead of going with what she and my Uncle Dave had intended to name me, AKA Sydney, the most awesome name in the world, that I wish I could type in the corner of my English essays instead of the ugly, boring "Kaylee" as I'm subjected to now.
I really should beat my dad over the head with a stick over this matter. But I guess it's not entirely his fault. My mom was probably quite the monster during labor, and after her declaration of my name, he most likely didn't even want to attempt to disagree with her. I can only imagine how truly terrifying my mother must've looked. She was probably all red and blotchy in the face, make-up-less no doubt, but then again, I'd love to know someone who actually goes through labor looking super model gorgeous the entire time. It's not possible.
People continually say to find a guy who thinks you look the best at your worst, but I just don't know. There is no way a guy is ever gonna look at me on a hospital bed, puffing and huffing and screaming away, and think to himself, "That is the most amazingly beautiful woman I have ever seen." Because, no, you KNOW you've seen better than that, believe me.
So anyways, I'm unfortunately stuck with the burden of the name Kaylee. Upon asking my mom over the reasoning of my name, I've found out I was actually named after someone. Actually, two someones.
She said, "I read in the newspaper once that a couple, named Kay and Lee, had just given birth to a daughter. They combined their names to make Kaylee, and I liked the name."
So basically, I'm figuring that two random people, no doubt Chinese or something (I mean, 'Lee'? C'mon), are walking around with happy little smiles on their faces, without a clue in the world that they are the reason I suffer every single day. Basically, I'm hunting down this 'Kay' and 'Lee' and shooting them for leaving me cursed with this name. And then give a pitying look to their poor daughter.
I guess it's not really that bad. I'm just still a bit upset that I only found out two weeks ago that the Momster was actually going to name me my favorite name ever, but instead, chose some weird Chinese-ish name, which doesn't help when it comes to people pointing out that I look somewhat Chinese.
I don't, though. I have huge brown eyes, not squinty weird ones (no offense to the chinks out there... and that sounded racist in itself, ugh, I suck). I was actually voted this year in my senior class as "Best Eyes". Not to brag or anything, but... Okay, yes, I'm bragging. But I just thought that was pretty cool.
Anyways, never expect me to REALLY talk about my day in here. I mean, okay, go ahead and expect it sometimes. I will occasionally, but I'm basically just going to use this thing to rant and vent in. Myspace doesn't offer the privacy away from my high school that I'd like. I'm pretty much screwed if this blogspot place becomes a hit there.
Which it won't. We are a high school literally surrounded by cornfields. We have a total of not even THREE HUNDRED students all together, seventy-five percent of which are hicks and tend to farm for fun(?) for some weird reason, while the twenty-five percent I include myself in... We're somewhat civilized and just don't belong there Seriously. If any of those seventy-five percent hicks ever saw this entry, they'd literally jump out of their seats and be like, "OmGZzz she typezzz guuud!!!" Well, okay, more along the lines of, "Dang tootin'! What's this newfangled 'blog' thang?"
I apologize; that's total exaggeration.
... Eh, for some people anyway.
I'm quite sorry that I have to begin a blog with such a terribly boring entry. And yes, feel free to cower under a rock at my grammar.. Even though I'm not sure why you would want to 'cower under a rock' when I'm sure you're sitting on a chair that is readily available to cower under instead..
Um, yes, anywho, I tend to write and use big words and phrases and sentences and .. I'll stop now. Basically speaking, just words a seventeen-year-old such as myself wouldn't normally use. Yes, I'm seventeen and using my spare time to write in this blog thing. Whoop-dee-freaking-do. I have no life. Maybe I should just be shot and get over this suffering through my teenhood.
Believe me, future postings from me are sure to scare the living daylights out of you because I've been known to talk about three topics more than just about anything else.
The first topic would be love. You see, I experienced true love, fell victim to its clutches, and... eventually fell into a depressing dark, black hole in space that I'm not really sure if I ever came out of. So, I'm not one of those hopeless romantics that talk of love and yet, they know nothing about it. I learned the hard way about it after a year of happiness... to just have it all crash down with a sickening plummet. You'll mostly find me ranting about this if I'm having a bad day because I usually stick to more depressing topics that actually have nothing to do with my day when said bad day occurs.
My second topic... boys. Oh, yes, boys. The bane(s?) of my existence. I have been thrown around so much that I don't even know what a nice boy is anymore. They all have these beautiful alluring eyes, to which I fall under their captivating spell, and eventually... I'm sitting in front of the computer telling all you fine people how horribly wrong someone is for me, or how a boy has gotten a hold of my heart and won't let go even though he is a perfect example of evolution gone wrong... although, I am a Christian, so the theory evolution doesn't really pertain to me.
Third topic? Absolute randomness. This is what I talk about when I am in a good mood. You can find me ranting about Hannah Montana or my fanfics in these kinds of moods, my extremely strange dreams (believe me, I have had the same dream of a T-rex destroying my town since I was like, eight), my unabolishable (is that even a word?) love for Diet Dr. Pepper, Vitamin Water, subway pizza, spaghettios, or peanut butter... and other such stuff that no one really cares about except myself.
Well, now that I've kinda introduced you.. Except, well, to FF-net'ers. You can find me there as Broken Oken. Read and review my stories... "Dear Stupid" is apparently what I'm known for on there. It's a Moliver and sure to give you a chuckle or two, as my many loyal fans have told me. A zillion hugs to those people <3
Good enough for a first post? Alright. Sounds lovely.
Much love,
Kaylee <3
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