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Yesterday I began a business in Spanish class where Nicolas Cage founds (and makes bi-weekly visits to) a library in Tulsa, Oklahoma that is only a front for an all-gender basement brothel. My spanish teacher wanted to make sure the basement brothel included both male and female individuals that the pocket-heavy patrons could drool over and objectify.
The day before that I discussed the purchase of sex-toys with my assigned workmate in a presentation exemplifying spanish exclamations. Among those used were: "¡Que barato!" (That's cheap!) and "¡Estoy envidiosa!" (I'm jealous!)
my spanish teacher is a golden retriever man. he's got the head of a dog and human hands, though his thumbs are paralyzed. It'd be cheating if they were opposable.
In reality, he's just the Noho Hank/Cristobal of our universe. I actually got him into Barry just because he and Cristobal are the same person. During my sex toy presentation he laughed and asked if we were buying "pacifiers" while making a hand gesture implying dick-sucking. He meant a vibrator, but decided he was correct in saying "satisfier". that man has a wife and a son.
But alas, this post was not opened just for the purpose of slandering my colorful teacher. I just thought it was amusing that I'd reached peak liberal-arts-highschool by reading Nathaniel West while listening to Massive Attack. not a brag, merely an observation (and slight brag). People with constant imposter syndrome should be allowed to brag a little bit. After all, low self esteem is the most respected type of the court-ordered Bragging Rights papers that we are all served out of the womb.
Am I the only one who feels cheated when a McDonalds ad doesn't feature the dah dah dah dah-dah? How dare you interrupt Mezzanine without even your pitiful bell chime?!"Dah dah dah dah-da. Go kill yourself!"
I took a break to play some stupid brick puzzle on my friend's laptop. I know her password now. It's her birthday. am I a terrible person for only knowing her birthday because its her ipad password? nah, I only met her this year. it's fine.
well, this is it. Last month of high school. I will never do any of this ever again. not this this, not that you were thinking this was the this i was this-ing about.
I hope that the few weird posts I've done will be of some entertainment to someone. i know at least one person in particular who will find it funny, if they see this. (myc are you reading? hey man, we gotta call and catch up soon).
The night has opened my eyes. A shower song for eternity in my mind. Nothing makes me feel wetter than the Smiths (in a purely puritanical hygiene way). what i'm trying to say, is that the Smiths is the music for showers, or specifically, shower sex. I'm kidding. but, in all seriousness, I will doxx myself for joseph gordon-levitt if he wants to come over and shower to the Smiths. i think it'd be an eye-opening night for both of us.
why is Margot Robbie making Mary-Jane induced philosophical statements in an advertisement for Chanel watches? isn't Chanel a perfume? (look it up and tell me what you think.)
listen, real talk here. here, come into the kitchen so we're out of earshot of your siblings. i'm really racking my brain here trying to come up with something interesting to say. what's interesting? Blogging is about daily life shit. which is shit. Daily life is overrated.
Batman came to my school today. batman the bulldog <3. he's the pitbull son of my ex-physics teacher/ex-football coach/current-badminton coach. not that Batman is related to Mr. Worldwide and making monthly private school appearances, that'd send the Team Edward girls into early onset menopause (aka, hot flashes).
we need Batman therapy sessions. for both us and Bruce. Animal therapy, bat therapy, Hollywood actor therapy, whatever therapy.
And it's fucking lunch period? shit, that went fast. All is fair in skipping class to "catch up on homework". in fairness, the class is me staring at a stupid Mac desktop for 45 minutes trying to edit a film I shot absolutely terribly. I didn't know what i was making at the time, and now i regret this improvisation. I'm not Amber Heard, i can't make something out of nothing (fucking evil bitch).
help, the chicken caesar wrap has lodged in my throat,
Out to Lunch.
(i hear my spanish teacher somewhere behind me...quick! i must make an escape!)
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myc
reading this felt like when you're on a rollercoaster and there's a big drop and your intestines get squished in your chest but in the best way possible.
also i am reading.
by myc; ; Report
amazing compliment 10/10 thank u
by zan; ; Report