Happy Valentine's day or, in other words, only-fun-for-couples day. I'm sorry but what kind of sadistic idiot would create a day that makes all singletons want to hang themselves? He is most likely dead, however if any of his relatives are still out there, on behalf of all the single people in the world: screw you. "Love is all around", you say- well it isn't for us, okay? And seeing other people in love does not, contrary to your belief, bring us any amount of joy whatsoever. It is, in fact, complete and utter misery.
So, instead of being out somewhere celebrating Valentine's Day with my non-existant boyfriend, I'm stuck inside, deliberating whether to bebo-stalk or mourn my single life for a while longer. There is nothing fun about being single, I can assure you. ( Cue violin music).
I think I'm going to go for lunch in Pizza Hut with Caters tomorrow and consume a pizza that probably contains about 50 million calories. But why should I care? I can get fat all I want, because it's not as if anyone is ever going to fancy me. I mean I might even have a more successful love life as a fatty, even if it does mean that I'll have to go out with someone's who's equally obese.
Why doesn't Brody Jenner go to Belfast High? I'll tell you why: because you need to be considerably below average in the looks department to go to Belfast High. Oh, and it's probably advisable to have no personality whatsoever as well. That may be a bit harsh as I can't say that's true for every single male in the whole school. Unfortunately for our year, lower sixth stole all the hotties. Buggers. I guess it doesn't matter all that much that the guys in our year are all ugos, since they all want to have sex with each other and become professional wrestlers when they leave school. And they wonder why we're not falling head over heels for them...
I am so so glad to be off for half-term, even if it is a measly two days. Hopefully I'll manage to get at least one homework done tomorrow or Saturday. If not, oh well, there's always Monday night.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Friday, February 08, 2008
"Pain throws your heart to the ground, Love turns the whole thing around"
Okay, I am officially the worst and least loyal blogger that the blogging world has ever seen.
In my defence, I have been completely inundated with homework these past few weeks. Ironically, they've mostly been for English Lit. Yes, you did indeed hear me correctly: English Lit- in other words, the subject which I've got about two homeworks for over the past two years.
Chances are that I didn't even do those two homeworks.
Miss Miller has been off "sick" for the last week, which, I imagine, is code for hiding from the wrath of Mrs McKeown. To be fair to Miss Miller, I would never want to return to school again if I knew I had to face confronting that psychopathic hairsniffer. In Miss Miller's place, we now have a teacher called "Miss Doherty". She's actually quite a nice woman, if you try to look past the fact that if you stuck a pointed hat on her, she'd look like a 21st century witch. She may be making me a bit less remedial at Chaucer, but I'm still undecided as to whether that makes up for the fact that she is probably performing some sort of voodoo spell on me under her silent mumbles.
French class has become slightly less stressful, since we now have a full time teacher. He may ressemble a sloth and have the most unfortunate surname ever possible ( purvy), but he knows his stuff, and will help me get an A. That's what's important at the end of the day.
*
I've recently been attempting to come up with some sort of structured idea for my 18th, which doesnt involve having a party i.e. having to invite people that I know would only be coming to get completely wasted and have sex in the toilets. So, I have finally come up with a plan: hire a limo for an hour and a bit, go to a nice restaurant for dinner, then go to beach club the following night. I particularly like the idea of the limo, since it'll make us pretend that we actually do have a bit of class, despite our unavoidable desire to bellow "huoooge" every time mr butterskinned potnoodle-drinker walks past, as well as our multiple attempts to learn "bad touch" word-perfect.
Tomorrow, I plan to go into town with Caters, possibly do some homework tomorrow night, then watch lost on Sunday. Life gets no more exciting than this.
In my defence, I have been completely inundated with homework these past few weeks. Ironically, they've mostly been for English Lit. Yes, you did indeed hear me correctly: English Lit- in other words, the subject which I've got about two homeworks for over the past two years.
Chances are that I didn't even do those two homeworks.
Miss Miller has been off "sick" for the last week, which, I imagine, is code for hiding from the wrath of Mrs McKeown. To be fair to Miss Miller, I would never want to return to school again if I knew I had to face confronting that psychopathic hairsniffer. In Miss Miller's place, we now have a teacher called "Miss Doherty". She's actually quite a nice woman, if you try to look past the fact that if you stuck a pointed hat on her, she'd look like a 21st century witch. She may be making me a bit less remedial at Chaucer, but I'm still undecided as to whether that makes up for the fact that she is probably performing some sort of voodoo spell on me under her silent mumbles.
French class has become slightly less stressful, since we now have a full time teacher. He may ressemble a sloth and have the most unfortunate surname ever possible ( purvy), but he knows his stuff, and will help me get an A. That's what's important at the end of the day.
*
I've recently been attempting to come up with some sort of structured idea for my 18th, which doesnt involve having a party i.e. having to invite people that I know would only be coming to get completely wasted and have sex in the toilets. So, I have finally come up with a plan: hire a limo for an hour and a bit, go to a nice restaurant for dinner, then go to beach club the following night. I particularly like the idea of the limo, since it'll make us pretend that we actually do have a bit of class, despite our unavoidable desire to bellow "huoooge" every time mr butterskinned potnoodle-drinker walks past, as well as our multiple attempts to learn "bad touch" word-perfect.
Tomorrow, I plan to go into town with Caters, possibly do some homework tomorrow night, then watch lost on Sunday. Life gets no more exciting than this.
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