THE THIRD DAY OF VALENTINES...

I needed Jesus on here sooner or later

*If there is one good thing about my school, it’s the “Late Start” on Wednesday. So instead of having to be revived at the crack of dawn, I can get up at 8:30 at the latest (!!!). 

 I have to say. This day has been good to me. First of all, because it’s *Wednesday. Second, because in Spanish today WE PASSED OUT VALENTINES! *ear-splitting squeal*

 NACHO (the name has finally been revealed) apparently liked the Valentine I made him, at least according to Sheila. So my work was productive. Yay. I got a Valentine too, and when I read it, I was totally girl-ing out: blushing, smiling, and having to stop my self from laughing out loud (which caused me to do this weird hiccup-thing). It was pretty much the sweetest thing that anyone has ever written about me!

 That is until I got to one line of the charming poem: Tus ojos son como el cielo. (source)

 THE FIRST THOUGHT:

 *Before my statement: In spanish, we don’t call each other by our real names. We call each other by our “Spanish Names”. For an example, my “Spanish Name” is Sierra.*

“El cielo” can be translated into “sky”. At least that’s what we learned in this class. The problem with this is that my eyes are browner than brown. Last time I checked, the sky was blue...

 So, either this person is blind, or has the completely wrong person. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had the wrong person. That would just be so typical for me. 

 If you are this mystery man and you know for a fact that the girl you like has blue eyes, you’ve got the wrong Sierra. So get off my blog, fool.

THE SECOND THOUGHT:

 I was kind of sad thinking that this wonderful person had mistaken me for another in our class. Just to make sure, I did what any normal student would do if they needed to look up a word in Spanish. 

 Google translate.

 So I looked up “el cielo” in this Spanish homework necessity, expecting “sky” to show up and expecting to probably look up at my ceiling and sulk about my life. I hit the translate button and the word “heaven” came up.

Your eyes are like heaven.

 Wow... 

 I’m still speechless, ahaha.

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- To Mystery Man, 

I am so thankful for the card, and I just want to say that I really, truly love it (if you ment my eyes are like heaven) (if not get out). Ahaha I’m just so flattered that you think of me this way. Actually, you must be fricken blind because the Sierra in 5th period Spanish that I know is an awkward loser with unkempt, frizzy hair. I guess she’s doing it right, huh?

Love, Sydney (aka Sierra)

Keep indulging on those chocolates for moral support, ladies. Just two more days left!

THE SECOND DAY OF VALENTINES...

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  I’m watching Gossip Girl as I’m writing, so if it sounds like I’m a wee bit distracted, I totally am. :)

 As the day of red hearts approaches, endemic girls storm the local Victoria’s Secret and the low-key lingerie shops. And it's not just the bra spree, all females have definetly up-ed their lash, lips, and blush makeup game this week... some over-doing it just a tad. 

 There is a high point during this dour week. And this is due to (believe it or not) a Spanish assignment. Last class, our teacher called us up to pick from her bundle of “The Sticks”, or popsicle sticks that have our name written on them. After picking a name, (girls pick a boy and boys pick a girl) (Well, actually there are three boys that had to draw another boy because there is a lack of the female population in my class) we are instructed to create a Valentine’s Day card for them. And for a grade. 

 Part of the grading rubric is to write a poem about our person. 

 So, here is the poem I wrote for my “Secret Valentine”:

Tú eres raro y interesante,

Como un elefante.

Tú ríes mucho y ruidoso

Eres alto como un oso.

No lleva anteojos

Pero, tienes pantalones extraños

Pareces simpático

Y este poema es fántastico.

(source)

I know it’s a little bit lame, but I’m actually pretty proud of it! 

 And I also know that all of you little creeps want to know who exactly is the lucky mystery man I picked (I’m being sarcastic when I say “lucky”, of course) but alas, I’m going to call him “Anon” for right now. Don’t panic, he will be revealed when his card is open.

 And that’s that for day two!

 Hasta luego betches and have a wonderful Tuesday. Hopefully it's filled with chocolate and The Notebook. 

THE FIRST DAY OF VALENTINES...

5 Couples couple-ing

4 Day weekend!

3 More days until friday

2 Extremely attractive boys

And 1 Sydney crying in the corner.

Happy Monday, y’all. I’m so incredibly sorry that I haven’t been writing for a while but I have been in a butt-load of crap (including homework and mental breakdowns) thus my absence from this from this blog. 

 So now I’m watching Gossip Girl (I’m slightly addicted) and thinking about studying for a Vocab Test tomorrow. 

 And that is that. I'll write tomorrow. *kisses*

"GEOMETRY" YOU SAY "BULL SHIT" I SAY

Study Relief:

 You’re entirely welcome.

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Now for your story:

Geometry is Bull Shit

 Now that I have intrigued you with my very metaphorical mind, you must hear the true struggle of being me.

1. DAMMIT #1
2. DAMMIT #2

#1

 So right when I walked into class and I saw all of the supplies laying out on my teachers desk, I knew that we were going to be doing something different today. A few minutes after the bell rang, our teacher passed some of the supplies back and before we all knew it, we created our very own 

protractors. How absolutely uncanny.

 He then grouped our rows together so that we formed three gigantic masses and sent us outside to measure the angles of some of the school's buildings. So we had to leave the nice, warm classroom and emerge ourselves into the coldness of the late morning. Seriously, it was fucking freezing outside. We all looked like dragons because of the visibility of our breath. Another annoying thing about the weather was that it wasn’t even cloudy. It was incredibly bright. I had to squint while walking around because of it. 

 Before I continue, there is something I have to add. There aren’t that many attractive boys in my class, but the one that IS NOT one of the many basketball nerds happens to be one of the most popular, intimidating guys at my school. And I’m not going to lie, he isn’t ugly. 

 So I’m roaming around like I’m blind because it was very bright, so I couldn’t see anything, and it was cold and I was tired because I had to get up at the fricken crack of dawn for school today. We ventured further into the campus and crossed a stretch of grass. Ahead of me, some people looked back the ground and grimaced. I didn’t think nothing of it until Mr. Everything turned around at looked right at me and then down at my feet. I kind of processed what happened right when I smelled it.

 The good thing is that I didn’t step in it. But holy shit, I was close. Being your awkward queen, I didn’t even look down. I just looked straight across from me, and with a tight, emotionless face I said, “Did I step in it?” which is so incredibly stupid because I would've been able to feel the icky, squishy sensation of it if I did, now wouldn’t I? I also may have blabbered some other awkward and unnecessary forms of ramblance. Then I looked at Mr. Everything and he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a withering gaze or maybe a look of annoyance. I don’t know. All I know is... ugh.

#2

 We ended up finishing the activity later than expected, which was great because it certainly beat the insanely long and boring notes we usually always do. 

 I must have been so shaken up from almost ruining my shoes and the withering gaze and the pressure to finish this really hard worksheet he had just passed out because at the end of the class, I just shoved everything (or so I thought) in to my bag and ran out of there. 

 So I came home from school, and I went into my back pack to start my homework so that I can go to the gym later this afternoon. I reached in to find my pencil case, and Woa-la no pencil case. It sounds silly that I’m being paranoid about the most stupidest thing (a missing pencil case) but I NEED IT! It has my favorite pencil, all of my science extra credit (which I will definetly need this semester), and my calculator (which I REALLY need for fricken Geometry). And not knowing where the hell it is (I SWEAR I put it into my bag) is really freaking me out. So tomorrow, I have to go to my math class again to go ask to see if it's there. And if I can't find it there, then I would have to go to my english/yearbook class to see if I carelessly left it there. The bad thing is that I hate being in teacher's classrooms unless I’m required to be there. So I’m not to excited to pass either of my teachers an extra visit. 

 Moral of story: I hate Geometry and boys make me too nervous.

BLOGGING AND THE OPPOSITE SEX

*A Small Note:*

I’ve ranted about this to a few people, so for the people that already know what I’m kind of talking about: sorry you have to go through this again.

Part 1: ACTUAL Blogging

 One thing that I don’t see a lot of is blogging in general. Of course there are a tone of “tumblr girls” and “tumblr boys” who own their “tumblr blogs” but I’m not referring to those at all. I have a tumblr, and I am addicted to it. Like seriously, I don’t understand why reblogging pictures could be so fun and so time consuming to me but what do you know. It totally is. I never really pictured tumblr as what you would call and “actual blog” (ie this thing that you are on currently) infact I reblogged a statement that some one made that is so incredibly true that I actually had to think about it for a while, “how is any of this considered blogging?” (via odair.tumblr.com) How true is this? So now, if I ask you if you have a blog, and you say that you have a tumblr, I will first follow you on tumblr because I will forever be addicted but I wouldn’t label you clearly as a blogger in my mind.

Part 2: ACTUAL Blogging Males

 There is something that is even RARER than general blogging. This is blogging men. I’m not talking about the pasty, overweight, middle age men who have nothing better to do but spend all of their free time on their computer shoving Doritos down their throat ranting about video games or stalking girls online. Because believe me, that isn’t attractive at all. What IS attractive though is teenage boy bloggers who just want to have a place to rant about their school and society and just the life of growing up as a teenage boy in their generation. As I kind of hinted above, I think that if you were a boy at my school, or at any high school for that matter, and you obtained a legitament blog (NOT a tumblr, but I would still follow you if you did, ahaha) I would be SO MUCH MORE attracted to you. I think that all blogging is a piece of art, and I think that anyone who has the balls to talk and sort out things on the internet with the whole entire world watching is very courageous and, well, real. I think it’s incredibly sexy. 

 I really don’t even care what you’d (I’m addressing the boys) talk about honestly. Seriously, if I found out that a boy at my school ran a personal blog, I’d be on it 24/7. It’s just so rare, that honestly I wouldn’t even care if you were just ranting about Call of Duty (as boring as that blog sounds). I would read it. Maybe it's because that stalker-ish part in me just kind of wants to see what everything's like from a boy’s perspective. It’s hard to analyze things like that with the complex, taunting answers they give on ask.fm. Running a blog, as a guy, would give girls a birds-eye view of what you are feeling, what you’d look for in girls, and what you really think about school (because school is one interesting place). It would make girls like me think, “Wow, this guy knows EXACTLY what he’s talking about and he knows EXACTLY where he’s going in life.” You (again, to you, boys) may not believe this, but with blogging, that’s the kind of aura you give off. It’s really amazing how typing what you’re thinking about down benefits you. And this is coming from an actual female blogger.

Now, back to how rare it is. I’ve been really trying to find blog boys for the longest time, with the attempts of google. So far, all of the blogs I've visited are about wine, about research, or are obtained by overweight, creepy, middle aged men shoving Doritos into their mouths.

 So boys, if you want a different way to pick up chicks, resort to blogging because why the hell not.

And we’ll just end this with a picture of Johnny Depp because it’s finally February. 

Almost time to be alone on V-Day, bitches.

MORTIFIED ON THE MOUND

Part 1: Pitching

Part 2: Humiliation

Part 1

 I don’t understand exactly why I keep pitching. Honestly, I feel like I’m terrible at it, lessons cost a ton, and I just really don’t have the time to practice. 

 I feel that if I give it up, I don’t fucking know like I feel as if I’d be letting everyone down since I’ve been doing it basically my whole entire life. 

Part 2

 Today was an interesting day at 6th period softball. Today the pitchers and the catchers had to go out in the outfield and show the coaches what we’ve got. So the five pitchers (including myself) and 3 catchers trudged out to warm-up. Considering there were only 3 catchers available (2 out of the 3 didn’t really want to catch in the first place) there would be one set of just one pitcher to one catcher and 2 sets of 2 pitchers to one catcher. Of course, as the freshman, I had to be in the second set. And of course the girl who was sharing the catcher with me was a very ambitious varsity player. 

 So of course being me, I panicked when the coaches walked over to examine my skills. Let’s just say that I could have done better. A LOT BETTER. And of  course the other varsity player did very well. And she knew the coaches saw that too (if you know what I mean)

*sigh*

MEANWHILE:

 The baseball team (I have to add that it contains a copious amount of good-looking boys)'s out field starts right when ours ends. So supposedly, they were doing terrible so they had to run from the foul pole on the third base side of the field to the foul pole on the first base side of the field. The path that they were running on passed right next to our group of pitchers (I was the closest to the hotties. Probably like 10 feet away from the path they were running to and fro on). And they weren’t running just one lap. They were running for a whooping 20 minutes and they were STILL running after THE THING and even after practice ended.

 Anyway, the last pitch we had to throw ending the session was a change-up. By that time, I was already discouraged enough and I don’t think I could have been redder than I was then. The most frustrating part was when I was throwing that pitch earlier, it didn't work at all. So the whole situation generally was pretty ironic, if you ask me. 

  Of COURSE I ended up being the last person to go (since we were assessed individually. All of the other pitchers were pretty bored watching the nerve-racking moments, so they all jogged back to the dug out where the rest of the team was packing up. It was just me, the pitcher; the two head coaches; and Grace, the catcher. Oh, and of course the whole entire baseball team just a mere ten feet away.

 I was shaking as I wiped my sweaty hand across my pants (which really didn’t do much) and gripped the ball tightly. I went through the motion and gasped when my hip flinched closed too soon and my throwing hand containing the ball hit the back of my leg. I watched as the ball dropped 4 feet in front of Grace. Then I heard the Head Varsity coach grunt behind me. I felt the color rush straight to my cheeks and I slowly spun around to face my fate, which felt like it would be a lot like death honestly. That’s when THE THING happened.

head varsity coach: how do you throw that pitch?

me: *gulps* uh back-hand *makes motion with wrist*

hvc: oh, i see... *moves to the spot where i’ve been pitching*

        come right in front of me

me: um-

hvc: come on.

me: *apprehensively trudges in front of him*

hvc: face the catcher

me: *turns slowly towards Grace who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates*

hvc: *takes my throwing arm* ok so you’re going to hold the ball in this hand and and you’re going to go through the motion like this... *takes my arm and leads me through the motion* and you want to make youre only throwing the ball in this space *takes my shoulders from behind* this is your space. you cant throw anywhere but your space, got it?

grace: *stares*

head junior varsity coach: *stares*

baseball players: *stares*

entire world: *stares*

me:

        what the fuck just happened.

  So that’s when I think my pitching career had officially ended. Well, I should say MIGHT end, because you never know.

 I’m debating to chop off and bleach my hair, get a tattoo, and go by Lupe. Seriously I don’t exactly know how I’m going to be able to show my face tomorrow.

 What has my life come to?

A NORMAL SCHOOL DAY

ME:

1. no. oh god no, my bed is so warm and comfy and i just had the most amazing erotic dream. i will not get up. never. *presses snooze*
2. i can probably sleep for a few more minutes... *presses snooze*
3. i’ll just skip breakfast today. *presses snooze*
4. oh fuck it’s six o’clock and I need to take a shower. i hate my life *after two minutes of glaring angrily at the ceiling, i push myself out of bed*
5. shower, shower, shower. a time to embrace my inner britney spears 
6. *30 minutes later* SHIT I HAVE 20 MINUTES TO GET READY
7. *gets dressed* FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
8. *brushes teeth* FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
9. *puts on makeup* ok sydney, you cannot rush the mascara. calm down and focus on the strokes
10. *puts in earphones* cant walk without a beat
11. *walks/dances to school*
12. oh shit i’m late
13. i hate this place
14. oh my god its so cold
15. stop looking at me like you dont know where i came from. we’ve been in the same english class since 5th grade
16. i hate this class
17. ok... moving on. 
18. i really hate walking down these halls
19. dont touch me
20. omg there he is ah hes so cute
21. ew there she is
22. i hate math
23. im dying
24. at least amy is here to suffer with me
25. omg why
26. finally, that bell couldnt have rung sooner
27. back in the hallway
28. its like a fucking war zone here omg
29. i. hate. school.
30. NOTICE ME ASSHOLE
31. WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING ASSHOLE
32. ok really. youre going to stop in the middle of an utterly crowded hallway to go through your backpack. honestly.
33. omg finally ive been waiting for snack since like i got here
34. ew yearbook
35. ew interviewing
36. ew writing
37. ew getting yelled at
38. ew
39. im so tired
40. LUUUUUUUNNNNNNCCCCHHHHHHH
41. YES YES YES thank the lord i decided to take a zero this year i cant wait to see my bed again
42. adios bitchachos 
43. poor ashlyn she has to suffer through another class
44. well at least she doesnt have to wake up at the crack of dawn
45. *walks through the door* buenos noches.

FEELING SENSUAL

A request from a demanding empress.

 YOU. Take that smile of your face. Stop pretending that the world revolves around you for a second. I want you to look at me. Not just a brief glance. I want you to look at me curiously. I want you to wonder, "Who is she?" "Wow, she is so beautiful." "I wish I knew her."

 I want you to take me aside after class and I want you to introduce yourself to me. I want to tell you my name, and I want to see the corners of your lips curl up in your cute smile. 

 I want you to buy me Flaming Hot Cheetos and I want to rant to you about how impossible it is for me to eat them. And I'd like it if you'd laugh at me for being cliché or even take my side in the argument. 

 I want to go on an awkward first date with you and see a cheesy Romantic Comedy and have dinner at the Ruby's and watch the ice skaters from the window that overlooks the ice rink. I want to share french fries with you. I want you to walk me up to my door look me straight into my eyes and kiss me with your soft, pouting lips. 

 I want to have a moment where we are both so caught up into kissing that I rip off your shirt and trace my fingers down the creases of your V-line as you suck my neck. We both will know that it would leave a hickey, but we wouldn't care. When my hands reach just below the hem of your jeans, I'll run my fingers up your abs as you whisper how much you love me in my ear. And then I'd kiss you on your god damn face and run my fingers through your sun-bleached hair.

 I want you to introduce me to your friends and casually put your tan arm around my shoulders. I want you to kiss my cheek at the most random times. Or when you'd see me walking you'd run up from behind and slide your fingers into mine interlacing each other. 

 I want you to buy me flowers.

 I want you to whisper love words into my ear as when we are cuddling because we'd be such an immature bunch. And your blue eyes would sparkle after every syllable. And I would giggle like a stupid girl as dumb as that sounds.

 I want you to be mine. 

 "The problem with love is that you can love whoever you want. But so can they."

HOE HOE HOE

 You know when you just get so pissed at someone...

 I don't know why this is just so accurate, it just is.

A LIL SAD

 Everyone come to my house and cry with me.

-Sydney ):

WAITING FOR PAOLO TO MAKE ME A PRINCESS

 I dunno if any of you have seen this before, but I saw this and I shredded tears of joy.

                (it's probably old news to all of you, but seriously how fucking accurate is this?!)

current moods:

 someone go make me something to eat

wait, but i'm fat 

mom, i don't want to go outside. i'm too ugly

i'm not bluffing, madonna's on steroids. 

...HIT ME BABEH ONE MORE TYME.

why did brian griffin die on us

i don't want to do homework

i want to spell my name with llamas

that guy in one of my classes is insanely hot

^*drools*

y'all can kiss my ass

jk come over here and give me a big hug

dylan obrien should propose to be already

nom nom nom nom nom nom

seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeex

sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

foooooooooooooooooooood

mofo

how do you all even bear with me?

kisses.

QUEEN SYDNEY

First of all, it's almost the best day of the week:

franco friday.

IF I WERE QUEEN:

I. James Franco would rule next to me um because look at that face. Adorable screams from it.

II. School would start around 1:00 PM and will end promptly at 6:30. 

III. You can wear whatever you want at school, but if it's a little too much, you will wear a sign that has an arrow pointing to you reading "SKANK ALERT." 

IV. There will be no such thing as homecoming queen. Because there is only one queen, and that's me. Sorry.

V. (I know this is kind of typical) but once a week, a selected group of girls would get to go on a trip to any mall they want, go to any store they want, and they can take anything they want. For free. It would be kind of like that movie The Purge. Except it won't have all the creepy/gory parts.

this actually creeped me out the entire time I made it.

VI. All of the cutest boys will be sent up to my mansion to come have a mandatory "conference" with me.

VII. Teachers will only be hired if they are sympathetic and understanding. If they say they are and I get complaints they are to be fired immediately. 

VIII. Cheaters will be banished to a remote, deserted island where they would have to fight to survive. They asked for it...

IX. It's ok if you take something from someone, but if you take something from me, you will be sent to the dungeon. 

X. Group projects will be outlawed. 

XI. Disney Channel would have a "Throwback Thursday" where they would just play old Disney shows all day. Popcorn and sour patch kids will be delivered to every house.

XII. If a girl is seen with a ridiculously stupid-looking bun on the top of her head, it is to be chopped off immediately.  And I quote the great Jenna Marbles:

Preach.

And lastly:

XIII. On my birthday, all of the kind citizens will bake me a gigantic cake. Don't worry, I'll supply everything needed. The whole day will be dedicated to everyone eating cake and having fun and giving presents to one another. It would just be a fucking happy day. Almost as good as Christmas.

 Ya that's it. 

*mwah*

NOSTALGIA

  Dear Anchovy Boy,

 How are you? I certainly hope you are well. It has been such a long time since we've last talked. How long has it been? About 5 months? Wow.

 I really miss seeing you around school. And I just miss pretty much everything about you. The way that you would sit and listen "attentively" to the teacher with your shoulders hunched forward. Your legs were so incredibly long that they could've slid under just not my desk but even the desk in front of me. I have always liked the way that your hair would fall lazily over your eyes and the way that you would have to brush it out of the way with a shake of your head. Que bueno.

 Maybe I should tell you about the first time I actually got to know you. It was a while ago. I remember that Amy and I sat behind you. I thought you were sososo cute. I was only 12, so of course (like every other 12 year old girl) I denied my feelings and started to make fun of you. That's when I came up with your nickname: Anchovy Boy. Because apparently to my 12 year old self, you looked like a fish. Oh Amy, Nicole, and I made many creative nicknames for you. There was "Le Derp" (courtesy of Amy, herself), "Fishy", and (lol your going to get a kick out of this) "That Boy That Makes Me Look Like A Babbling Idiot". So even though you thought that I hated you at first, YOU WERE FOOLED, FOOL! Hahaha.

 It was a year after that where I found myself very attracted to you. Social Studies was my favorite class in the world, considering we were always sitting relatively close to another. All I really remember is that our conversations were cut very short. When we were having quaint discussions about Napoleon Bonaparte or Ulysses S. Grant, someone (most commonly another of your crazed fan-girls) would come up and give you an annoying distracting. A distraction from not just the assignment, but for me too.

 There was also that time that you showed up to my softball game. I was extremely surprised to see you there. So surprised, that for the first 5 pitches, I couldn't even through a strike (talk about humiliating) It was very cool of you to stick around and cheer me on anyhow. I think that you made that game one of my favorite games that I've ever played in (even though we lost like 17-1, yikes).

 It was so great at the beginning of that year. We talked everyday. I could always make you laugh and you made feel feel complete bliss. A beautiful nirvana.

 I wonder what turned this around.

 One day, you just decided that my jokes weren't funny anymore. Our conversations went about as far as "Hi" and then soon nothing at all. I never again caught your lingering stare. You didn't come to anymore of my softball games.

 You just started hanging out with the popular kids. And you began to talk to many different girls. And you were placed in a seat farther away from me. You didn't even step into the MPR at the school dance. And at graduation even though we were standing practically right next to another, you decided to walk 15 people ahead and talk to people you met only a couple weeks prior.

 What happened? Was I just not that important anymore?

 That's not even the most cruel part. The most cruel part to end this tragedy was that you actually got me to fall in love with you. So now every time I go back to thoughts about Middle School your face always pops up. You just don't even understand, so let me spell it out for you: I LOVED YOU ANCHOVY BOY. I really did. And I wish that you could've said something and didn't just leave me hanging by myself. It's all because of you that I don't believe in love. It is! You tricked me! It was all a joke!

*breaths*

 Oh, Anchovy. Too bad all of that crap had to happen. Sometimes I wish I could go back and think about what happened. I honestly do.

 Well, I'm done crying about you (as cheesy as that sounds) so I'm just going to try to move on from you and all of the crap that you put me through.

 I just have one question.

 If nothing was even official, why does it still hurt so much?

 This is an attempt at goodbye.

 I say attempt because obviously I cannot let go. Because every time your face comes across my mind I go though a period of

















Nostalgia.



















Love, Sydney

I WAS RIGHT

 Juliet did in fact have big breasts. And all the boys in 0 period English can admit it.

 We get that you have such luminous bosoms. We didn't need to actually see them to get that, you little slut.

  What I did notice while watching a segment of the movie today was that Shakespeare never really made a scene where Romeo actually snuck into our girl Juliet's room. You know, the night of intimate actions. If he did right a scene for it, this is probably how it would go:

 INTERPRETATION OF THE BEDROOM SCENE (What Shakespeare failed to add):

by Sydney Tody

(it's even written in ionic pentameter for you. Ya, I'm that good)

Romeo: Oh see the light that does reach from her room.

              I feel excitement spread through a prick.

              Give heed! There stands my lady by her broom

Juliet: With thy stick, I am to show of work. Ick.

           It's my lord! Come Romeo up the wall!

           He thinks it's me, oh come up fast and quick! 

           Oh do be careful my husband, Don't fall.

           But hurry, for methinks I'll lose my wit!

Romeo: I cometh thou fair sun, and here so I am.

             Your cleavage so full, I cannot look away. 

             Fine thy shall look bereft of these mere cloths, damn. I liked the way this line sounded, it doesn't really work..

             Come wife, hold me. I do wish I could stay. 

             I feel alive, dancing with pants full of ants.

Juliet: We shalt need no more talk! OFF WITH THY PANTS! 

Continue play. lol sex.

No need for an applause, I just want to be the one to say I told you so.   

             

           

            

              

JULIET HAD BIG BOOBS

  That's probably the reason why Romeo "fell in love right when he saw her". Whatever.

 One thing about me is that for some strange reason, I just do not believe in love at first sight. And it's really sad and depressing, but there is no possible way that one person could care about another person as much than other person cares about him/her.

 When you kind of think about it, there will always be a person that loves more. So no one is completely satisfied. No one who experiences love with another person will trust that the other person will love as much as the other person. That's probably the scary thing about dating: you either end up breaking up or you get married. It's kind of weird thinking about it, ahaha. In other words: you will either be the heartbreaker or you will get your heart broken. Ya, hate to say it but it's the truth. Sorry.

 Want to know something? I HATE CRUSHES. Ihatethemihatethemihatethemihatethemihatethem. Because I care about them waaaaay too much. Because after the whole phase, you feel like your existence has been stripped from you. You feel as if you have no importance on Earth anymore, but your still here taking up space. Like a lamp.

 Okay hold up. Probably the WORST thing about this god damn feeling we get that we mistake for love is when you don't even love the person at the beginning. And then they actually talk to you. And then you actually develop a small connection with them. And then you "love" them. And then slowly but surely, they begin to pull away. And then they fucking slip through your fingers, and you're just standing there, your heart in two pieces wondering where he went. But he's gone. And he ain't comin' back girl.

 That's the worst.

 So for all the ladies out there. Believe in whatever you want to believe in just remember the difference between guys and girls: Guys act like they're into you when they really not. Girls act like they hate you when they secretly love you.

 And........ cleavage.

Juliet you blessed mother fucker.

Personality my ass.

IDIOTS AT THE GYM

 Sometimes I just wonder what the fuck some people are thinking when they do something stupid. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me when I do something stupid. But some idiots... arg, ok this is going to be a bit of a rant.

RULES ALL GYMS SHOULD APPLY:

A list by Sydney Tody.

No. 1: Do not try to talk to people who are super into their workout. If you can see that they are sweating profoundly, not making eye-contact with anyone, and look like they are in excruciating pain, just wait until they finish. Or else you will be given the look of death. No joke.

No. 2: If you are not using equipment, just step aside. Don't be sitting on a piece of equipment yapping to your friends, taking mirror selfies, or any other stupid thing besides working out. Some people actually want to try and wrap up their workout so that they can go home and eat all the crap they want.

No. 3: If someone on a certain machine is super into their workout and there are tons of the same machines that are open, please don't choose the one RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO THEM. Again, the look of death and a ton of other ugly thoughts would be upon you. Hey, this doesn't mean that this person is an ass, it's just that some people are in pain when working out and they just want to do their thing without anyone looking at them and possibly judging them. They just want peace, that's all. Don't get the wrong idea about these people, he/she's probably a great person outside of the gym. You know what they say, Train like a Beast, Look like a Beauty.

No. 4: Do not ask a trainer, who is clearly working out with some one, for help. I made this mistake, and of course the trainee was super into her workout, I mean she was bright red in the face and perspiring like she just got off of Splash Mountain. Anyway, she said, "UM WE'RE KINDA BUSY RIGHT NOW." and I was like "CALM YOUR TITS, TOMATO." but I said that in my head so no one heard that but me. Moral of story: if you need help, ask a trainer who isn't busy. (:

No. 5: When doing a yoga class, make sure that 1. your pants fit (no one wants to see that flattering plumber's smile when you go into front fold) 2. don't stand directly behind another person (you don't want to meet someone doggy-style) and 3. that you don't have beans prior to your class (you don't want to let one out during a quite meditation session).

No. 6: If you have a gym-friend (that is a woman) do not tell them how skinny they are getting or that they need to work a little harder. That's just Girl Code, ya don't do that.

No. 7: When you are in the locker room, DO NOT I repeat DO NOT strip down naked. That is just not sanitary. NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR SAGGY BOOBS OR YOUR BARE ASS. I'm sorry, but that is just revolting. Every time someone does that at my gym, I'm like: ok i'm going to go throw up now. 

No. 8: Do not get into fights at the gym. This can lead to people throwing things (weights, equipment, people) at each other and I don't know about you, but when I'm working out, I don't want to get hit on the side of the head by a bar bell. 

No. 9: Bring your own music, because the gym music sucks.

No. 10: Do not eat when your working out. Well, I guess like a protein bar is fine, but don't go around carrying a KFC bucket around with you, because you are going to get a lot of strange looks. And the fat ladies are going to go after you.

 Ya, so educate yourself so next time you go to the gym, you're ready for anything.

 yay congrats. 

IT'S NOVEMBER 12TH AND I COULD CARE LESS

I leave school at lunch.

I would rather wear sweatshirts and jeans every day.

I think Romeo is sexy.

I hate Freshmen boys.

I kinda hate all the boys at my school. Especially this one... ugh my brain is exploding with rage just thinking about him.

Lacrosse is the sexiest sport a boy can play *teen wolf problems*

If you smell good, I am 85% more attracted to you.

I hate crying with eye make-up on.

MOM I'M FEELING A LITTLE SICK. CAN YA TAKE ME TO THE DOCTOR?

All I want to do right now is lay on my bed, cry, and listen to sad music.

PIPE THE FUCK DOWN.

When I see this one boy: womanizer woman woman nizer your a womanizer oh.

I think that boys are just jealous of Romeo because he's more linguistic and can seduce a woman better than they ever could.

Take a few notes, boys.

"I'd like it if you'd stay."

Yeah, I guess that you both make a cute couple. So y'all go have a good time as I cry in my room and shove my face with cookies.

I don't belieeeeevvvveeeeee in true love.

Sue me.

^^lol I dunno.

Romeo & Juliet is the most unrealistic story ever. But every time I read it, a glimmer of hope shoots through me.

"DAMN. I wish I was your lover."

But I can kinda see why you don't like me.

Sometimes I just don't like me too.









It's November 12th and I can care less.

BESTS

1. Ice cream cake. It's the best of both worlds.

2. Beds.

3. Wifi.

4. Saved by the Bell's final episode where Zack and Kelly get married.

5. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

6. The Great Gatsby movie starring Leonardo di Caprio.

7. The casting for Blades of Glory.

8. Teen Wolf.

9. Girl Code (although I do wish that they would let Jenna Marbles on it... just saying.)

10. The nose of the muppet lady from Grown Ups 2

11. Ryan Reynolds.

12. The expression "Calm your tits"

13. Cute boys.

14. Lorde's new album.

15. Not Yearbook.

16. Extra's Dessert Delights (the desert flavored gum, holy shit I can't even.)

17. Chipotle.

18. Netflix.

19. Minimum School Days.

20. Zero Period (not having to wake up early, but getting to leave at lunch. Yay.)

21. Any kind of delicious food combinations.

22. Happy Madison Productions

Ya.

DAT ASS... NO

 Booties.

 We all have them. Some people have athletic looking butts: muscular and firm. Some people have model butts: perfectly shaped and firm. Some have no butts, just a flat surface below their back with an abyss-like crack down it. Some have bubble butts bubble bubble bubble butts. And some look like they have elephant cheeks attached to their back side. 

 Alas, there is a reason to this somewhat reason-less topic. I just want to give a quick shoutout to the young man in the white SUV that screamed "Ass!" when I was walking home after school.

 So this "Ass!" comment really threw me off at first, because at the time I was thinking about the movie Sinister that I watched a few weeks ago *note to self: never watch or talk about that movie again*. So when the car sped by me, and the comment was made, it scared me, so I jumped about 10 feet in the air.

 Okay, I have to admit... I first thought that the comment was a compliment. I was pretty flattered. And then I thought about it, turned around and looked at my "butt" and laughed, "Oh Sydney, this isn't a compliment. Those boys were just plain making fun of your butt."

 While sulking during the rest of the walk home, I started questioning the world around me. Okay so I understand that different males have different things that they look for in a girl, but come on. What even is sexy about a butt? You make poop out of them. There is nothing suggestive let alone sexual about butts what so ever. Is poop sexy? Yeah, I didn't think so.

 Back to the analysis: 

One cannot make fun of an ass when there is no ass present.

 girl code.

 So, for you boys that decide you want to make a cat-call or if your just trying to be a smart ass, make sure that you can physically see rolls of booty on a girl before calling her out on it. Because then a girl will try to stick out her butt and will walk around like a turtle with a shrunken shell. Either that or she'd reply, "What butt?" (cough cough, just don't do it)

  Moral of the entire post: 

 Bubble butt bubble bubble bubble butt.

 I don't even know anymore.

     

BURRITO CHILD

 so someone just come over and cuddle with me.