I feel like a cold cup of tea...

You say it best... when you say nothing at all. 

Out of all my friends, I have been blogging the longest. 

Okay, I don't include Danny, because he blogged about laik... Singapore.

I have 47 followers and I blog for my own goddamn purpose. I truly am totally fed up at the people blaming fights on blogs. I've addressed it before, and I'll address it until people realize and shut the motherfuck up. Blogs do not cause fights. They just wimp up fights that would otherwise involve fists in real life. It's pathetic, whatever, we get it. I'm not blogging for you guys, I'm blogging for me and my international readers like the lovely Lulu and my cousin and Vic. Bottling things up leads for a reformation on someone, or an eruption of spite and anger and everything they ever hated about certain people. How can blogs be to blame? The people who write them are taking risks, as are the people who read them.. It's the people who cause the fights. It's damn childish to blame an imaginary floating segment on whatever's going on in your life. This isn't directed at Jonny or Keeva or Merissa...  It's directed at anyone who has ever blamed a blog for something that would've happened eventually; blog or no blog. This blog, ironically, isn't intended in starting a fight. If I weren't such a cowardly idiot, I'd say it to your faces. But I can't prevent the hundreds of trolls on the world wide web to their faces. 

Anywaaay, sorry about that long-winded rant. Needed to be said. Okay, I like to read other people's opinions on matters, and I respect them, so you gotta remember... this is just my opinion. When a person judges, it's their opinion. (: This week was doss in school. Still failing a lot. My parent's are all tense, tight, stressed. Over my schoolwork and the whole recessionary house sale. They keep saying 'the reason I do bad is because I make no effort'. Effort is trying, right? Or am I wrong. I was always under the impression that effort was attempting. I guess my parents want perfection. My sister rolls perfection around on her hand. I kind of... strive and fail. Fuck it, I love them, but when they say stuff like that or act that way, I always mumble '4 more years...'! Some crazzzyyyy halloween party was to ensue. But I got grounded. Which is just so unfair and Jem will be like 'Grounded or "Grounded"' and I'll be like GROUNDED. I was so warmed up to the idea, I was like BRING ON THE FEST. But then I had to go and say 'goodnight' sarcastically. I don't think I'll bother with going outside this weekend. No point in it.. dare I say. People hardly noticed I'm gone, and if they do, it doesn't stop them at all. XD They prefer the psychotic evil bitch staying at home, finishing knitting her red scarf and doing homework and reading Pride & Prejudice. I'm growing quite fond of the book. Especially Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mmmmmm. Stupid Lizzy is all ignorant of him. If such grandeur and mystery wafted around a boy today, I'd be on him like an opposite-poled magnet. 

I haven't blogged from an actual Mac for a whole year. Or so. I'm on the family computer/pieceacrap. Because my laptop broke. I can't even tell my parents because I broke my camera, lost my ipod, broke my phone, lost my mom's umbrella, broke my wall etc. They'd literally kill me. Or ground me for ages. Which I wouldn't mind. 

Well, au revoir, mon petit chou.

LUCY

XOXO

Smile, they're all staring...

Success is having to worry
about every damn thing in the
world, except money...

-Johnny Cash





This is peculiar. It's a year since VicVic wrote her first blog and this is my 100th blog post. WOO. This symbolizes accomplishment for me. Most people consider accomplishment as something physical.. or a goal of some sort. This is an accomplishment for me because I a) managed to keep something intact for a long time and b) managed to let out my feelings without forcefully annoying people. Like how I underlined 'forcefully'? It's because this blog is incredibly annoying also but people can just trail their cursor riiighhhttt on up to the big red x in the corner which means they can piss off. It's the diet option. :)


I would like to kindly address the unkind commenters. Don't get me wrong, I love the commenters like Jemmy and Vic and Dani and Davey and Fionaaaa and all. But those little skanks that are too cowardly to put their goddamn name alongside their comments are just pesky. Not even annoying, just pesky. Because I don't get moved easily by people with stupid insights on how I am and how I live. My view on Sabrina.. okay, shouldn't have posted it online. But I do have a right to free speech and all. Sabrina is nowhere near fucking perfect, Mrs/Mr/It Smileyface Anonymous. Neither am I, neither are you, neither is anyone. Perfect is something we all strive for in vain, never reach it, and end up dejected because it's too far forward. Fuck off with your 'faggot' because if you bothered to read further than the first post you saw, you'd realize that I physically am a faggot. Boohoo, I like girls. Shock horror. Wouldn't be surprised if you homophobic plaster-cast excuses of human beings ended up being gay yourself. Fudge-packers or Rug-munchers. Lalalaaa. If I were you lonely, lifeless creature-type-things, I do this thing called 'Get A Life'... or maybe just 'Build A Bridge'. I don't have time for that type of inane shit. So be gone, moronic fuckfaces.


School, school, school; What can I say? Sucks hairy pussy. Third year is a mess already. I've gotten 3 notes on different sections as it is, and it's 3 weeks into term. The homework comes in these god forsaken tidal waves of mass learning and pointless questions. When in our future lives will we ever need Irish Poetry, Algebraic expressions, Microbiological information and the ability to blanket-stitch? Unless we're all planning on being Irish/Maths/Science/Home-Ec teachers or microbiologists or..... under-paid Indonesian workers. I'm being a journalist; No questions asked. I don't care how I get the job or where I get the job. I'm just getting the job. I'll go to the worst college there is if I have to. I'm just doing journalism. Full Stop. I'm pretty sure I have the qualities of a journalist. I'm certainly inquisitive, to say the least. I'd be a crap journalist. Now that I think of it. I should have a back-up. Brothel; Fuck duh. Or just a waitress. Pie engineer. I could totally engineer pie. It can't be that hard. Base, crust, chocolate-fudge ripple teamed with ripe, luscious raspberries, covered over with a thin top and sprinkled with icing sugar. Hot out of the oven and passed to a customer. Orgasm. Now I'm damn hungry. That reminded me of 'Waitress'. Ever see that movie? I liked that movie. T'was goooooord.


I would like to bear an apology for not posting over the past 3 days. I was grounded from my laptop. I swear to god, they ground me from it if I accidentally slam the door because the window was wide open or something. My mom once grounded me for dropping a piece of plastic on the floor of her car. Accidentally. And it wasn't dirty plastic or nothing, it was plastic from the front of a brand new Wii game. Grrrraawwrrr. Sigh. Gaa and youth club on Friday. Don't know which to go for. On one hand, the Gaa is sweaty & horrible accompanied by that utter shit dance-trance music that's so annoying. On the other hand, it's fun to be out with friends til late, pounding to strobe dancing and making out randomly to my heart's content. But I feel like I'd be betraying youth club and all, even in all it's boringosity. If I go youth club, I'll end up totes third-wheeling on Chrissa and Miss. And that would be crap. But if I go gaa, I'll have to shave my legs and put on fake tan, not to mention wear something incredulously short and 6 inch high heels. Decisions, decisions, decisions.



I'mma go check my online accys now. New Twitter terms of use, according to my email. I'll talk to yas later. Toodle-doo.

LUCY
XOXO

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