Sick=suck

I am currently buried underneath a mound of blankets/coats/snuggly things, with room enough to poke my head through and my two FREEZING HANDS out to takatakatakatakatakatakataka on Ze Keyboard. It’s something like 70 degrees in this house. FUCK.

A lot of people like being sick because they get out of school, but really, I beg to differ. All I did both yesterday, today, and probably tomorrow is lie around whilst being buried in said blankets/coats/snuggly things that seem to travel with me wherever I wander, watch Doctor Who, and Homestuck.

AKA not much different from my normal weekend routine. Usually I enjoy my weekend routine. But you CANNOT ENJOY WEEKEND ROUTINE when you have a 102.5 fever, congestion, absolutely no appetite, and your limbs feel like they’ve been PETRIFICUS TOTALUS. Seriously. My main way of traveling through the house for the past couple days is scooting down the stairs, stumbling to the computer, and falling asleep on the way there.

&&& I watched Torchwood. I seriously got halfway Day One and then was like “wow okay lesbian makeout session” and kind of shielded my eyes and squirmed uncomfortably then paused it to make nachos, only to throw them away because I didn’t have an appetite. I didn’t continue to watch it. If you read my blog post on Kimye’s baby then you know I felt awk. Oh God andhisholylightningshootingnipples¬†I sound like a homophobe. I’m not homophobic. As a matter of fact, 2/5 of my OTPs are involving menxmen.

MY OTPs (One True Pairingseseseses)

1. Hinny (Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter)

2. Destiel (Dean Winchester and Castiel. Funnily enough I haven’t seen an episode of SPN with Castiel in it yet. But FANFICTION YAY)

3. Deamus (Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan)

4. Tose. Or Ren. (Rose and Doctah Numba 10)

5. PERCABETH ASDFGHJKL; (Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase R-SQUARED WHY DID YOU KICK MY BBS IN TARTARUS WHYY)

There are two kinds of people in this world. One, the Moffats and Riordans. Two, those who rock back and forth in a corner foaming at the mouth due to said Moffats and Riordans.

*injects special sanity drug. oh, and, er, tylenol/motrin aswell*

Sorry for the takatakatakatakatakataka nonsense. I’m tired so bye-bye mah babes.

P.S Resolution which-ever-I-promised-to-post-erryday isn’t working out ūüė¶ Sorry guise.

x Sabrinaniqua Bon Qui Qui Jones

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new year’s eve and why it sucks

So sorry, Savannah (unless other people are on here. Hello, other people!!), Mummy Dearest was busy¬†looking up obscure indieish tracks¬†saving baby koalas¬†watching Supernatural doing important things and couldn’t keep up with her bloggity blog thingy. But you need not worry, for it is part of Mummy Dearest’s New Year’s Resolutions to keep her bloggity blog thingy in check, yo. In fact, I have a complete list if you’d like to see them. It doesn’t matter if you want to or not, anyways, I have tied you to a chair and duct-taped your mouth shut.

DR. PROF. SABRINA’S NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS¬†

because even the most amazing people need to make changes -_-

1. Keep bloggity blog thing in check, yo. Post interestingable stuff on here, daily, and not be boring. *shoots smiley-faced wall* *hopes someone out there understood that reference*

2. Save money to buy iPad. Lol like that’s gonna happen, what with my extreme online shopping addiction.

3. Be social. Where are all the wild parties, the fun movie-going, the group date extravanaganzas? With the not-dorky people where you left them when you started watching Doctor Who, stupid. At least be social with the other fangirls/fanmen out there .-.

4. Be nicerererer to people who don’t deserve nicererererness.¬†Because one day they’ll die and you’ll be like “whyyyy wasn’t I nicerererer to them???”.

5. Also keep deviantartyfarty thingy in check, yo. *shrugs*

Well, I’m going to stop referring to myself as Mummy Dearest because none of you are my children (I am simply the girl who lives in the internet and feeds off Cheetos and leftover ham and I have never nor will ever have children. Mainly because I have a disease known as Nevergonnagetlaid syndrome. But also because birthing, ick) and tell you why New Year’s Eve wasn’t awesome.

You ready?

You sure?

Totally?

I went to a lock-in at CHURCH.

CHURCH.

*facepalm*

TBH, my church really isn’t THAT bad, mainly because I have lots of funny and sweet friends in my youth group, and the kids are cute, and our youth leaders are cool and not at all oldyish or mommyish, but sometimes it’s awk. *wibbles* I don’t really think of myself as Christian anymore, I mainly just go to see my friends nowadays. So this NYE, I had a choice between a) sitting on the couch in my TMNT pyjamas playing Super Mario Bros. whilst my mom drives around¬†getting totally wonkfaced DRINKING RESPONSIBLY, or b) running around an empty church with my friends and downing multiple cans of cheap soda.

I think you can see the clear winner here.

The night started out as it ALWAYS DOES (tis tradition). Dear Sister of Mine decided that it was crucial to veg out on the couch until exactly ten minutes before we were supposed to leave. Then she decided she wanted to go do her all out makeup/hair/clothing routine. Naturally, she demanded the front seat so she could do her makeup. I said no. She decided to bitch about it, then mum got pissed off, then she got pissed off and slammed the door to the car on my arm. Not like, ON it, I was holding it open and she forced my arm back, if you get the picture, no? They had a whole blowout argument thing, and Melanie was sobbing like a child, and I just kinda curled into a little ball of limbs and angst and put my earphones in and listened to Green Day for a bit *wibbles some more*. They argue like, nightly, and I’m sick sick sick of it. It kicked off the night appropriately.

We arrived at church, and Dear Sister of Mine remained in the vehicle to do her makeup, get reprimanded, etc. I met up with some of my buddies and the adults had us circle up for prayer time. Eh… then they went over the “schedule”. I have never been to a lock-in before, so I thought we were just gonna get hyper and crash at around four am. Nope. There was a schedule. AND WE MUST ABIDE BY SAID SCHEDULE, LEST THE LORD ZAP YOU WITH LIGHTNING SHOT FROM HIS HOLY NIPPLES. Thankfully, the schedule kind of went from Sirius Partying With Darts from 7-7:30!!!!11!!!1!!! to Let’s Lounge Around and Play Apples to Apples Whilst Watching The Avengers for the rest of the night. There was no Holy Nipple Lightning involved. Anyways, we all rallied downstairs to play Dartball. How does one play Dartball? I don’t really know. You try to hit these little triangles or circles on the board and sometimes people cheer and sometimes people groan and either way you get scared you might skewer yourself/others with a dart. It went better than I expected and I actually caused quite a bit of cheering for my team and we trash-talked the other team and yay funz. And no skewering either. WIN!

Then we went upstairs to play a game called Sardines. Basically, there’s one or two people who hide in one spot, and everyone tries to find them, and when they do, they squeeze in that spot so they’re like a little sardine sandwich. And you’re supposed to “hunt” in a dark church by yourself. But that didn’t happen. Krystal, Christall, Melanie, and Caroline traversed the hallways like a pack of chattering¬†wildebeests, and didn’t do much looking for peoples. Nicole and Anna and I partnered up both games, and it was actually fun, even if we didn’t play right. Me and Anna went downstairs and since the Downstairs=Underground, it was totally utterly pitch black. And we weren’t allowed to use our flashlights or phones or anything. It was scary and I swear to God And His Holy Lightning Shooting Nipples I thought a demon or a windigo would pop out and make us die a horrid bloody death, but no, we survived. The second game, people were actually down there and ACK I got scared. We had to sit down there in the dark. Not fun. And it really shouldn’t be called Sardines because we didn’t all fit in one spot, we kinda sat on the couches and waited¬†for Slenderman to kill us for people to find us.

After Sardines we played a game called Grog, where someone called the Grog takes apart a flashlight and hides the pieces in plain sight (on tables, chairs, etc.). Then everyone else has to find them, put the flashlight together, and shine it on the Grog. Like in Freeze Tag, the Grog tags people and they have to freeze in place. They also scream really loud when they get tagged. I was good at that part. Chris was the Grog and he scared the crap out of everyone by stomping down the halls like a serial killer or something. When I tried to get out of the hallway he got right in my face, so I used one of the poppers my mom sent along with me for NYE. He sputtered and I ran away. Then he RAGEQUIT because “no one took him seriously meh”. Lol cheers?

Anyways, we ended up ringing in the New Year praying to God¬†And His Holy Lightning Shooting Nipples about what we wanted to do for the New Year’s for Him. When it was my turn I kinda mumbled some stuff about how I wanted to know if he was real or not and it sparked a whole DISCUSHUN OMGZ about how we (the “young adults”) have the Gospel hammered into our heads at a young age and if we reject that, we get so much shart for it. And it’s true. I told my mom I wasn’t that Christian and she broke out in tears. I felt really bad for doing so but she needed to know. And afterwards she started saying that I “needed help” and “we’re going to get you back on track again” and I sort of just made nodding movements and stuff but really? I don’t think anything will happen.

The night pretty much went on uneventfully, we just watched movies and ate cheetos. Half of us fell asleep.

This NYE didn’t really suck as bad as the years before, but still– not a lot of fun. Here’s the New Year’s Hall of Fame:

2012: Watched reruns of CSI: Miami. With Snuggie and a bowl of popcorn.

2010: Hung out in brother’s room playing old video games and eating pizza. Everyone else in said room was under nine.

2009:¬†Given juice boxes by creepy old man. I haven’t seen him at our parties since.

2005:¬†Stuck at neighbor’s house. Neighbor was old and smelled of baby powder and spaghetti sauce. Gave my siblings and I stale graham crackers whilst parents held a party at the house.

Anyways. I hate New Year’s and can’t wait to get drunk.

FUNNY PICTURE OF THE DAY:

Funny Picture of the Day

 

Who else saw Les Mis? It made ME cry. I NEVER EVER EVER cry at movies. EVER.

Peace, my nizzles.

xx Bree

If I had a llama

The following memoranda (memorandi? memorandums? holla at my Grammar Nazis? where are you guys?) shows you what I’d do if I had a llama.

Llama demigod– If I had a llama, I would ride it all the way to Camp Half-Blood instead of seeking out Grover or another satyr for help. It would show everyone what a badass I truly am. And my llama. Because llamas are badass. When I get to Camp Half-Blood I will hop of my llama and run all the way to the Hephaestus cabin, fling open the door dramatically, find Leo Valdez, and proceed to have sex with that fine piece of ass. Then people will throw money at us. When I finish de-flowering the McShizzle, I will use the money that was thrown at me to buy crack. Not for me, but for the llama. So it would forgive me for using it as transportation. Then I will marry Leo Valdez.

Circus llama– If I had a llama, I would surgically attach a white carrot to its face so it looks like a hairy unicorn. Then I will teach my hairy unicorn to do tricks, like standing on one leg, the Bat-Bogey Hex, and the Dougie. I will open a circus and people will pay to see my hairy unicorn do such tricks. I will use the money we earned to buy crack. For the llama, not me. So it doesn’t mind having a white carrot attached to his face for the rest of his life.

John Lennon llama–¬†¬†If I had a llama, I would buy a pair of round glasses and make my llama wear the glasses. It would summon the spirit of John Lennon and the spirit would possess my llama. Then I would have my llama record a song, and it will go to the top of the charts because John Lennon is possessing my llama. We’ll make more money than the guy who wrote Gangnam Style. With the money we earned I will buy a Camp Half-Blood shirt for me and a Camp Half-Blood shirt for my llama. Then I will have sex with Leo Valdez.

Skrillex llama– If I had a llama, I would take it to a Skrillex concert along with a dart gun and a bunch of Glo-Sticks. I would use the dart gun to shoot Skrillex with elephant tranquilizer so he passes out. While the audience runs amok, I will bring my llama onstage and get him to press the “play” button on his laptop, and the audience will go wild. My llama would be decked out in Glo-Sticks. And everyone will talk about how we saved the day. Tom Felton would be at the concert, and he would come up to me afterwards and be like “Your llama is really awesome, and you’re incredibly sexy.” He would kiss me on the cheek and then I would just die.

Hitman llama– If I had a llama, I would bring it to the Spanish Mafia and have the llama be their hitman. They would pay my llama to kill Justin Bieber and all the members of One Direction. But PLOT TWIST! I would turn them in to the police and say that my llama’s evil twin killed the pop icons. That way we wouldn’t get in trouble. I would use the money we earned to buy Stephanie Meyer and hand her over to the police for ruining humanity’s literary awesomeness. Then I will get some sleep.

Dalai llama– If I had a llama, I would move to Tibet with my friend Anna and we would live there with my llama. We will meet the Dalai Lama, kidnap him, and wipe his memory. Then we would dress my llama in orange bath-towels. My llama would become the spiritual leader of Tibet and kick China’s sorry ass out. Then me and Anna will teach the Dalai Lama how to breakdance. Then I will have sex with Leo Valdez.

Someone needs to buy me a llama.

— Sabrina