H is for Honesty, cuz i'm not gonna hide it...the doc gave me some Prozac cuz my life is undecided.
Okay, not really, that's a song by Johnny Massacre..but I am a little sad. I've left my dear blog for almost 2 months now and not a single person has commented, followed, or even VIEWED the blog. I thought this blog would at least attract...1? 2? is that too much to ask for?
If I were happy, I would have something to write about.
But I'm not.
So poo you, invisible viewers.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Friday, November 19, 2010
Banana Ambushes are my favorite type of attack.
The name of this post used to be "It has been quite a week." But then I thought to myself, is that really Not Stanny? So I changed it. So, yeah.
Anyways, regardless of whether it's Not Stanny or not, it really has been quite a week. I have been extremely busy. Actually, I take that back. I hate it when people say that. So, let's just settle with, it has been almost impossible to cram in a blog post in this activity-flurried 7 or so days. There, that's better.
I WAS going to write about each day and what happened..but my brain is so fried that I really can't remember anything except what happened today. So I guess I'll just blab about that instead.
It all started in 1st Hour.
We were just working away like busy little bees...but then Sharon had to go and be wierd. As always.
**note: Sharon is not a girl. Sharon is a boy. At least, that's our nickname for him, since his last name is Sharon**
He suddenly started to reach into his backpack and pull out his little stash of gum and candy, which he began to pile onto his desk. He must've had 15 or so Jolly Rancher chewies. I squinted at him and held out my hand, but he refused to deal out any of his precious little treats. That made me a liiiittle frustrated. Sharon then proceeded to stuff a huge wad of Bubbalicious gum into his mouth, and, jealous of Patty's bubble-blowing skillz, tried to blow an even bigger bubble.
**note: Patty is a girl. Obvvv, that's not her real name.**
He did blow a bubble, but it wasn't bigger than Patty's. What he did next was totally Sharon-like. He takes the bubble, and seals it shut, before taking it out of his mouth. But due to his clumsiness, he drops it on the floor. Then, he picks it back up and shows everybody in the proximity/vicinity (Which one do I use? Vicinity sounds more official...), including the teacher. Next, to the astonishment of me, Patty, and others...he pops the bubble back into his mouth and begins to chew. Disgusting much?!!
The craziness continued in 2nd hour. I drew the Dark Mark on my arm during that time.
**yet another note: I thoroughly expect you to be aware that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows premiered at 12:01 this morning? If not...SHAME ON YOU!!!**
In 3rd hour, some wacko teacher playfully scolded my friend and lab partner for telling her sister that another teacher was better than him. The wacko teacher, who is not my science teacher but merely a random man with nothing better to do during 3rd hour, left the room, and we all relaxed and continued on with our labs.
We were stupid.
The minute we let our guard down, the teacher snuck in through the back door of the room, tiptoed to where my friend and I were sitting, and proceeded to grab my ol' pal by the shoulders and scream loudly in her ear. It was definitely something that doesn't happen every day.
4th hour, we had a puppet show. Just like little kids ;) We got extra credit if we brought in our own puppets, so I, being a sucker for extra credit, threw together a puppet. It was BOSS.
5th hour was Foods. Ah, Foods. Grand old Foods class. I shall have to write a whole new blog post on this hour some time. But for now, let's just say it was an eventful 55 minutes.
Finally, 6th hour. It was pretty dang boring. We had a nasty sub, but at least that's better than my perverted teacher. (No freakin' joke...he's a total perv. He tells girls' parents he likes to watch girls walk down the hallway, etc, etc).
The real action happened after school, which is the namesake of this blog post. I like to call the event...
THE BANANA AMBUSH.
Soo, totally, liiikee I'm leaningg upp against thhe counterr texttingng my besstiieess...
okay, I'll stop.
So I was leaning on the counter, texting my friends, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spied a certain yellow object. Out of the other corner of my other eye, I noticed my little brother was munching away on dinner, obvlivious to the apparent wheels and gears turning in my head. I devised a devious plan. Sneakily, I slid the yellow object into my hand, keeping up the facade of being thoroughly involved in my texting. Text, text, text. Text, text, text. Just when everybody was least suspecting it...
ON GUARD!!!!!!!!! (or whatever the bullfighters and such say)
I screamed this phrase as loudly as I could as I leapt across the counter, shoving the banana in my brother's face.
His reaction was priceless.
Anyways, regardless of whether it's Not Stanny or not, it really has been quite a week. I have been extremely busy. Actually, I take that back. I hate it when people say that. So, let's just settle with, it has been almost impossible to cram in a blog post in this activity-flurried 7 or so days. There, that's better.
I WAS going to write about each day and what happened..but my brain is so fried that I really can't remember anything except what happened today. So I guess I'll just blab about that instead.
It all started in 1st Hour.
We were just working away like busy little bees...but then Sharon had to go and be wierd. As always.
**note: Sharon is not a girl. Sharon is a boy. At least, that's our nickname for him, since his last name is Sharon**
He suddenly started to reach into his backpack and pull out his little stash of gum and candy, which he began to pile onto his desk. He must've had 15 or so Jolly Rancher chewies. I squinted at him and held out my hand, but he refused to deal out any of his precious little treats. That made me a liiiittle frustrated. Sharon then proceeded to stuff a huge wad of Bubbalicious gum into his mouth, and, jealous of Patty's bubble-blowing skillz, tried to blow an even bigger bubble.
**note: Patty is a girl. Obvvv, that's not her real name.**
He did blow a bubble, but it wasn't bigger than Patty's. What he did next was totally Sharon-like. He takes the bubble, and seals it shut, before taking it out of his mouth. But due to his clumsiness, he drops it on the floor. Then, he picks it back up and shows everybody in the proximity/vicinity (Which one do I use? Vicinity sounds more official...), including the teacher. Next, to the astonishment of me, Patty, and others...he pops the bubble back into his mouth and begins to chew. Disgusting much?!!
The craziness continued in 2nd hour. I drew the Dark Mark on my arm during that time.
**yet another note: I thoroughly expect you to be aware that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows premiered at 12:01 this morning? If not...SHAME ON YOU!!!**
In 3rd hour, some wacko teacher playfully scolded my friend and lab partner for telling her sister that another teacher was better than him. The wacko teacher, who is not my science teacher but merely a random man with nothing better to do during 3rd hour, left the room, and we all relaxed and continued on with our labs.
We were stupid.
The minute we let our guard down, the teacher snuck in through the back door of the room, tiptoed to where my friend and I were sitting, and proceeded to grab my ol' pal by the shoulders and scream loudly in her ear. It was definitely something that doesn't happen every day.
4th hour, we had a puppet show. Just like little kids ;) We got extra credit if we brought in our own puppets, so I, being a sucker for extra credit, threw together a puppet. It was BOSS.
5th hour was Foods. Ah, Foods. Grand old Foods class. I shall have to write a whole new blog post on this hour some time. But for now, let's just say it was an eventful 55 minutes.
Finally, 6th hour. It was pretty dang boring. We had a nasty sub, but at least that's better than my perverted teacher. (No freakin' joke...he's a total perv. He tells girls' parents he likes to watch girls walk down the hallway, etc, etc).
The real action happened after school, which is the namesake of this blog post. I like to call the event...
THE BANANA AMBUSH.
Soo, totally, liiikee I'm leaningg upp against thhe counterr texttingng my besstiieess...
okay, I'll stop.
So I was leaning on the counter, texting my friends, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spied a certain yellow object. Out of the other corner of my other eye, I noticed my little brother was munching away on dinner, obvlivious to the apparent wheels and gears turning in my head. I devised a devious plan. Sneakily, I slid the yellow object into my hand, keeping up the facade of being thoroughly involved in my texting. Text, text, text. Text, text, text. Just when everybody was least suspecting it...
ON GUARD!!!!!!!!! (or whatever the bullfighters and such say)
I screamed this phrase as loudly as I could as I leapt across the counter, shoving the banana in my brother's face.
His reaction was priceless.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I'm not Winnida Sanchez either. Or Robert Esther.
So now I have a rapidly growing list of names of which I am not:
1. Stan
2. Winnida Sanchez
3. Robert Esther
Yesterday my phone starts to ring. The number does not register as any of my contacts, but purely for entertainment purposes, I pick up. Conversation was as follows:
Me: "Hello?"
Woman's Voice: "HelloisWinnidaSanchezthere?" (talks in that fast receptionist-y way)
Me: "Ummm...no...I think you have the wrong number...?"
Woman's Voice: "Is this not ******* [my number]?"
Me: "Er, yeah, it is..."
Woman's Voice: "Oh, thenthisnumbermust'vegottenreassigned."
Me: "Yeah. Bye."
Woman's Voice: "Buhbye."
As for Robert Esther, I had repeatedly recieved calls from a specific number...and it was REALLY getting on my nerves. So one day while sitting on a wall outside (yes, I'm skilled. I sit on walls) I took it upon myself to call back. Conversation was as follows:
Me: "Hi, um, can you PLEASE stop calling me? I'm not Robert Esther!!!"
Different Woman's Voice: "[silent for a few seconds] ...Okay hun, I'll change it in the database."
Me: "THANK YOU!!!!"
DWV: "Mhmmm."
Me: "Bye."
DWV: "Bye."
Why can't people get it into their minds that I am NOT Stan, Winnida Sanchez, or Robert Esther? I'm Just Me! (Not my real name of course...)
Anyways, I'm starting to believe that my number used to be the number that, like, some con man used to put down under different names all the time. That'd be pretty cool, except it's annoying, getting all these random calls from receptionists. Which reminds me....not all calls were from receptionists....
So I'm checking my voicemail, hearing the usual quick hang-up of all of those who realize, a bit too late, that I'm not Robert Esther or Winnida Sanchez. But then I hear something out of the ordinary: a song. I can't remember the exact lyrics. As usual, this brought me to my breaking point, so I decided to invest in a little revenge.
I dialed the number, careful to press *67, and turned on my radio. When somebody picked up, it sounded like an older woman, so I felt a little bit bad. She kept saying "Hello? HELLO? HELLO?" as I held the phone up to the radio. Finally I took mercy on her and hung up. SWEET, SWEET REVENGE.
Well, you know what has come out of all of this? Just yesterday, after the Winnida Sanchez call, I re-recorded my voicemail message. Now, if you were to call my number and I were not to pick up, you would hear, "Hi, this is Renata. If you're calling for Winnida Sanchez or Robert Esther, you've reached the wrong number."
Oh yeah. My voice message is boss.
1. Stan
2. Winnida Sanchez
3. Robert Esther
Yesterday my phone starts to ring. The number does not register as any of my contacts, but purely for entertainment purposes, I pick up. Conversation was as follows:
Me: "Hello?"
Woman's Voice: "HelloisWinnidaSanchezthere?" (talks in that fast receptionist-y way)
Me: "Ummm...no...I think you have the wrong number...?"
Woman's Voice: "Is this not ******* [my number]?"
Me: "Er, yeah, it is..."
Woman's Voice: "Oh, thenthisnumbermust'vegottenreassigned."
Me: "Yeah. Bye."
Woman's Voice: "Buhbye."
As for Robert Esther, I had repeatedly recieved calls from a specific number...and it was REALLY getting on my nerves. So one day while sitting on a wall outside (yes, I'm skilled. I sit on walls) I took it upon myself to call back. Conversation was as follows:
Me: "Hi, um, can you PLEASE stop calling me? I'm not Robert Esther!!!"
Different Woman's Voice: "[silent for a few seconds] ...Okay hun, I'll change it in the database."
Me: "THANK YOU!!!!"
DWV: "Mhmmm."
Me: "Bye."
DWV: "Bye."
Why can't people get it into their minds that I am NOT Stan, Winnida Sanchez, or Robert Esther? I'm Just Me! (Not my real name of course...)
Anyways, I'm starting to believe that my number used to be the number that, like, some con man used to put down under different names all the time. That'd be pretty cool, except it's annoying, getting all these random calls from receptionists. Which reminds me....not all calls were from receptionists....
So I'm checking my voicemail, hearing the usual quick hang-up of all of those who realize, a bit too late, that I'm not Robert Esther or Winnida Sanchez. But then I hear something out of the ordinary: a song. I can't remember the exact lyrics. As usual, this brought me to my breaking point, so I decided to invest in a little revenge.
I dialed the number, careful to press *67, and turned on my radio. When somebody picked up, it sounded like an older woman, so I felt a little bit bad. She kept saying "Hello? HELLO? HELLO?" as I held the phone up to the radio. Finally I took mercy on her and hung up. SWEET, SWEET REVENGE.
Well, you know what has come out of all of this? Just yesterday, after the Winnida Sanchez call, I re-recorded my voicemail message. Now, if you were to call my number and I were not to pick up, you would hear, "Hi, this is Renata. If you're calling for Winnida Sanchez or Robert Esther, you've reached the wrong number."
Oh yeah. My voice message is boss.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Heyyyo. I'm Not Stan.
Welcome to my Not Stan Blog.
Curious about the name?
Yeahh, I thought so.
Let's just say...you don't want to be a Stan. (No offense to people named Stan out there--I'm not talking about you). Cuz you know what the first name besides Bob that comes to your mind when thinking of a name is? You guessed it: Stan. And nobody wants to be like that, right? Famous, but not quite. Second-best. As they say, so close yet so far.
Well, I guess some people do want to be Stans. But they're the evil little minions you hear about in books. Minions, drones, clones, followers, whatever you want to call them...they're all Stans.
I hope you never fall victim to this fate of Stan-ness.
So, I've created this blog.
It's a remedy for all outbreaks of Stanitis. Feel yourself catching a Stan? You know where to go:
http://www.notstan.blogspot.com/
Curious about the name?
Yeahh, I thought so.
Let's just say...you don't want to be a Stan. (No offense to people named Stan out there--I'm not talking about you). Cuz you know what the first name besides Bob that comes to your mind when thinking of a name is? You guessed it: Stan. And nobody wants to be like that, right? Famous, but not quite. Second-best. As they say, so close yet so far.
Well, I guess some people do want to be Stans. But they're the evil little minions you hear about in books. Minions, drones, clones, followers, whatever you want to call them...they're all Stans.
I hope you never fall victim to this fate of Stan-ness.
So, I've created this blog.
It's a remedy for all outbreaks of Stanitis. Feel yourself catching a Stan? You know where to go:
http://www.notstan.blogspot.com/
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