WHAT THE HELL, BLOGGER!?!?!?!?!!!?! HAVE YOU NO DECENCY? WHY CAN'T I NAME MY POSTS!?!?!?!?!

Anyway, pretend this is the name of my post:

How Trail Mix Was Single-Handedly Responsible for an Unwanted Mid-Day Shower I was Forced to take in a Highschool Change Room

Our High School isn't a linear system, so we only have 4 course per semester. Because I'm a band geek--err, awesome chick, and our band teacher didn't want us playing for only half the year, him and the gym teacher have decided that we have band and gym all year, and they are every other day. And because, there are 1100 hundred simplistic kids who need to somehow fit in a gym block, to keep things easier, all of the band girls are in one class, and all the band boys in another.

So, here we are, a group of 30+ grade-nine band chicks in a P.E. class. As you may imagine, the caliber of athletic performance is not particularly high. Our gym teacher, Mr Rogers (no, not the guy in a green cardigan who has a show on PBS) happens to be the nicest man on this planet, and his concern is us finishing the 3.5 K run in under 82 minutes (meanwhile the grade 9 band BOYS have Mr Anderson...), because that's when the block ends. I DIGRESS. I ran it in just over 25 minutes and came out just better than average, so I sat, waiting for the n00bs who walked it in around 35 minutes. Because our teacher thinks we've had enough exercise, we're sent to the change room and given around half an hour to change and get ready for the next class.

In the change room, I remember I have my trail mix. Trail mix, in case you didn't know, is a godly composition of peanuts, almonds, peculiarly salty raisins and m&ms. It's so good, sometimes I suspect it's made from pegasus droppings. I was eating this delightful snack when all of a sudden, I was attacked. Hungry, grade-nine band chicks wanted my trail mix more than they wanted to see a muscular man shirtless, and what was a pleasant conversation turned into a free-for-all battle. I jumped higher than I ever have before into a shower stall. I locked the door and stood on a platform in the shower stall, valiantly protecting my trail mix and myself.

The shower stalls are pretty deep, and the platform I was on was in a little mini-closet sized area that was separated from the shower by a divided that covered a little under half of the passage between the shower and the area in which I stood. As I stood on the platform of security, Ella, one of my best friends, encouraged me to turn the shower on. I was a solid four feet away from the shower head, so I thought I would remained untouched by what I thought was a weak, welfare shower head.

I clutched my tupperware container in one hand and the wall with the other and outstretched my leg until I touched the shower switch. Guess what part of the school was renovated? A brand new, poorly engineered, dangerously strong shower switched on, leaving my stranded on the island, measuring 2 square feet. Frantically, I jump out of the shower, only to realize that there is no possible way for the water, which has now claimed ownership of my "real" clothes, to drain itself. Basically, I either take one for the team or allow the possessive water claim the lives on innocent gym shorts and free t-shirts. Being the good samaritan I am, I ran into the rushing, lukewarm water that was threatening my possessions. Under the falling water, and after pressing the button that turned it on, I hear a faint cry,

"MEGHAN, IT TURNS OFF BY ITSELF!!!"

Dripping wet, I exit the shower, and as if to mock me, it gently turns off. Fortunately for me, and for her, depending on how you look at it, Ella had an extra pair of cotton shorts that served as a redneck towel for me to (partially) dry myself off with. I went to English class with wet hair.

ANYhoo, lesson learned, and a story tell. Hopefully it brought other people more joy than it brought me...

English muffin in hand, I leave you, yearning for the next post. If there is one. Lol.

Pencil Crisis of May-June 2010

That's it, Blogger, first born child EATEN. Really? What did I do to lose the right to name my babies/posts? That's OK, I forgive you, I know you're just intimidated by my awesomeness. Once you sort out your insecurities, you know where to find my to apologize to me.

Alright, at the beginning of the year in grade 7, I swore to myself that I wouldn't let anyone borrow my pencils/pens/paper, because in grade 6, no one had any pencils/paper/pens whatsoever, and I didn't want a repeat of that whole fiasco. Though it was hard to say no to my beggar-classmates, I soon built a resistance to their constant whining and begging for writing utensils. However, as the year progresses, I slowly started to forget anything that I had promised myself at the beginning of the year. After the whines got to an almost unbearable high, I gave in to the yelping and lent out a single pencil. The fact that I had writing utensils quickly spread around the classroom, and before you know it, I had lent out all of my pens and pencils. I got around 40% of them back, and I started to remember the promises I had made earlier on in the year. I stopped giving out pencils and I quickly became the bitter, nazi-like figure who temporarily pissed people off when I clutched and held close my precious pencils.

Things were going as planned, until people resorting to stealing, resulting in a permanent loss of writing utensils amongst everyone in the class, because everyone would "accidentally" lose the pencils somewhere in the school. Soon, the few who had pencils were automatically the respected ones in the class, and before you knew it, pencils became the most valuable thing known to these neanderthals. People would share pencils, taking turns writing sentences, and before you knew it, there was a black market, consisting solely of pens and pencils found in peoples basements.

After getting used to this pencil depression, it was already 2 weeks before summer vacation. As Yulia and I were cleaning our lockers, she stops talking and just stared open mouthed in her locker. Can you guess what she found. That's right. A brand new, unopened pack of 24 SHARPENED STAEDTLER PENCILS. Yulia and I kept this juicy secret to ourselves until the last day of school, when we rubbed it in peoples faces:D

So, now you know about the Pencil Crisis of 2010.

Waffle in hand, I leave you yearning for the next post. If there is one. lol.

HEYO!

So, for some reason Blogger is being a tool and revoked my rights of giving these posts a title. Believe me, it's bothering the hell out of me and I am THIS CLOSE to eating Blogger's first born child.


Sorry, this doesn't technically count as a post since I can really think of anything to blog about...any ideas? Go like the facebook page ( click here! ) and post any blog post ideas on there, or just simply comment below.

With what I think is an allergic reaction to the vitamin E in my moisturizer on my face, I leave you yearning for the next post. If there is one. Lol.

Oh the Maturity...

I'M BACCCCKKKKK!!!!! I bet you missed me! I'm sorry, but I was just dry, I couldn't think of anything to write about, and to be honest, I don't really want to put my name on something that's super lame. Unfortunately, I had to grow up:( I'm not in grade 7 anymore! I'm in grade 8, and apparently I have to starts becoming "responsible" and "mature". Even though Div 8 is no longer "real", it still exists and is going strong:P The kind of creepy thing is, now I'm in div 16. I'm gonna laugh if next year I'm in div 24.

For the most part, I really like the kids in my class. They're all really nice and most of them are almost as crazy as the kids in div 8 were, but I like them. This class has quirks of their own...

Have you read the Diary of a Wimpy Kid? Well, you know the cheese touch? I don't know who, but someone thought it would be funny to start up the cheese touch in class. Now, everyone has their fingers crossed all the time, and people are running away frantically in hopes of escaping the cheese touch of doom. My family and I were having dinner and my mom pointed out something that made me think... she said, "So pretty much grade 8's and grade 5's are on the same level?". After pondering that statement for a while, I realized that everything we had worked so hard to achieve was flying out the metaphorical window at the speed of Connor running when he's caffeine high. Our empire has been crushed. We were now no different then those lame grade 5's. What to do, what to do? Really, you can't change how people are, you just have to change the way they think.

The next day at school I looked around the classroom, and this is what I say:

People fighting over how gets to try and open my thermos. "Motheati" falling over because he was laughing so hard. Connor grabbing peoples collar bone and chasing them across the classroom.

At recess, you see kids having contests to see who can jump across the most people in a single leap, you see kids like Inho, who...well you can't really say anything, you just have to meet him. Amidst all of this dysfunctional chaos, I had an epiphany; THE WORLD IS DOOMED. If kids are the future, what the hell is the future going to look like if these maniacs are going to be running the world? All I can say is that Nutella is going to be a lot more common...

So, what are the kids in your class like? Leave a comment or post it on the facebook page, "School Life is Hard".

So, with a glass of water in hand, I leave you yearning for the next post. If there is one. lol.

If only they knew...

Everyone has secrets, am I right? Everyone one has at least ONE thing that no one but them knows. Everyone has one thing, that they wish they could tell someone, but can't. There are some important things that people keep secret, and some things people choose to keep secret or "hush hush" because they are to scared of the consequences. FOR EXAMPLE: You may keep who you are in love with a secret because you don't want to feel awkward or anything. THEN, there are things that you keep secret because you'd get into trouble for them, like our conversations at recess or in class when the teacher isn't there.

1: Soooo who do you like
2: john
1: AAAW REALLY!?!?!
2: yes, why?
1: no reason, i just wanted to know
2: you can't tell anyone, okay?
1: don't worry, i wont.

That is the kind of thing you'd keep secret, why? Figure it out, if you can't figure out why, you need some help.

A: I TOLD YOU NOT TO GRAPE ME ANYMORE
B: YOU WERE THE ONE GRAPING ME!!!
A: WELL IT WAS YOU WHO STARTING TOUCHING ME FIRST
B: YOU SAID YOU NEEDED TO PRACTICE FOR JAZZ BAND!!!
A: BUT NOW I DON'T AND I'M NOT READY TO BE GRAPED!!!

That, is the kind of thing you keep secret because...well...you just do. imagine explaining that conversation to a teacher? awkward...real awkward...

Sometimes, secrets are a good thing, like in the example exhibited above. I mean, it's just weird to know everything about everyone, isn't it?

i absolutely love it when someone walks in on people doing something really wierd and yelling over something random, and the person who walked in has this look of horror mixed with curiousity and a hint of confusion. I personally think it's hilarious.

Now, I'm sorry if this post was to short or not good enough, but I've been so busy I've had no time to think of any good topics!

Ice tea in hand, i leave you yearning for the next post. If there is one. lol.