Okay....
So, I wasn't planning on writing any blogs this summer. I thought I'd just do a blog-haitus until school starts again. With an awesome internship and a vacation to California on the way, what did I even have to complain about? Plus, I wanted to be a network tv show...not a soap opera.
Turns out my life is soapier than I dare admit.
I just got back from what has to be the stupidest series of events that have ever happened on a vacation. Seriously, the National Lampoon Family has nothing on me right now.
First, our car ride there was the worst thing ever. At one point, I was convinced that we'd slipped out of New Mexico and into Hell. So, in other words, we stayed in New Mexico (thereby implying that New Mexico is hell. Bam. Joke landed.) The ride was supposed to take us 28 hours. It took us 38. Imagine 38 hours in a cargo van with seven other people who you don't particularly like all that much.
New Mexico.
It was terrrible.
Next, I blew up my thumb. Like, not blew up like a balloon. Blew up like a damn explosion. Long story short, my uncle makes model airplanes. Like, the big ones that apparently require stupidly huge batteries. I was sitting at a table and I saw some wires. I didn't know what they were attached to nor did I really care to find out. I was bored, so I started sticking them into each other.
Turns out you shouldn't randomly stick black and red wires together. Beacuse they'll freaking explode.
I saw the fire (because there was some. And sparks. And smoke.) and I was convinced that I was straight-up going to die. I said my prayers, I was ready to go. It was the end. I had accepted it.
Then the fire stopped and I started to laugh because I was alive. But I also started to cry because I was terrified and my thumb freaking hurt. So, I was laughing and crying at the same time. My sister informed me that she had never been so scared of another human before.
So many emotions.
Anyway, I'd like to propose that we change the proverb from "Curiosity killed the cat" into 'Being stupid almost killed the teenage girl with 1/4 of a college degree."
My war wound. I deserve a medal. And a higher-cut shirt.
We weren't even to California yet.
Once we got there, things got stupider.
For one, I decided that sunscreen was for wimps. Forget the fact that I haven't been outside for longer than twenty minutes at a time in the last six years. Yeah, that's not even a little bit important.
Except it totally is and, as someone who could probably pass for albino, when you don't wear sunscreen, you end up looking less tan and more like a burn victim. All of my skin peeled off.
An anonymous burn victim.
And you thought I couldn't get any more a-peeling. Ha.
I amuse myself.
Anyway, I'll skip a few of the stupid things that happened (they include my siblings informing a lifeguard that they had seen a shark, maybe, and siblings breaking my new headphones and me crying about it). Because I really need to tell you what happened at Disneyland.
Someone stole my new iphone. At the happiest place on earth.
Only me. Only me and my stupid life would get an iphone stolen on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. I never liked you, Harrison Ford, what with your stupid hair and action-hero physique.
I never even got to download the app that makes gun noises.
It's okay. I'll just shoot y'all with this real one I picked up in Texas.
I would have used it for good and not evil, I promise.
But now I have to use my money made at my stupid job selling lawnmowers to buy a new stupid phone that won't be as nice as my last one.
Anyway, that was my vacation. It was stupid. Like my life.
Danielle Out.
Me and my stolen phone flitting around
and being vain in happier times.
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