Summer's already more than half over, guys. This sucks.
This sucks because school is starting soon and school usually equals work for me. Not, like, a lot of work because I am a champ at doing as little work as possible.
But presumably some amount of work will need to be done in order to obtain my stupid college degree. Ugh, effort. Effort is the worst.
But, yeah. Summer. I have had various adventures so far, each as wacky as the last.
(I will level with you. That is a lie. There has been minimal wackiness. Most of my adventures have involved me being by myself and watching a lot of cartoons. Like...my little brother and I watched every episode of Ninjago. The fact that he was there makes it a tiny bit better, maybe, but I was legitimately invested in it after a while. I'd give it three out of five ninja stars. Watch it if you have a small child and are not allowed to play video games with the small child in the room because of "blood" and "violence" and "no, Danielle. Just no." Anyway.)
A little while ago, my sisters and I had a girls day for my little sisters sixteenth birthday party. Unfortunately, this involved pedicures. I really really really do not like it when people touch my feet. Like, I'm weird about it. Or weirder than usual, I guess. It's like going to the dentist but for feet. They even have the same lil drill and stuff.
So, when I was there, instead of getting a pedicure and biting back screams of horror the whole time, I spent the whole time chilling in the corner. Like a boss. A really awkward and uncomfortable boss. Yeah.
Anyway. My last year of school is coming up. The fact that I have no life plans after that is probably kind of concerning. Like, I'm legitimately concerned. I'm being serious about this. I am seriously worried about the lack of plans I have after college.
Am I going to do anything to combat this problem? Probably not. My usual problem solving philosophy is to ignore things until they go away. Sometimes it works, sometimes my water gets shut off. So, you know, pros and cons.
Speaking of problems, my parents had a talk with me about my drinking problem the other day. And by drinking problem, I mean my problem with drinking way way way way too much apple juice.
I just really like it okay? I can stop any time I want. I don't have a problem, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.
Yeah. Between this and all of the cartoons, I think that I might actually be five years old.
But, legit, like the only place's I've driven myself anywhere this summer were various grocery stores to get juice and literally nothing else. And yes, before you ask, it was necessary to go to different stores every time. Do you know what happens to people who become "regulars" at grocery stores? You don't?
Well...neither do I. But I don't want to find out!
I know how working at boring, minimum wage jobs is. It involves a lot of standing, staring and judging people. There is so much judging at grocery stores. So much. And I don't want to be that weird girl who buys gallons of apple juice. That girl is going to die alone in a house full of cats who will eat her corpse.
I don't even like cats that much.
Urgh. My life, you guys. My life.
Oh, adding to the things that make me a literal five year old, I have been stupid obsessed with laser tag lately. I have like no money and I have been spending all of that no money on laser tag.
I REALLY LIKE IT YOU GUYS.
It's like a video game but in real life. I'm actually reasonably good at it. I mean, most of the people that I'm shooting are in elementary school, but they're littler than me so they're smaller targets! They have the advantage! I am almost positive that the average elementary schooler is smaller than me.
They also play a lot more Call of Duty than me if the way they were swearing was an indication. Also, they called me a n00b like three times (the l33tsp34k was implied).
Also, they were super mean. I told off one of my friends for, like, relentlessly attacking this little guy. "Don't shoot five year olds!" Was my precise phrasing. I remember this because after I said it, the kid I was talking about turned around with this completely disgusted look on his eyes and shouted, "I'm seven and a half!" with so much disgust in his voice that I was surprised I didn't spontaneously combust under the sheer force of his hatred.
Then he called me a bitch.
So I shot him.
I don't like that word, kid, unless I am the one using it.
But, yeah, other than being called mean names by seven and a half year olds, laser tag has been a huge success. Five out of five. Would recommend.
Hmmmm.
Well, that's pretty much all I got for y'all right now. I could go on, of course. I could always go on. I have a problem with over-sharing and also I am pretty sure I have some form of attention-deficit-ness that makes long, unconnected rambles a thing that I am very excellent at.
But, I figure you have loved ones or at least taquitos to get back to.
But, real fast, while we're on the subject of taquitos, does anyone want a box of 57, wait, 52 frozen taquitos? I meant to buy a box of twelve and I got a box of 57 instead. Who even needs that many taquitos? I certainly do not. I mean, I've had them since, like, February and I've eaten five of them.
I'd have a taquito party or something, but that would involve effort and we all know how I feel about effort!
I like taquitos more than effort. And I freaking hate taquitios. So, so, so much.
I should go. I'm getting unreasonably angry about the money I wasted buying that many stupid taquitos. I'm probs going to go shake my fist at the sky and shout "TAAAAAAAAQUUUUUIIIITOOOOOOOS!" In a dramatic fashion.
Shut up, it is totally justified.
Laters.
