Sex and the Home of Blues

Summer is supposed to be the season of love, when those cheesy-ass romances are supposed to bloom like a rose, or something. But what about those of us who aren't that lucky? Those of us who have to spend those precious three months watching other couples frolic in the sand and feed each other chocolate strawberries? We try to handle it in different ways. We bury ourselves in work, a creative hobby, or we become the flirtacious life of the party. All to cover up the fact that we're sick of sitting on the sidelines like a chess club member at a junior high dance. Is it so wrong to find comfort in having someone to just flirt with and help you feel like a member of the club? Can it really be that bad to just want to have fun without having to go through all the messiness that even a casual relationship entails? Sometimes casual flirtation can be a good thing, but at other times we're accused of being teases, leading people on. Does this put us in the same category as the cheating, manipulating men we hope to avoid by not getting too close? Or are we merely cautious, smart even, to not get tangled up in a cliched, tangled romance that has about a 50% chance of making it past the 6 month mark?

This is a Title

It's been a while since I've written, so I figured I'd again now, even though no one reads this freaking blog anyway. But, whatever. For my nonexistant imaginary readers, I will gratify your salivating need for my poetic words. Blogs are supposed to be about your life, right? What goes on? Well, what if you have no life? Because lately, because all of my friends have their own things going on, it's pretty much been a solo ride. I miss them, but it's not like I have any right to complain. They're following their passions. I'm watching Comedy Central and practicing chords on my guitar. I guess I could write about stuff like politics or whatever, if that stuff didn't make me want to listen to Rebecca Black over and over again. Or I could be the female version of Perez Hilton, only with better hair. But of course I'm too nice to write about my friends' and my various scandals, as if we had any. So that leaves... what? My pathetic lamenting over my lack of a love life? Some whiny crap about how nobody understands me or my life? Hmm... Nah, too tired/irritated at my brother and his chromosomally challenged friends to think about it now. But rest assured, my fictional fans, I will fulfill your dreams/fantasies all in good time.

Random Boringness and Blahblahblah

Haven't been writing lately... mainly because I'm lazy. But I miss this blog and my nonexistent followers, so here goes it again. School's ending soon, in about 2 weeks, for which I am eternally grateful. I shall finally be an upperclassman. Aka a Junior Jewel. Hopefully it'll be better than sophomore. Actually, I looked up the definition. Sophomore means "moron" in Latin. Ain't that the truth? Of course I wasn't allowed to see Ke$ha when she came a few weeks ago, because my parents have not grasped that unlike the majority of the teen population, I have no desire to wake up in some dumpster, hungover, when I go out. Yes, I am aware that this blog is not particularly exciting. But that's what you get when you have no life, you insatiable bloodthirsty readers. Of which, of course, there are none, but still. I do, however, have a piece of very exciting news. Scroll below to read...












HA!! Don't believe everything you read. Share the disappointment.