Boredeom, Indeed (And Really Bad Spelling)

Today, I was bored.
(You: Wow, Shanna, that's awesome!! Me: Hahaha, I know. Thanks.)
I drew a dog. Her name is ANITA
Awesome
Neat
Interesstingly
Tiny
Animal

I understand that some people are highly gifted when it comes to MS paint. Obviously I aqm not*. 

*I will not lie to you so I will noty fix typos

This was supposed to be my dog, but somewhere along the line she moved, so i gave up and made her cool. ASnd playing thrb saxophone. And wearing glasses. And bleeding. w00t. 

To prove that I indeed am very uncoordinated when it comes to MS Paint, I drew a Venn diagram.                             

As you can see, other people write and there is beer and cheeseburgers and money and rubies and smileys and hearts. On m y sider, there are spiders (thats what that blob with legs is) and fists (the weird pink thing) and barking dogs with big teeth and frowny faces.

I am drained of energy/creativity now. 

Bye. . .

I'll talk to yopu peeple later.

Saturdays are wonderful. You don't have the guilt of not having work done yet, you sleep late and stay up, and mess around all day. This saturday was no exception. I woke up at nine AM, and, after a few hours of trying to sleep again, I went downstairs, it was about eleven. After sitting around for maybe an hour, I was really half-asleep, my dad stood up. 
"We're going to the st. Patrick's day parade." I leapt at the opportunity to leave the house. After driving and listening to a mix of Beatles, Nirvana, and a large amount of other music, all probably written before 2000 for half an hour, my father parked the car. We walked for another half hour, maybe fifteen minutes. Only one brother was there, and he shall be known as Brother 2, because he is third oldest (I am youngest at 13, Brother 1 is 16, Brother 2 is 15, Sister is 21-going-on-22). Brother 2 was complaining the whole way. At the parade, we stood on the grass, me on a rock because I'm still 5'0", and watched the parade. A band playing "Sweet Caroline" came by. 
"You know, no one actually knows the words to that song." Brother 2 said to me, as my dad mumbled and yelled out, "BUM BUM BUM!" at the right time. I nodded and laughed. 
After a confusing and long ride home, we got ready to go to the bowling alley. Nothing really funny happen until I got a spare. Me, the most un-sporty girl at my school, got her first-ever spare in REAL bowling! I ran up to my brother and reached out to fake-slap him, but I fell and hit the ground, hard. After bowling, me and Bestfriend and SC (two good friends) and both Brothers, along with SCBrother started playing pool. Halfway through game one, an obviously intoxicated man came up to us, grumbling something about "class." In a last-ditch attempt to get his point across, he smashed his hand, knuckle-down, onto the pool table, following with a last grunt of "CLASS!" and inspecting his hand before staggering off. 
I hope he didn't drive home. 

You're Lucky You're Not Me

I am a Jew, so, shalom. I am also a Jew in an all-Christian school. In a town called CHURCHville. Where our football team is the SAINTS. Getting a picture of a redneck school? Good. You're catching on rather quickly. Anyways, being a Jew in my school is TERRIBLE. My brother, Joe, is the only Jew in high school, my best friend is the only other in middle school. Being a Jew here means having Hitler threats thrown at you, "Jewbag" is an okay thing for someone to call me, and I am almost alone. Being a socialist is a bad idea. Therefore, I am routinely called "anarchist," "Nazi," "hippie," "terrorist," "un-American," et cetera, et cetera.
My theory on life is simple: I wouldn't do it the same way, but I won't force you. War is bad; that doesn't mean the revoloutionary war was dumb, it means we should stay out of wars. The meaning of life is leaving the world a better place than it was when you entered it. Why am I hated? I mean, really? At my school there is a boy. He will be known here as IP. IP is the biggest asshole I have ever met. He is the scum of the earth, cruel, mean, and ignorant as hell. I'm going to post some funny stories soon, but I'm having troubles. My brothers constantly fight, I got a referral and two lunch detentions for drawing a picture. An appropriate picture, at that. I promise, though, my next blog will be funny. TTFN.

A Perfect Excuse

Hello. This is A Perfect Excuse. For what? For not paying attention. For not doing work. For laughing, playing, and (hopefully) inspiring. I'm thirteen. I'm short, I'm weird, I'm young and "misunderstood" and ignored and shunned. And I hope you'll listen to me, 'cause someone has to.
You can be my secret friend.
Don't be creeped out. I'm not psycho. I will tell funny stories and I will pour my anger into these electric pages.