Insults

Ok, so you know my best friend Alexia? Well we were posting things on each other's walls (instead of having a facebook chat conversation, for some reason), and she called me a bitch (it happens), and I could legitimately not think of a comeback. This shocked me deeply.
So I googled "One word insults". And I came upon a site. It was just a person that was asking what the best insults were, and a bunch of people commented. I found the mother of all insults.

Douchemonger. I didn't know what it meant, but I loved it. So I went on Urban Dictionary, and apparently it has 2 meanings: 1. One who hordes douches. hordes douches. 2. A douche. Times 10.

This is officially my new favourite insult. In fact, I included the word in my latest facebook status. And I think carefully about what I post as my status. (unlike some people...)

So this led me to think that perhaps I should post a blog about my favourite insults:

1. Douchemonger. I've already explained that.

2. Bint. It's kind of like a tart. I never use it, because I don't enjoy calling people slutty, but it's pretty awesome.

3. Cocksucker. You can see why. It just feels right in my mouth.        That didn't sound right.

4. Douche. This is just a really good insult all around. It's not necessarily a swear, so I can say it around my parents, but it's also insulting. It's just right.

5. Pussy. This doesn't get to be used as much as douche, since, for one thing, I cannot say this around my parents, and sometimes, someone isn't actually being a pussy. They're just being a douche.

6. Slut. It's just bint. But not as fun a word. But you can't really say binty, you have to say slutty. And plus, not everyone knows what a bint is. In fact, every time I type bint, little red dots appear under it. But apparently slut is a word. No red dots. Maybe because it's in the Iliad. Helen calls herself a slut. It made me laugh.

7. Testicle. My friend R***** is an all around douche. But he's so fucking hilarious, that I can't not be friends with him. So I was discussing what his new insult should be, because douche had been worn out on him. I decided on sodding testicle. It was perfect.

8. Cumdumpster. This is also one of those words that has little red dots under it. Anyway, it's better than slut, because one, it's way more fun to say, and two, it's far more insulting.

That is all. Keep these amazing insults in mind for future arguments. If you can think of more, comment.

Words I detest, but use anyway

Moist. Does this not make you think of sweaty old men?

Sweaty old men that want to molest you?

It's such a repulsive word, but I use it anyway. At my cousin's birthday party, he had a vanilla cake, and I said it was really moist and delicious. If you go by definitions, these words are good together, but delicious is a nice word. Moist is a sweaty-old-men-that-want-to-molest-you word, therefore, not good. I then explained that I actually hate the word, and then ruined "moist" for my cousin's girlfriend.

I'm not sure whether to feel pride or guilt.

I made someone realise something. That's special. But I also ruined something. That's sad.

But anyway. The cake was good. And moist.

Prenatal: I think it's the natal part. It's just not nice. Nay-tull.

I live near a Basha's, and I go there all the time to get groceries and shit, and, as in many stores, there is a loudspeaker thingy with announcements.

One of them is about prenatal vitamins. First of all, that just kind of made me uncomfortable, especially on the part of any men in the store at the time. Prenatal makes one think of women that are making babies, and thus, vagina.

The worst part? The person making the announcement is a dude. Poor guy.

Bowels: Why does this have multiple definitions? Words with one really horrible definition shouldn't have synonyms.

Bowels: where your shit is.

But for some fucking reason, there is also using it like this "Here I am, in the bowels of the city" eg. on the train. That just makes me think about shit. And how the sentence could possibly mean "Here I am, standing on a huge pile of shit".

Pubescent: It must be the pyu sound. It just doesn't roll off the tongue very nicely.

Say it: pyuuuuuuuu. It just makes you make a really idiotic face, like you're in the middle of insulting someone.

This is me being attractive, if you were wondering. And saying PYUUU at the same time.

Bra: I can't really even explain why I hate this word. Maybe because, once again, it's just not a word that rolls off the tongue. It's literally kind of hard to say.

And it makes me uncomfortable. Which doesn't really make sense, because I'm a pubescent girl , and I wear one every day.

Flesh: Say flesh. Right now.

You are making the face I am making in the "pyu" photo.

But at the same time, I kind of love saying flesh, because I'm really, really morbid.

DEATH! ROTTING! DISEASE! MURDER!

Excretion: This probably has a lot to do with the definition. And the thing is, if it meant something more like "land of rainbows, and happiness!!!!!!!:D!!!!", then I might like it. It's not a really disgusting word.

I'm done. Did you notice I've learned how to add underlines, and boldness, and italics, and PHOTOS OMG?? I'm super-duper excited about it.

Being Neat

I used to be really neat. I mean REALLY neat. Everything had it's place, and my room was always, always spotless. My older sister was very messy, and I tended to be angered by her sloppiness when she visited, but it was nice to see her, seeing as she lived in Wisconsin, and I still lived in London. As for my brother, I don't actually know. His room was the attic, and I didn't have much reason to go up there, so he could be just as neat as me, or as messy as my sister.

But then, I became a teenager. My room is a jungle now. I certainly know people who are much worse about it than me, so much so that their room smells bad, but I do have a lot of shit lying around.

I'm sitting here, on the ground (I hate sitting in chairs, don't ask me why), looking around at the pig sty that is my room. There is a duck shit green Eastpak bag sitting next to me on my left, with my pencil case next to it, and my purse that I just used to go to Olive Garden touching my left leg. Oh, and some CDs Dr. W gave the class to listen to that I haven't gotten around to doing anything about.

And a spoon? wut. ..............I'll clean it up later.

I also have skirts, books, and magazines lying about, and a pair of socks, that should really get washed, because they're my white socks, and I only have like 7 other pairs. I have to wear white socks for school you see. On my right, there's an empty water bottle, that I will refill on Monday because I don't want to buy a new one, and the water bottle I have that is SUPPOSED to be refilled, which is a bobble bottle, looks too much like a buttplug.

The yellow one. 

There's a broken tape measurer, a water filter jug thing, and an empty glass.

*fills glass*

My bed is unmade, and I'm not going to even think about my bathroom for the moment, but for the moment, I'm not going to do a single thing about it.

At least it smells like pears.

To Alexia.

BFFEEEEEEEEE YEAHH 

Alexia Willems is my best friend in the whole world. Unfortunately she lives in London, and I live in Tempe, and we only see each other once a year (though this year, maybe twice!). I met her when I was in 4rd grade (that took a second to figure out. The French system works backwards from 13 until 0 which is called Terminale. In French Terminer means to finish, so it makes sense. The reason I can figure American grades out is because 6eme = 6th grade. Or since you Americans have Preschool and Kintergarten or whatever, I can just go 13eme, 12eme, 11eme, 10eme, 9eme, 8eme (which is when I met Alexia), counting them off on my fingers and subtracting 2. It works). I was in M. Roch's class, who my brother had as a child as well. We met towards the end of the year, and apparently she only came over because I had a new puppy, Hobbes. (more on him and my other pets later) She had blonde hair, and was wearing loafers. I liked her loafers. We sat in the kitchen, petting Hobbes, who was the size of a teacup at the time, and then he got spooked by something and ran about the kitchen wee-weeing at the same time, leaving a trail of piss. It was hilarious, though it took some time to clean up. Alexia and I also bonded over Groovy Girl, the most amazing dolls on the Planet. They're better than Barbies because they're able to move, and there is so much more variety too. There are literally like 100 different dolls, each with names. Some of them I hated, like Celeste, so I just changed it. Anyway, Alexia and I started having sleep-overs like every week-end. I had my first sleep-over with her. I had a lot of fun at first, it being like a play date, but once we were going to bed, I got scared. But whatever I was like 8 so, yeah. I stayed though. At the beginning of my 4eme (8th grade), she left to go to the American School in London, where her brother went. She didn't move or anything, so it didn't change much, since we were in different years (she's 10 months younger than me) and I hung out with Jenna and Madeleine etc at school anyway. We remained very close, and continued having sleep-overs. At the end of 4eme, the most amazing year of my life, I moved to Arizona. I thought I wanted to, but I was wrong. I miss each and every one of my friends dearly. I saw Alexia a year later, and had 10 fun-filled days with her during which we played Thief and freaked out when we died, and went shopping, and then I got a macbook this January of 2010, so we could videochat, which is just the most incredible invention ever, and saw her in person that summer, and we went shopping some more, but didn't play Thief because it had gotten freakier, because the Thief was now in a dilapidated mental hospital with a little girl's voice. Yeah. She might be visiting this Spring Break, and I'm excited!
Alexia, I love you :] Happy birthday.

Note: She is molesting my face.

I have a follower!!!

Hi Chelsea!

By following me, you have boosted my self-esteem. Thank you. ^____^ You will get a dead baby in a box as a reward. I hope you like dead babies!

Also, I thought I should explain why I lack spare time. It's saturday, so I do actually have a few hours.  Today is the 21st of August (ooh that reminds me, I have another post to write specifically about my best friend. It's her birthday today!), and on the 9th of August, I started school at Tempe Preparatory Academy. I worked really really hard to get in. I had to take Algebra 2, Physics 1 and American History (because the French don't like America, I thought Lincoln was the first president. I still don't know any American History, though.). Algebra and Physics had to be taken at the same time at the end of my sophomore year at Corona, when I was preparing for final exams (which I will describe in detail later, because one of them really pissed me off), and each one took about an hour and a half each every day. I got As on both though! I'm still pretty bad at Physics and Algebra. If you're not getting the hint, I don't recommend online classes. Then, at the end of my summer, I had to do American History. It being summer, I was in lazy-mode, so I kept putting it off, but still got an A because my teacher loved me for reasons I can't explain. Maybe because the other people in the classes couldn't spell candidate. (candydut?) I was getting excited, thinking "I'm so ready for a new school! It's an opportunity to make so many new friends, (seeing as I had very few at Corona) and widen my horizons (is that the expression? whatever). My dad was so proud and bragged to everyone he knew about how hard I was working to get to TPA (anacronym for my school if you hadn't guessed), even though he helped me a LOT with all 3 online classes, because I'm terrible at all things remotely mathematical, and end of summer + school = no bueno.

So school started, I had my uniform

which isn't bad, but not great, I'm getting used to it, and the photo quality is bad. I'll come visit you in my uniform and you shall see that it's better than the photo makes it look. Just saying. So I had my school stuff:

That pile grew too. I had like 6 more books. I just didn't have them at the time, and I didn't take another picture. Well I did, I just didn't upload it...
Anyway, it seemed ok, my teachers were all pretty nice. I had math with Mr. D, who is the brother of a guy my mom had a crush on in high school (I have no idea why she told me that..), and he's really nice, but you know...........math.
Then I had Humane Letters (english + history?) with Mrs. H, who has a bad reputation, but I love her, and she's my cross country coach, which I haven't started yet, because I need a physical.... I hate physicals. Mother insists on being in the room with me. ITS REALLY AWKWARD. I'm not close enough to my Mother to want to be in the same room as her when I'm mostly naked. Back to my school story. Humane Letters lasts 2 hours, which actually don't seem all that long. It's a bueno class, in my opinion.
Followed by Physics with Mr. A, and physics is........................................horrible. No other way to put it. The first day was fine, because we didn't talk about physics at all. We went around the room and said things about ourselves. And Mr. A is nice.
And it being the first day, there was not lunch, therefore no awkward looking for somewhere to sit, which I appreciated. Then I had Spanish with Mr. C. I freaked out inside when I walked in and he started speaking Spanish. You see, I didn't take Spanish my sophomore year, because I couldn't drop any of my other classes (including Orchestra, because I love it), so I was rusty, to say the least.
Finally I had my last class, Music, or whatever I'm supposed to call it. Choir, Theory, whatever.. My teacher is SO. AWESOME. OMGAD. He's DR. W. DOCTOR!!1!!1111 He has his doctorate in piano, and he is just the most amazing music teacher I've ever had in my life. EVAR. I'm a terrible singer, so the fact that we have to sing worries me a tad, but I'm still cool with this class, because he plays piano sometimes. Yeah. We (and by we I mean the rest of the class, because it was some song they learned last year or whatever) were singing and he was improv-ing on the piano. I COULD SWEAR there was music in front of him. It was so amazing. Mr. Du (because there's already a Mr. D, and he teaches me Math now) (CDS teacher), kiss Dr. W's ass. You suck.

This being the first day, it was pretty ok. Looking back on my first day at Corona, I had fairly high hopes.

Nahhh...

Day 2: Math. Was. Scary. Mr D started teaching. Ohh math, I hate you.
But I didn't lose it until Humane Letters when we started studying the Iliad. (in my head "oh dear god") I started crying, which sounds terrible, but I'm an emotional person. That is how it is. Not like, super obvious blubbering, but I went really red, and sniffed a little. I wanted nothing more than to go back to Corona.
That though went on until Spanish. Because I hate Physics too. I did actually find someone to sit with at lunch, which was an unexpected moment of YESSSSS. It was a tad awkward, but I felt better. Then Spanish came, and I realised "Hey, I'm not that rusty!", then Music. Dr. W is just awesome, so yeah.

That first week got better as it went on, though I did break down again on the night of Day 2 at like midnight. I woke up my dad and howled and sobbed about how much I hated TPA and I wanted to go back to Corona. He said "Give it some time". I hate that goddam answer. That should be illegal. Because it's never precise.
He wants me to stay a year. He's bribing me, and I'm accepting. I can't say with what, because I feel bad for accepting it, since it's so awesome, but I'm staying.

Week 2 just ended, and it's been alright. I've found a person to sit with regularly, and once or twice people will come join us, like 2 really nice girls from my class came once, which I appreciated, and another time it was the girl I ate with the first day, and we talked about sports. During this discussion I decided to do Cross Country, followed by Soccer, followed by Track. I'm excited.

I have to go have lunch.

Toodle-oo!

Well I'm off to a bad start.

Well hello there, I'm Callan. I created a blog today so that I could follow a friend of mine.. who also created a blog today. I'm a sheep okay? 

So..

I was creating my profile and um, I did not realise this until I was done, but I failed more than I intended to. 

My name on here is CallanFailsFrequentlally, and I'm not sure how it happened but.. I.. *sigh* forgot the S in fails. 

Frequently in-fucking-deed. 

I don't know how to change it. Whatever, it matches Frequentlally. 

Though it bothers me a tad. I like the frequentlally. I do not like the lack of S on fails. 

So I'm going to blame it all on the fact that it is past midnight and I can't type when my computer is on my stomach. 

Anyway, the reason I'm blogging is not because I have an interesting life, or that I have a lot of spare time (I'll get back to that), but because as I said before, I'm a sheep, and Kaitie's doing it as of today. I like her blog. It's bueno. So yeah, I made one, and I have no idea if I'll ever write another. 

Back to the lack of spare time, I used to have a lot. A LOT. Partially because I just got off summer holidays, and also because the school I was at last year was really easy. I'm no genius, trust me, but it was kind of an idiot school.. not to say there weren't really intelligent people there, but there were a lot of people that.... would be forced to fight in World War 3 War of the Idiots. Because that is going to be necessary. There are too many people in the world, and it's no bueno that there are people out there that just won't be able to work anywhere much nicer than McDonald's. 

Perhaps you're catching on by now that I'm really cynical. And 15 years old. I got it from my mother and father, my grandparents on mother's side, and mother's grandparents (because I don't know who was the spawn of Mapes). Mapes, if you were wondering, was my great grandmother. I've never met her, but I've heard things that make me like her.

Here is an example to prove that I got my cynicism from her: she went to China when she was alive (lol jk no we stuffed her body and took her there) and was helping out all these depraved kids. She wrote in her journal at the bottom of one page "I feel so terrible for all these children, I just wish I could" then you had to turn the page, you know.. expecting her to say something along the lines of "adopt them all, and give them wonderful, happy lives". But no. (and this is why I love her). She said: ".. put them all on a boat, sail them out to the ocean, and sink it to put them out of their misery". 

DO YOU NOT LOVE HER??  

I'm sure it's a terrible thing to think/laugh at these kinds of things, but maybe I'm a bad person. My aim in life is to make money, regardless of how. I would kill babies for $5. Yeah. 

Pray for my soul all you like, it's useless.

In case you hadn't guessed, I'm a strict atheist. And a conservative. And extremely pro-choice. Voting will be difficult.. But I'm 15 so I have time. In fact, the day I turn 18 will during an election year. However, I turn 18 seventeen days too late. Oh well, I don't give a damn who's president as long as they're not fucking everything up. 

But back to a little more of my life. (I get side-tracked easily)

I was born in New York on November 22nd 1994, making me 15 years old. When I was 2, I moved to London, because my dad was a banker and we moved a lot. In fact, my siblings and I were all born on different continents. My sister, who is 25, was born in London, my brother, who is 23, was born in Tokyo, and I was born in Manhattan. But since they're older than me, I've never actually lived in Japan, which makes me sad. But London was awesome, so it's ok. I'll go to Japan someday. (sidenote: I'm not one of those white people that wishes they were asian. I hate people like that. I'm looking at you, E****.) I attended a school called the Lycee Francais Charles de Gaulle de Londres, and if you can't infer from that, I speak French. All the classes were in French, except English (people ask all the time, so I thought I would clear that up). Primary/Elementary school was called Primaire, which I'm going to use instead, so keep that in mind. Once you got to 6th grade, you went into college. Not University-College, but college. University and College are different. Primaire kinda sucked. I mostly had bad teachers, and I was super shy, so I didn't have many (that means any) friends. Except that one creepy kid G********, who will remain creepy for the rest of his life. Once I got into 6th grade, I made a new friend: L***. What a bitch. I mean, we were best friends for like 2 years, but about a quarter of the way through the second year (in 7th grade), she became a stupid butt. She wanted to be older, and she made friends with people (to clarify, we both became friends with them), but then she would like talk shit about me to them so that they wouldn't be friends with me, and then I would have no friends. And thank god I re-met Jenna. We'd sort of known each other for a long time, but never been close. She invited me to sit at her lunch table, at which I met more people! Unfortunately, our lunch hours never coincided, so I had to wait until 8th grade to be in their class. But it was worth the wait. They were the best friends I had ever had, except Alexia, but that's another story. They were funny, and cool, and I just.. blended in. 8th grade was truly the happiest year of my life. But then, as an American, I thought "Maybe I belong even MORE in America!". We moved to Arizona that summer (my parents kinda wanted to as well). I started as a freshman at Corona del Shithole, and thus started one of the worst years in recent memory (I don't remember primaire all that well, or the whole thing with L***-Big-Ass <-also another story). My first day was so awful. Not one single person talked to me, except the teachers, and I cried at lunch, having eaten alone outside the class I had next. But Orchestra, which I had last period, saved my life. I would still be depressed if it weren't for Orchestra. 

Mother actually had to make me take it. I absolutely hated the idea, I assumed it was really geeky and would be a one-way ticket to loserville. No. Orchestra is so awesome. I made most of my friends in that class, and freshman year finally ended. Then I spent the summer seeing my friends from London who I missed so much. I spent 10 days with Alexia, 5 with Jenna, and 5 with Madeleine. Then I came back to Arizona and "helped" at the Juice Factory, which was a smoothie store my friend's older brother owned. Summer '09 was amazing, in other words. 

Then sophomore year started. It was slightly better than freshman year, but I was still kind of devoid of friends outside of Orchestra (I hate that I had different people in different classes.. too many names to learn). I went to Aztectown, during which one of my close non-Orchestra friends revealed herself to be a stupid dramatic lying bitch. I can't say more about the lying part, because that would violate the whole point of Aztectown. To prove her stupidity: we were in History/Geography, and she had difficulty find Russia. And China. To prove her dramatic...-ness: she would spaz about the slightest thing, and got really obsessed with things, like the whole emo trend (she's definitely not emo. no way), and music she doesn't actually like. And she was a bitch because I went shopping with her one time and I was going to try on jeans and I picked my size (3), and she said "no, you're not a 3! you're like a 5! or a 7!". I said "I'm a 3. The jeans I'm wearing are size 3". She, who is most definitely overweight, took the jeans I was holding and said, "Well they're stretchy, so I guess it's fine". Did I mention I'm incapable of being a bitch to someone's face? I just push it all down deep inside. Until now, I suppose. 

Gosh I sound really horrible. I've bitched rather a lot in this. I'll tone it down. By the time you get here, you shouldn't have as much bitchiness. Actually, scratch that, I've only bitched twice, and they deserved it. *glares* 

So. I stopped being friends with her. She made it clear she wanted to be friends, still, but I was like "Bitch, no." (in my head.) Sophomore year automatically became better. 

Then: summer. I went to see Alexia, and I only visited her, because she goes to Tennis Camp every year, so I can't really stay at her house if she's not there. That would be no fun, and awkward, but also because my friends from the Lycee hadn't gotten out of school yet (French schools don't let you out for summer until early July, but you go back in September). That was a shame, but I came back, saw my brother and sister, and saw my friends.

I'm too tired now, but I'll post more tomorrow. It's saturday, so I have nothing else to do. 

Toodles!