So I'm negative

So I've been talking with my therapist lately. She's been telling me that I'm too negative. Well, lemme tell you something.
.
.
You're damn right I'm too negative. That's just me.

First off- I absolutely hate people. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about positive vibes and meditation and having good friends and all that pussy shit, but I just genuinely hate people, aside from everything else. I can't stand large groups. Everybody smells like shit. People don't know how to control their damn volume. Hasn't anybody heard the term "inside voices?" Hasn't anybody heard the term deodorant?! I hate the smell of other people. Even if it's not particularly bad- it just disgusts me.

Hating things just comes naturally to me. If I see something, the first thing I do is try to find out the positive aspects of said thing. However, the problem with that is, finding good things is very difficult for me. If you're my friend, consider yourself a wizard, because it's seriously some sort of black magic that takes place when my brain decides to let me like things. I'm gonna list some things that I like:

-black

-music, specifically grunge, nu metal, progressive death metal, and psychedelic rock

-my like 5 friends

-rain

-trees

-Westport Beach (at any time other than summer, by myself)

-my piano

-sleeping

-carbs

And that's pretty much it. Other than that, I suppose I can find joy in things, but eventually it'll start majorly pissing me off and I'll start to hate it until further notice.

I do like things, I swear. I'm just not good at showing it. I think sometimes it might be somewhat difficult to be able to tell whether or not I like you. Wanna know how I like you? Look- if I talk to you, I like you. It's as simple as that. I don't talk to people who I don't think are worth my time. Sometimes I appear shy in public, but anybody who really knows me knows that on the inside, I'm really just like:

I believe this ego is part of being a negative person at heart. Contrary to your average teenager's view of their own self as a fat ugly monster that nobody will ever love even if, in reality, they're freaking gorgeous, I'm the opposite. I know my own level of intelligence, and if I believe somebody is too severely below that level (unfortunately, meaning about 3/4ths of my generation) they're simply not worth my time. If you think the sun is a sun and not a star or something else of that degree of idiocy, I refuse to look further into your being and you've lost your chance to prove yourself to me as an adequate human being, and I will kindly ask you to stop hogging my oxygen. 

So this has been a rather egotistical post. You know what? Good. I'm feeling bitchy today. Fuck all y'all, I'm a classy lady. Good day.

Core testing? Yeah, f*ck that

As you all know, April will be ending in 3 days. As I'm assuming most of you know, May comes after April. This means that we have about a month left of school. Now, that in itself is both awesome and stressful. It's absolutely great, for obvious reasons. However, it's also kinda shitty because that means I'll have to do shit with my life over the summer. This consists of several things I don't want to do. Getting out of the house to hang out with people so my parents don't physically pick me up by my shirt collar and throw me out of the house to get some fresh air is one of those things. Going outside in hot weather is another one of those things. Staying inside in hot weather is yet another one of those things. Shaving my legs is definitely one of those things.
I hate shaving my legs. I live in a townhouse complex, so we share hot water with like 3 other families. This means I only have about 10 minutes of hot water per shower. I don't have fuckin' time to shave my legs.

One thing I'm particularly dreading is the looming shadow of our last barration of testing in every single class. First off, I'm not the best student ever. My problem is that I don't see the point of going through the whole education system after about 7th grade. When you hit 8th grade, school entirely drops the concept of "learning" and becomes strictly a means of forcing unnecessary discipline upon hormonal, rebellious teenagers. I, personally, think that's a bunch of bullshit.

Not only are we getting stupid amounts of discipline, but it's stressful as fuck too. I mean, I know I'm getting rant-ish, but why do I need to learn about quadratic equations and the structure of a prokaryotic cell, be judged on my knowledge of such bullshit, and then have my life quality determined on how well I can recite said bullshit?

Can you tell that I'm pissed?

Anyway, as for the core tests; I'm gonna fucking fail those. What really sucks ass about that is how much I study for these damn tests. And yet, no matter how much I cram, the geography test is still like "what species of carnivorous, iron-clad martian is located exactly 6,903 meters below the earth's surface?" and the math test is like "count the circumference of every single one of your arm hairs, then with the average of this number, teach a hermit crab how to do the hokey-pokey."

I don't even really know what this post is about anymore, so I'm just gonna rant about stuff that really butters my moustache.

When my hair is all tangled when I get out of the shower. That butters my moustache.

When my sock starts coming off my foot when I'm wearing shoes. That sure does butter my moustache.

When my unibrow starts growing back after I attempt to take care of it. That really butters my moustache.

When my pot dealer laces my weed with street grade cocaine and meth amphetamines. That damn well butters my moustache.

When I get butter in my moustache. That butters my moustache.

I don't know what this post is about anymore...yay!

Why I hate people- 100th post!

Congratulations, self! This is my 100th post on this blog. Thank you all for your passive but apparent obsessions with all my posts, yeah, don't think I can't tell what you people go batshit crazy for.

In celebration of me hitting 100 posts, here's some of the reasons why I despise most humans.
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: I really hate people. I have like ten individuals in the entire world that I can hang out with for more than an hour without wanting to aggressively scrub myself clean afterwards. I'm a huge introvert and I most likely wouldn't have any sort of problem just sitting in my room by myself forever. Don't take any of these reasons as me being all depressing; I personally quite adore my own personality, and writing this post is going to be fun.

Reason #1: My interests differ greatly from the vast majority of America
If you know me, even in the least, you probably know that I am not very good at fitting into my own generation. While everybody else is swagging along, their pants down to their ankles, I'm still extremely emotionally attached to Seether and Nirvana and basically the entire grunge movement. If you try to strike a conversation with me, be prepared to discuss Corey Taylor's penis and such things. And that's exactly the problem. Nobody is prepared for that shit.

Reason #2: I have major social anxiety
I can't be around large groups of people ("large groups of people" being "any number of people") for more than a few hours, tops. I'm only even able to last a few hours if I keep interaction to a minimum, and the only time I expose myself to people for that long is in school. Otherwise, I start flipping my shit. I can't explain why. It's just a thing that happens. Like breathing. Or periods. Basically, in order to keep from being sent to a mental hospital, I spend the majority of my time by myself.

Reason #3: I'm ridiculously sensitive to vibes
Even if I do want to go out one day (which is just about as common as finding a guy with a huge dick who also rubs your back and makes you delicious food) one thing that deters me from doing so is that the outside world is so negative. Think I'm a downer? Try meditating, feeling all happy, then going outside and being able to physically feel the literal cloud of negativity just floating in the air. I wasn't made for this society, with our stupid businesses and stupid everything else. Y'all need to chill.

Reason #4: I'm very awkward
Yeah, I bet you never would've guessed! I'm one of the strangest people on the planet. I tend to make really horrifying faces in any everyday situation and that scares people. But, I mean, that's just how I communicate. I'm also not completely in touch with social norms. I'm a little socially impaired.
Some of the faces I make on a regular basis:

And that, friends, is why I have no friends.

Love is an old dead fish

So according to the, like, one comment on my "March Polls" post, people want me to write about a certain embarrassing moment in my life. Well, here goes.

In 6th grade, I accidentally dropped a dead guppy into the sweatshirt hood of none other than my crush.

As you most likely already know, I'm a very strange person. I've never exactly been prime girlfriend material. I'm really awkward and figuratively stub my toe a lot when it comes to romance; it's just the way I am. And, to top that off, in 6th grade I looked like a shaved baboon with chicken pox. Even with this aesthetic disability, I had a crush on this guy who was more or less on my level of disturbing, mid-pubescent hideosity. Essentially, I had a crush on somebody who was just as ugly and weird as I was, so I actually had a chance with this person.

So we were doing this project towards the end of the year where we were making our own ecosystems out of liter soda bottles, dirt, water, worms, snails, and fish. After a few weeks, when the project was over, most of the fish in the artificial ecosystems had died. It was disgusting, and our science teacher made us clean everything up, including the quickly decaying fish corpses.

When we were cleaning everything, my group elected me as the fish-cadaver-cleaner-upper, probably because I was so awkward and slightly resembled the dead fish. We had 2 fish corpses to throw away, so I put some gloves on and threw away one carcass with no problem. Then came the 2nd one.

This is where shit had hit the fan. I was walking towards the garbage pail, fish corpse in hand, when le crush bumped into me, smiling in all his awkward glory. I think I might've blacked out for a moment because of the sudden legit human contact with somebody who didn't think I was the result of a botched abortion. He turned around to throw away some old dirt, and I kinda leaned over his shoulder to awkward-flirt.

I dropped the fish into his sweatshirt hood.

It was an accident. I was so intoxicated by my pure derpy love for him that I lost my grip on my fish, and it landed right in the hood of his sweatshirt. I didn't say anything, purely out of the fear that he would never talk to me again if he knew that I had put a partially decomposed guppy into his clothing. I almost cried, and I walked away very quickly. Very quickly. 

In 2nd period, he noticed. It was math class, and somebody commented that he reeked of death and diarrhea. Everyone searched all over him to find the source of the stench; everyone except me. I was too scared. What if they could've traced the fish back to me?!

So they finally found the carcass in his sweatshirt hood. A girl who had originally been searching him was gagging and puking for quite a while after that. The crush was flipping the actual fuck out, accusing everyone except me of placing the fish in his daily attire. He never found out that I was the one who ruined his sweatshirt with a deceased fish. In fact, later that year, he became my very first boyfriend. I mean, we broke up after realizing that we did not know how to relationship, but that was a secret I still to this day will never tell him. Except for now.

Old 6th grade crush, I was the one who put that smelly carcass in your sweatshirt hood. Woops.

Inconsistency

As most of you know, I began this blog involuntarily. This blog is an ongoing assignment that began last September for my honors english class. Every week, we're assigned a decent-sized blog post containing a photo, a link, and lots and lots of words pertaining to said photo and link. Now, I do this happily. So happily, in fact, that I began long ago to post on this blog without even being assigned to do so. I guess that's what happens when your school gives you a nice laptop but all the cool websites are blocked; you turn into a work dork and convince yourself that you're having fun, when you're really just subconsciously craving massive quantities of gay fanfiction on tumblr.

Some of these un-assigned posts are actually pretty damn good, examples being my post about periods (which is one of my most popular posts, you sick fucks), and this post about my current life as a band geek. My personal criteria for a "good" post, is the following:

-The post mustn't contain any loads of crap, "loads of crap" being random bullshit paragraphs that I just tend to throw in there during fits of hyperactive madness.

-The post must have at least two paragraphs between pictures. Basically, there must be more words than pictures. I mean, this isn't preschool anymore, this is high school. I know, I'm as depressed about it as you are.

-There must be at least one or two of my own original illustrations. I just feel really accomplished when I illustrate a post. It creates the illusion that I have my shit together.

-The post must be humorous. This blog is technically a creativity blog, but let's be real here; the only reason anybody reads this crap is because I use words like "penis," "fuck," and "cuntnugget" more frequently than I should. Do not follow in my footsteps on the matter. South Park made a whole song about why swearing is bad. Seriously, look up "It's easy, Mkay."

As I was saying, I try my best to write "good" posts as much as possible. However, with my being easily excited and distracted, I write a lot of short cruddy posts too. Like, I have a whole post that's just basically just pictures of Bolbi from Jimmy Neutron. One of my most popular posts of all time is literally no words, just two really creepy illustrations. All you people seem to really like all my posts, crappy or not.

All you people, of course, excluding my english teacher.

TO SAID ENGLISH TEACHER, MY POSTS ARE "INCONSISTENT." 

Apparently, dearest Mr. Parker believes that my posts are inconsistent in regards to quality. I am apparently nut-kicking (that was my own language used right there) my readers outs of decent posts half the time because of the sheer frequency of my "cruddy" posts. Well, mister "I grade all your assignments and I decide your very fate with the possibility that I could force you to fail my class and remediate it over the summer therefor making you unappealing to colleges and ruining your chances of ever getting a decent job in order to support yourself even with the most basic essentials such as 2-ply toilet paper," I will have you know, I am a top-notch example of a teenager with ADD. This assures that I make a bunch of worthless posts, but SO HELP ME, they are still funny. My readers are predominantly other teenagers, and we all have damn short attention spans. Hell, I bet half my viewers aren't even reading this sentence because they only come here to look at the funny pictures which, in my defense, take me a long arse time to complete.

So, english teacher. I encourage you to appreciate all my posts, even the ones I do not submit as assignments, even the ones that are just slightly entertaining screenshots of cartoon characters from the 2000's.

Everyone else, I still hate you for choosing "embarrassing moments" as my next post topic. Go sit in the corner and think about what you've done. Butt faces.

March polls summary

So I put up new polls at the beginning of every month. Last month, I put up two polls. These are the results:

So in regards to the results for "Pick a Favorite," I'm not surprised. I certainly was expecting either titties or a unicorn to win. Honestly, I put "fapping to this blog" as a joke. Two of you still picked it. I mean, I'm flattered, but sweet jesus, you must have some weird fetishes to be able to get off to a high school student's creativity and humor blog.

Now, onto "What should my next post be about."
I hate all of you.
Now I feel obligated to write a post about my most embarrassing moments.

I'm deciding between several moments, because I want to dedicate the post to only one time. Here are the options:

OPTION #1: In first grade when I peed my pants

OPTION #2: The time I made my mom's black friend crash a motorcycle when I was ten

OPTION #3: The time in 6th grade when I accidentally put a dead fish in my crush's sweatshirt hood

There are you guys' choices. Comment what you want me to post.

The struggle is real

So I like to think that I'm a relatively privileged individual. I'm not totally rich, in fact my family is below the poverty line set for Park City (which means my family makes a very sufficient amount of money because Park City is like fucking Atlantis), however, we're still in the middle class. This means, despite my incredibly large amount of luxury and future when compared to the rest of the world, I have fucktons of problems. These problems are the bane of my existence. I wish they would all die. What kind of problems am I talking about, you may be wondering. What I am talking about are the things that haunt our very psyche. They follow us until the day we die. They eat away at our sanity and motivation to live until we are reduced to quivering lumps of skin and tears.

What I am talking about....are first world problems.

What is the deal with first world problems? Why must they haunt us?

Let me recall my first memory of having my own first world problem. I was around three, I believe. I was on my way to tap dance class, and I was hungry. Like, bitchy hungry. I was sitting in the back seat, bitching at my mom that I was really hungry. She kept telling me two things:
Thing #1: I had just eaten a butt ton of eggo pancakes
Thing #2: There was gonna be a huge ass buffet at tap dance practice because it was our last day of class.
I just couldn't wait the 10 minutes down the freeway to get to the dance studio, because the abundance of butter slathered carb-circles apparently wasn't enough for me. I had just eaten, but I was still hungry and I didn't want to wait for my mom to drive me in a 20,000$ car down the well-kept highway to my expensive tap dance practice in order for me to stuff my face with more food.

COMMON FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS:

-I'm hungry, but I'm too lazy to get off the couch and get food.

-My arm is too fat to fit in the Pringles can.

-I kinda want to be a vegetarian but meat is so delicious.

-I'm super comfy in my bed and I want to go to sleep, but I'm too comfy to get out of bed and turn off the lights.

-I just got in bed and now I have to pee.

-I just made a sandwich and realized I'm not that hungry.

-I'm not poor enough to have welfare buy me whatever the fuck I want, but I'm not rich enough to buy myself whatever the fuck I want.

-I ran out of red hair dye so I had to use the blood of my enemies instead.

Oh goodie, illness!

I am rather ill on this fine March day. And, by "rather ill," I mean "You know, I should probably go to a doctor. I'm horrifically sick. This isn't even sickness, this is Satan's own attempt at violently rearranging my vital organs. I can't feel my brain. Mommy?"

That may or may not be a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea. I have some sort of stomach virus shit going on and it is not pleasant, unless you are an emetophiliac. First of all, I hate puke. I hate it. If somebody even mentions that they feel kinda nauseous in front of me, I get the actual fuck out of there. I can't even stand it when my dog pukes, even though she enthusiastically fucking eats it afterwards as if it's some kind of gift from the god of her own innards. So, vomiting uncontrollably for 24 hours is seriously my nightmare. I'm pretty much all out of puke at this point. That kinda sounds like a good thing, but let me share with you the downsides. My whole body aches, I'm shaking like a hairless cat stuffed into a refrigerator, I feel constant urges to brush my teeth, I'm afraid to use my own toilet, and I'm afraid to eat even a god damn salteen cracker because of the lingering possibility that it could bring another onset of vomitapocalypse.

This all started late yesterday morning. I was in english class, and very suddenly, I went from feeling perfectly healthy to having a raging x-caliber headache in about 4 seconds. Now, this usually isn't a problem. It didn't exactly feel like a migraine, so I figured it was just a random headache and that it would pass within the hour. With this logic, I went to my next class (geography) without a problem besides this pain in my skull. This was a mistake on my own part. 

In geography, we were having a counselor come in and give us a 90 minute lecture about registration for next year. This was basically an hour and a half of bullshit. About halfway through this lecture, my headache morphed into a disgusting, throbbing migraine and nausea. I didn't feel comfortable interrupting her though, because she was really into her groove of bullshit and I didn't want to share out loud with the entire class that I needed to throw up. So, I waited for her to make us go on some registration website to excuse myself from the class. I packed up my shit and went to the nurse's office. Hell ensued.

Long story short-ish; I texted my dad to pick me up, he immediately responded saying he was on his way, I spent an hour and a half in the nurse's office vomiting my guts out, the office lady kicked me out and sent me back to class, half an hour later my dad finally showed up and blamed his 2 hour late-ness on a business call and told me I needed to calm the fuck down.

But now, over 24 hours later, I've stopped puking, so now I'm like:

I still feel like shit, but as long as there's nothing being forced out of my esophagus, I'm happy.

Nope-ful situations

I use the word "nope" quite often. Not just as a way to casually reject something. I use it in the internet fashion, and by that, I mean in situations where I just can't. Those situations where you just look at what's happening, frown, spin around 180 degrees, throw your hands up, and go NOPE.

Here are a few examples:

NOPE-FUL SITUATION #1: fucktons of schoolwork

NOPE-FUL SITUATION #2: exercise 

NOPE-FUL SITUATION #3: EATING HEALTHY FOODS

Courtney.exe has crashed. Restart program?

I'm done.
So is everybody else.
Can we just, like, stahp?

For real, it is now March. We've been in school since the middle of August. I don't know about you, but I've just recently hit a wall. A wall of I don't give a fuck. This happens every year. What will happen, is the school year will start. I'll be happy as a mexican jumping bean on a pogo stick in a bouncy house. Then, as the year goes on, the shittiness will slowly but surely intensify. I'll get to a point where I'm just like, "Nope. Fuck ALL the things. I'm gonna flop into bed and watch youtube and do nothing because school is futile." Then I'll walk into school in my pajamas with my hair looking like an afro got hit by a truck. I officially become the least showered, most sarcastic rebel ever. I give so many fucks about not giving fucks, I forget to not give fucks and I start to give fucks about giving fucks. Or somethin'.

However, later in the year, I get to a point where nothing even bothers me anymore. I have nothing to fight. I can't even complain about school. I am no longer a rebel in that I think I don't need school. I just develop this attitude that's like, "Can we just stop? I've pretended to learn everything that I need to succeed in life. If you don't mind, I'll take my high school degree, show it to a bunch of colleges, and then probably burn it in the fiery pits of hell."

I'm beginning to count down the weeks until school ends, even though it's only March. There's 14, including spring break. For now, I'm just going to hide under my blankets and hibernate until summer. Then I'm just going to hibernate more. I mean, that's pretty much the only thing I do voluntarily besides eat and draw and play music.

I'm done with school.
I'm ready for it to be summer.

How to be like me

STEP 1: ONLY WEAR LIKE 3 PIECES OF CLOTHING AND NOTHING ELSE EVER

STEP 2: DRAW/PAINT MORBID, MILDLY TRAUMATIZING IMAGES THAT WOULD GET ANY NORMAL PERSON SENT TO A PSYCHIATRIC UNIT

STEP 3: BE THE WHITEST SHADE THAT HUMAN SKIN COULD POSSIBLY BE WITHOUT BEING CLASSIFIED AS HAVING ALBINISM

STEP 4: HAVE GENETICALLY MUTATED IRISES

STEP 5: HAVE A RELATIVELY ATTRACTIVE SMILE, BUT NEVER ACTUALLY DISPLAY SAID SMILE; ONLY MAKE REALLY ABNORMAL AND TERRIFYING FACIAL EXPRESSIONS NO MATTER THE SITUATION BECAUSE WHO NEEDS FRIENDS, NOT YOU MOTHERFUCKER

"Hmmm, this girl seems pleasant and good-looking"

"OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK"

STEP 6: LOVE YOUR COLLECTION OF MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS MORE THAN YOUR FRIENDS OR FAMILY

STEP 7: LISTEN EXCLUSIVELY TO NU METAL, GRUNGE, DEATH METAL, BLACK METAL, AND...........PSYCHEDELIC ROCK FOR SOME REASON

"They look dirty."

"Aaaaand, nightmares"

"Is that a homeless man?

"That guy seems like the kind of person who rapes and eats puppies"

"Well that sure doesn't look very safe"

"YAY RAINBOWS OMG!"