Chapter 1: A New Start.

"What would my head be like, if not for my shoulders or without your smile...may we stay lost on our way home.  C'mon, c'mon with everything falling down around me, I'd like to believe in all the possibilities..." - Panic! At the Disco & Fun.


2 years earlier...


Wallis: "Mum, I want to go to a regular high school, I'm missing out on all the high school experiences...the stereotypical ones!"
Mum: "Haha, oh Wallis...you have no idea what you're saying!"


No, I didn't...




September 6th, 2011.


I woke up that morning expecting a feeling of nerve-wracking, well...nervousness.  The anxiousness that my 13 year-old self felt at the release of the Twilight movie, absolutely absurd and socially unacceptable with hindsight, but at the time: very goddamn real and exciting.  However, fate was against me and let me go about my morning routine feeling as if it was simply another summer day, until of course it came to the moment where I actually had to get into my car...

I started panicking.  Not Panic! At the Disco-ing, full on panicking.  Here was Wallis, about to set foot into a mysterious unknown place, with nothing to arm herself with, but a bunch of practised lines (yes, the night before I had been practising various introduction lines, as well as different conversation starters...Yahoo! Answers came in handy, I'm a loser. Effyou.).  Nevertheless, I got into the car, and began my perilous journey to my new high school.  But not before I had a good debate with my mother and sister about what time my school started at, (notice it's MY school), in the end I was right, 8:10AM.


(Picture of argument with mother and sister in car)


We got to the school eventually.  The drive there seemed too short, and for some reason I could only hear a pounding, as if someone was banging on the inside of my skull...oh wait, that was my erratic heartbeat, threatening to end my existence at any moment (I'm not a drama queen, shush).  When we drove into the school parking lot, I saw a sea, no (I looked up "vaster than the sea" and it came up with http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5837344/1/Vaster_than_the_Sea_Wider_than_the_Sky) it's still a sea of teenagers.  ALL TYPES OF TEENAGERS. My heart began to sing...a rather strangled melody, on one hand: PEOPLE TO TALK TO, ADVENTURES, on the other: HOLY SHIT. OTHER HUMANS o.O WHAZDAT. 

The over-sized, Aeripostale/Abercrombie wearing jock-men-boychildren who go around shouting, declaring that their not a nobody.  They are all far too patriotic about their school.  They also never seem to never have their phones on them, near their crotch. It's so bloody weird.

This octopus represents all the Grade 9's.  They're just babies to me, so I haven't given them any definite features (trolol).  But there are millions of them all over the school, and they're loud and not clothed enough and care far too much about their enormousness non-existent egos. And apparently, I blend in with them too well. Bastards.

Here we have the bodacious, not-clothed-enough-but-it's-like-winter-outside hordes of girls.  Who all have feathers in their hair.  On some of them it looks wicked, but on some it looks like they've been rolling around in a chicken coop, I'm sorry, that's so mean. GO GET 'EM GIRLS! And put on more clothes.  Also: they have an extra appendage: their phones.

Here we have a bad example of one of the smoker kids, that lurk outside of the school in the parking lot, and generally these are the kids I see making out in the hallways with their girlfriends...awkward...bro.

Then you've got your kinda Average Janes', who wear appropriate clothing, but are still...mainstream?

There many other groups of teenagers, but to be honest, I can't scan any more picture without going insane.


My mum sent me to face my fate with, "Have a good day, love! See you at 2:30!" But I wasn't really paying attention as I pushed open the school door and wandered into the main hall where hordes of students greeting each other were, and went looking for the sheet posted on the walls with my name on it, telling me where to go.  Oh how there were so many sheets...and how many kids...ah...actually I knew where I had to go, and so checking the sheet was just a precaution, so I found the first stairwell I could and climbed up them to the second floor in search of Room 232.




I found it, but it turned out that my class was actually two more rooms down, in Room 234.  While on my journey to my classroom, I stumbled across three couples sucking each other's faces off in little nooks and crannies of the hallways of the school.  The first one I saw, took me off guard and when I saw them my facial expression was one of complete horror, and I shouted, "JESUSCHRISTYOUCRAZYBASTARDS!" ...they looked rather hurt, as well as if they wanted to beat my little asian face to a pulp.  Black eye to my first class? A few missing teeth? I would've really set a fashion trend, eh? 

Room 234. I walked in. The first thing I saw was a ginger kid, bless his soul, he blinded me with his gingerness, and it was wonderful.  This was because I couldn't focus on the other faces that were suddenly scrutinising my scrunched up face (I had to shield my eyes from the glare, not an anecdote, pure truth).  There was a distinct lapse of silence as I entered the room, but it soon ended and I trolled up to meet my first teacher: Mrs. Koekebakker. I kid you not, that is her name, pronounced: KOO-KUHH-BAHH-KERR.  Now, I don't mean to be offensive (I'm serious, I don't...I'm not being silly), but come ON. KOEKEBAKKER? Out of all the names I could have been faced with, I got Koekebakker.  How am I meant to be composed when I have to introduce myself to her, I had to stifle back the laughter.  I am in love with her name, but furthermore, she is very reminiscent of my old Biology teacher.  


A little thought, do teachers of the same subject across the globe, get in contact with one another and coordinate outfits? Because I swear, ALL science teachers wear the same thing (except for my old Physics teacher, because she really wasn't a "teacher" she was more of a "ruler of the chilren", if that makes sense), ALL history teachers where the same thing, ALL english teachers where the same things....etc.  Just...it blows my mind.

Anyhow, I introduced myself to her, and she was very welcoming and obviously a kindred spirit, bless her cute little face. (I'm not creepin', just statin' the facts, hater.)  She gave me a once over look, and I stood there awkwardly clutching my lunchbox, two binders, and backpack trying to find a position that made me seem taller...but I don't think I fooled her.  Anyhow, I took my seat afterwards and shoved all my stuff in the little basket underneath my desk. My desk is situated in front of a kid called Graham. Graham seems the brooding type, and I don't say this to be melodramatic.  He is about 3x larger than me (in height, he's not fat...that sounds so blunt, damn my innability to write), and is just a surly character.  He didn't seem to like my arrival, and did not talk to me, and just seemed to glare at me.  So, to Graham, I apologize for existence.  (He still doesn't seem to like me, even now...two weeks after I've been there...maybe I should say "Hi"...but then again, I'd rather not have him shoot me down...oh the fear!).

Anyhow, more kids filtered in, and one of them, a girl, introduced herself to me. Ève (pronounced: ehh-vvveeee).  She is a sweetheart, ^^ Anyways, she introduced herself and I introduced myself, "Hi, I'm Wallis."  I realized that my voice sounded stupid. I'm not being petty, it legitimately sounded as if I hadn't used it for about 4 months, so now the kids there were probably under the assumption that people from "the island" sound like wild beasts or something, I'm SORRY, BDA! <3  Everyone was staring at me, not even being subtle about it either, just full on staring and talking to their friends.  I felt violated to be honest, these kids were stripping me with their EYES. I WASN'T WEARING MY PRETTY BRA THAT DAY EITHER, SO BLAAAHHHH.


Then the bell rang.  The Canadian anthem began playing over the P.A. system.  Now I'm going to jump to present day for a moment.  The school I'm at actually has about 200 different versions of the Canadian anthem, and I. think. it's. marvelous.  Not to mention highly entertaining.  I don't know how everyone can even keep a straight face and not piss themselves laughing when the scatting jazz one starts playing...I certainly have had tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes, and my face turn red from the pressure of not laughing on more than one occasion.  I'm probably going to Canadian hell for this...O.o BACK TO THE STORY.
The P.A. system also has announcements and one of them starts with, "DID SOMEONE SAY FREE FOOD? WELL NOW THAT WE'VE GOT YOUR ATTENTION, THERE'S GOING TO BE FREE OATMEAL IN THE CA...." at that point I lose focus, because I'm trying to figure out who said there was free food to begin with.  THEY LIE I TELL YOU. THEY LIE.


After announcements, Mrs. Koek- okay, we're calling her Mrs. K.  Mrs. K gave the typical "Welcome Back" spiel, and gave out handouts and also told us to come up to her desk, give her our locker combination (poky people...) and our locker number.  At this point, I began freaking out because I hadn't found a locker (obvious from the fact that I was the only kid toting around my school belongings with me).  To put your heart at ease though, I will tell you right now, that I found a locker at lunch: 2551, in the Grade 9 Hall/Ex-prep Hallway (more about these named hallways later though, cupcake ;D).  Then she gave us a Biology game to play, where we had to go around the class and ask different people one of the questions listed on the sheet, and we had to have a different person for each answer.  


Talking to people? People my own age? ABOUT BIOLOGY? Oh bloody hell.  So I put on my big girl pant(ies) (because I'm sure I was about to piss myself with how nervous I was...I'm so ladylike, shut up.) and began this perilous task, but not before I read the biology questions.  I realized two things:


1) I didn't know what half the questions were (what the hell is a ribosome? Or a hufflepuff for that matter?)
2) Everyone else would know, and I would be marked as a dumb kid. A dumb asian kid.  Dishonouring my family name, tarnishing it with my lack of knowledge.


I'll skip to the key part: I did it.  I got people to write down answers, and I answered other peoples'.  Not all my answers were right...but I still did it.  I didn't give Graham any answers...(y'know, he's probably a really nice guy, and I'm just being stupid. Probably.)


Then Mrs. K was like, "RIGHT. FOR OUR BIOLOGY CLASS TODAY, TOMORROW AND THE NEXT DAY, WE'RE GOING TO WATCH THE BUCKET LIST AND MAKE OUR OWN! YAY!" ... is this seriously IB? What the hell?


Then I had Drama Class. I like my teacher. She's like a blonde version of my old Drama teacher, but a bit more...bubbly? Huh.  I'm not going to go into great deal about Dr...I mean: DRAYMA (that's how they pronounce it, sickos...and bagels...bahgehls....eff.)


Then came lunch.  Now firstly, I'd like to voice a complaint (I'm good at that.) 


lunch  (lnch)

n.

1. A meal eaten at midday.

2. The food provided for a midday meal.

intr.v. lunched, lunch·ing, lunch·es

To eat a midday meal.

Idiom:

out to lunch Slang

Not in touch with the real world; crazy.




Lunch is a meal eaten in the middle of the day.  MIDDAY.  At my school, lunch starts at 10:45AM.  WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THIS. AND: it ends at 11:30AM. IT ENDS EVEN BEFORE MIDDAY IS THERE. WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THIS?!!???  I think Canada has a skewed sense of time...or hunger...


I leached onto Eve and her crew of friends, and they let me sit with them for lunch and then took my on 5 minute tour of the school, and showed me different places (I will also include other places that I was shown at a later date, just for your benefit.  Feel lucky and loved.)  


(Picture of different hallways)


They gave me tips on different cliques, and so forth.  All very useful in the long run I suppose, when I'm a social butterfly...right now, I'm more of a social speck of dust.

Then came English.  And Mr. Jackson.


(I will do a drawing of him sometime, remind me)


He is the most passionate English teacher I have ever met, frankly, the most passionate teacher I've ever met.  He's just such a bro.  He's so thin and wiry, and you could probably beat him down with a *pap-pap*, but I swear get on his bad side, and he could ribbon you into shreds with his words.  He's just a bro, man! SO KNOWLEDGEABLE. AHHH. I WANT TO BE LIKE HIM WHEN I'M OLDER.  I may just devote a blog post to one of his classes one day (yeah, I kinda idolize him I suppose..hmm).  English was the only class that day that we hadn't spent going over the course outlines, we just simply did an assignment he set us, and it was GREAT.  I sound like some studious freakazoid. WE ALL KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE. ;)


Then History.  My last lesson of the day, with the most sarcastic, straight-forward, hilarious, boss woman teacher: Mrs. Mathews.  She is very sarcastic and witty like I stated in the previous sentence, and it works.  History this year shall be wonderful I think.  We started off with just information sheets in History (and in all the other classes).  There is also a Grade 12 that just appeared in our History class, and has been there ever since...he's meant to be in German class...but...he's just ALWAYS in our History classes.  He's a hippie-ish character, that wears billowy woven shirts, scarves, bow-ties, and sandals.  His name...Huckleberry. <3 He pretty much blew my mind away, and ever since I've kinda just been fascinated by his flamboyant, happy self ^^ He also knows AVPM/S...so...well...<3


The school bell rang at 2:30PM and suddenly I felt like I was floating, almost like I had been holding my breath.  I practically ran out of class and ran into my awaiting car (No, I'm not taking the bus, screw you!).  


My mum asked, "How was your first day?" with a huge smile of encouragement.  


All I could say in reply was, "I'm living in a high school movie."

*Update: A few days later, I had a massive breakdown because I had been reminded of home so much that day and wasn't coping very well.  However, now I'm beginning to feel a bit differently.  It's like I've gotten the chance to live a new life, if you will, cliché as it may seem.  It's been two weeks of school, and tomorrow morning shall mark the start of the third week, and somehow: I'm still alive.  So try as hard as you like, Canada stereotyped world of Wallis, phase this? I THINK NOT.






Brendon Urie's engagement announcement, has just kinda sealed off the previous chapter of my life.  So, bring out a flask of butterbeer, cheers to poise and rationality! (Morgan, I'm sorry this took so long <3)

My life is over.

Brendon Urie is engaged?

Do some work.

Right: I'm making that blog post sometime today. I promise. I PROMISE.

Meanwhile...hehe, look what I've been doing instead of hmwk:

http://cheezburger.com/View/5213060608

Or even better, here's the actual picshur...

And it's online ;D Steppin' up my game people.

Das all.

Legitimately soory (like full on Canadian style)

Read the title. It pretty much summed it all up.

I'm a terrible procrastinator, and I know I've been meaning to do a summary (dear god, I typed a "c" instead of an "s"...does that even exist? What would that even mean? Is that like some kind of slang that I've invented...? A description of a person's previous night's hoohah org....?) of my first day/second day/first week/thatkindabullpoopie.  See? Totally just pondered that and got distracted. Ew.

Just the onslaught/avalanche of work that I've received, has kinda been making me put off writing the post. As well as other distractions, namely: the Internet.  I've recently been a victim of "StumbleUpon", which I've been avoiding because it'll add to my procrastination...

Enough. Eff. Look the point is: I'll write the summary soon. Okay? STOP YELLING AT ME, I'M TRYING MY BESTTTT D:

I just put off ending this post by reading tons of "Y U NO" guy memes. *sigh*

SOON. I PROMISE.

Starting over.

Tomorrow. Big day. September 6th, 2011. Damn, I never thought it'd be here this soon.

School.

I'm not even going to bother with a long blog post because I have to do very important thing s to get ready for tomorrow (I'm lying, I have to paint my nails and prepare fruits.)

I've just packed all my things away in this little black backpack:

I'm setting myself up for disaster, the straps on this satchel-bag thing, are probably going t break the minute I get out my car.  Oh yeah, did I tell you? After this week I'm most likely going to be taking the bus to school.  Most people might view the school bus as:

I see any form of school bus as:

So guess who's not taking the bus anytime soon? Haha, me. Lawl.

Speaking of LOTR related things (we were of course), tonight requires some special kind of KABOOM to help me build courage for tomorrow, so I'm watching The Return of the King.  It should work. I mean, hopefully Eowyn or Aragorn will inspire me somehow to conquer all the nevousness of tomorrow.  

This blog post is going to suck so badly, because I'm trying to do so many other things at the same time. 

Also:

 WTF IS THIS?

I haven't used a lock since...well, I've never really used a lock because 1) There were no major thieves...oh wait, well that's a bit of a lie, money stolen and whatnot, but still...no MAJOR THIEVES 2) I had zilch for them to steal anyways. I mean, unless you wanted messy notes on bloody metaphors that English teachers seem to find in passages of books that don't actually exist (the metaphors don't exist, not the books...that sentence was phrased awkwardly). Bah.

So now, I'm a bit stumped. I've just watched three videos of people opening these monsters with alarming speed, and I'm struggling to press down on the lock to rotate it. Switching binders between classes will be fuuuuuuuun.  

Despite this lock/locker situation, I'm kind of excited for tomorrow. I mean, ADVENTURE TIME!

I really dislike that show, bad memories attached to it...anyhow: YEAHHH. I'm going to stop here, and save the rest of my energy for tomorrow so I CAN TELL YOU (who are youuu?) ALL ABOUT MY DAY. Hahahahaha. Right. 

Hurrah for now.

Captain. x

PS: I've been working on introduction lines...

"Hey, can I be the Captain of your ship?"

"SALVE, MEA POLLA! EGO SUM CAECILIUS, BIYATTCH"

"Aragorn, is he sexy or what?"

"No. Bitch, I aink in Grade 9"

"Hi, ever heard of Michael Caine? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFIQIpC5_wY ) Credits to Connor"

"Did you cry when Snape died?"

"Hey, I'm short, can you help me open my locker and lock?"

"The end of HP? What's up with that?"

"Do I have to do P.E.?"

"I'm wearing plaid, I'm so not-foreign!"

"LOVE ME?"

I'm still toying with the idea of your classic, "Hey, hello,hi". That's SOOOOO mainstream. Haha. Night, silly people.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwww. Seriously, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

It seems like all I do is complain. I'm sorry, it's just that I will not lie and tell you fuzzy-pink-peach stories about how unicorns came down from Nutella city and gave me a Captain's hat. I won't.

However, I must add that Blogger knows me so well that it set up my font for me and e'erytinnggggg. Pure. Straight. Kool.

Anyways, today was not good. Not even vaguely bearable. It was awful. I CANNOT STRESS THIS POINT ENOUGH.

Why? Because my mother was a-freakin' out on me about everything.

It really started with the visit to school to get my schedule early, and scope out the rooms I'm in for classes, because to be honest: I do not want to be the lost noob that has to be guided around by someone who's going to try and "get to know me" in the first 10 minutes of my arrival. That's bullpoopie, and I will not be subjected to it.  ANYHOO, I was nervous. EFF, who wouldn't be? But mother started getting all, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHY SO NEGATIVE FOR?" And admittedly she had a point, but STILL. D: I'm trying.

Then I applied for another job today, at the bulk store. So I traipsed on home, and...the printer...the NEW printer wasn't working. AND GUESS WHO GOT THE BLAME? No, seriously, I bet you couldn't guess. Oh wait, did you say "Wallis"? WELL WHOOPDEEDOODAH, WE HAVE A SMART-ALEC IN OUR PRESENCE LADIES AND GENTLEMAN (because Nick's the only guy that reads this crap, singular tense, mofo.), YOU'VE JUST WON YOURSELF A CHANCE TO READ THE REST OF THIS BLOG POST. (I'm sorry, I'm so angry. It hurts.) Lots of arguing about the printer, and how I was really to blame and blahblahblahblahblah. And so forth, but then it began veering off on the stereotypical teen-parent argument, the "YOU DON'T DO ENOUGH AROUND HERE. YOU DON'T HELP OUT." And when I tried to explain:



Okay, that's not completely accurate. But still, mum does have a point and whatnot, but still...as a teenager: I WILL RETALIATE.

After this argument, I found myself cleaning the linen closet, trying to make amends with my mother. And just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse...it did.


The closet is about 8 feet tall (at least to me.), so naturally I couldn't reach the top to clean it. Thus, I took out my step ladder and climbed pon it and started groping (groping? Really...great verb choice Wallis) around in the dark top shelf of this bloody linen closet.

My hand touched a box.

Now: WHEN YOU HAVE JUST MOVED INTO A HOUSE, AND YOU DISCOVER A MYSTERIOUS TINY BOX, YOU WILL NATURALLY THINK: "OHAI LOOK, A MYSTERIOUS TINY BOX. IT MUST BE MAGICAL. OPEEEENN". THIS. IS. A. MISCONCEPTION. But, alas, I am a titshit.

I took out the box, refused to read the label on the front and opened it...this is what I found.

That's right. It was dentures. And old woman's dentures, and when I opened the box, her nasty denture juice (I'm crying while writing this) flew onto my hand. I screamed, closed the box, and somehow managed to push open a window with my knee and chuck them things out. I FEEL SO DAMN VIOLATED, YOU HAVE NO BLOODY IDEA. D: I am so scarred, it was more scarring than seeing this:

OHHOLYMUFFINGOD. D: WHAT IS THAT? 

After much disinfection (I think I've scraped off at least 45 layers of skin with a scrubbing brush and dishwasher soap), having my Mum come and save me by thoroughly disposing of those things, and much reassurance that I have not contracted some disease from those dentures, I have decided to forgive the old lady who left those things there to kill me. It's okay, I forgive you. We all make mistakes. I learned that today. My mum has almost forgiven me. ^^  

BUT. TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE LEFT THEIR HABITABLE CAVES: TAKE YOUR NASTY-ASS CRAP WITH YOU. I know that I will never be the same again. Ever. 

This is the end. I am far too tired.

The (emotionally, mentally, physically destroyed) Captain.


ALSO watched Pirates 3 again tonight, aaaaaahhhh <3



FOUND THIS. AAAHHH <3

WHY WOULD YOU CHALLENGE ME LIKE THIS?

I'm shocked. Truly. Blogger, I expected something like this from Facebook, not from you. How could you...HOW COULD YOU JUST CHANGE LIKE THIS?

You know when some internet whizmogizmositething, tells you how its "updated itself", become "smoother, faster" and "more efficient", like it's some first-class floozy? And then offers you the chance to "try it out"? Most people know that with things like Facebook, this is a terrible thing, and avoid it.  Thus, you avoid other things asking you to update. 

Blogger did this to me. And I said yes.

AND NOW LOOK AT ME? I WAS TYPING THIS BLOG POST IN THIS SETTING ASKING YOU TO MAKE A NEW BLOG ANDITWASHORRIBLEBEACUSEITWASTHEWRONGBUTTONANDTHENITTOLDMETHATINEEDEDTOOPENANEWWINDOWANDALLTHIS RANDOMSHIZZERANDICAN'TEVENDEALLLLLLLL.

sigh.

This week has been...meh. Not great, at all.  Monday, I put a load of laundry into the washing machine then dryer...I DYED SO MANY CLOTHES DIFFERENT COLOURS AND MUM GOT MAD AT MEEEEEE D: Tuesday, Nijmeh left me. Alone. I'm so depressed.

Today...

I woke up at 11am. Now generally, I am awoken by the sounds of my family making ungodly "sorting out the house, because we just moved" noises and it's bloody annoying. However, today I woke up due to the fact that there were no noises. O.o I was so disoriented, because the light filtering into my room was shitty, and so I tripped over all the cables, and my Harry Potter book and fell right into my bedroom door...nose-first.

I JUST GOT MY NOSE PIERCED, AND IT HURT LIKE A MOTHEREFFINGBALLOONANIMAL. LALSDJFASDFJASDF.

Anyways, I searched around the house calling out like a wounded animal, "MUUUUUUMM, SISTTTTTEERRR? ANYBODDDYYYPLEAASSEEE?" Still, no noise. Then I put a load of laundry in the washing machine. Anyways, in the end, I ended up on lying, no, DYING on my stairs determined that they had abandoned me, when the garage door opened and my sister popped her head in and said,

"What are you doing?"
"HOLY GOD, YOU'RE ALIVE. WHERE WERE YOU? DID YOU HEAR ME CALLING? I MISSED YOU!"
"We were in the garage, silly."
"ADSFJADSF. DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME CALLING?"
"Yeah."
"...I was hurt."
"Oh...Mum wanted you to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Bye"

What the hell.

And then...we decided to go wandering about town, buying...things, I don't even remember. I remember buying pencils for school...and paint. Hm.

When we got home, Mum was like, "OHHH RIGHT. I NEED TO RETURN THIS." So I went to go start Appa again (Appa is my car. True story.).  So I went out to go start the car, and had my eyes burned out.

As I start the car, I turn around and see this teenage couple sucking face. Violently...



Not like that, because if I had seen this, I would have been lawling. But anyways, they were like violently attacking each others faces and groping each other...because nothing says "I love you", more than sucking the face of your S.O. off, leaving them blind forever, and exposing their non-virginious bodies to the innocent eyes of the children in this world, or in this case: me.

The worst part of this was the fact that they were doing this: ON MY SIDEWALK. THE NERVE OF THOSE ICKFACES. And the fact that I said something...

*Couple vacuuming each others faces off*

Wallis turns and sees them, shouts: "EW. YOU FILTHY WHORES!"

The couple heard me. I kinda clapped my hand over my mouth, said, "Go about your business, friends" and went into the car. Blargh. They continued for a moment, and then saw me glaring at them from the car window and left to the park. THE PARK. WHERE INNOCENT CHILDREN PLAY...OR IN THIS CASE, I PLAY. BASTARDDDDDS.

Anyways: later tonight, for the dinner that I wanted to nom, I needed crackers, and Mum was all, "YEAH. LET'S GO GETTEM" and we drove to the grocery. I went in, picked up a box of 'em. Bought 'em. Walked out feeling like an adult (I dunno why), got in the car, and then it all went to shit.

Mum began shouting at me, "WHAT ARE THOSE?"
"Wh...crackers?"
"DID I TELL YOU TO GET THAT BOX?"
"Wh...yeah? These...these are crackers!"
"WALLIS. I TOLD YOU TO GET THE LARGE BOX!"
"Is this, is this not the LARGE BOX? It's bigg-"
"GO GET THE BIG BOX, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I TOLD YOU TO GO AND GET THE BIG BOX! YOU DON'T LISTEN! WHAT THE -"
"OKAY."

SO, I went in. Stood for like 15 minutes at the customer service desk for someone to help me, BECAUSE NO ONE WORKS THERE AT THIS HOUR. The lady who finally came thought I DIDN'T SPEAK ENGLISH, when I CLEARLY SAID, "I would like to exchange this box, for this one." She was all, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish, but I can call Pam from down.." I looked at her and just said, "Look. Give me this box of crackers. I don't want this one. Hablo ingles." I hate ignorant assholes who stop me from buying crackers.

In the end I bought them.

Just now, I was trying to put the trash out on the sidewalk (where those douchetits were makin' out), and was approached by a kid (well, he was significantly older than me...but, still. KID.) who was walking his dog, and beatboxing.  He saw me and kinda danced over, beatboxing, and rapped to his dog, "YO DOG, SIDDOWWWNNN. SIDDOWN, DOG, DOG, DOG"...the dog did not sit. But the kid began talki-sorry, rapping to me, "Yo, I see you gots some trash there!" (starts beatboxing).  Wallis, "Ur, yeah. Trash day tomorrow. You're good at beatboxing." (BEATBOXES EVEN LOUDER, stops as Wallis begins to walk inside) "GIRL, WHERE YOU GOIN'? YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL ME YOUR NAME? BROOOOOO, DOGGGG SIDDOWN SIDDOWWWWNN" sigh At this point, I hadn't eaten my crackers yet, and wanted to go inside so I said, "Your dog looks antsy. Maybe I'll catch you later. Bye"

And so he beatboxed away.

I'm going to blame my whole "melodramaticness", on the fact that I'm really rather lonely and kinda sad.  I met someone from my school today, her name's Casi and she's really nice, and works at Canadian Tire. ^^ She had cool hair and knew about paint. AWESOME.

Oh: I had my first piano lesson today, well here...it was so painful. I feel bad for the old lady teaching me.

Oh and: Tim Horton's and McDonalds' haven't replied. No one wants meeeeee.

So: someone please save me. Okay?

This is so long...