TEE HEE. NEW BLOG. CLICK HERE, BITCHES.

TEE HEE. NEW BLOG. CLICK HERE, BITCHES.

Today SUCKED.

Our bus was about 20 minutes late today. You might think that's no big deal, but it IS. We had to wait in FOUR DEGREE WEATHER. This one guy at my bus stop said really loud, "Dude, I don't know about you, but after this I'm gonna jack off; my fuckin' balls are frozen." This phrase just displays the pervertedness of today's youth. It sickens me.

Anyway, blah blah blah, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th hour went by quickly. In 6th hour, I got a pass to go down to the office. I was so scared and nervous. If I get one more detention, then I'm expelled. My heart was beating like crazy, my hands were sweaty, and I had to pee. I was so nervous.

Then I stepped into Mr. Schulz's office. I got even more scared since there is a TV in his room that displays all the footage from the cameras in our school.

"Hey, there," he said. "Take a seat."

I did as I was told, for fear of being murdered by the principal.

"Now, your bus driver told me that you were using some language on the bus," he started. "Did he talk to you about it?"

"No," I said softly.

"Well, I recieved a complaint that you called someone a "fat eff". Is that true?"

"Of course not," I said. I'm such a liar.

The bell rang.

THANK BUDDHA! I could finally leave.

I'm am terribly sorry for the lack of updates, but lick my figurative balls. TEE HEE!!!!

Anyhoo, today was the worst day ever. Twenty-four years ago today, John Lennon was shot and killed by Mark David Chapman, a crazed fan.

I wore all black today to pay homage to this fallen Beatle. Seriously, I cried 2 times in 2nd hour (math) and all through 3rd hour (social studies). On the white board in S.S., I wrote a little tribute to him, and it read "John Lennon Rest In Peace: 1940-1980". But the most devastating thing that happened during that hour was when Ryan (a stupid asshole who called me a "fucking Jew") said, "John Lennon's dead? Cool!" Right there, I just broke down and bawled, not caring who saw me. My teacher offered to send me down the school counselor, but I said I was alright (not). I also hit my throat on something somehow, so I was coughing up blood.  

I was equally amazed and stupidified at how incredibly dim-witted my classmates are. This one girl named Katie who has the most annoying voice in the world, shouted "Who's John Lennon?" (I cried some more) and my teacher finally enlightened her about this mystery man and told her he was in the Beatles. At least there's one intelligent person in my class.

In 4th hour (gym), while we were playing volleyball, I told my gym teacher that I was coughing up blood, so he sent me to the nurse's office.Tee hee! I just went into the lockerroom and cried some more.

5th hour (science) was very emotional. Everytime I looked at my nifty Beatles purse, I just cried when I saw John's sweet face. In 6th hour (English), when we were reading some gay book, I saw the word "lemon" and even that made me cry. I cried on the bus ride home, I cried when I got home, I cried when I lit a candle for John, and I'nm crying right now.

But I seriously think that his spirit was very prevalent today. Maybe it was just a scary coincedince.

*I woke up from a dream about John at FIVE O'CLOCK exactly this WEDNESDAY morning (this refers to a line in the song "She's Leaving Home"-Wednesday morning at fiiiiive o'clock as the day begins...) 

*His death anniversary was on the local news (okay, maybe this isn't a coincedince, but what the hell)

*This guy named John who I like started being really nice to me

*The lottery ticket that I bought (I have connections, don't ask) won me $10.00

*The detention I got on Monday for calling someone a "paraplegic" in social studies was terminated because of my "severe emotional state at the moment"

These simple happenings might not mean anything, but I really think that his spirit is around us...

John Lennon, where ever you are, I hope that your soul spends an eternity in Heaven.

I love you.

John Winston Lennon

October 9th, 1940 - December 8th, 1980

After I was picked up by my grand-folks, we went back to their house to prepare for this party that my relative, Lubya, was having. Da dee da dee da, we get ready, drive to their house. Now we come to the fun part. Their driveway is like a rollercoaster, because its at about a 45 degree angle. Now, my grandparents being Russian AND being in their new Mercedes-Benz (plus it was dark outside), were afraid of damaging their beautiful new car, but they got up without any problem. Getting back DOWN, well, that I'll talk about later.

Anyway, Lubya and Edward's (thats her husband) oldest son, Alex, was over with his wife Laura and their 11 month-old daughter named Oksana, and everyone was gushing about how cute she was blah blah BLAH.

We sat down at the dinner table, I over-ate, and I went downstairs in the basement to watch TV. I scanned through the channels, but there was nothing on. Lubya and Edward are pretty high-tech, since Lubya is a computer hardware specialist and Edward is an electrician. There are at least five computers in their house, and they have a big-ass TV in the basement. I was planning on playing Xbox down there, but Lubya's other son, Felix, took all the DVD's and the Xbox with him to college. DAMMIT!

I finally settled to watch CNN, because there was this thing on it about a woman who literally can't live without marijuana, so this proved to be entertaining. After that was over, I scanned some more and watched Doctor Dolittle. Fun.

About half an hour into my exciting escapade, Laura walked into the TV room and sat down next to me, watching TV. I had no idea why, but I just sat there and watched Dolittle, restraining myself from laughing so I didn't make a bad impression on Laura. Twenty minutes later, Laura left to tend to the baby. Yay. I could finally let out all of my loud, rude laughs.

Well, watching TV got very boring, so I went upstairs to see that everyone was on dessert. Since I was about to explode, I didn't even think about touching the "delicious-looking" cream cheese, walnut, and strawberry jello cake that Lubya had prepared. Eww. 

After a few minutes, I got severely bored and went into their office. There I found this thing I had been building out of Legos for the last three years. I'm a sucker for plastic building blocks. I was building the bachelor pad of a secret agent, complete with lasers, force fields, a bunch of other doo-dads, and of course, the bachelor pad can move by way of hovering. Duh!

Got bored with that too, so I decided to snoop around the office. I found out that Edward is a life member of the "Minnesota Fishing Club", and he likes to collect magnifying glasses and samurai swords. Stellar. I surfed the web on their comp, and I went to one of my favourite sites, JewishHigh.com. It is awesome. I looked in the closet and found a guitar and a balalaika (a Russian guitar-like instrument with a triangular body and 3 strings), which I tried to play, but with my lack of guitar-playing knowledge, I gave up.

Went back into the dining room, and challenged my grandpa to chess, which I won with much help from Edward, who was mildly drunk. I challenged him to chess, too, and he won. This just proves that everyone is better than me at chess, including intoxicated middle-aged Russian men. Yes.

Played Edward in chess again, and yes, he beat me. Their dog Tiger, a great dane, who is gigantic by the way, started barking and howling, Edward had to activate the shock collar on Tiger to make him shut up. Blah dee blah dee blah, said our goodbyes, left by about 11.30, filled the Benz with gas, and went to muh grand's house. My parents, who were at the wedding of Igor and Natasha (read http://beatleslover.bravejournal.com/entry/7068), were supposed to PICK ME UP, but they did not so I ended up spending the night here. When I woke up, I was uber pissed, so I called them and yelled "WHY DIDN'T YOU PICK ME UP? WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!" then I hung up. Tee hee!

Ate a modest Russian breakfast of a cheese sandwich, pickle, fried sausage, and tea. Now I'm here typing away, spilling out my guts to you guys.

How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood? 

Cheers.

Well, here I am at the Ridgedale Library, after a day of shopping. Let me tell you about my day. Hey, you in the corner! Listen up, or get the fuck out of my blog!

My grandparents dropped me off at the library in their brand-new Mercedes SUV. I did my homework at the library, scanned a few rare Beatles pictures from a book (so I can make a collage and put it on the ceiling), then I took my laptop and all my other crap with me, to the adjacent Ridgedale Mall. My grandma had given me $100.00 as a gift, so I went wild. First, I went to Prints Plus and bought another Beatles poster, for there is an empty space on my wall that I wish to fill. Then I went to this T-shirt store and bought a really cool Beatles tee. Next, I went to Sam Goody and bought what I have wanted ever since it came out this February: The Beatles First U.S. Visit. I was hungry for something other than photographs, I wanted to see them actually do something. So, yeah,

I then went to Subway and treated myself to a Veggie Delight sub and some chips. WOO HOO!

Well that is all for my exciting binge at the mall, ta ta!

Well, I bet you can tell by the title, my T-day was anything but normal. I was going to post an entry about it last night, but I came home kind of late and my mom wouldn't let me go on the comp.

I went to my friend's house for T-Day. The food was good, but there was too much alcohol. My dad got drunk, my friend's uncle was hitting on my MOM, and my stupid little cousin tried to pants me, but he failed miserably. (I pants-ed him. Tee hee!)

That Beatles commerical was on again. I never get tired of it. Now thats *five* times I've seen it, and counting.

Life is good.

Woo...talk about adrenalin. This happened about 3 minutes ago.

I was upstairs in the office, just checking muh e-mail and checking out Star's webjournal (http://starlightgoddess.bravejournal.com), and then all of a sudden, I heard something familiar on the TV. It was "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and when I finally comprehended this fact, I bolted down the stairs and to the living room where the TV was. I think I tripped over my dog, I was so excited. I then slid onto the couch where I eagerly watched this little peace of heaven. It was a commercial advertising the new Beatles box set that Capitol Records was releasing, and I was hungerly soaking it all in. It showed bits and pieces of Beatles footage, and I LOVED IT. I especially loved the part when Ringo was singing "I Wanna Be Your Man", which is definitely one of my all-time favourite songs.

It takes a real Beatles fan to know when something Beatles is on TV. Oh yeah.

Speaking of Beatles on TV, I skipped school once because there was gonna be a Ringo Starr documentary on PBS. And then I skipped school another time because there was an hour-long Beatles special on the Travel Channel. HELL YEAH!!!!!

Umm....its around 10.20 PM here, and I just have to spill about something.

I had this dream last night. It was the most peculiar dream I have ever had about the Beatles. Now before I tell you what it was about, please dont ridicule me about because it was just a dream, and I have no idea what it means. I remember the gist of it, but I only know the major part.

I had this dream, that the Beatles, were posing nude for an album cover, with only their hands covering their, well, don't make me say it. It was simple, just in a line, posing in the raw for an album cover. Yadayadayada, some stuff goes by that I can't remember, then there is 24 year-old Ringo, on the cover of Time magazine. In the raw, with only his hands covering his _____ , and a blank stare on his face, looking off to the distance. It was a black & white photo, with just a very light grey background. And there it was, a magnificent six pack on Ringo (on the contrary, Ringo was actually quite skinny and the shortest of the bunch). He was just standing there, looking off in the distance. I have not the slightest clue what this dream means, but it was quite an eye opener.

Good night, and happy Turkey day.

Tee Hee! Isn't that a cool subject for a post? But anyway, this night WANKS. These loud Russian people that are friends of my parents came over, and they are really pissing me off.

Here are the people followed by brief descriptions.

Igor: Middle-aged Russian immigrant with a beer belly and comb-over who has lived in America for 10 years, doesn't know ANY English whatsoever, and owns a successful business that rakes in hundreds of thousands of dollars a month. Tell me, is that fair?

Natasha: Twenty-something Russian blonde who married Igor (for the cash, I suppose, since he has nothing else to offer) and likes to party.

Tosha: Twelve year-old son of Igor from his first marriage who never talks and acts as his father's secretary because his father CAN'T SPEAK ENGLISH. Tosha is a computer nerd, plays hockey, and is not fat, but, uh, "festively plump".

But seriously, Igor's life is like a soap opera. He was (and still is) a raging alcoholic, had a kid, divorced his wife, moved to America, married a skimpy Russian whore, and had a heart attack. He owns a BMW and *three* houses. While he works three times a week, the people that work for him have to sweat and toil, doing whatever it is that they do. I hate Igor, and he always calls me "nevestka", which in Russian means "bride". I am NOT marrying that freaky child of his. I am marrying a hot British guy that looks like a Beatle. Duh.