I think I'm drifting away from the point. Anyway, my massive-oh-so-big-goal was actually to hide in my school's underground store room just once. I can just hear you all facepalming at the anticlimax I created there.
"How obsece! Why would anyone make it their goal to be stuck in a dingy room that smells ofdirt and tree roots? The most exciting thing in there is a bunch of badminton nets. It is preposterous that anyone would base their schooling life around such a thing. I am offended! This is an outrage! Call 911! Ah, but this is Australia, so that number doesn't work! What shall I do? Call the police! Call the thought police? Ah screw it, call my Mum! She'll whack some sense into this seemingly delinquent child!"
That is exactly what you were thinking, right? I know, I know, I'm a psychic. You can reign your blessings and awe-struck comments on me anytime you please. All complaints about how perplexing you find my achieved goal can be lodged to Yo Mama. That's 69 So Fat Dr, Whaleville. Immaturity aside, I myself wonder why I put such an abstract thing at the top of my to-do list. You would think that your friendly neighbourhood academic medalist would be looking to do something more... intelligent. Oh wait, you wouldn't. Because anyone who knows anything about me could tell you that I am incapable of making serious goals. Even my "I want to get an A in this assignment" oh-so-craptacular-and-boring goals sound more like "I want to get an A to stick it to x teacher, and while I'm at it, I'm going to include y reference, just to see if they're biased enough to mark me down or up for it." Oh heaven above, I'd hate to teach me. Isn't it lucky that I'll never have to?
I get this feeling that I'm beating around the bush here. Or beating around the keyboard, if you will. Oh Pheebes, that's so lame, even for you. Internal monologuing, whoop whoop! I'm sorry, I must focus. Focus! *slap* I'm doubly sorry, I just had to insert a Total Drama reference there. We all know that I never grew up. Why do I get the feeling that this paragraph hasn't achieved anything yet? Oh right, it hasn't. Therefore, with a snap of my fingers and a click of my heels, I shall get to the point: it is the little things in life that you remember. Sure, I base a lot of my life around academics (and constantly complaining about academics) but the things that I learnt in tests or on assignments won't be the things that I remember in detail years later.
Getting myself into the store room was something that I discussed with whiteribbon back in the yesteryear of 2008. Actually, until then, neither of us knew that the school even had an underground store room, even though there are all of four proper buildings on the campus. It was so strange and earthy; unlike anywhere else in the school. So we decided that before we graduated, we'd somehow find a way to get into there again... Without supervision. Sadly, whiteribbon wasn't there when I finally got to do this, and it wasn't really that big of an event at the time. That depends on how you classify 'big', though, because I was literally bouncing off and trying to climb sloping concrete walls. I be special, kiddiez!
With that pointless goal over, I'm not sure what to promote to the top of my list. Sure, I could make it something like "Get a kick-ass OP" but what would be the fun in that? I'm thinking of either making it a) make sure that my faux marriage love triangle continues b) think of the best Inheritance Cycle chocolate milk drinking game shots for schoolies c) draw a moustache on my English teacher's face or d) serenade a random child. Oh yes children, I have a faux marriage love triangle. My memory fails me (I may have mentioned this before) but I was 'married' to TentuoTuo twice, and am currently 'married' to MissInvisible. My first marriage ended in death, communism, bats and hauntings. My second marriage, which had a proper ceremony in the library and everything, ended because Facebook messed up relationship statuses. And I'll be celebrating my one year marriage anniversary with MissI in about a month. It has been a good faux marriage. But I still like to keep things a little triangular with TT. One could say that neither my marriage to a gay guy or a straight girl have been completely successful so far. Gee, I wonder why?
Ohohoh! On the topic of goals, I just remembered that I completed a serious one today; I told my HPE teacher off for not knowing my name. Seriously, he has been teaching me for four years, and still calls me "girls," "ladies," "you," "um," or "Vandersay." The former is ClearlyUnfocused's nickname, not mine. Even AnonymousAlbino, who openly wags sport, is known to him. Bah. Anyway, he was telling my friends and I that he'd remember us in years to come.
"I'll remember you, Gojo. I'll remember you, Vandersay. I'll remember you... umm... errr..." he stuttered.
"And I'll always remember you as the teacher who never knew my name!" I retorted, half jokingly, but with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he laughed it off. A minute later, he yelled my name at my from across the sports field. I think he thought I'd be impressed that he actually remembered, but I was too busy feeling smug that I'd finally told him off (albeit not seriously) after four years of annoyance.
Sport is also where I got the title of this post from. In true me-style, I completely stacked it when playing a sport that we had to create. I called it "Decapitation Ball" and that wasn't far off the mark. I found myself whacked by the ball, dragged and squished by people pulling me with a skipping rope, and thrown to the ground on two occasions. The first was rather serious, and caused me to skin and bruise both my knees (it still hurts to walk), graze my elbow and have a lrage headache. Oh, and my vision went all weird and black and stuff, but I didn't want to make a fuss. I'm not the type to complain about injuries at the time. I would have at least asked for ice, but as I mentioned, the PE teacher didn't and doesn't know that I exist.
So anyway, I have decided that the ground must have been so attracted to me that it had to pull me towards it in a painful embrace. Nothing to do with being pushed over, no, no. You know what else is attractive? Strawberries. Nothing beats strawberries. Except for passionfriut; passionfruit is smexy. No that isn't code, yes I am talking about actual fruit. No I do not have a fruit fetish, yes I eat more fruit than I do any other type of fruit. How did we even get on to fruit? I don't even, man. You know what else is attractive? The fact that I'm blogging again, and I spruced this place up a bit. Do you like my dodgy-but-improved background? See them clouds (the real question is one of the grammar this sentence)? They have silver linings! I am just so subtle like that. I could have made a different or more intricate background picture, but I think the style suits. It's like this blog; dodgy, cheesy, just a tad weird, but something that doesn't take itself too seriously. N'aww, picture metaphor.
Ah, I must depart to the land of slumber. I have to get up early tomorrow to buy another formal dress, because the one I waited for five months to get was shipped from America in the wrong colour. If something like that was going to happen to anyone, it would be me. I was really annoyed about this, but now I'm just finding it amusing. Okay chickens, hope you're totally estatic about my return to blogging. Or at least moved emotionally in any way. As long as it's not aroused, because that would just be disturbing. Speaking of which, I apparently looked like I was seducing someone today. I was so confused, because for all my sus joking, I really am still far too innocent in the brain. No, really, I didn't get how it looked like that at all. But then again, that's probably the problem. Problems can be problematic, my fine folk!
That's all there is. There isn't any more.
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