...No, I'm not. But I'm not just doing Blog Every Day April. I'm doing Blog Every Day Ever. BEDE. Or at least Blog Every Day Ever Almost. I'm doing BEDEA. Writing in this blog all month has consistently been one of the best parts of my day, and I'm not going to stop. It's relieving-- setting aside a few minutes to self-reflect and amuse the most loyal of my internet followers, all while making a little bit of ad revenue and keeping up to date on the lives of my friends. Plus, the entries of this blog are so ME. What you read is what you get. So thanks, Maureen Johnson. I die without you. (Heeheehee. Get it? A Rent joke? Because her name is Maureen Johnson? Heh?)
I thought I'd get that out of the way so you didn't hate me for making this post so short and boring. If you're still mad, here's something funny to distract you.
Okay, so I put off doing my heaps and heaps of AP English homework due tomorrow until the last second again, and instead read the book I got from the library yesterday. I made an excuse for myself by writing a review of it for my school newspaper. I cannot fathom why you would care, but here it is:
"Once upon a time, I got royally dumped. We were together, we were happy, and then we weren’t. Like most self-respecting young women, I made sure he knew what he was missing by leaving him teary, nonsensical middle-of-the-night voicemails including catch phrases like “I know you better than you do!” and “You’ll remember that we belong together!” I talked my friends’ ears off, I ate a lot of cheese fries, and I listened to Demi Lovato. And then I discovered It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken: a girl’s self-help book by the author of He’s Just Not That Into You, Greg Behrendt.
Since its publication in 2005, this book has been saving lives like my own the world over. With step-by-step instructions for getting rid of his junk (return the laptop, toss the nail-clippers, box up the photographs), lists of things to do instead of stalk him (take up yoga, redecorate your bedroom) and a recipe for sorrow-drowning brownies, Because It’s Broken is the perfect manual for any psychopath.
One chapter, entitled “Why You Shouldn’t Call Him—And What He’s Thinking When You Do,” provides a link to a website where readers can download ringtones for their phones. “Really?” one ringtone shouts. “You’re gonna answer it? Is that what we’re doing now—backsliding? Really, we’re just gonna chuck our self-esteem out the window?”
Sure, many aspects of the book are undeniably corny. Behrendt frequently refers to the reader as “Superfox” and “Hot Stuff,” for example, and one page is a crossword puzzle that leads to writing out “I deserve better.” But at the end of the day, if the options are making another lonely 3AM phone call and calling yourself “Saucy Girl,” one is ultimately healthier than the other.
So if you’re still lipsynching to “All By Myself” in the kitchen wearing holey pajamas and remnants of your ice cream pint, run down to the library and pick up a copy of It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken. You’re broken up. It’s over. It’s time for an Extreme Home Breakover."
Criticisms? Comments? I see that a lot of you went out and got Sloppy Firsts after I suggested it, so I think I can trust your taste. On an unrelated note (I just didn't want too many short paragraphs; they're ugly), sorry for not making a 5AG video today. Waaay too busy. I'll hopefully post a video this weekend with footage of my prom, which is Saturday.
Sexy: The Office. Not the characters (Jim reminds me way too much of my brother!) and not the... building... but, like, the essence of the show itself.
Unsexy: Hilary Duff. Ever. Sorry, sweetie. You tried.
Chipotle burritos this year: 14
Days left of high school: 17
Bye, guys! See you tomorrow. <3