This morning my mother shook me awake at 7:00AM, exuding joy. "Do you want to go with me to buy a new vacuum?!" The offer was a tempting one. "I want to sleep," I informed her with the half of my mouth not dripping saliva onto my pillow. With a "Suit yourself!" she left, bouncing and beaming. I slept for another half hour or so, feeling guilty in the part of my brain that was conscious for being the bratty teenager. Then I realized that I get ready for school at seven thirty and it's a Saturday. When I decided to get up, I was greeted by an equally as enthusi-spastic call from my sister. "Guuuuueeees whaaaat!" she squealed. "You've won a special prize." The Special Prize, I soon found out, was the opportunity to watch her get her hair done. Special! And prizing! So after about four hours of reading bridal magazines while Cori got highlights, I returned home to meet our new pet, Dyson. I mean, like, if a pet is something cute you bring into your house for care and entertainment, then to my mother, her vacuum cleaner is, indeed, a pet. Every single corner of my house is now lined with clean streaks. Today was one of the first nice, warm days all year, and my mom was upstairs with all the lights on, stroking her favorite toy lovingly. "Mother," I half gasped, half whined. "How many times have you emptied the canister so far?" A trashcan sat in the center of the room, holding masses of dust and dog fur and staples and human hair. "A MILLION!" she responded, shaking the contents into the garbage bag once again. A million. I would totally believe it.
This afternoon I went for a walk and got ice cream with my friend, Lauren. I love spending time with her, and we're really close, but the two of us collectively are so boring. It's not that we run out of things to talk about, but we frequently end up blaring Miley Cyrus and banging our heads against the dashboard in wishful misery. So here I am now, writing a blog post entirely out of obligation, listening to A Cinderella Story play in the background, home on a Saturday night before my parents are.
In youtubely news, Alan (fallofautumndistro) came up with a really awesome idea for a vlogging game. You should participate. He's cute.
Sexy: Weird clothes. As long as they fit. Do whatever you want, but make sure your ugly white socks don't show when you sit down in jeans.
Unsexy: Scoop-licking ice cream with your tongue. It is NOT a spoon. Stop using it to jackhammer into the cone and then flicking it back into your throat. Gross.
Chipotle burritos this year: 12
Days left of high school: 26
Bye, guys! See you tomorrow. <3