Fogedaboudit: Brizine Eighteen

I like being alone because it makes me the tannest person in the room. It allows me to be more delusional.
For example, right now I am sitting at my computer and, compared to the walls, I look completely tan. In this room Pee Wee Herman would think he was as tan as... JC at band camp last year. Yeah. That tan.




A huge vat of Brianna’s is very very different from a huge vat of Briannas.

Explanation: http://www.briannassaladdressing.com/

Titles for Lance Bass’s upcoming memoirs:

Bringin’ Da Boys
Pop (Out of the Closet)
When I Decide I’m Gay: That’s When I’ll Stop Loving You
I Thought Everybody Knew
Space Cowboy [Yippie-Yi-Yay] <--- didn’t have to alter that one at all. Remember when Lance wanted to go into space?





Talking about the new Pirates of the Carribbean movie:
Mom: Is that girl going to be in it?
Me: Keira Knightley
Dad: Good thing she’s not Isabella Priscilla
Me: Yes that’s really handy... What are you talking about?
Dad: Because then she’d be I. P.

Top 9 Pros of Living Alone

You can burst into a spontaneous dance party whenever the mood strikes, just like your info says, without embarrassment

Nobody will secretly put in the last five pieces of that jigsaw puzzle you spent a month working on, unless your friends are huge jerks.

You can set up dominoes all over and test your elfin walking skillz... and if you’re truly light on your feet you can leave them up for a week.

Air guitar time is all the time

It’s much easier to keep track of whose stuff is whose. Whatever it is, it’s yours.

Hypothetically, if you wanted to, you could create your own imaginary kingdom where you were ruler inside of your house and there would be no one to challenge you.

You can Stevie G it in the house whenever you want, unless you have a chandelier... which you don’t.

Nobody can argue that the giant candy bar you created in art class in grade 8 is not worthy of being displayed in a place of honor.

There are never unidentified persons sleeping in your basement when you wake up... hopefully



“I used to spend a week just breathing”
-Treebeard

trippy man.


I don’t really consider myself to be an average teenager, at least not when it comes to fighting with my parents. Sure, sometimes we have communication issues, but we don’t do the typical teen movie kind of quarreling: “There is no way you’re leaving the house looking like that young lady”; “But everybody’s doing it!”; “Because I said so, that’s why.”
However, there is one thing I really can’t help but love: A weather fight. Right now (when I was writing this) Ontario is experiencing a big heat wave... apparently. I don’t know why, but for some reason I don’t feel it. It’s a bit weird, really. I sit at the dinner table listening to my family categorize their sweat levels anywhere from rivulets to a flash flood warning. As a test I wipe my brow. Nothing. It is proclaimed, for the 420th time this hour, that there is no breeze. It would be so much nicer if there were a breeze. So as I said before, I really can’t help it. It’s irresistible at this point. The straw that breaks the dromedary’s back comes with the plans for the evening. They run somewhere along the lines of: eat dessert- a choice of ice cream or just ice; go for a boat ride at full speed to create an artificial breeze (It would be so much nicer if there were a breeze); swim in the lake; sit on the dock and fan ourselves; swim again; tape ice cubes all over ourselves; languish.
If you were sitting there just wondering what the heck had gotten into everyone’s inner thermostats, you would snap too. So I drop my fork on my plate, muster my most typically teenage aggravated voice and say, “Gawd, it’s not that hot!” Maybe the most appealing thing about a weather fight is that you really can’t have a fight. You always have to agree to disagree in the end. I guess I just enjoy a good couple of minutes trying to convince my family that what they feel is wrong... them and the rest of the province.
Tomorrow I’m taking on the thermometer.



To discourage people from not posting a pic of themselves on facebook the infamous question mark will be replaced by Aaron Carter. Or Jabba the Hutt.

Also, a “Favorite methods of stalking” category will be added.




Some things I shouldn’t do while on vacation:

-check facebook
-talk/think about facebook

-watch crappy reality TV shows like Rockstar: Supernova, with crappy and/or creepy hosts like Dave Navarro

-read newspaper articles about pedophiles (gives me nightmares)

-do the same puzzle more than six times

-wonder what happened on the season finale of The Hills

-read any book that talks about intimidatingly large wild animals attacking people in the woods at night... apparently this amplifies my already irrationally large fear of raccoons, and can make waling between cottages at night a bit too exciting

-read Little Men a-freaking-gain. Or any more Agatha Christie mysteries. Or anything by Dr. Seuss

-wear shoes. Or socks. Ew.




Maybe the plural of campus should be campi.