The Pimple (!)
So for english class we have to keep a brain book - which is SEMI like a journal, semi like a notebook
doesnt matter
anyways we're supposed to write in it every day
I found today's entertaining.
its slightly embellished - and as a piece of writing it needs piles of work - but you get the idea.
ha ♥
Monday morning - 6:30 AM
I have the most atrocious pimple on my mouth today. It’s right on the upper left hand corner of my lip and is purely petrifying. It’s that putrid yellow colour with a black spot smack-dab in the middle - and wouldn’t you know it? - I’ve got a MASSIVELY important interview at Tim Hortons… ugh. [ It sticks out too - the pimple I mean - people might even start to climb it - I could have the beginning of mount Everest on my lip. Who knows? Maybe there’s profit in it…. *note to self - think about this*)
Monday afternoon - 4:25 PM
So I’ve been stood up it seems - interviewer didn’t show - how long do you have to wait before you’re allowed to leave? One French Vanilla Cappuccino, Two chocolate caramel pecan cookies, and Three phone calls later I was ready. Bummer.
Positive side - At least he won’t see my pimple.
Monday afternoon - 4:35 PM
So my teeth are playing chatterbox while I wait for the light to turn green and just let me go HOME (honestly it must be the longest light in Markham!). I trance out thinking about how wretchedly unlucky it is that today of all days (where I had to sit alllll alone by myself in a corner for an hour. Gr.) I forget my two greatest forms of entertainment: my pen and my ipod. Tranced out in the irony of it all - I notice out of the wee corner of my eye, two very distinctively teenage boys approaching.
Immediately my reaction is “THE PIMPLE!” and I “coolly” turn my head in the opposite direction - greeted by the sight of some angelic dog’s release. Watching the boys’ shadows grow larger on the pavement with their approach (and trying desperately not to notice the small pile of loveliness beside me), I pretend not to notice as one of them stops dangerously close to me. Theyre splitting up - and I , unable to keep my head turned away from both of them, follow the other with my eyes as he passes by - and turns to glance back at me - a large grin spreading on his pimply face. Suddenly much less conscious about my atrocity, my eyes return to the stop light - my head, almost so. When the light {finally!} turns green, I let the remaining boy cross in front of me.
And then everything becomes much more amusing.
This 6 foot nothing in front of me, with his peeling running shoes and pants about 2 sizes two small, starts to saunter.
Very badly.
I can’t figure out if maybe he’s got a limp? A rock in his shoe?
Oh dear.
Do guys REALLY think we find the waddle attractive!?!?
As he “discretely” glances over his shoulder to see if I’ve noticed him, a tiny bubble of laughter grows inside of me.
And grows.
And grows.
And grows.
And bursts!
I'm ashamed to admit that quite the snicker burst out of my mouth.
I cant help it! I'm not laughing at the poor guy - I'm sure he really nice - but the strut! Oh dear god - the strut! Right in front of rush hour traffic - what is he thinking!?!?
So as the sun reflects of my freshly washed hair, and glints in the breeze - Ill admit - I'm feeling pretty slick {pimple forgotten! for .. about 10 seconds!) I slow down, throw my shoulders back and enjoy the show.
And then I realize -
I'm really no better than the guy in front of me am I? He obviously thinks he’s talking on the road like a pro - like me. Model-esque down the runway. Someone could be guffawing at ME - right now. Behind me! (I frantically glance over my shoulder to check)
Well.
At least they’ll have a good view.
♥
doesnt matter
anyways we're supposed to write in it every day
I found today's entertaining.
its slightly embellished - and as a piece of writing it needs piles of work - but you get the idea.
ha ♥
Monday morning - 6:30 AM
I have the most atrocious pimple on my mouth today. It’s right on the upper left hand corner of my lip and is purely petrifying. It’s that putrid yellow colour with a black spot smack-dab in the middle - and wouldn’t you know it? - I’ve got a MASSIVELY important interview at Tim Hortons… ugh. [ It sticks out too - the pimple I mean - people might even start to climb it - I could have the beginning of mount Everest on my lip. Who knows? Maybe there’s profit in it…. *note to self - think about this*)
Monday afternoon - 4:25 PM
So I’ve been stood up it seems - interviewer didn’t show - how long do you have to wait before you’re allowed to leave? One French Vanilla Cappuccino, Two chocolate caramel pecan cookies, and Three phone calls later I was ready. Bummer.
Positive side - At least he won’t see my pimple.
Monday afternoon - 4:35 PM
So my teeth are playing chatterbox while I wait for the light to turn green and just let me go HOME (honestly it must be the longest light in Markham!). I trance out thinking about how wretchedly unlucky it is that today of all days (where I had to sit alllll alone by myself in a corner for an hour. Gr.) I forget my two greatest forms of entertainment: my pen and my ipod. Tranced out in the irony of it all - I notice out of the wee corner of my eye, two very distinctively teenage boys approaching.
Immediately my reaction is “THE PIMPLE!” and I “coolly” turn my head in the opposite direction - greeted by the sight of some angelic dog’s release. Watching the boys’ shadows grow larger on the pavement with their approach (and trying desperately not to notice the small pile of loveliness beside me), I pretend not to notice as one of them stops dangerously close to me. Theyre splitting up - and I , unable to keep my head turned away from both of them, follow the other with my eyes as he passes by - and turns to glance back at me - a large grin spreading on his pimply face. Suddenly much less conscious about my atrocity, my eyes return to the stop light - my head, almost so. When the light {finally!} turns green, I let the remaining boy cross in front of me.
And then everything becomes much more amusing.
This 6 foot nothing in front of me, with his peeling running shoes and pants about 2 sizes two small, starts to saunter.
Very badly.
I can’t figure out if maybe he’s got a limp? A rock in his shoe?
Oh dear.
Do guys REALLY think we find the waddle attractive!?!?
As he “discretely” glances over his shoulder to see if I’ve noticed him, a tiny bubble of laughter grows inside of me.
And grows.
And grows.
And grows.
And bursts!
I'm ashamed to admit that quite the snicker burst out of my mouth.
I cant help it! I'm not laughing at the poor guy - I'm sure he really nice - but the strut! Oh dear god - the strut! Right in front of rush hour traffic - what is he thinking!?!?
So as the sun reflects of my freshly washed hair, and glints in the breeze - Ill admit - I'm feeling pretty slick {pimple forgotten! for .. about 10 seconds!) I slow down, throw my shoulders back and enjoy the show.
And then I realize -
I'm really no better than the guy in front of me am I? He obviously thinks he’s talking on the road like a pro - like me. Model-esque down the runway. Someone could be guffawing at ME - right now. Behind me! (I frantically glance over my shoulder to check)
Well.
At least they’ll have a good view.
♥