2nd entry...excitement.
Hello world.
So here I am thinking, maybe I should work out, I've eaten too many carbs, I'll die of fat consumption (damn you southern california *shakes fist*). When I think, no I should write a novel of a journal for you all (I say you all but I mean when my friends finally give me their goddamned LJ usernames, you sons of whores! So right now I just mean me and like..two other people) to read and get in trouble because you were supposed to be doing something else. I'm not even supposed to be on the computer and I figure if I go down, you're going down with me. Would you like to know how today went after I got in trouble and couldn't lose myself in the digital world? Let me tell you. (we're going back in time, to Ivana's point of view..view..view...)
My dad is dancing a kolo. Kolo is a serbian folk dance. Someone should let my dad know this however, because he looks more like he's doing a serbian cripwalk of sorts. As if the constant yellings of "OPA!" weren't enough, he's telling me of "the good old times" and "tradition" while he listens to traditional serbian folk on my ipod. The irony is making my ears bleed.
Now for dinner. Beautiful, glorious. What are we having? Stuffed Pepper. Oh, I'm full you know, mom. Nope, no go. I have to eat Satan's guts wrapped in the red flesh of his asshole. Oh the joy that is bursting through me. While we sit let's listen to dad tell me how he was in the army. I'm sitting there contemplating how exactly to make the meat innards of Lucifer disappear, and my father is bursting into song at random points throughout this. Songs about the army. Which, oh did you know? He was in. I move some meat around, move, shift, retch. My father is still belting out the same line over & over while my brother is mumbling & I can hear things like "cheetard" coming from his mouth. Which I assume is a cheeto and a retard, which makes sense considering cheetos are like orange dusty death, but I digress. My dad stops singing long enough to loudly recite serbian sayings that no one gets about branches & someone's happiness. Whose? I wouldn't know, he's singing again. I ask mom to go to the movies with Lauren, Dad cuts in immediately.
"You know Ivana, you're very good at tricking people, excellent, you know exactly how to do it, it's a gift, but you don't fool me."
Apparently I was trying to fool my mother into thinking I wanted to go the movies when really I'm running a top secret association which requires the major theft of the world's largest coffee mug. Good thing my dad spotted it, who knows what kind of trouble I could have gotten in if he hadn't figured out my clever scheme. He goes on to tell me about how smart I am for being able to trick people so well, to which i burst out laughing (as does my brother) and my mom gets mad, so they start doing this sarcastic bit of me tricking them, which confuses me a lot so i ask them if theyre both drunk. It's an obvious question, don't you think? They didn't think so, apparently because they got mad at me again, and told me to shut up. Then my brother did an impersonation of my dad and i spit my pink lemonade all over my plate of the devil's large intestine. My dad evidently found this the perfect time to start his one-line singing extravangza up again, so I asked him if he would please not sing, he was going to make me get a brain tumor and die. I guess he didn't find my death very important, because he kept singing and clapping as if dinner were just the liveliest party on earth. Fuck disneyland, digestion! After about an hour of whining and explaining to my dad that if he didn't let me be excused from the table his first born might plunge into an angst-ridden lifestyle, start wearing only black and learn to play the bongo drums. He doesnt really appreciate the poetic lifestyle i might one day lead, so he excuses me and I read an australian book filled with laughs and this girl's love is named "Saxon Walker" what an amazing name.
Anyways that's about it.
I know, I'm lame, but I had to describe my home life so you all (and again...you all is referring to the people who are currently NOT on my friend list thingie because I'm a noob and I have to wait for everyone on myspace to get LJ like me. COME ON PEOPLE! GET ON THE STICK!) can understand why I talk so much and so randomly. My family.
Goooodnight.
:]
So here I am thinking, maybe I should work out, I've eaten too many carbs, I'll die of fat consumption (damn you southern california *shakes fist*). When I think, no I should write a novel of a journal for you all (I say you all but I mean when my friends finally give me their goddamned LJ usernames, you sons of whores! So right now I just mean me and like..two other people) to read and get in trouble because you were supposed to be doing something else. I'm not even supposed to be on the computer and I figure if I go down, you're going down with me. Would you like to know how today went after I got in trouble and couldn't lose myself in the digital world? Let me tell you. (we're going back in time, to Ivana's point of view..view..view...)
My dad is dancing a kolo. Kolo is a serbian folk dance. Someone should let my dad know this however, because he looks more like he's doing a serbian cripwalk of sorts. As if the constant yellings of "OPA!" weren't enough, he's telling me of "the good old times" and "tradition" while he listens to traditional serbian folk on my ipod. The irony is making my ears bleed.
Now for dinner. Beautiful, glorious. What are we having? Stuffed Pepper. Oh, I'm full you know, mom. Nope, no go. I have to eat Satan's guts wrapped in the red flesh of his asshole. Oh the joy that is bursting through me. While we sit let's listen to dad tell me how he was in the army. I'm sitting there contemplating how exactly to make the meat innards of Lucifer disappear, and my father is bursting into song at random points throughout this. Songs about the army. Which, oh did you know? He was in. I move some meat around, move, shift, retch. My father is still belting out the same line over & over while my brother is mumbling & I can hear things like "cheetard" coming from his mouth. Which I assume is a cheeto and a retard, which makes sense considering cheetos are like orange dusty death, but I digress. My dad stops singing long enough to loudly recite serbian sayings that no one gets about branches & someone's happiness. Whose? I wouldn't know, he's singing again. I ask mom to go to the movies with Lauren, Dad cuts in immediately.
"You know Ivana, you're very good at tricking people, excellent, you know exactly how to do it, it's a gift, but you don't fool me."
Apparently I was trying to fool my mother into thinking I wanted to go the movies when really I'm running a top secret association which requires the major theft of the world's largest coffee mug. Good thing my dad spotted it, who knows what kind of trouble I could have gotten in if he hadn't figured out my clever scheme. He goes on to tell me about how smart I am for being able to trick people so well, to which i burst out laughing (as does my brother) and my mom gets mad, so they start doing this sarcastic bit of me tricking them, which confuses me a lot so i ask them if theyre both drunk. It's an obvious question, don't you think? They didn't think so, apparently because they got mad at me again, and told me to shut up. Then my brother did an impersonation of my dad and i spit my pink lemonade all over my plate of the devil's large intestine. My dad evidently found this the perfect time to start his one-line singing extravangza up again, so I asked him if he would please not sing, he was going to make me get a brain tumor and die. I guess he didn't find my death very important, because he kept singing and clapping as if dinner were just the liveliest party on earth. Fuck disneyland, digestion! After about an hour of whining and explaining to my dad that if he didn't let me be excused from the table his first born might plunge into an angst-ridden lifestyle, start wearing only black and learn to play the bongo drums. He doesnt really appreciate the poetic lifestyle i might one day lead, so he excuses me and I read an australian book filled with laughs and this girl's love is named "Saxon Walker" what an amazing name.
Anyways that's about it.
I know, I'm lame, but I had to describe my home life so you all (and again...you all is referring to the people who are currently NOT on my friend list thingie because I'm a noob and I have to wait for everyone on myspace to get LJ like me. COME ON PEOPLE! GET ON THE STICK!) can understand why I talk so much and so randomly. My family.
Goooodnight.
:]