Slow Children

CAUTION: Slow children live here. 

BEACH camping

Have you ever slept on the beach overnight? Well let me tell you, it's fun. But you never know what may come at you. Maybe you have a wonderful time, with a moon, a sunset, you hear some nice birds singing in the morning, and you catch a lot of fish. See that would have been quite convenient. But no.

No, of course that didn't happen. See what we experienced was just as fun, if not more fun, just a little crazy. No sunset, the clouds were too thick, and as night came around we realised we lacked a moon too. Not to mention the big roaring waves that invaded our happy little spot. Waves would go under our chairs, and nearly hit our car. So we moved back. And back again. But this wasn't the worst part. You see, these waves seemed to carry all of these little jumping crabs. These crabs came in 100s. And liked our feet.

We would have 100 little crabs invading our area at one moment, and then a wave would crash and bring another hundred. And if you know the ocean, waves come frequently. Especially when they are rollers.

These jumping crabs were worse then mosquitoes and green heads put together. They will just crawl all over your feet and dance, and jump. But that hardly matters, see after a few moments of uncomfortable little crabs on your feet, they will start to dig their claws into your skin. It's disturbing. So not only were we on a loud beach, with huge crashing waves, looking up at a pitch dark sky with no moon, and an unsatisfying sunset, but we all had our legs sticking awkwardly out in the air, avoiding the little midnight jumping crabs, that liked our feet.

At about 2 in the morning we made a bed out of blankets on the damp beach. I had finally started to drift off to sleep when a crab jumps into my ear. Shall I repeat? MY EAR! My... EAR. A little jumping crab jumped its way into my ear, while I was sleeping. Do you know how absolutely disturbing it is to be half a sleep and have a gross little baby jumping crab fly into your ear? It's horrific. It's awful. So I scream, and don't deny it, you would scream too. I get out of my sleeping bag, and get the crab OUT OF MY EAR. And of course then it starts to rain, and thunder, and lightening appears, and after a few minutes the lightening comes close enough to threaten us on our metal chairs.

So we spend the night in the car.


Mr. and Mrs. Lobster-muffin

Da Da dada Da Daa Da Da Da dadada Da DA DADA DA da da dada da dadadada Da Da dada Da Daa Da Da Da Da Da DA!

I just want to let you know that I worked my booty off trying to make the das remind you of the wedding song... I don't know if it worked. But perhaps you get the point. I wed my lobster and muffin. (Except I kind of took a bite out of Mr. Muffin before hand.) Way too delicious. :)


The little crabbie that lived

This is my little crabbie. Not that I can claim it. I'm not even the one that saved this little life. But I'll be explaining its life story, for the sake of having nothing to do at this point in time. So here I go. This is my little crabbie.
Once upon a time there was a little crabby.  He was very adventurous. He liked to climb on forbidden things, roam away from his parents, and sometimes try to eat his older brothers and sisters when little fishies ran short. Life was a breeze all before the day he went missing. The day he got stuck in a big jumble of  fisherman net. This net contained broken line, rustled rope, and sharp sticks. Little crabbie thought it was the end, for she was stuck, and hungry.

Then one July morning in Nantucket a 10 year old girl named Cassidy saved the little crabbie. My sister saved my little crabbie.

And now my little crabbie is free in Nantucket, and happy.
And a sand shark will be transporting him to his parents in the morning.


Antique Cars

Here I am in my paradise, taken away from the reality of the universe. No loud cars, honking noises, shouting. The loudest noises here in Nantucket are the birds that start to sing at 4:30 am. I thought I was being very observant to the fact that Nantucket seems to have a lot of antique car holders. Every few miles I'll see an antique car, snap a photo. Of course, I didn't realise there was a Nantucket Antique Car Rental in town till yesterday. GOOD JOB Lily...


Not quite toothpaste

We all have childhood fears. Do you remember the boogie monster? The monster under your bed? The poisonous apple from snow white? Or getting poisoned from a mouth wash? Okay maybe the last one isn't so common, but it definitely happens. Growing up I was always a bit afraid of the WARNINGS on the medicine containers. The poisonous factors of antibiotics or mouth rinses, "If more than used for rinsing is accidentally swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center RIGHT AWAY." Is it not normal to be scared of these warnings? What if I don't realise I swallowed too much? What if the poison center is closed? What if I don't get there right away because there is traffic? Whenever I would rinse my mouth with an "Anti-cavity Fluoride Rinse" or mouth wash, I would be extremely cautious and rinse my mouth several times after with water. I just wanted to be safe you know?

Or the cream medicines, "KEEP OUT OF EYES", "KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN" And then I'd ask my mom, "I'm a child why are you putting this cream on me?" I don't know about you but I was very cautious when I was a little girl.

But as you grow up, you realise how these warnings are only slightly true. How they are exaggerated, just to be safe. So that if something happens, the company won't be sued. So this morning, I guess you could call me casual as I reached for the tooth paste, not really scared of anything. Being slightly normal. But casual enough not to check if the tooth paste was in fact toothpaste.

For about a week now I have had these two burns on my left arm. You see, I like to think I am handy with a hair curler, yea well apparently I'm not. Because when I tried to curl my hair last week, well. I guess you could say it didn't go very well. But who can resist a beautiful new curling iron? With a cheetah print handle? That is practically calling my name? So I tried it out, and burned my arm... twice. We got antibiotic cream for the burns.

And through my casualties I picked up this antibiotic cream instead of toothpaste this morning, and started to use it on my teeth.


Goodbye NEST+m

Goodbye Nest. I hate you. I love you. I'll never wear your nest shirt again, I'll miss your rotten chicken wings, and frozen milk. I'll miss you're squeaky clean building, of which you have spoiled me. My high school building is an ugly duckling compared to you. 6 years I spent under your walls, and as much as I'll miss them, leaving is what I've been dreaming for since I entered.

I'm going to miss my nerdy school. The innocent little nesties, with khaki pants, nest polos buttoned up, bulky sneakers, colorful braces, rolling backpacks and frozen milk in breakfast cereal. Insane teachers, screaming over jeans. Good bye nerdy nest. I think I might miss you.


Fake nose

I'm only 13, too young to do many things. Such as go on the work out machines in the health club, too young to go in the sauna, steam room, too old to go to the movies as a $9 kid. But as you probably know, most of these restrictions are easy to slide through. I go in the sauna almost every time I go swimming, I love the steam room too. The movie issue is easily solved by a little girl hair do, and a puppy dog face. And yesterday when I was faced with an issue of free kayaking the problem was easy to face. I just messed up a little bit. See I should never have told them my age. You need to be 16 and of course, I am not 16. I assumed you needed to be older then 13, so I informed them I was 14.


If I go back today and tell them I am 16, which would be believable considering my height, I won't convince them. My face will be recognised.

And it's not like I was some forgettable person coming along to ask for kayaking. I was soaking wet. With two other friends, and didn't really want to let it slide that I was too young. I can't say I argued, but I definitely tried to negotiate.


So a new nose will solve all my problems.

If I have a fake nose I won't be recognised, and can easily kayak joyfully. So if you happen to find your self in contact with a fake nose. TELL ME. I've searched, but am not being very lucky. If you know anything. Please tell me. Thanks. ;)


Thursday was the Geometry Regents. So bye bye Geometry. ;)

That's a cool school bus.



Like honestly? Why are they here? I love nature, I know everything has a balance and what not. And fine, bugs can exist, but can they please just leave me alone? Eat my sister, I'm fine with that.
Just leave me be.

Do you realise that I have to put on bug spray in my own house? I don't even live in some country side house with window screens. I'm living on the 31st floor in an apartment building in NYC. Shouldn't I be free from bugs?

Oh but no. This is never the case. I mean, if anything I experience more bugs then most people.

I remember a few years back we had a cockroach problem. It was really disgusting. I was scared to enter my kitchen. I remember once I woke up and saw a little cockroach enter my room under the door and slip into my over night bag for Camp Mason. I was so freaked out.

And for some reason we now have a problem with fruit flies. We might have kept some over ripe bananas longer then we needed to... We eventually made some delicious banana bread though. But now, i mean these fruit flies are coming in swarms. Okay, no. I am most definitely exaggerating, but they are extremely annoying.

They are leaving me alone right now. But the mosquitoes are getting me.

Now please explaining to me why mosquitoes like girls better then boys? I don't understand...

I can't sleep because I have itches all over Me.
And smell like Off! Spray.


I hate spiders too. Which is ridiculous, because if I want these bugs to go away, I need to let the spiders do their jobs.

Why must my blood be so delicious?

Subway buddy # 2

This here is William. Or at least, this is what I believe his name to be. No particular reason his name is William. It just kind of... makes sense in my mind.

Yes, so William. He performs on subways, sidewalks, parking lots. He's pretty good. Has a nice range. Sounds a bit like Micheal Jackson. Is he the next American Idol? I'm not sure, but I won't be surprised to see him auditioning and making it pretty far. He says he's going to audition. So look at his face. Remember it. And know that I called it. You heard it hear first.

With a nice hair cut, a new shirt, some perfume, and a new pair of shoes, he'll be ready for Hollywood. But for now, he's still asking for change from people on the subway, so wish him luck!


Missing sock

I don't like to do laundry. Who does? But my reason is a bit different then yours probably. You see, my laundry bin is this huge metal cylinder, with holes that seem to grate your fingers as though you were cheese, and it takes all my body weight to bring it over to the laundry room. I can't even carry it. It rests on my toes and I wiggle over to the room.

But just now. I had the oddest thing happen...

I was wigglying over to the laundry room, when my sock fell off. But that was no biggy, so I went into the laundry room and did my laundry business. But here is the weird part. As I left the laundry room, across the hall I saw my neighbors door closing. I also noticed that my sock was missing...

My neighbor stole my sock.

Okay, is that not the most random thing for a neighbor to do? And now I'm kind of angry because well. I liked that sock a lot. And now my neighbor has it.

What the heck is my neighbor going to do with my dirty sock?


Happy Birthday Mr. Hohl!

Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday Mr. Hohl.
Happy Birthday to you!

Mr. Hohl. Mr. Hohl. Mr. Hohl.
Where do I start?

Mr. Hohl isn't very average. There's no other teacher quite like him. He'll humiliate you, somehow always be up on the school gossip, (sometimes before you), and steal your stuff. And I'm not talking take away your cell phone for a few days. No I mean taking away your New York Yankees Foam finger because of his sad little Mets. Oh and he wont give it back to you. Not for months. He's got a closet full of innocent children's possessions.
I tell you.

But for some strange reason. The whole school is nuts about him. And being his birthday today. Well it's a Hohliday! (Notice the pun there?)

On Monday, there will no doubt be a whole pile of birthday presents awaiting him. Why would an evil History teacher be praised so much for his evil? Simple. He. Makes. Us. Laugh.

He's not a boring lecture about Lincoln's assassination.
He's a teacher who spunks it up a little bit.
He'll make fun of you, but you know he's slightly joking.
He'll know the gossip, only to make you laugh harder.
And oh, when he steals your stuff, well. Although that is evil, and probably slightly illegal... That's funny too. And that's why people want to bring him presents.

Like me.

Hmm... What can I bring him? That was the first question from a few days before.

Something having to do with the Yankees? Haha. No he'd just burn it.
A pretty box with a cold turkey leg inside? No... That's just like giving him a grilled cheese sandwich.

How about something from my grandma's store? Something... Random?

You see. My grandmas store closed down about three years ago, and my mom helped get the stuff out. In return, my grandma let her keep whatever she cleared. Which included...

A fake dog, (whom I named muffin) My parents wont let me have a real dog.
A ton of extreme stationary.
And a bunch of RANDOM things.
Including what I aim to give Mr. Hohl.

It's a make your own tissue box. Where you can put someone's face behind the plastic, and the tissues come out of their mouth. I need to find a picture of him for it. I'll show you the end result!

But for now...

Happy Birthday Mr. Hohl!


Oh Regents.

Oh Regents. What a stress you bring to these children's lives. Children of middle school. WHY? Why must you come among us and spoil our time to be free and play? We are in 8th grade! We should be playing like little babies. Oh but no. Oh but no. We take these tests. We work till the last moment. We get no rewards. No nap time. No play time. Nothing. Oh Why? NEST. Why?


Only 13

A stuborn artistic drama queen, stuck inside the nerds point of view. Only 13, already stressing over life, as though she's 62. Already declining adventures for her room. Slumped in front of the computer screen, watching minutes and hours fly by the second, the clocks hand moving at uncontrollable speeds. It's unpredictable the pathway she will take. The view in her eyes, with no mistake a yearning to do what she loves. Which is to write. Which is to perform, to act, to sing. The stress of being a teen.



I'm allergic to Walnuts. Really, horribly allergic. Like it's not even funny. Give me a walnut and I will die in your lap unless you rush me to a hospital. Now I hope there is not someone out there that wants me dead, because I just gave them an easy way to dispose of me... ANYWAYS. What I am about to tell you is very cool. The walnut looks like a little brain with a skull around it right? They look like they have a left and right hemisphere, upper cerebrums and lower cerebelums. Even the wrinkles or folds are on the nut just like the neo-cortex. And do you know? Walnuts help your brain develop. But don't think I'm less brainy because I can't eat walnuts. The reason I was given the inability of digesting walnuts is because if I had any more wit, I might just explode. ;)


Subway Buddy #1

That's right everybody, my first Subway Buddy is a rat. Actually, it's an honor. This has to be the absolute most adorable rat you have ever seen in your life in New York City. I mean just LOOK at it. The poor thing. I'm sure it was poisoned. Look at it lying there, it looks as though it had it's self a heart attack. Why are we so cruel?

We are killing enough animals out there. The oil spill killing millions each day, our pollution killing off endangered species, and now killing innocent little rats!

Okay, I know what you are thinking. Lily's insane. Rats are disgusting. Rats leave me nightmares, poop on my rug, eat my brownies, but can you say that after looking at this innocent rat? Poisoned by your screams? It's cute. It's dead. It's sad!

The rats name was Billy. He was the class clown. He liked to eat yogurt, and steal homeless men's money to buy himself a twix bar in the rat counter below the human deli. He would share it with his family. He was a good baby. Always slept when told to. Always read in bed. Always ate the cheese, put the ketchup on the hamburgers. The ants. The cockroaches. But one day, one day, his mother died. And he was lost in a sea of desperation. He cried. And cried. And ran into the tracks of the subway and by accident licked the pole of poison. And then he died, the next day.

So all you rat haters. Feel for poor Billy. Feel for his friends and family. Who not only are grieving for the loss of his mother, but for the loss of him. And now. Whenever you see a rat, think of Billy before you scream. Think of Billy before you kill off his family tree. He is watching you. Baby Billy is watching.



I've got a problem.
And so does the rest of the 8th grade at NEST +m. (Or at least most of us)

Our Geometry teacher, Ms. Berger assigned us a very simple project in the beginning of the year. We would only have this project. The whole year. No other math projects but this simple flashcard project. The project consisted of writing down every key point in each lesson, chapter, etc. on a flashcard.

It was all easy. You needed a bunch of flashcards, a container, and thats all.

But as the year trotted along. I mean, everyone would forget their flashcards at home or loose them. Or carelessly ask others for flashcards and stuff them in backpacks, it was a mess.

And nearing towards the end of the year. I thought we might be off the hook. Ms. Berger hadn't mentioned the flash cards in over 3 months.

But ofcourse. We weren't. The flashcards, (All 206 of them) are due Monday June 14. I, among the rest of the 8th graders at Nest + m Middle School, don't have atleast half. Infact, I lost all of them.

I'm starting from the beginning.
Oh, what a joy.


Subway Life

You could say I'm a real New Yorker, I mean I travel on train atleast twice every single day. To and from school, I sit among the those who go on the smelly train, and deal with hobos, lunatics, and characters. I eat on the train, bang into people with my skooter, which makes me look like some freakish toddler stuck in a 13 year olds body.

I subway surf, and swing around on the subway poles like a deranged monkey. But when I'm seated, I look at people. I know everyone does it. Don't deny it. Everyone just looks at everyone. I can't help it, you can't help it. Strangers are fascinating. You can just look at them, and guess things about them. It's just a subway thing. When you are sitting down, you look at the people around you.

You would be surprised by the number of faces people see each day. Did you know that those unfamiliar faces in your dreams are actually real people? People that you have seen once before in your lifetime? I'm talking every face. Even in the nightmares. I mean imagine you are in the subway and all of a sudden you see a man that resembles the murderer in your dream? It'd be freaky.

I want to start taking notes on the people I see on the train. I want to note the characters I see, the crazy people I see. And if I can, I want to snap photos of them behind my math notebook, and make up their lives. See if I can take the clues from their clothing, hair, facial expressions, age, and just guess what their lives are about. Their occupations. Their hobbies. Everything.

And now, I will do this on my blog. It'd be cool to also have people comment on the blog posts, and tell me how they imagine this persons life to be too. This is just something to do, a little more meaningful then sitting on a computer and playing games, or watching television. Yes, of course this can also be a waste of time. But wasting time is part of being a teen.

So get ready to see my subway buddies.


Food Fight?

How is it June 2nd already? I mean really?

Does it not seem like last month was February to you? School is really starting to fly by. Don't you remember being little? When the school year went by like decades, and everyday was long and fun. But now. Now everyday goes by like a blink of an unaware eye. And when I finally realize what time it really is. And what part of the year it is, and realize what this all means... I am just like, WHAT?

Graduation is in 20 days. Schools out in 26, and there are as little as 15 full school days left.

In 20 days, I am going to officially be a High school student. AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

High school is such a scary word. At least for me. I just remember High school as this place big people went to. I remember entering Middle School and thinking the same thing. I mean, life is going by so fast, I just... It's creepy.

Soon enough I'll be heading off to college, and my little closet sized room will be used for storage. Or for my sister. And then, I'll be off. And be thinking the same thing about Adult Hood. And then, BEFORE I'll know it I'll be a grandma.

I just don't want to miss out on anything. I want to live it all to the fullest. So for the last day of School at NEST +m, this school I have just barely stayed a live at. Just barely held myself back from ripping apart, I want to leave a mark.

I know the High school senior class a few years back let grasshoppers loose in the school hallways, some people lit a garbage can? But all I really want, is a food fight. An organized. CRAZY, food fight. Where I get ketchup in my hair and completely assault my clean Nest shirt. I want to throw a pie at some friends, and receive some back, and I'm good.

I want to arrive at school with horrible hair, and mess it up more. AND. More then most things. I want to throw pies at my teachers. SO what do you sayy??



Just your average Monday

Not caring is one of the best ways to have fun in NYC.

Like getting soaked in a sprinkler with a school of Kindergarten children. And after being soaked running along side the working class New Yorkers of Manhattan.

Or maybe you spill a chocolate icy on your nose, shirt, shorts, and legs. And this is after returning your custard icy when you realized it contained nuts. (And you are deadly allergic)
Or maybe you scream when the icy freezes your teeth. Loud enough so the lady walking her dogs turns her head in fright.
And then of course you laugh.
You laugh. Laugh. LAUGH.

Maybe you are 13. And need to get into the YMCA, because it's HOT out. And you enter the YMCA but the person working the booth is really tough. You try to sneak in, because your friend is a member. Her name is Say - Ruh. She tells him you are going to get a guest pass upstairs if he will just excuse you...
But no. You need to have an adult. So you spend the next hour searching outside for a parent to pretend to be your mother or father for the purpose of just getting in the building. And without luck, you sit on the ground as a teenage hobo. With a chocolate smudged face, shirt, shorts, and legs, with your friend Say- Ruh.

So you finally get in, and you need to be 14. You are secretly 13. But who cares. What does one year differ?

But when you get on the machienes. You are still an imature 13 year old. Maybe if you were 14 you wouldn't close your eyes while on the tread- mill and manage to fall backwards onto a lady ready to go for a swim. Maybe your friend wouldn't start laughing awfully loud while making witch movements on the bicycle, and cause you to laugh uncontrolably.

But maybe you wouldn't have this fun.


Marshmellow Madness

I love Glee. So much.

I'm not a TV person, but this show is SPECIAL. When I watch an episode, I love to try out the songs. See if I can sing them... And honestly, I hardly ever seem to succeed. But I don't really care.

You might not know this, but I love to sing. More then a lot of thing. More then Science of course. More then Social Studies. More then... ice cream. Singing is really just a way to have fun for me. I sing all the time. In the shower, while on the toilet, I sing in the kitchen, and sometimes I don't even realize I am singing. I am just walking around and then all of a sudden my sister will tell me to shut up, and I realise I have been singing for the past few minutes. Oh, and I am also a song maker upper. Kind of...

I like to make up little singy songs when bored.
Like in web design, or music.
For some reason, they all seem to always have something to do with either hamburgers, other types of food, or muffins. (See muffins aren't food, they are people.) Ever heard of muffin films? Oh and then there are marsh mellows. Oh Marshmellows.

Let me make up a catchy tune right now about Marshmellows.
Of course...
You won't be able to hear it.
But I promise you I am making this up on the spot.

THey are like
not yellow
They are so
like mellow
they make me
fly fly
fly fly
like a bird
don't fly too far though marshmellow
or you might die.

That might just be my best work ever.
haha, not exactly...

Okay. Honestly this has got to be the weirdest blog I've got going here. I mean, where am I going with this. I guess if you are reading thing you are a bit confused. but if you know me, you might be slightly giggling. I guess I do this blog, because I don't want to do my homework. Or I do it because, it's kind of fun.

Although it is a bit like opening your diary to the world. I hope there isn't a creepy old marshmellow reading about me. it might be planning its revenge on me, for what I did to its son. Yea, I ate his son.

Okay, you know what I think I should go now. before I start talking crazier then what I already am.



Trust Sleep's for the rest of your life.

I never really understood that jingle, until recently.

The "rest of your life" meaning, the sleeping time of your life.
OR the REST of your life. Like the remaining time in your life.

Good job who ever invented that jingle! :)

Sleepy's is really cool.
I mean you can walk in.
And like try out mattresses.
And usually the attendant is busy and doesn't notice if you take a nap.
I'm sure hobo's do it all the time.
I know I would.

I already do.

Today I took a nap on the king sized bed at sleepy's.
T'was wonderful.
But then the attendant came over




I have done the impossible.
We were in a train. In blackness. Stopped because of traffic. The hobo and me.

I could see the platform before me. But the doors wouldn't open, "This is the last stop." The old man said on the speaker.

The doors didn't budge.

My phone read the numbers 8:08 am.

The hobo started to wake up.

How does the conductor forget to open the door?


The hobo started standing up.


I was talking to a door...

and then,
my magical powers came in.
The impossible.
The magical wonders of Lily.

Abracadabra. I said.

And they opened.


Be free.

What is this world we live in?
Do you ever feel trapped inside a wall of restrictions?
I wish we could just be free.
I need to go berserk one day.
Be the spectacle of the streets.
Throw banana peels at tourists.
Jump in front of cops and scream.
I need to act on impulses.
I need to fly.
Run in the wind.
Run in the rain.
I'm tired of thinking.
Of worrying.
I need to get it in my brain that life is short.
And before something drastic happens, I need to make sure we all understand it.

I need to go to school, and not care what people think.
Be who I am.
Scream randomly.
Jump when excited.
And tell people what I think when I think it.
I need to act,
I need to do what I love.


Grilled Cheese sandwiches

I have to stop eating.

Ever heard of them?

Have you really ever enjoyed one?

The crispy out side. An easy opening. You slide your fingers across the delicious crust. Pull apart one side of the grilled cheese, and the cheese explodes out.

Ahh the joy.

In each beautiful sandwich.

It was probably a bad idea getting a grilled cheese maker.

Yes, grilled cheese lovers.
A grilled.

I'm talking crispy, perfect,
absolutely desirable
grilled cheese sandwiches at your finger tips in under, what's that? A minute?

And being me of course, I took advantage.

This is probably my 4th grilled cheese sandwich today. And I'm not even an obese child.

But who can resist this cheese?
Oh cheese.

I really love it. As many people do.

But see, me... I've got a special case. A special disorder.

Let me tell you, my bones have got to be the strongest in the world for the amount of calcium I intake everyday from CHEESE.

You see, my mom buys it for me. All the time.
She will come home from the food emporium and say, "Oh Lily!! Guess what I've got for you..." Now, a normal human being would most probably expect cookies of some sort, or some nice gold fish, but ahhh not I. No, my mother brings me back a quarter pound cheese for me.
And I enjoy it each and every time.


My BIG Feet

Now I've got some pretty odd feet. Long toes, odd arch, BIG feet. Like honestly, you should be scared.
I'm 13 years old, and I have a size 10 and a half. A size 41 in european shoes.
Does that not sound a bit... frightening?
But honestly, that's not the worst part. You see... one foot is larger then the other.

Take a look.

Those are my nice, floppy, well lived Uggs. Did you notice the odd hole? Yea... That's where my toe would go.

I'm sure you are very confused right now...

Why is this weirdo talking about her feet?
What is this blog...?
What the hell?
or something like...
Okay, EWW?

I'm sure you are wondering this. But what you have to understand is that this is my blog. And I am going to post random things on it. I will show you my random life, friends, teachers, city. I will expose you to an odd world of random, beautiful things, such as santa slippers that jingle when you walk, and quacking pens.

So, if my feet story's bother you. You should probably leave now. I don't think you are strange enough for this blog. :)
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