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.

Here.

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.

Ready?

Go.

Marshmellows.

THey are like

not yellow

They are so

yummy

like mellow

chellow

chilli

silly

billy

mashmellow

ohh

yea

they make me

feel

like

dancing

yea

mashmellows

fly fly

now

fly fly

like a bird

don't fly too far though marshmellow

or you might die.

wow

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.

Sleepy's

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! :)

Yea,

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

hehh

Abracadabra

I have done the impossible.
Today.
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?

OPENNNNNNN.

The hobo started standing up.

OPEN!
OPEN!
OPEN!

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.

These.

Sandwiches.

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.

Cheese.

Maker.

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.

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

Welcome.

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. :)