Ah, Summer.

Marissa's Attempt at Cleaning Her Room, Part Deux:
I ventured deeper into the room, pushing past the vines to glance at the walls, which were painted a sort of Pepto Bismol pink, only even more nauseating to look at, if you can believe it.
It has been awhile since I've been in my room, I thought, scowling.
When did I stop liking the color pink? 5?
And is that a N'Sync poster I spy?
Curious.
If I am not mistaken, they stopped being popular before I was born...
I took a moment to stop and glare angrily at Justin Timberlake's faded, smarmy face.
"Your songs are atrocious, and your acting is even worse." I said aloud to the poster.
His smile seemed to dim a bit from my unkind words, and his eyes, usually devoid of any sign of intelligence, seemed to grow slightly sharper.
I didn't think anything of it at the moment, simply shrugging it off and continuing onward, straightening my safari hat a third time.
When I was finally satisfied with the straightness of my headgear, a sudden eerie wind came from behind and knocked it clean off, blowing it underneath a nightstand.
Well crap, I thought. That was my favorite hat, and now it's probably being devoured by the dreaded Chapeau Mangeur that often lurks underneath bedroom furniture.
As I pondered how my hat could've got knocked over by the wind whilst indoors, I heard laughter. Prententious laughter that could have only come from one person. A certain fallen pop star...
"Justin Timberlake," I whispered as realization dawned.
"Baby, bye, bye, bye." the poster said, suddenly in front of me, and then I blacked out.

(Oho. Suspense.)

Procrastination, Part Deux

So, my outline for my career speech is due tomorrow, and I am wondering what to write.
I was debating on going along with being a truck driver and somehow turning my previous sardonic blog post into a speech, but eventually decided against it. (Mostly because I could not acquire a sleeveless flannel shirt and trucker hat in time for my speech 6th period.)
Alors, due to these unfortunate circumstances, I am going to write about what I would actually enjoy doing for a living. Being a writer.
Ironically enough, though, I am having difficulty writing about my future writing.
I am tempted to just stand in front of the class and say something along the lines of "I LIKE WRITING, DURR.", but there's no possible way I can stretch that out into a 3-5 minute speech.
Well. I mean, it's possible.
But it wouldn't really be coherent.
"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii *inhale* liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkeeeeeee *inhale* wrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggg, *inhale* durrrrrrrrrrr. *inhale* Any questions?"
...I'm sure there would be a lot of questions if I were to say that. As well as phone calls home. And trips to the Guidance Office.
Which means I must actually work on this speech.
Which means I shall have to bid you all adieu.
So, adieu. Auf Wiedersehen. Sayonara. Adios. Das vidania. Ood-gay ye-bay. Etc.

My New Career Path.

So, recently, I had to take a career assessment test.
Take a guess as to what "the best career path" was for me.
I'll give you a moment to think about it.
...No, I'm not going into prostitution.
Honestly, you don't know me at all, Voice-in-my-Head.
Actually, according to this placement test, one of my best career paths would be a truck driver.
So, it is because of this test that I have decided to give up creative writing and pursue my career in the art of trucking.
I have also decided to replace all the tops in my wardrobe with sleeveless flannel shirts, and acquire myself a southern accent/beer belly.
I'm thinking about acquiring a driving license as well. It seems like it would be a good idea.
I'll live a simple life on the road, chewin' tobacco, and spittin' it out the window onto the poor unsuspecting passengers in convertibles. (Notice I'm workin' on the accent.)
So, dear sweet Blog, and dear sweet Blog readers, I must bid you adieu, for a new life awaits.
A new life life of driving big rig trucks and belching loudly at small children.
That's the good life, my friends.
Adieu.

(Unnecessary Note: Hopefully, all of you can detect sarcasm, but for those unfortunate souls that cannot, I shall tell you that I am not, in fact, being serious. I mean, the test people did assign "truck driver" as a possible career path [idiots.], but I am certainly not planning on giving up writing because of it. Honestly, though, how in the name of The Fonz did they get truck driver from "enjoys reading, writing, and personal hygine?" Gah! ...But anyway. I am glad we got that cleared up. Adieu a third time, Blog readers.)