A few small repairs

So yeah, I’m not really in love with the direction this blog seems to be going.

Therefore I’ll be making a few small repairs, probably deleting some below-par posts, adding some pages, you get the idea.

Anyhoo, I’d love for some suggestions, whether you’re a regular reader (ha! yeah right!) or just casually passing through (probably to learn how to disconnect your phone, eh?) give me some ideas, hints, tips, suggestions, random knock-knock jokes, advice, fortune-cookie quotes, etc.

Muchas gracias. :]

Title comes from “Sunny Came Home” by Shawn Colvin

 

Booyah!

I just got my SAT scores back. Yeah, I’m quite pleased with them.

Verbal: 700 Math: 710 Writing: 680

Yeah!!!!!! I then found this awesome thing on blogthings.com

Your SAT Score of 1410 Means:

You Scored Higher Than Howard Stern You Scored Higher Than George W. Bush You Scored Higher Than Al Gore You Scored Higher Than David Duchovny You Scored Higher Than Natalie Portman You Scored Lower Than Bill Gates Your IQ is most likely in the 130-140 range Equivalent ACT score: 32 Schools that Fit Your SAT Score: Amherst College Dartmouth College Williams College University of Pennsylvania Columbia University

What Does Your SAT Score Mean?

 

My perfect Tuesday

Yesterday was simply the epitome of perfect. Really, I couldn’t have asked for more. The Monday that the boyfriend and I spent together put us in such an awkward place; and come Tuesday morning, I wasn’t sure where we stood on things. After hitting my snooze button a few times, my mom asked whether or not I was going to school. I told her I wasn’t feeling entirely well and didn’t have any classes until nine, so I’d prefer to drive myself and could I pretty please possibly have the car keys so I could do so. She yelled about god-knows-what for a bit before telling me they were on the island in the kitchen and I was to give them back that evening.

So at around 6:15ish it dawned on me (pun intended) that there was no way in hell that I was getting back to sleep. So I jumped in the shower, got dressed,  and then texted the boyfriend:

Me: So I don’t have to be to school until nine-ish, what do you have first period?

Boyfriend: Study hall. Why?

Me: Wanna do breakfast someplace?

Boyfriend: Good idea.

And that is how I found myself driving to his school to pick him up. The restaurant that we decided to go to was on the other side of the neighboring town, (about 15 or so miles away) and as we were pulling into the parking-lot of said restaurant, I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already 8:00. Shit.

This is when I got the brilliant idea of calling myself in tardy. (The boyfriend didn’t have to be back until ten thirty, but he did have to be back, neither of us could’ve gotten away with skipping the entire day.) So after successfully convincing the office secretary that I was in fact my mother, and that my daughter would be arriving at the school at around ten o’clock for third block after a doctor’s appointment, Boyfriend and I headed inside to eat a delicious home-cooked breakfast, and to talk a little bit about things between us. Mmmm.. greasy breakfast food: soo good.

We somehow ended up at the local Wal*Mart walking aimlessly around the aisles goofing off, tossing around frisbees, browsing the camping supplies, exchanging random stories, etc. It was nice in its own weird way.

Before bringing him back to his school we headed over to my house so that I could grab my work shirt out of the washer machine to hang on the clothesline.  We took full advantage of having an empty house all to ourselves and fooled around a bit on the couch. It was sweetly affectionate.

I then drove him back to school, exuberantly happy with the time that we spent together.

My remaining two classes (Physics & Spanish) seemed to fly by. I was in a perfect mood. About five minutes before the final bell rang, I began to think, “Well, breakfast was so excellent, why stop there?” And so, once again, I texted my boyfriend..

Me: Are we hooking up this afternoon?

Boyfriend: Do you want to? Will you drive me home, or what?

Me: I have to be to work at five, but sure.

Boyfriend: Okay then, come pick me up.

So I once again found myself in the student parking-lot of his school. I saw some of my friends that go to his school and talked and goofed off for a bit while I waited for him. When he did finally make it outside, I then got to meet some of his friends that I had yet to meet. (Wow, awkwardly phrased sentence; um yeah.) The boyfriend commented to a mutual friend of ours that he was going to “Hit that” this afternoon. I replied that hell yes he was going to!

We drove the twenty-ish miles to his apartment (He’s in the process of moving, so he’s currently attending a school in a different town, hence the need for a ride home.) and spent the afternoon talking, cuddling, and of course, having sex. Really, really good sex.

It was perfection after a month of not being able to spend any quality time together.

And on my way to work that evening, all I could think was, “Damn, this is the way that it should be.”

 

My life in a tickertape

So yeah, I haven’t updated in what seems like forever. I’ll try to get back in the habit of updating more regularly. But for now, I’ll just hit you with the highlights; CNN tickertape style.

Prom was great… Slit up side of prom dress was more revealing than planned… Got kicked out of physics class for having “attitude” after teacher refused to answer a simple question concerning the lab… Boyfriend visited on Monday… Took AP English test on Wednesday, asked proctor for a cyanide tablet… Went to amusement park for a “Physics Day” on Thursday.. Was lectured by the head of the science department for disagreeing with my physics teacher… considered calling head of the science department a mindless prick… reconsidered due to the fact that my mother was sitting next to me… went to a college visit on Friday… forced to dress up and wear heels for said college visit by mother… almost orgasmed a little when returning to my Birkenstocks after a long day in heels… traded in Birkenstocks for a pair of closed-toe-shoes and headed off to work… crazy crazy crazy night on take-out at work, lots of humongous orders involving lots of desserts… desserts are made entirely by take-out girls (read: me)… chatted on phone with boyfriend after work… the end.

Yes, I am aware of how grammatically incorrect the previous paragraph(?) is. However, I don’t really feel like editing out the passive voices.

 

Sexual harrassment much?

So I’m allowed to go to prom… yay!!!! This is fantastic news for me. Especially seeing as prom is on Saturday and my boyfriend already spent over $100 renting his tux.

Here’s the catch. I’m not allowed to wear a thong.

Who created this rule? My father.

Why? Because only prostitutes wear thongs.

And how is this being enforced? He is going to check to make sure that I’m not before he drives me to prom. (Yes, he really is drivng me to prom.)

I’m pretty sure that considering my age, this could qualify as sexual harrassment. I am so angry/offended/pissed/hurt/irate/(__insert_word_here__).

It’s my ass, I’ll adorn it with whatever the fuck I want to. Am I right or am I living in the nineteenth-century Bible Belt?

 

Baby, you know I’m just your typical fuck-up.

God I can be such a fuck-up.

I should probably stop holding back resentment towards the people who cause problems in my life… instead of taking it out on the innocent bystanders; the few who love me.

Sorry, baby, but you know that I’m just your typical fuck-up.

 

Ouch.

#367,652,319) Ashley has just taken the SATs. Is she:

a) dead

b) tired

c) souless/heartless/brainless (the SATs ate them.)

d) sore

e) all of the above

 

 

 

Monday night and the remainder of the week

Upon arriving home Monday night, my mother took my car away and grounded me for life. She then called my Dad, yes, the same guy with whom she rarely if-ever communicates.

Apparently I am “out of control” which justifies the two-hour lecture about my behavior (read: screamfest as to why I’m a terrible, ungrateful, bratty, arrogant, bitchy slut. Thanks, Mom and Dad, I was wondering how you felt about me.)

God, turning eighteen can’t come soon enough.

Let’s just leave this story to rot away in the dirt.

 

Spiderman, Spiderman

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 80% Superman 75% Wonder Woman 67% Batman 60% Green Lantern 60% Hulk 60% Supergirl 57% Robin 50% Iron Man 45% The Flash 40% Catwoman 30%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

 

Sunday and Monday

So Sunday I worked for a majority of the day. I left my house early for work because I didn’t feel like taking the risk of seeing my mother– she’s been especially pissy lately. I’m not sure why, but it seems to have to do with the loss of control she has over me since getting my license. Anyhoo, I left for work about an hour earlier than I normally would and sat at the McDonald’s on the way to my work. I sat there for about an hour or so, drank some iced-coffee (was quite terrible, actually; way too much cream), ate a fruit and yogurt parfait (not bad, once you get past how un-fresh the fruit probably is), and read The Fountainhead.  She called me a few times to holler about me about god-knows-what. I asked her if I could stay at my Aunt’s house that night. She said she’d think about it

After getting out of work, I called her and asked if I could go. She said that I could, but that I needed to drive home first and then she would drive me there. I asked why, as it would be a huge waste of gas money, and a major inconvenience to my Aunt. (The original plan had been that I would drive to my Aunt’s house, stay the night and then drive myself to work from my Aunt’s house. My Aunt lives 32.8 miles away from us -one way- according to google maps. My Aunt also works at the local hospital and would have no way to get me to work the next day.)

My cousin was going to have dinner at her boyfriend’s house that night after he got out of work. Her boyfriend lives about 5 minutes or so away from my boyfriend. When I called my Aunt to see if I could stay at her house, we figured that I could hang out at my boyfriend’s for a bit, and then when she drove over to pick up my cousin, she’d swing by my boyfriend’s and I could follow her to their house. See, mom, no nighttime driving alone in the city in which I was raised.

After explaining all of this to my mom, she hung up on me not once, not twice, ladies and gentleman, but four times. Four times after yelling and screaming and carrying on at me, she hung up on me. The fourth time she did so, I got incredibly frustrated and said screw it and drove to my boyfriend’s house.

I called her when I got there, I called her when I left, I called her when I got to my Aunt’s house. She knew exactly where I was at all times.

She told me that I had to come home after work on Monday night. I did just that and God, what a mistake that was.

 

Lo siento

So it’s been a while since I’ve updated… a long while. And not to make excuses, but my life has gone to hell recently. I’ll break it up into a few blog posts for your viewing pleasure.

Let’s just put it this way for now: it has possibly been the worst Spring Break of my life.

 

Score!!! (literally)

So it’s been a while since I’ve updated… My bad!

Anyhoo, I got my license today!!!!!!!!! Yeah, as you can tell, I’m still quite excited about that. After getting it, I dropped my mother off at the house so she could get her car and drive back to work, filled up my gas tank (ouch!!!) and then started on the 25 miles to the boyfriend’s apartment.

Let’s put it this way: I pulled off what is normally a twenty-minute drive, in the time of “American Pie” by Don McLean. For those of you not familiar with this song, (Where the hell have you been? Neptune?) the song is about eight-and-a-half minutes long. Go me.

Oh what I’ll do for a sex-filled afternoon.

 

Oh thank goodness.

So Monday starts the final quarter of my junior year of high-school. All I can say is, “Thank fucking goodness.”

I am so friggin’ burned out.

On the plus side, I had a much-anticipated sex-filled afternoon with the boyfriend.

Nothing like sex to make you more motivated to do your pre-calculus homework.