Pansy.

Just went tanning for the first time.
Scary? yes.

I don't like small spaces.
It's not like I'm super claustrophobic. But I feel like my fear of small spaces is getting worse as time goes by.
It's just so scary being stuck in a small spot! ahhhh.

In the last two days I've felt a little claustrophobic.

First time was yesterday at my uncle's house.

He has a brand new house. But that brand new house has a flaw. One of the bathroom doors is defective. Little did I know, but you can't lock it or you have major consequences.
So here I am trying to help Bubba wash his hands and flush the toilet. I decided to close and lock the door so that he wouldn't be peeing in front of the whole family. That's a given right? Close the door while you pee. So I tried to help the little guy out. We washed his hands and took the following picture:

We were happy. Life was great.
We're in a bathroom. He just peed. I was just a helpful sister. We love each other. So we took a picture.

I walk towards the door.
See the door in the picture.
I reach for the apparently locked door.
Wouldn't open.
Tried to unlock it.
Guess what.
It wouldn't open.
Frantically I turned the nob about a billion times per second.

Locked. 
"Ummm. We're locked in the bathroom..." I quietly yelled.
I hear an uproar of tall people laughs. Resulting in me banging my head against the door in angst. The bathroom is quite small, yet the walls are extremely tall.
We sat there for about ten minutes while my uncles tried to figure out how to get us out.
Then our picture looked like this.

Here we are. Sitting on our bums on the cold tile.
We were sad.
Bubba kind of has a "I'm eating my lip look".
I think it's safe to say I have a better puppy dog face. Even though he is super cute and if he could correctly pull off a puppy dog face he could rule the world.

A door minus a door handle and about ten minutes later we were free.
So that was small freaky space numba 1.

Numba 2?
The tanning salon.
Need I say I was only tanning for 6 minutes. I was still scared.
NO. I don't need you to lecture me on how bad it is for your skin. I know. That's why I did a special one without the harmful UV rays. Trust me. I thought way ahead.
Anyways. This isn't about my skin cancer filled future.
This is about that small little tanning bed I had to get into.
Laid down and pulled the little thing over me.
I felt like I was a astronaut or something.
Something from a movie where I was going to travel into space, or the unknown. I was scared. And those blue lights did not help. At all.
I was freaking out in there. Counting down the seconds.
And no. That automatic voice saying: "You are now about to have the best tanning experience of you life." Did not provide any sort of comfort.

Yes. I got a tiny color. But I'm at the verge of albino white that I don't think it really helps that much.

So pretty much. I'm becoming a bigger and bigger pansy as time goes by.
Somebody help me.
How do I not become a larger pansy then I am already!?

HELP!-
Pansy.

Just a kiss.

BLOG!

I am so sorry.

I feel like I have deserted you. and for a matter of fact. I know I have.

I wish I had some amazing excuse why it has almost been a week since my last post. But I'm going to be honest. And say I don't. Because... I don't. Make sense?

Oh goodness.

Boys are weird. Really weird. Thus they are attracted to weird people. So that gives you, me. An exceptionally weird girl that weird boys are attracted to. Please don't think I'm saying that I am the hottest girl alive and if they are male, they are obsessed with me. Because I'm not, at all. I'm just saying, some interesting people tend to like yours truly.

I may seem semi normal.

And boys fall for that.

Just like you did.

You are thinking:

Give Sam a camera and she will be like every other human being and take a fantastically awkward picture of them smiling. 

This is exactly what happens to little people of the male gender. Oh. Sam seems like a pretty normal girl. No.

Surprise! This is what you really get.

You really get some pretty interesting pictures. Slightly embarrassing. Yes. But I'm chill. I know I can't say chill. I'm trying to be cool. Please forgive my absurdity.

If we put this into the context of boys liking me. They finally have a moment of realization. Sam scares me.

Boys oh boys. What am I going to do with you?

Sometimes. Silly boys have this epiphany and do nothing about it. They ignore it, exactly how I ignore my math teacher's constant blabing about parabolas. They choose to be eh-okay with my... originality. Poor boys. 

Strangest things that have ever happened to me ever concerning the humans with a lot of testosterone:

1. Get this. We are sitting there. I asked him what he wanted to do. With an ever so slow head turn our eyes met, brown. My favorite. And as my dear dear dear friend would call it, poop color. Though I completely disagree. Feeling awkwardly comfortable, I waited for a reply. His glance kept on bouncing back between my eyes and my lips and I could just feel his nerves. Nothing was said. He started to say something that no boy should ever say. An "ever so smooth" look upon his face came extremely close to mine. "I want to do this" regretfully fell out of his mouth.  His head moved in. I want to do this, I want to do this.  Replayed inside my head over and over within milliseconds. Moments away from his "first" kiss. (A girl had kissed him, but he never made the first move.) Laughter came out of my mouth. I was laughing hysterically while he sat there ever so quietly. Did I feel bad? Yes. Was it funny? HECK YES.

2. Thursday. Yes. Thursday. A week day. I know. Okay. Our school had this charity thing and on Thursday it was Kids in the Cold. Pretty much we stood outside waving signs around until we got an X amount of money for the charity. It was about 11 pm. Austin and I were driving around after the little "freeze our butts off" charity work.  Somehow we started talking about my balcony that is connected to my room. He kept on saying how he thinks he would be able to climb the vines up it. It's winter darling. They are dead. Still being a boy and all, his confidence was through the roof. (Did I mention he is a sophomore. And about two inches shorter than me?) He also assumed that as soon as he got to my balcony I would plant one right on his kisser. I'm not sure why he thought this. When we got there I had to go inside to pee. I drink a whole lot of water. I'm constantly peeing...not gonna lie. He was standing under my balcony contemplating how to master the vines. So I thought he would be okay for a minute outside alone. *A minute later* I walk out. Bam. Austin's gone. Worried. I called his phone. Before he picked up I heard a little noise. I looked up onto my roof and saw him. Please keep in mind my roof is one of the steepest that I have ever seen. Resulting in my house being a loner without lights during Christmas. Lame. He somehow climbed onto my roof. Half monkey? Probably. From the roof he got to my balcony. I had to let him through my room to get out of my house. At midnight. On a weeknight. No. He never received a kiss.

Oh the things boys do for a single kiss!

Today.
I went to Trafalga with my dearest friend. Bryce. Trafalga is a a mini golf place with games, laser tag, and hand sanitizer. My personal favorite. Second round of mini golf we decided to bet. We didn't know what the stakes were, but we didn't want to lose. Unless you were Bryce. He made it painfully obvious that he wasn't going to let me lose. Did I sit there and laugh at him while he "bumped" my golf ball closer to the hole? Yes. I did. Stop being so nice! I'm a tough girl. I can lose. But I was grateful that he cared so much. Did I win? No. Did he say I won? Yes. Who is right? me. Definitely me. We did those little arcade games. Those silly ones that rip you off. The one he was obsessed with? Push a button that drops a ball into some holes with the allotted amount of tickets above him. Jackpot was in his sight. And he was a tiger ready to reach his goal. He would push the button and watch the ball drop, his eyes glowing with the color filled lights coming from the game. He resembled a little kid at a candy store. Or a pervert at Victoria's Secret. I prefer the first one. But it was great. Four dollars later we landed 206 tickets. Booyah. Can I also say that we played laser tag and he was saying how wonderful he was at it before hand. Did I beat him? You can bet your little button I did! He will never live it down.

See. Bryce is at the phase where he thinks I am somewhat normal. As soon as his moment of realization kicks in he will run for hills. I'm going to start taking bets on it.

Na na na na. Hey Hey Hey. Goodbye.
-Swammmay.

Ps. I bet you sang that goodbye didn't you.

I'm sorry Mitch.

Be warned.

Waterproof eyeliner is the most awful thing to ever grace this planet. It hurts when you try to take it off. I swear I just tore out half of my eyelashes.

My emotions. Oh gosh. Crazy. Ask me how much I hate being a girl right now. 

A lot. 

There is one good thing about being a part of the female gender. Can anyone guess what that is? 

Yup. Males. Or. A male. 

What can I say? I'm a regular human being. I like men. They are hot.

Story.

Once. In second grade. There was the handsome little boy named Mitch Murray. I'm pretty sure that was his name, and hopefully still is his name... He was adorable. He was tall and a male. And well, at second grade that was all I really cared about. The tall factor would come and go based on my personal thoughts of that day. It was the second day of my infatuation for this hunk of a second grader. During recess we would take turns chasing each other. My totally intimidating all girl "gang" would take on his totally dreamy all boy "gang". I really do think one of the boys was in a gang! He wore chains on his jeans. It was heaven, and I was in love. One day, I was chasing around Mr. Murray, but this day was slightly chilly. So he was wearing a multi-colored, semi-puffy jacket. And boy oh boy was he handsome. A thoughtless action and ripped hood later, I realized we were never meant to be together. I had ripped his ever so flattering clothing item, and he ripped my heart. 

I was forever crushed.  

Now I'm 16 though.  And, unfortunately for me, yet fortunately for you, I won't be running around ripping jackets. 

Yes. I do have an infatuation. 

No it's not Mitch Murray.

I'm finding myself singing Taylor Swift. 

This is not good folks.

When we sit in the car, sometimes I look over to try and catch a few glances at his flawless skin. Undoubtedly, he sees my sneaky ways, but then he looks at me. And I giggle a little bit, because, he has fallen into my trap. My trap of clearly seducing him. Not really. I swear. I'm like the least seductive person to live. Once, we kissed, I looked up into his eyes and I died a little inside. There is no other blue that could be better than what is inside those eyes.  And I'm usually a sucker for brown eyes, not blue. So this is saying something. 

He knows I'm giddy about him. 

Now. It's up to that young boy.

He could either decide to ignore me. 

Or.

Not.

Hopefully he chooses the later.    

This is my dance. 

My. I'm completely infatuated with this kid dance. 

Yes. I am missing a sock. 

And no. I don't care.

Right now. I don't really care about anything. Thank you very much.

Y'all come back now.

-Giddy girl.

Awkward Mondays.

Most of you know me as Sam.
I know myself as awkward.
Look at these pictures, if they aren't the epitome of awkward then butter my butt and call me a biscuit.
This is what I feel like. My life is being bombarded with books.
Not only books but TEXTbooks. AKA the Hitler of all books.

AP Bio textbook-1267 pages

ASL textbook-183 pages

ASL textbook #2-512 pages

Honors English 11 textbook-1511 pages

Precalc textbook-532 pages

Total: 4,005 pages.

That's one big Hitler.

I love reading.

Just not when it's about stuff like AP Bio.

Here is a little excerpt of my AP bio book:

"The vasoconstriction factor, which Yanagisawa named endothelin, is a peptide that contains 21 amino acids. Two disulfide bridges between cyseines stabilize the peptide structure."

Boring. I know.

Could some handsome man come save me from these textbooks?

I feel as if I am going to be eaten alive, and all I need to survive is Prince Charming

on his trusty steed, Lighting, or whatever his trust steed's name is. To come and

rescue me from being swallowed alive.

I'm ever so slowly drowning in these words of nonsense.

Speaking of men.

Is it possible to become a Mormon nun?

I'm so sick of asking myself the what ifs.

Instead. I'm going to start saying screw it.

I'm 16.

I love life.

Yes. Boys do make it more enjoyable.

But, I'm 16.

Easy as that.

Monday.

The biggest waste of 1/7 of my life. All I do on Monday is...nothing.

It's dreary and puts me in a bad mood.

I HATE YOU.

Sorry I had to be so harsh.

I love you..? No.

Now that I have ineffectively studied for four tests I'm going to try and get some beauty

sleep. Ps. Does it really make you more beautiful or do you just feel prettier because

you got better sleep? Hmm. That's a good question.

Sleep tight.

-Sawkardam.

Hot mess.

Migraines. Love them. For all of you lucky souls that have never experienced them, curse you! All of seventh grade I had them. I missed almost all of third and fourth..What is that word. Half of a semester? I'm literally sitting here, trying to figure this out. Oh wow. I'm embarrassed. I could have just stopped typing, and made you thought that I knew what it is called. But I'm going to be true to you and your mom. TERM! finally.

Anyways...

I missed a lot of school because of these constant migraines. Migraines are pretty much headaches on steroids. They are the most dreadful feeling in the entire world. And makes you want to puke.

This morning.

Whaa Whaa Whaa. My alarm goes off, causing me to wake up from a truly fantastic dream. (Yes, my alarm does sound like that.) My alarm clock is at the foot of my bed, resulting in me leaping on top of it and bitterly pressing the snooze button. BAM. It hit me. After gaining conciseness, my body decided to remind me that I had a migraine. Instead of the sandman who whisks me away to dreamland I get good ole' Migraineman, aka. Satan who makes my veins swell and my head to pound. I roll off of my bed and into the shower. At this point there was no turning back. The shower was on, and I was in it. I had to quickly take a shower, but I felt like everything was in motion. And when I would reach for the shampoo I was actually grabbing that little ball thing. You know that thing with the fabric all bunched up and ahh.. never mind. Well anyways. I grabbed that thing. It was like I was old and on drugs. So I got out of the shower. Got dressed went to downstairs to my parents room. Complained to my mom. Laid down on her bed and was out in a matter of seconds. I woke up, my mom was gone and it was noon. Hallelujah my migraine was gone. I went to school looking like a freakin babe. Let me tell ya.

So that is what I looked like today. Babe status right there. Good thing I don't really care about boys and such. Or else I would be extremely embarrassed. Ps. look at my feet, they are probably whiter than a dentist's teeth.

You should all be jealous of what I looked like today. I mean honestly.

Headband/head wrap thing.

Not sure what to call it. Some people actually think it is a bandage. It's pink! Silly. It just covers up my hair, in order to make it look like less of a mess. But really you know the truth of what is going down under the headband... Chaos. If I took that off, and took out my ponytail all hell would brake loose. I don't just have bed hair, I have bed head. Yes, there is a difference.

Lucky Shirt.

Good things happen when I wear this shirt. I still just have to figure out what that is...

anyways. It's a freakin unreal shirt. I mean look at it! You want to be me.

Jeggings.

Fake jeans. Jeans + Leggings = Jeggings or Leans.... Synthetic tubes in which I force my legs into in order to have the illusion of a ridiculously pair of tight jeans. But in reality, these have become loose, so they lower their status to regular skinny jeans.

Toms.

These rare toms have a hole in the right toe. (I don't know if they are really rare, I doubt they are, but I have never seen another person with them) An extraordinarily comfortable pair of canvas slippers that offer little to none arch support. They are also high end Kung-Fu slippers. They are favorites among people who want to be "hipsters" and yet still kick butt with their awesome Kung-Fu skills.

So yes.

Pretty much I was the epitome of a hot mess.

Cya L8TR

-Sam "Saggie Jeans"

I hope I didn't swear.

The coming of home.

aka.

Homecoming.

Home = School.

Coming = Dance.

Being a teenager and all. I had a blast.

That came out wrong.

Being a teenager doesn't mean you have fun at dances.

It just means that you are prone to have more fun compared to a grandpa, or somebody of "old age". Like my mother.

My mom was talking to me, and she said that I never blog about her, yet I never fail to mention my dad. She told me I had to create a whole blog post about how wonderful and funny she is. Don't get me wrong she is wonderful and funny. So instead of just writing one post about her, I am going to spread it out between many posts. I hope you find this funny Mom, and don't ground me for telling everyone that you force me to say you're nice. I love you.

So being young, not like my mother, I went to the dance.

And it was amazing.

The day started out with us going to PPT.

Progressive

Power

Tumbling.

Which is a place with giant foam pits and trampolines on steroids.

These foam pits are from hell.

Is that swearing?

I sure hope not.

It's like saying that Satan is from hell...

Right?

If it is swearing, please forgive me.

I have good intentions.

Sorry mother.

But seriously. I hate these things. They stick to your body and make you feel like you are slowly being devoured by them. Then you get little pieces of foam in your eyes. And you cry. A lot. Then your make up runs down your face, and you look like one of those creepy clowns at haunted houses. I would post a picture of a clown. But I am too scared to look them up on google.

After this little adventure of foam and clowns we got hot-dogs. These were not just regular hot-dogs. The were about the size of my forearm. I'm a tall girl. So thus I have a long forearm. I didn't even eat the whole thing. And I can down food. I'm pretty much an endless pit. So that was bizarre.

I was dropped off at my humble abode. And did all that girly stuff girls do to look like girls. Then I was picked up to go to my dates' humble abode. We ate dinner. Everyone thought that was the most hilarious dinner ever. Because some dummy decided not to think before they spoke and ended up saying this: "So Trevor, If you are in your underwear can people see inside your house?" For about thirty minutes the whole group tormented and teased this poor dummy. Good thing this dummy is a good sport. This lasted at least thirty minutes. It ended up with this : The "dummy" riding a horse outside Trevor's house with binoculars. I felt bad for that dummy.

We played football. YES. In my dress and tights. Well. I didn't really play football. More like I ran around with a football screaming. so....

We went to a frozen yogurt place called Orange Leaf and got some delicious dessert. Tangled was playing on the T.V.'s there and everyone except for myself was in complete awe about it. Nobody said a word. They just all stared and watched the movie.

Then we went to the dance.

Did I mention I was the second tallest person there?

And my date was the first.

We received the nickname of "Twin towers".

I love high heels.

The dance was the best thing in the history of things.

I wish you could have all been there to experience it.

Trevor and I sang our hearts out, danced our hearts out, and sang out hearts out more.

It all ended at the doorstep, a little kiss on the cheek, and a tired Sam.

(Pictures soon to follow.)

Don't do anything I wouldn't do-

Twin Tower #1.