A Proposition.

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.

Thanks.

Thanksgiving!
I know I'm like four days late. But I've been sick. Give me a break.

You have to understand something about my family. We're weird.
A couple of years ago our Thanksgiving dinner consisted of everyone's favorite food.
What are a few things we had? Pudding. Egg rolls. Chips and salsa. Oranges. Horchata (my contribution). Dr. Pepper. Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches. Swedish fish. Ribs. And much more.
Exciting huh?
Another year we had Thai food. SO good.
So this year, we took it back to 1621 and had a good ole' pilgrim and native american feast.
We went over to my Aunt and Uncle's house and ate our heart's out.
My favorite foods?

My mother's yams. Holy. They are from heaven.

And, my G-Ma's Rolls.
Actually, it was my grandpa that made them. But my grandma likes to take the credit. Strangely enough I approve of her selfish actions. Probably because I know that's how it's going to go down when I'm old and married. (If I do get married and I'm not a nun.)
Also. My dad's side of the family has this small obsession with bums. So I thought this photograph was very appropriate. Not only am I showcasing the rolls. I am also showing off bums. You're welcome.

I love my family.
And I like to express that in a way of cuddling.
Christen, my cousin is like an older sister to me. Unfortunately for me, she does not like to cuddle.

You don't understand how long it took me to get here.
I'm a lover. She's a fighter. Slowly I am changing that though.

Enough about Thanksgiving.

As you know. I was very sick yesterday.
It was gross how sick I was.
Miraculously I feel a ton better today. Did I tell you that both my parents were sick yesterday too? Crazy.
So I wasn't able to go to church today, because I'm kind enough to think of other people, and their healthy bodies. I'm like a saint or something.

I absolutely hate being sick. Is there anybody that actually enjoys it?
I feel like I'm always sick though. There is something wrong with me, all the stinking time.

Being sick stops me from leaving the house. And I'm a pretty social person. I hate being cooped up at the house. Thank goodness for friends. They are what kept me sane yesterday. One of my favorite kids in the entire world, Bryce, texted me, I swear all day. His constant nagging about me going to bed and getting sleep so I could be healthy, made me giggle and kept me entertained. Obviously, I needed sleep, and I got some! I just liked talking to him better than trying to sleep while feeling nauseous. 

Texting a boy that you are completely infatuated with VS. lying in bed staring at your ceiling thinking about vomiting. Which one would you pick? 

Ya. I thought so. 

Another dear friend Nathan. Brought me cookies. Ohhh Nathan. Regrettably I ate one. They were pumpkin chocolate chip cookies! Hello? My favorite kind. He now calls himself the cookie monster. Am I surprised? No, no I am not.

Shoot. I feel kind of sick all of the sudden.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Hopefully it's nothing.
But knowing me, I'll go down stairs, and complain to my mother. And exaggerate about how I'm going to die... But I'm not going to die. Don't worry.

Death is NOT knocking on my door.
-Drama queen.

Dear, you.

Dear insert name here.

Please open up your ear.

And listen to me.

And consider my plea.

Don't do it again.

Don't hurt anymore women.

They don't deserve the pain,

Of having you explain

their imperfections and flaws

while you give them the much needed applause.

You toil with their emotions,

while you go through the motions

of a deserved love

and yet when they are down, you just shove and shove and shove.

Dear insert name here

while with you my self esteem seemed to slowly disappear.

You are a fine actor,

and please consider this small factor

before you go breaking another heart

you don't know what you start.

You said you are sorry

but it was bull, like a safari

going through a petting zoo

I didn't know what to do.

When you told me you loved me

but told me I wasn't good enough for thee.

Change this, change that

Sometimes too thin, sometimes too fat.

Dear insert name here,

Do you know what you did?

Or no, because you are just a kid?

You turned me blue,

and I could think of a lot of words to describe you.

I believe in forgiveness,

as long as you assess,

your actions

and put away those distractions,

those ones you blamed me for.

And open up a new door,

one of happiness and kind speech.

Where your life is a beach

And you can sit there in the sand,

and realize what you have done to me, Sam.

Dear insert name here,

Do you know what abuse means?

It's far more worse that it seems.

Not just sexual and physical,

those are far too typical.

Verbal abuse every heard of that?

How about emotional, or should we have a small chat?

They suck.

And each little word, they struck

a little chord inside my brain

telling me I'm not sane.

I needed you,

nothing new.

But you knew that, didn't you,

every little move was of mine was in your view

One little thing wrong

and I had to sing a sad song.

I was blamed

while you became inflamed.

And I was scared to take one step,

So I sat there and wept.

Dear insert name here.

I'm done with the fear.

I've found another,

And instead of you, I have become the conductor

of my life.

Please handle your own strife

Don't get me involved,

And learn how to resolve

with out hurting me.

And this is my last word to thee.

Insert name here,

I hope that you didn't mishear.

Peachy.

I'm doing peachy.

If you were wondering.

Not great.

Not bad.

Peachy.

"Peachy" Can be used as a replacement for the word fine.

"How are you today?" "I'm pretty peachy."

"Peachy" Can also be used sarcastically.

"You have a zit." "No, really? That's just peachy."

I commonly use the second phrase.

Speaking of zits.

I've always had pretty good skin.

Not gonna lie.

Yes, I am going to admit, I never really washed my face other than in the shower.

A couple of months ago I decided that I might want to wash my face. When I started washing my face, the acne started coming! What they heck! I thought washing your face was to prevent zits! What a joke. I only have like four. But still, that's a lot if you are used to none.

I'm going to go on a little tangent here.

AWKWARD.

I hate that word.

I hate the concept.

I hate the people.

I hate everything that has to do with it.

Yes. I, Samantha Jean, am awkward.

But not like annoying awkward.

I can say some pretty awkward things. And I'll be okay with it.

But when people are being the "dumb" awkward. Then that makes me mad.

If you tell me something, that is kind of important, and yet fail to text/call/contact me afterwards. That's awkward. Especially if we have a class together on Tuesday.

STOP THE MADNESS!

Man up and stop being awkward.

Or I'll be mad. And then you won't even get the chance to be awkward with me.

Contact me! Please.

I'm so confused.

You know why I'm so confused?

Because I'm a teenager.

I'm not proud to be a teenager, because simply put, most teenagers are idiots.

I'm 16 going on 17, I see about 2,000 different teenagers a day. And all I see is a bunch of................ teenagers.

Teenagers don't really get a ton of respect. Because of the idiot teenagers.

Don't get me wrong. Everybody can be an idiot. But there are those teenagers that are just constant, on-going idiots.

Teenagers have everything, but appreciate almost nothing.

Its something you either have been, are, or will be.

So that is why I'm confused.

Because I'm a teenager.

When I'm older, I like to think that life is going to be easier. But I know for a fact that it won't be.

Peachy.

Darn you teenagers!-

Master of the Pan Flute.

In this moment.

Right now I am painting my toenails.

Guess the color.

The person to comment and get it right I'll give you two bucks (if you live close), and I'll write a whole paragraph about you. (No promises it will be nice...Just kidding. I'm a nice person, even if you aren't..)

So there you go.

This weekend has been one that I will remember forever. Not to rub it in your face or anything, but, mine was better than yours. Unless your dead goldfish came back to life last weekend, but if not, mine was definitely better.

Friday. Seriously, anything could happen on Friday and it would still be a good day.

I could have a zit, break my big toe, and have a overly obese man sneeze on me, and Friday would still be a good day.

According to Rebecca Black, Friday is the day after Thursday, the day before Saturday, which comes before Sunday. We also have to wake up at seven, eat cereal, run downstairs, almost miss the bus, and ride in a convertible with a 14 year old driver.

Now doesn't that sound like fun?!

Anyways.. Friday, I went to school. Like every other weekday, I walked from one class to another with a bag on my back weighing more than an overweight cat, see people in the hall and pretend to be happy to see them (kidding), and resist the urge to punch my teachers in the face. Don't get me wrong, the social aspect of school is fantastic. But other than that, and my honors English class, school is just a place for parents to get rid of us for approximately eight hours. After school on Friday, I think I took a nap, I never know when I take naps or not. All I know is that I take naps on a regular basis. And they are awesome. After a nap that I may or may not have taken, I had the best night ever. Myself, and five other friends, went up to the canyon and watched a scary movie on this tiny 9x5 portable DVD player. I almost peed my pants about a billion times. I'm a weenie when it comes to scary things. Okay? I can't really go into specifics but it sure was a darn good time. We had a campfire, and decided we didn't need it. So we put it out. But randomly during the movie, it would start up again. And my "date" (I'm not sure if I would call it a date, but it was just like a date, and he was the one I would hold onto during the scary parts, aka the whole movie.) was the only one brave enough to go outside by themselves and put it out. So here's a shout out to you! Way to be brave.

Ps. It's so hot in my room, and I'm too lazy to go turn on the fan. AND. My phone just died. boo.

Saturday. I was asked to homecoming. That was fun. And totally NOT predictable AT ALL....haha...

He filled up probably like 50-100 little water balloons (with air) and put a piece of paper in all of them. So I popped the first one thinking that it was a clue, puzzle, or his name. But SURPRISE there was nothing on the first one. Laughing to myself, I popped the next one. Surprise again. There was nothing on the paper. There was a reoccurring theme.

I don't think I've been more frustrated in my life. So.

I looked in my closet, and there was THREE big balloons, with a note in one of them. And whoop-dee-doo, it was in there. I spent almost an hour popping little balloons, when all I had to do is look in the closet. Oh the irony. Don't people mostly hide in the closet, but it is the last place most people look? Ugh.

I got him back though, don't worry.

Then I went to a pool party and threatened a girl I was going to punch her in the face. But I was "kidding". Of course. I would never punch anyone.....

Lets skip Sunday. Other than church, naps, and my father making jelly nothing happened.

(Yes, my father does do the "motherly" things in my family, like... baking bread, canning tomatoes, gardening, and making jelly. But don't worry, he likes my mother. Obviously, how else would I be here? Ew.)

Monday. I spent my ENTIRE day responding to my homecoming askee. And it was so worth it.

I got 238 Easter eggs. Yes, 238. 238 people! Filled them up with candy and little phrases such as:

Try again. Hi. Eagle Powers. Go BYU!! (he LOVES LOVES LOVES U of U) Your mom. Tip-toe through the tulips. Booyah. Mr. Carillo. (my personal favorite) Leprechauns love pancakes. I only believe in science. I caught you a tasty bass.

And many many others.

And none of the eggs said yes or no.

So he looked through 238 eggs, and found... NOTHING! woohoo! It's what he did to me, but worse! Eat that. The answer was on a creepy little stuffed bunny in his freezer.

It was soooo hard to find a stuffed bunny. They had stuffed porcupines, and alligators, but nofreakin bunny? Crazy people who create stuffed animals.

So that concludes my Labor day weekend.

Told you it was awesome.

Booyah!-

Farskey.

bones. and black something.

Well, about a month ago, I found myself sliding down the stairs, face first. At the end of the wonderful and painful slide, I laid on the ground for a while, until my ankle started to scream at me. And when I say scream, I don't mean a scream from a normal person, but get ten of me and then ask me: Why I ************. Then take out my insides and let them talk for me. And that scream will be the most powerful scream that will ever touch the delicate hairs inside your ears. That is how it felt, and while lying there, a small tear slowly rolled its way down until it touched the carpet. Now let me tell you a story about this carpet, it is an extremely important carpet, and as soon as the salty tear hit the ground, I lost it. I cried and cried, but my mom was in the car honking the horn (because I was late, as usual.) And it was terrible. I walked on it. And it hurt SO bad! My parents decided to believe me after that little incident. My doctor thought I broke off a piece of cartlidge in my ankle joint. So I used crutches for about three weeks. So I went to a different doctor, and he said it was actually bone that I broke off, and I went to get a MRI. So today the doctor called. Apparently it was an old injury and I did it a while ago. (I'm guessing it was one time while sliding wrong into the base during softball) And falling down the stairs was a "trigger point" which cause my body to actually notice that something was wrong, which caused massive amount of pain. And in order for my ankle to get better is to start walking on it! Which I am happy about because I get rid of the crutches! But if I walk on it then it can build it back up and make it stronger. And if that doesn't work then we have to look into surgery and or physical therapy. They also said that my ankle is always going to be bad and weak. And I have a huge chance of getting arthritis. Great. I don't really care though. I mean, things happen for a reason right? I sure hope so.

Video games. I hate them, so much. The only ones that I have actually found joy from were super old ones, like a Nintendo 64. Those ones are fun! Or any family game, like Wii fit, Mario Cart, Guitar Hero, Wii sports, Mario party, ones like that, ones that people who are any age can play them. What I hate is the "hard core" games that involve shooting, war, killing people, and so on. They are DUMB. And when boys get obsesed with them, oh man. I hate that. They should just go outside and have some real fun! Recently, all my guy friends have gotten OBSESSED over this game. Black Ops. I think that's what it is called. But lately that is all they talk about. "Dude! Get online as soon as you get home!" I think I have heard that key phrase about a billion times in the last week. And it is the most irritating thing, ever. Now I bet all of my guy friends are way sick of my friends and I talking about Justin Beiber or the Notebook, so I guess, this is their way of getting even, unidirectionally.