Drugs.

I'm super scared of needles.
So they gave me laughing gas so that they could fill my cavities. Which I have a ton of. I brush my teeth don't worry. I just tend to snack a lot. 
I'm super sensitive to the laughing gas.  And so this is what you get.
My mother thought I was faking it.
I wasn't.
Actually I don't remember about 90% of this.

Excuse my smile.
-Druggy

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.

Sunday Stalker.

Sunday.
The day you go to church. Or at least, supposed to...
The day you end up doing your homework.
The last day of the week, or the first day of the week.
Is usually ruined by the thought of Monday.
The day to watch football.
No not the dessert. Silly.
The day that Sam gets to wear high heels.

Can I say that I OWN at high heels. I can walk the walk. Let me tell ya.
I'm 5' 9.5". Yes I wear 5" heels. No I don't care that you hate when I wear heels. I love it.
Don't complain about how I'm taller than you. No duh I am. I love wearing them. And Sunday is truly the only day that I can.

This would be me in heels. 

You can't see the heels. But I am in them.

Oh and my family and I have this thing where when ever we see a camera we have our thumbs pop out. I wrote poop instead of pop. No, thumbs don't poop out Sam! Gosh.

Now this is really what it feels like.

I could do anything in heels!

Run, jump, hurdle. I've got it covered! 

Yes. Those are little heels for me. 

I just love them so darn much. 

In fact, they are going on my Christmas list. I'm going to post it soon enough. Don't fret.

I want some sparkly ones.

Ones that blind you with their sparkles. Yup. Those ones.

Sometimes they hurt your feet. 

But sometimes friends hurt your feelings. You learn to forgive. 

My feet have actually become immune to pain resulting from high heels.

Rap I just came up with:

You know those heels?

The ones so high.

Ya they so hot.

They so fly.

BAM.

I wish I could rap.  Actually. I can rap two songs. And if Taylor Swift had some rap songs, I could probably rap those ones too.

So in Honors English we had to write a speech. She gave us the opportunity to talk about WHATEVER we wanted. Complete freedom in my hands? Booyah. 

Side note:

Last year we had to write a speech. I wrote mine about verbal abuse, and can I just say it rocked?! I was docked a point because of how I was dressed. My teacher was super conservative and I guess a lepord print tight pencil skirt did not please her... But other than that. It was awesome!

So I was tempted to just use mine from last year. Kind of a heavy topic and super personal for me. But heck, it was a great speech. So being a good student and all I didn't do what my evil side wanted to do. I ended up writing a whole speech on Facebook stalking. 

On Friday during class, some kids gave their speeches. 

Wow. 

99 percent of them were serious. Ask me if I am nervous to be the black sheep with the non-serious speech. Yes, well kinda not really. I guess I was expecting it. 

Some girl talked about love.

Another about cancer.

Then comes Sam.

"Hi. Um. My speech is about Facebook Stalking."

Sheesh.

I have to present it to the class on Tuesday. 

What a joke.

You may be wondering why randomly I jump from high heels to Facebook stalking. 

Because. I think I have one.

I'm not threatened. Just concerned for my life. Wait. Say what?

Within a week, if I don't post again you will know what happened to me.

Call the cops. Tell them I've been kidnapped by a Facebook stalker. 

And tell everyone that my life has been ruined by Facebook.

Then sue Facebook.

Then Facebook will try to find me so they aren't sued for so much mula.

Then when they find me. 

I'll post again. Don't worry.

I'm going to put alarms around my house.

And I'll wear heels so I can kick them and puncture their calves. Gross...

If I don't return, avenge my death!

-Girl on the go.