T-Swift.

Listen to this song, but before you do, go to this website.

Then you know how I feel.

And that's about it.

Darn Taylor Swift.

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.

Addicted.

I have realized that I say "I'm going to punch you in the face" too much.

And by too much I mean every other sentence.

I really am not a violent person.

So I don't really get why I say it.

All

The

Time.

I'm not really a negative person. Except for lately, I've been in a bad mood for approximately three weeks. And if you are one of my closer friends you should be able to guess why.

And man is it hard.

I must admit, I'm addicted to something.

That something is from heaven, I swear by it.

Dr. Pepper!

My one true love in life.

Hello.

It has 23 flavors.

Doctors say to drink it.

I say to drink it.

And I'm a doctor when it comes to...

love.

Kidding.

Obviously. I am no doctor of love. I mean really, look at my situation right now. I would not call that perfect. It's good don't get me wrong. But I do not, NOT want to be in this situation, if it was up to me. I would have my parents be Indian and have them arrange a marriage for me. Now doesn't that sound like fun? Maybe. To some people. Right now. It is tempting.

Back to the DP.

So I am addicted. Is that bad?

Yes. Why yes it is dear reader. This is very bad.

I, young Sammie Jean.

Daughter of Rich.

Tormentor of young children.

Am addicted to this drink.

After the Developmental Center today I ran to 7-11. And got a giant DP. mmm. Delicious. This drink was probably bigger than my head. Bigger than your head. And bigger than the Vice Principal at my school with no hair and a big head. And trust me, his head is HUGE and bald....

I drink it all the time.

Darla? (My car)

Is full of them.

She is going to get fat unless she stops caring them around.

Silly Darla.

I envy this couple!

I know it is super stalker status to put this picture up. But I found it online and it's amazing! I want my engagement/wedding pictures by a Dr. Pepper sign. I have an amount of jealousy that is not safe for one human to have right now at this moment. Whoever these people are... I love them!

Well. Maybe one day I will stop drinking them.

HAHA. Doubt it.

May the force be with you-

Madeline.

S.O.S.

It is 11:15.

And for whatever reason my brain thinks this is a perfectly good time to be blogging.

See. I was in my bed. All nice and warm. With my IKEA comforter on me, you know, the way comforters comfort you. Then me and my brain started a little convo:

Brain: Sam.

Me: Hello?

Brain: My name is Brain, and I live inside your skull.

Me: Yes, I know that. I learned about you in first grade.

Brain: Good. Well I have an idea. Write a blog post.

Me: No way. I have school tomorrow.

And that is exactly how it went down. So I couldn't stop thinking about it. And to relieve the constant thoughts of blogging, I had to blog. Darn it.

Scariest thing ever.

I was about to type, I looked up at my balcony door. BAM. There is a vine, no scratch that, TWO vines growing into my room.

That is one of my biggest fears ever. Being strangled to death by plants.

If you are a smart kid, then you have read Harry Potter. During the first book, the trio comes along a plant called devil's snare. AND IT KILLS YOU. sheesh. that is going to happen to me.

So if randomly my post looks something like this:

HElpsdfasdfWJE!#4 adrdogaj sdiogt 'AWETAGdaf dsfjaei3ty[ 2i3ujwnef.

That means the vine took me away to swallow me whole. Like in Jumanji, ya know?

Lately I have been having the strangest dreams. My one last night was about me being a different person. Jonah, in fact. And I just drove around making the strangest face while staring at people. The night before I had this dream that I was on a plane and they would keep on giving me a different drink than what I ordered. One was actually about Dr. Pepper.... yum. Another dream was about my experience of riding Shamu. The giant killer whale. I love him.

So tonight I probably will have a very interesting dream. I'll keep you posted.

G'night-

Sam and Eggs

The ugly one in the corner.

This raccoon and I have something in common.

Can you guess it?

The dark spots under our eyes would be the correct answer.

I think high-school is going to be the death of me. *correction* AP Biology, Chemistry, Honors English 11, and Pre Calculus will be the slow excruciating death of me. I don't think I've ever been more tired. Not even when I had that atrocious illness called Mono.

Yesterday I went to the Developmental Center. Can I say how much a ADORE these people? I've been there for about a month, and I already know how amazing and inspirational they are. I will talk to them and my heart aches because of how much I love them.

David. Oh man. Even the thought of him makes me smile. He loves touch, because he is half blind, so touch him for a minute and he will never let go. I wish I could show you how he dances in his wheel chair. It's so darn cute. He puts his hands up next to his face, closes his eyes, sticks out his lips, and moves his head to the left and right.

I bet you are doing that right now. Aren't you?

So the Developmental Center was great. But I got home and did homework, and a whole lot of it. About five hours. Which is NOT including the stuff I did before I left to the DC. the consequence of the choice of being a good student ? I almost fell asleep multiple times in every single class, including lunch. Doesn't sound like a good student does it? Don't worry I am. Or. Not. Maybe I'm just good at sweet talking my teachers. Booyah.

I think this is some sort of disease that comes along with being a teenager:

Endless desire to sleep.

So me.

Being so tired. I took a nap.

Resulting in : Dark circles under my eyes (isn't sleep supposed to fix this?!), the epitome of bed head, and my eye make up covering my entire face.

This is not a good look. For anyone. Not even my Grandma.

And trust me. I have a hot grandma.

Think of Lindsay Lohan, when she is her "I'm going to get drunk and go to jail, not so hot" look. And you will find a better looking me.

Stupid sleep. Why do you do this to me?!

Is this meant to be a love-hate relationship?

I love you, but all you do is torment me with dreams about mutant babies and never-ending car trips; then you make me look like a raccoon.

And a raccoon is not very appealing to most people.

Unless that person is a raccoon, then things would just get awkward and go downhill from there...

Like a fat girl at a dodge ball game, I'm out!-

Spammer.