Ashley is my little sister. Keyword: little.
I had many different names for this blog picked out, such as, Times Have Changed, OR, Eleven Going On Sixteen. But, I think the one I picked suites this blog nicely.
Anyways. Tonight I had the pleasure of going with my dad to pick up my sister and her friends from their "Crazy Friday Night Party". Actually, it was at an ice skating rink, but it was packed just like a party. When I walked in, I was expecting a sign out sheet, maybe a few friendly snacks, and a nice circle of middle schooler's singing songs. I now learned to not set my expectations so high. There were kids EVERYWHERE. Girls hanging off of boys, a few hugs in the mix, annnnnd,m one boy had his arm around another girls neck. The kids, well the word "kids" is not suited here. The kids-who-think-they-are-teenagers, were not in a circle singing songs, they were all in little clicks chatting away. The juice boxes they should have been drinking were substituted in with Red Bulls, and the sign out sheet was nowhere to be found. I thought I was in a club.
Some of the girls in this "club" were dressed in very tight, skinny jeans and sparkly boots. They had V-necks that met their bellybuttons, and jewelry that was a bit too flashy. First of all, when I was their age, overalls were the coolest thing. EVER. Second, my favorite shirt had a pony on it, not the words "Hollister".
When I walked in to this so called "ice skating rink", my sister and her friends were talking to boys! BOYS! As in males. Yes, I know exactly what you are thinking. "At their age?!?" I know, I know. Ashley always comes home and tells me scandalous stories about the people in her classes, relationships. "Oh, well so-and-so broke up with him because she wasn't in the same second period class." Or, "Yeah, they broke up. It's no biggie, she got a new boy." This is middle school, yes I know. And, yes, I am baffled too.
As I was bending over to take off my shoes when we got home, I slowly raised and looked up to a 5'6" girl. Now, me being 5'4", I was shocked. I keep telling myself I am going to grow in many ways, but I know I am not going to. This girl was tall, and very "chesty", if you know what I mean. I immediately rolled my eyes, and walked into the kitchen. Stop eating whatever you middles schooler's are eating, or give me some! I need to grow!
After that incident, I walked into the kitchen to get a drink. For some odd reason, they all followed me like I was their master. They were all staring at me with wide open eyes, which made me notice one girls eyes were very dark. "Are you wearing....MAKEUP?!?" What is happening? Does anyone else feel alarmed about this? I don't even wear makeup, and a sixth grader is? What. The. Heck. If they are only four years younger than me, then in four more years, second graders will be wearing makeup. And, then in the year twenty-thirty, preschoolers will be wearing makeup! It's basic math, and logic.
Ashley is my little sister. And, now she is my closely watched, little sister. Keyword: closely watched.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Papa-Paparazzi.
The other day while I waited in line to be cashed out at Walmart, I stumbled upon the magazine rack. Every time I am waiting in line, I always take a quick look to see what is going on in the "Celeb" world. As I look through, I notice that my favorite actress was faking a pregnancy, Lindsay Lohan is in jail, again, and my favorite celebrity couple is going through marrige "differences".
After reading all the juicy and personal details about the celebrities, I flip through the pages past the advertisements and the clothing of the year. I come to a stop at the section titled, "They are JUST like us!".
There, you see a picture of Justin Bieber getting pulled over, Lady Gaga tying her own shoe, and Taylor Swift steeping out of her front door. Oh. Em. Gee. They are just like us?!? That's absurd! After you get over how "they" are just normal people, you see pictures of Jennifer Aniston through her front window, making coffee.
As I stood in the middle of a check out line, looking at the celebrities only one thing crossed my mind.
"What would happen if paparazzi was taking pictures through my front window? What if TMZ really saw what happened in the four walls that keep me safe?"
That would be a problem.
I could see it now. My family would make the front page of every magazine in the check out line. People would be wondering why my little sister was standing on top of a table, beating on her chest like a monkey. Or, why my dad was running around the house screaming.
The article about us would be long, maybe a four pager. People would look at pictures of us all laying on the living room floor wrestling, or playing a heated game of Monopoly. They would be amused by the pictures of us all throwing pillows at each other, or how my little sister is on top of me. The next page would be about how my dog would rather have a treat over sitting and staying. Under that would be a picture of my dad chasing my sister and I around the dinner table with a spatula. People would laugh at our embarrassing pictures.
TMZ would make a fortune just on one family, alone. They would already have titles picked out for the articles to come such as, "The family who clearly has issues.". Or, "You thought your family was weird? Read this article!"
Readers would be amused by the pictures of me dancing and singing around the house. Or, the occasional "attempt" of the worm by my dad.
After thinking about this, I will no longer be looking at the "They are JUST like us!" page. I will keep my head down, and just nonchalantly pass my mom the groceries. I am glad I am not famous.
After reading all the juicy and personal details about the celebrities, I flip through the pages past the advertisements and the clothing of the year. I come to a stop at the section titled, "They are JUST like us!".
There, you see a picture of Justin Bieber getting pulled over, Lady Gaga tying her own shoe, and Taylor Swift steeping out of her front door. Oh. Em. Gee. They are just like us?!? That's absurd! After you get over how "they" are just normal people, you see pictures of Jennifer Aniston through her front window, making coffee.
As I stood in the middle of a check out line, looking at the celebrities only one thing crossed my mind.
"What would happen if paparazzi was taking pictures through my front window? What if TMZ really saw what happened in the four walls that keep me safe?"
That would be a problem.
I could see it now. My family would make the front page of every magazine in the check out line. People would be wondering why my little sister was standing on top of a table, beating on her chest like a monkey. Or, why my dad was running around the house screaming.
The article about us would be long, maybe a four pager. People would look at pictures of us all laying on the living room floor wrestling, or playing a heated game of Monopoly. They would be amused by the pictures of us all throwing pillows at each other, or how my little sister is on top of me. The next page would be about how my dog would rather have a treat over sitting and staying. Under that would be a picture of my dad chasing my sister and I around the dinner table with a spatula. People would laugh at our embarrassing pictures.
TMZ would make a fortune just on one family, alone. They would already have titles picked out for the articles to come such as, "The family who clearly has issues.". Or, "You thought your family was weird? Read this article!"
Readers would be amused by the pictures of me dancing and singing around the house. Or, the occasional "attempt" of the worm by my dad.
After thinking about this, I will no longer be looking at the "They are JUST like us!" page. I will keep my head down, and just nonchalantly pass my mom the groceries. I am glad I am not famous.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Blank My Dad Says.
As I was thinking about this blog overtime, it came to my attention that my title is a television show. Except the word "Blank" is substituted in for the word, well, you probably know what it is. And, NO! I will not say it.
Anyways.
The that CBS television show is about a struggling writer and blogger, can no longer afford his rent, so, he is forced to move back in with his father. As time goes on, the son can not focus with all the (insert bad word here) he says. This reminds me of my life.
My dad is a great man. He is brave, stylish, and very random. He says things one couldn't think of saying. Just like men, sometimes he acts up, which results him into becoming an eleven year old again. But, I am okay with that because 1. He says the funniest things. 2. All my friends are, like in love with him. And, 3. Well, he acts like a crazy person, and I like that!
Sometimes he says things like, "You young Whipper-snappers are just crazy with all your hip lingo. What exactly are you saying? It's just a mixture of random letters, BRB TTYL G2G. What? Can't you just say be right back, or talk to you later?"
Sometimes he will send me random pictures of things throughout the day with a message like, "I saw this car, and I thought of you immediately.". That message came with a picture of an ice cream truck. Like I said, he is RANDOM!
Sometimes my mom will say "Oh, I have to Whatchamacallit" and then my dad will answer with, "Ewwwww, that sounds gross!" Or, "Oh, my, gosh! That sounds like fun! Can I come along?"
Sometimes I will be in the worst mood, and he will "attempt" to cheer me up by telling jokes like, "Do you know why the chicken crossed the road?". I will answer, muttering "Why, dad?". And, then he just won't answer, or he will say something idiotic like "Because he did, stop nagging me!".
These are just some "Blanks" my dad says on a day to day basis. I'm not a writer who can't afford her rent, but I'd I was, I would probably ask a friend if I could live with them. If they question me about why I am not living with my parents, I will say "Because of the Blanks my dad says".
Anyways.
The that CBS television show is about a struggling writer and blogger, can no longer afford his rent, so, he is forced to move back in with his father. As time goes on, the son can not focus with all the (insert bad word here) he says. This reminds me of my life.
My dad is a great man. He is brave, stylish, and very random. He says things one couldn't think of saying. Just like men, sometimes he acts up, which results him into becoming an eleven year old again. But, I am okay with that because 1. He says the funniest things. 2. All my friends are, like in love with him. And, 3. Well, he acts like a crazy person, and I like that!
Sometimes he says things like, "You young Whipper-snappers are just crazy with all your hip lingo. What exactly are you saying? It's just a mixture of random letters, BRB TTYL G2G. What? Can't you just say be right back, or talk to you later?"
Sometimes he will send me random pictures of things throughout the day with a message like, "I saw this car, and I thought of you immediately.". That message came with a picture of an ice cream truck. Like I said, he is RANDOM!
Sometimes my mom will say "Oh, I have to Whatchamacallit" and then my dad will answer with, "Ewwwww, that sounds gross!" Or, "Oh, my, gosh! That sounds like fun! Can I come along?"
Sometimes I will be in the worst mood, and he will "attempt" to cheer me up by telling jokes like, "Do you know why the chicken crossed the road?". I will answer, muttering "Why, dad?". And, then he just won't answer, or he will say something idiotic like "Because he did, stop nagging me!".
These are just some "Blanks" my dad says on a day to day basis. I'm not a writer who can't afford her rent, but I'd I was, I would probably ask a friend if I could live with them. If they question me about why I am not living with my parents, I will say "Because of the Blanks my dad says".
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Hostess With The Mostess.
Did you hear that the company Hostess filed for bankruptcy? Well unfortunately, it is true.
Today my mom was "The Hostess With The Mostess".
Our family friends were over today, which is always a blast for my sister and I because they are boys. They play "ruff", they are not afraid to slap shot on girls during a heated game of mini sticks, and the best part, they eat A TON! On that note, my mom had to make sure we had enough food for lunch. She ordered out from a place called Page's Paradise Island. For those who don't know what the "Paradise" holds, I can sum it up for you. Page's is a children's place. It has an indoor pool in it, a arcade room, lasertron, and a rock wall. It sounds fun, but believe me, it smells like sweat and chlorine from the second you walk in, until you decide to leave. (Which, by the smell, will be very soon.) There are little kids running around barefoot, dripping water everywhere. It is just a fiasco. (Vocab word!)
The only reason why we decided to order from there is because my neighbor generously gave my sister and I gift cards for helping him. My mom thought it would be a good idea to buy takeout with them, instead of using them to go inside and embark on that journey.
When my mom was gone for almost an hour, I wondered what she was doing. But, to my surprise, she was taking a journey into the Hostess store. When she came home she told us the whole story about how the worker named Nancy was just handing her things for cheap prices.
"Nancy just kept putting things in my cart, telling me offers I couldn't refuse!"
Long story, short. My mom came home with four boxes of strudels, five boxes of pies, two boxes of cupcakes, one box of Twinkies, four boxes of Zingers, four loafs of bread, four boxes of doughnuts, and some small individually wrapped goodies that Nancy kept throwing into her cart. Talk about a lot of sweets. After us kids cleaned up our drool that was falling from our opened mouths, we quickly picked out what dessert we wanted and indulged ourselves into a Hostess adventure.
Today, my mom truly was The Hostess With The Mostess.
Today my mom was "The Hostess With The Mostess".
Our family friends were over today, which is always a blast for my sister and I because they are boys. They play "ruff", they are not afraid to slap shot on girls during a heated game of mini sticks, and the best part, they eat A TON! On that note, my mom had to make sure we had enough food for lunch. She ordered out from a place called Page's Paradise Island. For those who don't know what the "Paradise" holds, I can sum it up for you. Page's is a children's place. It has an indoor pool in it, a arcade room, lasertron, and a rock wall. It sounds fun, but believe me, it smells like sweat and chlorine from the second you walk in, until you decide to leave. (Which, by the smell, will be very soon.) There are little kids running around barefoot, dripping water everywhere. It is just a fiasco. (Vocab word!)
The only reason why we decided to order from there is because my neighbor generously gave my sister and I gift cards for helping him. My mom thought it would be a good idea to buy takeout with them, instead of using them to go inside and embark on that journey.
When my mom was gone for almost an hour, I wondered what she was doing. But, to my surprise, she was taking a journey into the Hostess store. When she came home she told us the whole story about how the worker named Nancy was just handing her things for cheap prices.
"Nancy just kept putting things in my cart, telling me offers I couldn't refuse!"
Long story, short. My mom came home with four boxes of strudels, five boxes of pies, two boxes of cupcakes, one box of Twinkies, four boxes of Zingers, four loafs of bread, four boxes of doughnuts, and some small individually wrapped goodies that Nancy kept throwing into her cart. Talk about a lot of sweets. After us kids cleaned up our drool that was falling from our opened mouths, we quickly picked out what dessert we wanted and indulged ourselves into a Hostess adventure.
Today, my mom truly was The Hostess With The Mostess.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
To Be Continued.
The three words I dread to hear. "To Be Continued". Those three words are the reason I stayed on my couch for an extra hour today. They are the reason my chores didn't get done on time. THEY are the reason why my bladder was full, for two and a half hours!
Every now-and-then, a show will have an amazing plot that you get caught up in, and then you notice that there are only five minutes left. You freak out, and then ask yourself, "What's going to happen to her? Is he going to die?! They CANNOT get back together!". You think about how in the world the show is going to squeeze in forty-five minutes of information needed to finish your show. And then, as the time expires, those three words pop up.
"To Be Continued"
Sometimes the words appear on an all black screen, with a great, stylish choice of font. OR, they will show up on a cell phone the main character that you care so much about, is holding. Those three words always come as a surprise, especially when it is not wanted.
The couple who you had hoped would make it, is now fighting. The curious wife, finally found her husband with another woman. There was a complication in a very important surgery. Annnnnnnnnd, TO BE CONTINUED! It is extremely annoying, especially if you get really into your shows, like I do. The show seems like it is ending well, and then everything hits the screen like a 3D movie. It's chaotic! Things are happening left and right. A fire broke out at one house, and then down the road, a dead body was found. The story line was failed to be finished, and the girl you had hoped escaped out of the fire, was shown in the last scene laying on the floor. Then, To Be Continued. It ruins everything.
Then, after you piece yourself back together from what had just happened, you press the play button to continue the continued. (That sounds really confusing) When the "To Be Continued" episode begins, it shows the scene that made you heart race. It shows the same people, in the same positions like nothing had been changed. It shows the couple who were fighting, resolve their problems. The wife filing for a divorce. And, how the patient who was told their surgery was a routine surgery, is now undergoing several other surgeries, but this time not so routine.
Those three words were the reason why my couch had my butt imprinted on the cushion. The reason why I was sprinting to the bathroom when the show was over. And why I got in trouble for not finishing the dishwasher.
When my mom asked why the dishwasher wasn't done today I replied with, "Well, it's..."
To Be Continued.
Every now-and-then, a show will have an amazing plot that you get caught up in, and then you notice that there are only five minutes left. You freak out, and then ask yourself, "What's going to happen to her? Is he going to die?! They CANNOT get back together!". You think about how in the world the show is going to squeeze in forty-five minutes of information needed to finish your show. And then, as the time expires, those three words pop up.
"To Be Continued"
Sometimes the words appear on an all black screen, with a great, stylish choice of font. OR, they will show up on a cell phone the main character that you care so much about, is holding. Those three words always come as a surprise, especially when it is not wanted.
The couple who you had hoped would make it, is now fighting. The curious wife, finally found her husband with another woman. There was a complication in a very important surgery. Annnnnnnnnd, TO BE CONTINUED! It is extremely annoying, especially if you get really into your shows, like I do. The show seems like it is ending well, and then everything hits the screen like a 3D movie. It's chaotic! Things are happening left and right. A fire broke out at one house, and then down the road, a dead body was found. The story line was failed to be finished, and the girl you had hoped escaped out of the fire, was shown in the last scene laying on the floor. Then, To Be Continued. It ruins everything.
Then, after you piece yourself back together from what had just happened, you press the play button to continue the continued. (That sounds really confusing) When the "To Be Continued" episode begins, it shows the scene that made you heart race. It shows the same people, in the same positions like nothing had been changed. It shows the couple who were fighting, resolve their problems. The wife filing for a divorce. And, how the patient who was told their surgery was a routine surgery, is now undergoing several other surgeries, but this time not so routine.
Those three words were the reason why my couch had my butt imprinted on the cushion. The reason why I was sprinting to the bathroom when the show was over. And why I got in trouble for not finishing the dishwasher.
When my mom asked why the dishwasher wasn't done today I replied with, "Well, it's..."
To Be Continued.
Monday, January 9, 2012
"Can Somebody PLEASE Help Me?!?!"
Ashley Marie Mohler. My sister. Ever since birth, she has always beat me. Whether it was a pound heavier, or how cute she was, she was always winning. I would never expect that she would continue beating me throughout life.
About two months ago, Ashley discovered the ability to take me down within 0.4 seconds. Sometimes she will use it just to show off in front of her friends, or she will just push me down to make a point. When I see her coming, my body freezes, and I just drop to the floor. Yes, I am a baby, but, she can really hurt somebody. If you don't believe me, you let me know and I will arrange a fight between you and Ashley.
Today, when we got home from school, my mom called asking me to take out some chicken for dinner. As the phone was snug between my ear and my shoulder, and my hands in the freezer, she decided to attack. She grabbed the chicken bag from me and started to hit me with it. At first, I was laughing because, well, I was getting hit with a bag of chicken. That just sounds funny to me. After the third swing, I started to feel the pain. I tried to make the insanity stop, but she set down the chicken, pushed me down, and dragged me across our kitchen floor into the battle arena. (AKA, the living room)
She started with the same old moves, pushing me down, grabbing my arms, and repeating "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?" I know why, because you are HITTING ME WITH THEM! What a foolish question! After the childish games, she goes into Sumo Wrestler Mode. She jumps on me, and pulls my hands behind my back. Sometimes, I feel like I am getting arrested.
Tonight, as we were all sitting in the living room talking, Ashley started to approach me. I looked to my left to see if my mom could see the fear in my eyes, but she was too busy typing. Then, I looked to my right to do the same for my dad. He saw me, and he knew I was frightened, but he knew what was going on. Ashley got inches away from me and too a dramatic pause, **Dramatic Pause**,. She grabbed my foot, and started to pull. I fell off the couch, and onto the floor. She dragged me to the center of the room so everyone could see. She got on top of me, and began to hurt me.
I waited to see if my mom or dad would stop the madness, but they were just laughing. " Can somebody PLEAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE help me?!?!?!? Anyone!!! Please, she IS HURTING ME!" She pounced again. "PLEASSSE!!!! I am begging you!!" No reply, followed by no help. She started slapping my face with my hands, so I took advantage of the time and tried to roll her over. After a few times, it worked! I was in awe. When I got on top of her, I played the same childish game. I repeated "Hey Ashley! Why are you hitting yourself?!?! Huuhhh?? What did you say? Why are you HITTING yourself?!?" That didn't last long. She was back on top of me in seconds, hurting me.
After several, and boy do I mean SEVERAL cries for help, my mom stopped the pain.
Ninety percent of the time you may see Ashley and I, we are either bickering, fighting, or screaming at each other. Five percent of the time, we are crying because one of us hurt another. (I am not going to say who is usually crying...but it is definitely not me!) And the last five percent or the time, we spend snuggling up together watching a movie, or helping each other out with something. We might have our fights, but at the end of the day we love each other. Even if the Good Night sounds like this...
"Good night butt face, I hope the bed bugs bite you!" Then in whispers, "I love you."
About two months ago, Ashley discovered the ability to take me down within 0.4 seconds. Sometimes she will use it just to show off in front of her friends, or she will just push me down to make a point. When I see her coming, my body freezes, and I just drop to the floor. Yes, I am a baby, but, she can really hurt somebody. If you don't believe me, you let me know and I will arrange a fight between you and Ashley.
Today, when we got home from school, my mom called asking me to take out some chicken for dinner. As the phone was snug between my ear and my shoulder, and my hands in the freezer, she decided to attack. She grabbed the chicken bag from me and started to hit me with it. At first, I was laughing because, well, I was getting hit with a bag of chicken. That just sounds funny to me. After the third swing, I started to feel the pain. I tried to make the insanity stop, but she set down the chicken, pushed me down, and dragged me across our kitchen floor into the battle arena. (AKA, the living room)
She started with the same old moves, pushing me down, grabbing my arms, and repeating "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?" I know why, because you are HITTING ME WITH THEM! What a foolish question! After the childish games, she goes into Sumo Wrestler Mode. She jumps on me, and pulls my hands behind my back. Sometimes, I feel like I am getting arrested.
Tonight, as we were all sitting in the living room talking, Ashley started to approach me. I looked to my left to see if my mom could see the fear in my eyes, but she was too busy typing. Then, I looked to my right to do the same for my dad. He saw me, and he knew I was frightened, but he knew what was going on. Ashley got inches away from me and too a dramatic pause, **Dramatic Pause**,. She grabbed my foot, and started to pull. I fell off the couch, and onto the floor. She dragged me to the center of the room so everyone could see. She got on top of me, and began to hurt me.
I waited to see if my mom or dad would stop the madness, but they were just laughing. " Can somebody PLEAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE help me?!?!?!? Anyone!!! Please, she IS HURTING ME!" She pounced again. "PLEASSSE!!!! I am begging you!!" No reply, followed by no help. She started slapping my face with my hands, so I took advantage of the time and tried to roll her over. After a few times, it worked! I was in awe. When I got on top of her, I played the same childish game. I repeated "Hey Ashley! Why are you hitting yourself?!?! Huuhhh?? What did you say? Why are you HITTING yourself?!?" That didn't last long. She was back on top of me in seconds, hurting me.
After several, and boy do I mean SEVERAL cries for help, my mom stopped the pain.
Ninety percent of the time you may see Ashley and I, we are either bickering, fighting, or screaming at each other. Five percent of the time, we are crying because one of us hurt another. (I am not going to say who is usually crying...but it is definitely not me!) And the last five percent or the time, we spend snuggling up together watching a movie, or helping each other out with something. We might have our fights, but at the end of the day we love each other. Even if the Good Night sounds like this...
"Good night butt face, I hope the bed bugs bite you!" Then in whispers, "I love you."
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The Secret Is Out.
On Monday, I went to Apple Bees with some friends for a so called "dinner date", except 1. It wasn't dinner, it was lunch. And, 2. It wasn't a date, it was just sisters going out for lunch. I was anticipating to get a nice lunch, maybe a Cesar Salad, or a nice B.L.T, which I did, but it was followed by fish. Four fish to be exact.
After lunch, we walked over to Pet Supplies Co. where we saw animals of all kinds. We walked down multiple aisles filled with the non-ideal pet. The rodents and insects fell into that category. After we passed the cat cages, and the stickers for your car if you love your pet that much, I saw an empty tank. I started speeding up, because I knew it wasn't another desisting rodent, or a tarantula, it was a fish. But, not just one fish, there were multiple fish! Big ones, small ones, ones with strips, ones with dots. (I feel like I am reading a Dr. Seuss book.) There was a whole wall of fish.
There were large fish, who's price tag read waaaay to much for a fish, and some medium sized ones that required special water and such, and then there were the small ones. All living in their own tank, swimming together playing fish games. We called over the salesman to tell us more about the fish, but I was already sold. I knew I wasn't leaving that store without a fish in hand. He told us about how they were only thirteen cents (SCORE!!) because they were food. Those poor fish would sit in that tank all day long, hoping and praying with their little gills, that maybe one day someone would stop and save them from the madness. And, that is where I came into play.
I looked into the tank staring at over a hundred fish, when my eyes locked on the perfect fish. She was white on top and orange on the bottom. She was perfect. She was the definition of perfect. The name popped right to mind seconds later, Ellen DeGeneres. Perfect! Her name had to be as great as her fish-like look. When I said I wanted to save an innocent life, I started a chain. My sister, and our friends wanted one too. We were saving FOUR life's in one day! It was unbelievable. When our friend's mother came to pick us up, we couldn't let her know about out secret friends. So, in a hurry my sister, and friends took off their coats and used them to disguised the fish. I was smart enough to stay warm, and just put the plastic bag inside my coat. On top of feeling unbelievable, I felt like a genius.
As the mother's car pulled into our neighborhood, I looked back at my sister with a frazzled look on my face. I was trying to mouth her a plan, but she didn't comprehend. When the car pulled into the driveway, we said our goodbyes very quickly, and booked it into the house. We ran upstairs to put the fish in our rooms until we came up with a better plan. After the fish, Ellen and Steven, were settled into their new homes, my mother insisted on asking us a million questions. Including "Why did you guys run up stairs so fast?"
On Wednesday, I felt like a champion because I have hid the fish from my mother for more than twenty-four hours. My mom would NOT be okay with a fish in our house, let alone my bedroom, but I saved a life. That was my explanation if anything "fishy" happened. (See what I did there?)
Tonight while checking my Facebook, my friends mom found her children's fish hidden in their closet. She posted a picture, and soon my mom saw it on her News Feed.
"Amanda, why are there fish in (your friends') closet?"
"Ummmm, I am not really sure..."
"Then why did you comment on it and say yours died?!"
"WE SAVED A LIFE, OKKAAAYY??!!!?! Just don't go upstairs!"
After that my sister and I ran upstairs and confronted my mother with the fish. Unfortunately, Ellen passed this morning. I was heart broken, and I didn't know who to talk to considering I talk to my mom about everything. So, I had to pull it all together for school.
When my mom took a picture of Ellen while laughing hysterically, I could only think of one thing, our time together. Over the course of four days, Ellen and I became best friends. I was thinking about making friendship bracket's, but hers would just disintegrate in the water. She was my friend for those short four days. We shared secrets, and the same tap water. It was crazy how close we were. I loved her with all my heart, and no fish will ever replace her.
This weekend, I am planning on cooping with this death in Ellen's honor by buying more fish. I will go out to lunch, stumble into Pet Supplies Co., go through every aisle until I see the tanks. I will purchase new fish from the same tank Ellen was from, and treat them like sweet little fish.
This blog is dedicated to Ellen Degeneres (The Fish). She was a great friend, and an even better swimmer. 2012. You will always be loved.
After lunch, we walked over to Pet Supplies Co. where we saw animals of all kinds. We walked down multiple aisles filled with the non-ideal pet. The rodents and insects fell into that category. After we passed the cat cages, and the stickers for your car if you love your pet that much, I saw an empty tank. I started speeding up, because I knew it wasn't another desisting rodent, or a tarantula, it was a fish. But, not just one fish, there were multiple fish! Big ones, small ones, ones with strips, ones with dots. (I feel like I am reading a Dr. Seuss book.) There was a whole wall of fish.
There were large fish, who's price tag read waaaay to much for a fish, and some medium sized ones that required special water and such, and then there were the small ones. All living in their own tank, swimming together playing fish games. We called over the salesman to tell us more about the fish, but I was already sold. I knew I wasn't leaving that store without a fish in hand. He told us about how they were only thirteen cents (SCORE!!) because they were food. Those poor fish would sit in that tank all day long, hoping and praying with their little gills, that maybe one day someone would stop and save them from the madness. And, that is where I came into play.
I looked into the tank staring at over a hundred fish, when my eyes locked on the perfect fish. She was white on top and orange on the bottom. She was perfect. She was the definition of perfect. The name popped right to mind seconds later, Ellen DeGeneres. Perfect! Her name had to be as great as her fish-like look. When I said I wanted to save an innocent life, I started a chain. My sister, and our friends wanted one too. We were saving FOUR life's in one day! It was unbelievable. When our friend's mother came to pick us up, we couldn't let her know about out secret friends. So, in a hurry my sister, and friends took off their coats and used them to disguised the fish. I was smart enough to stay warm, and just put the plastic bag inside my coat. On top of feeling unbelievable, I felt like a genius.
As the mother's car pulled into our neighborhood, I looked back at my sister with a frazzled look on my face. I was trying to mouth her a plan, but she didn't comprehend. When the car pulled into the driveway, we said our goodbyes very quickly, and booked it into the house. We ran upstairs to put the fish in our rooms until we came up with a better plan. After the fish, Ellen and Steven, were settled into their new homes, my mother insisted on asking us a million questions. Including "Why did you guys run up stairs so fast?"
On Wednesday, I felt like a champion because I have hid the fish from my mother for more than twenty-four hours. My mom would NOT be okay with a fish in our house, let alone my bedroom, but I saved a life. That was my explanation if anything "fishy" happened. (See what I did there?)
Tonight while checking my Facebook, my friends mom found her children's fish hidden in their closet. She posted a picture, and soon my mom saw it on her News Feed.
"Amanda, why are there fish in (your friends') closet?"
"Ummmm, I am not really sure..."
"Then why did you comment on it and say yours died?!"
"WE SAVED A LIFE, OKKAAAYY??!!!?! Just don't go upstairs!"
After that my sister and I ran upstairs and confronted my mother with the fish. Unfortunately, Ellen passed this morning. I was heart broken, and I didn't know who to talk to considering I talk to my mom about everything. So, I had to pull it all together for school.
When my mom took a picture of Ellen while laughing hysterically, I could only think of one thing, our time together. Over the course of four days, Ellen and I became best friends. I was thinking about making friendship bracket's, but hers would just disintegrate in the water. She was my friend for those short four days. We shared secrets, and the same tap water. It was crazy how close we were. I loved her with all my heart, and no fish will ever replace her.
This weekend, I am planning on cooping with this death in Ellen's honor by buying more fish. I will go out to lunch, stumble into Pet Supplies Co., go through every aisle until I see the tanks. I will purchase new fish from the same tank Ellen was from, and treat them like sweet little fish.
This blog is dedicated to Ellen Degeneres (The Fish). She was a great friend, and an even better swimmer. 2012. You will always be loved.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Miss. Not-So-Tough Girl.
My little sister Ashley knows all my weak points. She knows where to kick, where to punch, and where to tickle. When I am not looking, I get tackled to the ground in seconds screaming for help. When I am laying on the couch, the television turns off in a flash, and out come Ashley like it's a WWE wrestling match.
A while ago, she used to be the one afraid of me. I would step toward her, and she would run the opposite way. And, I am embarrassed to say, the roles have switched.
The other day, Ashley had a friend over and decided to take me down. I was laying on the floor of our living room, playing with my new phone. I heard her coming, but nothing came to mind because she was with a friend. Maybe they were getting themselves a snack, or going to watch a movie like any normal eleven year old do, but no. She was coming for me. As I was laying on my stomach enjoying my game of Angry Birds, Ashley sits on the back of me. I told her to get off calmly, and she failed to listen. So, I rolled over. That was a BAD idea. At the time, I thought it was a genius plan. I thought she would fall off, or maybe think I was getting up resulting in her getting up, but, sadly, no. She was sitting on top of me looking me down with The Grin. Her Grin is like a half smile, with a little bit of the eyebrows added in. It is freaky.
She sat on me, as I screamed for her friend to come helped me. But, I think she was part of this whole plan. She sat on our couch, just staring and laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't believe she thought this was actually funny. Then as Ashley turned away to look at her friend, I tried to break free. She shot back like a rocket, grabbed both of my hands, and held them above my head. I didn't know what to do. Again, I tried to break free from her trap, but I was useless against her super eleven year old strength.
Today, while she was laying on the couch, I tried to rebel. I turned off the television, and walked in the living room with "My Grin", which was just a smile, because I didn't know the art of The Grin. I thought I would "kill her with kindness", again, it seemed good at the time.
I walked up to her slower than a turtle hoping for an announcer to scream my arrival throughout the whole house, but there was silence. Ashley quickly turned to me and said "Put the T.V. back on, or you will pay! I will take you down!!" I kept walking slowly towards her, but now with a scared look added to my smile. But, I had to stay strong. I jumped on top of her in hopes to see fear in her eyes, but she just gave me The Grin. In a matter of seconds, we were back to point A where she was sitting on top of me.
Tonight while I was getting an apple out of the refrigerator, she said "You better get me one, or else." Personally, I didn't want to figure out what "or else" meant, so I picked up the most perfect apple in the bag, and handed it to her.
At first, I thought I was being tough, but it turns out she was.
"This apple is bruised on the side, get me a new one."
"NO!"
"Oh, look-ey here, we got ourselves a Tough Girl."
Let's just say, she got a new apple, and I got a new nickname. Miss. Not-So-Tough Girl.
A while ago, she used to be the one afraid of me. I would step toward her, and she would run the opposite way. And, I am embarrassed to say, the roles have switched.
The other day, Ashley had a friend over and decided to take me down. I was laying on the floor of our living room, playing with my new phone. I heard her coming, but nothing came to mind because she was with a friend. Maybe they were getting themselves a snack, or going to watch a movie like any normal eleven year old do, but no. She was coming for me. As I was laying on my stomach enjoying my game of Angry Birds, Ashley sits on the back of me. I told her to get off calmly, and she failed to listen. So, I rolled over. That was a BAD idea. At the time, I thought it was a genius plan. I thought she would fall off, or maybe think I was getting up resulting in her getting up, but, sadly, no. She was sitting on top of me looking me down with The Grin. Her Grin is like a half smile, with a little bit of the eyebrows added in. It is freaky.
She sat on me, as I screamed for her friend to come helped me. But, I think she was part of this whole plan. She sat on our couch, just staring and laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't believe she thought this was actually funny. Then as Ashley turned away to look at her friend, I tried to break free. She shot back like a rocket, grabbed both of my hands, and held them above my head. I didn't know what to do. Again, I tried to break free from her trap, but I was useless against her super eleven year old strength.
Today, while she was laying on the couch, I tried to rebel. I turned off the television, and walked in the living room with "My Grin", which was just a smile, because I didn't know the art of The Grin. I thought I would "kill her with kindness", again, it seemed good at the time.
I walked up to her slower than a turtle hoping for an announcer to scream my arrival throughout the whole house, but there was silence. Ashley quickly turned to me and said "Put the T.V. back on, or you will pay! I will take you down!!" I kept walking slowly towards her, but now with a scared look added to my smile. But, I had to stay strong. I jumped on top of her in hopes to see fear in her eyes, but she just gave me The Grin. In a matter of seconds, we were back to point A where she was sitting on top of me.
Tonight while I was getting an apple out of the refrigerator, she said "You better get me one, or else." Personally, I didn't want to figure out what "or else" meant, so I picked up the most perfect apple in the bag, and handed it to her.
At first, I thought I was being tough, but it turns out she was.
"This apple is bruised on the side, get me a new one."
"NO!"
"Oh, look-ey here, we got ourselves a Tough Girl."
Let's just say, she got a new apple, and I got a new nickname. Miss. Not-So-Tough Girl.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Twenty, Twenty, Twenty, Twelve.
Twenty-Twelve; Man, do I like the sound of that! It's actually, kind of catchy. Twenty, twenty, twenty, twelve. Imagine it to the beat of Moves Like Jagger, even better!
Every New Years is a new, and different experience for me. I never really had an interest in the whole "ball dropping" idea until two years ago. I always thought the ball drop was a BIG, stupendous event. A glass ball rushing toward the ground, reaching speeds of ninety miles and hour, smashing into a million pieces. That is exactly what I pictured New Years to be up until a few years ago. I was shocked when I saw a giant glass ball, being lowered down at 0.4 miles an hour on my television screen. At the time, I couldn't believe that society made the whole concept of New Years such a big ordeal. I would always have the same thought while sitting at the "kids table" watching the adults from a far, "Why is this event such a BIG deal?"
During those years, I still didn't understand it. I just thought of it as a way to skip my curfew, or stay up past my bedtime. To drink this amazing apple juice out of a fancy cup, WITH foam at the top. I thought that was the coolest thing. But, just like every little kid, I didn't make it. I would survive up till ten thirty, and feel like such a trooper, and then...CRASH! I would fall asleep instantly.
As the years went on, I began to understand New Years. I started to attend parties that were more up-beat. There were NO kid tables staring me down. I would make it past midnight, and if I was lucky, even longer. The amazing apple juice was upgraded to delicious grape juice. (NO ALCOHOL! Which, since I am on the subject of "no alcohol", I would like to preach. For anyone who's Facebook statuses I read on the night of the New Year, that were about parting with "booze". I would like to say that it doesn't make you "cool" to drink, it actually kind of makes you, excuse my language, but, it makes you STUPID!) Anyways, sorry for my venting.
Last night I went to a kid-friendly party. I saw some old faces, and met some new ones. Us kids were all in the basement hanging out playing games waiting for the new year to hit. After all of our games were played, we all found ourselves sitting around doing nothing. I asked everyone what their New Years Resolutions were. The younger kids jumped right on my question and answered with, well, little kid answers. "My New Years Resolution is to eat more candy!" "Mine is to invent a crazy slide that my mom will let me put in my room!!"
After everyone said their bazaar, and obvious resolutions, I came to thinking I didn't have one. All day I have been pondering about my resolutions. When I thought of one, I would write it down. My craziest one came to me while I was vacuuming my living room.
So, here are my New Years Resolutions to a better year.
1. Be more, Amanda Mohler. Embrace myself for who I am, and not be afraid of what people might think.
2. Change the world.
3. When I see a baby in a store staring at me, I want to make it laugh.
4. Rekindle some old friendships.
5. Become someones hero.
6. Enjoy my life more.
7. Cap the toothpaste when I am done everyday.
8. Learn something new each day.
9. Stand up for myself, and not become a dirty floor mat.
10. Help someone in need.
11. Try to read three books a month.
12. Have more patience towards my little sister.
13. Learn sign language.
14. Pass my permit test.
15. Stay in Cinderella's Disney Castel.
Twenty-Twelve. Yes, I was right, it does sound like a good year.
Happy Twenty-Twelve to everyone I know, and love. I hope this year brings you luck, happiness, and love.
Every New Years is a new, and different experience for me. I never really had an interest in the whole "ball dropping" idea until two years ago. I always thought the ball drop was a BIG, stupendous event. A glass ball rushing toward the ground, reaching speeds of ninety miles and hour, smashing into a million pieces. That is exactly what I pictured New Years to be up until a few years ago. I was shocked when I saw a giant glass ball, being lowered down at 0.4 miles an hour on my television screen. At the time, I couldn't believe that society made the whole concept of New Years such a big ordeal. I would always have the same thought while sitting at the "kids table" watching the adults from a far, "Why is this event such a BIG deal?"
During those years, I still didn't understand it. I just thought of it as a way to skip my curfew, or stay up past my bedtime. To drink this amazing apple juice out of a fancy cup, WITH foam at the top. I thought that was the coolest thing. But, just like every little kid, I didn't make it. I would survive up till ten thirty, and feel like such a trooper, and then...CRASH! I would fall asleep instantly.
As the years went on, I began to understand New Years. I started to attend parties that were more up-beat. There were NO kid tables staring me down. I would make it past midnight, and if I was lucky, even longer. The amazing apple juice was upgraded to delicious grape juice. (NO ALCOHOL! Which, since I am on the subject of "no alcohol", I would like to preach. For anyone who's Facebook statuses I read on the night of the New Year, that were about parting with "booze". I would like to say that it doesn't make you "cool" to drink, it actually kind of makes you, excuse my language, but, it makes you STUPID!) Anyways, sorry for my venting.
Last night I went to a kid-friendly party. I saw some old faces, and met some new ones. Us kids were all in the basement hanging out playing games waiting for the new year to hit. After all of our games were played, we all found ourselves sitting around doing nothing. I asked everyone what their New Years Resolutions were. The younger kids jumped right on my question and answered with, well, little kid answers. "My New Years Resolution is to eat more candy!" "Mine is to invent a crazy slide that my mom will let me put in my room!!"
After everyone said their bazaar, and obvious resolutions, I came to thinking I didn't have one. All day I have been pondering about my resolutions. When I thought of one, I would write it down. My craziest one came to me while I was vacuuming my living room.
So, here are my New Years Resolutions to a better year.
1. Be more, Amanda Mohler. Embrace myself for who I am, and not be afraid of what people might think.
2. Change the world.
3. When I see a baby in a store staring at me, I want to make it laugh.
4. Rekindle some old friendships.
5. Become someones hero.
6. Enjoy my life more.
7. Cap the toothpaste when I am done everyday.
8. Learn something new each day.
9. Stand up for myself, and not become a dirty floor mat.
10. Help someone in need.
11. Try to read three books a month.
12. Have more patience towards my little sister.
13. Learn sign language.
14. Pass my permit test.
15. Stay in Cinderella's Disney Castel.
Twenty-Twelve. Yes, I was right, it does sound like a good year.
Happy Twenty-Twelve to everyone I know, and love. I hope this year brings you luck, happiness, and love.
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