Have you ever seen the TLC show, Extreme Couponing? Well, I'm not that "extreme", but I am couponing!
A few days ago, I was watching TLC, because, honestly, who doesn't love those crazy shows...but, anyways, an Extreme Couponing marathon was on, and I decided to watch one episode. ONE episode.
At first I thought it was preposterous, cutting up zillions of coupons and then doing math...(ewwww math) to figure out how to get things for free, and to get things half off. It just seemed so time consuming. The episode I was watching was about a girl named Jamie. She talked all about her family, and about how much toilet paper they go through, and things like that. Then it showed her in her "couponing" room, which was filled with file cabinets everywhere. After that, she went to the grocery store. She shopped around, and for everything she had a coupon for, she snatched up as much as possible. Then, she raced over to the overly nice cashier, handed her over 1,000 coupons, had a little problem, but then it was resolved by the manager being called. After all of that, the cashier says, "Your total comes to $1,902.63 without coupons..." then takes a dramatic pause, and continues.."and after coupons it come to, $103.72."
WHAAAAT?!?!??
How in God's name does that happen...?!? Saving over $1,000 on groceries, seriously?!? That doesn't even sound possible. Who even buys over $1,000 worth of groceries!
After all the congratulating, and the (seeming effortless) putting away of the groceries, they show her huge stock pile and show how they have enough mustard to last them a million life times. It is a seriously crazy show.
Well, I am not writing to tell you that I saved over $1,000 on groceries, or that I have enough mustard to last me until the end of time. I am writing to tell you that I was an extreme couponer.
This morning I woke up because, got the coupons from the back of the news paper that usually end up in the trash, and started cutting them out. I felt inspired! First I started cutting every single coupon out, thinking "Hey! Let's just get it!", then realising my mom probably wouldn't let me save $1.00 of blue hair dye. So, then I started reading the coupons and thinking, reasonably, if it was worth it.
After several cuttings later, I had all the coupons cut out and ready to go. I have never wanted to go grocery shopping this bad before.
My mom and I got camera ready (just in case we did save big! That way we were already ready for the camera crews) Duuuuhhhh. Then, we head out for our journey. Every aisle we entered we would grab a coupon, grab the item, and then high-five.
After all the coupon cutting, and all the high-fiving, we ended up saving a little over $80.00 on groceries! It was insane!
Saving $80.00 on groceries is not as good as $1,000, but I am just an Extreme Couponer in training.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Growing Pains
In the last few days, I have noticed a few major things in my life. From the title of my blog, you are probably thinking that my knees are hurting from growing, well, they're not. And, don't get my hops up that I will grow anymore because I don't believe I will...
But, anyways. For anyone who knows me, I am a very emotional person. I take things to heart. Everything. I am a crier. Personally, I wish I wasn't but, it's just the cards I was dealt. The last few days have been extremely emotional for me. I blame my emotions on the growing pains.
It is painful to grow up and now I am just realizing that. Every since I can remember, I wanted a family and to be married right away. Now, I am noticing how fast this year has gone, and how I can, in fact wait.
This year was really tricky for me. I switched to a different school, not knowing anything. Every time I think of the beginning of the year I think of a part from my favorite Dr. Seuss book, Oh, The Places You'll Go!
"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?"
Well, I went in. At first, the streets were not marked, and some windows were lighted and some were dark, but, I adventured on, just like the book.
This week was the last week for the Seniors at my school. Watching them from the first day of school and thinking 'I can't wait to be them', I anticipated for that day. Well, that was before I developed growing pains. My growing pains made me realize that sooner or later, I will be in the same position the Senior class is in right now. I will go through my last day of school, my last day wearing a uniform, and my last day of high school. It actually really hurts to think about it. It hurts just like growing pains.
I have realized that I have never laughed and smiled so much in one year, it is actually unfathomable.
Everyday that I go to classes, I develop more growing pains. Everyday, classes get harder, tests become longer, and homework loads become voluminous. Every single day that passes, my growing pains add up, and by the time I am a senior walking through the doors of my school one last time, I will have enough growing pains added up in order to go on in life.
For me, that seems extremely scary. Entering a new chapter in your life, going into the unknown. Just like the book. Going somewhere, where the streets are not marked. It's just unthinkable. Some say it is not fair that we grow up, and I agree. I enjoy the growing pains that I have now, and I feel like I just can't take anymore. But, that's life.
So, bring on the growing pains. I'm ready.
But, anyways. For anyone who knows me, I am a very emotional person. I take things to heart. Everything. I am a crier. Personally, I wish I wasn't but, it's just the cards I was dealt. The last few days have been extremely emotional for me. I blame my emotions on the growing pains.
It is painful to grow up and now I am just realizing that. Every since I can remember, I wanted a family and to be married right away. Now, I am noticing how fast this year has gone, and how I can, in fact wait.
This year was really tricky for me. I switched to a different school, not knowing anything. Every time I think of the beginning of the year I think of a part from my favorite Dr. Seuss book, Oh, The Places You'll Go!
"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?"
Well, I went in. At first, the streets were not marked, and some windows were lighted and some were dark, but, I adventured on, just like the book.
This week was the last week for the Seniors at my school. Watching them from the first day of school and thinking 'I can't wait to be them', I anticipated for that day. Well, that was before I developed growing pains. My growing pains made me realize that sooner or later, I will be in the same position the Senior class is in right now. I will go through my last day of school, my last day wearing a uniform, and my last day of high school. It actually really hurts to think about it. It hurts just like growing pains.
I have realized that I have never laughed and smiled so much in one year, it is actually unfathomable.
Everyday that I go to classes, I develop more growing pains. Everyday, classes get harder, tests become longer, and homework loads become voluminous. Every single day that passes, my growing pains add up, and by the time I am a senior walking through the doors of my school one last time, I will have enough growing pains added up in order to go on in life.
For me, that seems extremely scary. Entering a new chapter in your life, going into the unknown. Just like the book. Going somewhere, where the streets are not marked. It's just unthinkable. Some say it is not fair that we grow up, and I agree. I enjoy the growing pains that I have now, and I feel like I just can't take anymore. But, that's life.
So, bring on the growing pains. I'm ready.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sorrow To Suprise!
All week long, (starting last Monday) I had been in the worst mood ever. And, I am not just talking hitting my arm, and falling on my face. I am talking about being in tears everyday, always bumping into things, bad moods at every hour of the day. Now, that's what I am talking about!
Everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. I was beyond over powered by homework, I was behind on my research project, and I was assigned waaaaaaaay to many pages to read for just one night. On top of the school work, I had softball every single day, and because of that I didn't get home at a reasonable time. I would be up for countless hours finishing homework, and then get ready for bed. On some nights, I would notice as my head hit my pillow, that I was getting in bed at such an absurd times such as 12:30! I have NEVER, EVER gone to bed that late on a school night before. On Thursday, I felt like such a bad kid, I couldn't even fall asleep. I'm just a really, really bad kid...what can I say?
Anyways, after my bad week at school ended, I had the weekend to catch up on all my homework, and that is exactly what I did. I stayed in my room for eight hours straight, (minus bathroom breaks, and a little snack here and there), on Saturday and did my homework. THEN I was thinking that I had the rest of the weekend to finish my homework so I decided to take a break, BUT I forgot my friend asked me to go to the mall with her.
In a frantic, I woke up early Sunday morning to get the rest of my work done. I spent an additional three hours on my homework, and then I looked at my clock and noticed it was 12:30, and my friend was picking me up at 1:30 for the mall. Thinking about how much work I still had to get done, I almost cancelled on my friend, but I didn't.
When I was finally ready, I was waiting outside for my friend to pick me up. I see a few cars pass by, and get excited, but, it wasn't her. Then, out of nowhere, a limo bus comes driving down my street, and I did a double take. I look at my mom, who is now smiling uncontrollably, and I see all my friends running at me.
The limo bus took my friends and I to Niagara Falls, Kelly's Country Store, Mississippi Mudds, and Blasdell Pizza. It was THE best birthday party I have ever had.
It turns out that I have one of the best mothers EVER. To anyone who thinks they can compete against my mother, let me know, and we will arrange a challenge. She. Is. Better.
Thank you to everyone who helped out with planning, and keeping it a secret from me. It really was the best surprise of my life!
Everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. I was beyond over powered by homework, I was behind on my research project, and I was assigned waaaaaaaay to many pages to read for just one night. On top of the school work, I had softball every single day, and because of that I didn't get home at a reasonable time. I would be up for countless hours finishing homework, and then get ready for bed. On some nights, I would notice as my head hit my pillow, that I was getting in bed at such an absurd times such as 12:30! I have NEVER, EVER gone to bed that late on a school night before. On Thursday, I felt like such a bad kid, I couldn't even fall asleep. I'm just a really, really bad kid...what can I say?
Anyways, after my bad week at school ended, I had the weekend to catch up on all my homework, and that is exactly what I did. I stayed in my room for eight hours straight, (minus bathroom breaks, and a little snack here and there), on Saturday and did my homework. THEN I was thinking that I had the rest of the weekend to finish my homework so I decided to take a break, BUT I forgot my friend asked me to go to the mall with her.
In a frantic, I woke up early Sunday morning to get the rest of my work done. I spent an additional three hours on my homework, and then I looked at my clock and noticed it was 12:30, and my friend was picking me up at 1:30 for the mall. Thinking about how much work I still had to get done, I almost cancelled on my friend, but I didn't.
When I was finally ready, I was waiting outside for my friend to pick me up. I see a few cars pass by, and get excited, but, it wasn't her. Then, out of nowhere, a limo bus comes driving down my street, and I did a double take. I look at my mom, who is now smiling uncontrollably, and I see all my friends running at me.
The limo bus took my friends and I to Niagara Falls, Kelly's Country Store, Mississippi Mudds, and Blasdell Pizza. It was THE best birthday party I have ever had.
It turns out that I have one of the best mothers EVER. To anyone who thinks they can compete against my mother, let me know, and we will arrange a challenge. She. Is. Better.
Thank you to everyone who helped out with planning, and keeping it a secret from me. It really was the best surprise of my life!
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Extreme Writer's Block; A Disease, OR A Crime?
Hello. Yes, this is Amanda Mohler. I know exactly what you are thinking, you probably thought I dropped off the face of the earth or something crazy that would cause me not to write. I have gotten a lot of "Where are the blogs?!?" and "I keep checking, but, nothing is there!". To everyone who has addressed me in the past two months, I am sorry. I am going to try to keep writing during my insane life. Well, at least I will try!
I needed a way to show people that I was still alive, and just not writing blogs because of my severe case of writer's block. (It sounds like a short term medical problem) I am healthy! Just to be clear!
I promise I am going to start writing again, it is just hard between my school work, and softball, which is taking over my life! BUT, I love it. Absolutely LOVE it.
Ummm, nothing "blog material" has happened to me today, so I am going to ummmmmm, give you the forecast! Sounds like a perfectly good idea! It has BEAUTIOUS outside! If you haven't noticed, you might need to get out from underneath your rock. Go outside and get some nice fresh air, and a nice golden tan, because it will most likely snow tomorrow.
Well, I am going to stop writing because this is really unnecessary. I just wanted everyone to know I was still alive. :)
Blog you later!
I needed a way to show people that I was still alive, and just not writing blogs because of my severe case of writer's block. (It sounds like a short term medical problem) I am healthy! Just to be clear!
I promise I am going to start writing again, it is just hard between my school work, and softball, which is taking over my life! BUT, I love it. Absolutely LOVE it.
Ummm, nothing "blog material" has happened to me today, so I am going to ummmmmm, give you the forecast! Sounds like a perfectly good idea! It has BEAUTIOUS outside! If you haven't noticed, you might need to get out from underneath your rock. Go outside and get some nice fresh air, and a nice golden tan, because it will most likely snow tomorrow.
Well, I am going to stop writing because this is really unnecessary. I just wanted everyone to know I was still alive. :)
Blog you later!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wait, You Are HOW Old?
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.
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.
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.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Cry Baby.
For anyone who is an emotional person like me, I hope you enjoy this.
When I watch television, I have to pick out my movies and shows with great caution. If the movie seems to sad, it's not in my best interest to watch it, if it looks to scary, it goes back on the shelf. I am more of a happy, animated animals, Disney type of girl. NOT A SCARY, GORY, TEARFUL, type of person.
For example; Marley & Me. Yes, it is a Disney movie, and YES it does star my favorite actress, Jennifer Aniston, but, it is one of the saddest movies I have ever seen. For anyone who hasn't seen it, I either encourage you to go see it with a box of tissues in hand, or don't see it at all. I balled my eyes out, and I wish I would have had a box of tissues. Learn from my mistakes. Every scene in that movie puts you through an emotional roller coaster. Once you think you are clear from a sad scene, and you wipe your tears, your eyes start pouring out more and more sadness.
Today was another typical day. I woke up at the crack of dawn, ate breakfast, and watched Desperate Housewives for about three hours until my little sister and the whole world got up. Desperate Housewives is my new addiction. It's not the kind of addiction where you just need to have it a little bit, I need it every five seconds. It's a crazy show, jam packed with scenarios that you wouldn't believe!
When I finished my first episode of the day, I pressed the play button to go on to the next one. The second episode I watched was crazzzzzzzy! (And, yes. All of those "zzzzz's" were needed.) Anyways, a tornado was about to hit their little Suburbia Neighborhood, and no one was prepared. Susan, who is the romantic "Desperate Housewives" was at the hospital fighting with her husband about his drug addiction. Lynette the soccer mom "Desperate Housewife" was trying to find a place to stay because she didn't have a basement where her family of seven could stay. Bree, the crazy perfectionist "Desperate Housewives" was worrying about other peoples problems. And Gabby, who is a (insert bad word here), "Desperate Housewives" was off having an affair with her ex-husband.
I know what you are thinking, this show is crazy! But, it is amazing!
None of the "Desperate Housewives" were ready for the upcoming storm. As I sat there in agony screaming at the television, I felt a tear rush down my face. I quickly paused the Netflix, and got my act together. After three minutes of pondering terrible thoughts about what would happen to the "Desperate Housewives", I couldn't help but ask myself, "Why the HECK are you crying?!? It's a foolish T.V. show!" I controlled my emotions, and pressed play. As the episodes time was running out, a black screen came up on the T.V. with three white words. "To Be Continued" WHATTT!!!!!!!
I was already a wet tearful mess, and now they want it to continue! Are they NUTSS!!?!?!??!
Unfortunately, I couldn't handle the intensity anymore, so, I saved the "To Be Continued" episode for tomorrow. When I walked upstairs to wash the sadness of my face, my sister walked into the hallway and said "Were you watching Desperate Housewives, again?" I nodded.
"You are SUCH a Cry Baby!!"
When I watch television, I have to pick out my movies and shows with great caution. If the movie seems to sad, it's not in my best interest to watch it, if it looks to scary, it goes back on the shelf. I am more of a happy, animated animals, Disney type of girl. NOT A SCARY, GORY, TEARFUL, type of person.
For example; Marley & Me. Yes, it is a Disney movie, and YES it does star my favorite actress, Jennifer Aniston, but, it is one of the saddest movies I have ever seen. For anyone who hasn't seen it, I either encourage you to go see it with a box of tissues in hand, or don't see it at all. I balled my eyes out, and I wish I would have had a box of tissues. Learn from my mistakes. Every scene in that movie puts you through an emotional roller coaster. Once you think you are clear from a sad scene, and you wipe your tears, your eyes start pouring out more and more sadness.
Today was another typical day. I woke up at the crack of dawn, ate breakfast, and watched Desperate Housewives for about three hours until my little sister and the whole world got up. Desperate Housewives is my new addiction. It's not the kind of addiction where you just need to have it a little bit, I need it every five seconds. It's a crazy show, jam packed with scenarios that you wouldn't believe!
When I finished my first episode of the day, I pressed the play button to go on to the next one. The second episode I watched was crazzzzzzzy! (And, yes. All of those "zzzzz's" were needed.) Anyways, a tornado was about to hit their little Suburbia Neighborhood, and no one was prepared. Susan, who is the romantic "Desperate Housewives" was at the hospital fighting with her husband about his drug addiction. Lynette the soccer mom "Desperate Housewife" was trying to find a place to stay because she didn't have a basement where her family of seven could stay. Bree, the crazy perfectionist "Desperate Housewives" was worrying about other peoples problems. And Gabby, who is a (insert bad word here), "Desperate Housewives" was off having an affair with her ex-husband.
I know what you are thinking, this show is crazy! But, it is amazing!
None of the "Desperate Housewives" were ready for the upcoming storm. As I sat there in agony screaming at the television, I felt a tear rush down my face. I quickly paused the Netflix, and got my act together. After three minutes of pondering terrible thoughts about what would happen to the "Desperate Housewives", I couldn't help but ask myself, "Why the HECK are you crying?!? It's a foolish T.V. show!" I controlled my emotions, and pressed play. As the episodes time was running out, a black screen came up on the T.V. with three white words. "To Be Continued" WHATTT!!!!!!!
I was already a wet tearful mess, and now they want it to continue! Are they NUTSS!!?!?!??!
Unfortunately, I couldn't handle the intensity anymore, so, I saved the "To Be Continued" episode for tomorrow. When I walked upstairs to wash the sadness of my face, my sister walked into the hallway and said "Were you watching Desperate Housewives, again?" I nodded.
"You are SUCH a Cry Baby!!"
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A White Christmas.
Waking up on Christmas morning in my house, is somewhat painful. My little sister, Ashley jumps on me until I am 100% awake, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!!!! SANTA WAS HERE!!!!". Then, on top of my sister, my mom comes yelling through out the whole house. "Wait! DO NOT open those gift until the camera is in my hands!!" And my dad, he is usually found on "his" chair, rummaging through his gifts, some of which are already half opened due to his eagerness. As for me, well, I am a sucker. I follow every ones demands, sit in the spot chosen for me, and I listen to what my little sister tells me.
Before this all took place, I was making my Christmas list. It was about mid November, and the only thing I was thinking about was how long we would have to wait for Christmas. Due to my lack of excitement, my Christmas list wasn't really a good one. I was just throwing random things on there, because I didn't really know what I wanted.
After a week went by, I got invited to my friends party. I arrived a little late, hoping that every one wouldn't mind, and, well, they didn't. After several knocks, and waiting in this HARSH December weather, I welcomed myself in. When I walked in to their quite house, I saw ten girls just sitting at the table holding up their smart phones. I set my stuff down, and walked over to the table to say hello. After my hello, I was greeted with some mumbles. I sat down and some talking started, but it wasn't about last weeks football game, or a relationship, it was about their smart phones, and the cool features they had. At that moment, thinking "Hey, maybe this could break the silence!", I pulled out my phone. My phone was broken. I thought it was funny, but I guess not. I carried on anyways. "Wow! Look at all these cool features my phone has! It even has a flash light!" (FYI, it really didn't have a flash light, it was just some light that shined through the broken part on my phone.) I thought I was being funny, but not to anyone else. Right then, and there, I knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas. A White iPhone. (Cue the sounds of the angles..."haaaaaaaaaaa")
In order to make this convincing, I made a list. A list was a perfect idea, because 1. I could get creative. And 2. Because every good idea comes with a list.
Here are a few of my reasoning's:
1. I wouldn't have to sit at parties talking to myself.
2. Ellen DeGeneres has The White iPhone. If I had it, we would practically be twins!
3. Say goodbye to long car rides!
4. I wouldn't have to lug around a phone, and an iPod anymore! It would be combined into one!
5. I could go on Facebook, Blogger, and Tumblr with NO PROBLEM!!
6. I would be considered "cool". Because every one is cool if they have an iPhone.
7. If we got lost, guess what?!? The iPhone has a compass, AND a GPS! I know, it's THAT great!
8. I wouldn't lose my phone anymore because I would be super careful with The iPhone.
9. If I was bored, I could play Angry Birds! Everyone loves a good game of Angry Birds!
10. My face would be "PRICELESS" on Christmas morning if I unwrapped an iPhone. :)
I explained to Santa in my Christmas List all of these great reasons for the iPhone, and I felt like he thought I was crazy.
On Christmas morning, after I was jumped on, and yelled at, I got around to opening my gifts. The sixth gift I opened was a medium sized box. When I violently ripped the paper off, it appeared to be a shoe box. I opened up the box, and saw a TON of bubble rap. (which to me is like a gift, because it is SOOOO entertaining.) Anyways. I unrolled the bubble rap, laughing a few times at the noise it was making, and there, laying at the bottom of the shoe box, on Christmas morning were all my reasons put in one.
Before this all took place, I was making my Christmas list. It was about mid November, and the only thing I was thinking about was how long we would have to wait for Christmas. Due to my lack of excitement, my Christmas list wasn't really a good one. I was just throwing random things on there, because I didn't really know what I wanted.
After a week went by, I got invited to my friends party. I arrived a little late, hoping that every one wouldn't mind, and, well, they didn't. After several knocks, and waiting in this HARSH December weather, I welcomed myself in. When I walked in to their quite house, I saw ten girls just sitting at the table holding up their smart phones. I set my stuff down, and walked over to the table to say hello. After my hello, I was greeted with some mumbles. I sat down and some talking started, but it wasn't about last weeks football game, or a relationship, it was about their smart phones, and the cool features they had. At that moment, thinking "Hey, maybe this could break the silence!", I pulled out my phone. My phone was broken. I thought it was funny, but I guess not. I carried on anyways. "Wow! Look at all these cool features my phone has! It even has a flash light!" (FYI, it really didn't have a flash light, it was just some light that shined through the broken part on my phone.) I thought I was being funny, but not to anyone else. Right then, and there, I knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas. A White iPhone. (Cue the sounds of the angles..."haaaaaaaaaaa")
In order to make this convincing, I made a list. A list was a perfect idea, because 1. I could get creative. And 2. Because every good idea comes with a list.
Here are a few of my reasoning's:
1. I wouldn't have to sit at parties talking to myself.
2. Ellen DeGeneres has The White iPhone. If I had it, we would practically be twins!
3. Say goodbye to long car rides!
4. I wouldn't have to lug around a phone, and an iPod anymore! It would be combined into one!
5. I could go on Facebook, Blogger, and Tumblr with NO PROBLEM!!
6. I would be considered "cool". Because every one is cool if they have an iPhone.
7. If we got lost, guess what?!? The iPhone has a compass, AND a GPS! I know, it's THAT great!
8. I wouldn't lose my phone anymore because I would be super careful with The iPhone.
9. If I was bored, I could play Angry Birds! Everyone loves a good game of Angry Birds!
10. My face would be "PRICELESS" on Christmas morning if I unwrapped an iPhone. :)
I explained to Santa in my Christmas List all of these great reasons for the iPhone, and I felt like he thought I was crazy.
On Christmas morning, after I was jumped on, and yelled at, I got around to opening my gifts. The sixth gift I opened was a medium sized box. When I violently ripped the paper off, it appeared to be a shoe box. I opened up the box, and saw a TON of bubble rap. (which to me is like a gift, because it is SOOOO entertaining.) Anyways. I unrolled the bubble rap, laughing a few times at the noise it was making, and there, laying at the bottom of the shoe box, on Christmas morning were all my reasons put in one.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Identical Twins.
For as long as I can remember, my sister Ashley and I have always looked the same. Everywhere we went, we got told the same thing. Over, and over, and over again. "You two look SO much alike!" OR, my personal favorite "You two MUST be JoAnn Mohler's children!" Yes, yes we are.
My mom is known by at least one person everywhere we go, it's insane. I am pretty sure that they made the saying "It's a small world", with her in mind. We could be anywhere, and she would know somebody. And, if she is not with us, they must think we are "spitting images" of her.
Ashley and I look a lot alike. Yes. But, (and there is always a "But") we are nothing like each other. We are totally opposites. For example; I like broccoli, and she doesn't. Personally, I think it is probably the coolest vegetable because, 1. It is shaped like a tree! How cool is that? 2. They have an amazing flavor! and 3. It is a good side dish with almost ANYTHING! Ashley hates broccoli. Well, in my opinion, she hates all good food.
But, sometimes we could be mistaken as the same person. We wear the same clothes, our hair is the same color, (except her hair is curlier, and I am jealous), and we are almost the same height. And, I have to add that I am about four inches taller than her! That is probably the only thing that makes me feel older than her now a days.
Besides her hair, I am jealous of many more things. When I was eleven, I didn't have as many friends as she had. I spent my Saturday nights in the house, playing Connect Four with my dad, instead she is out on the town hanging out with her friends. She has a social life. I didn't, and I still don't. She has friends that are boys, GASPPPP! And, she is always out going no matter what kind of situation she is in. It takes me a while to warm up.
Today she came and told me about her day at school. Ever since she started middle school, I ask her how her day is every day. I love hearing about her input on the middle school. Sometimes, she comes home and tells me days were harder than others, or that "Annie" broke up with "John" because he used another girl's pencil sharpener. I have heard it all, believe me. But, it is still all so fascinating to me.
Sometimes, she will come home and tell me about her new friends, or her teachers, and how nice, or unfair they are. But, today I got another story. She started off like this...
"Today was good, I learned about the human eye! Did you know that every single baby is born with blue eyes?!?!? Isn't that just, CRAZY?!?! Well, I am doing a project in math, and science. They are both kind of fun, but it's just a lot of work. Ya know?"
I was a little preoccupied at the time, so I answered with "Yeah, really? Wow, that's cool. Auhh huhh, yep, sounds interesting."
After my response, she started to walk away. After she hit the end of the living room, she came shooting back into the room screaming "Guess who stopped me in the hallway?!?" At that point, I stopped what I was doing, dropped my binder filled with studding material, and screamed "WHOOOOOOO!!!???!?!?"
She carried on...
"Well, Mr. Masico" (who was my 6th grade teacher) "Came up to me, and my friends as we were walking to lunch. He pulled me aside, and at first I thought I was getting in trouble for something, but then I heard "the question". He asked me if I had a sister named Amanda, and he told me we looked like identical twins. When he said bye to me, he screamed 'Bye Mini Mohler', just like every other teacher I have ever had."
Mini Mohler. That's referring to ME, she is the "mini" me! She might not like it, but I do.
I'm jealous that she has that nickname. But, I practically set that name up for her. I know she secretly likes it, and even though she won't admit it, that's okay. That's something we both have in common, we never like to admit things to each other. And, honestly, that's what makes us sisters.
My mom is known by at least one person everywhere we go, it's insane. I am pretty sure that they made the saying "It's a small world", with her in mind. We could be anywhere, and she would know somebody. And, if she is not with us, they must think we are "spitting images" of her.
Ashley and I look a lot alike. Yes. But, (and there is always a "But") we are nothing like each other. We are totally opposites. For example; I like broccoli, and she doesn't. Personally, I think it is probably the coolest vegetable because, 1. It is shaped like a tree! How cool is that? 2. They have an amazing flavor! and 3. It is a good side dish with almost ANYTHING! Ashley hates broccoli. Well, in my opinion, she hates all good food.
But, sometimes we could be mistaken as the same person. We wear the same clothes, our hair is the same color, (except her hair is curlier, and I am jealous), and we are almost the same height. And, I have to add that I am about four inches taller than her! That is probably the only thing that makes me feel older than her now a days.
Besides her hair, I am jealous of many more things. When I was eleven, I didn't have as many friends as she had. I spent my Saturday nights in the house, playing Connect Four with my dad, instead she is out on the town hanging out with her friends. She has a social life. I didn't, and I still don't. She has friends that are boys, GASPPPP! And, she is always out going no matter what kind of situation she is in. It takes me a while to warm up.
Today she came and told me about her day at school. Ever since she started middle school, I ask her how her day is every day. I love hearing about her input on the middle school. Sometimes, she comes home and tells me days were harder than others, or that "Annie" broke up with "John" because he used another girl's pencil sharpener. I have heard it all, believe me. But, it is still all so fascinating to me.
Sometimes, she will come home and tell me about her new friends, or her teachers, and how nice, or unfair they are. But, today I got another story. She started off like this...
"Today was good, I learned about the human eye! Did you know that every single baby is born with blue eyes?!?!? Isn't that just, CRAZY?!?! Well, I am doing a project in math, and science. They are both kind of fun, but it's just a lot of work. Ya know?"
I was a little preoccupied at the time, so I answered with "Yeah, really? Wow, that's cool. Auhh huhh, yep, sounds interesting."
After my response, she started to walk away. After she hit the end of the living room, she came shooting back into the room screaming "Guess who stopped me in the hallway?!?" At that point, I stopped what I was doing, dropped my binder filled with studding material, and screamed "WHOOOOOOO!!!???!?!?"
She carried on...
"Well, Mr. Masico" (who was my 6th grade teacher) "Came up to me, and my friends as we were walking to lunch. He pulled me aside, and at first I thought I was getting in trouble for something, but then I heard "the question". He asked me if I had a sister named Amanda, and he told me we looked like identical twins. When he said bye to me, he screamed 'Bye Mini Mohler', just like every other teacher I have ever had."
Mini Mohler. That's referring to ME, she is the "mini" me! She might not like it, but I do.
I'm jealous that she has that nickname. But, I practically set that name up for her. I know she secretly likes it, and even though she won't admit it, that's okay. That's something we both have in common, we never like to admit things to each other. And, honestly, that's what makes us sisters.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Two Years In The Making.
Today, as I sat in my small health class surrounded by nine girls, something hit me. We were watching a movie called 28 Days. It was an "okay" movie, but, just like every other movie, there was that one moment where you just zone out. I "zoned" out for a good five minutes. I was pondering on, and on about the changes in my life, and how some of them payed off.
Two years ago, I had this crazy idea in my mind that I wanted to attend a Catholic high school. Everyone thought I was crazy, and that it was just a "phase".
And in the end...well, I won't ruin it for you.
Anyways, I was in eighth grade. I was absolutely, positively sure that it was the best year of my life, and man was I right. I had amazing friends, great teachers, and I loved waking up in the morning. People would think I was an absolute "nut ball" because I loved school that much.
When April came around, we had our guidance counselor come in to talk to us about our high school schedules. He helped us make our schedules, and prepare ourselves for the upcoming year. Everyone was excited, besides me. I am pretty sure, out of my graduation class of four-hundred and fifty students, I was one of five who were not excited for the next year. It wasn't until that moment where I started dreading waking up in the morning. Every day I woke up lead to another day closer to high school. I was modified. I talked to everyone I could to try to get input on the high school, but everyone had the exact same reply. They thought it was amazing, and I quote, "It's so much more freedom." Freedom. One thing I did not want. I liked the amount of freedom I was already receiving at the middle school, and I would be fine without more freedom.
After that I did everything I could to try to hold back high school. At one point, I had the idea of failing come to mind, but it was such an absurd idea. I could never, ever go through with that anyways. My one friend was in the same "boat" as I was. She didn't want to go to the high school, in fact she was looking into better options that didn't seem as scary. Said friend was looking into a Catholic high school. One with a better environment, and a better "feeling". Being her friend I went with her on her shadow dates to explore the schools, and see how high school would be.
After the end of the year quickly passed by, I hadn't made up my mind. I was planing on starting my Freshmen year at the Freedom high school. That year was one of the hardest for me. I had lost some friends, and I hated getting up in the morning. Every day I would have a study hall, that I did not use for studying. I didn't use it for homework, or listening to my iPod and texting like every other student in the room. I used that time to write. I wrote about high school, and how it has effected me.
As Amanda, I keep all my old things. I am NOT a hoarder! I have it all tucked away, neatly in my memory box that I made in second grade. Everything is in there. My old notes, my letters, my favorite picture, things I got from people that I absolutely adored. Everything. The other day I decided to go through it, which I do A LOT. I like to re-read things, and look at old memories. At the bottom of the box I found the journal that I used during my study halls. I had one specific page that I love to read. Here is a little bit of it.
If I were to switch school...
What would happen? These are the things I am scared of.
1) What people would say...?
2) Would I lose all my old friends...?
3) I wouldn't be afraid to ask questions.
4) It would be ALL girls, no boys= no distractions.
5) No fights.
6) No drugs.
7) Would I be a lot happier...?
There were several more, along with other side notes, but this one really stood out to me. Today when I was "zoning" out, I was interrupted by the song Lean On Me. That song lead me right back to the memories of middle school.
We would listen to that song every Friday, it was like the schools "anthem". As I was humming along in my head, I couldn't help but think about one special time I had heard the song. I was sitting in my guidance counselors office making a Pros's and Con's list for high school. My counselor was like my go-to guy. I trusted him with everything, and I always took his advise to heart. I went down to talk to him on a Friday morning to tell him about my shadow at Mt. Mercy. We were making a list of all the things I liked, and disliked.
The song kept playing on and on, as the credits disappeared when they hit the top of the smart board. I sat there just thinking about how all of that, lead to this. I thought about how those two years, helped me get to where I am today.
Today, I sat there surrounded by my class of nine thinking about what a great decision I had made. I thought about all the good times I had in middle school, and how I was re-living them two years later. Thinking about how I love getting up every morning and knowing I am going somewhere I love. And, how I might have lost some friends, but I gained forty-five new ones. After all, it was two years in the making.
Two years ago, I had this crazy idea in my mind that I wanted to attend a Catholic high school. Everyone thought I was crazy, and that it was just a "phase".
And in the end...well, I won't ruin it for you.
Anyways, I was in eighth grade. I was absolutely, positively sure that it was the best year of my life, and man was I right. I had amazing friends, great teachers, and I loved waking up in the morning. People would think I was an absolute "nut ball" because I loved school that much.
When April came around, we had our guidance counselor come in to talk to us about our high school schedules. He helped us make our schedules, and prepare ourselves for the upcoming year. Everyone was excited, besides me. I am pretty sure, out of my graduation class of four-hundred and fifty students, I was one of five who were not excited for the next year. It wasn't until that moment where I started dreading waking up in the morning. Every day I woke up lead to another day closer to high school. I was modified. I talked to everyone I could to try to get input on the high school, but everyone had the exact same reply. They thought it was amazing, and I quote, "It's so much more freedom." Freedom. One thing I did not want. I liked the amount of freedom I was already receiving at the middle school, and I would be fine without more freedom.
After that I did everything I could to try to hold back high school. At one point, I had the idea of failing come to mind, but it was such an absurd idea. I could never, ever go through with that anyways. My one friend was in the same "boat" as I was. She didn't want to go to the high school, in fact she was looking into better options that didn't seem as scary. Said friend was looking into a Catholic high school. One with a better environment, and a better "feeling". Being her friend I went with her on her shadow dates to explore the schools, and see how high school would be.
After the end of the year quickly passed by, I hadn't made up my mind. I was planing on starting my Freshmen year at the Freedom high school. That year was one of the hardest for me. I had lost some friends, and I hated getting up in the morning. Every day I would have a study hall, that I did not use for studying. I didn't use it for homework, or listening to my iPod and texting like every other student in the room. I used that time to write. I wrote about high school, and how it has effected me.
As Amanda, I keep all my old things. I am NOT a hoarder! I have it all tucked away, neatly in my memory box that I made in second grade. Everything is in there. My old notes, my letters, my favorite picture, things I got from people that I absolutely adored. Everything. The other day I decided to go through it, which I do A LOT. I like to re-read things, and look at old memories. At the bottom of the box I found the journal that I used during my study halls. I had one specific page that I love to read. Here is a little bit of it.
If I were to switch school...
What would happen? These are the things I am scared of.
1) What people would say...?
2) Would I lose all my old friends...?
3) I wouldn't be afraid to ask questions.
4) It would be ALL girls, no boys= no distractions.
5) No fights.
6) No drugs.
7) Would I be a lot happier...?
There were several more, along with other side notes, but this one really stood out to me. Today when I was "zoning" out, I was interrupted by the song Lean On Me. That song lead me right back to the memories of middle school.
We would listen to that song every Friday, it was like the schools "anthem". As I was humming along in my head, I couldn't help but think about one special time I had heard the song. I was sitting in my guidance counselors office making a Pros's and Con's list for high school. My counselor was like my go-to guy. I trusted him with everything, and I always took his advise to heart. I went down to talk to him on a Friday morning to tell him about my shadow at Mt. Mercy. We were making a list of all the things I liked, and disliked.
The song kept playing on and on, as the credits disappeared when they hit the top of the smart board. I sat there just thinking about how all of that, lead to this. I thought about how those two years, helped me get to where I am today.
Today, I sat there surrounded by my class of nine thinking about what a great decision I had made. I thought about all the good times I had in middle school, and how I was re-living them two years later. Thinking about how I love getting up every morning and knowing I am going somewhere I love. And, how I might have lost some friends, but I gained forty-five new ones. After all, it was two years in the making.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Thank God For Ibuprofen!
A few years ago, I thought I wanted to be an orthodontist. I would write essays, create projects, and talk about the subject of orthodontics all the time. I had ideas written down about my office, and my co-workers. I planned on, when, and if I got married, I wouldn't change my last name. I would be Dr. Mohler. My life would be perfect. I would be waking up doing something I loved, living in a giant mansion, and have the best name in the state. Everyone would want to come to me But, just like every human being on this earth, my ideas and opinion changed.
In eighth I did a project about my, at the time, dream job. I was excited, but at the same time nervous to present my ideas to my class. I was confident that my essay was the best, my presentation was amazing, and my visuals were outstanding. I knew I was going to get a good grade. I researched for about two weeks, learning everything I possibly could about becoming an orthodontist. I also talked to my orthodontist about the project, and he was kind enough to let me use a few items to show to the class. Right then, and there, I knew my project was going to be the Best of the Best. After researching, I had found some interesting facts that just blew my mind away. From there, I continued on reading on and on, in hopes I would find more facts worthy of a one-hundred. After the second week of researching, I began to lose interest in the subject. Everything I had read, I over though, and it soon became "gross" in my mind. Then, the though of sticking my hands in other people's mouths hit me, and I officially threw my hands up. I carried on with the subject for the remainder of my project, but my heart wasn't in it fully. I had though my passion for orthodontics had been one.
On August 8th, 2010 something terrible had happened to me. I took it as a message from God, telling me that orthodontics WAS in fact my thing, but, he must have though I just needed a reminder. It was my softball end of the year party. The right fielder was hosting the party, which I though was awesome because she had a pool. At the time, yeah, it was great. But, once again, my opinion changed. My teammates and I were all getting ready to go into the pool, and start playing games. We even were good, and waited thirty minutes to go swimming. But, being good must have not been enough for me, I might have only waited twenty-five minutes, and Karma came back to haunt me. All my friends were getting in the pool by going off the slide. I was the last to get in. They were all doing these really, really RISKY tricks off the slide that looked cool, but they turned out to be a bad idea. After I sat in the Luke warm water watching all my "crazy" friends do flips and different stunts, they were all chanting my name. "AMANDA, AMANDA, AMANDA!" I knew the tricks were dangerous, and I was definitely not going to be preforming them, so I proceeded to the slide and went down on my bottom, in hopes I would be receiving a metal for the safest way down a slide, but I wasn't. My friends were booing at me. They kept telling me that was "too safe", and that I needed to do something really cool. I gave them a smile, but hidden behind it was fear. I walked up to the slide again, stood at the top and proceed to tell them that I have never been down a slide head first. They all looked shocked, but continued on chanting "DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!"
Here is my advise to you in this part of the story. Never, EVER go down a slide head first. It's dangerous, it's stupid, and it is just wrong. Slides were meant to go down with your feet in front of you, not BEHIND you.
Anyways...
When I positioned myself at the top of the slide, I looked down to see all my friends waiting for me. I opened my arms like a bird, and slowly pushed myself away from the slide. I closed my eyes, and smiled a great big "Amanda Mohler" smile. When I hit the water, I felt nothing. Everything went silent as the water filled my ears. I felt my face hit something, but I wasn't sure what it was. I kicked off of the bottom of the pool, and shot up to the surface. When the water came streaming out of my mouth, I felt instant pain in my front teeth. Everyone was cheering, and screaming for me, but my screaming over powered them. They all stopped, and watched water flow down my face not knowing if it was excess water from the pool, or tears. They were tears. I was screaming gibberish but, fitting in real words that made everyone rush over to me. I walked over to the edge of the pool screaming that someone would wake me up from this horrible nightmare, but no one did. After a soild thirty seconds, all the mothers came running over, and helped me out of the pool. I ended up chipping more than half of my tooth, and making other front one wiggley.
Yesterday, as I sat in a chair with a light and an orthodotist leaning over me with their hands in my mouth, I couldn't help but think of those times. I blocked every sound out, and just thought about that moment, and how I felt. I was completely devestated. I looked at my orthodontists (beautuiful sky blue eyes) as he was trying to tell me something. I flashed back into the chair. He was telling me about what changes he had made to my retainer, and how I will be feeling alittle bit of discomfort. I did somewhat of a nod, and put it back into my mouth.
Here I am, a day later wishing I didn't have to have this STUPID, painful, ugly retainer in my mouth. Hoping that the one tooth that is in need of fixing could just move to the right spot, and STAY there. I am waiting for the day that I can burn all my retainers that have ever costed me a great meal that I couldn't chew, or the pain I had to be in well I layed on the couch. Here I am, with this foolish retainer in my mouth, and a new best friend. Ibuprofen.
In eighth I did a project about my, at the time, dream job. I was excited, but at the same time nervous to present my ideas to my class. I was confident that my essay was the best, my presentation was amazing, and my visuals were outstanding. I knew I was going to get a good grade. I researched for about two weeks, learning everything I possibly could about becoming an orthodontist. I also talked to my orthodontist about the project, and he was kind enough to let me use a few items to show to the class. Right then, and there, I knew my project was going to be the Best of the Best. After researching, I had found some interesting facts that just blew my mind away. From there, I continued on reading on and on, in hopes I would find more facts worthy of a one-hundred. After the second week of researching, I began to lose interest in the subject. Everything I had read, I over though, and it soon became "gross" in my mind. Then, the though of sticking my hands in other people's mouths hit me, and I officially threw my hands up. I carried on with the subject for the remainder of my project, but my heart wasn't in it fully. I had though my passion for orthodontics had been one.
On August 8th, 2010 something terrible had happened to me. I took it as a message from God, telling me that orthodontics WAS in fact my thing, but, he must have though I just needed a reminder. It was my softball end of the year party. The right fielder was hosting the party, which I though was awesome because she had a pool. At the time, yeah, it was great. But, once again, my opinion changed. My teammates and I were all getting ready to go into the pool, and start playing games. We even were good, and waited thirty minutes to go swimming. But, being good must have not been enough for me, I might have only waited twenty-five minutes, and Karma came back to haunt me. All my friends were getting in the pool by going off the slide. I was the last to get in. They were all doing these really, really RISKY tricks off the slide that looked cool, but they turned out to be a bad idea. After I sat in the Luke warm water watching all my "crazy" friends do flips and different stunts, they were all chanting my name. "AMANDA, AMANDA, AMANDA!" I knew the tricks were dangerous, and I was definitely not going to be preforming them, so I proceeded to the slide and went down on my bottom, in hopes I would be receiving a metal for the safest way down a slide, but I wasn't. My friends were booing at me. They kept telling me that was "too safe", and that I needed to do something really cool. I gave them a smile, but hidden behind it was fear. I walked up to the slide again, stood at the top and proceed to tell them that I have never been down a slide head first. They all looked shocked, but continued on chanting "DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!"
Here is my advise to you in this part of the story. Never, EVER go down a slide head first. It's dangerous, it's stupid, and it is just wrong. Slides were meant to go down with your feet in front of you, not BEHIND you.
Anyways...
When I positioned myself at the top of the slide, I looked down to see all my friends waiting for me. I opened my arms like a bird, and slowly pushed myself away from the slide. I closed my eyes, and smiled a great big "Amanda Mohler" smile. When I hit the water, I felt nothing. Everything went silent as the water filled my ears. I felt my face hit something, but I wasn't sure what it was. I kicked off of the bottom of the pool, and shot up to the surface. When the water came streaming out of my mouth, I felt instant pain in my front teeth. Everyone was cheering, and screaming for me, but my screaming over powered them. They all stopped, and watched water flow down my face not knowing if it was excess water from the pool, or tears. They were tears. I was screaming gibberish but, fitting in real words that made everyone rush over to me. I walked over to the edge of the pool screaming that someone would wake me up from this horrible nightmare, but no one did. After a soild thirty seconds, all the mothers came running over, and helped me out of the pool. I ended up chipping more than half of my tooth, and making other front one wiggley.
Yesterday, as I sat in a chair with a light and an orthodotist leaning over me with their hands in my mouth, I couldn't help but think of those times. I blocked every sound out, and just thought about that moment, and how I felt. I was completely devestated. I looked at my orthodontists (beautuiful sky blue eyes) as he was trying to tell me something. I flashed back into the chair. He was telling me about what changes he had made to my retainer, and how I will be feeling alittle bit of discomfort. I did somewhat of a nod, and put it back into my mouth.
Here I am, a day later wishing I didn't have to have this STUPID, painful, ugly retainer in my mouth. Hoping that the one tooth that is in need of fixing could just move to the right spot, and STAY there. I am waiting for the day that I can burn all my retainers that have ever costed me a great meal that I couldn't chew, or the pain I had to be in well I layed on the couch. Here I am, with this foolish retainer in my mouth, and a new best friend. Ibuprofen.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Laughing Out Loud.
Yes, I am one of those people. I sit by myself, completely alone, and I laugh. I laugh until I can not laugh anymore. It's embarrassing. I know, I have been told. I will be watching one of my DVRed shows, something funny will happen, and I will burst out into laughter. Thank God for DVR! As soon as my laughter breaks out I pause the show, and if it is that funny...Yes, I will rewind, and watch it again.
After I finish watching the same ten seconds over, and over again, I continue on with my show.
It's sort of like a disease. Or, if I wanted to look at the glass half full, it's a gift. Let's not be humble here. It's a disease, a bad one too. The symptoms are, 1) sitting by yourself...CHECK. 2) Not being able to hold a drink in your hand, because you are too afraid you are going to spill it as you break out hysterically...CHECK. 3) Second guessing if you need to change your pants after your laughter break out...CHECK.
It's definitely a disease. But, I can't help it. I'm a lonely, crazy "LOL-er". It's not my fault, though, it's the shows I watch. They are all full of hilarious people, with hilarious lines. The Big Bang Theory, Glee, Modern Family, Suburagatory, The Ellen Show, and many more. They are the reason all my pants are in the wash, and there are multiple stains on my carpet, (just an exaggeration, it fit in there well. My house really doesn't have grape juice stains everywhere). Anyways, it's there fault I "caught" this disease. Blame them, not me.
What makes me ponder, is that I laugh at the stupidest things that anyone could say. For example, today I was catching up on all my shows, and I was watching Friday's Ellen. She made the corniest joke, ever, but, I still laughed. WAIT!! That was a bad example. Ellen is just funny in general. Ummm, Ohhh. I got one! Today, I was watching The Big Bang Theory, and they made an inappropriate joke, and I laughed so hard. Why the HECKKKKK did I laugh?!?! It was rude, foul, and very inappropriate! Maybe that show wasn't a good example.
My point is that, well, I don't really have a point. But, I am hoping I am not the only one suffering from LOLastrofia. (Just a fancy name I made up for someone who sits alone and laughs out loud). I'm a victim of LOLastrofia, and I am not afraid to admit it. Now, my glass is being looked at half full, but from a distance. I can't afford another stain.
After I finish watching the same ten seconds over, and over again, I continue on with my show.
It's sort of like a disease. Or, if I wanted to look at the glass half full, it's a gift. Let's not be humble here. It's a disease, a bad one too. The symptoms are, 1) sitting by yourself...CHECK. 2) Not being able to hold a drink in your hand, because you are too afraid you are going to spill it as you break out hysterically...CHECK. 3) Second guessing if you need to change your pants after your laughter break out...CHECK.
It's definitely a disease. But, I can't help it. I'm a lonely, crazy "LOL-er". It's not my fault, though, it's the shows I watch. They are all full of hilarious people, with hilarious lines. The Big Bang Theory, Glee, Modern Family, Suburagatory, The Ellen Show, and many more. They are the reason all my pants are in the wash, and there are multiple stains on my carpet, (just an exaggeration, it fit in there well. My house really doesn't have grape juice stains everywhere). Anyways, it's there fault I "caught" this disease. Blame them, not me.
What makes me ponder, is that I laugh at the stupidest things that anyone could say. For example, today I was catching up on all my shows, and I was watching Friday's Ellen. She made the corniest joke, ever, but, I still laughed. WAIT!! That was a bad example. Ellen is just funny in general. Ummm, Ohhh. I got one! Today, I was watching The Big Bang Theory, and they made an inappropriate joke, and I laughed so hard. Why the HECKKKKK did I laugh?!?! It was rude, foul, and very inappropriate! Maybe that show wasn't a good example.
My point is that, well, I don't really have a point. But, I am hoping I am not the only one suffering from LOLastrofia. (Just a fancy name I made up for someone who sits alone and laughs out loud). I'm a victim of LOLastrofia, and I am not afraid to admit it. Now, my glass is being looked at half full, but from a distance. I can't afford another stain.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Not So "Normal".
Normal. It's a word many people are supposed to "act" up to. It never happens. Its just like being perfect, no one is. Therefore, no one is normal.
Here I am, at 9:19 in the morning, laying on my friends couch watching my seven other friends sleep. It's crazy! They just all lay there like normal teenagers. They sleep in until noon, or even longer.
Here I am at 9:23 pondering about this normal teenager sleeping situation. Does it make me not normal if I am awake? But, even if I tried to sleep, I couldn't. I'm not normal. I have never slept in. That word is not even in my vocabulary.
Wait! There is alwaaaayyys an exception. The day after New Years last year, I slept till 9:45. It was insane! I felt like a bum, like my whole day was wasted. But, then I just looked to my right and saw my other friends sleeping. So, does that still count as sleeping in?
There are SO many things you can be doing except for sleeping, or watching your friends sleep. I will make a list for the rest of the "non-normal" people out there.
1. You could build a fort- why not? It's a blast! You could, (hopefully), find a friend who is awake to join you.
2. Make some food- maybe try out a new recipe you have dying to try.
3. Make a craft- it is the holiday season, maybe a nice colored wreath, or a picture of a tree.
4. Start watching a new show- that's what I did, and now I'm addicted to Desperate Housewives.
5. Call someone- no one talks on the phone anymore. EVER. It's like a sin now, everything HAS I be in text formation.
I hope those suggestions helped all you "non-normal" people out there. Some have worked in the past, but, just a fair warning about number two. If you are going to try a new recipe, that's great! But, if you are at someone else's house, 1. Don't make a mess. 2. Don't start a fire. And 3. If you are going to try a new recipe, make sure you remotely know how to preform it.
So, here I am at 9:39, waiting for my friends to wake up. I am sitting in my fort, eating some chicken pot pie, coloring a Christmas tree from a coloring book, talking to my friend on the phone, and watching Desperate Housewives on Netflix. Pssh, and they say I'm not "normal".
Here I am, at 9:19 in the morning, laying on my friends couch watching my seven other friends sleep. It's crazy! They just all lay there like normal teenagers. They sleep in until noon, or even longer.
Here I am at 9:23 pondering about this normal teenager sleeping situation. Does it make me not normal if I am awake? But, even if I tried to sleep, I couldn't. I'm not normal. I have never slept in. That word is not even in my vocabulary.
Wait! There is alwaaaayyys an exception. The day after New Years last year, I slept till 9:45. It was insane! I felt like a bum, like my whole day was wasted. But, then I just looked to my right and saw my other friends sleeping. So, does that still count as sleeping in?
There are SO many things you can be doing except for sleeping, or watching your friends sleep. I will make a list for the rest of the "non-normal" people out there.
1. You could build a fort- why not? It's a blast! You could, (hopefully), find a friend who is awake to join you.
2. Make some food- maybe try out a new recipe you have dying to try.
3. Make a craft- it is the holiday season, maybe a nice colored wreath, or a picture of a tree.
4. Start watching a new show- that's what I did, and now I'm addicted to Desperate Housewives.
5. Call someone- no one talks on the phone anymore. EVER. It's like a sin now, everything HAS I be in text formation.
I hope those suggestions helped all you "non-normal" people out there. Some have worked in the past, but, just a fair warning about number two. If you are going to try a new recipe, that's great! But, if you are at someone else's house, 1. Don't make a mess. 2. Don't start a fire. And 3. If you are going to try a new recipe, make sure you remotely know how to preform it.
So, here I am at 9:39, waiting for my friends to wake up. I am sitting in my fort, eating some chicken pot pie, coloring a Christmas tree from a coloring book, talking to my friend on the phone, and watching Desperate Housewives on Netflix. Pssh, and they say I'm not "normal".
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