I shall ever be known as the chick with way too much swagg to be healthy. Wait, what?


I had Strep, as you guys prolly know if you pay any attention at all to my bloggeratingery.

Now I’m really sick again with a flu that does not allow me to eat, but does not cause me to puke.

I feel like a failed bulemic.

I’m cold all the time, my body aches, my throat hurts, I’m tired, and I have this weird symptom where I complain A LOT to strangers who read my blog.

The thing is, I’m absolutely positive I would feel at least 4% better if I had a cute boy to snuggle with.

This is where I go like those bloggers who ask for monetary donations or ask for people to send them books.

Send me an incredibly cute mail-order snuggle boy.

He has to be age-appropriate. I don’t want snuggles from 3-year olds and I don’t want snuggles from anyone 27 and up. Unless it’s Jared Leto, Channing Tatum, Jared Padelecki, Jenson Ackles, etc.

Then it’s perfectly fine and screw their wives!

Okay, so today we’re going to discuss bad grades.

Right now, I have them, because I was gone from school for a week with Strep, didn’t get all my late work in before thanksgiving break, and now am sick again.

Wow, some dqys my life really does suck, doesn’t it?

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY YES!

I’d like to apologize to B.E, because I was going to use your stuff in this blog post, but I can’t from my phone. Pooey. I still love you.

By the way, what is a topic you would like me to discuss, world?

I’m really truly smart enough to discuss a TON of things, and if I can’t I bullshit, and if that doesn’t work I use this cool thing people call

COPY AND PASTE!

Soooo, back to grades. I’m a Junior. I need really good grades, because this is the year that really counts!

Also, I need to get into my college of choice. Just sayin’.

I have a ton of late social studies assignments due, and I’m really freaking out bad because it’s taking all my energy just to type this, much less write a fourteen page outline on the reasons why the U.S and Japan got involved in WWII!

This blog probably isn’t interesting anyone at all, and for that, I am incredibly sorry. It is just not my day to be witty or stupidly funny, and the thing is, I thought my last blog post was fucking hilarious and

You did not.

So, that is incredibly sad.

Let’s talk about my mum’s car.

It’s choking and dying.

This is where you go:

“Ohhh that’s so sadddd!”

Because, really, it is. See, what if it was a Transformer?

Even if it’s not, we can barely afford to put food on the table (thank you, state food stamps for helping us out with that), much less get a new car.

It’s a sad sad story, and I’m kind of hoping you at least did a sympathetic

“Awwww :-(.”

For our troubles.

I’m gonna wrap this up now, since I have nothing more to say to you right now.

“Dear future me,
I don’t care if you get fat.
But I do have dreams and aspirations, so don’t let me down.

Telea.”

– a letter to the future me.

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About mylifeinheartbeats

Telea is an aspiring Musician who spends too much time aspiring to be a Writer who thinks she's a Comedian. There's not much more to know, except for everything. Telea has a tendency to not think before she speaks or acts. She enjoys chocolate, long walks on the beach, and talking about herself in the third person. She wants to get to know you, so please send her your Name, Address, and SSN. Telea promises that, though she has indeed committed one count of Lewd and Lascivious behavior (to be tried under a court of law), she is a good person and will not intentionally harm you/expose herself to you/hate you for your stupid perspectives/axe-murder you. Telea believes in the greater good, Nutella, peace, free love for all, and snuggles. She chooses Bacon over you, unless you come bearing bacon. She is a fat woman trapped inside a curvy woman's body. She is not for sale unless the price tag you put on her has something to do with world peace. She will sell herself for world peace. She hopes in the deepest of her heart places that you will enjoy her blog and find reason to follow it. Telea thanks you.

One response »

  1. “I feel like a failed bulemic!”(sic)

    I bet right before he died John Bonham had that same thought.

    Reply

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