In English, we are reading Les Miserables. And we're aren't watching the musical either. Not that I've seen the musical, it's just that it'd be easier to follow than the book. THE BOOK THAT CUTS LIKE A GIANT BUNCH OUT OF FANTINE!
As you can see, I am *le miserable. I don't like the book because it's confusing and boring and it's ugh.
And on a somewhat related note, I am *le miserable because I found out today that the stitches on my right index finger didn't heal together, so now I may need plastic surgery.
Cheese Face out.
24 February 2012
14 February 2012
A Rather Exciting Way to End a Rather Boring Sunday
Hello, people of the internet. I, Cheese Face, am here to bring you comedy from a not-so comedic travesty.
On Sunday, it was rather quiet. I was upstairs watching TV, hanging up paintings, and working on homework. After that I decided to come downstairs and play on the computer. I logged into Tumblr and found a post that made me giggle. It was about Colonel Sanders and how his tie makes it look like he has a big head and a small body. I called my brother into the kitchen to see and he said the grammar was wrong(for it said "Big head, small body. You can never unsee it"). I said no it was correct, blah, blah, blah. He was sharpening his pocketknife. The next thing I remember is he hit me, I hit him back and try to go back to the computer, but my brother hits me again harder and all I can remember is seeing blood and screaming.
Then I'm at the hospital, crying hysterically and clutching my hand in some paper towels from my house. Then I'm led into a room and I'm waiting for the PA dude to some stitch me up. My mom and I then start cracking Sherlock and Doctor Who jokes to pass the time and to get me to calm down. Then the PA dude comes in and says he has to numb my fingers with stuff and he needs to give me a few shots. I'm like, "Oh, no, not needles. I freaking hate needles." He gives me the shots and I scream. Loud. So loud my dad said he could hear me from the waiting room.
About 10-15 more minutes of Wholock (Sherlock and Doctor Who) jokes later, they stitch me up. And then I have to wait about 10 more minutes for them to clean me up and bandage me.
I now have 4 or 5 stiches in my index finder, 2-3 stitches on my middle finger, and a small cut on the back of my index finger.
And I can barely write, let alone type. Typing John Watson style, one letter at a time.
Cheese Face out.
On Sunday, it was rather quiet. I was upstairs watching TV, hanging up paintings, and working on homework. After that I decided to come downstairs and play on the computer. I logged into Tumblr and found a post that made me giggle. It was about Colonel Sanders and how his tie makes it look like he has a big head and a small body. I called my brother into the kitchen to see and he said the grammar was wrong(for it said "Big head, small body. You can never unsee it"). I said no it was correct, blah, blah, blah. He was sharpening his pocketknife. The next thing I remember is he hit me, I hit him back and try to go back to the computer, but my brother hits me again harder and all I can remember is seeing blood and screaming.
Then I'm at the hospital, crying hysterically and clutching my hand in some paper towels from my house. Then I'm led into a room and I'm waiting for the PA dude to some stitch me up. My mom and I then start cracking Sherlock and Doctor Who jokes to pass the time and to get me to calm down. Then the PA dude comes in and says he has to numb my fingers with stuff and he needs to give me a few shots. I'm like, "Oh, no, not needles. I freaking hate needles." He gives me the shots and I scream. Loud. So loud my dad said he could hear me from the waiting room.
About 10-15 more minutes of Wholock (Sherlock and Doctor Who) jokes later, they stitch me up. And then I have to wait about 10 more minutes for them to clean me up and bandage me.
I now have 4 or 5 stiches in my index finder, 2-3 stitches on my middle finger, and a small cut on the back of my index finger.
And I can barely write, let alone type. Typing John Watson style, one letter at a time.
Cheese Face out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)