Archive | August 2013

Paris by Night

Paris. A legendary city, in more ways than one. I assume that if you’re in a couple, walking through the “City of Love” at night under the twinkling streetlights on the small cobblestone alleys may seem very romantic, but since I am forever alone, I can calmly say 1) keep your mushy feelings to yourself, they make me quite jealous and 2) it’s a lot scarier when you’re all by yourself and those twinkling streetlights look like they’re winking creepily at you.

When I was little I was, like most kids, afraid of the dark. Thinking back this may have been due to the excessive amount of Calvin and Hobbes that I read before bed, where the whole “monsters under the bed” thing scared the sh*t out of me. As I grew up in Normandy I slowly conquered my fear of the black void that filled the room when my mom turned out the lights. I started being able to go outside all by myself and soon discovered the magnificence of Normandy/the countryside at night, the stars shining down on me reassuringly, the dog at my side. With no neighbors, there was never any threat, any danger.

Paris proved to be a very different experience (dare I say, duh? No? Okay then). I couldn’t see the stars anymore, there were no more familiar constellations guiding me, only the cold eery glow of electricity. For the first few years I didn’t know much of Paris at night, being occupied mostly by being awesome too young. But now, a junior in high school, I’m allowed to go out and only come back around 1 am. My family, being too busy with stuff like yelling at each other for no good reason, doesn’t care if I don’t come back for the night at all. As for coming to get me so I won’t have to make the journey alone? No way. Confronted with this apparent lack of caring, I started fending for ME and walking myself home.

Nonetheless, it’s spooky to watch all of your friends leave with their parents in safe warm cars and knowing that you have to walk all the way home, your awful (they really are terrible) self-defense skills being the only thing keeping you from potentially being mugged. And of course the only story you can think of is of the girl who got mugged on your street a few years back.

As I left my friend’s tonight, I shivered slightly even though the temperature was still high, and set off at a brisk walk through the deserted streets, trying to look (and feel) confident. I’ve become pretty paranoid, despite all of my attempts to be calm. Every person that I cross is immediately perceived as a threat, at which point I generally start running (bad idea?) only to then realize that it’s a frail old grandmother walking her poodle. Ah well. Paris is very different from, say, New York. The majority of French people go to bed relatively early, so you don’t see many humans out at midnight, though aliens abound. Even if you’re walking with someone or in a group, the atmosphere is very different, it’s hard to compare the Avenue Henri Martin in the daytime, a bustling, busy avenue, with the Avenue Henri Martin at night, tall trees casting shadows over the sidewalk, masking the faint light from the streetlamps. Night and day really are two different worlds. With sore blisters on my feet I ran most of the way back, heart pounding, clutching the bag from which I’d been careful enough to remove all valuables from. I took the trip one segment at a time, avoiding the smaller, darker streets, trying to blend in with my surroundings. When I finally made it to my apartment, forehead gleaming with sweat, muscles aching, I felt a singular sense of relief. I was finally safe.

Oh and look, my mom and brother engaged in a screaming match at one in the morning. Not so much as a look when I came in. How nice. Luckily for my insulted being, my amazing friends were kind enough to check up on me, making sure that I’d gotten home safely. I had, and I always do. Yet for some reason I get a little more scared each time, sure that I’m the perfect target. Despite all of this, I will not miss out on the wonderful nights with my friends. Whatever comes my way, I will face it, alone. And if it happens to be a threat, I will either willingly give up what they ask for or offer them a cookie as compensation.

The world is very big, and in perspective, I’m just a tiny speck of dust. As I finish writing this post, I find myself feeling more confident. To be fair, I’m also sitting on my couch, blocking out all high pitched noises with a cup of tea. Nevertheless, this small speck of dust will do anything to keep from being blown away in the breeze, and, hopefully, will grow into something like a mothball in terms of importance and influence. I now realize that that isn’t a very good metaphor, and if you have a better suggestion, I will hear it willingly.

Also, when I have kids, no matter where they are or what time it is, I will always be there to pick them up and bring them home safely.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

How to Get Ready in a BIG hurry

For effing school.I don’t often oversleep, but when I do, it’s bad. This morning was the first time that I needed an alarm clock all summer and guess what moron slept right thru it and almost missed her train? My brother. Crap that doesn’t make any sense. OK OK it was me. During the school year I make sure to get up an hour before I have to leave, do nothing for 45 minutes and then dash around collecting myself in the last 15 minutes. Granted, I always end up arriving at school in a daze at the last possible second, but HEY! I MAKE IT.

Of course as the new school year is about to start I have made a whole lot of meaningless resolutions about not going on Facebook or checking the score of the game in the mornings, but I know full well that I’ll never keep them. It’s just fun to think that I might not have to run around like a madwoman tripping over dogs and getting attacked by cats because I look like one big glob of edible something or other darting about at the speed of light.

Here are my secrets to getting ready fast.

#1: Prepare your bag and outfit the day before

I’ve done this about… um… once, and it truly saves you a huge amount of time in the morning, if you’re willing to do it. Because I am a naturally lazy person, I am not. This refusal to comply with my mother’s constant reminders ends in the dismal fact that I always forget something important and that nothing fragile can ever survive in my bag. Although to be fair that might also have something to do with the fact that I have two heavy rocks at the bottom of it. Why? I picked them up on a beach in Cassis and my friend and I swore our friendship over them. Yes, we were two crazy teenagers who took the rocks into class and wrote our names on them. Deal with it. As for the outfit part of this suggestion, I generally spend way too long trying different things on (first world problems right?). The best day is when I have nothing left but a top, a pair of jeans and a hoodie in my closet, at which point my selection becomes so much easier. So basically, if I don’t do my laundry I save time. My mom would love this. [Sheldon Cooper sarcasm sign]

#2: Things don’t go well if you decide to start making pancakes 20 minutes before you have to leave.

Especially if you’re still in your pajamas, hair shooting in all directions and eyes barely open. This has happened to me, because who wouldn’t want some delicious, creamy, sweet pancakes piping hot off the griddle before school? No one. Unless of course you are a person who promotes healthy living and eats a breakfast of fruit and yogurt (oh look Mom, you’re in the post again!), in which case you are an exception –> quick interlude here, how DO you do it? It sounds so… so… I can’t even find the words. Now some of you might have been blessed with parents who put an assortment of breakfast foods out on the table the night before; I was not, my parents are the “figure your sh*t out by yourself” type. The best bet is to know beforehand what you are going to have for breakfast so that you won’t stand around making a mental selection in front of the fridge for 10 minutes.

#3: Drink

Alcoholic beverages are not recommended, but a strong cup of coffee or tea might just make you look and feel alive enough to drag yourself through the house collecting your stuff before lumbering off to school/work. I must warn though that this pointer is not for everyone. By this I mean that if I drink coffee in the morning, I turn into a hyperactive panda with wide eyes who can’t stand still, and although being a panda can be quite nice, it’s best not to be one just before a big math test.

#4: Makeup, in perspective, is not important

For all the girls out there going “Whaaat?!”, I feel just like you, but let’s lay it out. Would you rather have your teacher humiliate you in front of the whole class while you wish you were home, in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie; or go an hour looking naturally weird before you can make a run for the bathroom? Your choice. I choose spending first period looking like a Confused Teen all while wishing that I was at home, in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie. It’s the best of both worlds.

#5: Keep your wits about you

The worst thing you can do is panic like I do. As luck will often have it, the morning when you need to get ready the fatest also happens to be the morning when you look like a lethargic chimpanzee. Whatever you do though, make sure it doesn’t involve running around in circles effectively doing nothing. This rountinely causes extra stress which frizzles my hair; yes, when I’m really stressed out it appears as if a bird made it’s nest on my head, bad breath (to my dismay I found out that a mint does NOT replace toothpaste), hyperventilation, choking on the piece of toast you’re trying rather unsuccesfully to shove down your throat, dizziness and even death, if all of these things happen at the same time. Keep calm and eat a cookie! Well, you might not have time to eat a cookie, but stay composed anyway.

Upon further reflection of these five suggestions I find that me myself and I, author of this post, does not respect any of them. And since I am the very model of horrible organization, I can only conclude that if one were to follow these rules, that person might actually have a chance of getting out of life alive. Hold on now, that doesn’t make any sense. If one were to follow these rules, that person might actually have a chance of getting out of the house on time without looking like a puddle of melted jello. Better?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: This post was inspired by one over at Parisianettes, check it out here: http://parisianettes.blogspot.fr/2013/08/getting-ready-fast-in-morning-for-school_25.html

The Best of Friends

Image

They’re an odd couple, almost human-like, always a step away from killing each other all while harboring deep love and respect. To all the people going “ewww, is she talking about animal husbandry or some such pineapples?”, no, no I am not. I’m talking about a friendship so strong that nothing could break it.  Not even an butcher’s knife, pr even an ax. Well, maybe an ax could… Why am I talking about axes? I flummox myself sometimes. All the time.

I got my cat for my 6th birthday and named her Lucy because at the time I was obsessed with the Narnia books, so please don’t judge me. A tiny little kitten, she hid under the bathtub for 3 days. The innocent little girl that I was was heartbroken that she wouldn’t let me touch her (again, that sounds wrong), so I slipped her bowl of food to her hiding place each day, wishing she’d come out. Of course she eventually did and I was able to pet her, all while keeping my guard up for fear that she would gobble me up like a dinosaur. At the tender age of 6, I didn’t know much about cats, and I wouldn’t hold her until I was 8. Soon enough she discovered that 1) the outside world was really quite exciting and 2) she could eat A LOT of mice, throw them up in the house and still get fed. Heaven right? She’s my best animal friend, nuzzling up to me when she senses I’m feeling down, looking at me like a disapproving grandma when I do something wrong. She’s incredibly (and weirdly) social, so we basically had a dog already. Her peace lasted 3 years.

At that point, he arrived.

Cooperstown Hope, named thus because we hoped he would be a great baseball player/dog. Since it’s a fancy and stuck up name we call him Cooper for short. Or Bum. Whichever. Cooper was a tiny little golden ball of fluff who peed all over the house and got all of our attention: we ooh-ed and aah-ed over his cute puppy dog eyes and laughed at his clumsiness. While the cat had never liked her treats, he ate everything [yes, even whatever you’re imagining]. We loved him from the start and fawned over him like a bunch of girls drooling over a hot guy. Lucy hated him. This treatment was unfair, after all she’d has us all to herself for 3 whole years, and this “thing” came and tore that all away from her in a day. What a scam.

Cooper has always loved to play, so when he was little he would always try to get Lucy to tussle with him; but because she was the queen of the house and despised anything inferior to her (–> him) she rejected his advances scornfully. It’s only now, 6 years later, that she’s started to accept him as an equal. Unfortunately for her Cooper caught onto her scheme early on and now that she wants him, he pointedly ignores her. It’s like watching a reaaally long soap opera. Nonetheless they have their moments when they play together and look exceedingly happy. Other times, like the one in the picture, they just mutually enjoy each others company, lazing around, doing nothing in particular (hey, kind of like me! :))

Deep down they are the best of friends: if something is bothering Cooper, Lucy will go up to him and push his paw around with her nose reassuringly, and should any animal other than him come onto to his kitty, Cooper will make it very clear that she is his and only his.

I love them both with all my heart, and I hope that they always have the same hilariously weird relationship as they do today.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

Superstition Ain’t the Way

But… but… I can’t help it Stevie! I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let a black cat cross the road in front of me while I have full control of my mental capabilities; as in not stoned, drunk, or with any cute boy. Now that I think about it it really is animal cruelty to avoid black cats, they must be befuddled as to why people go out of their way to not come across them. I would hate to be a black cat’s shrink. And to all of those people saying “wow, she’s being really silly, their are no shrinks for cats”, I give you; total and utter effing madness.

I’m not crazy, I don’t have voodoo dolls that I keep in my closet or consult my horoscope with carrot-like precision, but I will handle a mirror with the utmost care, and when it comes to finger crossing, I am a pro. If I’m feeling particularly nimble I even cross my toes (TMI? TMI.). Based on experience I have concluded that I cannot find anything that I’ve lost without begging my cat and/or my dog for it. Yes, dear strangers of the Internet, that is sort of sad, but they get a kibble out of the deal and I get my stuff. Nobody’s complaining.

The other day I caught myself standing under a ladder, trying to see if it was solid or not. The result of this expedition was a look of horror frozen on my face as I lay on the ground, pinned under the ladder which was clearly not anchored well enough against the wall. Duh. I wasn’t hurt, mostly hungry, I suddenly realized that I reaaally wanted a snack (Does that ever happen to you? Wanting a snack in the wrong place? Oh dear that somehow sounds very strange. Am I getting off topic? Again?) but the small example of how my superstitions were affecting me made me question every person who told me that it was complete sugar. –> replacement word for ‘shit’. Oh I just said it, now there’s really no point in having replaced it is there?

My superstitious crap has gotten me into some awkward situations over the years. I have this one rule that says that when I walk under scaffolding, I can’t blink. The result of this is that a lot of people tend to stare at the weird girl who’s trying desperately not to close her eyes, in the process forgetting to breathe and ending up choking her way out into the open. But so far my life has been pretty darn good, so I’ll just keep being socially awkward and YOU just keep petting unicorns.

Although like any other teenager I have my wild and crazy moments where all judgment disappears and I turn into a hunk of raging hormones, I’m usually a goody two shoes. I’m the one who will remind people of the rules and be against doing anything rash or illogical (yes, watching Spock and Star Trek has ruined me). Just seeing the word “ain’t” in the title of this post is giving me the jitters. Don’t say ain’t or your mother will faint and your father will step in a pot of paint. Not very likely, and yet! I believe that if I do something morally wrong, the karmic retributions (FANCY WORDS HIGH FIVE) will be severe. Why? I can’t figure it out — I’m… confused. What else is new right?

Nonetheless, I won’t think twice about tackling you before you open that umbrella inside. I can’t toast with water because it’s against an old Hungarian wives tale. Since Friday the 13th is bad luck in some places and good luck in others, on that day I slink around in a disoriented fashion wishing it were the next day already. I want something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue at my wedding; a Doctor in a blue box would do just fine. If I find a penny, I will pick it up (although I have to point out that most people would, it is money after all). A wishbone wish is of the greatest importance to me. I always take an extra big breath of air before blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I have to wish for something in the 10 seconds after I’ve seen a shooting star. I knock on wood a lot. Holy cow on a cracker does that ever sound wrong.

And as for the picture of pure eye candy, you’re quite welcome 🙂

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I realize it may have made more sense for me to post this on Friday the 13th, but I don’t want to wait two weeks. So there.

The Shining Dusk

Isn’t ‘dusk’ an odd word? It makes me think of ‘duck’. First sentence and I’m already going off topic. Crud. The Sun, our lifeline, our light, our heat; in a sense, our God. For me, the best, no wait let me rephrase that, the most flagrant display of that singular power comes when it goes down and the world prepares to go to sleep.

Now I could use the dawn as an example, but I’m not going to because let’s face it, I don’t often see the Sun rise for the simple reason that I like to sleep. On the other hand, since I don’t go to bed at 6 pm (or 10, or 12, or whatever) I do see it set. During vacation I’m sluggish during the day and it’s only around 5 when I feel the bite and crispness return to the air [what a strange turn of phrase don’t you think? It makes me want to eat air. Unfortunately it doesn’t taste like much, I just tried some] that my body jumps into action and I have to accomplish everything I wanted to do during the day in a few short hours.

I then start running around like the mad procrastinator that I am, scaring the cat to death and provoking the dog into chasing after me. Oftentimes I get my family to come out and toss a football or a baseball around just before my time runs out. No don’t worry I’m not planning on dying or anything, but once we’re shrouded in gloom the bugs come out and the general mood drastically lowers. When the world around starts sparkling and the moon, as small as a sugar ball (great, now I’m hungry again) appears in the darkening sky, we know we only have a few more moments left.

So we play until the Sun disappears over the horizon, taking the light and the warmth with it. In a matter of minutes a flashlight is needed to get back to the house safely without trampling one of Daddy’s precious plants (for which we would be, quite literally, never forgiven). A chill permeates the air and Lucy, who usually hangs around while we play, being a weirdly social cat, blends into her surroundings and becomes nothing more than a speck of darkness. On second thought she may just have chameleon-like powers.

When I was little I learned that when there was a beautiful sunset with lots of mingling colors that cast a glorious light over our house; Santa’s elves were hard at work. Here in the countryside we are often awarded these brilliant light shows, so I considered myself to be a lucky little girl, and would always wish all of the elves well. HA! So naïve was I… now that I’m older and wiser, I can clearly see that the elves work insanely long hours and that Santa Claus is (most probably) breaking the law by making them work so late. Not so sweet and innocent now, eh Santa?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: please forgive me if this post doesn’t reflect my usual cheerful self today, you should know that I’m writing for the perspective of a heartbroken Mets fan who spent a good deal of her night alternating in between uncontrollable sobs and bursts of anger at the whole Matt Harvey situation. *says a whole lot of bad words*

Those Crazy American Commercials

There’s something that makes American TV commercials somewhat different from ads in other countries, or at least ads in France. Yeah, you know that I’m talking about those erectile dysfunction ads that come on every two seconds *involuntary shudder* I mean the purpose of one in three TV ads is, it seems, to council men on how to get boners.

Whenever I go on holiday to the US I always get excited about watching TV. Reason 1) I finally get to watch my shows on the big screen without having literally every male character sound like a 12 year old girl because it’s been dubbed, and reason 2) because I know that I’m garanteed a fit of hysterical giggles when it’s time for ads. And man, it’s always time for ads. In France you’re not allowed, by government law, to advertise any prescibed medication on TV, in magazines or in the papers, which in some way makes sense but in another makes French ads sooo much more boring. L’Oréal, because I don’t care. Get the idea? Pratically nothing ever happens, and when it does it’s most often an American ad that has been dubbed into French.

But in the United States of America, with it’s freedom of speech and wonderful liberty, there are no such rules, and the results are both glorious and disquieting:

“Are you having trouble living up to your ‘woman’s’ needs? Do you need a treatment that will last over 36 hours? [wait woah… 36 hours? Now I may not now much about the birds and bees junk but 36 hours seems quite a long time to be prepared for] Try our new SuperBonerCrap and go, go be free! Have sex in the middle of the street, in the park, in front of your grandkids! With SuperBonerCrap, it doesn’t matter when, where or how inappropriate the circumstances are, if you’re feeling it, take action. Warning, an erection lasting more than 5 hours may cause serious nerve damage. [God TMI people, kids watch Top Chef too you know] Side affects may include extreme exhaustion, nose bleeding, digestive issues, liver failure, prostate cancer, respiratory difficulties, brain damage and death. [Um excuse me, whaaat?] And as usual, stay safe! SuperBonerCrap, making you wish that you were single and surrounded by cats.”

So maybe I exaggerated a little bit, but not that much. And I know that erectile dysfunction is a real thing that affects a lot some people, but the number of ads compared to the percentage of the population that might need the product is disproportionate. Then again, it’s America, why am I suprised?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

Awards, Awards, Awards *head bursts with pride*

I have had the almost imponderable pleasure of receiving three awards from three wonderfully stupendously fantastic blogs and thus will proudly display them until The Mostly Confused Teenager becomes an old relic that only scientists use to study the discipline of awkwardness.

SO here we go! First we have the dearest Meesha who nominated me for the Liebster Award 🙂 The rules are as follow. Apparently.

1. You must link back the person who nominated you. (of course!)

2. You must answer the 10 Liebster questions given to you by the nominee before you. (oh man she asked some hard questions too)

3. You must pick 10 bloggers to be nominated for the award with under 200 followers (nope. Not 10. 5. HEHE I broke the rules *feels maniacal*)

4. You must come up with 10 questions for your nominees to answer. (oh dear.)

5. You must go to their blogs and notify your nominees. (that seems to be customary with every award eh?)

Here are her questions, and of course, my answers. Duh.

1) Why did you start blogging?

I can’t even think of how to answer the first one! Well I originally wanted to write for a sports website because my passion lies with baseball and football, but I couldn’t find anything. In my desperation I thought, why not run my own website? Maybe no one will read it but it’s worth a shot! And since the domain of sports is very specialized I decided to branch out into other things such as the extremely interesting (cue Sheldon Cooper’s sarcasm sign) life of a very average almost 16 year old living in France.

2) If you could live on one food item for the rest of your life, what would you choose?

It’s a toss up in between cookies (MY LIFE) and pizza. I have been a self proclaimed pizzavore since I was little and because pizza has more nutritional value and there are so many possible variations, I have to say… Pizza. I could have cookie pizza if I wanted! Although that sounds almost, um, gross.

3) A movie that you can watch over and over?

Definitely Remember the Titans. I have it on DVD and it is epic. It makes me cry, it makes me laugh, it makes me sing, it’s inspiring. Every time I watch it I get something more out of it, which it quite simply amazing, because I watch it a lot.

4) A blog post you loved writing and is your favorite?

It’s hard to pick a favorite, it’s sort of like choosing a favorite child if you’re a parent. That. Is. Not. Weird. In all honesty I’d have to say What to do when confronted with an awkward social situation, it was just really fun to write, and I felt that it was a subject really close to my heart. Obviously.

5) If you could say anything to someone and keep it anonymous, what would you say?

I’m not going to go all ‘evil Awkward mom’ on you here so I’ll just keep it simple: YOU ARE FRICKIN’ AWESOME. The being anonymous part just makes it seem cooler somehow.

6) If you could change your name to anything, what would you choose?

Now this is a good question! My parents almost named me Teagan. Upon research I have found that the name is now ‘owned’ by a porn star, but none the less.. I would change my name to Teagan if I had to change it at all.

7) What is the best advice you’ve ever received?

My Dad always told me to keep a sharp eye out for anything and everything. Not that I knew so at the time but this was awesome advice; without it I would have never picked up on all of the amazing little details that make up my life, and my brother hiding behind the door waiting to startle me.

8) Where would you love to go for your holiday next?

To a tropical island. A lot of my friends go on these amazeballs trips to places with turquoise waters, white sand beaches and swaying palm trees. I would like to be pampered. There, I said it, without (much) shame. I want to be the definition of lazy. Yeah yeah I know some will say that I’m that already, but I want to be it on a paradisaical beach with a hot guy giving me a massage. Is that too much to ask?

9)  If you could go back in time and give advice to yourself, what would you say?

Take a chance. I’ve come close to getting kissed many a couple times but I’ve always pulled away. It’s like as soon as I have a chance for happiness, I close up like a clam. I don’t know why, I suppose I thought I’d get hurt. Well, younger CT, pull your multicolored socks up and let yourself have that floating sensation that you get when you kiss someone you like.

10) List 3 things you would like to do before you die!

I would definitely like to volunteer in a faraway country, and give back to the community. I was born lucky, others were not. I want need to help. Number 2, I think I should go on the craziest rides at the amusement park before I go to the land of cookies. I don’t exactly have a spirit that yearns for that thrill so I often chicken out; but I want to conquer that fear. Lastly, I want to sing in front of a bunch of people. I want people to hear my voice and think “wow, she’s good!” Although the probability of that dream happening is not very high, since I may sound like a croaking cockroach.

TADAAA I did it! OK now for my questions:

1) What is your favorite food?

2) What was/is your dream job?

3) Why did you start blogging? (classic question for a blogger)

4) If you could change your name to anything, what would it be? (I’m stealing your question Meesha, I like it too much)

5) Do you go/did you go/are you going to go to college? Why?

6) What’s your favorite season?

7) Do you follow sports? If so, which ones? (be careful answering this one guys ;))

8) How many hours a day do you spend on the computer?

9) What’s your favorite TV show? That is, if you watch TV.

10) I’m hungry. Oh crap that’s not a question. Um… What’s your favorite book?

Oki doki now for the nominees: http://thejourneyofmythoughts.wordpress.com/

http://wintersmischief.wordpress.com/

http://loveriennelife.wordpress.com/

http://mindofgeorge.wordpress.com/

http://19thmainstreet.wordpress.com/

 

Little Miss Nerdy Bookworm Nominated me for the Super Sweet Award (yay!) For which I thank her very much, quite frankly I  knew that I would like her blog as soon as a saw the way she signed off on her about page. Yes, go look!

Once again, rules: Thank the blogger who nominated you. (merci très chère! (Yes, I just went all French on you, sorry)).

Answer 5 Super Sweet questions (as per usual).

Include the Super Sweet Blogging Award in your blog post. (yeah yeah I do that every time).

Nominate a baker’s dozen (13) other deserving bloggers. (I will once again be evil and only nominate 5)

Notify your Super Sweet nominees on their blog. (That’s always the part that I dislike the most)

QUESTIONS!

1. Cookies or cake? If you’ve been following my blog at all, you know the answer. Cookies for ever baby!

2. Chocolate or vanilla? Ooh that’s a tough one… chocolate chip cookies vs vanilla ice cream. On second thought, the answer is perfectly obvious: chocolate.

3. Favorite sweet treat?  Have you not been paying attention? Um… answer to question number 1 of course.

4. When do you most crave sweet things? Any and every part of the day.

5. Sweet nickname? If we’re talking sweet sugariness then I have to say “Fluffernutter”. I love that nickname.

Nominees: http://lollycreations.wordpress.com/

http://attemptingreality.wordpress.com/

http://justjodie998.wordpress.com/

http://girlwiththesilverlocket.wordpress.com/

http://alittlebitofmeblog.wordpress.com/

Hannah and Katie Nominated me for the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award, which while I’m not sure what is, I graciously accept. Truth is, any award is cool :p And go check out Hannah and Katie’s blog, it’s very much very awesome.

Don’t a lot of rules just make you want to break them? Well, here we go, the rules to my last award:

1) The nominee of The Wonderful Team Member Readership Award shall display the logo on his/her blog. (Yeah yeah yeah I’m all on it)

2)  The nominee shall nominate 14 readers they appreciate over a period of 7 days, all at once or little by little; linking to their blogs; and telling them about it at their blogs. (again, nada going to happen. 5 will suffice largely. Plus it makes those 5 all the more special right?)

3) The nominee shall name his/her Wonderful Team Member Readership Award nominees on a post during 7 days. (I’m disregarding this rule because I don’t know what the heck it means. HA, take that rulemakers!)

So although this award, as my lovely nominators pointed out, has no apparent reason of being, the links hereonafter (is that even a word) will be publicity for the blogs involved.

Nominations please (being all fancy here see?); http://maggiesblog0019.wordpress.com/

http://thisblogisapieceofshit.wordpress.com/

http://sunsandstarsanddreams.wordpress.com/

http://crazyblabberer.wordpress.com/

http://myatheistblog.wordpress.com/

I DID IT!! And in only… 1500 words. Holy macaroni this was a long post, sorry ’bout that. I’ll notify everyone tomorrow (cue song from Annie)!

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teeanger.