Hello, mischievous children.
It took me seven tries to type 'mischievous'. On an unrelated note, I am pretty sure I am dyslexic, after all Google diagnosed it for me and the internet is never wrong (Side note: if you accidentally say "tex in a saxi" instead of "sex in a taxi" in a conversation to your flatmates and then try to pass it off as mouth dyslexia they will most certainly not believe you, and instead ask you to go stand in a corner).
But we digress. As we have all established by now, my life is one full of never ending pain and suffering and so on, and recent incidents have further confirmed that belief.
Hold on, my dog is barking in his sleep. He's probably having a nightmare, so I have to wake him up. I wish someone would wake me up when I have nightmares. Why, just last night my frendos, I dreamt that I was in a swimming pool with Lynette from Desperate Housewives. It was rather frightening. You will soon see this story is actually related to the one I am about to tell you. Keep up, keep up. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
As everyone who is interested in my life and is keeping up with the kapoorni (i.e. no one) knows, I am studying in Glasgow and am currently home for the summer. I was telling my mom this story (not the one about me studying in Glasgow, she pays for that, she knows that, the story I am about to tell you, cheeky minxes!!) and my mom was all like
"Hey, that's funny, I think you should blog about this, also why are you a fool LMAO stop embarrassing the fam." (That is more or less of the gist of what she said)
And then I thought
"hmm, okay".
Oh wait, I don't have to be irrelevant here, I don't need to extend the word count, it's not like it's my Psych1B Essay OHHHHHH SHOTZ FIRED DAYUM SON!!!
Moving on, back to the swimming nightmare I had yesterday. I am pretty sure I know why I had that nightmare. It's because of the hellish experience I had (that one time) when I went swimming in Glasgow. I know what all of you are thinking. "But aren't you a good swimmer? Didn't you bag second place among like four people in a race like six years ago?" I can no longer deny the rumours, yes that is true. And thus, like the naïve yet somewhat lovable fool that I am known widely for being, I went swimming in Glasgow. Now, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm brown (This joke is much funnier with my white friends. Wait, can I say white friends? Can I call myself brown? What are the rules?). That means nothing really, but sometimes I'm...let's say conspicuous.
Q1. HEY! Do you know what's also somewhatishkinda conspicuous?
A1. The colour (bright) purple.
Q2. WHAT'S SUPER CONSPICUOUS OMG GUESS????
A2. A brown person in a bright purple costume!!!
There I was, looking satisfied in my bright purple costume, until I saw that every other girl there was
a. in a bikini
b. a goddess
Another thing that made me panic was that swimming caps weren't compulsory. Back home, all girls are expected to wear swimming caps* (*this compulsion does not extend to men because men and women are not equal, I'm sitting in the kitchen typing this because that is where women belong haha the 21st century sure is great) which is awesome because I happen to look like a rather large potato in a swimming cap, but it's okay because so does everyone else (to quote my roommate: #communalsuffering). In Glasgow, I was clutching onto my black super shiny hat, but no one else was wearing one, so I decided to pull my long, thick hair into a sexy bun on the top of my head and casually seduce some unsuspecting men.
Not.
I scraped my ear-length hair into a tiny onion-like ball on my head, which made me look like an oompa loompa, according to my kind friends.
So here I was, in my purple costume, looking like a sad oompa loompa, but hey - that's not too bad right? WRONG.
Back in sixth grade, life decided that wearing braces wasn't enough for me, I also needed thick glasses. The braces came off, but the glasses stayed. Thankfully my kind mother had mercy on me and agreed to have contact lenses made for me, especially because I played badminton and swam, and so lenses were much easier to handle. The thing about wearing lenses and swimming is, you can't open your eyes under water because the thing about chlorine is, well, to make a long story short it's not the best thing to expose lenses to. So whenever I swam, I had to wear swimming goggles as well, to protect my ironically poorly sighted eyes. Now the thing about my head is that, well, it's not very big. Which means I have to tighten my swimming goggles as much as I possibly can, which means that the straps stick up at the ends, which in turn means I look like I have horns growing out of my ears. Which, in my humblest of opinions, is not a great look. To sum up, this is what I looked like in a pool fool of gorgeous, beautifully chiseled, and non-purple-clothing wearing people:
It is no mystery why I never returned to that wretched place.
It took me seven tries to type 'mischievous'. On an unrelated note, I am pretty sure I am dyslexic, after all Google diagnosed it for me and the internet is never wrong (Side note: if you accidentally say "tex in a saxi" instead of "sex in a taxi" in a conversation to your flatmates and then try to pass it off as mouth dyslexia they will most certainly not believe you, and instead ask you to go stand in a corner).
But we digress. As we have all established by now, my life is one full of never ending pain and suffering and so on, and recent incidents have further confirmed that belief.
Hold on, my dog is barking in his sleep. He's probably having a nightmare, so I have to wake him up. I wish someone would wake me up when I have nightmares. Why, just last night my frendos, I dreamt that I was in a swimming pool with Lynette from Desperate Housewives. It was rather frightening. You will soon see this story is actually related to the one I am about to tell you. Keep up, keep up. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
As everyone who is interested in my life and is keeping up with the kapoorni (i.e. no one) knows, I am studying in Glasgow and am currently home for the summer. I was telling my mom this story (not the one about me studying in Glasgow, she pays for that, she knows that, the story I am about to tell you, cheeky minxes!!) and my mom was all like
"Hey, that's funny, I think you should blog about this, also why are you a fool LMAO stop embarrassing the fam." (That is more or less of the gist of what she said)
And then I thought
"hmm, okay".
Oh wait, I don't have to be irrelevant here, I don't need to extend the word count, it's not like it's my Psych1B Essay OHHHHHH SHOTZ FIRED DAYUM SON!!!
Moving on, back to the swimming nightmare I had yesterday. I am pretty sure I know why I had that nightmare. It's because of the hellish experience I had (that one time) when I went swimming in Glasgow. I know what all of you are thinking. "But aren't you a good swimmer? Didn't you bag second place among like four people in a race like six years ago?" I can no longer deny the rumours, yes that is true. And thus, like the naïve yet somewhat lovable fool that I am known widely for being, I went swimming in Glasgow. Now, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm brown (This joke is much funnier with my white friends. Wait, can I say white friends? Can I call myself brown? What are the rules?). That means nothing really, but sometimes I'm...let's say conspicuous.
Q1. HEY! Do you know what's also somewhatishkinda conspicuous?
A1. The colour (bright) purple.
Q2. WHAT'S SUPER CONSPICUOUS OMG GUESS????
A2. A brown person in a bright purple costume!!!
There I was, looking satisfied in my bright purple costume, until I saw that every other girl there was
a. in a bikini
b. a goddess
Another thing that made me panic was that swimming caps weren't compulsory. Back home, all girls are expected to wear swimming caps* (*this compulsion does not extend to men because men and women are not equal, I'm sitting in the kitchen typing this because that is where women belong haha the 21st century sure is great) which is awesome because I happen to look like a rather large potato in a swimming cap, but it's okay because so does everyone else (to quote my roommate: #communalsuffering). In Glasgow, I was clutching onto my black super shiny hat, but no one else was wearing one, so I decided to pull my long, thick hair into a sexy bun on the top of my head and casually seduce some unsuspecting men.
Not.
I scraped my ear-length hair into a tiny onion-like ball on my head, which made me look like an oompa loompa, according to my kind friends.
So here I was, in my purple costume, looking like a sad oompa loompa, but hey - that's not too bad right? WRONG.
Back in sixth grade, life decided that wearing braces wasn't enough for me, I also needed thick glasses. The braces came off, but the glasses stayed. Thankfully my kind mother had mercy on me and agreed to have contact lenses made for me, especially because I played badminton and swam, and so lenses were much easier to handle. The thing about wearing lenses and swimming is, you can't open your eyes under water because the thing about chlorine is, well, to make a long story short it's not the best thing to expose lenses to. So whenever I swam, I had to wear swimming goggles as well, to protect my ironically poorly sighted eyes. Now the thing about my head is that, well, it's not very big. Which means I have to tighten my swimming goggles as much as I possibly can, which means that the straps stick up at the ends, which in turn means I look like I have horns growing out of my ears. Which, in my humblest of opinions, is not a great look. To sum up, this is what I looked like in a pool fool of gorgeous, beautifully chiseled, and non-purple-clothing wearing people:
