tales from suburbia

tales from suburbia

I am currently sitting in my 7 year old cousins  mini plush Bratz chair as she does my toe nails for the third time in one week. We are watching a repeat of Hannah Montana, we watched the same episode last time she was doing my nails. It's funny she is the new childhood deity, personally she looks like a 30 year old house wife, but that's just my critical side coming out to shine. 

 apparently this dude here likes her just as much as my 7 year old cousin, but i guess a bit more because she doesn't go to this extreme. Every scene in this show breaks out into a badly orchestrated song that relates to the issues of her life, like which boy to choose. As a 15 year old I often had to decide such things. No wait, I was lanky and awkward. Isn't it funny that the word awkward is itself awkward, i feel that it properly represents its definition, just a side-note.  I can only imagine five 30 something old men sitting around a board room writing the script for this show, asking "is it still hip to use the word hip?". Truth be told I would consider writing for this show. How can you call me a sell-out when I had nothing to sell?

OK, so check it before you reck it. I have roughly four days before I head to the land of tropicana tanning oil and fat cruise ship enthusiasts. Perhaps I will maintain an air of  mystery and make up a new story. probably not because well that takes more effort than necessary. 

I can't help but imagine all the fun things that await me there, like an endless summer and palm trees. 

this is the beach right beside the airport. There is a warning sign that says danger, airplanes may cause injuries.  I can't wait to hit up the beaches, the last time I was in a tropical area was well before Somalia was a destroyed nation, that was nearly 18 years ago. So my African skin longs for heat, and a warm tropical location.

I am  going to raid my aunts fridge that is plentiful with delicious things

that as a student I was unable to eat.