exam crunch is not a cereal

I have an exam in 11 hours and I am not prepared, but here I am writing a blog post about how unprepared I am for the exam I have in 11 hours when, instead, I could be preparing for the exam I have in 11 hours. But the kids say YOLO these days, and I'm afraid I gotta listen to what's new and hip with the kids.

Honestly, I'm pretty much in Lala Land right now. Seven long, long, LOOOOOONG days from now, I'm leaving this godforsaken continent and jet-setting to Glasgow with my best friends for three weeks. How can you expect me to be staring a lecture slides and shit when all that's on my mind is snorting coke off a bagpipe  or sticking opium suppositories in my butthole a la Mark Renton or whatever it is Scottish people do.

I was gonna keep on typing, but honestly, I'm an idiot and I know I should study. So, like, I'm gonna.

Ok.

I'm gonna.

Go.

Right now.

Bye.

THE FRESH START

Hi, I'm Gia.

This is my brand spankin' new web log.

The layout's ugly but I'll work on that in a bit.

It's called "word vom" because, like, I'm spilling my guts here. Or something. Lol I dunno it sounded cute and edgy so I chose "word vom". I was thinking about "rewordjitated" but I didn't know if people would get it because it's pretty clever. I'm lying. I'm just afraid that no one will think it's clever. Not that I need validation from you assholes.

My return to the blog-o-sphere can be attributed to two reasons:

- It is 9 in the morning and I've not yet slept a wink

- I watched a BBC TV serial on The Diary of Anne Frank on Netflix with Shelby and Marijke tonight

I shit you guys not: every time I watch or read anything about Anne Frank, I have the urge to start documenting my entire life through the medium of the written word. I think, since the age of 8, I've started, like, fucking eight separate diaries after reading Anne Frank. But I'm too goddamn lazy to be bothered with the whole pen + paper equation. Who writes down actual words anymore? (The answer is ONLY SQUARES DO.) So I've decided I'm going to give the whole blogging thing another shot.

I was a pretty avid blogger with a considerable readership, but I'm flaky and cannot commit to anything for long periods of time. Remember those eight separate diaries I was talking about not but four sentences ago? I didn't fill ANY of them even halfway. Because I'm a piece of shit. I don't want anyone to study my life generations from now or anything; I kind of just want to record my daily goings-on and prove to myself that I can stick to it. But, you know, if I become famous or something, I ain't even gonna be mad. My only task is making my life seem at least slightly more spectacular than the average, adolescent-angst-ridden existential crisis that it happens to be. I'm gonna try to be as earnest as possible on here, so if it gets a bit too hot, please step out of the kitchen. *water touching hot stove hissing noise right here*

I suppose I should describe myself a bit for the people who don't know me. HAHA jokes! I really just want to talk about myself a likkle:

I was born in the bitter cold of December in 1992. That's another joke. I was born in the Philippines where it is rarely cold. I moved to Canada on my birthday when I was but a babe. I turned five on the airplane. The airline gave me cake. In return, I pissed my pants in the airplane seat. Anyhow, I've lived in Buttfuck Suburbia since then, and am constantly on the verge of hanging myself from the swing set of one of hundreds of strategically-placed children's parks in the city where I live. I'm currently a student at a local university where I go about my day doing absolutely nothing and talking to absolutely no one. I'm currently employed as a salesperson ("STYLIST") at a retail store in a local mall where my job is to shill overpriced (but lovely) clothing on every hapless person who wanders through the entrance.

In general, I'm a hot mess who doesn't know what she's doing ever. (Have I told you guys I'm probably going to do a lot of complaining? Because I am. Again, if this doesn't appeal to you, take two steps left and you'll have exited the kitchen where the heat is gonna get intense, people. 98 Degrees-circa-1997-white-turtleneck-intense type heat.) (That was a big parentheses; is that kosher in the writing world? W8 this is my blog who even curr ab prose?)

I don't really complain that much in real life. I feel like I've earned the right to be whiny ungrateful bitch on my own time. 

Anyhow, enough about me! PSYCH! This is a blog about my life. It's obvz gonna be all about me, guys.

I'm also gonna try to post other things besides me ranting about whatever, though. Like... Music. And clothes. And pictures and stories and stuff. Fluffy stuff. Because you can't be serious all the time or else you end up looking like a Debbie Downer. I am not a Downer, and I am not a Debbie, so gotta keep it lighthearted. I don't even know what I'm talking about. Honestly, it's like 10 AM now so I've been writing this for an hour and my brain is starting to hurt and staring my computer screen is making my eyeballs quiver. I think I'm done.I dunno what else to write for now. I'm going to send this blog to my friends and inform them of my intention to post regularly so that I get embarrassed if I don't write in it again LMAO #foolprooftactics.

It feels pretty good to be typing this up right now.

Hopefully the euphoria sticks.