So, Whyville, as I've said many times before in the opening paragraphs of my wise and smart articles,
It's still winter in Ontario.
Winter around here doesn't end like in normal places, partially because Ontario is not normal, I mean there are people named Joa and Roch living here, so it can't really be normal. And also once I saw a lady reading a magazine while driving which is also not normal behaviors. And I would mention the time that I saw a cat jump off a roof but that may be a little too sketchy for a website aimed for 3-80 year olds or whatever Whyville is aimed for, cause I see a lot of sketchy things very often in this lil' sketchy province I call home.
Anyways . . . (this is officially a formal apology to that one person that used a bunch of big words I didn't understand in the BBS last week, cause again I'm not 'forming bridges to the underworld of the synopsis' or something, whatever it was you said, sorry) along with winter in Ontari-ari-o, come many uncalled for consequences, such as:
- Minor and major injuries due to falling down ice demons normal people call hills.
- Being required to wear a marshmallow coat that's green plaid *ahem*.
- Having to look at many pairs of Ugg and Emu boots.
- Hair turning beastly due to beastly weather conditions.
- Frost bite in places you'd rather not discuss online on Whyville.
- Wet pants (from the snow . . .)!
- Chapped lips.
Now, chapped lips are by far the worst part of winter. I mean, who wants their lips, that are supposed to be luscious, soft, and not painful, to be rough, painful, and demented? Nobody.
This is a major issue.
Wanna know why?
Because I don't appreciate having facial features that feel like a cat's butt placed near the hole where all my food goes. Are cat's butts prickly and rough? I don't know. But, if I ever had a cat, (not that I'm a cat molester or anything I mean, come on I'm really an innocent person! Don't listen to what Roch tells you . . . it was one time) it's butt would probably be prickly just because I'm that kind of person, who gels their cat's butt hairs to make it the same texture as their very chapped lips. I'm a VENGEFUL person. I don't deserve dry lips. And that cat looked better with it's butt gelled anyways . . . it should THANK ME.
Back on track, (was that a bridge to Terebithia since I didn't say anyways?) there's this lil' thing called . . .
LIP CHAP!
And it's the angel. It's the little gnome that washes the cat's butt free of gel, even though lil' kitty looked better gelled anyways. Now, every chance I get, I smeared on this great wonder of life upon my distraught lips,
No more spikey bum!
So I was sitting in my desk, the day our heater broke down, and it just happened to be -30 degrees. So I'm shivering, and staring across the room at a certain guy who I kinda like a lil' bit and I'm not mentioning names . . . but let's just say HE doesn't have cat butt lips probably.
SO anyways, a surge of dryness and pain goes through my mouth, sending the message to the tiny people in my brain. They told me to reach in for that tiny stick that would cure all my problems.
My fingers curled around the tiny tube and I seized it and smeared it all over my mouth. Ahhh, relief.
Oh Em, Geee, haha!" this kid named Pelvis or something, not too sure, starts gigglesnorting.
"It's just chapstick, you idiot," I roll my eyes at the immaturity of this creature named after a bone that sounds dirty but really isn't. Soon, Chaaad wheels around in his chair, although his name is really insignificant and you know, he wasn't looking wonderful on this particular Valentine's Day or anything, but still. He turned in his chair, and looked and me with those gorg -- with those eyes, and HE starts gigglesnorting. What is with him and gigglesnorting!
"WHAT?!" I demand, wiping the chapstick from my cats butt. I mean, lips. LIPS. Suddenly, I realize that there's something fishy going on.
Nothing gets past this one, nuh uh.
"No freaking way," I yell, as Chaaad and Pelvis start laughing harder. It was at this point in my life I had realized what was really going on behind this Chapstick fiasco.
Now, I've heard of many pranks before. Bucket of water on the door, plastic wrap on the toilet seat, even plastic band around the kitchen sink squirty gun thing that is 'not for showering with young lady, put your pants on, please,' (long story). But NEVER, have I met anybody so prankily inclined, that they would EVER in a million years, pull off . . .
Putting glue in my chapstick.
I leapt up from my seat, knocking my chair over. My feet frantically surge towards the water fountain, screaming "Frick the stupid stick," and I threw the tube at Chaaad and hit him in the face. He deserved it, with his lame attempt at flirting. Boys disgust me with their immatureness and twisted idea of a valentines day gift.
On this same day, I got crouched on. Repeatedly. And I would use another word but then I'm gonna get called a pervert and such, and the Times probably wouldn't submit this on account of I've crossed the line already by saying "bum".
So now, this kind of came in handy on account of now I can glue my stuff with chapstick . . . but also I can still taste glue which is a little disturbing.
I highly recommend checking that your chapstick isn't a bag full of SKETCHUINESS (especially if present in Ontario) before putting it on, or else you could end up with many classmates laughing at you and a lecture about which language is appropriate in the classroom.
That's all.
