Dear doo-wop,

Thanks for making my Ke$ha arrangement hilarious.
Am I the only one who can now only think "Ke-dollar sign-ha" when I see Ke$ha now? Damn Glee.
I ducking love old music. More than this sheep we have now.
Ducking pop sheep. And it all vacuums.
Oh, and if you are wondering about the animals and vacuum, those are my new swear replacements.
Because swearing is baddd.
Ducking bad..
Love,
Felicity

Dear teachers,

Do you realize how obnoxious your playing favorites is?
Seriously.
It's like, you yell at the back corner of the class for talking before you come in and before the bell, but then it's like the kids in the front can talk to you and move you to a different subject in the middle of class.
You make me rage. Like, GRRR-ANGER-RAGE.
Also, I would appreciate it if you would stay in the room to TEACH us because you are the TEACHER instead of leaving the room and texting all the time. You act like a teenager more than we do.
And on said times that you're out of the room, of course we're going to talk. So don't get angry.
We wouldn't talk if you just stayed in the room.
Honestly,
Felicity

Dear hair,

Stop falling out.
Stop being messy.
Stop tangling.
Stop being in my face.
Please?
Love,
Felicity

Dear drunk neighbor,

You're a jerk. You're a drunk. You're a drunk jerk.
Do you think that I really want to hear about how my dead mom's birthday was the same as yours?
If you're really that stupid, I DON'T.
And no, I don't want you to yell "Run Forrest Run!" every time I run past your porch.
You know why I do that? Because you CREEP ME OUT.
I don't like walking past your porch when you're there because you're WICKED CREEPY.
You're the kind of person that should be brought to elementary schools to show kids why you NEVER EVER DRINK.
Because you end up a drunk. A bitter, old drunk.
A wicked creepy, jerk-ish, bitter old drunk.
Male donkey.
Love,
Signed,
Felicity

Dear blog-readers,

(all two of you)
I've decided to write the posts from now on, in letter form.
Change is the pickling juice of life, you guys.
Or is it spice? I don't really care.
Whoo-frapping-hoo.
Love,
Felicity

You make me rage.

My blood is boiling. It is so incredibly hot that it threatens to burn through my veins and melt my skin so that all would be left is the bloody, 4th-degree burnt remains of a terrifically angry girl. And then my whole house would smell like burnt flesh forever. And I would assume that that is not a fantastically good smell.
Anyways, I have a hypocrite in the midst of my social circle.
And.
She.
Is.
Killing.
Me.
She makes plans, this frustrating interpretation of a girl. And then she freely cancels them, blowing everyone off because she's made bigger or better plans with a more grand person. She feels no obligation to do what she said. Which is angering in its own right.
But, oh no, it gets worse.
Because if this girl has plans canceled on her, it is a disaster. World War III just broke out if you dare do something other than what was planned. She gets soooo angry.
And, somehow, this person doesn't manage to see how much of a hypocrite she is. Which is the most angering thing of all.

I have a toy melodeon.

I watched Glee today. I love Glee more than most people. Not even joking there.
And now, I am watching House online. Because I love House, too. Again, more than most people.
I am so tired. I am barely managing to blog this evening. I'm probably going to fall asleep after I write this.
I have a toy melodeon. It's very fun to play. I'm such a weirdo.
Happy Mardi Gras! Yeah! Whoo! Okay, that's enough faked excitement. I wish I lived in New Orleans.
I am too tired for this. Peace in the middle east.

Well, on the bright side, I could have malaria! Or be on fire! Or have malaria and be on fire AT THE SAME TIME!"

I am a klutz. Not only a klutz, but a blissfully unaware, ditzy klutz.
My wrist is sprained. Again. Since this time last year, I think I have sprained my wrist six times or so. It's not fair. I sprained my wrist PLAYING FETCH WITH MY DOG once. Fetch! Seriously, wrist? You can't even handle that?
I am so accident-prone. It's ridiculous. Let me list my last few injuries:

• Sprained wrist from who-knows-what
• Cut on my finger from hitting it on the wooden frame of my window
• Rash from one of those jelly glow-in-the-dark hair ties
• Rash from shampoo
• Giant head scabs from combing too hard
• 7-week-old puppy scratch that bled FOREVER
• Blister on heel from not wearing socks with my rain boots (okay, that was preventable, if I had known it would happen!)
• Cut on thigh from toilet seat (I kid you not)
• Hurt finger from getting it slammed in a door
• Bruises on my thigh and arm on the right side, caused by slipping on ice

Those are my injuries in the last 3-ish weeks. I am far too accident and injury-prone for life. Please fix me. The worst part is half the time I don't even realize how badly I hurt myself until I try to do something and I'm like, "OW SHIT WHAT DID I DOOOOO". And it hurttttssss.
Anyways, aside from my many, many ailments, I found my vanilla chapstick and it makes me happy. Very, very happy. Sadly, I cannot eat it, despite how good it smells. And it really does smell good.

I'M SO FUCKING ADORABLE IT'S NOT EVEN FAIR

I am adorable. I am not trying to be conceited when I say that, but it is so true. It's more of a curse than anything, though. I am just so cute and I get at least 3 comments calling me cute a day. It's totally unfair. Because I am supposed to be pretty by now but I'm still stuck at adorable(and not even a mature adorable, a 5-year-old adorable). And I'm almost positive I will be stuck there forever.
It's my face, and my personality. I am freckled and I have a button nose, and I don't have a particularly fat face, but my cheeks are very round. My eyes are spaced a little farther apart than normal, and I have a fringe. I am fucking adorable. My personality is like that of a 9-year-old, to go with my 5-year-old face. I am upbeat, shallow, easily distracted, absent-minded, funny... And apparently, charming. So, I guess I have an adorable personality. And I play the ukulele. Which is like a baby guitar. And according to some, that's adorable too.
The problem with being adorable is that I am never taken seriously. People are just too caught up on my adorable-ness. And they always think I'm joking when I'm not. It's so angering. And one day I'll be serious and people won't take me serious and all of their loved ones will end up killed by a super hero's evil twin. Watch, it'lll happen.
ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, I get out of everything by either joking or being charming or adorable or whatever. People very rarely get angry at me.
TL;DR: I am adorable, and I sort of hate it, but it has its benefits, too.