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Don’t be that outrageous laugher. AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Do you want a good hardy laugh? Watch this video NOW. I can’t get over the goose.. omg.. -____- Can’t breathe..
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The Purple Dinosaur
Earlier on today, I was trying to search for a specific kind of song with lyrics that suited the theme I wanted on yahoo answers. Probably not the best place to go to, but you gotta admit, it can be useful sometimes! On one of the suggestions, someone wrote: “I Love You,” by the Purple Dinosaur. They even added, “Aww, Come’on! It’ll make them laugh!” I should’ve gotten it then, that was a pretty big hint.. Instead, I thought, the Purple Dinosaur?! What a cute band name! Never heard of them before. I was quite oblivious.. and continued to type onto the search bar on Youtube.. “I…Love…You.. by.. The.. Purple.. Dino…saur.” (I have a habit of mouthing the words I type onto a screen..) I don’t know why.. but the facts finally hit me right when I pressed enter before the blatant video suggestions could even pop up. Gosh dangit! They were talking about the “I love you” song from Barney…… How could I have ever mistaken “the Purple Dinosaur” to be a band?! -Sigh- Just another sad fail of mine.
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Lol. It’s kind of sad how true this is. (Source: durianseeds)
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:) I guess I won’t feel too bad about my weird sense of humor. I don’t even know why I laugh sometimes.
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A little humor to comfort my sadness.
I’ve been kind of bedridden with a sickness unknown to me(probably just a cold.. but a very peculiar one) for the past two days ever since I went through 3 hours of non-stop karaoke with about 15 people.. Dizziness, headaches, extreme loss of appetite, and i’m just all over uncomfortable. I don’t have a runny nose or sore throat and i’m not even coughing, but its the worse feeling ever.. and I was throwing up on the first night. If it’s anything I absolutely hate, it’s probably having to vomit. Not entirely the process of vomiting itself, but more so the fact that I have to bend(HOVER MY HEAD) over something that people everyday put their behinds on.. you know what I mean? The thought of it normally would make me want to gag. I may not be a germ-a-phobe, but i’m strictly sanitary if that makes any sense. Sorry to disturb your peace with my disgusting thoughts. I would completely understand if whoever is reading this would stop reading now. Anyways. After taking some meds last night, I felt thoroughly a lot better this morning and thought I wouldn’t need to take anymore medicine.. but that later proved to be false because the symptoms came back and then there I was, back at the toilet. As I walked out of the bathroom, I felt strangely back to normal.. Anyhow, my mom was watching television on the couch in the living room and called out as she caught sight of me: “Are you feeling better?” Ah, that’s right. The night before, I was knocking on her bedroom door at 2 am in the morning asking her to cure me. (Well, technically I complained to her about my symptoms and asked her to assign me the proper meds. I should be old enough to know by myself by now.. but well, Moms’ always know best!) In response to her question, I sat down next to her on the couch and joined her under the blankets she was covering herself with. I leaned against her arm and told her everything that had happened to me regarding my sickness, like a therapist’s patient.. She nodded and reconfirmed with me that I was just having a cold’s fever.. and for a while we sat in silence under the darkness of the room which was dimly lit with the soft Christmas colors shining from our small Christmas tree in the corner. In the silence I carelessly stared at the television with her. The movie she was watching was kinda old and had something to do with cowboys I vaguely remember.. “What does “fuck” mean?” She asks me in Vietnamese; that is, everything except for the vulgar word of course. I blinked and snapped out of my daze. Did I hear that correctly? No.. I definitely heard that correctly.. but nonetheless, I questioned her anyways. “Wait.. what?” I asked her back in our native language. “What does “fuck” mean?” ..That cowboy must have said it while I wasn’t paying attention. I started giggling slightly. “Well.. it’s kind of like..” Hold on.. how do I even explain it to her properly? “It’s.. well.. it’s..” I would start.. then get stuck in my thoughts and stop again.. I wanted to just tell her that it was a bad word.. but I didn’t even know how to say that in Viet no thanks to my horrible language barrier. Oh what more was there to think! “It’s just Du Ma in English.” I stated bluntly. Sigh, what more of a concise way could I have said it? (Du Ma = Fuck in Vietnamese in case that wasn’t obvious) She looked at me for a bit, smiled and turned her gaze back to the television without a word. She must’ve realized how funny her question sounded to me. Goodness, and I seriously thought that my mom knew what “fuck” meant for the past 5 years! I could’ve cussed around her a bit and she would’ve never known. Not that I ever did anyway.. ”..Okay.. I’m gonna go drink my medicine and go to bed now.. Night mom!” Sigh, my mom is truly the best :)
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The scrape on my boot.
The four of us stood around in a random parking lot of a fast food restaurant, shrouding around the item laying in my hands; a person to the front, back, left, and right, nearly touching shoulders. Eyes shifted around as cars flew us by and legs made little to no movement at sounds and sights of people. In a formation, we built a protection shield that we felt would blend us in with everyday society, yet only making us ever the more obvious. We didn’t want anybody to see what we were doing, what we had discovered you know. It was a secret after all. The freezing winds(seriously.. it was SO cold..) blew through the huge cracks in our human shield that made us all shiver in our spots. The cold sucked the warmth from my hands and made them stiffen as I thought I wouldn’t be able to write.. but I was too excited and wrote anyway.. “12/16/11…” I scribbled the date and our groupie’s name quickly onto the small sheet of paper and struggled as I rolled it back up and tried to stuff it back into its plastic zip lock bag. “Why the hell is this piece of paper so friggin’ fat..!” I muttered under my breath as I unrolled and re-rolled to make it fit. Afterward, trying to put the zip lock bag along with this rusty pin that came along with it into a tiny plastic, black film container was even more difficult. “Guys.. hurry.. there’s a police car!” One of my companions said from behind. This stupid pin won’t fit..! I thought as I kept on stumbling over the items. “Quynh, hurry up! Over here!” Alex lifted the loose hovering stand(I honestly have no idea what it’s called..)at the bottom of the light pole in the parking lot. “No Alex— Don’t! The police is right there, were going to get caught!” The two of them backed away. I was already speeding over. I gave up trying to put the pin into the container as it was originally and just threw it outside next to it under the pole. He slammed the cover shut and we all walked quickly to the car. Well, they did at least. “Omg.. my foot is stuck guys!” I called after them as I realized my foot was caught between the bottom of the pole and a big rock when I tried to walk. They were already so farther ahead that they couldn’t hear me. With some strength I clumsily pulled my leg out and rushed on over. We all hurriedly huddled into the car. “Phew! That was a close one.” One of us said. “Dude it looked like we were doing drugs or something out there..” “Sheesh! If we just told them we were Geocaching it’s not like their gonna do anything..” I looked down at my foot and caught sight of a noticeably small scratch at the tip of my boot that was a bright vanilla against the rather scruffy grey color of the fairly new boot I’d purchased. The look of it bothered me just a tiny bit.. but when I realized that peering down at it from time to time would remind me of the same exciting blood rushing moment I had felt, I guess it’s not so bad. First time geocaching.. lots of fun! ..Man. I haven’t written anything in so long -______- I’m finding an excuse to write about anything! I miss writing.
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“I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while. Its only confusing if you believe it has to make sense.”
- Haruki Murakami (via obseo)
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Another Introverted post that I like. =)
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