Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Wk 03 - Twilight = $$$

I'm going to be a millionaire!! After watching that freekin' movie Twilight, I'm seeing dollar signs because once I get ahold of a good lawyer, I'm going to start a class action lawsuit for defamation of the Vampire character. If you're a Vampire, get in contact with me.

For the record - I'm gonna set something straight right now. Vampires DO NOT sparkle. Not in the sun, not in the shade, not inside, and not outside. What the *#@!, Stephenie! Why don't you just dress us all up in tu-tus and have us sing the theme song to Strawberry Shortcake (nevermind how I know about that). No wonder I can't get any respect.

Come to think of it, now I understand why the kids in gym class started calling me Sparky.

I plan to get this Vampire image thing back on track this year. Restore vampire respect to its rightful state!

I did manage to take some notes, though. That dude, Edward, is a total wuss-bag and annoying dork, but he does manage to get the chicks. He has that whole tortured, complicated teenage angst thing down pat. The girls pour all over him. So I stayed up all night practicing, and I think I perfected the look pretty good. The next day, I took it for a test spin with two totally hot girls in the hallway.


Edward just might be on to something. Those babes really seemed to be digging it. In fact, it got such good results I'm working on how to talk like him now.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Wk 02 - Being a Vampire Sucks!

Being a Vampire sucks! It's nothing like they make it out to be on TV or in the movies. At least not for me. Just think about it - I'm going to be fifteen years old forever. Is there anything cool about that?

I turned into a Vampire only 6 months ago, and believe me, it was not by choice.

It happened at a family kickball game that went horribly wrong. I was playing first base and my phony Vampire cousin, Garth, had just kicked. I was waiting for the catch at first when that moron barrelled into me. (Remind me to tell you the ridiculous story of how he turned in another post).

When he ran into me, his fangs got stuck in my neck so deep, I almost died from the loss of blood. And at that point, I had no choice but to let that dummy fully turn me.



So now I walk around playing this moronic 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' game. It's so stupid - like anyone can't tell I'm a Vampire with these two GINORMOUS teeth sticking out of my head, like I'm a human-walrus or something. And don't bother trying to write in to tell me they can retract like some kind of cool switchblade for the mouth, because that's just another lie those phony TV execs are putting out there.

Mom's been on my case to make news friend's at this new school so I introduced myself to a couple of guys that were playing table coin hockey at the lunch table today. I thought it was going really well until they asked me to put my teeth on the table to make a goal and I swallowed one of their pennies.


What happened to Vampires being scary, anyway? You know - feared. With all these stupid Vampire shows and movies coming out, we have become a big joke. Like everyone's become desensitized.

Well, you know what they say: If you can't 'bite them, join them'.  (A little vampire humour there.)  Seriously though, I'm going to have to do some research on this 21st century vampire thing if I want to fit in.

Tonight, I am going to do what no other heterosexual teenage male would dare be caught doing. I'm going to rent 'Twilight' so I can get some pointers. I would say I'd rather die than suffer that humiliation of being caught with a Twilight DVD, but then I've already done that.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Wk 01 - This is NOT a Journal!

This is not a journal. It’s a blog and there’s a huge difference! A journal is something a Wimpy Kid would keep. Blogging, on the other hand, is something that everyone is doing these days, so it can't be all that lame.

Trust me, I wouldn’t be writing this stupid blog if it wasn’t required at my stupid new school. I'm sure you've heard of the rule - Don't Ask, Don't Tell. That's right, my last phony school kicked me out because I told someone I was a Vampire. Keep that on the DL though. Mom will freekin' kill me (again) if I'm booted out of another school.

I’ve only been here 6 days and I hate it already. It’s so PHONY! That’s my new word. I got it from the kid who constantly complains in that book they make you read in school, 'Catcher in the Rye'. I wish I could make that idiot live in my shoes for a day. He'd stop whining, for sure.


Since I have to start this lame blogging thing, I might as well tell you about my miserable existence.

My dad was murdered fourteen years ago by some freak who called himself the 'Self Proclaimed Anton Murderer', or 'SPAM', as they call him on the street. That's right - he murdered dad just because his name was Anton. I'm not even kidding! Oh yeah, that's my name also.

Anyway, after that phony killer became famous, he changed his name to some crazy crop circle symbol that nobody could pronounce. I mean, what kind of loser does that, anyway!


But then his Google search ratings plummeted so he switched back to just 'SPAM'.



Well, at least I don’t have to spend the rest of my life all hell-bent on avenging dad, because I killed SPAM on that same night.

I was only 1 year old at the time and my parents had taken me to the Never-Leave-Land Ranch. We were waiting in line to ride the Run-Away-From-The-PopStar Train, behind SPAM, when he overheard mom call my dad 'Anton'. SPAM freaked out and pushed my dad over the railing.

Mom had been holding me at the time and when dad fell, his hand got caught on my diaper and pulled it off.

As the story goes, mom turned to face SPAM and I got so scared, I peed right in his eyes. (That's the only part of this story I like.) Makes sense; I guess pee would sting if it got in your eyes. Anyway, he jumped around screaming that his eyes were stinging and fell over the railing, too.



Now I remember that ugly bald-headed SPAM every time I comb my hair because he scratched my forehead before he fell and left a scar.

But that’s still not the worst part; the scar is two ovals next to each other. I always tell people it's a ‘W’ that stands for 'Winner', but really, the first thing they see when I show it to them is a set of boobs, or worse, a butt.

And don't go thinking you phonies are so clever calling me Butt-Head, because like a thousand people before you already thought of it!