Proactiv-ism

This is what I feel like.

One thing that makes me wish I wore makeup is this horrendously frightful disease that attacks your face with red bumps and tiny little black spots. No, not the plague. I just mean acne. And people with acne have to come to the realization really fast that their self-worth can't be based on how clear their skin is or they will develop acne-induced agoraphobia. Every time I'm having a fight with my complexion those Proactiv ads are like angels of light calling to me, and finally I decided to order it. I found out that the ads are American and the great deal of $30 is actually $70 in Canada. Suddenly my complexion isn't looking so bad... I am lucky in that I've never had really bad acne. Ever since I can remember, however, I have been susceptible to what is known as "bathroom-possession." It's something that happens when you go into the bathroom between 10-12 pm to get ready for bed and you wash your face and everything is going okay until all of a sudden you notice an imperfection in your skin and then you black out and when you wake up you look like you have the measles or some other facial disease, because there wasn't just one imperfection was there??!! You found more and more and YOU HAD TO EXPEL THE EVIL FROM YOUR BODY!!!!!! And then your mother gets mad at you and says, "You're going to give yourself scars!" and you mumble something like, "Whatever woman," and then a week later when the blemish is gone but in its place is a scar on your face (and on your soul), you know the truth: your mother is always right. Always.

This One's for My Bro

I wrote this when I was nine. I think it shows many things about me: my early love of writing, my hilarious and witty sense of humor and my ability to depreciate others for the sake of being funny, regardless of familial loyalty. I've kept the spelling and grammar mistakes for your reading pleasure. And yes, it was typed:

"Josh is my brother although he is stupid he is the kind of person you have to forgive him for being born that way. He was born on mars,although he was an ugly craeture my mom learned to love and care for him.And I think he turned out fine,(stupid) but fine.My mom (says) she named him Josh because of the way he makes his alian sounds.By the past few years he learned how to speak inglesh,and write now he can probley say all the words but,the docters say he will always make some sounds no one knows what he is saying. He will never get the hang of using the toilet.(This is a true story from Sanich News)

"By Faith Blenkin."

 You're welcome.



Ollie has issues...

P.S. I should clarify that the inspiration for this story came from hearing the plethora of my brother's action figure noises that were constantly coming from his room. It was his own language. I was always disappointed when I tried to play with his action figures and I think I now know why: I could never make those noises.

ThE eViL EaSter bUnnY

What mother is letting their child sit on that?

Yesterday I just had to see a picture of a little yellow chick in a nest and I started salivating for Easter chocolate. Easter is coming. One year our family had a big get together at Beacon Hill Park and we had an Easter egg hunt. There was a little kid race and for the first, last and only time in a race, I won, probably against some toddlers and really slow, crippled kids. Someone in the family wore a giant Easter bunny head and it traveled around to different people, which if they were trying to keep the magic alive, was very confusing. Why does the Easter bunny keep changing people? And who was crazy enough in the family that they thought it was necessary to rent a bunny head for the occasion? That's a trick question. It could be anyone. But as much as I admire their enthusiasm, I'm really surprised it didn't freak me out. I'm actually surprised the Easter bunny in general didn't freak me out. For one, a full-grown man in a bunny suit makes me think genetic mutation. Secondly, the Easter bunny was clearly trying to kill me by dropping off little eggs of poison all over my house. Doesn't the Easter bunny know I am not only allergic to dairy products, I'm also allergic to cocoa? Yes, of course the Easter bunny knows that. The Easter bunny is a wheeler and dealer. How else would he be able to get the chickens to give up their babies? But the truth is no one wants to be the only kid eating jelly beans while everyone else is eating chocolate eggs. No one.