She Died and Bled Rocks

Stephi's here.

One fine summer's afternoon... three little girls named Stephanie, Poppy, and Katie sat down at the park to rest after a long game of tag. Or something. These little girl's were only 7. Or 6. Maybe even 8. But definitely not 9. And everything became an opportunity for adventure!

So naturally, when Katie told us about the single, bright yellow dandelion she found outside her door a few days ago, we immediately took action. To find Katie's secret admirer. And if we've learned anything from the Princess movies we've seen, its that when you find a dead dandelion in front of the house you share with 4 other people, it's only logical that it's a sign of love. And just as she finished telling us the story, we see Daniel, the boy who lived across from Katie and Poppy. It HAD to be Daniel. There's no one else!

"I SAW him! He put it there on Thursday!"

"I found it on Saturday..."

"I meant Saturday!"

"I saw him sneaking around your house too!!"

"Yeah!! And he had something yellow in his hands!"

Our minds and our hearts were SET on Daniel. We were so convinced it was Daniel, that we planted those little delusions into our little brains.

But we had to test it! We needed proof of Daniel’s love for Katie.

So we made a plan.

It was so brilliantly simple it had to work. So we sprang into action. We only had around thirty minutes before Daniel would come back.

Our plan started and focused on a ring. A rusty ring we found in the sandbox from a previous treasure hunt, with a rose carved in it.

As Katie laid there, on the sidewalk, Poppy and I added the finishing touch. We slipped the ring into Katie's thumb, as the ring was MUCH to big, but it worked, and we stood back to examine our masterpiece like artists.

Katie was on the floor, with her hands folded across her stomach(because that's how all dead people in romantic scenes looked). Red crushed rose petals were stuffed into the corners of her mouth and some were placed in the middle of her chest. To make it look like blood. Dark red rocks were also put on the ground beside her... because that's how dried blood looked like. And we scattered flower petals all over Katie.

"This is gonna be so romantic! Like a funeral!"

And so we waited for Daniel to come riding around that corner.

And there he was!

Me: DANIEL! Daniel! Katie... *fake sob* Katie was... shot. She was shot right in the chest by a man dressed in black. It was all so sudden! But this... *Poppy takes the ring off Katie's finger* this ring was the last ring she ever wore. Ever. It was her favorite ring, and she told us... before she*sniff* left that she wanted you to have it. Her last words were, "This ring... give it to Daniel. My one and only love. Bleh." (apparently "bleh" was the sound of death).

Then he rode away over Katie's hair.

How Periods Work... Stephi's Theory

Note: This is a joke, I was feeling goofy. I know how the female menstruation cycle really works.

Every month.... something happens inside a female's body.

That's right. KIDNEY FIGHTS. The hormones in a girl's body makes them extremely moody. And if the person is moody, the kidneys are moody. So they have to let out their anger and moody-ness on each other.

And kidneys are known to be extremely violent when provoked. Especially towards each other.

And they have an epic nonstop fight that lasts from 3 days to a week.

When a kidney is wounded, the body experiences cramps.

The wounds cause the kidneys to bleed excessively, and the blood is drained out through the vajayjay.

So thats why girls bleed from their hootchies. But what can be used to help?

This is where pads and tampons and those cramp pills come in.

• Pads pick up and absorb the spilled blood. But they don't stop the fighting.
• Tampons act as a wall between the disputants.
• 
• Cramp pills emit smooth music that calms the kidneys.
• Cramp pills and tampons together is the most powerful combination because it stops them from fighting and calms them down.

Virtual piss offs.

Stephi Here!

So if you have a Facebook or Instant Messenger... or just anything that allow people to practice the first amendment and you're below 27, you'd probably(hopefully... otherwise this rant-y post would sound bitchy) know someone who has the most... odd statuses.

Okay, I'm going all out now. When I say odd, I mean the stupidest, most irrelevant, unoriginal, smiley face abusive statuses in the world. The statuses that make me want to beat you with a sharp diamond brick.

1. Posting twice. Just so you can be on top of my lifestream.

2. Statuses that have NOTHING to do with ANYTHING.

Nublet van Nubble I totally ate monkey shit and danced with zebras! LOL!11!one1.

3. LOVE QUOTES.

Cheesey love quotes. Especially when they're aimed at no one. AT ALL.

Cheesy McCheeseballs:

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, its yours forever. If it dosent, then it was never meant to be.

I'm sorry Cheesy McCheeseballs...(Who's actually a real person. I just used a different name.) I was under the impression that you're single... for the past 14 years of your LIFE. So unless you're talking about your pet dog going away, I advise you to stop making yourself look like a total douche.

4. Typinggg likeeeeeee thiss because it'ss "cutee".♥

When I see people typing like that, I imagine them with a speech impediment.

But since I know they usually don't, I just get annoyed.

Eniem's M&M's.

Stephi Here

Until recently, I have thought that Eminem was two people.

I've heard of "Eminem(M&M)" and "Eminem(Eniem)".

and I thought the M&M Eminem was...

I thought he was the guy rapping in the Resses Puffs commercial...

I feel stupid. Stupid and ashamed.

I'll still call him Eniem though. That name's stuck on my brain like a clump of melted M&M's.

How I fight spiders...

Stephi Here...

I was reading Hyperbole and a Half: Spiders are Scary. It's okay to be afraid of them and it reminded me of how I kill Spiders.

Sleepy.

Stephi Here!

Right now, at 1:18am, I'm typing this from a neighbor's dark living room... THAT I BROKE INTO! Only kidding. he he... heh... It's only a sleepover.

This is because I'm high maintenance when it comes to sleeping. I lose sleep every night because of this problem.

Anyway, I'm at a friend's house for a sleepover. She and another buddie are upstairs on the fourth floor sleeping peacefully after a game of Candyland... with real candy.

My body won't let me sleep though. I'm seriously as tired as hell, but I can't. For you see, the temperature on the thermostat says 80 degrees. I can't sleep unless it's exactly Awesomcular Degrees Celunheit... I mean 74-76 degrees. See what sleep deprivation does to me? I talk nonsense. I THINK nonsense. Seriously, while I was writing the Blankie entry, I dozed off midway, but I was still typing... and I typed sandwich. "...dad said, "Mom and I threw it ... sandwich."

And sitting here in their living room, blogging with her laptop made me wonder... what would this situation be like if I hadn't known them for ten years? Would I be miserably sitting there in a fetal position rocking back and forth wishing I was in Antarctica belly sliding with human friendly penguins?

Still, even though I'm familiar with the household, I flinch at every sound. Thinking it's someone coming downstairs to bust me.

But it's so HOT. It's so friggin hot! And the mac's keyboard is not helping. Every few seconds, my little write-y blinking line disappears. Or it would move up a couple paragraphs. That makes me cranky, which makes me hot, which makes me cranky, with causes the macbook's keyboard's mistakes seem even worse.

PS; Right now it's raining. Rain = relaxing = makes me sleepier = makes me angrier at every little thing.

IT'S SO HOT.

First Blog Entry!

It's Stephi! And this is the S.S. Bigglelog.

Sally and Stephi's Little Blog.

Welcome!

About Sally and Stephi!

We've known each other for 8 years(since first grade!).

We've been friends for 3 years(Sally used to be really quiet and non social).

Sally doesn't like being offended(so I'm probably gonna get in trouble with her later).

Stephanie loves art(I just draw crapishly on MS paint).

We're going to different High Schools, and this blog will us connect!

Stephanie can also be called Stephi.

Stephanie goes to Sally's house pretty much everyday after school.

Sally plays the piano!

Stephi's attempted the violin.

Inspiration!

This blog's style has been inspired by hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com.

Allie Brosh(*fangirl squeal*) is probably the best blogger in the history of Bloggerville. Hyperbole and a Half is only blog I've ever read, and enjoyed! I actually liked it so much it inspired us to make our own in it's style(We're really unoriginal!). So go check her out if you don't know her yet. But after you do, this one will probably seem like crap compared to that.

So, welcome to our blog! You'll know who's who by the "It's_______" at the beginning of the story.

EDIT: Well, this was the first blog entry... published.

Blogger seems to put posts in order based on when I started/drafted the post.

Blankie

Stephi Here.

Every since I could remember, I've always had my blankie. My mother had bought it before I was born, and I've been cuddling with it since I was only a few hours old.

As I was a toddler, I'd bite the edges of blankie, which were lined by something a bit more durable than the main material used; because all of the lining is still there today. I could not sleep without nibbling on blankie. I always tasted detergent, so when ever I go to laundromats, I get a nostalgic sensation.

Blankienapped

There wasn't a single day where I slept without blankie. I once stayed up for two days straight because of blankie.

My parents had decided, on their own, that I was too old for blankie. FYI: I was seven or five. So while I was at school, they...

*

And I when I found out blankie was missing, I stayed up until 2am looking for it all over my room. On a school night. I didn't know they had disposed of blankie in the trash can, so I was afraid to ask my parents for help. After a few more minutes, I was getting cranky. I gathered up my little courage and went downstairs to ask my mom and dad if they've seen it.

Dad said, "Yeah. Mom and I threw it away."

That's when this little child went on a BAMFing rampage.

*

By 3 or 4am, they'd found it. Good thing they put it in a plastic bag. I decided to stay up since I'd only get 3 hours of sleep left. And I was not going to ruin my perfect attendance.

*= exagerated situation. But the storyline it was supposed to make was. My parent's aren't awesome enough to be ninjas.

I think we need to take some time to get to know other people...

There was one dark time in our relationship though. Back when I said I had never slept a single day without blankie was a lie.I've slept not one... or two days... but longer than a month. This is because I had found a replacement. My parents bought some special expensive herbal juice or something from Chinatown, and the beautifully decorated box came with a golden smooth silk like cloth. It was so smooth, that it would catch the smallest hooks on my fingers.

I forgot about blankie. And blankie was eventually folded up and put away in a closet somewhere.

One day, while I was bored and exploring, I opened up the door of the closet in the hallway. And I went through everything. I eventually got to blankie and I brought him to my room. That night, I slept with both my blankie and the golden cloth.

Eventually the golden cloth disappeared. And I was with blankie again!

Holes in my heart.

After 13 years together, I found blankie's fist hole.

I went apeshit.

And I fixed her. I felt so proud of myself.

And I'll continue fixing and patching her up. Every time a new hole comes up, I will be there with a sewing kit. No matter how many times, because my blankie is sentimentally important to me. She is my cape, my wings, a tidal wave, a hood, a doll, a scarf, a pillow, and a friend.

Question: Did you ever have a special childhood toy?

Misery Hospital

Stephi Here!

This is a story about me being in excruciating pain/starved. Oh, and my soap opera moment.

I was twelve at the time. And it began like any other day. I woke up to the late afternoon sun, eye's still tired from being up all last night. Staying in my bed wasn't going to get me food, so I go down the stairs to eat lunch, I get that feeling. The feeling of inevitable misfortune; like you know shit’s gonna go down. But I thought I was being paranoid. Plus, I was extremely tired. As fatigued as a 12 year old girl who stayed in her bedroom all day on the interwebs could be. I wanted to do nothing more than be lazy. Not the relaxing lazy, the sluggish lazy.

I was lazy all day long. I ate, went on the computer, ate, computer. And the occasional bathroom break.

At around 6, I started feeling queezy. And I decided that the computer was the cure. Like it would suck all the lethargy away.

By 7, I was a mess. A head throbbing, eyes twitching, stomach tightening mess. The computer was definitely not the cure for headaches. Oh! But showers always make me feel better! Showers relax! Relaxing is good.

The moment I stepped into the steam filled bathroom, I became extremely light headed and felt like passing out. And then, my dinner decid

ed that my stomach wasn’t a proper dwelling. So it escaped; up my esophagus.

I remember feeling a bit better after the incident and since I felt better, I decided to sleep it off. However, my hair was wet and I’ve never slept with wet hair before. I should have dried it first, but my stomach threatened to give my lunch up as well, and I went to bed.

I’ve never had a hangover before, since I’m underage. But I’m pretty sure my headache after waking up was almost ten times worse than someone waking up after twenty glasses of vodka.

I had no idea what time it was. I just wanted to get downstairs. My room suddenly seemed suffocating. Dramatically, I fell to the ground, as my legs buckled after a few steps. I stayed sprawled on the ground for a while. Then using all the strength I could muster, I start army crawling out the door

.

I crawled down the short hallway turning off all the lights as I did because each light bulb looked like a sun.

Oh fuck.

The stairs.

Those stairs mocked me.

In a might attempt to get up, I grabbed the banister, and drag myself downstairs. 1am. In the dark living room, I felt better. I'm feeling better! I said down on the cool leather couch and tried to relax a little.

My dad was downstairs already. He was watching TV.

My moment of zen was ruined when my head started swirling again. And it got worse and worse.

I told my dad, and he told my grandparents. They thought it would be a good idea to turn on ALL the friggin lights. And started bickering about me.

So my dad and grandparents are sitting around me. All lights are on. Scolding me for sleeping with my hair wet and for my computer overdose. And my head couldn't take it anymore. I broke down crying.

It was terrible. Lights and noise+headache=very sick and scared little me.

By 1:15am, I had yelled at my grandparents to shut up and convinced my dad to take me to the hospital.

Things got worse while I was there.

I was dizzy and disoriented, and the chairs were not comfortable, and there were sick people all around me. Like sick diseased contagious people. Ugh. I had to get on the waiting list. I had a wristband and everything.

I waited for an hour in the fluorescent lighted waiting room with a crying baby, hobo looking man, coughing lady and I didn't want to catch whatever they had so I was breathing through my sleeve the entire time.

At around 1:45, the doctor called me in to give me a little check up. He checked my temperature, my tongue, and in the end he gave me some Tylenol. I'm guessing the Tylenol worked, because I felt a lot better. I was supposed to stay and see the real doctor, but we went home. Because the waiting room was disgusting.

I was a bit toss-y turn-y at first, but I settled in. I was comfortable, my head stopped spinning, everything was normal again. I honestly felt a lot better!

Then they called.

My little bubble of peace popped.

Me:Hello..?

Phone Lady: Yes, hello? Is this Stephanie Zhao?

Me: Erm.. Yeah... Yeah.

PL: We need you to come back right away.

Me:It's okay. I'm feeling better already.

PL: I'm afraid you might have a life threatening condition. We need to check you out.

Me:... eh?

PL: Please come as soon as possible to be examined.

Me: ha...

I got scared. I started spazzing out and wondering how I'll die. I'll never get to highschool! I won't be able to have my own credit card! I'll never drive. I won't be able to do all the things on my bucket list! I DON'T HAVE A BUCKET LIST. I freaked out and slapped my dad awake. And I wrote down a scribbly list of things I wanted to do before I died while we drove to the hospital again.

And they sat me down in one of the little sections. With a bed, sink, and guest chair.

"The doctor will come shortly. While you wait, please pee in this cup."

I took the cup and stepped out of the section thing. I saw busy looking work people and doctors in flow-y jackets with clipboards. Where is the bathroom?! I ran back and stared pleadingly at mom. She nudged me back out. After standing there stupidly for a minute, I ask one of the doctor people. He pointed at a plant and walked away. I walk suspiciously towards the plant.

Tired Offended Teenage Rage Mode: Activated. "I am not an animal! I refuse to pee in a fucking plant. It's a mother fucking plant and people are around. What the fuckity fuck fuck? What kind of hospital tells their patients to pee in a cup in a plant? Jesus Christ Mother Fu-" Oh.. hey... a door. I stepped around it, and pushed the door open.

I was about to go, but then I thought... what if they had a camera in here? Like for emergencies... I mean, this IS a hospital.... I don't wanna pee in front of a camera! But I did eventually.

"Thank you! The doctor will come by shortly."

Apparently shortly in doctor time means 2 hours in people time. Boredom overcame panic quickly. And my mom came in and started lecturing me.

GODDAMMIT I'M SO BORED! Ooh! Look! Doctor's cabinet. I wonder if I'll get in trouble if they caught me poking at the stuff. At least I could make some bunnies out of cotton or blow up a glove balloon......................... but mother was there.

4am: I was starving. I was so hungry my stomach growled every few seconds. You could see my ribs, my tummy was so deflated. I hadn't eaten anything since... dinner. But that was emptied out in the shower. And I was sleeping all night. I would KILL for something to eat.

In walked the doctor.

"Well," he said, "there seems to be nothing wrong with you. It was only a headache." He looked me up and down, "And you said you threw up?"

"Mm-Hmm. I felt better after I upchucked though."

"Well, here. And would you like a turkey sandwich?"

I hate turkey ham sandwiches. I hate I hate I hate them. Well, back then. I'm okay with them now.

Stupidly, I said: "No, I'm okay." And he handed me a packet of papers about health and ANOREXIA/BULIMIA safety papers.

"I guess it was just a virus. Heh. Okay, I'll be back with some more stuff you just sit tight. Here's some orange juice. Let's see how well you keep that down."

And he walked away writing into his clipboard all important like.

OJ+Empty Stomach = UGHHHHHHH.

My stomach felt like it was on fire. I NEEDED food. The closest vending machines were... all the way down the hall at the other wing. I needed money.

Mom: No.

Mom: NO.

The doctor came back handed me more posters, and we left.

God, I hate that hospital.