So. Giggles Is Back is this shitttt :)

Hola! (Actually, scratch that, I don't like spanish.)

Hi!
This is my first post in a very large number of days. I find it rather despicable that no one has found the time to inquire into my disappearance. I could have been gone for a variety of reasons, but you didn't care. So, just to make you feel that much better, I'm going to tell you what did NOT happen to me while you were off not caring about what COULD have been happening to me.

1) I was committing suicide by {choose an option from a to -}

a) suffocating myself by wrapping my face in plastic wrap
b) cutting my wrists open and letting them bleed all over the flipping place until I died slowly
c) hanging myself from a ceiling fan
d) eating rabid rats that have been living in sewage pipes for over a year
e) walking around shooting people so I could be fairly sentenced for death
f) climbing the Eiffel tower so I could jump off, and because of the shape hit my body along several rungs, splattering blood among the parisians and tourists

And I will get back to this, but i have no more time. shame. :)

The ultimate playlist:
For just whenever, and in no order.


- Scarborough Fair - Simon & Garfunkel
- Eet - Regina Spektor 
- Hazy (Feat. William Fitzsimmons) - Rosi Golan
- Hear You Me - Jimmy Eat World
- With or Without You - U2
- I Want to Save You - Something Corporate 
- Collide - Howie Day
- If You Were Here - Cary Brothers
- High - James Blunt


Seriously. Don't diss my music. I will find you and pour gasoline on you and light you on fire then cut those pieces up like sushi. I will cut you up like a sista from the hood.


Also, I need help:
Hide & Seek - Imogen Heap
Lyrics:


Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.

Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah of course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit. 


I will give my growing college fund to the mothersucker who can properly interpret this with their own mind, or at least, give me a good enough answer to figure it out on my own. It's bothering me.


Peace, Queen 

There's still the world left if it'll take me.

And I guess there's not much left to do but wait for everyone to agree that i can leave.

Which is soonish. I hope.

This isn’t it,

There’s still the world left, if it’ll take me,

There’s still the open air until I stop breathing.

There’s still love until my heart breaks into a million pieces,

There’s still life until I give up living,

There’s still a race until I turn around a say,

THIS ISN’T IT, No, not at all!

This fight ain’t ever ending till we fall!

           

CrashBang, There’s no one to save me!

Crash Bang, There’ no one to catch me when I fall

With the world to witness as my god,

And these lips as they give their final speech,

They’ll talk and talk, but never preach.

Until they hear the Crash Bang of a soldier’s fall,

Whatever. I don't know. I'm kind of. Confused.

And I don't know what's really happening to me.

This drifting thing, it drifting like a lot, just saying. 

I don't know. Whatever. Screw this. 

She's a Crashing Star and He's Just a Shithead.

DISCLAIMER: There's a lot of swearing in this post. Deal with it.

It hurts when a friend thinks she can get away with anything.

It hurts when she knew she was hurting you but still wanted forgiveness.

It hurts when she thinks she can get everything she wants, except AP math. Seriously? I lose two good friends and the only problem she has in her life is that she’s not in AP math.

I do not detest her. I can’t. We have “history” together. And she wants me to be her friend, despite screwing me over, because of that reason. She says, “Queen, why don’t you come over?” And she has the audacity (n. willingness to take bold risks) to look me in the eye and say she wants to become better friends with me. Because we’ve drifted. And I argue with everybody to go. Because I always thought she was a good friend. That she would never hurt me. Never take away something I cared so much about.

Not that I care anymore. He helped her screw me over. When I told Poopiehead that I liked him, the only person he cared about was her. He asked me if that was the reason she said no, because I liked him and she was apparently sweet enough not to hurt me like she did. He blamed ME. And that’s what sucks. That I didn’t realize at the time that Poopiehead not only screwed me over, but the only reason we were such good friends was because I tried everything for him. Even when it hurt, I still talked to him, listened to his problems when BELIEVE IT OR NOT POOPIHEAD, I HAVE A LIFE TOO AND I GET PROBLEMS TOO. It sounds so depressing, but I always listened to him. A L W A Y S. and now I don’t even know who he is. It’s like I opened myself up to a stranger for more than a year.

Fuck them.

I’m not saying I’m pissed at her still. Truth is, I don’t care about their lives. It’s just that I made so much of an effort with the both of them, but they didn’t care at all, and now she’s begging for things to go back the way they were but she needs to lose something, because not only did I lose the guy I was nutty about, but also two good friends because of a relationship that, let’s face it, will one day end. Which sounds bitchy. And maybe they’re hopelessly in love. So why did they go behind my back for two weeks? That just proves that they knew they were doing something wrong.

Good for them. I’m happy for them, I really am. But they need to stop caring about how I feel. They showed just how much they do when they lied to me for two weeks.

So Poopiehead and Superstar, or whatever your name is, this is our last goodbye.

Peace the fuck out,

Queen.

P.S. I need a new guy to like. I wish our school wasn’t filled with so many retards.

P.P.S. If you’re reading this Superstar, or whatever, can you please not act like you care about my feelings anymore? Just stop. Let me heal without you. You can’t always get what you want. And if you break up with Poopiehead because of this, I will never speak with you again. I’m not even kidding.

And you know what else?

I. Don't. Give. A. Shit. Anymore.

You Can't Always Get What You Want, But If You Try Sometimes...

There’s a feeling.

And usually, it leaves you feeling unpleasant and hollow, but you’re too tired to feel it completely, too tired to cry, so you become numb. And you’re supposed to be busy, supposed to be working, but you can’t feel your fingers anymore and you drop your pen and close your hands into fists and force yourself to focus.

It’s not depression, because you can smile, you CAN but you don’t know if you want to just right then. So you listen to that good-feeling song and you’re forced to smile and laugh at the fact that you even felt that way for a while.

It’s only because you know something’s missing, but you know you just have to wait a little longer and everything will be okay, because you’re always just starting to live your life. The moment you stop learning something or feeling something or just living is the moment you die, but still there’s something left and that’s memories. And the more memories you leave behind means more flowers laid on your grave, more people smiling in your memory. You make them proud to say they once knew you, once talked to you; you once made them feel like themselves again. And they thank God because they knew you at a point. Amazing, isn’t it? Being missed like that.

Because you’re just human, and you feel the same as billions of others just like you. And you want to be heard because you think you’re different. And to a certain extent, I guess you are. But you’re the same because you live for the same thing.

You live for you.

Queen. 

Of Acquiring Dignity and Bollywood's Healing Powers

Today I spent a lot of time thinking. Which is weird, because I do not do that a lot. But I was thinking about boys.

Many people think that girls who think about boys are shallow. I find that not to be true. It’s when the girl in question stops thinking about anything else when she becomes idiotic. Otherwise, she’s fine. Unless she liked a certain Poopiehead. For three years. Roughly. Then she is an idiot. Now she can’t even watch the old Bollywood movies she used to watch with so much love because they’re always about best friends falling in love and she used to be good friends, okay, not best friends, but really good friends with Poopiehead and she was almost going to be even closer but the two IDIOTS BIG FREAKING IDIOTS ruined any chances of that happening, and now every time those movies come up and other cute ones (Kuch Kuch Hota Hain, Ishq Vishq, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, Kal Ho Naa Ho (but that one is pretty self-explanatoryily cry-generating)) she bursts into tears because she feels like she is a major fail and he doesn’t even know the effect he had on her.

Anyway, so today I was thinking, and I was realizing that if I was this hypothetical sad excuse for a girl, I would move on because obviously, Poopiehead’s not EXACTLY what she thought he was. He’s also very self-centered and worries too much about what other people think about him. But otherwise, he’s nice. And he cares about what this girl thinks. And he listens to her. And he understands her even when she can’t explain. And he has a smile that can light up her entire day. And then she goes around grinning like an idiot, walking into pillars and poles strategically placed around her school campus for lovesick teenage IDIOTS such as herself.

But now she has to think about herself.

So, blog-readers, this is the last time Queen will allow herself to think about Poopiehead. Because from now on, he is ancient history.

Queen

P.S: Giggles stop being so suicidal. Monkey is an idiot and he does NOT deserve you. He NEVER did. I always thought so. But I never said that. Because you say that sort of stuff to your friends when they realize the guy they once thought was so awesome is just a CLEAN, OVER-CONFIDENT,  ADMITTEDLY HANDSOME JACKASS. 

I am cyber-hugging you now :)

Today felt like my hair was shining like the sun on the water.

No, I'm not ON anything. Except, as i said before, life.
Really. I know it's hard to believe with me being so... yeah and all but bigger miracles have happened.
Our Irish teacher told us about her son's first buying things incident. It's very cute how she talks about him. You can just tell she loves him. It's kind of adorable. And then I started crying (not because of the story) just because I'm weird and hormonal.

Giggles

The Opposite of Love is Indifference

I read somewhere that if you learn to not care about someone at all, not HATE them but sincerely not give a shit anymore, you are truly over him.
And yeah, okay, I haven't reached that stage just yet. There's no point lying about it. But I don't want to talk to him as much as before, and I don't feel bad anymore. Like I genuinely felt empty when we didn't talk for a day. Maybe that's just my hunger talking. Hm. I DID just eat. But that wouldn't explain the pre-Ramadhan reactions I had.
Personally, I am sick about writing about Poopiehead. He is not worth this much internet space.


I am going to go eat now.


Peace out 
Queen-ster.


PS. Monkey got a haircut and I kinda like it even though it looks funny.

Epicness Of My Gay Friends

They TOLD him. What the hell? They actually locked me in my own bathroom and said they were going to do it. And the entire phone conversation I kept banging on the bathroom door, and this is like at 12:30 at night, so my parents naturally walked in (luckily they were awake) asking what the hell was happening. And Ro-Ro and Mwajanator, the only two that were there, were frantically trying to keep the phone conversation going on despite my family being there, bewildered. Ro-Ro tried to calm my family down, but then my oblivious mother whipped out the bathroom key from godknow’swhere and unlocked me. I barged out of the bathroom to five people, and one on the phone, yelling “CUT THE PHONE, CUT THE PHONE!” 

He was out, by the way. I think it was at a soccer game. Yes, at 12:30 at night.

So I grabbed my mobile from under Mwajanator, raced out of my room and down to my living room. The phone was ringing and Mwajanator was yelling at me to press the little red button NOW but I said “Mwajanator! Stay away from me!” Then we ran to my dining room. And raced around my dining table. I put a mahogany (I think) chair between me and Mwajanator. Then Poopiehead finally picked up his phone. 

“Hello?” He sounded so normal. What the hell?

I said, “POOPIEHEAD (not really) DON’T LISTEN TO ANYTHING THEY SAY - STAY AWAY FROM ME, MWAJ - THEY’RE STUPID!” When I really wanted to say just tell me goddammit, it’s not fair, you can’t make me wait. I read somewhere that a guy immediately knows whether or not he’ll ever go out with a girl - or was it a girl? Hm. Whatever.

Anyway after that phone call, Mwajanator and Ro-Ro said a bunch of Indian and English, (and some creatively cocktailed) swearwords to me and I acted like I was very chilled. Of course, my organs were practically vibrating and my butt felt very warm (that happens when anything to do with Poopiehead comes up. I don’t know why, I swear it’s not anything perverted. But it’s like someone’s holding a candle up to my butt. And my shoulders. But mostly my butt). 

When Ro-Ro and Mwajanator left, I boxed my pillow and I don’t like to admit it, but I think I may have cried a little.

We haven’t talked since. It’s been 12 hours, I guess, and we spent most of them out or without Internet or asleep.

But if he wanted to do anything about it, he would have done it by now. Or not, because Mwajanator told him not to talk to me until she talked to him.

I can’t believe this. And I can’t even have any chocolate because I’m fasting. But I do want to sob a little now. I don’t even know why. I was so SURE I was getting over him. Hell, I was good at it too. But ahhh. Whatever.

We’ll see what happens.

Peace, Queen.

I Just Lost My Life.

Poopiehead knows.

I’m screwed.

‘Nuff said.

Queen.

A little Monkey dressed in blue.

Gotcha. It's a METAPHORICAL monkey. and I stole its shorts.
Technically... i got in it's pants?
This week's been a little insane.
Who knew you have to write so freakin much for art class? This is LITERALLY how much homework i have (it doesn't look like much Live, but that's only because it's mostly on my laptop):

I don't understand, how they expect us to work so much when we're works in progress. Seriously, i barely know who *I* am, let alone the square root of pie! I should come with a warning sign. I swear. 
and...and...and....I HAVE SO MUCH WORK ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY AND OMIGOD I REALLY JUST NEED A VACATION AND ITS NOT NORMAL FOR YOUR RIBCAGE TO HURT AFTER YOU DO SIT UPS IS IT? AND... little brothers are  AWESOME. I've kinda always wanted a venus flytrap like Queen's brother. 




I'm going to go cry in a corner now instead of doing my work. because i really can't deal right now. kbye. o.O
Giggles.


Ps. I know this was probaly the saddest thing evar. 
pps. I went to a little kids birthday party last night. I kinda just sat there because we were related and then i had to be all, yaay, you're 6! What a big girl! even though *I* don't even think i'm old enough to operate my own brain let alone tell people that they're big girls. what does that even mean? You're such a big girl, go lose some weight? or like... you're such a big girl, go party hard! 


I need intensive psychotherapy. I think i'll go now. 

For the Sake of My Pink Underwear, You Cute Tourist Boy, You

It has been a long time since I wrote on this blog. i guess being hungry can do that to you. I’m almost halfway into Ramadhan, and as much as I hate to admit it, yes I am waiting for my period so that I don’t have to fast. Also, I have a villa in hell. It WAS a condo but then I got upgraded.

This is so annoying. The fact that there is a cinnamon roll in my fridge is eating away at my brain. Ugh. I will devour that thing like anything when the sun goes back down.

I’m supposed to be essaying, but there is a nagging thought at my brain (other than the cinnamon roll). It is to do with Giggles. 

Okay firstly, we have no classes together this year. It burns me up HOLY SHIT HOLY SHITTTTT A GLOW IN THE DARK STAR JUST FELL OFF MY CEILING AND LANDED RIGHT NEXT TO ME AHHHHHHH!!!!!

Okay. I’ve recovered. It could have hit me really easily.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. Giggles. So there’s this new guy at school and his name (not real one, of course) is Monkey. Giggles will probably change that name soon, but for now, let’s call him Monkey.

Monkey is [content deleted due to Mwajinator's big mouth]. He speaks  [content deleted due to aforementioned reasons]. He is the [content deleted. Yeah, you guessed it, MWAJ.] in his class. He’s  [content deleted. You know why by now.] and he’s cute. But most importantly, he’s shy.

A lot of people don’t know this about me, but most of the guy’s I’ve liked are shy. It’s ironic because as much as I wish I was shy, I am not. (I wish I was shy because in almost all the books I’ve read, the shy girl always gets the hot guy. WHYYYY????) So the question here is, why am I mostly attracted to shy guys? Except Poopiehead. Who I am not quite over. But anyway.

Giggles likes Monkey, a lot. And I DO NOT LIKE MONKEY. Just makin’ it clear. I just fear that IF I get to know him more, what with him being the type of guy I usually fall for, I may fall for him. So I guess in a way it’s a good thing I don’t have any classes with him and Giggles. Because I can just imagine the way we would glare at each other to sit next to him, then I would mentally slap myself for even WANTING to sit next to him.

But the truth is, I really need to get over Poopiehead. It’s been about three years that I’ve liked him on and off. Annoying. I know. I’m only 15. Like I even KNOW what love is. But my kookie friend Ro-Ro thinks it’s love. I don’t even know, so I guess that means it’s not love (?) My brain is so confused right now.

Anyway. So the other day I almost got raped. It was Friday, and Giggles, our friends Tuna, Mwajanator and Rizzy-BoomBoom and I went out to a fancy-ass hotel where they had a wooden, open-air gazebo overlooking the Indian Ocean, 4 meters off the water resting on wooden stilts. We were just sitting there, and believe it or not it was fun. No one ate anything though, in respect of me and Mwajanator and Rizzy-BoomBoom, since we were fasting. Ah, hunger is a bitch.  

So when we were leaving, Giggles, Mwajanator and Rizzy-BoomBoom ditched me and Tuna because we were playing in the fountain and daring each other for a lot of quiche (cash) to do a cartwheel on the lawn of this fancy-ass hotel yelling “I’M A RETARD! I’M ALSO WEARING MY FRILLY HOT PINK UNDERWEAR AGAIN!” Well okay, she dared me. But then I saw a hot tourist boy so I decided against it. So Giggles, Mwajanator and Rizzy-BoomBoom were up ahead and me and Tuna started flinging water from the fountain to each other, dropping our school bags all over the place, sitting on the rolly benches and laughing like hyenas on weed (which of course, we do not need). Then we left the hotel, and the three of them were blue and grey (uniform colors) specks in the distance with some pink and green and black (shoes and bags). Tuna and I were following them on the dusty road when suddenly, we realized we were being followed by a guy who was looking us up and down and I believe he even licked his lips at one point. It’s not like I blame him, what with it being me and all. But gross.

Now the road we were walking on was a long-ass road. For shizzle. We were on there for about five whole minutes, which is a long time when you fear your virginity is going to forcefully be taken away from you. Finally, Giggles, Mwajanator and Rizzy-BoomBoom stopped a bajaju, which is tuk-tuk in Thailand, or rickshaw in India. Here’s a picture:

Don't they kinda look like cars sticking their tongues out? That's what I always thought. Hm. Ours was like this only A LOT smaller and we all sat in it. It was pretty funny, five people squashed in the back of one of those. Luckily the ride was only three minutes long. Better than getting raped, I guess. The bajaju driver wanted Tuna to sit in the front with him. That got me laughing for a good twelve minutes and making lewd comments in Hindi (a language we all understood) and Tuna almost crying. Until she hit me. I think that made her feel slightly better. I guess I deserved it.

Anyway, piss out. Queen (sadly not Latifa)

I Will Wait For You, Confidence pants. Are you in the mail yet?

Today I wore a skirt. MLIA. Except it's not. Because MLINVC. (Not Very Confident)

Things were really awkward in class because I was all failsauce with none of my friends. So I kinda sat a seat over from Grape and then this other dude who i vaguely know sat between us. Except he was being all " NO WORK! WORK IS BAD! I WILL NOT WORK! GIRLS CAN WORK!" 
It was all good and I was being all emo and quiet and then we had to talk and I may have acted a little bit spastic because I'm really NOT at all confident. At all. Ever. Like actually. I'm a bit of a fail of a bad example of a not confident person. I'd probably just lie there quietly and not tell people if i've been shot.

that's me, on the ground. bleeding. And the curly pink writing above my head? That's my thoughts.
Yeah. I'm not even confident next to homeless redheaded vampires on drugs with no hands or legs. Or women who look like they're from a tragic bygone era wearing black and letting their hair flow in the wind like they're in some freaking MOVIE. Even When my stomach hurts (since i'm bending for some reason) even though it's my heart that has a hole in it. Where is confidence when i need it?

I basically told everyone I'm pregnant even though I'm not. What's wrong with me? I told every i associated myself to Juno. Like... really?! I couldn't think of any another character. But JUNO? *Sigh*.
It wasn't because she's pregnant.
It's because:
1. She's got dark hair
2. She kinda not coping so hot with high school
3. we're both sarcastic (but I'm only like that in my head. Just because I'm not saying it, doesn't mean I'm not thinking it!)
4. we both like Michael Cera. I like his acting skills. He's really not that hot.

So that was...school.
Not-so-gigglish, Giggles :)

Poopiehead and Hot Pink Numbers

I need new eyeliner.

Seriously, this is an actual issue. In the morning, I meticulously carve the bottom line of my eye with a black eye pencil, only to realize, seven hours later, it’s magically disappeared off my face.
And me without eyeliner is just plain scary.
I COULD use mascara instead but I hate that gunky stuff on my eyes. It’s annoying and, frankly, unnecessary.

Today was a pretty horrible day. No classes with Giggles, so no giggles. How cool am I? Word play. Poopiehead, almost ex-crush, seen twice and seen seeing Queen thrice. I was cool like ice though. I totally ignored him and checked out his very buff friend, new to our school. His friend’s a lot nicer than Poopiehead. Even though I barely know him. He’s also a lot taller and a lot cuter.
I want to slap Poopiehead.
Guy with blue glasses (Distraction Boy) is not happening. I think the only reason I was interested in him in the first place was because he’s different. I realize now that’s he’s probably ATTEMPTING to be different. It’s all an act, you see. His fascination with clothing and good music and his good sense of style...yipes. He may be gay. That would be a shame. They get all the good ones.

Note to self: I must ignore Poopiehead at all costs. About two weeks ago, I was convinced I was in love with him. In a freaky mid-teen way, I probably was, but then he had to go and spoil it by trying to hard with his homies and being stupid and selfish. I suppose I only like(d) him because he was different.

Note to self: All boys are the same. Not one is different. Not even Poopihead’s mate. He’s the same. Only a lot cuter. (HA! TAKE THAT POOPIEHEAD!)

Today, wore sensible underwear. None of that cotton stuff (saving it for tomorrow). Instead, I wore a hot pink frilly number that cost about 15 USD. It’s cool, they were totally worth it. I think. I feel very un-Indian for buying them. When I did buy them, I skipped lunch that day in the mall to save money.

Now that Ramadhan is coming up, I must behave like a proper Muslim girl. No more chasing boys and no more cursing. I must be at my most mature level, probably a little higher, actually, and I will be all pure and holy and mellow on the inside like a Bob Marley song.

Now to hate on Poopiehead by repeatedly listening to “I Get Knocked Down” by Smashmouth. Then in Ramadhan, I will just do that by remembering I should be pure and holy and Bob Marley-like.

Minus the weed, obviously.

Queen Out. 

Country Farms and Lovely Lips.

Things you should know about Queen:
No, I am not gay. However, if you are, it’s okay.
Yes we are both female, and in our mid-teens. Our high school resembles a country farm and I’m the chicken. You NEED me. And no one will eat me any time soon because I poop eggs and humans eat that.
Okay horrible metaphor.

Basically, everyone deserves a BS spot. So my dear friend Giggles and I, Queen (the superior one, ergo the name) decided to start a blog. People just don’t get us. So why not just anyone on the Internet?
I would just like to clarify one thing. We are brown. And our families enforce Indian law upon us. So yeah, if our parents found out half the things we were up to, they would probably dig up a basement for us and handcuff us to hell. Like my mother does not know I own a thong.
Personally, I would like to keep it like that. By doing my own laundry and never fixing that 24-hour wedgie in front of her.
On the plus side, I felt very sexy today. It’s just that when someone accidently brushes past your butt, it feels like they are groping you. Which I know Giggles wouldn’t have a problem with. I would probably kick them in the nuts if someone DID actually grope me.

This year is going to suck, I just know it. We’re in our sophomore year, and there are no cute boys. Well there is this one boy who would be a good distraction from the boy I currently like, who I have liked for quite a while now and isn’t really healthy for me. But let’s not get into him. He’s stupid and I think he’s a poopiehead.
This Distraction Boy, he wears giant blue glasses and he has a very British accent. It’s actually very hard to understand what he’s saying and I have to stare at his lips when he talks. That’s not really a problem, actually. He has lovely lips.

Anyway, this is Queen. 

School, Thongs and Irish teachers.

Welcome to Werbal Weed. Because we don't do drugs, we get HIGH ON LIFE.


We've got to be clear on a few things before you bother reading all our sob stories:


1. We don't so drugs. We're just a little messed up like GJPG WR_TUN @$_T( @$_TUnvq2-/tb79v]2476b2[76[2487[12836-9#%@_#^&@$_^&$&^ in the head. 


2. We might not make sense a lot. 


3. we're a LITTLE WITTLE TINY SCHNITZEL bit random. :) 


4. We don't own a pig. 


5. We don't love people, but we'll try to love you because quite frankly, you're the only people reading our blog. Kthanks for that :)


6. We get a little pissy. so we might not be too much fun. 


7. We are Giggle and Queen. I am Giggle, and she's queen. 


8. I really like making lists. So don't be surprised if my posts end up with unnecessary entering and looks like poetry with numbers. 


9. i'm itchy a lot. 


10. School just started. 


11. We wore thongs.


12. My teacher used to be from ireland. I think. It's in her name.