Seriously, I laughed my ass off like twenty times because my blog started something like this...
*Attempt #1*
Love...how do you describe it? Everyone interpretates it differently.
...I cracked up.
*Attempt #2*
Usually, I'm not the type of person to write cheesy blogs and post them. But I guess this person deserves it.
LOL. She would've laughed at ma' faceeee for writing that shit.
*Attempt #3*
There are different types of love. 'I love mommy & daddy'-love, 'OMG, LYKE BFF'S 4EVAAA'-love, 'My dog's, like, my best friend...'-love, Grandma&grandpa love...and so on.
...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
The other 7 attemps I won't describe because 1. they're too embarrassing, I'm ashamed right now already! and 2. my blog would be waaaay too long.
I think this is a pretty damn awesome intro, if I can say so myself.
So let me start telling you why and what this blog's about.
So a few days ago I was so tired. So broken. My day had been long; university is a bitch sometimes. I was ready at like 5 PM, but noooo I had to go to the library to copy 49568396483 pages of psychologists explaining 'why we do the things we do'. I love it, but at that moment, I was like 'STFU, Forsyth'. I walked home. I felt like I had walked for miles and miles, because AS USUAL...I missed my bus. I bump into some junkie that lives under the bridge I was walking through. No offence to the junkie, I bet he's reallyreally nice, but when it's 8 PM at night and you're dying to get home, it's not a funny thing to experience. Note: if it was a businessman in a suit looking at me pervertedly, I would've thought exactly the same. I didn't know the dude.
Anyway, so after having to experience a perverted look and a yucky guy licking his upperlip, I walked further. I was so hungry, because I had already spent the last 2 euros I had left on a sandwich earlier that day. My hands were hurting, my head was aching. My mood was unbearable.
And if it wasn't bad enough, it started to fucking rain. Grrrreat.
I finally arrived home.
I opened the front door (with lots of effort; I don't know what's wrong my door, sometimes it just won't open and I have to go in through the backyard or any other existing door...), but as guessed it wouldn't open the first trial. At that point I was mad at the door (Psychologists might explain it as a typical case of EXCITATION TRANSFER MODEL, thank you very much). Obviously the door did not kick my butt or hurted my feelings, but at that moment I just thought it was too... yellow. Stupid annoying yellow door, just shut up! I'M MAD AT YOU!
So ok, I finally managed to open the door and there I was. I accomplished my goal.
Then I heard someone running down the stairs at full speed (324935 km an hour).
I looked at her. Her bangs were covering one eye. Her eyeliner was a little messy, 'cause she tends to scratch her eye, like ALL the time. She was wearing her boyshirt and probably jeans, I don't quite remember. Her sock had a hole. She had the cheesy smile she always put for fun. She posed and said 'what's up, sexy motherfucker'. I laughed.
That day, she had bought me a campina macchiato. And I don't know if I've told this before; I LOVE macchiatos. To death. I smiled at the macchiato waiting for me in the refrigerator, untouched, cold and tasty.
My mood changed in matter of seconds. People can have a big influence on you.
Yet I don't know anyone who can make me switch so fast. Mostly when I'm moody, I rather chop off someone's head (don't get me wrong, I'm NEVER moody, but if I am I'm horrible). I then lock myself in my room and go 'LEAVE ME ALONE -_-!'
Hi Dani, if you haven't noticed, this blog's about you. It's becoming surprisingly long, seeing as I didn't even know where to start at first. But I'm not done, not even half.
She's my sister, to many people my 'twin'. Do I look fifteen to you?
But she's like, gay.
In a good way.
I wouldn't want my sister to be...not-gay and not-stupid and not-dorky.
If Dani was a guy, I'd marry her. ...And if she wasn't my brother, of course.
Why? Because Dani and I are true love (I'm sorry, cheesyness slips through my fingers!).
Dani, I love you. And do you know why?
Because I can call you a bitch, motherfucker, stupid, idiot and a whore and you accept it and laugh.
Because you reply me with a bitchslap that usually hurts.
Because you buy me energy drinks and macchiatos all the friggin' time without having to ask me if I even want one.
Because everytime I try to explain you math, we both end up NOT knowing what we're talking about...And I always tell you to write down 'ask the teacher tomorrow', which you never do, so you come back a few days later with the same darn question.
Because everytime I come home, I shout 'FAKA DAN CHIMI' and you reply me singing obnoxiously.
Because when we go to a concert, you're the only one that wants to talk to weird looking ladies with teeth missing, asking me for money, wanting to use my nailpolish and I give them some grapes instead.
Because you're the only one that wants to run with me outside and try to 'tap' our feet together in the air...while half of the neighbourhood is watching.
Because everytime I come to you complaining about something retarded, you reply 'oh my god, suck it up, it's not a fucking big deal'...you keep me sane.
Because I can watch movies latelate at night. Because you always throw things at me whenever the movie just started and I'm already snoring and deep asleep.
How about...
Fort Myers. Hanging out on the beach at 2 in the morning, getting EATEN by mosquitos, but refusing to go inside because we want to watch ten shooting stars AT LEAST.
Making shamefully stupid videos and pictures with the most ugly faces we've ever seen and laughing our asses off at ourselves doing it. Being totally embarrassed and surprised by our capability to make SUCH fools of ourselves on cam?
That's not even HALF. What have we NOT done together?
We even pooped together when we were like 5 years old.
What about being tiny little kids and showering together, then meassuring the distance between my belly button and yours?
Going to concerts and making a fool of Ne-Yo.
Understanding exactly what we're saying, even if we haven't finished our sentence.
Understanding exactly what we're saying, just by making some weird sound effect (damn, we're good at that).
Playing barbies. Oh my God, the barbies...
You'd hit me when I wouldn't play anymore, so hard, that I got scared so I'd play anyway. Then five minutes later you'll be sick of it and you'd demand me to clean it up (hahaha you were such a pain in the ass).
Oh not to forget...Annoying me every single morning before school. Me being stressed out because we had to be at school in 5 minutes, Dani still in her pyjamas going down the stairs sloooowly, saying 'ñaña, look! I'm a tuuuuuurtle!'
Shopping together, then after half an hour being sick of it and ending up in a McDonald's, Mockamore or KFC. We're such men...
Calling you a filthy emo. Calling me a 'waaaallah'. Then calling me a bitch.
What about me telling you the big thing with butter was ICE CREAM? And you'd just eat it.
Dancing to friggin' Shakira and Spice Girls. Ten years later, dancing on talent shows.
Having too-damn-deep unnecessary conversations. But afterwards, we're like 'DUDE I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking like that'
Laughing about...nooooothing whatsoever.
What about when you were a baby? I'd love to 'take care of you' and I'd put kilo's of baby powder on your tummy and rub it all over. You'd laugh and cough to death, because of all the smoke-ish powder-ish stuff. Or me laughing at you everytime you tasted something horrible, because your nosetrils would go wide open but you'd say 'mmmm tasty' anyway. Or how everytime you'd put on a bathing suit, one buttcheek would pop out, because...Dude, your butt was huge when you were three years old.
Dressing you up and trying to put on similar clothes. I have no idea why I did that.
You following me alllll over the place. Me thinking that was completely normal and something so obvious and natural to do. Because in a way you're part of me.
Without you would be like, missing a leg...Or an arm.
You're the cheese on my pizza, man.
The peanut butter on my PJ-sandwich, man.
The weiner on my hotdog.
The ketchup on my...EVERYTHING, seeing as I eat everything with ketchup.
And not having you would be like...Walking outside with one shoe, feeling totally unsatisfied because you don't have two shoes, no, you have one.
(What is it with me and missing shoes?)
Life without you would be like...Getting Ben&Jerry's for free! Then taking the top off to realize there's only one bite left.
I'd give my kidney for you.
And if you wouldn't need it, I'd just if you asked for it, even if it's just for some weird decoration in your room, if it would truely make you happy.
I was there when you spoke your first words, when you wrote your first letters (ugly as hell), when you walked your first steps (although I can't remember), when you fed the dog my grandmother's glasses and when you hid every single key of the house in your little car. When you drew your first naked people laying on a bed when you were four years old. And I'll always have your back, just like when I drew clothes on your drawings so my mommy wouldn't find out you were perverted. I didn't want you to get in trouble.
Because that's what big sisters do, right? At least I do.
And I'll be there when you get totally drunk on your first party and vomit all over Krek's car (>.>...). I'll hold your hair to your back so you can vomit into the toilet without having to worry about a thing. Dude, I'll clean up the mess afterwards...But obviously, first I'll be the one to tell you 'DON'T DRINK ANY ALCOHOL'. And I'll be there when you have your first kiss, first boyfriend...First heartbreak and your first 'I hate him so much! How could he?!'...I'll be there when you want to take revenge and hit the motherfucker. Dude, I'll even HOLD his arms for you so you can beat the crap out of him. I'll be there when you graduate, get married, have kids. I'll babysit them for you.
Honestly, you've always been there for me too. So many things you've done without even KNOWING it.
And so, so much more, dude.
I love you, ñañita.
<33333
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