What fresh hell is this?

Yes, I did just use a quote from The Big Bang Theory as the title of this blog post.

So, I wrote a really long post last night about my screwed up family. Which I am sure Caroline will love. But now I really have something extra annoying to post. Ready for the bitchiness? Ohhh good.

Well, this girl Mariah sent me a text message last night. This is how our conversation went.


Mariah: heey guess what??

Yours Truly: what?

M: i have a bf

YT: oh what fresh hell is this?


So that brings us to the namesake of this blog. The fact that I am actually worried that this entire situation will end up causing me mental anguish. This is because I will have to fix her screwy life when this semi-fictional spiral of distastefulness unravels.

I am going to try to be a normal, healthy person and try to just sit on the sidelines as these two people [Chris and Mariah], who are both completely emotionally immature and unable to have a normal relationship, whether friendship or otherwise, with another human being, attempt to interact with each other in a romantic type relationship. Oh dear... This experiment will be further referred to, throughout this blog, as the Chris/Mariah Effect.

This experiment will address Chris and Mariah's relationship and, probably, its downward spiral, and, consequently, my irritation and my overwhelming unavoidable urge to interfere, over-analyze, and attempt to fix the issues.

So, Julia tells me that I'm "such a weird person" because I "can't just be happy for her". Well, Julia, I am happy for her now. Mostly because today, I received another test message from Mariah saying this...

M: did you tell matt?
[Matt is her older brother. He's my age and is very good at retrieving information from unsuspecting sources]
YT: tell matt what?
M: about me and chris ;p
YT: no...do you want me to?
M: NOO!!

So anyway, the conversation dragged on dismally until I asked her if her and Chris had gone out on an actual date. Her response? "No, we broke up." *head spinning/mental pain* Whaaaaat? Yes.
I ask her how long they were going out. The answer? "59 minutes."

I then had to explain to the idiotic thirteen year old that going out for 59 minutes and not seeing the other person in those 59 minutes does not mean that you and that person are "bf/gf likeee tots". Yeaaaaahh...no. Just stop. You're 13. You need to be 13. Stop fabricating relationships.

Well my brain feels better now that I know that nothing happened between the two 13 year old's who probably have a combined IQ of 100.

I have other thirteen year old's dreams to shatter, and I also have to pack. Back home tomorrow. :'( I'm going to miss it here.

Good night Internet.

Books Read This Year: 5

Prepare to Learn Something New

I am a stress cleaner. Yes. When I am stressed or tired or sick, I clean. And not just "remove pile of dirt from the floor that the dog dragged in on his leash" cleaning. I scrub surfaces. I fluff and perfectly place pillows. Innocent blankets are folded, freshened, over-arranged. Floors washed and rewashed. Counters organized. It's a sickness really. A helpful sickness but a sickness.

Well today my mother and my aunt went out shopping searching for new work clothes. They left at about noon and when to Kohl's. Before they left, I told my mom to call us later so we can all go out for dinner at Ryan's or something. She says "fine", they leave, and I am left with a bouncy three year old. Now, don't get me wrong, I love this child more than anything in the world. But I would like to be in contact with some sort of parental unit from time to time. At around 5 pm, the two fifty-going-on-fifteen-year-olds called and said that they were going to Ulta and would be home in "about an hour." After my cousin (not the three year old; the three year old's mother.) got off the phone, I asked her if they mentioned Ryan's. She said no, so I texted my aunt and there was no response. Called my mother: went straight to voicemail.

So then I took Gabriella (the three year old) out to play ball and that ate up some time. Then, by six o'clock, we were all starting to get worried. We kept calling them and my aunts phone just rang until voicemail. My mom's was obviously off. This kept up until 8. In this two hour time period, we had called Ulta (the woman was confused and suspicious until I said that they both had dementia and were off their medication), both of the movie theaters in the area, and the hair salon. At 8, they called me and said that they hadn't gone to Ulta, they'd been "at Kohl's the whole time." And now they were "going shoe shopping" and they'd be home "in an hour or so."

Well it's 9:30 and they still aren't home. My mother called me about 10 minutes ago and my aunt called my cousin. They were in the same car, having the same conversation, on different phones with different people. Who are in the same room. There are so so many ways to simplify that entire situation, but I'm not even gonna go into those.

So bam. You just learned something knew about the complex, confusing entity that is Theresa Kelley. Congratulations.

My name is Theresa Kelley and I am a stress cleaner.
Good night Internet. I have to go eat some Chik-Fil-A.

Well, This is Awkward...

Oh...humans.

As much as I would just LOVE to believe that we are all little puppets living our pre-determined lives, we aren't.
People (well, most people) have logic and freewill. That means that we can never really accurately predict what another human being will do. This is especially true when it comes to members of the opposite sex. In my case, boys.

Since girls tend to crowd  up with other girls and talk, and boys tend to gather up with other boys and...well, grunt, humans overall tend to have a better understanding of the same sex. So, I'm pretty sure every girl (maybe not Caroline.) will agree with me when I say that boys are pretty much impossible to predict.

Well. Okay. This is where it just gets weird.
My best friend likes a guy who is basically, drop dead gorgeous. She's totally crazy about him. Great, right? Not great. Now, I do not like this guy. How bout we call him Peeta, like from the Hunger Games? Well, we were all together last night because me and Julia were having a sleep over so we went out with Peeta and Ryan. Anyway. We made Ryan buy us some food then we walked down to the beach. We sat against the wall and it was freezing. So...Peeta put his arm around me and I put my head on his chest. I honestly don't know why. He was warm.

After a while, we all got up and started walking somewhere else because this girl Samantha came along and we were not in the mood to deal with her drunkenness. Peeta gave her a cookie. We walked one street up up and Peeta kept holding my hand or putting his arm around me when we walked towards Ryan's house. Then my phone went off with a text from Julia's mom. It said we had 10 minutes so we should start heading home. Peeta and Ryan walked us home but Ryan kept being really annoying so Peeta grabbed my hand and started running.

When we had a block between us and Julia and Ryan, we stopped running. When we got to Julia's house, he had to wait outside because his mom was on her way and people aren't allowed in Julia's house. So, I sat on his lap with my head on his shoulder until his mom texted me saying she was a block away and then we sat on the stair with Julia and Ryan waiting for her.

I honestly don't like Peeta, but Julia keeps saying that he definitely likes me because he kept touching me, and hugging me all night. This is so bad.

Okay, Internet. I have WHAP homework, and a headache. Wish me luck.

Dear Boys,

Thank you so much for the inspiration.

Through what I can only assume is the combined effort of your entire gender, you have inspired many songs that I have written over the past 3 or 4 years.

Yes. Don't think that just because you haven't heard them, that they don't exist. Oohhh, if you believe that, you are so wrong my friend. So wrong.
You probably have heard them, actually.

Yes. Those songs I was playing on my porch for the last two summers, those were about you.

Yes. All the havoc you've reeked on my friendships. All the times you've made me or my friends cry, it's made it into a song of some sort.

Even if I haven't finished it. Even if it's probably stowed at the bottom of a drawer in my bedroom, it's there. And if in a few months, a few seasons, a few summers, you decide to pop back into my head, oh you can bet that I will dig that crumpled sheet of looseleaf at the bottom of the drawer if it's the last thing that I do. I will find it and I will finish it.

Be warned.

Stay out of my mind. And you all probably have at least two songs a piece at this point. Be prepared for more. Because there are always more to come.

Again, thanks for some of my best material. You just can't make this stuff up, even if you are as creative as me.

Sincerely ( and warningly),
Theresa

Over the Age of 30 = Chastity

Okay. It may not be my place to judge on this subject. Due to the fact that I am 14 years old, and a virgin. But, I have parents, both of whom are over the age of 30, and I also have an opinion. So here we go.

Parents. If you are over the age of 30. And you have children. Who are either old enough to know what you're doing or smart enough not to believe you when you say "We're just dancing, go back to bed" you should not be "getting it on" with you husband/wife when your children are home. Or when you are home. Save these things for romantic weekends away. Or vacations when you can pawn your kids off on some overly peppy guy from a third world country who runs the kids' club on the cruise ship. Not when you son/daughter is in the next room.

So. What spawned this indignant argument, you ask?
Well, I was talking to my friend and we somehow...I will never know how or why...got onto this subject and she sent me the following message:
"i have heard them... you know
i have heard them make out, then i would hear the doorlock"

Parents! I never want to have someone say this again! That is just...just wrong. No. Just no.

Unless you have the purpose in mind of creating children..Just don't. Please. For your children's sake. And their friends. Don't.

Oh! And the people of the internet because they had to read this.

Super Bowl Plans!

lol at the title...

Just kidding! I'm a loser so I'm staying home. Here is the itinerary for tonight:


Homework, then Dinosaur Chicken Nuggets with Chocolate Milk, then some bakery cookies, maybe watch my puppy or kitten sleep a little, talk to Caroline and/or Julia, and then go to sleep.

But, I'm wild child so I might divert from this plan a little bit...maybe break it up with some watching and listening to the Casey's scream...whatever. It'll will be epic.

Now, I'm not saying that if you are watching the game, you're an idiot imbecile. Basically, I'm saying that don't like football. I'll be happy if the Giants win, of course, because I'm from NY (no. not the city) and I'm not in the mood to be ostracized and hated by an entire state.

So yeah, Go Giants! And also, Go Bakery Cookies!

Mental Anguish

Sometimes, my brain hurts.

Yes. My brain. It hurts. Which is technically impossible for the brain to hurt since it sends the signal to other body parts to feel pain...but still.

Okay, so over the past week or so, I've attempted to update about 10 times. Each time saving it as a draft because I know that I can't fully develop the idea in a literary form. So I've come to the following conclusion: I have to start making vloggy-type videos on YouTube. It's only fair. I have to get these ideas out of my brain or it will explode.

Also, my friend is currently going through some drama with a boy who, since I just finished the Hunger Games, is named Peeta. It's actually hysterical and awkward. And I've written a song about it... so if you wanna know more about Julia's screwed up love life click the link below:

julia's screwed up love life

That. ^ That thing above is a link. A link to my friend Caroline's blog that has full detail about Julia and Peeta's issues.

SO CLICK IT!!!

My brain hurts less. And I'm tired. And delirious.

Goodnight, internet.