No more of that please.

Ugh. Too much alcohol. I only drink on weekends. But when I do I get FUCKED UP. I apologize to my mom for saying those offensive words. Not to mention I apologize for not listening to her when she said alcohol is bad for you, she is so right and so wrong.
I don't throw up when I am drunk. I throw up three days later. Or never for that matter, unless I am drinking whiskey then I puke profusely and have to go to the hospital, true story bro. I took a shot, which was stupid, of Everclear. If you don't know about how awful Everclear is then you are a smart human being. Everclear is basically 100% pure alcohol. Well not even basically, it is one hundred percent alcohol. I am getting nausiated thinking about it. The first time I drank it...well I don't remember most of that night. Might I add I drank an entire bottle to myself. Yeah that could kill you BUT I HAVE SURVIVED! I also ended up throwing up on my boyfriend at the time, its ok he is a dick.
Anyways, I took this said shot of everclear. I don't remember most of the night but I do remember winning a fight against a guy. I am quite proud of this actually. I am a pretty whimpy human being. But I didn't get my ass beat OR throw up :) good accomplishment for me if I do say so myself.
I know have an obligation to go and drink more. I really don't want to, but its my best friend's birthday and I told her I would. This may or may not be my last blog, because I might be dead tomorrow. If I am then I will say this: I love you all. The End.

ARE YOU YELLING IN YOUR BRAIN?!

So I am talking to my friend Schmall on Facebook. We have never met IRL (in real life to the lame folks out there) but we talk on the interwebs on like a daily basis, don't worry we have mutual friends that really exist. But so I am talking to him and suddenly I just start typing random word in all caps. One statement was "AND IT WILL BE MY BUM!" Then it hit me, I am constantly shouting in my head. Not only in my head, I shout on a regular basis. In fact, I have made up spelling for some of the sounds that come out of my mouth. They are all retarded. I mean that in the best way possible. The sounds I make are kind of like a deaf person talking combined with someone who has down syndrome, so its more like half retarded-half deaf.
If you really find it hard to believe, read like my first few blogs. They are mostly just shouts and sounds, put together to make a half-assed story that might either be in Farsi or English, its hard to tell. But it usually ends up sounding more like Farsi. What's weird is that I haven't shouted once in this blog. I HAVE FAILED MYSELF! There we go. I feel much more relaxed now. Its kind of like Tourette's but without the mental disability, and more awesome.

I'm moving.....AGAIN.

I am a single girl, who likes a boy, but sleeps in the same bed as her ex boyfriend, because I am homeless otherwise. We were dating, then we broke up, I had nowhere else to go so he let me stay with him. Nice guy, kinda....

So I get home on Sunday night, feeling awful. I was feeling so sick and tired that I just went straight to bed. I give props to Skyler to making it all the way to my house from Provo, which is 20 minutes away, and back home a half hour away from Provo, he is such a trooper, I kind of am idolizing him for it in fact. But I get home go to bed and stay home on Monday. Landon, the ex, comes home from hell knows what and asks me if I have found a place to live. I say yes but not until October. He then tells me I have until Friday to get all of my shit, from this house in Orem, and the other house in Spanish Fork, and myself out. Yeah....I had 3 days. Did I mention he found this out in the morning, and didn't tell me until oh, 10 p.m.?! Oh. Your. God. I was/am still pissed. Like really? As much as he wants me out, and as much as he was protecting my feelings, don't you think it would be, ya know, nice enough to tell me when I had FOUR days instead of 3?! Jesus probably hates him know because of that. *Landon I think might be gay for Jesus, just FYI. Like its bad. I get lectured about how I should love Jesus occasionally.

Luckily, I have this great friend named Alex, who is letting me live in his room with him. About 30 minutes after I heard the news I told him and he suggested that so I seized that window, obviously. I'm not retarded enough to be homeless. Funny thing is, I may have to share his bed....yeah....Another one of those awkward situations I get myself into.

I can honestly say I love my life and the crazy ass shit I put myself through. Like really, how many people do you know that sleep in the same bed as their ex? Yeah no one. You know why? Because they are ex's. These are my thoughts: "Brooke, you should sleep on the couch. Landon isn't your boyfriend anymore. And definitely DO NOT try and have sex with him!" "But Brooke, the couch is stupid and uncomfortable. And Landon is warm. Plus we have already had sex so what problem is it for one more pity sexytime?" "A lot of things. You need more morals."

I need to listen to my brain WAY more often.

No sleep til London.

To see Rou and his splendid spread. No bahhahahahaha not really. But really. But not really.
Attention ALL readers:
I have gotten no sleep, and I was drinking. End of story. This blog is about why I didn't feel like P. Diddy.


Once upon a time there was a me, or as Heidi just said a you. Me decided to go out on the town, which means drink in a house with several other underaged drinkers and a few legals. There was also this boy, the one that burned me with his cigarette, and he wanted to hang out with me. We went to Heidi's, he didn't drink and I did...a lot. Luckily I just played Mario with him and we cuddled. Then we went back to the sleeping place and made out for a little bit. Then Heidi walked in to the kitchen in her undies, and we stopped and he passed out and I tried and failed miserably at trying to sleep.

I am so sleepy! Sleepy sleep sleep!

AND I AM BACK!!!!

Fluoxitine. Yeah if you know what that is that means you are probably full of anxiety and woes, which in return means you're probably a great artist of some sort. To the rest of the world its prozac. Prozac is my antidepressant that I should be taking everyday. Guess what I haven't been doing?! Yeah. Its been about a week since I took them, turns out they actually do something.

Ok so now that I have explained that I will tell you when I don't take them I am quite similar to the late 19th century tale of like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but not in a giant scary "I am going to kill you and your 60 children" sort of a way. Its more like I turn into a 14 year old girl who is worried about fitting in at school, and yet oddly enough I was never like that when I was 14; In any case it is still strange. (Heh heh, get it!) I have decided my alter ego's name is Ekoorb (E-korb).When Brooke is stupid and doesn't take her happy pills like she should Ekoorb pops out her ugly, adolescent head. Ekoorb isn't so bad, just misunderstood. She likes to do all the same things I do. The only problem is she worries about the opposite sex. A LOT! To the point where she deleted a blog because she was afraid it was too off putting, and thought she'll never be able to date again if she wears her heart on her sleeve! Oh no what will the other kids at school say if they found out I like him! Aye! Estoy perdido!! Puta madre!! Some thoughts were even in Spanish.

If anyone doesn't know me, you should know this now, I haven't had a problem with telling boys I like them since about 5th grade, maybe 7th at most. I really don't care. I usually end up making the first move anyways because I don't care if I get rejected. If I do, its sad for a few days, I might cry and feel like a bearded witch but after that I usually end up trying again or finding someone new. Not a big deal.



I was fine today up until 10ish when Ekoorb was starting to convince me that Brooke has no friends and sucks really bad and probably smells like poop 85% of the time, but when she started talking about all that poop stuff Brooke just laughed, because poop is freaking hilarious, and invited a long lost friend Fluoxitine to come and keep Ekoorb at bay away from all the testosterone and puberty.

Ekoorb is a bitch

I also think that I was letting Ekoorb take control, thus my horrendous week of writers block. Thank the heavens, not just for 7/11, but for pharmaceutical drugs that keep our inner junior high student safe and sound our chemically unbalanced brain. Away from all the reality of how bad the whole homo saipen mating ritual really is, oh and just life in general.

I still have this problem

The problem: Writer's block. The other problem: Not being able to flirt.

Writer's block is something I have never experienced in my life before the last few days. Secretly I am hilarious, and I can always think of something to say as long as it is not about asking to borrow a car. That was my problem today HARDCORE. But that has nothing to do with the fact that I HAVE NOTHING INTERESTING TO WRITE ABOUT!! Currently I am watching a musical, talking to one of my oldest friends, and facebooking. I have moved about a quarter inch ALL today. All I need to do is just relax and think about how awesome and funny life is, but honestly, I am far too freaking bored.

    Oh and I think my mom is reading my blog thus is why I haven't included the "F" word anywhere in this blog. It was a hilarious facebook message from my mother actually, she told me to stop being a shit mouth. So I am listening to my mom.


Flirting. It just is not a strong point in my life. I am really awkward in bad at it! Though my dear friend Peter has helped me conquer some of that hurdle.

Anyways, I am bored. I am going to go outside and smoke and watch Archer. Good night, and good luck!

And then I had writer's block.

Comments. I need you to leave me a comment on what I should write about. I may pick only one but I may pick more than one.