We Made A Cake Today.

The intention was to make a bunch of cupcakes with layers of red, yellow, and blue.

But that didn't end up happening.

We ended up making a marble cake.

But not just any marble cake.

This marble cake had practically every colour of the rainbow in it, was covered in grass green icing, and topped with sprinkles and Lucky Charms marchmallows.

Now, now. I know you're jealous and all, but you have to stop drooling that way, it's terribly unbecoming. See, I'd let you have a slice but really I don't think you're worthy of this beast cake to be quite honest. You can try to imitate it as much as you want but you will never attain this level of spectacularness... (No, it's not a word, don't judge.)

It all started when E posted for the 20th time on her blog and decided that this was reason to celebrate--who's going to argue with her?--so we baked a cake and put sparklers on it. It was all too exciting really.

Now for my 20th blog post, what should I do?

Hmm...

Hmmmmmmm.

Ideas?

You get back to me with those.

Ps. I'm turning seventeen tomorrow, holy shit. I don't want to grow up.

"It's like Shrek and Lucky the Leprechaun had a baby and it came out as a cake"

Oh, Hispanic Women.

I need to go off on a tangent about last night, ready? Okay.

It was my uncles birthday, so I was over at his house with my family to celebrate it. Since it was the last day of school, my cousin and I had decided that we'd go to this party after cake and stuff since it was less than a minute away from her house.

We get ready, sing Happy Birthday and then start getting our things to go. We'd already gotten permission from our parents and my uncle was going to drive us.

Everything was cool.

Until my aunt got in the car with us.

And she's in her sweatpants, a tank top, and a big bun on her head. My cousin and I look at each other, knowing that this could not end well...

Cousin, "Dad's just gonna drive us there, you don't have to come..."

Aunt, "I'm coming. I'm going to make sure that there is supervision and that there are no drugs and alcohol."

Cousin, "No you're not. You're not getting out there."

Uncle, "Don't worry, I'll talk to the parents, you don't have to come." (He was just trying to make her happy but wasn't going to even get out of the car.)

Cousin, "Yeah, see? Dad will talk to them."

Aunt, "Well why can't I go?! See, there's probably no supervision, you're hiding something!"

*We start driving*

Cousin, "You're not gonna go in and start looking around at everyone like my grandma!"

Aunt, "Are you embarrassed of me?! I know I don't look nice but you can't be embarrassed of me! What's the big deal?! I'm just going to talk to the parents!"

Cousin, "I DON'T EVEN WANT TO GO ANYMORE THEN. LET'S GO HOME!"

Aunt, "That's just sad if you don't want to enjoy a party just because you're embarrassed of me!"

Cousin, "Whatever, whatever, we'll just go home!"

Aunt, *Points at my uncle* "I don't trust you anymore! Obviously there are no parents there if you won't let me go talk to them!"

This went on for a while... And in case you were wondering, yes, my aunt does have a thick Spanish accent. So yes, I was trying to not laugh the entire time this argument went on.

Is There A Science Behind Missing An Earthquake?

Hello day.

Hello you. Glorious, glorious day, you.

Last dayofschoolandexams day glorious you.

I'm so happy, that you have made it here before I lost my fucking mind.

And let me tell you how close I was to losing said fucking mind.

I was THIS close. || <--

School is officially over. I have passed grade 11, I'm going to be in grade 12 next year, hot damn!

That's 75% finished high school.

Three quarters.

0.75 of 1 entire high school experience. (And not a good one)

I (believe I) passed all of my exams, except for maybe art but that's a different story that we will not discuss since it is unimportant.

Now what did I do today you ask?

Well. If you are just dyyyyying to know, then I guess I can tell you.

Tell us, tell us, pleaseee.

Alright! Don't puke excitement all over my shoes please, that's disgusting.

Today I wrote my last exam: English. Then I went home, put on my pajamas and thought to myself,

Self, Erica is probably going to call you very soon

And she did, because she's sweet like that. So I organized my room a little bit (I still can't say it's clean) and E (Not liking the nicknames, and you really do belong in a rave!) came over. We went out for food and then went to Shoppers where we met up with Christopher. It was still hot and sunny out so we went swimmin' in ma poool (H).

We weren't swimming for long when both my brother and mother run out to the backyard in distress.

Me, "What is it?"

Mother, "Oh my God, I can't even speak!"

Brother, "There was an earthquake!"

Me, lolwut? "True.."

So yeah, we missed the frikken earthquake because we were in the pool. All I can say is

-____________-

That. And: There better be a frikken aftershock.

So after the earthquake and stuff, M and S joined us (They too were in a panic over this earthquake) and they swam with us. It was a good time, we had fun.

Tell us more, tell us more!

More? Maybe you need a life... But if you insist!

So after going on Chatroulette and having a less than pleasant experience, M and S made their way home, while E and I picked a fight with some grade nines. I'll post that conversation later.

Now I'm off to get ready, it's my uncles birthday and my cousin and I are going to an end of school event after that.

Quote of the day:

"Ale, there's a pine cone at the bottom of your pool."-S.

Hey, Disaster Girl.

I love little girls who lie about what they've been through, post pictures of their "cuts", and try so hard to be someone else.

I absolutely love them.

Oreo?

I'm not the biggest fan of the cookies-and-cream treat. But I found this profoundly amusing. I wonder if anyone ended up eating that...

Have You Met The Imms?

Now, if you want to get to know me, you have to know the immigrants. First off, the immigrants are my parents and all of their closest friends.Now picture 20 something Venezuelan FOBs. They're all my parents' friends. They're all loud, crazy, and chubby. And they basically never shut up.

Every friday night, the guys will come to my house, and play poker in my basement. (Sometimes they play ping pong if they're feeling extra competitive.)
These men are so enthusiastic about their poker game. Its a big deal to them! They even went ahead, bought all these materials and
Built.
Their.
Own.
Table.

So now they have this table (And its better built than the basement itself I swear) and they are able to trade bills with each other because honestly, no one ever wins.

On some nights--if they're feeling particularly daring and rebellious--they will introduce a hookah in the mix and take turns playing the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.

Now the women. The women are your typical gossipy ladies. On Friday nights--while the men are acting like children--they will sit in my kitchen, figure out who's MIA for the night, and as soon as they do, well you should feel bad for that person because with the amount of shit those women talk they could probably set up a small shop and sell fertilizer in every colour!

They call themselves "Las Aranas" The Spiders. This is because they used to knit once upon a time and "knitting" together is still their excuse to congregate...
Now I'm not calling them liars, because they do knit every once in a while; they knit blankets for babies when one of them is pregnant. And there is always at least one pregnant woman in the group, but how often do they knit? Hardly ever.

You have never seen a community of people more attached at the hip than this one.

The immigrants go camping.
The immigrants go shopping.
The immigrants go clubbing.
The immigrants swim together.
Barbecue together.
Dance together.
Eat together.
Play together.
Laugh together.
Cry together.
And today, they're watching soccer together.

They broke the couch when Spain scored.

Bieba' Feva'

So I've been thinking about some things lately...
Embarrassing things.
People say it's natural to think about these things but...
I can't stop thinking about Justin Bieber's songs.

Now I know, I know.
I fucking know. Shut up.
He sounds like a 10 year old girl.
But I think his lyrics are cute and I mean, I need somebody to love too! And he has cute hair that looks soft and if he's willing to buy me cute things then I'd happily give him someone to love.
And that someone would be me. ;)
Plus, like Dancer Slut says,

He doesn't wear a purity ring, so I could fuck him!

Come on now, don't hate guys, you're radiating waves of animosity!
Not. Cool.
So yeah, I'll get off my soap box now... Actually, no. I will not get get off my soap box. I'm gonna paint it pink and find a megaphone.
Justin Bieber roxmysox.
Shit man, when was the last time anyone used that saying..?

Biker Chicks.

I mean we are.
In a sense.
We are biker chicks in a sense.
Despite the fact that we wear bright colours that would make an 80's workout video jealous and that our bikes--or bicycles rather--lack motors, we are still biker chicks in a sense.
Right?
And, yeah we're totally a gang. I mean, we ride our bikes in intimidating lines down streets (empty streets, but that's besides the point).

It's day one of exams. I feel like they're already over, seeing as I don't have one tomorrow. Or the day after. And does anyone really take comm tech exams or art exams seriously? Hardly.

So anyways, what were the names? Dancer Slut, Cheer Whore, and... Love, you need a name, how about... Hot Air? We'll work on it. We went to Tim Hortons--Missioned to Tim Hortons--On our bicycles. In our intimidating line some parts of the way.

We got there, the place was packed, we got weird looks for not being in French uniforms, we ate, we got hit on by some random guys who looked at us like we were the freaking pictures on the menu, and then we got ice caps. And one Timbit. ;)
And then Hot Air decided to go through the drive through on her "vehicle". The Tim Hortons lady didn't find it very amusing, but the Wendy's lady did. And Hot Air got herself a juicebox which she ingested while we all sat on a plot of grass.

Everything was happy and well for a few minutes on this plot of grass, that is until thedemonspiderfromhell came and raped me. It was not a good experience especially considering the magnitude of my arachnophobia, not to mention that the spider was the size of an Ox.

On the way back to Dancer Slut's house, Cheer Whore was assaulted by the seat of her bicycle and was unable to finish the trek with us. Which is only a polite way of saying that she ditched us for a while. But that's alright, because we made the most of our time by jumping on a particularly bouncy trampoline and wetting ourselves. With hoses, all though some others did wet themselves in other ways...

All in all it was a fun--and unproductive--afternoon.
You wish you had been there.