I am such a busy bee! Every day is spent running across school with a five pound backpack upon my shoulders. It's also treacherous considering I have about a million friends and likewise people who want to talk to me. Thus, passing period can sometimes be a dangerous trek, an ongoing journey that is only broken through lunch and snack time.
Further more, I don't particularly enjoy having my "parent/ guardian" sign about a million things that should have been taken care of at the beginning of the year. I am sorry if I miss a few days here, it's just because of how DAMN BUSY I AM.... sorry.
Au revoir!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
BUSTED
Hi everyone. Today I shall talk about something I'm sure we've all experienced-- being what the children of modern times refer to as...
BUSTED
Yes, there are many ways to be BUSTED:
at the park:
On the bus:
Or perhaps on a small dingy which is hauling a kayak at fifteen miles per hour across a channel.
Like when I was BUSTED.
It all began just 24 hours ago. We had cleverly attached a two-man (or girl) kayak to a motorized dingy. We packed food into the dingy and laid down many a towel upon the bottoms of both marine vehicles for comfort. Then, a few Girl Scouts and yours truly clambered into the vessels and set a course for looking awesome.
But that was before we were...
BUSTED.
Let me tell you, sailing out smoothly over open water, kicked back on a fluffy pink towel in the back of a six person crewed floatie, watching the waves whisk by and letting the mist feather your face could have been heaven, where I inexplicably died and flew happily through time and space to reach this moment.
But then I wouldn't be writing this would I?
Unless...
I'M A GHOOOOOOSSSSST! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Naw, just kidding. OOOOR AAAAAAAMMMMMM I?????????
Anyway, things were just... PEACHY! Until the blaring of a siren rudely intruded my relaxed eardrums. But perhaps it was dream; an unexplained, completely unethical, indescribable DREAM. I mean, who has water police, anyway?
Apparently Westlake does.
So I turn my head around, unawares of the boat with police lights on its roof. How conventional.
The guy tells us it's illegal to tow a kayak in these waters. He makes us untie the knot attacking our little vessel to the other, then tells us to starts paddling back. We look for our oars, only to find that they have been removed, stored away back at the dock. So the guy tells my homies in the dingy to start the engine while we clamber on board the Patrol boat. They start recklessly pulling at the handle thingy that starts the motor, but fruitlessly. Oh, the irony. So they start rowing their emergency paddles, and one adult in the boat starts holding out the choke until finally it purrs triumphantly. They speed away from the site, while my friend Priya and I begin chortling uncontrollably. The Patrol dude reassures us that we're not in trouble, and we spend the rest of the journey home reading off the names of boats we see in the harbor in different voices to pass the time.
So, here's a picture of the dynamic duo...
BUSTED!
BUSTED
Yes, there are many ways to be BUSTED:
at the park:
Like when I was BUSTED.
It all began just 24 hours ago. We had cleverly attached a two-man (or girl) kayak to a motorized dingy. We packed food into the dingy and laid down many a towel upon the bottoms of both marine vehicles for comfort. Then, a few Girl Scouts and yours truly clambered into the vessels and set a course for looking awesome.
But that was before we were...
BUSTED.
Let me tell you, sailing out smoothly over open water, kicked back on a fluffy pink towel in the back of a six person crewed floatie, watching the waves whisk by and letting the mist feather your face could have been heaven, where I inexplicably died and flew happily through time and space to reach this moment.
But then I wouldn't be writing this would I?
Unless...
I'M A GHOOOOOOSSSSST! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Naw, just kidding. OOOOR AAAAAAAMMMMMM I?????????
Anyway, things were just... PEACHY! Until the blaring of a siren rudely intruded my relaxed eardrums. But perhaps it was dream; an unexplained, completely unethical, indescribable DREAM. I mean, who has water police, anyway?
Apparently Westlake does.
So I turn my head around, unawares of the boat with police lights on its roof. How conventional.
The guy tells us it's illegal to tow a kayak in these waters. He makes us untie the knot attacking our little vessel to the other, then tells us to starts paddling back. We look for our oars, only to find that they have been removed, stored away back at the dock. So the guy tells my homies in the dingy to start the engine while we clamber on board the Patrol boat. They start recklessly pulling at the handle thingy that starts the motor, but fruitlessly. Oh, the irony. So they start rowing their emergency paddles, and one adult in the boat starts holding out the choke until finally it purrs triumphantly. They speed away from the site, while my friend Priya and I begin chortling uncontrollably. The Patrol dude reassures us that we're not in trouble, and we spend the rest of the journey home reading off the names of boats we see in the harbor in different voices to pass the time.
So, here's a picture of the dynamic duo...
BUSTED!
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