Lizards and Coins

So, if many of you know me, I used to live in Thailand. I was a little child back then (Mentally I still am, but shh, nobody needs to know..just kidding, my insanity is on the inter-webs for everyone to see, so yes.)

Today I am going to talk about a really sensitive subject between me and my family, it's gonna be hard.
Still here? Just kidding it's not sensitive at all. Just some good 'Ol false adverstising. Okay, shut up Monique.

When I was in Thailand, I lived in a house with a crap-ton of wildlife. Feel like getting a cup of coffee? BAM. Frickin' snake in your living room. And we had a lady who came to tend the gardens, dunno why, I mean, there could be a rare radioactive Pokemon in the bushes waiting to kill you. We had a calm little pond with a bunch of nice 'ol fishies. Until one day we saw fishies dissapear. For some reason they were all migrating, and they didn't even pay the darn rent..
So every day we saw less fishies swimming, until one day, the culprit laid it's scaly, ugly self upon our eyes.
(Now you're probably thinking - Monique, that's not a very nice thing to say about a person.) Plot twist. It was a big freaking Monitor lizard just sitting in our yard! A Big. Freaking. Monitor. Lizard.

"Y'know, just chilling, don't mind me, but I rate your snack bar five stars!"
Now wait, it gets better. The lady who tended the yards came rushing in yelling:
"Wait! Wait! Take this coin! Take the coin and scratch it on the lizard's back! It'll then show you the winning numbers for the lottery!"
Okay, who in the right mind, I mean, who in the right mind, is going to scratch that?!


That scaly mother-trucker!
So yeah, a small note to you. No, my mother is not going to scratch a coin on a potentially murderous dinosaur lizard. So please, refrain from becoming a millionaire.

An Open letter to teenagers

This doesn't just go out towards girls. And I mean that, because who are we to perpetuate double standards, right? I find this particular topic needs to be addressed, so bare with me. Recently, a YouTuber released a video of him pinching girl's butts, and he meant it as a "Prank". I find it hard to find words for this, because girls themselves now find this to be "Okay". That people treating you in a low and degrading way is just nonsensical feminism and bickering.
First of all, let me say that if a girl was to go out and touch a guy's butt, I would have the same reaction.
People have gone as low as to defend something against them, trying to prove..what?!
Trying to prove that you don't want to be associated with people who treat you with respect, that if someone was to touch your body without your consent, and then apologize, it would be alright? Not sure what you're fighting for, then. Really teenagers, wise up. (Or anyone)
You're worth more.
Just give yourself that worth.
Because it's up to you what your value is, and what you let others do with your body.

You're flying low, you idiot.

Let me just start off with saying I ain't a pilot.

I didn't know the lingo. 

I was innocent, frail.

Yes, today we shall talk about the first time someone told me my fly was open.

For those not familiar with this term, it is when you don't zip up the zipper on your jeans. Fun stuff, I know.
It was back in grade five, and me being the idiot I was (Oops sorry did I use past-tense?) IS, I said
"What? I'm not flying?!"
And of course they were repeating the term as if i'd know it, and all I'd do was repeat the fact I was not in a plane. Not to mention me squatting to make myself shorter..
WHY IS THIS NOT WORKING?! I AM NOT A FREAKING PILOT!
In the end they proceeded to point at the gate to one's lady gardens, something one would rather not hear about. So I zipped up my jeans, and felt like I was an airplane the entire day.
The worst part of it is, I didn't even get to fly...
...So next time someone says you are rather close to the runway, remember, you're not flying.
You just gotta close the door.
This message was sponsored by the International Association Of You-didn't-get-the-lingo Victims.

(P.S For you lovable gullible people, it's not real, don't look it up.)

PARKOUR, YO

1,000 BLOG VIEWS!
To think this many people read my insane thoughts, and actually relate to it is, well, INSANE!
Y'know what's more insane? My comma use. I like to use commas for dramatic pauses, like this one.

Now, while I may have all these people reading, i'll never really be as famous as my celebrity friend, Anna.
Because y'know, you're never famous until you're considered famous by someone who has done nothing to be famous. Yes ladies and gentleladies, I am talking about the Kim Kardashian game. She has 9.5 fans, and no I cannot give you her autograph, form a line.

I learned parkour today. And while many of you may be a master of parkour, none of you will ever be as good as me. Sorry to crush your dreams, but someone needed to tell you the truth. I single-handedly did some nice parkour over my dog and threw my laptop l this morning, and it only resulted in minor injuries. Okay, I'm lying. I did it onto my dog, but the details don't matter, kay?
 Now in case you didn't get that last one, I didn't intentionally do this. It was thanks to the one and only sidekick to my clumsy-ness,


He's my boyfriend of course, and I still remember the pick-up-line I used on Netflix.
"Are you Netflix? Cuz I want to watch you all day long."
Anyways, come to me for any fangirl parkour lessons, but be prepared to feel the feels, and if you aren't up for the pain, go find a shady guy with a hoodie on a building or somethin'. I'm sure he'll set you up.
So thank you viewers, and if you have any comments, leave 'em below!

The dreaded day approaches.

  The dreaded day approaches. Prisoners file in line waiting for the dreaded moment. The moment their freedom is taken away from them as the dictatorship rules their lives.
In related news, school is in a week. I guess the first day of school is exciting. Y'know spending a couple 300 bucks on school supplies to show them off for a day, then realize you only have a pencil left for the rest of the entire year? Awesome.
You know how the entire world is throwing cold water on themselves for charity? Well, I'll tell you what. Guess who called? Environmentalists. They want their water back. As soon as they finish throwing water on themselves. No, but really, donate money for ALS research, it's a good cause.
They're starting to bring out fall clothes. You know why they call it fall? Because we all want to fall asleep forever because winter is coming. (Well at least until winter's over, so for us in Canada, we want to be awake for maybe a week)

On the bright side for anybody who reads this, that means more stories of me almost dying on a skihill, so YAY FOR NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES FOR THE BENEFIT OF OTHERS! WEE!

So expect more embarrassing stories in the coming months. Also, stay tuned for my great first day extravaganza next week on Monday.
Who knows what things I'll trip over or fall into.
Until then,  you will need to find amusement in this:




The amusement is it's nothing, so you'll need to figure out what the blank spot means.

Monique's Guide to being a weirdo in public

Everyone's always all about being polite in public. What's that? Just kidding, I can't even go up to someone and ask them for those little ketchup packets. I guess I shouldn't ask the person in the next stall of the bathroom for ketchup packets.

No but to be perfectly candid, I am shy and polite in person. That's why I decided to put together a list of things you should do in public for me! Pfft, I'm not ruining my reputation, go ruin yours for me!

Monique's Guide to being a weirdo in public

1. Walk around a mall or somewhere while muttering to yourself

"Darn, where did my pet snake go?"
2. In the bathroom, quietly slip a note to the person in the next stall that says:
Do you like me?
Yes or no?
3. In an elevator sing
"YOU'RE ABOUT TO ENTER THE TWILIGHT ZONE!"
4. Go to a maternity store and try some clothes on. When the store clerk comes over and asks you have everything is doing say:
Why do these clothes make me look pregnant?
5. Ask a random stranger for an autograph and then squeel like a teenager.
6. Go to a store and pick out a bunch of random items. Walk to the cashier. When they ask you if you're ready quietly whisper:
"You'll need these items in your future, use them wisely."
Slowly walk away.

Alright, see you guys.

Diary of a hormonal fourteen-year-old (Slash mutant fly thing human baby..) (thing)

Yeah, put this in the embarrassing teen diary entries, but you know it's true. People, you know it's true.
In advance, I'd like to apologize that I haven't written for, like, a month. I was busy doin' stuff. Y'know, the kind of stuff you dismiss as stuff because it isn't actually stuff it's just you doing nothing and probably fighting with a stranger on the internet over what fictional character is the best? No..you people don't do that? Well then I just made this very awkward between the two of us. I think we need to see other people.
Wow I just single-handedly confessed all my inner secrets and broke up with a blog reader in a paragraph. Good for me. I am getting better at this blogging jazz.
Right. Hormones. I'd like to explain the fact that I like reading. In case you didn't already get it after the countless blog entries about fictional characters, writing, and books. Pfft, clueless.  Am I damaging your self-esteem? I feel like I am damaging your self esteem.
Annnnywayys, it seems nowadays I have the attention span of a mutant-fly-thing.
Maybe I am growing younger, maybe I am an old person now, and I am just growing younger. Maybe I am a human baby! Y'know, that little exclamation mark after human baby just makes it sound more naive than I thought it would sound.

Hi, I'm back. Okay, I guess what this "Diary" is trying to prove is that I need therapy and I am now a mutant-fly-thing-human-baby

P.S I missed talking to you guys or this pixelated paper, whichever one of the two. If you stuck around this long, gold star for you!
P.P.S Everybody knows that everyone only reads the Ps parts of my blog because they are the only sane part of the entries. Or maybe because I give out stars. Wuttever..
See ya!