<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d2501019875636259858\x26blogName\x3dSOUTH+BROADWAY\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://romanticsandramatics.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://romanticsandramatics.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d9204363690459862992', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>
"..a happily ever after below the waist."
ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW.

“..I’m an addict for dramatics; I confuse the two for love.” –Taking Back Sunday

I'm Chelsea Beckett & Joseph Mark Trohman is my hero.
Cheers.

I’m every cliché but I simply do it best.




WHERE YOU WANT TO BE.

To the emergency exit door, no.


al/alister; the resident couch potato.
Anderson D./Andy
arvy.
audreyyyy.
bamba.
The BarBars.
bets/betina.
bianca.
brittany & casey.
cheenyka.
chi; simply indescribable.
christina marie.
dindin, dingdong.
disconinjas.
ells; the Fall Out Boy chic.
hannah c.
hudaaaaa.
ice.
ickbal.
iman.
izaq.
jammie.
jana.
jemuel.
joakk/joey/quack.
jolin.
joel
jovan.
justin.
kathrine.
katkat/kathrina.
kathleen.
kevin
kim.
kriztine abigail.
krizteena.
leiz; still the blabla.
manuel.
margaret.
maria natacia.
marlieeee/marla.
melanie a.
Mary Jayy/Mary Jane/Mary Joyce.
millah.
mizwarr.
monica/monix.
mumz.
mykaa.
nabs/bilay.
naqieyahh; pronounced na-KEE-yah.
Neesah aka Victoria.
Nicholle Zoe.
nikita.
nikki.
nina.
paths; the photographer.
pinkyy.
rcheller; the Manhattanite.
rhona.
ria.
relzz.
rielle/jan.
rosemary.
rubianca.
sarrrr.
seebs.
sim.
syiqah.
shanny!
steessh; the LOUD.
tashaa/nats; for cookies click here.
tiaraaa.
timmy.
umi; the taller one.
ummi syahirah.
wryck.
viel.
yerraaa.
yvonne&rora.
yzma/amelia/ismey
zim.
zim & friends.
zul.




ENCORE

Designer: deboarahandsarah:)
Base codes: DayBefore!Misery
Image: threadless
LOUDER NOW.

cbox.ws
Saturday, May 2, 2009
What It Feels Like To Be A 2nd Degree Piece of Muck 9:02 PM

I feel so low at the bottom of the food chain right now. It’s a Saturday night and I’m sitting at home online, watching a TV series on YouTube which follows the endeavors of several women quite unhappy with their present weight, attempting to lose weight in a span of 3 weeks or so while constantly getting nagged at by my dear brother to get off the computer.

Well if my laptop was with me right now, I wouldn’t be hogging the bloody desktop now would I? Actually, this is just one of my state-of-the-art, recently devised schemes at getting my laptop back. I’d use up the computer too much that will incessantly reduce my brother to begging on his hands and knees for my parents to give me my dear laptop back. That and constantly blasting loud music (I’ve actually moved my speakers and woofer into the room since I can’t hear a thing with the old speakers – honestly, they’d feel right at home in some museum dedicated to the collection of ancient and particularly astute technology) in their room that would tick them so much that they would actually want to return Joe. Honestly. I’ve just about rebuilt my playlist on this computer and I am, without a doubt, killing the memory space. I just want my laptop back okay, geez.

Anyway, back to my feeling like a 3rd degree piece of turd. At this hour, any regular Saturday, my mates and I would most probably be chilling at some discreet area outside the mall just having a good time without ever needing cash. Around the bridges, swimming pool spots, fountains. I was actually supposed to go out and watch Wolverine with Qawi and the guys today (it was his birthday yesterday, happy birthday again love) but most unfortunately, I am still under house-arrest. Oh, joy.

Things cannot possibly get any worse, and no, I’m not asking for it to get worse. School’s been pretty mediocre, homework, tests, the regular As and Bs showing up somehow on my papers in bright red ink with several other things in between. As for me, if you were to ask me how I’m doing I would say… I’m hovering between the lines of utterly-desolate-sometimes-feeling-the-need-to-get-shot-I-will-not-be-missed-anyway and the lines of I-guess-I’m-fine-except-for-these-little-chest-pains-and-being-grounded-business. Gee.

I’d best be off, still can’t shake the feeling of being lifeless out here, slowly rotting my insides on this wooden chair. But at least I have Mayday Parade and Fall Out Boy accompanying me through these sick and lowly times. Goodnight, all. 

Labels: ,


HISTORY

January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
March 2010
November 2010

YESTERDAY.
-Can I Have My Life Back Now?
-A Drop of Silver on my Ear: Another Day to Smile A...
-Sweat No More: The Long Awaited, Much Deserved Lib...
-I Wish My Homework Was Asexual Just So It Would Do...
-Stop, Look and Stare: Forget Misery, Pure Lethal L...
-Funny, Everyone Still Seems To Smell The Same: Fir...
-Take a Dozen of my Apologies and One More for Good...
-I Think Sometimes You Forget Where The Heart Is
-Chelsea: Poster Girl for the Anti-FaceBook
-Joshua: Poster Boy for the Socially Dysfunctional