Want to hear a dirty joke?

A white horse rolled around in dirt.
Bahahaha. (Just for you, Sierra.)

What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?
... "Where's my tractor!?"
Bahahaha. (That was was for me, Sierra.)

And just for the heck of it, Sierra, I will use your name multiple times in this sentence, Sierra. Sierra! ;)

I've recently (about 20 minutes ago) discovered I enjoy doing hair. I like curling it and then putting it in up and playing with it. (In case any of you care, I curled my hair all over my head and then put it in a ponytail, then I took half of the strands of the curls and put them around the pony tail- just putting a bobby pin in the middle of the curl- and secured them with bobbypins. Then the remaining half of the curls I tucked under like a bun and secured with bobbypins).
One of my most favorite things is feeling pretty. I like getting dressed up and putting on dresses and doing my hair and make-up and putting on heels. I love it. Today was one of those days, unfortunately.

I discovered that I ALWAYS wear dresses/skirts on days it snows. Obviously, not purposefully. This morning, it looked sunny and it was. I should know Colorado better than that... But obviously, I don't.

Some girl in my EFE class (in 8th grade Spanish) asked me today,
"So how was your first day of high school?"
I replied, "Not bad, freshman year feels like a long time ago, though."
She gave me a blank stare and then said,
"Wait, what year are you?"
"I'm a senior."
She literally laughed out loud. I mean, an lol for reals, guys. And then she looked around at her homies who were looking at each other in disbelief.
"NO WAY! I thought you were a freshman or sophomore!"

...Ugh...
I don't normally mind looking young. But with my made-fun of senior pictures and school ID, my ability to wear the same clothes from 8th grade, The fact my 6th grade modeling pictures still display a spitting image of myself today... I would love to grow up a little bit. Just a little? Get some hips? Go crazy and get a tattoo?
I understand I'll appreciate it later. And like I said, I don't normally mind it. But 8th graders are so mean, blog...

That is all for tonight.