From out of the blue...

Ahem... Hello, Internet.
I know, it's been a really long time. I'm not good with saying goodbye... Or hello (as is evident from this awkward message), so I was just hoping you could maybe not question my prolonged absence? Maybe? No?... Damn. Okay, well, I will give a few vaguely general responses as to why I haven't blogged in a while. I was on hiatus. I was trying to find myself. I was dealing with some personal things. I was captured by homicidal hillbillies who didn't have wifi (talk about technologically incapable). I had homework. I was tired. *cough* So I was hoping that would be all good? Yeah? Alright, I love you, too. *hug* This is nice.
Alright, enough of that.
I was talking to one of my friends today and the topic of my blog came up, and she asked "You're still blogging, right?". To this I responded "...". This answer made her displeased. How do I know this? She gave me The Look. If have ever been a son or daughter (or both, we don't discriminate here), you will know the look to which I am referring. Let me give an example: You are sitting at dinner with your parents and they ask you why you didn't turn in your geometry homework, you respond with "Well... I was walking to school and I got mugged by some Math Ninjas. They are running rampant around the city...". Your mother/father (or both, again, we don't discriminate. And by 'we', I mean I don't) says "Kelsey, you don't walk to school. *insert look here*". No? Okay... Your parent or legal guardian tells you to clean up your room.
(ONE WEEK LATER)
You have not cleaned up your room. Your guardian approaches you and says "KELSEY, I TOLD YOU TO CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM! NO ONE WILL EVER WANT TO BE YOUR ROOM-MATE IF YOU ARE SUCH A SLOB!"... BAM! The Look is upon their face. Yes, so my friend gave me The Look. So, Micaela, this is for you.
*scuttles for something to say*
Oh, I got a new phone. His name is Hermagilde (pronounce Her-muh-gill-duh). Porpoise (my old phone) died. He was committed suicide. I was changing for my PE class (How permiscuous), and Porpoise decided that he didn't want to live any longer, so he flung himself from my pocket and landed directly into a sink. For some mysterious reason, the sink was filled with water. And I don't mean a small puddle of water, I mean a few inches of water. So, obviously, he is no longer in operation. Although, I still keep him by my bedside table. I think that's kind of creepy, actually... It's like keeping a dead pet on your bedside table. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and glancing over at your deceased pet: "Oh, hey, Fido. How's it going?". I'm sorry, that was really sketchy...
Okay, I'm gonna stop talking (typing) before I get any creepier (which is bound to happen).
PEACE, MY HOMIES!