A Challenge!!!

I have noted that it is extremely hard to write a romance. At least, I found it hard. Any short story I write, it usally has death, attempted death and other depressing topics.

So as I challenge, I am making myself write a story that is a romance. I am very bad at writing romances, but they sell well. I'm not saying the only reason I write is because of the money. But finanncial support is nice. Very, very nice.

So, join me!

Here are the rules:

1. No Death

2. No intention of death

3. No suicide

4. No drugs

5. No weapons

6. No vampires, werewolves, zombies, fairies

7. In fact, nothing supernatural

8. No depression

9. No swearing

God, this is depressing. Ironically, I think this is going to be very depressing. My next post will be romance. Enjoy that. Or rather, don't. It's...

I can't believe I am doing this.

How to stop your parents pressuring you to bleach your hair

Yes, this blog post is what you think it is.

To STOP your parents pressuring you to dye your hair.

I know that many of my peers and colleagues have the opposite problem, wanting to influence ther parents into letting them change hair colour. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to help you out here.

You see, this is my situation. I am not old. Not saying that like a someone trying to deny their age. Just to get it clear, I am under the age of twenty five, calendar time. Physically and mentally, I won't presume to say. Yet my hair has started to turn grey, relatively speaking. It is really more of a loss of pigmentation, and against my black hair, these hairs look silver. Unfortunately, they're not real silver, so i can't sell them for extra money. One can only hope.

It has gotten so bad that I have gotten more silver hairs than my mother. And some of my aunts, who are fifty. Hmm...

Many of my great aunts, second aunts and second cousins once removed or whatever, are trying to convince me to dye my hair black. My hair is already black, and the silver streaks look awesome and natural; at least to me.

Now, my parents are convinced that I need to hide my freakish hair from the world by...bleaching it black. Yay.

Here are some tips of how to get them to stop.

1. Get a doctor's advice.
This is probably the best idea. My parents dragged me to the doctor's, and she convinced them not to pluck out my silver hairs. Doc hasn't said anything about dyeing it though, but if you do manage to get your local doctor on your side, yipee for you!

2. Show them the freakish nature of what dyeing your hair can do. Pull up those outlandish current affair stories of people DYING from bleaching their hair. If they ask you what you're doing, say it's research for when you bleach your hair. That'll make them think.

3. Hide your silver streaks - just cover them underneath a bunch of your other hair.

4. Do some elaborate ritual found in some arcane and obsure, creepy website on how to reverse ageing. Or just google it.

5. Distact them by changing a topic. For me, that might mean asking which of my other relatives have or have not any grey streaks. Subtle, and then my parents get into an argument over whether my third cousin twive removed i

I hope you guys find this useful. Google couldn't help find any so this is for anyone who has the same problem as me...

Scream

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is what I feel like sometimes. Sometimes, I feel, that if I scream hard enough, all my problems would disappear. I don't think it work, though I wouldn't know.

I never scream.

Why Dragons are Extinct Today

slI never really understood why the guys had to be the one to go off and slay the dragon to prove his love for the fair maiden. I always wondered if the girl has to go off and slay a dragon. Or maybe that was too radical and pointlessly dangerous so women decided they couldn’t be bothered killing a dragon, and that dragons could be very useful. They breathe fire after all.
But if you think about it, if some guy managed to slay a dragon, the dragon’s teeth wouldn’t be the only trophy he gets. Oh no, he also gets the trophy fair maiden who, after a few years, loses her post as a the fairest maiden in all the land and is now stuck with a life of servitude to some old pompous jerk trying to relive the glory days when he could actually see his toes (right now, his pot belly a bit too big).
Happily ever after.
Note: I do not mean any ill intent to Saint George because he is a saint and can’t have been that bad.
BLAME THE EXTINCTION OF DRAGONS ON DRAGON-SLAYERS TRYING TO WIN THE TROPHY MAIDEN.
R.I.P. the loss of dragon-slayers. And the dragons.

MONEY, SUCCESS, FAME, GLAMOUR

It's what society these days is all about isn't it? Everywhere in the media, they're after you saying, If you don't chase these ideals that society currently holds, then you're NOBODY. And a lot of us are scared of being NOBODY. Yeah, outloud, some of us are afraid to admit this but deep down, i bet most of us do. I say most not all, because there might be someone out there (in yonder wide world) who genniuenly might not care. However, recently, i was talking to one of my friends when i really should have been finishing my To kill a Mockingbird monologue, and they said they were phobic about not being liked. Which is understandable, considering the fact that they're hormonal adoloescents and probably have Imaginary Audience Phenomena, a form of adolescent egocentrism that basically, as the name suggests, makes teenagers constantly worry that they look bad. Eg: They're at a party with a tiny stain on their shirt/shorts/shoes/socks and they think that everytime somone so much as glances at them, that the person noticed the stain, and think, 'What a klutz,' In reality, everyone's too drunk to notice the stain. On the plus side, the victim was probably to stressed about the stain to actually drink. Or the reverse could happen and in two hours, they're getting their stomach pumped from alcohol poisoning or whaterver. Moving on pass that lovely note... FAME: Well, you certainly can't be a nobody if everyone that matters knows who you are. GLAMOUR: It's often being confused with pretty, and not a lot of people would choose grotesquely ugly over being stunningly attractive. On the other hand, if you're stunningly attractive with lots of fawning adoration and stalkers, well... MONEY: Do I even need to explain this one? People would pretty much do anything for bits of metal and paper. Though i like to think i'd stop if it meant someone would get killed. SUCESS: Being the top of any profession you choose. What more could you ask for? I haven't included intelligence in this because intelligence would come under basically all of them. Also with being manipulative and holding few morals. J, signing off, thinking about if anyone will agree with me on this blog post.

I was in a bus crash and all anyone could do was update their Facebook status

Hey-o, To those wondering if i was okay, I'm alright. It was a waste of a Thursday night, and i really should be studying for Chemistry, and all i've got is whip-lash and a healthy respect for boredom. Two and a half hours of being strapped to a gurney doing absolute nothing can do that to you. For those who don't particularly cared what happened to me, (which I'm sure is most of you though you're all polite to admit it) I'll move on to my article. A generic Thursday afternoon, i'm on the way home with J and D on the bus. We get all the way to about a kay before the motorway (where there was a serious accident on the entry and had to shut down both lanes...ugh, talk about traffic) we had to take a detour. The detour was slow and much more longer that the trafficated (is that even a word? No, but whatever, I'll get away with it this time) but at least we were moving. I was talking to my friends when all of a sudden, there was a big bang(!) and everyone was thrown foward violently. Okay, let me tell you where i was sitting. I was in the very back row, and in the middle seat so when the bus braked suddenly, i was thrown out of my seat and landed on my knees then hands. Ouch. And embarrasing, thought not really. Everyone was just shooken up. After establishing we were all fine, we turned around in our seats to face the crash. You see, the bus had run into a commodore-sedan vehicle and you could see the fendor lying on the road, glass shattered everywhere and what looked like a door had been torn off. (Later, i would have found out that while the car was totally trashed, the driver walked away, with super-ficial scrapes.) So then began a flurry of Oh my god, i survived a bus accident, lets brag about it to everyone on FaceBook. Oh, you've got a camera? Let's take some photos. I think I should call my mum: Hi mum, i'm in a bus accident and going to be home late. Bye! Well, there was a responsible adult on the bus, telling everyone not to panic, we were going to be okay (yeah, duh, but let's pretend it's a close life and death incident to everyone else) and some people just sat passively listening to their iPhones (did they knew they were just in an accident? Yeah, but i don't think they cared) or whatever played music through earphones. Which brings back the question: I just survived a bus crash and the first thing i'm gonna do is update my facebook status. WTF? Comments anyone? *(On another note, we all got out of the bus just in case it's gonna blow up and i got taken to hospital when about fifteen -twenty minutes later when there was an ache in my neck and had to wear a neck brace and be wheeled away...I'll get anyone who took a photo of me! Went throug a really boring x-ray and trip because all i could do was stare at the ceiling and it gets pretty boring very quickly. Emergency kids ward was pretty full...Kids these days!)

A Pearl of Wisdom from Google Translate

Type in: Will Justin Bieber ever hit puberty(?)

The question mark is optional, and later will make more sense later if you leave it out.

Then translate it to Vietnamese. It will come up and say Justin Bieber sẽ bao giờ đến tuổi dậy thì.

Put this back into the translate box and translate it to English.

It will appear: Justin will never reach puberty



And that is how Google Translate answers questions of the unknown and the universe.

P.S Thanks E, for telling me about this. You know who you are. (Hopefully, you haven’t contracted amnesia since I last talked to you)