Showing posts with label Viv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Viv. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Vividly Disgraceful

I have spent the past six days (not including Tuesday last) with Vividly. It is now possible to call her Vividly Disgraceful! We were at my grandparents house, and the night before we went we had a sleepover at my home. She now has a new obsession. Resale shops. In fact, I will get her to write a blog post about it. (again her blog is leporard-stuff.blogspot.com) Anyway, we start school in one week! AND we are both in the same advisee! (If anyone does not know what that is please post a comment which I or Viv will answer by way of Post or comment. Anyway GAG. SCHOOL. It makes me wish summer vacation would go on forever, although I LOVE my school. And I love my sixth grade teacher!!!!! Although I love school, I'm sort of scared starting sixth grade since A. It is MS (middle school) B. I think it will be quite different then JU-A (my old class 4th and 5th grades) and C. We are studying Africa, and don't really know anything about Africa and am not sure I'll like it!!! Oh by the way, so far morse code is not going anywhere (YET)

Oh well, as always,

Dramatically,

Eleven
P.S. Sorry there is no oicture I tried but it didn't work

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Dash Dot Dot Dash (X)

Vividly and I are attempting to learn morse code. Wish us luck. We may not succeed. *sigh*

_.. ._. .___ _ .. _._. ._ Oh whatever!

Dramatically,

Eleven

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Vividly

Hi, me, Eleven here to write my first post. In this case, about my best friend, Vividly.
If you want to visit her blog click the link. Well, Viv and I like to do almost everything together. We like to shop together, read together, watch movies together, and laugh together. We even have the same sense of style and almost wish we could double eachother's wardrobes, which frequently causes some small fights, since neither of us wants the other to have the same clothes. In fact, right now I'm at her house, on her computer, writing this, while she sits behind me, breathing down my neck. And asking me to hurry up. And dropping braclets on my toe. Maybe I should go. Maybe if I go, she'll stop dropping braclets on my toes.

Dramatically,

Eleven