What is must be like to be Chloë Grace Moretz

ChloMo is a kickass in herself. There are a handful of sweet-ass blonde teens in the industry today, but she stands out to me.

I rarely get envious of peoples lives, because, I sort of a assume everyone has skeletons stacked up in their closet. But. Frankly. I kind of want to be her. 

All American Christian Georgian Chlo totally would have guys giving her jewelry before she slept with them. She would totally order fresh star-fruit in her trailer everyday and get it. She would totally drop acid at Bonaroo and get to go on stage and dance with the Lumineers. She’s an angel-princess hybrid.

Reasons I want to be ChloMo:

•      She started in the realm of drama and horror. Two of my guilty pleasure genres catapulted her to fame. Not Disney, but guts. (Did I mention she’s going to be Carrie, as in they’re re-making CARRIE!?)

•      She’s worked with Johnny Depp (Dark Shadows), Nicholas Cage (forget all y’all whom hate on NCage, you’re just looking for someone to hate), and as a brat in that JGL tearjerker (500) Dayz.

•      Oh yeah she guest appeared in that thing Drew B and Best Coast directed together.

•       And that’s just the beginning.

Chloe if you love me they way I’m infatuated with you pucker your baby porcelain doll lips and neva stop shaking ya teen babe bonez.

Save Me Some Hot Water Pt. 2

Recently, a few things have been bothering me. Like how I overuse the word "cinematic" because I genuinely think everything is cinematic and can't properly describe anything I witness without viewing myself as Meg Ryan in a movie starring Meg Ryan. I think it's a coping mechanism to handle all the ways I've failed at handling real things that have been happening.

Another is an adult thing. I don't really focus on adult things so that fact that the idea of "future plans" has been a monkey on my back.

I often stray from reality to comatose myself with my alter-universe of Daydreamatropolis, where the guys like me, the homework doesn't matter, and food is always fried. Is it viable to be mad that my realm of fantasy lacks any system of work and ethic because I've been so spoiled? To not be able to create feasible dreams because of my relatively "silver-platter" lifestyle?

How many hours, days, years have I wasted sifting through the internet? Re-folding laundry? Biting my nails? Even as I sit in detention with a full agenda I opt for blogging route instead of productivity. My grades attest to my failure of responsibility. I want to attend University of Housewife or College of Little Strife.

Tears, man, tears.