Year7s

I am aware that this may be a controversial issue, and I am opening myself up to being accused of being ageist but I think that everyone will agree that year 7s are annoying. Year 8s are barely better.
I am pretty sure that when I was in year 7 (note: I was never a year seven, the two things are different) I swear there was a hierarchy system in place. You know, year sevens do not walk into year 8s, neither walk into year 9s e.t.c. now however, that seems to be abandoned. These midgets (I was never that short) shove into me and then tell me to watch it.

The little bastards.

I put it down to the sudden transition from top of the school to annoying children.
those screaming, rude, short, immature annoyances are the pain of every secondary school-dweller's lives.

Blog Properly Now

So I am searching for a blog by making up names and they normally exist except my joy at finding them is often quickly crushed by the 0-3 posts I see infront of me. Why not delete your blog if you are not going to post on it? Or when I comment and the owner doesn't check except annually, again - delete. I want only dedicated users on blogspot and all you others can leave and take your awful blogs with you.

People that won`t let me argue with them.

Now this habit might be peculiar to myself, but when I am annoyed at somebody I like to shout at them. The appropriate response to being shouted at by someone you have annoyed is to stay still, shut up and meekly apologize at the end of it all. With that done your relationship with that person (or me anyway) can continue as normal. What I hate is when somebody will not let this happen. They have to smooth talk their way out of it, disarm you, put things in a way that make you seem unreasonable, the manipulative bastards. This in the end makes your relationship worse because steam is unable to be blown off annoyance that you can't vent builds until you want to mutilate them. People who are like this in arguments to be promptly subtly drifted from in life.

Good Food

So I come downstairs feeling not peachy perfect and sit down at the table where my family are having a positively gormet lunch. My tender nostrils at this delicate stage of my illness are assualted with blue cheese and suchlike and it continues until I meekly ask for heinz spaghetti on toast. This prompted a thought, why do our (or maybe just my) parents try to bring me up on wonderful expensive tasteful food when we want rubbish? It would be easier to feed me crap, I want to eat crap and it would be cheaper for me to eat crap. I am sixteen now, I am responsible for my own malnutrition so let me eat out of cans please!