Adventures in Incompetence
The Adventures Begin a.k.a. Introductory Spiel
Bonjour! Buenos Dias! Hola! Hajimemashite! Chesch! Nihao!
.... Damn I can't think of any other greetings. Oh well.
You are about to embark on an adventure of epic
proportions, one so harrowing and terrifying that you just
might soil your tighty-whiteys in the process. You are
invited to read about... ...
Bumblebee's Adventures in Incompetence! Or, more commonly
known as, "Life-at-an-all-girls-catholic-school-really-
bites-ass". Yes, you may realize that it's now summer, and
school is out. But I'm PMSing, and I'm in the mood to start
regaling you all with my fractured musings on the life of
one as cursed as I. You might ask yourself, "Why should I
waste my time reading some lesbo chick's stupid diary
entries, when I could be watching David Hasselhoff's beefy
pectorals bounce as he runs down the beach on 'Baywatch'?"
Well, I'll tell you why. First, I'm not a lesbian (Only on
Wednesdays, but I'll go back to that later). Second, if you
really *are* a fan of David Hasselhoff's springy cleavage,
then I'm pretty sure I don't want you reading any of my
stuff anyway. Please leave. And get yourself sterilized
while you're at it.
That leaves the rest of you. If swearing, slandering,
name-calling, sex, catholic-bashing, and other
miscellaneous "unsavories" are offensive to you, please, be
my guest and read on. Obviously you need to lighten up a
bit and get that stick out of your ass. Everyone else can
read too. Hell, it's a public diary.
So here's a quick run-down on the mistress of this diary:
I go by "Bumblebee" on the net, and no, I will NOT give you
my real name. I refuse to become fodder for cyber-perverts
or gosh-knows-who-else. I'm from the lovely *snort* state
of Washington. I'm currently attending (read: incarcerated
at) an all-girls catholic school. I have spent two years
there so far, and I have two more yet to endure. I'm 17
years old, a political liberal (all you republicans can
kiss my ass) and a firm believer that David Bowie is God
Incarnate. No, I will NOT have cyber-sex with you. No, I do
NOT want to see a webcam picture of your private parts
(unless you're famous in Hollywood). Yes, I am wearing
underwear. No, it's not lacy or sexy. And finally, No, I
can NOT hook you up with Pearl Jam (just because I live in
Seattle doesn't mean I'm in cahoots with every single rock
band that came from our lovely city)
That's all I'm going to say for now. If you've got any
questions, e-mail me and I might humor you with a half-
truthful answer if the situation warrants it. I'm going to
sleep now. I'll begin the actual diary later, when I get
back from a short trip to Hell (Texas, the republican
inferno that spawned the seed of all evil, George Bush).
Bumblebee's word of advice: Don't eat grass. It's bad for
the intestines and you can't digest the cellulose. And who
knows how many dogs have been by that patch of lush
yardage? Stick to Cheerios.
Ja! ~Bumblebee ([email protected])