See these are my things DO NOT TOUCH, Phinnias!

Well, this is technically Cass's blog, but I use her account. Cuz I'm lazy and hopeless with social sites. My name's Ricky. I live in New York, no where near where Cass lives. I do know Cass, tho. I'm not a hacker...ever...I wouldn't hack some twelve-year-old girl's account, I'm not evil! Jeez.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Lasagna, YUCK!

Raf ame doer bis' shah tokay amt Leandra! That's native stuffed animal talk for " Hello dear humans and welcome to my lovely blog". I've had the worst two days of my life ! Yesterday I slept over Joey-Joe's house. Joe's family is health nutty. For lunch I expected something normal, like sand witches, pizza, pasta, meatballs. But Miley (the housekeeper) served me fish with a red sauce on it that tasted like ground peanuts and cheese spray. ( Joe told me it was 'Dorelle DA Miley", a sauce made of peanuts, chopped onions, celery, basil, ginger, fish blood and Carmel nuts. Yuk!) The fish was so sour! Later we did homework, puzzles (Boring!), read books, and listened to Joe's classical music Cd's. Joey-Joe wanted to play with his cuddly sheep (he has like 50) but I'm not going to go over my dorky limit. Then it was dinner. All the kids went into their rooms and changed into fancy clothes (dinner clothes) and we went downstairs. In the grand dining hall with a chandelier, huge long table, and wood carved chairs, dinner was served. All the girls kept giving me evil glances because I wasn't dressed up. Joe pardoned me and told his mom that I forgot my dinner clothes. Miley came in with dinner. It looked like a regular lasagna to me. I took a piece (very politely) and ate with my fork. After we said a blessing (or Kenna told God that she wanted a bike) I took a bite. It was disgusting! Joe must have seen me make a face and knew in an instant what was wrong. I didn't eat another bite. Later Joe told me why I didn't like it. It was rice pasta, with home-made sauce, NO MEAT, and lettuce. I gaged at the sound of it. Joe and I raided the fridge at night. I got all natural popcorn with no butter, and Joe had low-fat yogurt. We slept fine. The next morning, while I was dressing, I saw I hadn't got another shirt. So I had to borrow a plaid green and white shirt with buttons up the front. At breakfast, Tracey chuckled. At school, in native stuffed animal, we learned the native language. Gama ouzo! That means: I stink! Native stuffed animal is my worst class. Vamp, Jami De Petr. Volga loo! (Well, gotta go! Bye now!)

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