Bully Free, or Bully McGee?

           Princess Margaret Secondary School is situated in the beautiful Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Canada. A small community-oriented school, only about 700 students attend. Almost everybody knows everybody, and a large portion of the students have grown up together. It has been pondered as to whether or not this school is subject to bullying cases, but that is up to the students to decide.

          A grade 12 student at the school, Kristen Warnock, screamed and ran away when questioned about bullying at her school. It is apparent she was either very bullied and scared, or very guilty. Chelsea White, another grade 12 student, was more eager to share her experiences. "I get beaten every day. My friends greet me by shoving me into a locker or pushing me down the stairs. It breaks my heart to be treated so harshly, but there's nothing I can do about it because they said if I reveal their names they will kill me." When questioned about her classmates' experiences with bullying, she simply shook her head and quickly rushed off.

         It can be assumed that from students' reactions to the questions, bullying runs rampant in Princess Margaret. Evidently, not much is being done to stop the madness. It can only be hoped that one day, teenagers will be less disgusting and less likely to take their insecurities out on their fellow peers. The world is waiting for change, Princess Margaret, are you ready to face that challenge?

   

The best college application ever

I am complex. So complex, in fact, that people have been known to combust merely thinking about me. Zeus himself couldn't muster up the knowledge to even begin to explain just who I am. People don't mess with me.

I wasn't born; I bore myself. People call Voldemort 'he who shall not be named', yeah right, say hello to 'she who shall not be named'. I spent 224 days on the couch watching Friends re-runs, literally not getting up once. I am the alpha of a pack of wolves. We travel through the snowy plains of Canada devouring entire villages briefly after setting them on fire with our wolf fire breath. I make Chuck Norris pee his pants in fear. Who sunk Atlantis? This girl. People pay me money to look at me. Stare into my eyes for long enough and you'll burst into flames. It rains when I tell it to, the weather doesn't dare mess with me.

I actually painted the Mona Lisa. I walk away from explosions without looking back. Typhoons? No skin off my back. Hurricanes? No big. Tsunamis? Give me a break. Don't even get me started on earthquakes. That stuff is child's play. I could end the world if I wanted to, but this is the only planet with cats. I am the master of Twitter. 6,890 tweets in a day is my record. Not only do I follow people on Twitter, but I follow them in real life too. For a brief amount of time, I was the captain of the S.S. Enterprise. I shoplifted immortality from Satan's trading post.

With one leap I flew into space. With one breath I provided Mars with enough oxygen to sustain as much life as Earth. On my spare time I help manatees in Africa give birth. I invented the guitar in my sleep. I own a house in Norway that contains six hundred and sixty six cats.

Before you rush to send me my acceptance letter, don't forget to include a cheque. People pay me to attend their institutions. $40,000 a year will do. You're welcome for my time, and I'll see you soon.

A really not boring blog post so give me an A.

High school. The mere mention of the merciless prison makes Satan quiver in his booties. "You must go." he whispers. "You must experience this first hand and tell me what it's like."
I groan. Why do I always have to be the one to go suffer through these terrible Earth customs?
"If you go, I'll buy you a kitten." Drat. The temptation is too much.
"I'll go. Don't expect me to like it." I sigh as I catch sight of Satan's accomplished, toothy grin. For as long as I can remember, I've been a sort of double agent for the infernal guy. I've been sent up to the mortal world to do numerous things, but nothing quite as terrifying as this. I set out on my terrifying mission.
"Be home for dinner," he called, "I'm making pasta and steamed broccoli!"
I do a dance that kind of mimics the hokie pokie, and in a flash, there I am. Surrounded by smelly, sweaty teenagers, I already feel repulsed. The cliques and general pretentiousness of half the kids is enough to make one feel alienated, so I continue on my way.
It's 11:24 am, and I leave my second class. I'm already exhausted. My brain hurts, my eyes are sore, and I swear I fell asleep about 3 times. Not to mention some of the kids are so incredibly rude I'm just about ready to rip someone's head off.
I take a seat in the old, chipped desk in the classroom of my third class of the day. Almost at my breaking point, I am not a force to be reckoned with. The teacher comes in and spouts some more dull, useless nonsense, and I just lose it. I stand up, stomp my feet a few times, whip my arms around, and engulf the entire school in a sea of fire. Quickly, I warp back home. The smell of burning flesh and eternal damnation fills me with much glee and familiarity. I hop over to the kitchen and see Satan busy at work cooking a delicious meal. Frantically, I run over to him and he puts his arm around my shoulder, giving me a curious expression.
"Satan, it was HELL up there!"