Disclaimer: Hmm? What? Me, own? No. Who are you trying to kid? I'm just a poor, lonely student without a thing in the world. tries shoving…certain…Gondorians behind self What? Behind me? Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Friday, February 14—I guess
Dear Diary
OK. This really sucks. I'm lost. We were hiking up a stupid trail, and I tripped and fell down the side of the mountain. (Don't worry, we weren't high enough up for it to be really steep or anything.) But anyways. I lost consciousness because there was a stupid rock in the way of my head. When I came to, I was stuck in some forest with a bunch of strange trees.
I couldn't get a signal on my cell-phone, and my compass isn't working. I know, because I looked at it and it said I was facing North. Then I checked my phone to see if I had a signal yet (even though I hadn't even moved) and when I checked the compass again—without budging an inch—I was all of a sudden facing West. Neither of these things is very nice. And then, some Renaissance wanna-be with long blond hair comes riding up on a horse and starts yelling at me in some foreign language (think it's Russian or something. Or maybe German. Or Dutch. Foreign. Weird language.) OK, yah. So that really bugs me. Why can't people learn English when they come to the US? Seriously. Welcome to America. We speak English here. Learn it. Buh-bye.
Yah, but anyways. So, this guy brings all these other blonde-guys-on-horses-friends of his over and they start pointing these frickin spears at me! Sheesh! Just who do they think they are? I mean, seriously. Like a sixteen-year-old girl is going to do bodily harm to them or something. Right. I don't think so, buddies. And then they…herd (for lack of better words) me to this camp and tie me up to a dumb tree! Seriously. What is with them! Whatever happened to 'women are the more delicate race' trash? They're supposed to be nice to me! Especially if they so wacked that they think that they come from such an obviously old-fashioned society.
I yelled at them some, and finally they re-tied me so that my hands are now in front of me. Much better. Writing is definitely boring, but it is so much better than staring at the tip of my nose and trying to count how many freckles are there. This isn't fair.
Oh, would you look at that. The freak with pretty yellow hair and the sharp pointy sword is coming over here. Yah, "blah-bah-blah" to you too. What, does he think I know what he's thinking? Yah, uh, I don't think so buddy. I am so totally suing them or something when I get out of here. Dumb -