One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I’ve been asked this question hundreds of times and I remember once, when I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate the pain. Though I couldn’t speak, I held up 9 fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and she called me a fighter. “You know how I know?” she said, “You called a 10 a 9.” But that wasn’t the truth.
I didn’t call it a 9 because I was brave. The reason I called it a 9 was because I was saving my 10…and this was it.
THIS FUCKED ME UP
Now this is one of my favorite quotes from tfios. None of that ‘okay’ shit. This just shows the pure and raw pain that hazel was feeling.
Me: *playing Tomb Raider*
Grandmother who is visiting for the weekend: Mind if I sit with you?
Me: *squirming slightly because there is gore and swearing in this game and my grandmother is a sweet old lady: Um, if you want to.
Grandmother: *sits* Thank you, dear.
Me: *continuing to play for about five minutes*
Grandmother: Grandmother: Grandmother: LOOK OUT THERE ARE THREE COMING DOWN THE HILL
Grandmother: THAT WAS POINT BLANK HOW ARE THEY ALIVE
Grandmother: OOOHH YOU MADE THAT EXPLODE
Grandmother: STOP KILLING MY GRANDDAUGHTER
Grandmother: KILL THEM KILL THEM ALL
Grandmother: OHHHHH YOU SHOT HIM IN THE HEAD OHHHHHHHHH
Grandmother: RUN RUN RUN YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE RUN
Grandmother: OKAY NOW KILL THEM ALL
Me: *slowly turns to look at her* Grandma
Grandmother: *sweet smile* Hmm?
Me: Grandma oh my god
Grandmother: *more smiling* Well, hurry up and kill everyone else, I want to see you save this Sam person.
Me: Me: Grandmother: Kill them.
btw in case yous have slept on this - there is an amazing tv show that exists on this earth called I Wanna Marry Harry where they’ve tricked a group of american girls into thinking they’re on a dating show competing for the heart of Prince Harry and it’s fucking phenomenal
Dad: Why the hell did you put a comma there?
Dad: Do you even know what a participial phrase is?
Dad: Omg. He's like my favorite character of all time.
Dad: Who should I dress up as for the movie premier?
Dad: Hey are you awake? I know it's late, but you read Animal Farm, right? Yeah. I need you to read this report. I can't tell if I am just super tired or if this is actual bullshit.
Dad: Alesha wouldn't be able to spell 'definitely' right if wrote it down for her. She would fucking erase it and then write 'defiantly', because she doesn't care. I hate her.
Dad: I need you to bake brownies. I lost a bet.
Dad: Omg. You cannot ship me with Gilcher. You know I don't like tattoos and he's like twenty-five. And for Christ's sake, he teaches math.
Dad: Omg. Gilcher said the funniest thing today.
Dad: Mrs. Ashworth and I have decided to start a band. It'll be called Great Expectations.
Dad: It's like you didn't read the fucking book.
Dad: Okay. So this week you're reading this book I stole from Mrs. Ashworth's. It's like sixty pages long, but you'll love it.
Dad: *puts books on my bed for me to read everyday and demands that I read them*
Dad: My son doesn't like reading. I have not only failed him, but society. You aren't my son. Leave.
Dad: Okay. So you're getting books for Christmas. All of you. I get discounts on them since I'm a teacher, and since I'm a teacher, it's all I can afford, so...
Dad: Fucking standardized testing can go fuck itself in the ass.
Dad: I have to teach for the required testing instead of what they really need to know.
Dad: Fuck the government.
Dad: Fuck the school board.
Dad: Close the door.
Dad: Charles Dickens was so fucking pretentious, and I hate him, but he also caused change, but he's such a Dick. Ha. DICKens.
Dad: I love puns.
Dad: People who say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor are assholes.
Dad: Please shut up.
Dad: Catching Fire was the worst book but the best movie and that feels weird.
Dad: I wouldn't get so mad when you call me at school if you didn't change your ringtones to inappropriate rap music.
Dad: I fucking hate Alesha. She asked what countries were apart of Austria-Hungary today and I almost told her to get out.
Dad: You cannot visit my school in a dress that short. There are boys there.
Dad: Barbra Parks is fucking Queen.
Dad: I need you to make me a good, relaxing playlist for silent reading. I'm too lazy.
Dad: If I have to watch two of my students grind on each other at one more dance, I will kill them both.
Dad: They act like I care what they think.
Dad: I hate homework.
Dad: I have decided to become a politician.
Dad: What's the one book with the guys and the one kills the other and the chick without a name who dies and the short angry man? Mouseman? Oh my fucking gosh. Of Mice and Men. I have failed.