Never Ask A Dyslexic For Directions

 I have lived in NYC for all of my life, but I still get lost and end up having to ask people for directions. As a dyslexic, you can never be afraid to look like a tourist, even in your own city. Sadly one summer my friend from the South, had remembered how to get back to my sister's apartment when I could not. I have come to realize I don't know if my lack of direction skills comes from being dyslexic or a trait I have inherited from my mother's family..The Simons. My uncle who isn't dyslexic, but claims he has Adult ADD, had once forgotten how to get back to my house in Long Island. My uncle would have probably kept driving around in circles, if it wasn't for my dad spotting him on his way home and helping him find his way. My mother is not only dyslexic, but also a Simon, which should explain why she had once driven to New Jersey instead of to our upper east side apartment when she was coming from Soho. Since I am a clone of my mother, it doesn't come across as bizarre that a blind women gave me directions on a Boston T map. To make myself feel better, I think she wasn't fully blind because she new exactly where the stop was on the map. Maybe she was just trying to be blind for a day, but whatever her intentions were it made me realize sometimes I just have to laugh at my life. But, If the seeing eye dog gave me directions then i could go home and feel sorry for myself.

I Did Not Need To Go To Hebrew School To Know Jews Should Not Be Dyslexic...Have You Read The Haggadah?

Receiving claps after reading my part in the haggadah has become as old as Passover itself. This year I not only read with confidence, but did some of my best mumbling.  Before posting I always skim over my writing and instead of reading mumble, as a normal person would, I read it as mumba.  After sitting for five minutes and wondering why mumba kept coming to my mind, it hit me.....  "One, Two, Three, Four, Five everybody in the hometown, hometown, home lets ride, to the Rickey shore....." At this point in the post, you're agreeing with the connection of the Mumble and Mumba, but questioning if those are really the lyrics to the song? The way I wrote that was my version of the song for the past 10 years. These are the real lyrics, "One, two, three, four, five everybody in the car, so come on Let's ride to the liquor store..." If anyone ever questions my dyslexia, instead of showing them my documents I should compare my version of the song to the real lyrics. For the amount of years I have been singing the Mumba song wrong, I have also been resisting the wrong pray in lighting the Menorah. My version, Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech ha-olam a-sher (My Text) To a not to Witch-a Stand One Name Under God To liberty and Justice For All. -I knight you with the ability to laugh now.  Back to the Jew dinner. I call it the Jew dinner because for a long time I couldn't pronounce any of the Jewish Holidays. Instead of trying to memorize them I just renamed a thousand year old tradition. Names of Holidays, friends and lovers have always been a struggle for me. I could never say Christian, so I would just ask people if they Christmas or Hanukkah. Remembering my friends names were also difficult, even if I was friends with them for months, I would ask them what their nickname was and hope it would be similar to their actually names. Renaming my lovers name has always been the best part of being dyslexic. Some of the names I have come up with have been, Appointment boy, BL, Re-Re, and there are some nicknames that I will not post because they are too inappropriate. My roommate told me I need to be honest to my fans, and to be like Chelsea Handler. I told her I'll be as honest and open above my life once I have had five successful books and have my own talk show.  

The Three Second Hold Up Is Good For Horny Men And Dyslexics

I am a very gullible person, but I don't know if it's because of my innocent appearance or my dyslexia. The answer, dyslexia, but to make myself feel better I would like to say it's a combination of the two. My teacher today was trying to make a joke by saying, "what is that Bollywood movie that has a lot of singing and dancing In it?" Like usual, I didn’t get the joke so I was going to say, "Oh I know which one your talking about, but I can’t think of it either." Before you question if I am even dyslexic  or just plan stupid, I like to say my teacher said it in a  very serious and questionable tone.
            At the age of 20 and having had criticized over a hundred people in my life, I have learned the lesson to wait at least 3 seconds before making any comments. The 3 second hold up isn't just good for dyslexics, but could help any horny guy at a bar. Men at there...if you see a hot girl at a bar, and you do the 3 second hold up, you might then question if you really want to approach her. I understand your horny, but do you want that surprise of a waking up to a ding dong instead of a coochie coochie in the AM?...I don't think so. 

I have come to the conclusion that a dyslexic only has two choices in life. Either to become famous or become a criminal.

Have you ever been in a conversation where a famous person is brought up, but you can't put that formula name with a face. Yet you continue to nod your head and laugh, but think who the fuck are they talking about?  In class we were talking about Annie Leibovitz.  Since I am dyslexic, which means I am horrible with names, even my friends, I didn't know who the fuck Annie Leibovitz was or even how to pronounce it. The first person that came to my mind was Annie, but then I thought no no not everything is related to my consistent character look-alike reference. My Second thought was is Lubwitch  a Jewish name, because as most of us know or maybe I am just making another quick statement, there are a lot of Jews in Hollywood right? Then I thought I might as well use the thousands of dollars my parents spend on tutors and sound the bitch out. How did I sound it out...Lub, which referenced to lube, and witch like I am going to witchta your ass. The great thing about being dyslexic is I have the ability to make as many improper sentences as possible. It’s like almost getting away with death. I wonder if anyone has ever pleated dyslexia as a mental challenge.
 Dear Judge,
I killed Boobie, I mean Bobby because he fun made about my dyslexic, please forgive me.
From,
rellik laires 
P.S, I did spell that word backwards, all on my own. 

If I Could Only Say One Sentence In My Life It Would Be...How Do You Spell This Word?

When I have trouble pronouncing certain words, I have this amazing ability of sounding like I am either speaking French, Korean or Pig Latin. Recently I have been trying to pronounce a certain word, which I don't even know if it’s an actually word or not, but it starts with a B and well...that’s all the clues I have so far. When I pronounce this mysterious word it almost sounds like I am trying to say Bonjour, but the word I am thinking about is another word for over the top. Although I am dyslexic, I'm capable of knowing Bonjour, means hello in French. Unlike my mother, who walked in a store in Paris and said, Hola, in her heavy Long Island Jewish accent. Please forgive her, she is a part of the dyslexic cult. Don't worry she wouldn't mind me posting about her dyslexia because everyday she tells me "Tori, you stand up in front of the room and say 'I am Dyslexic and I am proud.'"
 You know those people who start to sing a song and then forget the rest of the lyrics so they mumble the tone of the song under their breath? But, when I, sing a song and forget the rest of the lyrics, instead of just mumbling under my breath, I continuing singing in the same tempo, but in a Korean Pop Star voice that you would probably hear in the game Dance Dance Revolution. 

The one person I can always count on to understand my dyslexic/gibberish pronunciation is my sister. Sister, Sister, never knew how much I needed her, until I went to college and didn't have a spell-spell-spell, check-er. If the lyrics don't match the tempo of the original Sister, Sister theme song please forgive me. I mean there are bigger problems in my post that you can be critical towards. My sister and I would be the perfect contestants for the password game. We have been training since the day I was born. All the time she had to help me remember my middle name was Elaine, E, like Elephant.  I used to think my middle name was Malorie, which was actually her middle name. There isn't another person out there who I could call up and ask, What are those dark, creepy characters that were in the movie Hunchback of Notre-Dame and she would responded in a simple tone, you mean gargoyles. I feel like if my sister knew the moment her child would come  whom that it was going to be dyslexic, she would probably say, "Oh hell no, I ain't dealing with this again.", while shoving it up back in her hoot. For those of you who know my sister, she would never actually say those lines because one, she is the nicest person and two this sentences is so improper that she might throw up from it. 

Discussing Brits, Jews and Southern Folks In One Blog Post Can Only Be Done By A Dyslexic

One question...Why are the British noses so adorable and overly just perfect? My obsession with noses steams from my Jewish background. Let’s face it, the Jew nose isn’t the most attractive thing in the room. It might be the first thing we stare at, but in the similar stare you've given someone who had a giant pimple on their forehead. You want to tell them to just pop that bitch, but you realize how insensitive you would sound. Also like a Jew nose, there isn’t much you can do. This isn’t a cleft palate situation, their no charities for the Jew noses, just daddy's bank account. Don't worry, I am aware I'm sounding extremely mean, but one last comment about my people.....(WARNING THIS WILL SOUND ANTISEMITIC, BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE I AM A JEW). Do you ever notice those girls at parties who from the back would seem attractive, from their sledder bodies and American Apparel black skirts, but then they turn around and they've got the Jewish gargoyle look going on? You know where the eyes are droopy looking and their noses are weirdly shaped? Since I believe so strongly in karma I should probably stop making fun of Jewish people and go back to what I do best, making fun of Dyslexics. 

I don’t know if it was the British accent, my dyslexia or thinking everyone is similar to me and likes to make sexual comments, but when an fifty-year old British man, at a storytelling show said the sentences, “He must of been”, I put those four words together, and in my mind it sounded like the word masterbate. After I thought the man said masterbate, two thoughts came to my mind; why didn’t anyone laugh and the Brits even sound so sophisticated when they use crude words. In London, one of the subway stops was called cockfoster and well... you don't have to be dyslexic to imagine why that sounds funny. It sounds even better if you say it in a very serious British accent.....COCKFOSTER. Now wouldn't you say that is funnier then laughing at someone who is eating alone? 

Since my topics for this blog post are random and all over the place, much in the same way as I speak, I might as well post about my habit of putting on a fake southern accent during camp and yelling to people, "Come on guys, pass me the ball, I can't read." When I look back on my character choice, I most say I am pretty impressed with my knowledge on the South. I am not saying people in the South can't read well (here I go again, making rash comments that I will later regret) what I am trying to articulate is that it's easy to imagine the typical redneck, one tooth, trailer park character not being able to read well. After I make comments, I always get the same questionable look of, "How weird can you be to come up with that comment." You know what I say to those people, their are more sicker people out their who have more disgusting minds then me. At least I am not thinking about wanting to tie someone up, light them on fire and throw them in a river! I just happen to say the wrong words like prescriptions instead of descriptions and bandos instead of bandannas....When it all comes down to it I am just a normal dyslexic girl living in the real world, just trying to get by. (For those of you who watched Told By Ginger, that was a lyric from the seal girl song.) 

Not knowing what ash wednesday means, isn’t a dyslexic thing, it’s a jew thing

For a long period of time, which still includes today, I had no idea what ash wednesday meant. In high school there was this one factuality member, who year after year, on that very special Wednesday would always rock the dust on her forehead. I always wanted to say girl, you got something on your forehead, let me wipe it off.  I also thought she was trying to cover up this massive mole on her forehead. I am not exaggerating when I say massive, it took up half her forehead. Poor girl, god didn’t even bless her with a symmetrical mole. It was oddly shaped and looked like what kindergartners would draw as a moon. At first I thought ash Wednesday meant taking  your dead relatives ashes and sticking them on your forehead. I thought it was some type of reincarnation that Christina made up in the BC era. This theory came about after I had just seen the first Harry Potter movie. I was at the part where Voldemort had trapped himself in Professor Quirinus Quirrell body. I didn’t think J.K Rowling was that creative. I thought she had to have gotten this trapping soles idea from somewhere. As you can see I have no what ash wednesday stands for, but i am thinking it has to do with forgiving ones sins. My theory is that it’s only okay to walk around with dirty on your face in return for god to forgive you for all your sins, which includes the times you peed on the street, bit your toenails instead of using the clippers and the most sinful of sins wishing you could just pop that bitch of a pimple on the person’s face standing in front of you on the subway. Now that you know my sins, It would make me feel better if my three followers, which includes me, would tell me their sins. 

You Know When Your Severely Dyslexic When You Spell Server As Survey

Tempur-pedic mattress. Easy word to read, right? WRONG, WRONG! Let us pretend tempur-pedic is the name of my ex-boyfriend, which entitles me to have a bitch session about them. I was in my comedy writing class and someone had just written a sketch about a couple fighting at a tempur-pedic store. Another girl and I were auditioning for the part of the insecure wife. You might be wondering how a dyslexic does a cold reading? The answer is to pray. Pray to god that you go second, so you can hear someone read it first. After the person reads, a dyslexic must repeat every single word in their head.  When the person stumbles upon a word that a dyslexic feel they might have trouble reading, you memorize the shit out of that word. Well at least memorize it for 3 minutes until it's your turn. The problem I had was there were two words I had to memorize. I knew I wouldn't be able to read the name Clark, or tempur-pedic. I felt like Leonardo Dicaprio in the movie Aviator, when he aggressively washes his hands while repeating the way of the future, the way of the future. Instead of being Howard Huse, a genius and an OCD freak in the 1920's, I was in the twenty-first century, sitting in a classroom repeating the words Clark, Clark, tempur-pedic, tempur-pedic, while my face represented an old man trying to get rid of a kidney stone.

Then the dyslexic was up for bat. Right out of the gate, I pronounced Clark perfectly. In fact more then once, but then that bitch tempur-pedic approached the page. All of those tutors and sounding out games wouldn't help me here. At first I tried mumbling over the word, which I usually do when I don't know the words in the horoscope app on my phone. After I tried mumbling the word a few times I knew an actually word had to come out of my mouth. I started to think of other long words that started with a T, so tempur-pedic came out as tranquilizer. Thankfully the girl who had just read the script, whispered to me it's tempur-pedic. Then I corrected myself and said tempur-pedic as I looked up and started laughing. I looked around the room and instead of people laughing with me, I only received looks of embarrassment. At this point I wouldn't even mind if they were laughing at me, all I wanted was some type of laughs. The best part out of this situation was when another student had forgotten to write in his script the apostrophe after the t in it's. Then he jokingly said, Sorry dyslexic moment. Listen up buddy, that cannot be classified as a dyslexic moment. A dyslexic moment is when you thought the apostrophe in the word it's was a stylistic choice. Yes I am referring to myself. As you all can imagine I didn't get the part. This brought me back to my childhood when I didn't get the part of Annie. Instead got orphan number six. But you know what I gave that one line my all. All that memorizing paid off because I can still remember it to this day, "Wow this place is great."

LESSON LEARNED AND IF NOT BLAME ON.....YOU KNOW BY NOW!

It just slipped, no I didn’t criticize a boy's ghetto necklace again. Unfortunately for me the necklace ended up being his mothers, who was dying ,of breast cancer.  My comment this time was way less embarrassing and didn't cause a twenty year old kid to tear up at a bar. I just told my teacher that when I was younger I thought every color was orange. I thought he might feel so sorry for me that he would exempt me from having to write the paper. Maybe I didn’t understand the material because I kept looking at his large face in relation to his body. Or maybe it was his cheap tie from H&M, or his facial hair that was distracting me. It sounds like I don’t really like him, but surprisingly I really admire him as a teacher. Maybe because he seems to share the same problem as me, the fate disease. If you haven’t heard of the disease, it’s okay because I made it up. The meaning of it is not really that hard to understand, It sounds exactly like what is. I mean this was made up by a dyslexic, we think simple. How do I know the teacher shares the same disease as me? When he tried to explain how human minds complicate events, he related it to his first date with his girlfriend. WARNING RUN ON SENTENCE AHEAD. He said on his first date he thought it meant something that they were both wearing purple and the fact that she was wearing a low cut shirt, which he maybe though meant she wanted sex, but then she was wearing boots up to her skirt, which could mean she was conservative. After he took a breath on the skirt comment, I wanted to say maybe she was a Orthodox Jew trying out what it would be like to be reform. Don't worry I  didn't say this. I learned my lesson the first time....and the second time when I made another insensitive comment. When I happen to blurt out that my dad's patients looked like a rapist. My dad comment back was that this so-called "rapist" had run away from his alcoholic wife with his two kids and lived in a trailer. Did I mention he didn't have a car and had to walk on the Long Island Expressway to get grocery and pick up his girls from ballet? This is why I think I should convert to Christianity so I could go to confession. The priest might start charging after me. 

My Mind Is Like A Boy Going Through Puberty...It Takes Patience

Some times my mind takes a little time to process information. This girl in my class kept bringing up the word Sirius. I kept thinking Sirius, who is Sirius? OH, Sirius Black? No, No, Sirius Slither Snake? No Tori those are two different characters from Harry Potter. Then I realized she was talking about Sirius radio. This type of miss confusion with words has happen to me, many, many times. I am like a little boy at night who pees in his bed. Sometimes we can't control our problems. Mind over matter I say. In the same class we were discussing Bobby Moynihan. This name sounded very formula to me, but instead of trying to figure out who this person ones, I just kept thinking of other famous people with the name Bobby. Bobby Brown, Bobby Fisher, and then I thought wait, who is Bobby Fisher again? The only reason I knew who Bobby Brown was because I could picture in my mind Kathy Griffin doing her famous impression of Whitey Houston, screaming Bobby, Bobby! Even in the simple game of charades, which could be played by three year-old and up, my dyslexia stabbed me in the heart once again. In this game of charades I had to figure out what character my friend was acting out. All that kept coming to my mind was Annie. When a dyslexic has a word in their mind they just keep repeating it until it can be used in a proper sentence. I am like those people on the train that read the dictionary and try to use one of their "A" words throughout the day. Hoping to use the word correctly at least once. Even though my friend kept nodding her head no after I said Annie, Annie, her roommate, who seemed to have a rare eating disorder of always being hungry for Donuts, every hour on the hour, turned to me and said in a nasty tone, "She said three words, three words." And you know what I said to her...Sorry Bitch I couldn't hear you with the donuts coming out from every whole of your body! I didn't actually say that, but I wish I did because it's much funnier then what I actually said which was, Oh sorry.

Google Translate To Me Is What Tinkerbell Is To Paris Hilton

I know I am making an old pop culture reference, so ancient in fact that some of my facebook friends probably are wondering if Tinkerbell is the nickname for Paris Hilton's private part...(MUST BE IN WHISPERED TONE) her vagina! No matter what you think Tinkerbell means, her poochy or her coochy, Ms. Hilton needs both of these present to keep up with her iconic image.  Having the ability to use Google translate, is not like Ms. Hilton's underwear, it's not an option, it's an everyday necessity. You might be wondering why a dyslexic needs google translate? Why would a dyslexic try to learn another language when they can barely speak American. (I know the language is called English, I was just trying to get some giggles.) I'll tell you a secret, but please don't repeat this to google Inc. I don't actually use the translate bottom. I just type in words I can't pronounce, click the sound button and my girl Patricia reads it to me. (Yes, I did give the automated voice a name.) Readers you might be feeling sorry for me, but I rather you get an afternoon of laugha, then sorrows feeling. All of our emotion should go to the great Whitney Houston. I know she was not dyslexic, but it all comes back to the hair connection.

There Are Bees In My Dyslexics Bonit

You know who are the best secret keepers? Dyslexics, but you have to befriend the ones with short term memoir. Long term memoir dyslexics won't get the job done. The job you ask? Do you ever vent to someone but then afterwards question who they might tell? Well a dyslexic with short term memoir won't remember a fucking thing you say! Imagine being able to tell someone all your secrets and not have to worry about who there're going to tell. It's like a dog or baby. Their real enough that you feel you are talking to a human, but do not have the humanistic skills of gossiping. you might be wondering why I talk so down on my own kind. I am only letting the mass public know dyslexics inside jokes.  Also since you are reading this in the confront of your own home, probably on a toilet where you read most of your friends blogs, you don't have to feel guilty at laughing at the disabled.

Who Doesn't Like To Google Their Own Blog

When I typed into google dyslexicsRpeople2, the result was "famous people with the gift of dyslexia." you know what I say to that dyslexia isn't a fucking gift! It's like when people with birth defects say their huge mole on their face is a gift? What is the gift part of it is that everyone has a shocked face when you enter the room? I am allowed to say such a mean comment because even when I tell people I have dyslexia I get the same shocked face. "really, I never would of known." we'll of course it's not like I got stamped on my forehead "I confuse my Bs and Ds and for a long time thought every color was orange." It's nice I have role models to look up too, Orlando bloom, hottie with a body and a hot wife. Tom Cruise, nut case, which equals creative mind. We can't leave out Albert Einstein, not only are we both extremely smart, but we both have crazy hair. After I googled dyslexia I felt the same satisfaction as if I gave money to the kids in Africa, or dogs that have no home. I know that doesn't really make sense, but just take in the confusion of the sentence and feel smarter as a person. Amen! 

Screw College, Television Are My Scholarly Sources

Sex And The City, learned how a woman should act in the boudoir. Flavor Of Love, learned the characteristics of an African American woman. MADE, learned that the word loin DID NOT MEAN MY SOUL, but is defined as ones pubic area! 

Hopefully everyone knows the premiss of the reality show MADE. I'll try to explain it in a single sentence. I mean run-on sentences to me are like a stripper performing a lap dance. It's our thing, it's what we we’re born to do. 

Made is a reality show on M.T.V where a teenager wants to be seen as something other then the persona they are portraying and they receive a coach/mentor and then the show begins with the teenager saying,.. "That why I want to be made into.....” 

In the episode where I first heard the word loin being used, a jockey boy was being made into a figure skating. When his coach asked him if he could handle the figure skating moves, the jockey boy replied "Of course I can. I feel it in my loins." None dyslexics can I please get a little encouragement up in here. If someone didn't know the word loins and heard it for the first time in this sentence wouldn't you think he was talking about his soul too? 

You might be wondering how I learned the right definition for loin. Don't get excited and think I actually took the time to look the word up in the dictionary. I would have to have a dictionary IVed into me for the amount of words I have to look up. 

During my math class in high school my indian teacher asked me if I  was understanding the material. 

I replied by saying, "I feel it in my Lions, Nagubandi." Yes, that is his name. He made me look up in the dictionary what lions meant.  Let me just give a little background about this teacher. He had a twitching problem, but thought he covered it up by pretending to yawn. He also called his students monkeys and calculates were called children. He wanted us to refer to him as GOD. See there’re weirder people out there then me.  Only I would miss phrase a sexually word to the most prude teacher. 

Even though my roommate who is a writing literature and publishing major, told me the right spelling of loins I kept questioning the spelling thinking it was too similar to lions. Why spelling gods do you make words spell and sound so similar. It's a laugh for you, but a struggle for me. Wow, that was deep. 

Do Not Read if Spelling Is Your Pet Peeve

Here is a Dyslexic riddle for the day...What word was I trying to say here, Knowfishage? Having trouble figuring it out? It’s okay I was having trouble myself remember what word I was trying to spell. The word I really meant to say was preconceived notion. Not only could I not spell the word, but I also couldn’t pronounce it properly enough for anyone to know what I was trying to spell. Instead of preconceived notion the word Nova Scotia kept coming out of my mouth. This dyslexic moment was almost as bad as when I couldn’t pronounce Pearl Harbor. Not only did it sound like I had a lisp when I was saying the word, but it sounded like I had no tongue and just started learning how to speak that year. Unfortunately I was ten, wasn't diagnosed with a lisp problem and I had a tongue. I could only accuse one thing in this matter, where most of my blame lies....MY DYSLEXIA! 

(Note: If accused is not used in the right context, one I am sorry and two I don't give a shit. I am trying to broaden my words, so Thesaurus this post is dedicated to you.) 

I got 99% problems, but spelling ain't one

You know when you try to help a friend by telling her that her ex-boyfriend’s new hookup buddy is hideously ugly, while trying to think of a really funny description for this hideous beast? What happens when you spell the descriptive word so wrong that she replies, “oh that sounds disgusting, but what is it?” Welcome to the life of Tori Piskin.  I told my friend that the new girl in her ex-lovers life looks like an octopus, but the dyslexic that I am I spelled it octo piss. Since I knew that was definitely wrong I tried Octopuss.  When I try to sound words out I try to relate the syllables to already existing word that I know. So here is how a Dyslexic breaks up a word.

(Please hold laughter in until the end of the post.)

 I came up with Octo because it sounds like octagon and that’s a very sophisticated word so I felt like it had to fit in somewhere. Puss came out of, just what you think, the puss that comes out of a pimple.  Although this strategy sounds reliable, most of the time it leads me to having to relay on Google for the right spelling. Since I spell words so miserably wrong I have to put it into a sentence. “An octopuss has many legs.” Maybe since google knows my striking out ability of missed spelled words, it didn’t even give me an options of how to spell it correctly. The lovely google just took away the extra S. Who needs a lover or tutor when you have google. 

What's The Story Morning Glory...I forgot The Rest Of The Song

This morning I felt like such a scholar reading, American Artist on Art, over a warm cup of coffee, no words would fool me today. My brain laughing away and saying, “Girl you got to be kidding, you ain’t no art historian.” Being on a high of art terms I soon took a little tumble, when I thought the word monument read Muhammad. To me Oldenburg answer read “There’d been talk about a competition for a Muhammad to Ellis Island.” I mean I was off, but at least I was on the same page, both words having the letter M,U,N. I regained my confidence though when Oldenburg response to his confession of what monument definition was said, “At the beginning, I didn’t think of it that way.” I wanted to say me too Oldenburg, me too.

(Note: Notice how I made my brain’s attitude of a black girl? I figure since my brain is closest to my hair, which is so coarse it’s sometimes considered African American hair, it was appropriate to give my thoughts a little a-ti-tude. You have to snap in between the syllabus or it won’t be funny, now try again.)

(Note: first spelled appropriate like apriproate, so I typed into google the only sentence that seemed right, appropriate ways to bring up death.” I have a sick mind.)

Dyslexic Moment Of The Day

Today I read Lassie and thought it was a French word, which in my mind read Lasei. If you read Lassie as a dyslexic it makes totally sense. For the rest of the world that reads Lassie as well, Lassie….forgive me. The sadder part is the only two dogs I have ever had in my life were both Collies. This situation reminds me of how, I don’t really know how to spell my middle name. I mean I know how to spell my middle name, but every time I finish writing the E, in Elaine, I am praying that I spelled it right. Maybe I am not the best at spelling my middle name because I thought for a while my middle name was my sisters, Mallory. So on top of being dyslexic and only having four years experience of spelling my middle name, I feel like it's understandable that I question the spelling of it.  

(NOTE: I thought the past tense for read was spelled reed so who better to ask for spelling advice then my roommate from Korea.) 

If You Can't Spell Dyslexic, You Are Dyslexic.

In attempting to receive some laughs, I hung this photo above my bed of the famed dyslexic, Albert Einstein. The laughs were suppose to come from old Albert citing some Eminem lyrics, but I soon realized the joke was on me. You probably have guessed it by now, dyslexic is spelled wrong. Ding Ding Ding. If you recognized this you are most likely not dyslexic, so I just spared you thousand of dollars worth of testing. If you are dyslexic and recognized the spelling error you are either becoming a better reader, so finally those summers spent at reading camps and tutors are paying off or just simple luck. Most likely it was just luck, but I'll give you the satisfaction of decoding those hard words. Decoding, fancy word right? The only reason I know how to spell it or know the word because It's always associated with my name. "Tori, try decoding this word" If only they knew every time I was saying "This Shit again." It's like when rats have to go back into hiding when the owners come home. They're saying the same thing as me, "This shit again."

There A First Time For Everything

Give me a beat, give me a beat! Yo, here a story about a dyslexic girl living in the real world and that all she knows! No but seriously that all I know, I can't rhyme for shit.

 You probably are wondering why a dyslexic is starting a blog? It's called a challenge. It's a similar situation to when the most unattractive male in a bar tries to hit on the pretty girls. We all know that eventually they will get turned down. The moral of the story is and I think this is what their therapist/mothers are telling them, AT LEAST YOU TRIED! So hear I am putting my Dragon Dictate software to good use! For those of you who aren’t my roommates who constantly have to hear me talking to myself, Dragon Dictate is a software where I talk into a headset and it types what I am saying. Similar to the headsets people use to play world of warcrafts. Instead of telling people where to shoot or Chat Roulette users using their hands for other pleasurable activities, I am using my headset to write sophisticated sentences. I thought sophisticated was spelled sufisticated. 

WARNING: Due to no spell checker present, side effects include misspelled and run on sentences.

Think of my blog in this way, if you ever wanted to be a teacher to the Learning Disabled community, instead of going through the hassle of getting your teachers Degree and having to find a job, you can just edit my work and feel the same satisfaction.

Before I adieu, I would like to make another connection between a dyslexic and my idol, Biggie Smalls.

This is for all the teachers that said I couldn’t amount to nothing.