an even NEWER site.

http://www.tireswing18.wordpress.com (< check it outt)


sorry! had to delete them. it wasn’t provoked by my mother.. hahah

about 30 seconds ago, i was skimming them and i realized i put my town [not my state…weird.] into one of the paragraphs! naturally these were meant for school, not for the internet so i had no idea.

Heyy sam lovers! I have a new blog site set to begin at 8 PM eastern time! I’m so fantasticly excited about this! it will be http://www.samrenatolliofficial.wordpress.com ! I’ve seen some really uplifting success on aeropostale8 so i decided to start a new one. of course my own jen work is going to remain on aeropostale8 so check back here too! I’m sooo excited and I hope to see all of my readers there!

Hazzah for samrenatollioffical! from the Loser Table,

Sam Renatolli

Finals suck. There’s nothing more painful to me than having to sit for 40-60 minutes in the quiet little room with the pressure of getting a zero if you even hiccup. Because god forbid you’re sending coded hiccup messages to your friends so that you can help them cheat. Parish the thought. This is my first year having finals… they suck. and I’ve only had math, you can see where I get my further expectations from.  I still have a science final on Thursday, a geography final on Friday, and a contunied science final on Monday. Oh, goody. A girl who rants about everything and is about one town event from blowing her brains out gets to be figuring out what kind of bear best survives with a shorter hibernation period from 9:35 to 11:25. Now that’s a healthy combination. Science comes easily to me because for a really, really long time I wanted to be an astronaut. Then I changed my mind and wanted to be a scientist. Then I wanted to be the next Britney Spears but then immideatly took it back when she started dating K-fed. Then I wanted to be a vet which brought me back to science. It’s like a whacky little circle that everyone but me will laugh about because, well, I find nothing funny. So I have about 11 more years of finals to deal with without killing myself or another person with an extremely large textbook… but not the one for my up-and-coming final. We can’t have me on topic, that would just screw with the balance of things wouldn’t it?

Kudos! from the Loser Table,

Sam Renatolli

Today I walked 6 or 7 miles. In the rain. A tempermental loner loser girl who I’m pretty sure is approaching PMS walked 6 or 7 miles in the rain and a car drove through a puddle which covered her and her jeans. Wet jeans make me very uncomfortable. Now picture me (as best you can) wet, mad, and waving my fist in the air like some old guy with kids playing ball on his lawn, yelling “You bastard!” Yeah, today wasn’t really my best day. In fact, I’ve had better ones. What it is with that? Those “Quotes and Sayings” pictures on photobucket tell us to live life to the fullest and drink up the happiness and all that jazz, so why do we end up with days like this? Horrible, suckish days that you wish you could start over from 9 o’clock the night before by not setting your alarm and in the morning, pretending to be sleeping through her shaking and hollaring but…  if i did that she might think i’m dead which would present a whole other problem. if we’re supposed to live life to the fullest if we’re stuck with days like these? so to mock those poor, misguided morons, i wrote this in study hall. it’s supposed to tell you to live your life well even though you’ll get screwed one way or another:

Life is just like a car ride. Read the one-way sign and just enjoy the ride. Drink up the happiness earlier on the ride with someone else driving because you really shouldn’t drink and drive. Don’t stop for gas because it’s really over-priced these days but if it’s a good price, still don’t stop because someone might be smoking and they could set the whole gas station on fire and you’d die. Let the wind run through your hair because you know it feels good, don’t try to put the hood up even if it rains ’cause there might be a drought coming soon. Let the dog sit next to you in the car because your friend should really share the fun too. So drink up, get in the car, read every sign, and don’t let anything stop you because it’s a one way road and a dead end just formed behind you so there’s really no turning back. Have absolutely no regrets

ain’t that happy and uplifting? well, i try.


love and bitterness from the loser table,



sam renatolli. 

What is a guilty pleasure? When a person says “Oh, my favorite show is Hannah Montana” or “My favorite song is Funkytown” do we automaticly assume it’s really a guilty pleasure when the speaker sees the shocked and slightly sickened faces we have on and straight out says it’s some sort of guilty pleasure. I mean, it almost makes sense. I think that for people ages 12-40, Hannah Montana and Funkytown are guilty pleasures. But what is one, exactly? I was watching a special on E  one night about the top 50 guilty pleasures or something and they said that Gilmore Girls was a guilty pleasure. Now, if I have any constant readers, you all know that Gilmore Girls is only my favorite show in the history of shows that could be in the running as a Sam Renatolli favorite. I have aboslutly no problem admitting it, but is it still this thing that the call a guilty pleasure. What next? Will they declare Casablanca a guilty pleasure movie too? Everything in the world of entertainment is falling into Jokers Wild now, isn’t it?

“Your love is like a tidal wave spinnin’ over my head drowning me in your promises, better left unsaid.” Why do men feel the need to lie? To lie to wives, girlfriends, hookers, everything? Do they think we’re stupid enough, naive enough to believe whatever lie they’re telling us? I mean, my love life’s in the toilet, I haven’t had a boyfriend in two years but still, I get things. Even the smallest of lies set us through the roof. I think we just shouldn’t take it anymore. “Honey, I’m going to the hardware store to buy a new toolbox.” (toolbox, dirty tee hee), you go with him. I mean, every woman needs some new nails or perhaps a new drill to match the drapes. Go with him. He can’t go to a strip club with you watching over his shoulder. Ahaha, no.


Bibi from the Loser Table!

Sam Renatolli

Know what really sucks about me? A teacher could be giving a really facinating lecture about anything and I’d be completely spaced. Damn, I’m sure I’ll fail that quiz next period. Why do they even give us quizzes? Practice for tests? Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t that what the homework does? Prepare us? And why do we have homework anyway? What makes them soooo sure that we’ll forget everything that we ever learned that day so they have to stuff 5 freakin’ pounds into our backpacks and send us home to slave upon algebra problems and the 30 capitols of Japan? Then a teacher would say my name to answer a question, I’d pretend to be pondering about it and they’d go to a new person. Case closed. It’s probably why I flunked science last quarter. Or cause I always forgot to bring in my lab projects. Yeah.. I’m betting it was the labs. And how do teachers grade our effort? How the hell do they know how hard we work to maintain atleast a C+ average? They don’t. All the teachers claim they just know. Oh, sorry jedi, didn’t get the memo. They know?! Are they serious?!?! I spent hours working on a science lab back in second quarter and I got a 75. It was hours of slaving over this God-for-saken 11 by 8 paper with glue and pens and little teeny pieces of paper to seperate the stages of classification and i get a 75? It’s absolutly ridiculous. In have no idea what keeps me from killing the entire town but something does, my lucky, lucky town.

There are so many steriotype girls in my school. It’s insane. Like, they all look the same. I get accusations of being on but no. I’ve always like Aeropostale, I thiink that Hollister and Abercrombie are filled with overly priced crap.  My hair has been growing the way it is now for the entire summer. People think I changed it on the first day when I read about it in Seventeen. Uh… guess again. The only time I read Seventeen is at the airport when there are no good books at the store there. Which is a rare occurance, there’s almost always something there. And my jeans. Apparently I started wearing jeans when everyone else did. No, no, no, no, under any cicumstances it that ever remotly true. Ask any one of the girls I hang out with. I’ve been wearing jeans since the second grade, I hardly wore anything else. My mother stopped bothering to buy me cords or dressy pants because she knew that they’d end up in the back of my closet. So I’m just letting all the Barbie dolls of my school know that I will never, ever waste my time to look like them. I am not one of the many.

Laters from the Loser Table!

Sam Renatolli.