So last night, my sisters, my writing group and I had a write-a-thon. we were supposed to stay up until 2 in the morning writing brilliant and creative things. The writing group had to leave at 10, and things went downhill from then. it was around 11:30, when I started propping my eyelids open with toothpicks (and by the way, that hurts! don't believe what you see in cartoons.) That my sisters went to bed.
And me too.
I'm ashamed to admit it. I woke up with a headache and a toothpick splinter in my eye. It was fun though. I might have stayed up the whole night if the writing group had stayed, but as it was, my shoddy self discipline put me to shame.
Maybe I'll do it again. Maybe every hour I'll report back here and give an update. That'd be good. It'll be a seiries of posts.
okay
I can do that
until 2.
In the morning.
the eary early morning...
When farmers get up to let the cows out.
When birds start looking for their breakfasts.
When my Mother starts to excersize.
When UFO's are most prominant.
and now...When Sarah takes the toothpicks from her eyes and slumps over her finished chapter.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Darn Tigers!
I love Tigers. They've always been my favorite animal. Probably because everything in the universe was pushing me toward Lions. Oh, you're a Leo! That's a Lion thing! Oh, Your elementary school were the Lions! That's a Lion thing! Oh, you were born in August! That's a Lion thing! Oh! You're name is Sarah! I'll bet that's a Lion thing too! Lion Lion Lion!!!!
During all of this, there was that quiet yet deadly tigress in the corner who, because the noise level had reached above it's tolerance for cleaning it's paws, looks up at all of the lions circling me and non nonchalantly purrs,
"Leave the kid alone."
After which the lions run with their tails between their legs. Oh yeah! I hero-worship the tiger. I always imagine that if I came face to face with one, it would end up like the Jungle Book, (live action) where they would accept me as one of their own and teach me all of their tiger secrets. I'd grow stripes too, because...that's really cool. Although if I really came face to face with one, I probably have to leave my face behind.
I even remember reading about Lions and Tigers and finding something that said: If a Lion and a Tiger were to fight, the Tiger would probably win. HA! Take that!
Anyway, my whole point starts like this:
I drink tea. Herbal tea, and no, it's not as bad as you may think. Fruit tea is actually pretty good, and I have this apple cinnamon that tastes like cider. Call me old fashioned, but it also gives me an excuse to speak in a British accent and give impossibly long monologues on nothing at all, and I never pass up a chance to do that.
Anyway, I found this herbal tea that had a big tiger on the front of the package. So I picked it up and read on the back that with every package bought, the company gave a donation to the preservation of tigers.
Immediately, I imagined what the world will be like in ten years, overrun with animals, dying for revenge on the humans. I would be surrounded by wild animals, and I'd pull out the well worn package as proof that I had tried to help them. Then the Tigress would look at me and tell all the others
"Leave the kid alone."
I nearly dropped the box. That would be sooooooo coooool. I mean, besides all of the dying going on in the background.
Needless to say, I bought the tea. I went home. I made the tea. I let it seep. I took a sip.
It is so so gross.
I say this very hesitantly, as I might offend my tigress protector.
It tastes like bamboo with lots of sugar. And dirty socks
I'm still drinking it, though. I just took another sip. Yeah, it's still pretty nasty.
I will probably still drink the entire box, because I love Tigers, but I'm starting to have second thoughts. I mean, I've never tasted any lion flavored tea, who knows?
It's not the tigers fault, I know that.
It'll all be worth it when the animals take over.
During all of this, there was that quiet yet deadly tigress in the corner who, because the noise level had reached above it's tolerance for cleaning it's paws, looks up at all of the lions circling me and non nonchalantly purrs,
"Leave the kid alone."
After which the lions run with their tails between their legs. Oh yeah! I hero-worship the tiger. I always imagine that if I came face to face with one, it would end up like the Jungle Book, (live action) where they would accept me as one of their own and teach me all of their tiger secrets. I'd grow stripes too, because...that's really cool. Although if I really came face to face with one, I probably have to leave my face behind.
I even remember reading about Lions and Tigers and finding something that said: If a Lion and a Tiger were to fight, the Tiger would probably win. HA! Take that!
Anyway, my whole point starts like this:
I drink tea. Herbal tea, and no, it's not as bad as you may think. Fruit tea is actually pretty good, and I have this apple cinnamon that tastes like cider. Call me old fashioned, but it also gives me an excuse to speak in a British accent and give impossibly long monologues on nothing at all, and I never pass up a chance to do that.
Anyway, I found this herbal tea that had a big tiger on the front of the package. So I picked it up and read on the back that with every package bought, the company gave a donation to the preservation of tigers.
Immediately, I imagined what the world will be like in ten years, overrun with animals, dying for revenge on the humans. I would be surrounded by wild animals, and I'd pull out the well worn package as proof that I had tried to help them. Then the Tigress would look at me and tell all the others
"Leave the kid alone."
I nearly dropped the box. That would be sooooooo coooool. I mean, besides all of the dying going on in the background.
Needless to say, I bought the tea. I went home. I made the tea. I let it seep. I took a sip.
It is so so gross.
I say this very hesitantly, as I might offend my tigress protector.
It tastes like bamboo with lots of sugar. And dirty socks
I'm still drinking it, though. I just took another sip. Yeah, it's still pretty nasty.
I will probably still drink the entire box, because I love Tigers, but I'm starting to have second thoughts. I mean, I've never tasted any lion flavored tea, who knows?
It's not the tigers fault, I know that.
It'll all be worth it when the animals take over.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
My shoes are falling apart
So, today, I canceled My Gym membership. I called them up and told them they could find another perky overweight socially inept potential sucker, I'm through!
I'm taking the break up rather well.
I spent two hours on the phone trying to get some information. I finally did, after calling the machine several inappropriate names and leaving six messages.
And my shoes are falling apart.
But today has been a great day!
I guess I should yell at answering machines more often.
I'm taking the break up rather well.
I spent two hours on the phone trying to get some information. I finally did, after calling the machine several inappropriate names and leaving six messages.
And my shoes are falling apart.
But today has been a great day!
I guess I should yell at answering machines more often.
Monday, April 20, 2009
My Family. Aren't they cute? part 1
So my nephew, Christopher, recently won a contest and he got to meet Brandon Mull. Kudos to him, he's one of his favorite authors. He described his story as 'unique'. I think it's really great for a nine year old. here it is:
One day, a curious boy was snooping around a private lab. After two and a half hours he stumbled across some unique gadget. On it there was a sign that ordered: Don’t touch the red button! But instead of obeying it, he did just the opposite. After he pushed the button, lights flashed, lighting bolts struck, and something buzzed. And then, everything went black.
When he woke up, he found himself in the hospital. Ten days later, he was released. When he got home, he saw the house was empty. Strange, he thought. Then, his eye caught something. It was a note and it said: Edward, we have been murdered. Love, your family.
Now, you’re probably concerned about what that gadget did, right? Well, one who pushes the button, is given a burden of misery, misfortune, and the entire thing that happened in Lemony Snicket’s Series of unfortunate events. And so, let us return to our story, which will have a 99.99% chance of misfortune. And so I will give you a warning, to read, or not to read. That is the question (See Hamlet, by Shakespeare).
And before you could sing the entire song of “Yankee Doodle,” something unusual happened. A flood of root beer came pushing its way to poor little Edward. He screamed, but nobody heard him. As the flood raged through town, the mayor tried to solve the problem and took immediate action. As the flood raged through town people put up sand bags to avoid the rest of the city getting flooded. And then, at 3:30 the flood was stopped. As a celebration, the had a swimming in root beer contest topped with a root beer drinking contest. Unfortunately, little Edward was not invited.
Little Edward, now homeless and an orphan, wandered near the pond. Thinking what he should do, he stumbled over a dead tree. Then Edward got a fabulous idea. So using his Swiss army knife, he slowly hollowed out the tree. And after 17 days, he officially called it home.
And so after so many days of misery, Edward found happiness, joy, peace, faith, and well, just love at his new homemade home. After a couple of days, Edward found a pet, which was a duck. And that cured his lonesomeness.
Well, I guess that I didn’t put as much of misfortune as I thought. I surely hope this story wins because of two reasons: 1. I wish that I could meet Brandon Mull in person. 2. My family just loves Mr. Mull’s books. Any way I am running out of words, so farewell whoever is reading this. Farewell…. Farewell….
( P. S., the number of words are 455. )
Pretty great, huh? I loved the part where he finds the note 'Edward, we have been murdered, love your family.'
Christopher is so smart and creative. I just love him!
One day, a curious boy was snooping around a private lab. After two and a half hours he stumbled across some unique gadget. On it there was a sign that ordered: Don’t touch the red button! But instead of obeying it, he did just the opposite. After he pushed the button, lights flashed, lighting bolts struck, and something buzzed. And then, everything went black.
When he woke up, he found himself in the hospital. Ten days later, he was released. When he got home, he saw the house was empty. Strange, he thought. Then, his eye caught something. It was a note and it said: Edward, we have been murdered. Love, your family.
Now, you’re probably concerned about what that gadget did, right? Well, one who pushes the button, is given a burden of misery, misfortune, and the entire thing that happened in Lemony Snicket’s Series of unfortunate events. And so, let us return to our story, which will have a 99.99% chance of misfortune. And so I will give you a warning, to read, or not to read. That is the question (See Hamlet, by Shakespeare).
And before you could sing the entire song of “Yankee Doodle,” something unusual happened. A flood of root beer came pushing its way to poor little Edward. He screamed, but nobody heard him. As the flood raged through town, the mayor tried to solve the problem and took immediate action. As the flood raged through town people put up sand bags to avoid the rest of the city getting flooded. And then, at 3:30 the flood was stopped. As a celebration, the had a swimming in root beer contest topped with a root beer drinking contest. Unfortunately, little Edward was not invited.
Little Edward, now homeless and an orphan, wandered near the pond. Thinking what he should do, he stumbled over a dead tree. Then Edward got a fabulous idea. So using his Swiss army knife, he slowly hollowed out the tree. And after 17 days, he officially called it home.
And so after so many days of misery, Edward found happiness, joy, peace, faith, and well, just love at his new homemade home. After a couple of days, Edward found a pet, which was a duck. And that cured his lonesomeness.
Well, I guess that I didn’t put as much of misfortune as I thought. I surely hope this story wins because of two reasons: 1. I wish that I could meet Brandon Mull in person. 2. My family just loves Mr. Mull’s books. Any way I am running out of words, so farewell whoever is reading this. Farewell…. Farewell….
( P. S., the number of words are 455. )
Pretty great, huh? I loved the part where he finds the note 'Edward, we have been murdered, love your family.'
Christopher is so smart and creative. I just love him!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Strange feeling of satisfaction
Sooo... I shouldn't feel happy about this, but I kinda do.
Back story:
About a year ago, I was in a play labeled, The Sound of Music. Maybe you've heard of it. I played a nun. fairly popular part. We had seven Von Trapp children, a Von Trapp father, one governess, one baroness, one friend, three germans, and twenty seven nuns. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, we could have a nun football team if we wanted. ...what a disturbing thought...Anyway, This didn't hurt my pride. I have been in the chorus several times. But I could sing. I know I can sing.
Dear reader the truth is, I'm somewhat proud of the fact that I can keep pitch better than most. It's the only thing I can do.
Anyway, I would have liked one of the fussy nuns at the beginning. Maybe the one who said 'A Clown!' I could do that like nobody's business. Anyway, when it came to picking the fussy nuns, the director had all twenty seven of us stand up and the said, 'you, you, you and you. the rest of you sit down.' and that was it. I didn't have a chance. I could've had that clown nun! but nazi director only wanted blond hair and blue eyes! two of them couldn't sing. I don't say this to gratify myself, no. One of them she had sing the part over and over again until finally she said, 'okay, just say it to the rhythm' and she couldn't even do that. Things just went downhill from there. She accredited all the really low singing I did to the person next to me, who wasn't even singing the same part. She talked for hours on the things we could and couldn't do, including chew gum, tie our shoes, and laugh. And then, to top it all, she had a fourteen hour rehearsal. FOURTEEN HOURS!!!!!!! There were children in the cast. If we wanted food, we had to call someone, drag them from what they were doing, and have them bring it to us to eat in the lobby. And if we missed a cue, heaven help us.
Needless to say, I quit. I told her I had a better offer, which wasn't true, and I left.
Two days after, a friend from the cast told me the part I sang fell apart, and that no one could do the choreography right, because they all followed me. I felt good. And then I felt better because the theatre, thinking I was never coming back apologized to me for the director. Apparently they had to do that a lot.
My point? (sorry I took so long to get to it, I sort of get carried away when I vent)
This director is now in jail. They sent me an e-mail telling me she needs bail. (not just me, but everyone she's ever worked with) hah! good luck with that. I kinda want the mug shot so I can hand it on my refrigerator.
Am I mean? Cruel? Thoughtless? Maybe. But it's all worth it with the laugh I gave when I heard the news.
How do you solve a problem like this director?
I promise my next blog will be less angry.
Back story:
About a year ago, I was in a play labeled, The Sound of Music. Maybe you've heard of it. I played a nun. fairly popular part. We had seven Von Trapp children, a Von Trapp father, one governess, one baroness, one friend, three germans, and twenty seven nuns. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, we could have a nun football team if we wanted. ...what a disturbing thought...Anyway, This didn't hurt my pride. I have been in the chorus several times. But I could sing. I know I can sing.
Dear reader the truth is, I'm somewhat proud of the fact that I can keep pitch better than most. It's the only thing I can do.
Anyway, I would have liked one of the fussy nuns at the beginning. Maybe the one who said 'A Clown!' I could do that like nobody's business. Anyway, when it came to picking the fussy nuns, the director had all twenty seven of us stand up and the said, 'you, you, you and you. the rest of you sit down.' and that was it. I didn't have a chance. I could've had that clown nun! but nazi director only wanted blond hair and blue eyes! two of them couldn't sing. I don't say this to gratify myself, no. One of them she had sing the part over and over again until finally she said, 'okay, just say it to the rhythm' and she couldn't even do that. Things just went downhill from there. She accredited all the really low singing I did to the person next to me, who wasn't even singing the same part. She talked for hours on the things we could and couldn't do, including chew gum, tie our shoes, and laugh. And then, to top it all, she had a fourteen hour rehearsal. FOURTEEN HOURS!!!!!!! There were children in the cast. If we wanted food, we had to call someone, drag them from what they were doing, and have them bring it to us to eat in the lobby. And if we missed a cue, heaven help us.
Needless to say, I quit. I told her I had a better offer, which wasn't true, and I left.
Two days after, a friend from the cast told me the part I sang fell apart, and that no one could do the choreography right, because they all followed me. I felt good. And then I felt better because the theatre, thinking I was never coming back apologized to me for the director. Apparently they had to do that a lot.
My point? (sorry I took so long to get to it, I sort of get carried away when I vent)
This director is now in jail. They sent me an e-mail telling me she needs bail. (not just me, but everyone she's ever worked with) hah! good luck with that. I kinda want the mug shot so I can hand it on my refrigerator.
Am I mean? Cruel? Thoughtless? Maybe. But it's all worth it with the laugh I gave when I heard the news.
How do you solve a problem like this director?
I promise my next blog will be less angry.
To the Gym!!!
I signed up for the gym today. A real nice two year gym membership. It cost a lot. A lot a lot. I don't know why I chose the most expensive plan. Probably because I'm an idiot. They guy who signed me up was probably twenty five and had the cutest brown eyes. I just sort of looked at those eyes and agreed to whatever he said. They probably saw me coming.
"Hey Joe, this one looks like one of the socially inept ones. Go get Caleb."
"But Caleb just got his foot stuck on the weight machine."
"Well, go pry him out, This one's just waiting to be hooked."
Then I come up.
"Hi! I'm a perky overweight socially inept potential sucker."
"Hi, I'm Caleb" *handsome grin*
*jaw drop*
"I'm going to need you to sign here. And here. And here."
"Sure!"
"Good. If you run out of money, I'm sure you can sell your hair, and be sure to let us know when your first born arrives, okay? okay."
I'd better get really skinny!
Speaking of idiots, I found out that an idiot is scientifically someone whose IQ is between 25 and 0. So I'm pretty much an idiot.
"Hey Joe, this one looks like one of the socially inept ones. Go get Caleb."
"But Caleb just got his foot stuck on the weight machine."
"Well, go pry him out, This one's just waiting to be hooked."
Then I come up.
"Hi! I'm a perky overweight socially inept potential sucker."
"Hi, I'm Caleb" *handsome grin*
*jaw drop*
"I'm going to need you to sign here. And here. And here."
"Sure!"
"Good. If you run out of money, I'm sure you can sell your hair, and be sure to let us know when your first born arrives, okay? okay."
I'd better get really skinny!
Speaking of idiots, I found out that an idiot is scientifically someone whose IQ is between 25 and 0. So I'm pretty much an idiot.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Of meatballs and steampunk
So I made meatballs today.
They were slightly burnt and tasteless.
My sisters are so sweet. They looked at the meatballs, looked at each other, and then said "Oh Sarah, these look so good!" Then they proceeded to eat them. Not gagging or anything, because they weren't that bad, but taking three each and eating them with great gusto, then after dinner, looking at them, looking at each other, and saying "That was really great Sarah, you're the best!" before retreating to their rooms to scrape their tongues off.
I have the best sisters.
I don't consider the meal a waste, however because as I was taking the last batch off of the stove and putting it into a container to save where it will rot in the fridge until I turn it up in three months, covered in mold, I happened to pop one burning hot morsel into my mouth.
Yeah, I'm smart like that.
Anyway, as I exhaled in the gush of pain I was feeling, I noticed that steam was coming out of my mouth. Pain forgotten, I exhaled again. More steam. So I became giddy. I giggled, and the steam came out in little puffs, which made me giggle some more, but by now the meatball had cooled off and I found only my invisible breath. lame. Either way, I'm glad that I was a steam exhaling genius for five seconds of my life.
Which brings me to Steampunk. For those out there who don't know what steampunk is, It is a genre of fantasy. A sort of victorian-edwardian-industrial revolutionary period fantasy. With lots of cogs and gears and flying airships and gadgetry. I love it. Partially because flying airships mean flying pirates. Treasure planet is Steampunk, as is Stardust, Howls Moving Castle, and Series of Unfortunate Events. All of which are pretty good.
I plan to write a book in steampunk. Well, sort of. It is an epic, partially in steampunk england, partially in revolutionary france, and partially in storybook germany. No gentle readers, it is not a time travel saga. It is simply the control the magic holds over the certain lands. I hope that it won't be too different. Here's hoping!
They were slightly burnt and tasteless.
My sisters are so sweet. They looked at the meatballs, looked at each other, and then said "Oh Sarah, these look so good!" Then they proceeded to eat them. Not gagging or anything, because they weren't that bad, but taking three each and eating them with great gusto, then after dinner, looking at them, looking at each other, and saying "That was really great Sarah, you're the best!" before retreating to their rooms to scrape their tongues off.
I have the best sisters.
I don't consider the meal a waste, however because as I was taking the last batch off of the stove and putting it into a container to save where it will rot in the fridge until I turn it up in three months, covered in mold, I happened to pop one burning hot morsel into my mouth.
Yeah, I'm smart like that.
Anyway, as I exhaled in the gush of pain I was feeling, I noticed that steam was coming out of my mouth. Pain forgotten, I exhaled again. More steam. So I became giddy. I giggled, and the steam came out in little puffs, which made me giggle some more, but by now the meatball had cooled off and I found only my invisible breath. lame. Either way, I'm glad that I was a steam exhaling genius for five seconds of my life.
Which brings me to Steampunk. For those out there who don't know what steampunk is, It is a genre of fantasy. A sort of victorian-edwardian-industrial revolutionary period fantasy. With lots of cogs and gears and flying airships and gadgetry. I love it. Partially because flying airships mean flying pirates. Treasure planet is Steampunk, as is Stardust, Howls Moving Castle, and Series of Unfortunate Events. All of which are pretty good.
I plan to write a book in steampunk. Well, sort of. It is an epic, partially in steampunk england, partially in revolutionary france, and partially in storybook germany. No gentle readers, it is not a time travel saga. It is simply the control the magic holds over the certain lands. I hope that it won't be too different. Here's hoping!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Blog!
I have a blog! yay! I often wished I had a blog to just...blog on, and now I do. I have several things I'd like to say, but I'm going to have to be careful, because everyone I know will likely be shocked by the content. Truth is, I have a secret life. Hidden from everyone. Yes, even from you. Yes, you! Truth is, I'm a secret agent working for the CIA using my mind powers to control things. And now that I've told you, I'm going to have to kill you. dang. I liked you too. of course, if you don't read this, then there will be no reason to. So if you don't read this, make sure you leave a comment and tell me, so I know not to come to your bed with a six inch dagger.
Hope you enjoy the blog!
Hope you enjoy the blog!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)