Week 6 of Clarion:
“You disappointed me, I thought she was going to be naked under the butterflies!”
Mark: “Don’t point at people!”
Jim B: “The point of the game is to point!”
Josh: “Jim has a point.”
“Be quiet or we’ll test you next.”
-Todd (to Brooke’s Ben.)
(insightful analysis) …I want to lick your brain.
Parenthetically, if I told my friends I wasn’t the first to write a story with twenty four foxes in it, they’d never believe me.
I am so slack~jawed with wonder an entire grizzly bear could just climb in there.
“My hovercraft is full of eels!”
“I gave it nine fucks out of ten, pretty much.”
“Get these motherfucking faeries off this motherfucking plane.”
It’s a bit like being in a sensory deprivation tank with Oscar Wilde, really.
I mean, let’s really get this unicorn horn on the table.
How about this: a new genre, right? Swords and Suburbia.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS SCENE, THAT IT DRIVES ME TO THIS?
Well, aside from the fact that everybody dies, and Kael goes crazy and kills herslf
I think I’ve identified the source of the problem.
So it’s done. This scene is totally on drugs, but some kind of a pattern for the rewrite is down in text. I need to back this up… *runs away briefly*
I thought, since there’s, like, three whole* new people who are reading this blog, and they haven’t read any of my so-called writing, that I’d jump on the excerpt bandwagon. Also, formatting this post buys me almost five whole minutes of procrastination time, and I’m out of tea to procrastinate by making. My logic is without peer.
Another blog post written on the highway!
- Soundtrack is: Coldplay
- Driver is: Fraulein
- Drink is: Ice cubes left over from McDonald’s Root Beer
- Destination is: St. John’s and the Home School Conference.
Okay, now that you have all the vital stats, I suppose I may as well explain in labourious and tedious words.
We’re going to the Home School Conference!
Okay, yes, the language portion of my brain is sadly lacking at this date. But despite this tragic handicap, I persevere and blog, for you, my loyal reader. I’m so noble. *sniffs*
Up until yesterday I though that I was going to stay home, live on tea and noodles, and watch television this weekend. My work schedule meant that I would miss the convey out, you see. And then, someone clever, (not me, sad to say), looked at the calander and noticed that I was off in the early afternoon. “So,” Clever Person said to his or herself, “Snazel could leave on the latter half of the Convoy, if the latter half of the convoy delayed a couple hours. ” And we all saw that this was good, and it was so.
And no we’ve been on the road for a little over two hours, looking to be on the road for a further three hours. Yay. On the other hand, the road is sparkly, and the clouds are beautiful. And I will probably double the amount of my freckles by the time we get there. *sigh*
We’ve gone 168 km, go us!
Geo: “Are we there yet?”
Fraulein: “You should do something fun while you you wait!”
Snazel: “You can always take up slapping yourself for personal amusement!”
Fraulein: “Self abuse is not entertainment.”
Snazel: “I’m just pinking my cheeks the natural way.” *lofty*
Oh, and when we stopped for a bathroom break a lovely old lady asked if four of my younger siblings were my children. This selection of my siblings included Slonner, who is 12 and a half. *headdesk* I guess my work clothes make me look REALLY mature? On the other hand, I just slapped Fraulein while she was driving “to make sure her eyes didn’t close,” and accused her music of being a travesty. So perhaps Maturity is negotiable? Yep, that’s what I think.
In other news, Fraulein and I are meeting up with at least two other friends, perhaps more, and going to a movie tonight! It has been suggested that we watch a chick flick. My response, roughly, was “Yeah, sure! I know a great one called Star Trek! I’m just gonna go watch it, you can join me if you want. Tah!”
At work today my printer wasn’t working when I went to balance out, so I had to call tech support. (We restarted the computer. :D) While waiting for the computer to claw its way back into relevance, I long-dated one arm, and date-stamped the other. It seemed like a good idea at the time. That’s all I have to say on that subject. Annnddd, the air conditioning doesn’t seem to be working. How dreadfully jolly. I think I’m going to buy myself a milkshake at our next stop! Good plan, me!
Geo: “Oh! I see houses!”
Snazel: *monotone* “False hope. False hope.”
No, that was a lie. I shall just mention that Fraulein has a new vest, a denim vest, from winners, that was on sale, and that looks rather spectacularly stylish. She is wearing it today.
Yesterday, she was wearing jeans that fitted marvelously, a stylish blue t-shirt that I am unable to describe other than it was royal blue and stylish, white rosebud earrings, pretty nike sneaks, and a pearl necklace. I, on the other hand, was wearing; a black “Newfoundland Liberation Army” t-shirt that didn’t fit quite as well as Fraulein’s, a man’s black pinstriped fedora, cargo pants that definitely didn’t belong to me to the point that I had to borrow my 13 year old brother’s studded leather belt to keep them on, and my brown Helly Hanson runners (which happen to be men’s shoes, by the way.) There is a reason we don’t borrow clothing from each other’s closets, you see. We have rather different tastes. Despite this, people keep mistaking us for each other. I am starting to be tempted to dye my hair red, just to escape the comments.
Anyhow, Fraulein and I were out by the nurses’ station waiting to go back to the hotel yesterday, and looked each other up and down.
Fraulein: *hopeful* “Maybe now people won’t say we look alike!”
Nurse: *approaching us* “Are you girls twins, or just sisters?”
Then today, I dug deeply into my suitcase that mainly contains books and came up with a denim dress (home schooler uniform!) and cream pashmina. So when a kind elderly man came by to give us some bread and cookies, he assumed that I was my father’s wife.
What will people take me for tomorrow? Stay tuned to see.
Total words: 28, 230
I’m sorry Private, I didn’t hear you clearly over the noise my command insignia was making. Did you say that you are able to perform my search at the same level I am? Private?
A quote from the McWork meeting on Tuesday, when we were asked if all the managers enforced the rules consistently.
Kenneth: “Yeah, they do. They all always tell me to shave every time I come in.”
Joan: “Don’t feel bad, they tell me to shave too.”
Work today was rather amusing, due to the fact that no one had had quite enough sleep. (Reasons ranged from early-riser children, to drunk’n’rowdy husbands, to vivid dreaming. I’ll let you decide which one applied to me…) We were all giggly. Including the guys, which was rather disconcerting whenever you stopped to think about it. *smirks*