50 Things To Do
  in WAL*MART lmao funny


1. Take shopping carts for the express purpose of filling them and stranding them at strategic locations.
2. Ride those little electronic cars at the front of the store.
3. Set all the alarm clocks to go off at ten-minute intervals throughout the day.
4. Start playing Calvinball; see how many people you can get to join.
5. Contaminate the entire auto department by sampling all the spray air fresheners.
6. Challenge other customers to duels with tubes of gift-wrap.
7. Leave cryptic messages on the typewriters.
8. Re-dress the mannequins as you see fit.
9. When there are people behind you, walk really slowly, especially in thin aisles.
10. Walk up to an employee and tell him in an official tone, "I think we've got a code 3 in housewares," and see what happens.
11. Turn all the radios to polka stations; then turn them off and turn the volume up to full blast.
12. Play with the automatic doors.
13. Walk up to complete strangers and say, "Hi. I haven't seen you in so long." etc. See if they play along.
14. While walking through the clothing department, ask yourself loud enough for all to hear, "Who buys this crap anyway?!"
16. Ride a display bicycle through the store; claim you are taking it for a test drive.
17. Follow people through the aisles, staying about 5 feet behind them. Do this until they leave the store.
18. Play soccer with a group of friends, using the entire store as your playing field.
19. As the cashier runs your purchase over the scanner, look mesmerized and say, "Wow, magic!"
20. Take off your shoes and tell them you want to return it and they say you didn't buy it there say "Hmmmm....I thought the customer was always right!"
22. Set up a tent in the camping department; tell others you will only invite them in if they bring pillows from Bed and Bath.
23. Test the fishing rods and see what you can catch from other aisles.
24. Ask other customers if they have any Grey Poupon.
25. Drape a blanket around your shoulders and run around saying, "I'm Batman. Come Robin, to the Batcave."
26. TP as much of the store as possible.
27. Randomly throw things over into neighboring aisles.
28. Play with the calculators so that they all spell "hello" upside down.
29. When someone asks you if you need help, begin to cry and say, Why won't you people just leave me alone?"
30. When 2 or 3 people are walking ahead of you, run between them yelling "Red Rover."
31. Make up nonsense products and ask employees if there are any in stock. (i.e.: Shnerples)
32. Take up an entire aisle in toys by setting up a full-scale battle with G.I. Joe vs. X-men.
33. Take bets on the battle from above.
34. Test the brushes and combs in cosmetics.
35. While handling guns in the hunting department, suddenly ask the clerk where the anti-depressants are. Act as spastic as possible.
36. Hold indoor shopping cart races.
37. Dart around suspiciously while humming the theme from Mission Impossible.
38. Attempt to fit into very large gym bags.
39. Attempt to fit others into very large gym bags.
40. Say things like, "Would you be so kind as to direct me to your Twinkies."
41. Set up a "Valet Parking" sign in front of the store.
42. Two words: Marco Polo.
43. Leave Cheerios in lawn and garden, pillows in the pet section, etc.
44. "Re-alphabetize" the CD's.
45. In the auto department, practice your Madonna look with various funnels.
46. When someone steps away from his or her cart to look at something, quickly make off with it without saying a word.
48. When an announcement comes over the loudspeaker, drop to your knees and scream, "No, no, its those voices again."
49. Pay off layaways 50 cents at a time.
50. Drag a lounge chair over to the magazines and relax. Go to the food court, buy a drink, and explain that you don't get out much and ask if they can put a little umbrella in it.

this will never ever ever get published by anybody, but I have fun with it.

The Character Healer





My name is Alice, and I am the Character Healer.
It says so on the sign outside of my shop in red letters with a very pretty blue background and a black and yellow border outlining the edges.
I have no problems in life. What I do is I fix the screwed up lives of my patients, so, therefore, I have no life. But occasionally I have very pleasant banters with the Magician next door named Merlyn-poor guy was born backwards in time although he is most interesting. So I visit often with him and his owl Archimedes, who, so far, will not speak when I am near simply because of my cattish appearance. Sometimes he and Merlyn will go into a pool in the forest and deal about a bit of mischief, or tutor random children they come across in the forest…. but a lot of times they will simply sit at home and argue.
Anyway, I am the Character Healer.
And I am incredibly bored.
I'm writing a biography so that the next Character Healer knows what to expect. It's hereditary. (Otherwise there would be no Character Healers-no one in his right mind would take it) Unfortunately, most Character Healers live forever, and you have to admit that's an awfully long time to be bored. But you also have to admit forever doesn't last long, so, seeing that I don't have any children, I think I'll give the title to Schatchaken when I'm sprouting daisies.
Schatch is my cat. Or, rather, an acquaintance who has lived with me all my life. She told me that Schatchaken, which is hard enough to pronounce as it is, is an abbreviation of a name even she can't pronounce. She's actually a white tiger, but I guess she stopped growing when she was a cub-and a good thing, too, because I have neither the room nor the food to sustain a full-grown tiger.
I, myself, am a cat type person with a very long, very bushy, satiny, and very, very black tail. I wrap it around me at night to keep myself warm. The bottom half of my body is completely and 100% Margay* cat. (Do you know how hard it is to walk with reversed knees?) My top looks like it started to transform into the same cat as my bottom but stopped halfway. Schatch has a really good drawing of me that she made. I'll probably put it in sometime.
Supposedly that's how Character Healers are supposed to look like.
This is my random day: get up, get dressed, fix breakfast, eat it, sit at my desk, throw a tennis ball at the wall, fiddle with my Rubik's cube, throw it at the wall, talk to Schatch, ask her to go get my cube, fix lunch, eat it, stare absently into space, throw the tennis ball against the wall some more, go out hiking amongst the pools, go shopping in pathetic village square, go get a coffee at the Sall, go back to shop, invite Merlyn and Archimedes over for dinner, fix dinner, eat it, change, brush my teeth, neaten my tail, go to sleep. Every. Single. Day. SO INCREDIBLY BORING I CANNOT STAND IT SOMETIMES!!!!!
Ahem.
Anyway, this is how my life is. I'll write tomorrow if anything happens (I highly doubt it).






Today Dracula came to get his teeth cleaned. I was nearly hysterical to see him, but I had to wrap my tail round my neck and unfortunately it was a rather hot day. (Safety precautions; can't have him bite me, you know) usually it is very cool in Between but today was horrible. Luckily, I have a cabin off in the woods where I go to spend my summer and winters, because in the winter the snowstorms are so bad no one can ever get to my door in the town.
Most of the Forest In Between the Worlds is just that: forests and glades and pools everywhere. There was a small clearing in the forest and there we built Between, the only town-or sign of any intelligent life forms, for that matter-in FIBTW (pronounced fibtoo, for all who don't know)
Once I spent my summer instead in Narnia, letting Schatch try her hand at Character Healing (which unsettled Robin Redchest visibly). It was during the High King Peter's rule, and I got to stay at Cair Paravel in the most luxurious rooms I have ever seen. Queen Susan said it was out of gratefulness of being the Character Healer, but I still paid for the room, despite their objections. Took all my money and half my savings, it did. I'm not regretting it, though. It was well worth the money, especially for all the hunting trips and fishing cruises I got to go on with them…Narnia is such a pretty place…
Anyway, when I was done checking Dracula's teeth and giving him the lecture that all orthodontists give, we had a lovely chat over tea. We discussed his health and flight patterns for a while, but the topic turned to daily events quite swiftly.
“So, how is the Wolfman these days? I've heard from rumors that he was locked up, but I hardly ever trust rumors…” I sipped my tea, looking at his tired figure. Somehow he still managed to be elegant and well mannered, despite his sleepless state. The bags showed from under his sunglasses (darkened, because of that hypnotic gaze of his), clearly stating he needed to rest.
He sighed. “more like an asylum than a prison. Poor fellow; everyone believed that he was absolutely dotty. He did, too; believe it or not, he was happy when they took him. I don't think he enjoys being feral.”
“I know he doesn't like being feral.” Schatch lapped daintily at her tea, her paws resting on the table. “He doesn't like hurting people at all…and that is all he does when he is in that state. I should know; I'm his therapist.”
I glanced at the time. The clock read 12:36. In about an hour, we would have lunch. I faced my guest. “Care to stay for lunch, Count?”
Dracula sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “I would love to, but it is far past my bedtime and I really must be going.” He stood and tucked in his chair, careful his cloak didn't get caught.
“Shall I walk you to your pool?” I rose with him.
“Thank you, that would be very kind.” He went to the door and I opened it for him. I offered him my arm and he took it, leaning heavily on my forearm. He hobbled out of the town into the woods to the tree and pool labeled correctly Dracula's destination. I slipped a yellow ring onto his hand and he stepped into the shallow pool and disappeared.
Oh, how very desperate I must be to joy at sighting the Count…usually I slightly dread his coming. Anyway, that was the highlight of my day, believe it or not. I'll write later if there's anything else.








Alice came to visit today; she said she had a sprained ankle. (I checked it; it was fine) She lives with the White Rabbit now, amazingly enough. That's probably why she came. The White Rabbit is so obnoxious sometimes…I had to pull a long splinter out gathered he wasn't of his footpaw and he kept on complaining about how late he was to a random party which I don't think he was even invited to in the first place and he kept on kicking, making the procedure go even longer then comfort allowed.
Anyway, Alice is one of my best of friends, despite and possibly because of our names. I love having her around because she is so polite and humorous and simply a delight to be around. To all new story characters: if you are friendless and there isn't a good reason, come to either me or Alice because we are very friendly and would love to have you as a companion.
I met her first when she had trouble going through the Looking-Glass and she called me over to her pool. She had gone through it already more than once and she was having more trouble than usual. I concluded it was because of a chain she was wearing round her neck, and after she took it off, she could go through. We talked a whole bunch and she was really sweet and friendly about the whole thing…


Anyway, back to the present. She came over about 10:30 this morning, leaning on crutches in her fake handicap. I greeted her early and we talked about things over lunch and tea.
“So, how is the Hatter?”
“Ah, he's just as Mad as you left him; he never did get that argument clear with Time. The March Hare is doing just as well, but they seemed to have run out of wine again. The DorMouse is doing fine, despite her annoying habit of falling asleep.”
“Or maybe because?” I sipped my tea, looking over the rim of the cup at Alice. I set it down empty, then asked her, “When you're done, do you want to go to the Square and try to buy a few things? Not much of a choice here in BITW, but hey, at least it's a shopping square.”
“Sure. And then we can drop by your summer home, maybe? I like the things you keep there. It's really pretty.”
“Alright,” I agreed, standing up and pushing in my chair. I walked toward the kitchen, carrying the dishes with me on a small silver platter. “Just let me get my keys,” I called over my shoulder as I went into the kitchen, sliding the dishes in the sink for later. I heard her give a loud groan, and I smiled.
I walked to a closet and opened the door, my tail swishing behind me and collecting all the dust there is on the floor, turning my tail a delicate light gray. The door jingles as the massive amount of keychains that hung on the wood become unsettled. This was only the door. Half of the walls were covered completely head-to-toe in keychains, and I have one for every day for three years. The back of the closet is a whole different story.
You know when you live in an apartment duplex and you lose your keys, you go to the apartment manager to borrow an extra set, right? Well, that's also the Character Healer's job. The back of the closet is covered more completely in key-hooks and keys than I have keychains, and that says something. Fortunately, the back goes on for eternity, so there is room for every key in every story for every world in every pond, not to mention everyone in BITW's keys.
I picked up my house key, which, fortunately, I remembered to put back on the furthest hook, and picked a silver and black dolphin key chain to go with it. I put the keychain on and closed the door, stuffing the key into my pocket and grabbing my purse while absentmindedly picking dust and soot out of my tail fur.
I found Alice in the living room, leaning against the doorframe and twirling a lock of her hair with one finger. She stands straight and opens the door and we walk out.
“You have money, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, enough.”
I smiled and walked out the door, my purse swinging on my arm. We chatted pleasantly and Alice convinced me into buying a red silk blouse with beautiful silver sequins that cost much more than it should. We dropped by my cottage in the woods and swam a bit in the lake, but soon went back to the shop in town to set our things down. Along the way back, she asked me if she could stay over at my place, and of course I said yes. She's sleeping in my bed at the moment in the weirdest position I have ever seen. Luckily, my quill pen doesn't make much noise on the paper, but it keeps running out of ink and taking the longest time to write a sentence. Ho, hum.
Anyway, I have to get some sleep. It's getting way too late for me, and my yawns are stopping me from writing. Until next time,
--Alice






Well, about two weeks have gone by since I wrote last, but I would like to put down for the record that today I solved my rubix cube 6 times in a row. I thought it would be semi-important.
Until further notice, I remain
--Alice



Aha! I've finally gotten myself a typewriter! As if I'll ever use it…it'll more than likely just sit and rust in an unknown corner of my shop and never be used. Ho, hum; such is life, I guess.

One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting. "Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me a trap used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"


"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.


Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"


"And what will you do when you get done with them?" Jesus asked.


"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.


"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.


"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you!! You don't want those people!!"


"How much?" He asked again.


Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your tears, and all your blood."


Jesus said, "DONE!" Then He paid the price.


Isn't it funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.


Isn't it funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.


Isn't it funny how everyone wants to go to heaven provided they do not have to believe, think, say, or do anything the Bible says. Or is it scary?


Isn't it funny how someone can say "I believe in God" but still follow Satan (who, by the way, also "believes" in God ).


Isn't it funny how you can send a thousand jokes through e-mail and! they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.


Isn't it funny how the lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but the public discussion of Jesus is suppressed in the school and workplace.


Isn't it funny how someone can be so fired up for Christ on Sunday, but be invisible to their religion the rest of the week.


Are you laughing?


Isn't it funny how when you go to forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it to them.


Isn't it funny how I can be more worried about what other people think of me than what God thinks of me.


Will YOU pass this on? .... I did

Dart Test...

 THIS IS A POWERFUL MESSAGE. PLEASE READ ALL OF IT. I AM PASSING IT ON BECAUSE I AM CERTAINLY NOT ASHAMED TO DO SO.



In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke, it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking..............


Dart Test...


 A young lady named Sally, relates an experience she had in a seminary class, given by her teacher, Dr. Smith. She says that Dr. Smithwas known for his elaborate object lessons.


 One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they were in for a fun day.


 On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts. Dr. Smithtold the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts at the person's picture.


 Sally's friend drew a picture of who had stolen her boyfriend. Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she had achieved.


 The class lined up and began throwing darts. Some of the students threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart. Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when Dr. Smith, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their seats. As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn't have a chance to throw any darts at her target. Dr. Smithbegan removing the target from the wall.


 Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus. A hush fell over the room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus; holes and jagged marks covered His face and His eyes were pierced.


 Dr. Smithsaid only these words... "In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
 Matthew 25:40.


 No other words were necessary; the tears filled eyes of the students focused only on the picture of Christ.


 This is an easy test; you score 100 or zero. It's your choice.


 If you aren't ashamed to do this, please follow the directions.


 Jesus said, "If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you, before My Father."


 Not ashamed ... pass this on.


 Ashamed ... delete it.

Blarg.
What is Blarg?
Definition: blarg (blarg) interj. [Eng blah + erg] used to express aggressive feelings of discontent (see erg) when no other words will. Often indicates that the speaker does not feel able to handle the circumstances which prompted him to say the word in the first place.[Upon realizing he had two tests that day and was very ill, Joey simply shouted, "Blarg!"]
Note! Not the one true blarg. Just what Todd thinks it is.

I am often asked to explain what blarg means, since it's on my license plate. I often refuse, sometimes accompanied with maniacal laughter and pretend-gagging sounds. Then I'm generally beaten into submission with this big fake arm I have lying around, that I stole from a department store once in 1993. Sometime later I regain consciousness and tell them to check out this website, which is rather weird because until just now, this website didn't exist! But at least it gets them off my back. OK anyway, here's a somewhat valid attempt.

Blarg is a word commonly used to express disgust with a particular topic. Thus:
1: What do you think about this new TV show?
2: Blarg.
See how perfectly that sums it up? Try another example:
1: Life...
2: Blarg.
Couldn't have said it better myself. Blarg is also used when you haven't a clue what someone is talking about.
1: Don't you agree that cohesive training for the edification of future electroencephalographics technologists is a must in today's sesqui-unforeseen workforce?
2: Blarg.
Blarg can also be used to express disinterest. Example:
1: How do you feel about coming into work an hour early today?
2: Blarg.
And if you're still not convinced that blarg is one of the most versatile words of all time, read this short snip from my e-mail:

> > > The whole blarg thing is getting tired:
> > Blarg. Well, it's so cool for replacing whole paragraphs of whining,
> > self-pity, and ... yeah.

What's the matter, do you have something against the word blarg? A fan of
verbosity perhaps? I was only thinking of internet bandwidth requirements,
you do realise. Every byte I have to send has to wing its way across the
world. The less I send, the less bandwidth is required, so the less power is
consumed, so the more the environment is saved. Then there's my keyboard.
The more keystrokes I have to issue, the sooner I'll need to dispose of this
keyboard and buy a new one, and it's plastic, and that's harsh on the
environment. Then there's my fingers/wrists, I don't particularly want to
develop RSI or Carpel Tunnel. Then there's your precious reading time. I can
imagine the more I write the less work you can get done, which is
counter-productive. Especially when this entire paragraph could have been
equally eloquently expressed as...

Blarg. :)


Blarg on the web

Acronym Finder - The Brunching Shuttlecocks' reverse-acronym-engineering CGI attempts to find meaning in blarg.
What does 'blarg' mean? - Jeeves is stumped.
Laura's Waste of Space - Apparently, even weird play-doh people are 'blarg' as well.
Blarg - A single page summary of the author's lif... existence.
Blarg's Homework Help - Promises homework help chat and Renault car pictures, but, the creator of the page seems to be worthless. Blarg.

(found at: http://www.clydenc.org/newwave/blarg.html)

1 Corinthians 13(whole chapter)
the way I will try to live my life:


If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels,
but do not have love,
I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophecy,
and know all mysteries and all knowledge;
and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains,
but do not have love,
I am nothing.
And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor,
and if I surrender my body to be burned,
but do not have love,
it profits me nothing.

Love is patient,
love is kind and is not jealous;
love does not brag and is not arrogant,
does not act unbecomingly;
it does not seek its own,
is not provoked,
does not take into account a wrong suffered,
does not rejoice in unrighteousness,
but rejoices with the truth;
bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.

Love never fails;
but if there are gifts of prophecy,
they will be done away;
if there are tongues,
they will cease;
if there is knowledge, it will be done away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part;
but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away.
When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child;
when I became a man, I did away with childish things.
For now we see in a mirror dimly,
but then face to face;
now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.
But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Not to be outdone by all the redneck, hillbilly, & Texan jokes, You know you're in California when...

1. Your coworker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.

2. You make over $300,000 and still can't afford a house.

3. You take a bus and are shocked at two people carrying on a conversation in English.

4. Your child's 3rd grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring, and is named Breeze.

5. You can't remember.... Is pot illegal?

6. You've been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.

7. You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown, and you can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian.

8. You know which restaurant serves the freshest arugula.

9. You can't remember.... Is pot illegal?

10. A really great parking space can totally move you to tears.

11. A low speed police pursuit will interrupt ANY TV broadcast.

12. Gas costs $1.00 per gallon more than anywhere else in the US

13. A man gets on the bus in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps. You don't even notice.

14. Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30am at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney really IS George Clooney.

15. Your car insurance costs as much as your house payment.

16. Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is into S & M, and your Mary Kay rep is a guy in drag.

17. You can't remember.... Is pot illegal?

18. Its barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station "STORM WATCH 2004."

19. You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Banks himself is teaching the 4:00pm Tae Bo class.

20. You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cells or pagers.

21. It's barely sprinkling rain outside, so you leave for work an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents.

22. Hey!!!! Is Pot Illegal????

23. Both you AND your dog have therapists.

24. The Terminator is your new Governor.

and now, for the freaky dull annoying 2-minute version. *mutters darkly*
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS
(Walks in; looks at audience. Smiles.)
MARY: Ah! I see the stage has been set, the props placed, and now high time to introduce the characters. May I present to you, (gives a small bow and fits the crown to her head) Mary Stuart: Queen of Scots.
My history? Let's see...I was born on December 8, 1542 in the palace of Linlithgow overlooking the loch. I was seperated from my mother much of the time, and raised in France. By the time I was able to go back home to Scots I had the cunning of the French and English courts and the common sense inherited by any born of Scottish blood. My country welcomed me with enthusiasm and happiness, overjoyed to have their queen on her throne. I ruled justly and fairly until I met a young man by the name of Henry Stewart, otherwise known as Lord Darnley. We fell in love, and, though my cousin, Queen Mary Elizabeth Tudor of England and the Prodestants rose violently against this proposal, I overcame them and we were married. Nought but months later, I found myself doubting the wisdom of such an arrangement as well. We had a son; James. While he was still an infant, I took him out of his father's care and only a few days later he was strangled to death and his house blown to bits by gunpowder. An extremely fast exit for THAT role!(grins)
One of my subjects by the name of Bothwell was accused of the murder, but somehow was proven innocent. Then he forced me off to be married to me and divorced his own wife to do it. Only a month later the same group who had risen against me in the marriage of Darnley met the two of us at Carnberry hill. Bothwell escaped free, but I surrendered under the condition that I was to be treated like a queen, and the exact opposite treatment was brought to me. This proved to be a blessing in disguise, as it brought sympathy to my cause. I was transported from prison to prison before my COUSIN the Queen of England(now commonly referred to as Bloody Mary) decided to kill a highly-placed queen in private. The axeman swung and MISSED, hitting the back of my head, and was still alive after that. He pulled it out and tried again, and his aim was true,missing only a sinew, and the axe was used as a saw to cut it off. I died a shameful death, with my lips still moving until an hour after my death, on Wednesday , February 8, 1587.
The curtains close, the makeup's off, and the playhouse has made quite a profit. Goodnight, everyone! (bows; leaves stage)

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS
(Walks in; looks at audience. Smiles.)
MARY: Oh, hello there. You bein' executed as well? huh. wonder what ye did. mayhap ye did nothing, (puts on airs and doffs the rotten crown she has in her hand) and my dear Queen Mary Elizabeth Tudor of England(drops airs) decided to send you to your death because of rumors she heard in court.(takes off crown and examines it from a distance) Of course, who am I to talk? (cynical and bitter)I am just a simple dead queen, nothing more. (takes the crown in one hand and they both drop to her side; looks away) A hated and despised queen, at that. One of the only queens of her country, and for a while, her people loved her. May I present to you, (gives a small bow and fits the crown to her head) Mary Stuart: Queen of Scots.
My death they did mourn well, I see. an agent for my dear son James had sent a peice of hemp tied like a halter to England, with this little witty poem attached to it:
To Jezabel that English whore
Receive this Scottish chain
A presage of her great malheur
for murdering our Queen.
(chuckles softly) rather funny, in a dark kind of way. It makes one proud to see one's country's enthusiasm at one's coming and greif over one's going. They took such pride in me when I came to Scotland! I'd kept my childhood in France, however, although I AM Scot-bred. They welcomed me with such open arms and enthusiasm!
Sadly, that did not last very long. I fell in love with a certain man named Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley. Unlike the rest, he had no beard, and people wondered how I had become so smitten over him. My cousin, Queen Elizabeth of England, and the Prodestants all rose up against this marriage, seeing it as unwise, but I was victorious over them.(sighs regretfully) We were married, and I began to doubt this action as well. The country hated that I had seemingly forgotten about them during the life of my blind love for him, and they were right to be angry with me. huh.
We had a son; James. A few years after his birth, Darnely was strangled to death in his own house and the house itself blasted into a thousand peices by gunpowder.(smirks) ironic, in a twisted sort of way, don't you think?
Bothwell, a subject under my rule with a considerable bit of power, was blamed for the murder. He was proved innocent and forced me to marry him. (loudly and bitterly)My god! Was I really this weak? And he was married already! he divorced to marry me, and for what, power. It's always about power.
(sighs) Only a month later, the lords who had risen against me when I decided to marry Darnely met Bothwell and me at Carberry hill. Bothwell escaped, but I surrendered under the condition that I was to be treated as a queen. I was instead handled with violence and immured to Lochleven Castle. This horrible treatment actually was a blessing in disguise; it brought sympathy to my cause. I was judged unfairly for the death of Darnley, which, in fact, was Bothwell's doing. Accused of this, I was transported across Europe to several jailor's homes(cynical) by my dear cousin, Queen Mary Elizabeth. I've exchanged letters with her before this, and we were quite fond towards each other, but now for some reason she hates me.
The people saw it as unjust, but she IS the queen. Sometimes my captivity was more pleasant than other times. There were riots for my cause, and I am very proud to say that. Near one of my jailor's villages, I gave a nearly naked woman a dress. This sent me to be locked up in the castle with no communications to the outside. I told them, "You are afraid that my giving alms will gain the favor of the people. You should be afraid that keeping me from giving alms will rally them against you."(smiles) that surprised them a little. Every time the queen heard of my well-being, she sent angry news to the jailor and I was locked up once again.
(bitter)Elizabeth set a date for my execution, and I was, and still am, horrified to know that she intended to do it in secret. The death of a queen! I was to be killed by way of the axeman. They called me Mary Stuart, COMMONLY CALLED Queen of Scotland! (horrified and angry snort)
The axeman's aim was to be questioned, for sure. I repeated the words Jesus did before he died in front of the block three or four times: "Father, I give you my spirit." I set my neck down on the block, staring into the basket and the executioner's axe fell on the back of my head instead of my neck, right(points to the back of her head) here. Mind you, was still alive. He tried again and with the help of his assistant got the axe out and this time his aim was true, and there(points) lies my body. My head is in that basket, its eyes closed as mine were when it was dismembered from the rest of my body.
(looks another way and points) look there; the axeman comes now, his killing blade cleaned, and the apprentice moves to empty the basket. (nods towards audience) for you. (Turns and goes Down Stage, to Right; looks back and points) I'll see you soon.

Performed this in English. Didn't get no applause, either. Bloody....

Anyway, we were sposed to do a 2-minute report, and this one ran for about five....my teacher let me do a minute over, but it didn't fit it all at ALL.

Just as we see, half rosy and half white
Dawn and the morning star dispel the night
in beauty thus beyond compare impearled
the queen of scotland rises on the world

A strange poem that kinda wormed its way out. Very queer thing. I was having a good day, too.


Search my soul
Let me go
As I fall into oblivion

Sweet ignorance
Envelopes my mind
And shows me things beyond imagination

Do not die
For I am me
Let me be
In my sweet indecision


I like my death
It's sweetly familiar
Don't take him away
I love my death

Boom, cargo
Insanity reigns
Don't step behind the rainbow


For you'll fall
Too


Do not die
For I am me
Let me be
In my sweet indicision

I like my death
It's sweetly familiar
Don't take him away
Lest he come to you willingly

Killed.

Knocked out into the burning sun
By my own brother
my remains bearing a message
of cruelty and dishonor
as I was slain by the sun
killed by my brother
in cold blood as he whispered in my ear:
Death..
And my mother did nothing but watch.


(an ode to those Booby's(calm down, guys, they're birds) on the Galapagos Islands that are killed every day by their own fellow offspring--siblicide--while their parents watch on.)

RANCOR


Tick, tock
Rancor's clock
tick, tock, click, clock
nick, nock, pick-pock,
shick, shock, Sith's clock,
nick, niggen, get diggen,
tisk-missin, John Lennon,
mock, chock
click, clock
tick, tock.

You enter and see a malfunctioning toaster oven holding a butcher knife. No, I’m just kidding, no, don’t go away! Okay, so this is a summary of my life. In other words, an essay about me. Are you sure you want to read this? Alright, but be warned—I am about as weird as they come. My world revolves chiefly around art and God, so do not be surprised to see these two everywhere there is space. Alright, let us begin the torture!



My life? You want to know about MY life? It isn’t nearly as interesting as my character history—very well, we shall begin. Well, I was born in Raleigh, North Carolina. At age one, my family moved to California. My brother was three. I grew up in a duplex next to a family of Latinos. They moved out when I was about four, and then my father met another writer named Jane Landis. She lived in Ohio; when I was seven she moved into the empty duplex beside us. She got her first hamster when I was six or so, and the number of hamsters she has owned, whether at the moment they are dead or alive, is well over 50. I went to school at age six (naturally, it being the law) and moved from Nora Sterry to Richland to Braddock until I went to a middle school called Palms. At age 7, I began to write. Not as in write an essay, as I am doing now; but actually write a story. The story I began with morphed into a novel, which has not been finished after five years. The main character is derived from a picture I did of a Jabberwocky in….3rd grade? I don’t remember…anyway, it has gone through a lot of changes and I have finally thought up a title for it: The Fall of the Tirians. My life is not at all interesting so I will speak of my arts in all ways.. one of my nicknames is Rosinbreaker…I shall tell you that I was in beginning strings last year and I played the cello…and a friend slapped that name on me….for obvious reasons, I think….* I had classes for sculpting with clay when I was six or seven at Stoner park. It lasted for a very short period of time, the class being free and, naturally, not getting any profits from it. So now they have these messed-up classes that are at least forty dollars apiece! Not even worth it… When I went to the “Equine Affaire”, I saw this huge life-sized figure of a horse running next to a foal, nostrils wide but not exhausted, proportions perfect---and all sculpted straight from wire. I met the artist there. Her name was Esther Benedict, and she has a small ranch in Texas that she works on her art. She is a wonderful artist and one of my heroes—she knows and remembers me and I have sent her letters on how to do this and when to do that… Anyway, I had her card in a little suitcase on my key chains, but that got stolen, I guess. Oh. The key chains. I assume you want to know more about what is up with that miscellaneous jumble of assortments at my side every day. What can I say? Someone gave me some key chains and I went from there.

*You use rosin when you play the cello. It goes on the bowstring to make it sound less scratchy. I broke the cello rosin, thus, the name.

Alexandra Reneau\Period 5\8-04-03

And you wish to see me now, as well. Here I am: An occupant of a duplex, living with her brother and mother, with her father and soon-to-be step-mom living with 37 small rodents next-door to her. She is a gamer of all sorts, a fan of Role-Playing Games (R.P.G.S) and R.T.S.’s (real time strategy). She is an artist, of sorts—not a very good one, mind you, but getting there. She is still writing those books and still not done with any of them. She is a student of Palms Middle School, a horrible writer (in all matters), and a MAJOR doodler in ALL WAYS. Hardly a week goes by without someone asking, “Are you a girl or a boy?”, but I am shocked and surprised to report that no one—I repeat, NO ONE—has asked this whole week! Wow…that deserves pizza! If Star Wars were real (and all of the characters still alive) I would be the Sith* apprentice of Darth Vader. I have memorized the last part of the fifth Star Wars episode and will recite it upon questioning…yes, I know, it is absolutely pathetic, but that is me. I am very silly. Do not expect less. I am an adequate musician at the cello, but now that I am in Orchestra there are so many people who are far better than I. I have only practiced twice last summer, therefore I stink at playing the cello now. I have started playing the harp, which has been my lifelong dream, and now own a small Celtic Folk harp that is gathering dust in the corner. I have an overactive imagination, and one of my favorite hobbies is staring absently into space. Have I missed anything? Oh. And I love emoticons. ^.^ *_* T_T J L :’-( ;-) ;-( ;-9 :-p ~:-) >:-( >:-) :-D O.O >.< x.x @.@ A.A $.$ X) XD XP <(-.-<)KIRBY!

*Sith: Dark Side version of Jedi



Oh, so now you want to know about my FUTURE? Noisy little person, aren’t you? Nah, I kid. Okay, let’s take a look into the future….let me go get my crystal ball…

ZAP!!

Okay, we’re here! Looks like I will go to an art-based high school and take a course in graphics designing over the summer…oh, this is interesting, look, I’ll get into an art college and take…two years graphics design and two years art? I guess so. What else is here? Ah. As soon as I leave college I’ll take yet another course in graphics design, and, if I’m good enough, oh, look, I’ll either get a job at Blizzard* or Ghost Town Games**, if it’s up by then. Oh, and I’ll be living with friends until I move out into…an apartment for probably the rest of my life. I see that I will have an art shop online and anywhere it will sell, it seems. I can’t see the name of it, though. I guess that’s okay. Something foggy around the marriage idea though…I can’t see if I find the right guy or not. That’s okay, I’m just as happy single. That’s about all I can see right now.


POOF!!


*Blizzard is a really high-class graphics company for games. It is the best graphics designing company for games in the business. Take a look at Halflife 2 coming out—it’s fantastic, the people smile at you during the game, and it looks real enough to touch. It’s creepy. ^.^
**Ghost Town Games is the company name that my brother figured out. He says he’ll have it up and running someday….^.-

So this is it. You have read me. How depressing. I am something to be read, nothing more than a few pages of insignificant information. I am an ‘it’, a furnishing, a chair or a table you step on and disregard of any importance. Something man-made, perhaps molded to believe in a fake reality that my looks are all that matter, that immorality is the only way to live life. What is reality? Certainly not this insignificant lie we call daily life, the things we hold dear, surely those cannot have any meaning when it comes to eternity! Man is a wildflower in the rain; easily wiped out, quickly disregarded in the records of time. But, in the end, is that really as bad as it sounds? I for one would not want to be known as a girl who had disregarded the miracles so obviously placed before her and instead strived for a less-valued thing far out of sight. If that is me, I would prefer not to have a place in history at all! But then I forget that eternity not only reaches into the depths of the future, but into the past as well. It is a hard concept to grasp, an eternity behind us. And I wonder, what would I have done with that time? Perhaps use it to study life, to watch it evolve, then vanish as another takes its place as easily as the first came about! Yes, I believe in evolution—provided it is guided evolution. The theory by itself does not hold water but for a small contained area, as Charles Darwin’s studies are based on.
If I have shown you nothing in this, leave with the knowledge that life is short. Live it to the utmost.


Alexandra Reneau
Period 5
9/10/03


My essay...enjoy!^^

::falls over laughing, tears streaming::

oh..oh...I forgot how much I love this movie...oh...GO AND RENT THE COURT JESTER NOWWW!!!

::gasps for air::

whew.....oh, man, that's hilarious, man....oh...

::looks at the tv playing Star Trek suspiciously::

I dunno about this, Mom....looks pretty bad ta me....

Have all of my dedicated fans noticed that I DON'T LIKE STAR TREK...okay, so maybe this will change my mind but I DOUBT THAT HIGHLY...::looks at tv suspiciously again:: I don't like this...

okay, so SO FAR, this movie has NOT done anything to change my opinion on this...

Okay, so i don't know about you, but i think that america's lifeblood of its society is entertainment.at least, cali is...
If you took away everything dealing with entertainment, the society would not be crippled, it would be destroyed. I am totaly serious here. It's getting on my nerves. Every five minutes a new movie comes out. the bilboards are never empty, but if they are, they are being prepred to put up a movie ad.Yes, I know, movies and shows and tv are fun, but come on, now!and every five seconds there's a new sitcom on tv!WILL IT NEVER CEASE???
no, I'm serious, this is making me sick! I mean, if someone asks you at skool did you see that show last night and you say no, I don't watch tv you are automatically signed up as a candidate for class freak.
sigh....
Okay, I think I'm done lecturing...sorry....okay, gbye!

a-doo, doooo.....a-doo, doooo...

The Sun was shining on the sea
shining with all his might
he did his very best to make
the billows smooth and bright;
and this was odd because it was
the middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
because she thought the Sun
had got no business being there
after the day was done;
"Tis Rude of him,"she thought,
"to come and spoil the fun."

The walrus and the carpenter
were walking close at hand;
they wept like anything to see
such quantities of sand;
"If this was all swept away,"They said,
"it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
swept for half a year"---

arg, can't remember it all, dammit!!I wonder if anyone actually reads these. I doubt it. if they read the poems--even LESS likely---and *gasp* comment on them(they must be related to me)that would be so shocking I doubt my heart would take it and fail and I would be dead right there on the spot. but hey, I died in 3rd grade, so I don't think I have to worry too much bout that...ARGARGARGMATEY!i'm a pirate who can't type!!lol!!!

Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

I like that movie and I also like the book....

did you know that the toaster has to be plugged in to work?