Once upon a time, there was a SPC Schwarz stationed with the Army in the Balkans. SPC Schwarz was either very clever or very bored; but probably both, since he managed to attempt or be warned about 213 things he wasn't allowed to do. He collected those things into a hillarious list and posted them to the web. The site hadn't been updated in a couple of years and has since gone away; but the list is classic, so I saved it. A couple favorites: 2. My proper military title is 'Specialist Schwarz' not 'Princess Anastasia'. and 191. Our Humvees cannot be assembled into a giant battle-robot.
The list:
Not allowed to watch Southpark when I'm supposed to be working.
My proper military title is 'Specialist Schwarz' not 'Princess Anastasia'.
Not allowed to threaten anyone with black magic.
Not allowed to challenge anyone's disbelief of black magic by asking for hair.
Not allowed to get silicone breast implants.
Not allowed to play 'Pulp Fiction' with a suction-cup dart pistol and any officer.
Not allowed to add 'In accordance with the prophesy' to the end of answers I give to a question an officer asks me.
Not allowed to add pictures of officers I don't like to War Criminal posters.
Not allowed to title any product 'Get Over it'.
Not allowed to purchase anyone's soul on Government time.
Not allowed to join the communist party.
Not allowed to join any militia.
Not allowed to form any militia.
Not allowed out of my office when the president visited Sarajevo.
Not allowed to train adopted stray dogs to 'Sic Brass!'
Must get a haircut even if it tampers with my 'Sampson like powers'.
God may not contradict any of my orders.
May no longer perform my now (in)famous 'Barbie Girl Dance' while on duty.
May not call any officers immoral, untrustworthy, lying, slime, even if I'm right.
Must not taunt the French any more.
Must attempt to not antagonize SAS.
Must never call an SAS a 'Wanker'.
Must never ask anyone who outranks me if they've been smoking crack.
Must not tell any officer that I am smarter than they are, especially if it's true.
Never confuse a Dutch soldier for a French one.
Never tell a German soldier that 'We kicked your ass in World War 2!'
Don't tell Princess Di jokes in front of the paras (British Airborne).
Don't take the batteries out of the other soldiers alarm clocks (Even if they do hit snooze about forty times).
The Irish MPs are not after 'Me frosted lucky charms'.
Not allowed to wake an Non-Commission
Not allowed to let sock puppets take responsibility for any of my actions.
Not allowed to let sock puppets take command of my post.
Not allowed to chew gum at formation, unless I brought enough for everybody.
(Next day) Not allowed to chew gum at formation even if I *did* bring enough for everybody.
Not allowed to sing 'High Speed Dirt' by Megadeth during airborne operations. ('See the earth below/Soon to make a crater/Blue sky, black death, I'm off to meet my maker')
Can't have flashbacks to wars I was not in. (The Spanish-Americ
Our medic is called 'Sgt Larwasa', not 'Dr. Feelgood'.
Our supply Sgt is 'Sgt Watkins' not 'Sugar Daddy'.
Not allowed to ask for the day off due to religious purposes, on the basis that the world is going to end, more than once.
I do not have super-powers.
'Keep on Trucking' is *not* a psychological warfare message.
Not allowed to attempt to appeal to mankind's baser instincts in recruitment posters.
Camouflage body paint is not a uniform.
I am not the atheist chaplain.
I am not allowed to 'Go to Bragg boulevard and shake daddies little money maker for twenties stuffed into my undies'.
I am not authorized to fire officers.
I am not a citizen of Texas, and those other, forty-nine, lesser states.
I may not use public masturbation as a tool to demonstrate a flaw in a command decision.
Not allowed to trade military equipment for 'magic beans'.
Not allowed to sell magic beans during duty hours.
Not allowed to quote 'Dr Seuss' on military operations.
Not allowed to yell 'Take that Cobra' at the rifle range.
Not allowed to quote 'Full Metal Jacket ' at the rifle range.
'Napalm sticks to kids' is *not* a motivational phrase.
An order to 'Put Kiwi on my boots' does *not* involve fruit.
An order to 'Make my Boots black and shiny' does not involve electrical tape.
The proper response to a lawful order is not 'Why?'
The following words and phrases may not be used in a cadence- Budding sexuality, necrophilia, I hate everyone in this formation and wish they were dead, sexual lubrication, black earth mother, all Marines are latent homosexuals, Tantric yoga, Gotterdammerun
May not make posters depicting the leadership failings of my chain of command.
'The Giant Space Ants' are not at the top of my chain of command.
If one soldier has a 2nd Lt bar on his uniform, and I have an E-4 on mine It means he outranks me. It does not mean 'I have been promoted three more times than you'.
It is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, no longer applies to Specialist Schwarz.
Command decisions do *not* need to be ratified by a 2/3 majority.
Inflatable novelties do *not* entitle me to BAQ or Separation pay.
There are no evil clowns living under my bed.
There is no 'Anti-Mime' campaign in Bosnia.
I am not the Psychological Warfare Mascot.
I may not line my helmet with tin foil to 'Block out the space mind control lasers'.
May not pretend to be a facist stormtrooper, while on duty.
I am not authorized to prescribe any form of medication.
I must not flaunt my deviances in front of my chain of command.
May not wear gimp mask while on duty.
No military functions are to be performed 'Skyclad'.
Woad is not camouflage makeup.
May not conduct psychological experiments on my chain of command.
"Teddy Bear, Teddy bear, turn around" is *not* a cadence.
The MP checkpoint is not an Imperial Stormtrooper roadblock, so I should not tell them "You don't need to see my identification
I may not call block my chain of command.
I am neither the king nor queen of cheese.
Not allowed to wear a dress to any army functions.
May not bring a drag queen to the battalion formal dance.
May not form any press gangs.
Must not start any SITREP (Situation Report) with "I recently had an experience I just had to write you about...."
Must not use military vehicles to 'Squish' things.
Not allowed to make any Psychological Warfare products depicting the infamous Ft. Bragg sniper incident.
May not challenge anyone in my chain of command to the 'field of honor'.
If the thought of something makes me giggle for longer than 15 seconds, I am to assume that I am not allowed to do it.
Must not refer to 1st Sgt as 'Mom'.
Must not refer to the Commander as 'Dad'.
Inflatable sheep do *not* need to be displayed during a room inspection.
I am not authorized to initiate Jihad.
When asked to give a few words at a military ceremony 'Romper Bomper Stomper Boo' is probably not appropriate.
Nerve gas is not funny.
Crucifixes do not ward off officers, and I should not test that.
I am not in need of a more suitable host body.
'Redneck Zombies' is not a military training aid.
Gozer does not dwell in my refrigerator.
The proper response to a chemical weapon attack is not 'Tell my chain of command what I really think about them, and then poke holes in their masks.'
A smiley face is not used to mark a minefield.
Claymore mines are not filled with yummy candy, and it is wrong to tell new soldiers that they are.
I am not allowed to mount a bayonet on a crew-served weapon.
Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are "casualties of war".
My commander is not old enough to have fought in the civil war, and I should stop implying that he did.
Vodka, green food coloring, and a 'Cool Mint' Listerine® bottle is not a good combination.
I am not allowed to bum cigarettes off of anyone under twelve.
I may not trade my rifle for any of the following: Cigarettes, booze, sexual favors, Kalishnikovs, Soviet Armored vehicles, small children, or bootleg CD.s.
Must not mock command decisions in front of the press.
Should not taunt members of the press, even if they are really fat, exceptionally stupid, and working for UPI.
I am not authorized to change national policy in Eastern Europe.
Never, ever, attempt to correct a Green Beret officer about anything.
I am not qualified to operate any US, German, Polish, or Russian Armored vehicles.
When saluting a 'leg' officer, an appropriate greeting is not "Airborne leads the wa- oh...sorry sir".
There is absolutely no need to emulate the people from 'Full Monty' every time I hear the song "Hot Stuff".
I cannot trade my CO to the Russians.
I should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks me.
Crucifying mice - bad idea.
Must not use government equipment to bootleg pornography.
Burn pits for classified material are not revel fires - therefore it is wrong to dance naked around them.
I cannot arrest children for being rude.
An EO briefing is probably not the best place to unveil my newest off color joke.
I should not use government resources to 'waterproof' dirty magazines.
Radioactive material should not be stored in the barracks.
I should not teach other soldiers to say offensive and crude things in Albanian, under the guise of teaching them how to say potentially useful phrases.
Two drink limit does not mean first and last.
Two drink limit does not mean two kinds of drinks.
Two drink limit does not mean the drinks can be as large as I like.
'No Drinking Of Alcoholic Beverages' does not imply that a Jack Daniel's ® IV is acceptable.
"Shpadoinkle" is not a real word.
The Microsoft ® 'Dancing Paperclip' is not authorized to countermand any orders.
'I'm drunk' is a bad answer to any question posed by my commander.
No dancing in the turret. This especially applies in conjunction with rule #113.
The loudspeaker system is not a forum to voice my ideas.
The loudspeaker system is not to be used to replace the radio.
The loudspeaker system is not to be used to broadcast the soundtrack to a porno movie.
An order to put polish on my boots means the whole boot.
Shouting "Let's do the village! Let's do the whole fucking village!" while out on a mission is bad.
Should not show up at the front gate wearing part of a Russian uniform, messily drunk.
Even if my commander did it.
Must not teach interpreters how to make "MRE" bombs.
I am not authorized to sell mineral rights.
Not allowed to use a broadsword to disprove 'The Pen is Mightier than the sword'.
'Calvin-Ball' is not authorized PT.
I do not need to keep a 'range card' by my window.
'K-Pot, LBE, and a thin coat of Break-free' is not an authorized uniform.
I should not drink three quarts of blue food coloring before a urine test.
Nor should I drink three quarts of red food coloring, and scream during the same.
I should not threaten suicide with pop rocks and Coke ®.
Putting red 'Mike and Ike's' ® into a prescription medicine bottle, and then eating them all in a formation is not funny.
Must not create new DOD forms, then insist they be filled out.
On Sports Day PT, a wedgie is not considered a legal tackle.
The proper way to report to my Commander is 'Specialist Schwarz, reporting as ordered, Sir' not 'You can't prove a thing!'
The following items do not exist: Keys to the Drop Zone, A box of grid squares, blinker fluid, winter air for tires, canopy lights, or Chem-Light ® batteries.
I should not assign new privates to 'guard the flight line'.
Shouldn't treat 'piss-bottles' with extra-strength icy hot.
Teaching Albanian children to taunt other soldiers is not nice.
I will no longer perform 'lap-dances' while in uniform.
If I take the uniform off, in the course of the lap-dance, it still counts.
The revolution is not now.
When detained by MP's, I do not have a right to a strip search.
No part of the military uniform is edible.
Bodychecking General officers is not a good idea.
Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.
Take that hat off.
There is no such thing as a were-virgin.
I do not get 'that time of month'.
No, the pants are not optional.
Not allowed to operate a business out of the barracks.
Especially not a pornographic movie studio.
Not even if they *are* 'especially patriotic films'
Not allowed to 'defect' to OPFOR during training missions.
On training missions, try not to shoot down the General's helicopter.
'A full magazine and some privacy' is not the way to help a potential suicide.
I am not allowed to create new levels of security clearance.
Furby ® is not allowed into classified areas. (I swear to the gods, I did not make that up, it's actually DOD policy).
We do not 'charge into battle, naked, like the Celts'.
Any device that can crawl across the table on medium, does not need to be brought into the office.
I am not to refer to a formation as 'the boxy rectangle thingie'.
I am not 'A lesbian trapped in a man's body'.
On Army documents, my race is not 'Other'.
Nor is it 'Secretariat, in the third'.
Pokémon® trainer is not an MOS.
There is no FM for 'wall-to-wall counseling'.
My chain of command has neither the time, nor the inclination to hear about what I did with six boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups. ®
When operating a military vehicle I may *not* attempt something 'I saw in a cartoon'.
My name is not a killing word.
I am not the Emperor of anything.
Must not taunt officers in the throes of nicotine withdrawal, with cigarettes.
May not challenge officers to 'Meet me on the field of honor, at dawn'.
Do not dare SERE graduates to eat bugs. They will always do it.
Must not make s'mores while on guard duty.
Our Humvees cannot be assembled into a giant battle-robot.
The proper response to a briefing is not 'That's what you think'.
The Masons and Gray Aliens are not in our chain of command.
Shouldn't take incriminating photos of my chain of command.
Shouldn't use Photoshop ® to create incriminating photos of my chain of command.
I am not allowed to give tattoos.
I am not allowed to sing 'Henry the VIII I am' until verse 68 ever again.
Not allowed to lead a 'Coup' during training missions.
I should not confess to crimes that took place before I was born.
My chain of command is not interested in why I 'just happen' to have a kilt, an inflatable sheep, and a box of rubber bands in the back of my car.
Must not valiantly push officers onto hand grenades to save the squad.
Despite the confusing similarity in the names, the "Safety Dance" and the "Safety Briefing" are never to be combined.
'To conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys" is a bad long term goal to give the re-enlistment NCO.
NEVER nail a stuffed bunny to a cross and put it up in front of the Battalion Headquarters sign as an "Easter Desecration."
Don't write up false gigs on a HMMWV PMCS. ("Broken clutch pedal", "Number three turbine has frequent flame-outs", "flux capacitor emits loud whine when engaged")
Not allowed to get shot.
The Chicken and Rice MRE is *not* a personal lubricant. (Skippy wanted this noted for the record that this is not something he has ever attempted or considered! It was something we heard at dinner on 22 September 2001 and it was just so obscene it had to go here.)
Not allowed to play into the deluded fantasies of the civlians who are "hearing conversations" from the NSA, FBI, CIA and KGB due to the microchip the aliens implanted in their brain.
An airsickness bag is to be used for airsickness *only*. (Also not a Skippy-ism...t
Must not make T-shirts up depciting a pig with the writing "Eat Pork or Die" in Arabic to bring as civilian attire when preparing to deploy to a primarily Muslim country.
Don't ask LTC Steele to sign my copy of Blackhawk Down.
Must not go on nine deployments in six years that require a security clearance that I don't have, even if the Army tells me repeatedly that I have one and I have no reason to question them.
Do not convince NCO's that their razorbumps are the result of microscopic parasites.
20 Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity
1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and Point A Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.
2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice.
3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with That.
4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In."
5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks. Once Everyone Has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch To Espresso.
6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write "For Sexual Favors"
7. Finish All Your Sentences With "In Accordance With The Prophecy."
8. Don't Use Any Punctuation
9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.
10. Ask People What Sex They Are. Laugh Hysterically After They Answer.
11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."
12. Sing Along At The Opera.
13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme
14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play Tropical Sounds All Day.
15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood.
16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Hard.
17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won!, I Won!"
18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking Lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"
19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."
And The Final Way To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity......
20. Send This E-mail To Someone To Make Them Smile..Its Called Therapy...
there is no such thing as a happy ending. You live the best you can and it ends as you dying, and dying's almost never happy.
Here we are.
Resting amongst the makings of man
Without the makings of God
A feast of the eye
A feast of the ear
A famine to the rest
Note: this was written whilst watching Empire of the Sun. NOTHING inspires me to write poetry, ever. It's that good.
these are my dream weapons. this one most of all.
http://www.wea
and then the rest, in no order at all.
http://www.wea
http://www.wea
I'm gonna put some of my links here because my lnk sidebar is getting way outta hand.
SO!
Alexandra's Artwork
Fall of the Tirians
Star Wars: Sith Cronicles
Monochue
The story I'm writing for my dad is about a war. There is a planet with a huge diamond and Quaneltz supply. A lot of different species want it. Only there's one small problem; it's already inhabited.
So it's about one race fending off hundreds.
And, personally, I think the summary is much more intriguing than the story itself. But hey, that's just me.
you can see for yourself at Fall of the Tirians.
please note that I am entirely sick and tired of people with usernames like "God of Darkness" or "Lucifer is my boy toy" or "Bloody Suicide". Yes, I know you are allowed to be whatever you feel like being at the moment, and this is a litterally fantastic site, so you are allowed to take on these things, but it REALLY gets on my nerves. I'd say GET A LIFE if that was their only one. so I guess I'm stuck with putting up with this. Ho, hum.
If you can decode this, you are brilliant beyond your time and I shall supply you with an everlasting cookie jar.
K-oy-kcmmio-kg
Tx-bw-rjs-Hxri
Mvv-aqa-ydy-ah
I walk to the kitchen, quiet and composed. Inside, my feelings are crashing against me, battering me to bits, and I try hard to keep the tears from my eyes. No one was in the kitchen, save for the small spider that I could not find, but knew was there. I strode to the counter and bowed my head, allowing my face to contort with pain and sorrow, self-hatred at having to cry over such a little thing.
There was a wooden block of a holder with knife-hilts protruding in neat rows, the highest point of the block holding the larger knives, for cutting roasted meat or some such thing as that, and the lower rows were simply dinner knives, but still sharp. I settled my hand on the first hilt at the top of the block, a single tear rolling down my face as i drew the blade. I stood a moment, my back to the rest of the world, polishing the blade's surface with my finger. It was fat, not very long, and not one of my favorite knives to look at. I replaced it and drew the second.
The knife made no sound as it was released from its wooden sheath, beautiful and straight. It looked exactly like a dagger, save the fact that I knew it was a simple kitchen knife. I smoothed the surface of the blade as more tears fell, but with much time between each droplet. I rolled up my sleeves, bearing my white wrists, pimpled and ugly, with the bright blue vein pulsing beneath the oily skin. I looked at the knife, then at my wrists, then gasped and shoved my sleeves back down at the realization of the thought that had coursed its way through my mind. It wasn't that bad. Life is better than a simple error. I placed the blade back and, swallowing my tears, walked dignified out of the kitchen.
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-depressan
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-alphabetiz
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-gaggin
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 electroencepha
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
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-produc
equally eloquently expressed as...
Blarg. :)
Blarg on the web
Acronym Finder - The Brunching Shuttlecocks' reverse-acrony
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.cly
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 unrighteousnes
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-relate
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