Well, I have been testing out my green-thumb potential for the past week or so.
I hope it proves to be high.
Last Saturday, my aunt and I cleaned out an old flower bed, and planted some daisies in it. I obsessed over it for the past week, pulling weeds and putting up a wire fence around it.
Then, yesterday, she came over with a bunch of plants (presumably from a grocery or hardware store greenhouse), potting soil, and Appalachian brown mulch. We made two other flower beds in front of the house, on either side of the front door. We planted purple and red verbenas, red dianthus, and some violets in those. Then, she planted lamb's ear and violets in an old flowerbed. In the old one we "renovated last week, I planted one orange gazania and one purple verbena, along with three lavender plants.
Today, I planted a bunch of gazanias in an "extension" of the flowerbeds we made yesterday. I also planted some verbena and gazanias in with the lamb's ear, and a strawflower plant. I put a mixture of red and brown mulch in the flowerbeds by the porch, red in the one behind the house and red in the old one. It really looks nice.
Sometime later I am planning on planting some marigolds, too. And hopefully sometime this week, I will plant some cosmos near the house. I can't wait to get started on another little project. It really is fun, now that I actually have a place outside to plant things at.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Mister, Sir
The man said nothing when he came in, just walked over to the jukebox, threw in a quarter and punched some numbers in.
Then he walked over to the bar.
Then "Southbound Suarez" by Led Zeppelin began to play. A younger girl sitting close to the door groaned. Fritz had forgotten that record was even in the juke.
The man sat down.
"Well, Mister, what'll you have tonight?"
"A cup of coffee, two shots of bourbon and a spoonful of brown sugar."
The man's voice was surprisingly pleasant to the ears, with a slight southern accent.
Fritz fetched the man's odd order and then went to see about another patron.
Jordan watched the man in the purple hat, sitting at the bar with his head bent over a coffee. He lifted a shot glass to his mouth, paused then picked up a spoon of what appeared to be brown sugar. He licked it and then tossed back the bourbon. He then took a swig of piping hot coffee.
Jordan had seen the man before.
He had a bad feeling about that man.
He walked over to that man.
"Hiya, sir. I just wanted to meetcha, since this is a small town and an unfamiliar face rarely goes unnoticed," Jordan said in as friendly a voice as he could muster.
"Mm-hm."
"Well, where are you from?" Jordan could not see the man's face very well. He didn't know what he made of his earlier greeting.
"Are you not even going to introduce yourself, Jordan?" Jordan recoiled a bit and the man smiled. "You know, I'm not as unfamiliar to this town as you seem to think."
"Well, I never saw you before but once," Jordan said.
"Oh, I've been around more than once. I just might have looked a little different."
Jordan was growing increasingly uneasy.
"Well, Mister, I best get going. I gotta get home or the wife'll have my ass."
"Oh, no she won't. You are just being evasive because I make you uncomfortable. It's okay.
That's how many of your kind react to many of my kind. You just go on ahead and leave."
Jordan planned to do exactly that. He walked out to his truck and tried to start it. It just made a nice, raspy coughing sound. He waited. It was old; sometimes this happened.
The man in the bar finished his bourbon, coffee, and sugar. He headed to the bathroom. No one made much of it.
Jordan still sat outside in the truck, trying to get it to start. He climbed out to look under the hood.
The man walked out of the bathroom, toward the outside door, opened it. The groaning girl by the door noticed that he looked a little different. Less human.
Jordan was still outside, but he had just hopped back into the truck and gotten it started.
An old man with fiery, sunken eyes and hands that looked like claws stepped out of the bar, a terrible, blood-curdling grin on his mummy-face.
Jordan shoved the truck into reverse and sped out of the parking lot and down the road. When he looked into the rear view mirror, he saw the bar explode. The old man was nowhere to be seen.
Then he walked over to the bar.
Then "Southbound Suarez" by Led Zeppelin began to play. A younger girl sitting close to the door groaned. Fritz had forgotten that record was even in the juke.
The man sat down.
"Well, Mister, what'll you have tonight?"
"A cup of coffee, two shots of bourbon and a spoonful of brown sugar."
The man's voice was surprisingly pleasant to the ears, with a slight southern accent.
Fritz fetched the man's odd order and then went to see about another patron.
Jordan watched the man in the purple hat, sitting at the bar with his head bent over a coffee. He lifted a shot glass to his mouth, paused then picked up a spoon of what appeared to be brown sugar. He licked it and then tossed back the bourbon. He then took a swig of piping hot coffee.
Jordan had seen the man before.
He had a bad feeling about that man.
He walked over to that man.
"Hiya, sir. I just wanted to meetcha, since this is a small town and an unfamiliar face rarely goes unnoticed," Jordan said in as friendly a voice as he could muster.
"Mm-hm."
"Well, where are you from?" Jordan could not see the man's face very well. He didn't know what he made of his earlier greeting.
"Are you not even going to introduce yourself, Jordan?" Jordan recoiled a bit and the man smiled. "You know, I'm not as unfamiliar to this town as you seem to think."
"Well, I never saw you before but once," Jordan said.
"Oh, I've been around more than once. I just might have looked a little different."
Jordan was growing increasingly uneasy.
"Well, Mister, I best get going. I gotta get home or the wife'll have my ass."
"Oh, no she won't. You are just being evasive because I make you uncomfortable. It's okay.
That's how many of your kind react to many of my kind. You just go on ahead and leave."
Jordan planned to do exactly that. He walked out to his truck and tried to start it. It just made a nice, raspy coughing sound. He waited. It was old; sometimes this happened.
The man in the bar finished his bourbon, coffee, and sugar. He headed to the bathroom. No one made much of it.
Jordan still sat outside in the truck, trying to get it to start. He climbed out to look under the hood.
The man walked out of the bathroom, toward the outside door, opened it. The groaning girl by the door noticed that he looked a little different. Less human.
Jordan was still outside, but he had just hopped back into the truck and gotten it started.
An old man with fiery, sunken eyes and hands that looked like claws stepped out of the bar, a terrible, blood-curdling grin on his mummy-face.
Jordan shoved the truck into reverse and sped out of the parking lot and down the road. When he looked into the rear view mirror, he saw the bar explode. The old man was nowhere to be seen.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Something Nice
Have you ever had someone in your life that you know you just can't live without? It doesn't have to be Mother or anyone in particular. Just someone who brightens your day the second you see them, or hear their voice.
I'll tell you a little about my "someone." He is so sweet and cute, and does these things that he thinks are just run-of-the-mill, but which are really quite endearing. He thinks so little of himself, but I think so much of him. We might fight and we might fuss sometimes, but we both know it's not a reflection of how we really feel about one another. I hope he is reading this, and I hope it makes him feel better, because he's been having a rough go of it lately. :) Hopefully he will get the message-I love, love, LOVE him!!!
I'll tell you a little about my "someone." He is so sweet and cute, and does these things that he thinks are just run-of-the-mill, but which are really quite endearing. He thinks so little of himself, but I think so much of him. We might fight and we might fuss sometimes, but we both know it's not a reflection of how we really feel about one another. I hope he is reading this, and I hope it makes him feel better, because he's been having a rough go of it lately. :) Hopefully he will get the message-I love, love, LOVE him!!!
Monday, March 7, 2011
The Underworld
The light was dim, as it always was. They heard a grinding, awful noise coming from above. The Dagdols ran. Parts of the Roof fell. They crumbled and landed in Mattie Dagdol's grey hair. She did not panic. Things like this had happened before, although not very often. Once, when she was a child, it had happened. She had panicked, as the others were now. The second time she saw something like this was when she was a bit older, newly married, and had just given birth to her first child. Even if she had wanted to panic then, she would have been much too tired.
Janina Dagdol cried, reaching for her grandmother. Mattie picked her up gently and rocked her, murmuring forgettable words of comfort all the while. The Roof continued to crumble. Children continued to cry. Most of the people in the Tunnel had never seen anything like this before. Mattie was of a rare group. She was the oldest in her Tunnel, but word had spread from other communities within the World that there was a man in Rogadoff that was twixt her age.
Jorga held her children close to her. They were very unnerved by the bizarre happenings around them. Her husband, Harve, had left to ask Mattie Dagdol, the Tunnel's oldest and wisest inhabitant, what was going on. Shortly, he returned, with a small grain of comfort for his wife and children.
"Mrs. Dagdol says that she has seen things of this kind two times past. She says that both those times, the Crumbling did not last as long as this, but that it was just as frightening. She said not to worry, as long as it stops shortly, but that if it keeps up doing this, then we should get a hold of the Overworlder Patrol immediately to find out what is happening Above." Harve was out of breath from his report. Jorga looked at him frightenedly.
"Harve, what exactly does the Overworlder Patrol do? No one ever speaks of it."
Harve gave it some thought. "I don't rightly know, love. Would you like me to go ask Miss Mattie?"
"No. We need to find something for the kids to do, though, to get their minds off of this for at least a while."
Jorga and Harve took their children inside, where they could hear the sounds of the Roof falling on the roof of their dwelling. Jorga prepared a meagre supper for Harve and the kids, while he entertained them with a story about a troll.
Mattie was still holding her orphaned granddaughter, sitting on the porch of her dwelling when a huge stone fell from the Roof. Janina whimpered.
"Shh... It'll be alright Janina. It will stop soon and everything will be okay."
Janina looked up at her and a tear escaped her eye; her look of sadness was quickly replaced with one of innocent inquisitiveness which seemingly only children, the extremely old, and the dumb can so perfectly display.
"Gramma, what did Mister Harve Griswell want? What did you mean when you were talking about the Overworld Patrol and the Crumbling and all?"
"Janina,please don't worry about all that now."
"Please just tell me. I won't ever ask you about adult matters again until five years hence."
Mattie chuckled softly. "Why five years hence?"
"That's when Wellie Griswell told me I would be a grown-up. He says that that is when his daddy was a grown-up."
"I'm sure his daddy was indeed a grown-up when he was only fifteen, but times have changed and now you, my dear, have about seven years before you are a grown-up. Wellie is a silly boy, now isn't he?"
"Yeah. He is.Once, at the gymnasium, he ate a worm. Then, he threw one into his sister Jellie's hair. Jellie is such a good name for her. She is fat and everyone calls her Jellie Belly." Janina laughed.
"That isn't very nice, now. I hope you weren't one of the kids that called her that. She can't help it that she is a bit heavy. She has a condition. She will hopefully lose the weight as she gets older."
"I know what you are trying to do. I am not a stupid child. You are trying to change the subject, so that I quit asking about the Overworld and the Crumbling. Please explain about that now, Gram. If you don't mind."
"Janina, I do mind. You needn't ask about things like that just yet. It is none of your concern." Mattie wished for a split second that her granddaughter wouldn't be so perceptive of adults' evasiveness and their ways.
Jorga lay awake. Harve was sleeping soundly next to her, and the kids were doing the same in their room. She wondered how they could sleep with something so strange going on just above their heads. Harve had tired himself out worrying, though, and the kids had all cried themselves to sleep, while Jorga ran round the room trying to give them all a bit of comfort, and succeeding minimally. She was half-tempted to wake Harve to talk to him. She needed to talk to someone. Or to just be held for a while, perhaps. She snuggled closer to him and tried to sleep.
Mattie awoke to knocking at her door. She rolled over and looked at the clock on her nightstand. Only 4:38. Who could be visiting at this hour? It must be an emergency, she thought, climbing out of bed and slipping into her robe and slippers.
Opening the door, she said, "Good morning, what is going on at this early hour?"
A hand, cold as ice, slipped around her arm, in a vise-like grip, jerking her outside onto the porch. Suddenly something was slipped over her face and she was pushed forward.
"Now what is this all about?" Mattie demanded, angrily, as her wrists were bound behind her. There was no answer, and all she could hear were the sounds of the Crumbling and Janina's loud snoring from her open bedroom window. She was forced into some kind of compartment.
"I need to see my granddaughter! I can't just leave her alone!"
A screaming whisper of a voice, not quite human, and not quite animal replied, "Would you like us to take her with you?"
"I would like for you to let me go, or at least tell me why this is happening."
"You do not need to know just yet. Now be quiet, or I shall make you quiet."
"Make me, then!!" Mattie hollered, and then she knew no more.
Jorga woke up, and saw that Harve was no longer at her side. She panicked. She went into the kitchen and called his name. No answer. She went into the children's room and saw that they were all still sound asleep. She went outside and called for Harve again. No answer. She walked all round the house and still saw no sign of him.
"Maybe he went back to Miss Mattie's," she said to herself, rather doubtfully. She hurriedly ran down the road and round the corner to Mattie's and saw Harve holding Janina Dagdol, who was crying.
"Miss Mattie is gone. Janina said that she woke up at about six this morning and there was no sign of Miss Mattie. She said that the front door was ajar and that there was just this laying on the porch steps," Harve said, holding up a strange emblem. Jorga examined it.
"OWP.... Overworld Patrol?" Jorga said.
"I assume so," Harve replied. "Janina, it will be fine. She will come back. Maybe the OWP just came to ask her a few questions and took her to their headquarters for more information. She'll be okay." He looked at Jorga, and she saw and immense mixture of doubt and dread in his eyes. Everyone knew that when the OWP took someone, they were rarely seen again.
"Janina, come on. You can come to our house and play with Jellie and Wellie for a while," Jorga said, taking Janina's small hand in her own. She smiled down at the sad child.
"Miss Jorga, what is the Overworld Patrol?" Janina inquired.
"I honestly don't know, honey. That is a good question to ask your grandma when she comes back."
"I already asked her and she said that it was none of my concern."
"Well, your grandma knows best. I do not even know about the Patrol. Maybe it is only the wisest of the village that can have knowledge of such things. Best not to worry yourself with it now."
Mattie still was blindfolded. She arrived at whatever destination the people had taken her to. Finally, one spoke, giving a reason for her being captured.
"We have heard that you have been disclosing information about us to a Mister Harve Griswell about our operations. This is unacceptable. Anyone who has too much knowledge of what we do must be properly disposed of." A chill ran down Mattie's spine. What was to become of Janina?
"Is there any way that I can contact my granddaughter? She was alone and asleep when we left."
"No. You will never be contacting anyone in your village again." She was then pulled from the compartment, which she now knew was a waggon, and a sharp, cold instrument was thrust into the crook of her elbow. She winced, and before she could speak, a darkness deeper than that caused by the blindfold descended upon her.
The Crumbling continued. Jorga, Harve, Jellie, Wellie, and Janina continued to worry about it. They all stayed inside, looking out the windows. Others came to their home to ask if they knew what was going on. They did not, so everyone just tried to comfort one another. They fell asleep after a while, some in chairs, some in the floor, and some even standing up.
Jorga woke up, surrounded by neighbours and friends. She woke Harve up and they went outside. The Crumbling had stopped. They looked up, and they saw stars. They saw the moon, and they saw trees. They did not know the names for these things at that time, but this did not take away from their amazement whatsoever. A face, a person, appeared at the edge of the crevice through which they could see these things.
"What are you doing down there?" The person looked down at them curiously. "Come on up here where you belong. Hang on and I'll give you a hand!"
Janina Dagdol cried, reaching for her grandmother. Mattie picked her up gently and rocked her, murmuring forgettable words of comfort all the while. The Roof continued to crumble. Children continued to cry. Most of the people in the Tunnel had never seen anything like this before. Mattie was of a rare group. She was the oldest in her Tunnel, but word had spread from other communities within the World that there was a man in Rogadoff that was twixt her age.
Jorga held her children close to her. They were very unnerved by the bizarre happenings around them. Her husband, Harve, had left to ask Mattie Dagdol, the Tunnel's oldest and wisest inhabitant, what was going on. Shortly, he returned, with a small grain of comfort for his wife and children.
"Mrs. Dagdol says that she has seen things of this kind two times past. She says that both those times, the Crumbling did not last as long as this, but that it was just as frightening. She said not to worry, as long as it stops shortly, but that if it keeps up doing this, then we should get a hold of the Overworlder Patrol immediately to find out what is happening Above." Harve was out of breath from his report. Jorga looked at him frightenedly.
"Harve, what exactly does the Overworlder Patrol do? No one ever speaks of it."
Harve gave it some thought. "I don't rightly know, love. Would you like me to go ask Miss Mattie?"
"No. We need to find something for the kids to do, though, to get their minds off of this for at least a while."
Jorga and Harve took their children inside, where they could hear the sounds of the Roof falling on the roof of their dwelling. Jorga prepared a meagre supper for Harve and the kids, while he entertained them with a story about a troll.
Mattie was still holding her orphaned granddaughter, sitting on the porch of her dwelling when a huge stone fell from the Roof. Janina whimpered.
"Shh... It'll be alright Janina. It will stop soon and everything will be okay."
Janina looked up at her and a tear escaped her eye; her look of sadness was quickly replaced with one of innocent inquisitiveness which seemingly only children, the extremely old, and the dumb can so perfectly display.
"Gramma, what did Mister Harve Griswell want? What did you mean when you were talking about the Overworld Patrol and the Crumbling and all?"
"Janina,please don't worry about all that now."
"Please just tell me. I won't ever ask you about adult matters again until five years hence."
Mattie chuckled softly. "Why five years hence?"
"That's when Wellie Griswell told me I would be a grown-up. He says that that is when his daddy was a grown-up."
"I'm sure his daddy was indeed a grown-up when he was only fifteen, but times have changed and now you, my dear, have about seven years before you are a grown-up. Wellie is a silly boy, now isn't he?"
"Yeah. He is.Once, at the gymnasium, he ate a worm. Then, he threw one into his sister Jellie's hair. Jellie is such a good name for her. She is fat and everyone calls her Jellie Belly." Janina laughed.
"That isn't very nice, now. I hope you weren't one of the kids that called her that. She can't help it that she is a bit heavy. She has a condition. She will hopefully lose the weight as she gets older."
"I know what you are trying to do. I am not a stupid child. You are trying to change the subject, so that I quit asking about the Overworld and the Crumbling. Please explain about that now, Gram. If you don't mind."
"Janina, I do mind. You needn't ask about things like that just yet. It is none of your concern." Mattie wished for a split second that her granddaughter wouldn't be so perceptive of adults' evasiveness and their ways.
Jorga lay awake. Harve was sleeping soundly next to her, and the kids were doing the same in their room. She wondered how they could sleep with something so strange going on just above their heads. Harve had tired himself out worrying, though, and the kids had all cried themselves to sleep, while Jorga ran round the room trying to give them all a bit of comfort, and succeeding minimally. She was half-tempted to wake Harve to talk to him. She needed to talk to someone. Or to just be held for a while, perhaps. She snuggled closer to him and tried to sleep.
Mattie awoke to knocking at her door. She rolled over and looked at the clock on her nightstand. Only 4:38. Who could be visiting at this hour? It must be an emergency, she thought, climbing out of bed and slipping into her robe and slippers.
Opening the door, she said, "Good morning, what is going on at this early hour?"
A hand, cold as ice, slipped around her arm, in a vise-like grip, jerking her outside onto the porch. Suddenly something was slipped over her face and she was pushed forward.
"Now what is this all about?" Mattie demanded, angrily, as her wrists were bound behind her. There was no answer, and all she could hear were the sounds of the Crumbling and Janina's loud snoring from her open bedroom window. She was forced into some kind of compartment.
"I need to see my granddaughter! I can't just leave her alone!"
A screaming whisper of a voice, not quite human, and not quite animal replied, "Would you like us to take her with you?"
"I would like for you to let me go, or at least tell me why this is happening."
"You do not need to know just yet. Now be quiet, or I shall make you quiet."
"Make me, then!!" Mattie hollered, and then she knew no more.
Jorga woke up, and saw that Harve was no longer at her side. She panicked. She went into the kitchen and called his name. No answer. She went into the children's room and saw that they were all still sound asleep. She went outside and called for Harve again. No answer. She walked all round the house and still saw no sign of him.
"Maybe he went back to Miss Mattie's," she said to herself, rather doubtfully. She hurriedly ran down the road and round the corner to Mattie's and saw Harve holding Janina Dagdol, who was crying.
"Miss Mattie is gone. Janina said that she woke up at about six this morning and there was no sign of Miss Mattie. She said that the front door was ajar and that there was just this laying on the porch steps," Harve said, holding up a strange emblem. Jorga examined it.
"OWP.... Overworld Patrol?" Jorga said.
"I assume so," Harve replied. "Janina, it will be fine. She will come back. Maybe the OWP just came to ask her a few questions and took her to their headquarters for more information. She'll be okay." He looked at Jorga, and she saw and immense mixture of doubt and dread in his eyes. Everyone knew that when the OWP took someone, they were rarely seen again.
"Janina, come on. You can come to our house and play with Jellie and Wellie for a while," Jorga said, taking Janina's small hand in her own. She smiled down at the sad child.
"Miss Jorga, what is the Overworld Patrol?" Janina inquired.
"I honestly don't know, honey. That is a good question to ask your grandma when she comes back."
"I already asked her and she said that it was none of my concern."
"Well, your grandma knows best. I do not even know about the Patrol. Maybe it is only the wisest of the village that can have knowledge of such things. Best not to worry yourself with it now."
Mattie still was blindfolded. She arrived at whatever destination the people had taken her to. Finally, one spoke, giving a reason for her being captured.
"We have heard that you have been disclosing information about us to a Mister Harve Griswell about our operations. This is unacceptable. Anyone who has too much knowledge of what we do must be properly disposed of." A chill ran down Mattie's spine. What was to become of Janina?
"Is there any way that I can contact my granddaughter? She was alone and asleep when we left."
"No. You will never be contacting anyone in your village again." She was then pulled from the compartment, which she now knew was a waggon, and a sharp, cold instrument was thrust into the crook of her elbow. She winced, and before she could speak, a darkness deeper than that caused by the blindfold descended upon her.
The Crumbling continued. Jorga, Harve, Jellie, Wellie, and Janina continued to worry about it. They all stayed inside, looking out the windows. Others came to their home to ask if they knew what was going on. They did not, so everyone just tried to comfort one another. They fell asleep after a while, some in chairs, some in the floor, and some even standing up.
Jorga woke up, surrounded by neighbours and friends. She woke Harve up and they went outside. The Crumbling had stopped. They looked up, and they saw stars. They saw the moon, and they saw trees. They did not know the names for these things at that time, but this did not take away from their amazement whatsoever. A face, a person, appeared at the edge of the crevice through which they could see these things.
"What are you doing down there?" The person looked down at them curiously. "Come on up here where you belong. Hang on and I'll give you a hand!"
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Just Great
It is so hard to try and be a good person whenever everything in your life just seems to get screwed up on a daily basis. I was doing really well, but when you are screwed up to begin with and then just little things can send your castle crashing down, well... it's just dandy. Wonderful. Then, all the cuss words you quit saying, all the meanness you quit showing and feeling, all the despair that was pushed away by optimism-it all comes out and it's really ugly.
It's hard to smell like a rose when you are standing in sewage.
It's hard to smell like a rose when you are standing in sewage.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Etc. II (I think)
Well, it has been a while. I have read a book that makes me mad and I am reading one that I actually like now. I'll tell you about the one that makes me mad. Everyone seems to find it more Intriguing and Interesting and Deliciously Scandalous! if you accentuate the negative and then give a very hodge-podge attempt to accentuate the positive afterward just so that you feel this much ----------- better about yourself, when in reality you have made yourself this much - better.
Now, about the book.
The Giver, by Lois Lowry.
Very aggravating to read. You want to seize the characters from their comfortable, little compressed and dried tree pulp and ink homes and SHAKE them. They are so stupidly satisfied with their pathetic lives which are supposed to be "perfect" that it is absolutely MADDENING. They kill babies. They kill old people. They kill people who break a few petty rules. They look the same. They dress the same. They eat the same food. The "couples" do not actually kiss or engage in any physically intimate relations whatsoever. They do not actually have their own kids. Their hormones are stifled out at an early age so that they become virtually asexual. There is more, but I am running short on time, so I can't write it. Not to say that it is a bad book, though. It has a good ending, at least. And that's what matters, right? If you have a good journey, only to end it by falling in a pit of fire with evil dragons and all that, then it just sucks. If you have a bad journey, then end it by meeting that special someone, winning a million dollars and all that, then good, very, very good. Awesome, even.
Well, that's about it. Yay. Have a nice day. :) Get all seventies on that, man. haha
*If you don't get that, then look up on Google the origin of the "Have a nice day [insert smiley face]" thing.
Now, about the book.
The Giver, by Lois Lowry.
Very aggravating to read. You want to seize the characters from their comfortable, little compressed and dried tree pulp and ink homes and SHAKE them. They are so stupidly satisfied with their pathetic lives which are supposed to be "perfect" that it is absolutely MADDENING. They kill babies. They kill old people. They kill people who break a few petty rules. They look the same. They dress the same. They eat the same food. The "couples" do not actually kiss or engage in any physically intimate relations whatsoever. They do not actually have their own kids. Their hormones are stifled out at an early age so that they become virtually asexual. There is more, but I am running short on time, so I can't write it. Not to say that it is a bad book, though. It has a good ending, at least. And that's what matters, right? If you have a good journey, only to end it by falling in a pit of fire with evil dragons and all that, then it just sucks. If you have a bad journey, then end it by meeting that special someone, winning a million dollars and all that, then good, very, very good. Awesome, even.
Well, that's about it. Yay. Have a nice day. :) Get all seventies on that, man. haha
*If you don't get that, then look up on Google the origin of the "Have a nice day [insert smiley face]" thing.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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