TAMSIBLING

Okay, so no doubt some of you have probably read my latest one-shot,

ALLIETHORN7

...No. Goodbye. I'm sick. I'm tired. My Mei-mei is in the ER (Again) for somethimg intentionally vauge about her stomach and bowels and what-not. I'm stumbling around like a drunkard. I can barely keep my eyes open as it is. I'm pretty sure that my clock is lying to me; it has ta be a Thursday. I want to crawl into bed and not get out until next Tuesday. And I have to make a Video of Macbeth for English. Life sucks. Death's a Party. Conspicuously NOT having fun yet, -Danny

KAELE

While shopping at Walmart the other day, I picked up the cheap massive skein of black yarn they had there. I only got one, hoping I'll only need one to get both sleeves done. It will probably take only one skein. I've tried a different way of doing it though. I can't knit well yet, so I'm trying this in crochet: Chain enough to go a little bit longer than it would fit around your upper arm. Chain one extra, wrap string around hook, skip one chain and only hook half of the stitch. It will now look like three loops around the hook. Wrap yarn around hook and pull through. Finish out row, chain one and turn, skipping one stitch. (So you don't get shrinkage) I don't think it's a recognized crochet stitch, but it gets that same linked look almost like knitting. It almost looks like: knit two, purl one. (I think...) Once it's foiled (which I now have the website for) it should look very similar to the knitted chainmail. --- I'm being so lazy. Perhaps because my uniform's almost completed? I REALLY need to arrange for my sister to have a rifle and pistol, but I'm not visiting the armory thread at the 76th site to arrange for her to borrow them. I've already got my weapons, so I'm covered. Daisy isn't though. Luckily, with her uniform she can be a grunt or sniper, so whichever gun we get a hold of will work just fine. --- Got the material for my scarf the other day. I've been looking at a bunch of people's uniform status and a lot of them are not showing that they've got their scarves. When I went to Joanne fabrics, I picked up some cheap red fabric to make our scarves out of for Daisy and I, so I've got plenty of extra. It should be enough to make at least two or three extra ones. I'm considering just making those extra and packing them in the suitcase in case anyone forgets theirs. I'm ALSO thinking of picking up some small ice packs like the ones that go inside kids' lunchboxes. Soft sided ones that are about half the size of a sandwich. I was on a costume website yesterday and they have them for 'mascot' costumes as well as an entire VEST of cooling gel. Atlanta in late August is going to be murder. I figure if I pick up a few, we can tuck them away inside the folds of our scarves to keep cool.

HOBBLEIT

So my desktop has decided to break. So I had to put the internet on my laptop; which is extremely annoying as the battery keeps dying. And it also means that I can't use photoshop. And it also means that all the wallpapers I have been working on will probably be lost. That's a shame, 'cos I quite liked them. So don't expect anything from me until the computer either gets fixed or my mam buys a new one. Also, the computer engineer dude came out today to look at it and while he was here it didn't freeze once. The second he left, it froze again. It's sod's bloody law, isn't it? TTFN Jennifer -x-

CHAZZER

.... to tell you all about what I've revised. No, really, gonna see if I can do it from memory *cough* okay. Trudgill (some date no one cares about) - A British accent can be pinpointed from the phonetic features in the sentence 'Very Few Cars Made It Up The Long Hill' VERY - If the final 'y' is pronounced: /e/ - Manchester and Yorkshire /I/ - Cumbria and Lancashire /i:/ - Elsewhere (inc. Wales) FEW - If the 'ew' sound is pronounced: /u:/ East Anglia and East Midlands /ju:/ Elsewhere CARS - If the 'r' is pronounced: 'rhotic' South West, Lancashire, Scotland and Ireland. (point of interest, also, American) 'non rhotic' Elsewhere in UK MADE - If the 'a' is pronounced: /ei/ Merseyside and the South /ie/ Tyneside /e:/ Rest of the North UP If the 'u' is pronounced: /u/ - North /^/ - South, Scotland, Ireland LONG If the 'ng' is pronounced: /ng/ Lancashire, Merseyside, West Midlands /n/ Elsewhere in UK HILL If the 'h' is retained: /h/ East Anglia and North East If the l is dark: /l/ North East and Wales. There, I feel better now. Not only can I do that from memory, but you've all had to suffer a little of what I'm going through. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Mucho Love-o! xxxxxxxxxx

ORANGEHAT

I wish my life was a movie, not in the conventional way, that there would be a plot (at least) but more in the way that it would stand for something. The title of it would be something like: We're lost, but we're making good time. Of course it's a famous quote and after going through the fan I'd probably change it I'm lost, but making good time, because I'm conceited that way and the movie is supposed to be about me, but then I'd change it back after figuring that perhaps the title isn't supposed to relate to just my mixed up teenage life, but the fact that the world in general seems to have no idea where the fuck they're going, just that they're gonna get there. It would not be a very good movie, it wouldn't have (conventional *wink*) adventure, but it would probably be deep and completely involved with my head. Which should be entertaining and meaningful enough :P. Everyone sees the sunrise different and thoughts are unquie. So you would hear mine, and the persons next to me, perhaps I'd hear it too and make a cynical remark about said person to my viewers.... It was so hard for me to choose what to write about because a lot of random things happened that I felt the need to explain. I wish I could live in a place where it would rain for days. I'm so sick of this pussy Manitoba rain, where it drizzles for a while then disappears. I want thick sheets of rain with a consistancy that lasts for days! To such a point that when it finally stops I can go and meet the sun again. Yesterday after working from 2pm-8pm on a excrutiating long history assignment, I was unable to form coherent sentences and decided I needed a break. So I donned my coat and orange crocks (with socks) and wandered the wet rainy street. I greeted the outdoors as if I were a dramatic writer, who had shut themselves away from the world in a dark dingy room with only the computer screen for light, living like this for weeks. I had pounded the keys confessing the secrets of the world, the flaws that could only be explained surrounded by a plot and the perfect character. You may wonder how I could relate the process of writing a genius novel to that of my history project, and I'll tell you. They're both complete bullshit. Sure the facts are there, we all know World War One happened and it's not its authenticy I'm calling bullshit (that's the Second war :P) its how I came across the facts and paraded them around my page like a pompus scholar who knows all there is to be said. After walking for a while I came across a large puddle and was faced with an inexplicable urge to jump into the very centre of it. Perhaps I needed to experience soggy socks, but I did. Jumped right in, then continued down the street jumping and kicking up water from any puddle that needed to be distrubed. Thoughts ran through my head like fire and I soon I was running my hand over the surface of cars parked on the road covered in rain drops. I thought about how much I loved the gray skies and how badly I would love to run away and never come back. Run to a place where the sky meets the ground and I wouldn't have to worry about money or food, I could just exist in the clouds. I jumped in another puddle as a car drove by. What did it matter anyways? *splash* What was all this worth? I thought of people and their expectations, and their silly thought processes. I thought as if I wasn't a person, I was something else watching them. That's usually how I think, leave myself out, like this life doesn't count me. I don't think it does too horribly, reality has always gotten me down. I had no where else to go and eventually arrived back at my house, my history project looming menacingly in front of me, like that of Frankenstien's monster. I layed down in the middle of driveway and wished the drizzle would become something much more substantial than what had already slicked my bangs to my forehead. I wished to be swallowed by the sky. Presently I was interupted by my (seemingly dramatic) moment by a neighbour -"Meghan, are you alright?" I replied-" Yes, I'm just taking a break from my hi