TOOTHACHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S: California was freaking awesome. Photo's up on facebook.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Vol 119
The images that are plastered all over the news about the 8.9 earthquake that rocked the entire country causing a tsunami that destroyed the lives of hundreds of thousand and shifted the entire country 12 feet east are nerve wrecking.
I wonder if the view would still look the same.
According to some scientist, another earthquake of similar magnitude is expected and a volcano eruption.
Wow!
Everyone I know there is okay, but no clue about how their families are. Most of them are from Tokyo on down, which wasn't hit as hard as Sendai.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Sunset Coven 1
Hey Jimes,
I said we should write something together and I know how you love your lore...so...I started for you.
You're up next. Pick up where you want and take it where you wish.
No communicating between us.
Lets see what we come up with.
And but of course I haven't edited yet. Class in 5 minutes.
The “Mother Road.” “Main street of America.” Or better yet, Route 66 was the most famous name for the 2448 mile stretch of road that crossed eight state borders. But to Jime, it was mostly “that shit piece of dirt that’s too fucking,” or “Jack Killer,” that she always managed to get stranded on whenever she rode down it.
She kicked the dust covered black with silver racing stripes 1987 Ford Mustang GT that decided it once again no longer wanted to work and puttered to a stop fifty miles from the nearest gas station. Though the black leather pointy-toed Christian Louboutin knee boots were strong, and they had better be with the money she shelled out for the custom fit slut-em-up boots, the rim of old Jack was stronger and she jammed her toe. She hissed, fangs out, and dropped a plethora of curse words she gathered over her 900 year old immortal life.
“Damn it Jack, if you don’t start up right now I’m going to gut you, slash your tires, load your tank with sugar, rip out your engine and eat it for breakfast.”
“Now that just won’t do,” Suri, Jime’s 24 year old baby witch niece, said dully from her position perched on the back of Jack, one cowboy boot clad foot swinging away. Suri watched Jime continue her physical and verbal assault on the car. Tendrils of fire engine red hair that took on the color of blood under the moonlight spilled from the neat high top ponytail as she slapped and kicked. “Try biting it, It’s about the only thing you haven’t done to poor old Jack yet,” she jeered. “That and shooti--” Before she managed to finished her sentence, Jime’s trusty 9mm pistol, that Suri had just to figure out how she managed to hide in those skin tight clothings, was out. She fired a round at the hood of the car.
The bullets bounced away leaving Jack unscratched thanks to the protective charm Suri managed to put it on after one of her aunts earlier fits of explosion. Suri shook her head and looked at the dessert mountain range in the distance.
“Why don’t you wave your little magic wand and do something,” Jime said with a sigh of resignation. She strolled around to the back of the car and leaned against Jack.
Suri snorted. “I don’t know the first thing about fixing cars. Magic or no magic.”
“Try something.” Jime pulled the ponytail holder out and shook her wild mane.
“Why? So I can break it and have Jack -the real Jack- coming after me for breaking his car? Isn’t it enough that you already stole it.”
Jime glanced at her niece and rolled her eyes. Still wet behind the ears, Suri didn’t know how to toss caution into the wind. But it was understandable, seeing as how she had just reached her immortality a few weeks ago. And Jime wasted no time trying to break her static-conservative niece. “Oh quit crying. Jack -the real Jack- doesn’t even know it was us who stole it.”
“You who stole it,” Suri corrected. “And sorry Jimez, but according to my crystal ball, Jack Jammers of the Sinn Jammers knows exactly who stole his baby.”
“You don’t have a crystal ball.”
“And you can’t walk daylight.”
Jime latched onto Suri’s arm and yanked her off the trunk of the mustang. “Fix it.”
Suri sighed and walked around to the front of the car. “I really don’t know how. No ones taught me car fixing spells.”
Jime went to stand next to Suri, both looking down at the hood of the car. “Well make something up.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but make it quick. I’m starting to smell wolf.”
Suri inhaled deeply, but there was no point. She was a witch, and witches didn’t have a keen scene of smell.
“Help me,” Suri said, growing slightly agitated. She didn’t like wolves. The way those little beady eyes would stare --she couldn’t help but curse them. Which was how they ended up in that barroom ball down in Louisiana a year ago with the local pack.
Jime placed a finger to her chin and pondered. “How about, ‘Jack start your engine, lets hit the rode and smash some...pidgins.”
Suri’s head rolled slowly to Jime. Her eye twitched. “That’ll be as effected as me saying, “Jack be mimble, Jack be fast, start your engine and punch the gas.”
The mustang roared to life, it’s lights flashing on, tail pipe puffing smoke, and shot backwars down the road at break neck speed.
“Way to go, Suri. I knew you had it in you. Next time, tell it to go the right direction.” Jime ran after the car, moving faster than she should have been able to in those heels. Oh the wonderful gifts that blessed the cursed Vampires, Suri thought. Now there’s an oxymoron for you.
“Next time don’t leave it in reverse. Wrong direction” Suri yelled, running after Jack and Jime. She ran for a good mile and a half before she caught up with Jime who had caught up to Jack and was waiting inside behind the drivers seat.
“Wolves coming from that direction. “Jime pointed in the direction they were suppose to be driving. “Poor Jack doesn’t like the funky, flea-bags, do you Jackie?” she cooed, rubbing the steering wheel. Jime whipped the car into the other direction and sped off down the Mother Road.
I said we should write something together and I know how you love your lore...so...I started for you.
You're up next. Pick up where you want and take it where you wish.
No communicating between us.
Lets see what we come up with.
And but of course I haven't edited yet. Class in 5 minutes.
The “Mother Road.” “Main street of America.” Or better yet, Route 66 was the most famous name for the 2448 mile stretch of road that crossed eight state borders. But to Jime, it was mostly “that shit piece of dirt that’s too fucking,” or “Jack Killer,” that she always managed to get stranded on whenever she rode down it.
She kicked the dust covered black with silver racing stripes 1987 Ford Mustang GT that decided it once again no longer wanted to work and puttered to a stop fifty miles from the nearest gas station. Though the black leather pointy-toed Christian Louboutin knee boots were strong, and they had better be with the money she shelled out for the custom fit slut-em-up boots, the rim of old Jack was stronger and she jammed her toe. She hissed, fangs out, and dropped a plethora of curse words she gathered over her 900 year old immortal life.
“Damn it Jack, if you don’t start up right now I’m going to gut you, slash your tires, load your tank with sugar, rip out your engine and eat it for breakfast.”
“Now that just won’t do,” Suri, Jime’s 24 year old baby witch niece, said dully from her position perched on the back of Jack, one cowboy boot clad foot swinging away. Suri watched Jime continue her physical and verbal assault on the car. Tendrils of fire engine red hair that took on the color of blood under the moonlight spilled from the neat high top ponytail as she slapped and kicked. “Try biting it, It’s about the only thing you haven’t done to poor old Jack yet,” she jeered. “That and shooti--” Before she managed to finished her sentence, Jime’s trusty 9mm pistol, that Suri had just to figure out how she managed to hide in those skin tight clothings, was out. She fired a round at the hood of the car.
The bullets bounced away leaving Jack unscratched thanks to the protective charm Suri managed to put it on after one of her aunts earlier fits of explosion. Suri shook her head and looked at the dessert mountain range in the distance.
“Why don’t you wave your little magic wand and do something,” Jime said with a sigh of resignation. She strolled around to the back of the car and leaned against Jack.
Suri snorted. “I don’t know the first thing about fixing cars. Magic or no magic.”
“Try something.” Jime pulled the ponytail holder out and shook her wild mane.
“Why? So I can break it and have Jack -the real Jack- coming after me for breaking his car? Isn’t it enough that you already stole it.”
Jime glanced at her niece and rolled her eyes. Still wet behind the ears, Suri didn’t know how to toss caution into the wind. But it was understandable, seeing as how she had just reached her immortality a few weeks ago. And Jime wasted no time trying to break her static-conservative niece. “Oh quit crying. Jack -the real Jack- doesn’t even know it was us who stole it.”
“You who stole it,” Suri corrected. “And sorry Jimez, but according to my crystal ball, Jack Jammers of the Sinn Jammers knows exactly who stole his baby.”
“You don’t have a crystal ball.”
“And you can’t walk daylight.”
Jime latched onto Suri’s arm and yanked her off the trunk of the mustang. “Fix it.”
Suri sighed and walked around to the front of the car. “I really don’t know how. No ones taught me car fixing spells.”
Jime went to stand next to Suri, both looking down at the hood of the car. “Well make something up.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but make it quick. I’m starting to smell wolf.”
Suri inhaled deeply, but there was no point. She was a witch, and witches didn’t have a keen scene of smell.
“Help me,” Suri said, growing slightly agitated. She didn’t like wolves. The way those little beady eyes would stare --she couldn’t help but curse them. Which was how they ended up in that barroom ball down in Louisiana a year ago with the local pack.
Jime placed a finger to her chin and pondered. “How about, ‘Jack start your engine, lets hit the rode and smash some...pidgins.”
Suri’s head rolled slowly to Jime. Her eye twitched. “That’ll be as effected as me saying, “Jack be mimble, Jack be fast, start your engine and punch the gas.”
The mustang roared to life, it’s lights flashing on, tail pipe puffing smoke, and shot backwars down the road at break neck speed.
“Way to go, Suri. I knew you had it in you. Next time, tell it to go the right direction.” Jime ran after the car, moving faster than she should have been able to in those heels. Oh the wonderful gifts that blessed the cursed Vampires, Suri thought. Now there’s an oxymoron for you.
“Next time don’t leave it in reverse. Wrong direction” Suri yelled, running after Jack and Jime. She ran for a good mile and a half before she caught up with Jime who had caught up to Jack and was waiting inside behind the drivers seat.
“Wolves coming from that direction. “Jime pointed in the direction they were suppose to be driving. “Poor Jack doesn’t like the funky, flea-bags, do you Jackie?” she cooed, rubbing the steering wheel. Jime whipped the car into the other direction and sped off down the Mother Road.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Vol 118
So, Tia, you suggested (more like forcetolddemanded) I read SEP's novels in order starting with Glitter Baby.
And I have.
Finished it today.
And I have to say I hated them all.
The adults were completely unlikable and irresponsible.
Belinda was a pain in everyone's ass.
I don't like dependent women.
It's not dependent women even, it's her complete lack of individuality.
She feeds out of the success of others instead of working hard herself.
Lets not even start with Alexi.
He could have been such a likable character.
I even understood why he made her give Fleur away.
But to treat everyone with such contempt, to ruin that girl over a fecking car...TRYING TO CONVINCE HER TO HAVE HIS CHILD. His own fecking stepdaughter.
He's nucking futs.
And I just knew Belinda would do that when he had the second stroke.
It was funny how no one seemed to care about Michel until halfway through the book.
He just disappeared as a teen and they couldn't give less of a feck.
At least he and Fleur worked out their bitterness.
It was so hilarious when he tried to protect her from Jake, when Jake would rip him six ways to Sunday.
I don't even want to beginning with Fleur and Jake.
Some of her plight I can understand.
She doesn't think she's as good looking as people say she is.
Hell, I don't think I'm as good looking as people say I am.
I seriously stare in the mirror and wonder what they see, like Fleur.
And I hate taking pictures even if people say I'm photogenic, like Fleur.
So that much of her personality I could understand and sympathize with.
I'll just say that she over reacted back then.
I mean, it's understandable to leave but not for 6 years.
And not run into the man who has hated you all your life and suddenly is so sweet to you.
She was so naive.
Just as naive as Jake.
I was like, "aww" when he cried.
Why?
Guys crying...hot guys crying...such a beautiful sight.
Unnerves me like nothing else, but can be so refreshing.
Does that sound sadistic of me?
Anyway, I'll just say that Jake is freaking hilarious.
Sundance Kid, really? REALLY?
ROTFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!
Vol 117
I'm all jittery like a dope fiend right now.
I wonder if it's because of the excessive amounts of caffeine I drink daily or anxiety.
I prefer the caffeine.
My anxiety attacks are stuff out nightmares.
