Sunday, October 03, 2004

The sun is shining, the ice is slippery, and I was watching TV. There came a knock, a knock, a knock upon the door. When I answered it, there was this fellow in a blue and red jumpsuit type thing and a mask standing there. He said, "Quick! Can I use your window??" Well, I get this a lot, so I said sure, wondering why no one had yelled 'man on the floor.' So this suited fellow ran to my window opened it, and this white sticky stuff shot from his hand and landed on Gilbert roof. So then this guy the white sticky stuff to swing out the window and land on Gilbert. Then he jumped to Thomas. I have a suspicion that he was chasing a black-suited stalker who's been haunting the campus lately driving a green SUV.
Well there's a little excitement for your life. I mean my life. So, it's Sunday afternoon, the kids are in the middle of training, I'm about to get to a battle scene with one of the most coolest (literally and figuratively) and complex villains--so yeah, I would much rather write than do homework. But, as I can't justify writing, I thought I'd say a few words here for all you people who read my blog.
I went to a Celtic concert last night. It rocked. Well, it fiddled, more technically. It wasn't the Beyond the Pale that I was thinking of, but it was still cool. And I got to go for free, so rock on--er, fiddle on. It was neat to see someone playing the tin whistle, Irish flute, and bodhran--er bohdran--er GASTON! Um, I guess I am a little random.
My floor is so awesome. I love the girls up here. They are so much fun to hang out with. And our brother floor is cool, too! I've forgiven them for not escorting us to Communion. Wink wink double grin.
I was going to say something else. Daw gown it. Dash gum it. Dosh it. And other expressions of frustration, excluding the profane. Oh I remember. Never mind.
So, everybody on my floor keeps telling me how I'm always in story mode. I guess that's true, and I think it's awesome. So, I'd better get to my homework. Talk to all you awesome anonymous nobodies out there who read my blog!
Sammie G.

P.S. I wonder if I'm the only weirdo out there who proofreads my blog a million times to make sure I'm using proper grammar and such before sticking it on my site . . .


Linalos said...

Did the villan get caught? Let me know the next time Spiderman is running around!

Skye said...

Hey there, Annie-qwinn me pal and friend! Glad the ball bounces por tu. Or...I forgot what "for" is in french. And not "four" for(haha) you pratical jokers out there. "For" as in "For my dearly departed with grave and morbid humor". Ahem. I feel so uncreative today. I can't get Morrighan into six pages for the writing contest and I feel I MUST enter SOMETHING and yet...I can't. My muse is silent. Darn her. I think I shall write a story on the comment thingy.

There once was a girl named Skye who was in a quandry.

No, that started out horribly. I always harped on my CW kids for starting stories out that way and now I'm going back on my own rule!? What us college doing to me?

Let us try again.

The cold bit through the thin windbreaker, not breaking the wind at all,despite the fact that it was called a "wind BREAKER". Skye hated the cold, almost as much as she hated papers, which was only second in her loathing of exams in OT...which in turn nearly topped her hatred of writing political papers for English. All in all, being cold was deplorable, but not the worst thing in the world. She didn't have rehearsal that night and very little in the way of homework, so the saying, "All is right in the world." was mostly holding true in her little world. Until she spotted it. A sign made of ordinary paper holding possibly the most cherished words a writer can ever behold. "Creative Writing contest". Skye uttered not a word, but ran back to her dorm room as fast as she could. She dashed down the stair, nearly flying headlong in the trash can at the bottom and flew down the hall leaving her confused roommate without the answers she sought. Skye fumbled along her shelf until she found it. The blue binder that held her greatest works in the world. Her "short story" was 52 pages long, but she was sure with a little fixing and molding she might be able to edit it....

This is only depressing me, Annie! Did I tell you what happened to my laptop. I spilled kool-aid on it! It's dead! All my stories are stuck on it! Dad is sure he can save them...but I currently don't have them! Woe and other terrible things have befallen me! I need to write! Whatever shall I do? Has the sky fallen? Am I dead?

Answer me my friend, I implore you!

Respectfully Yours,

The Girl Without a Muse (and a dead laptop that is holding her life's work for randsom.)

Liz said...

stupid green stalker jeeps...

Harry said...

Yeah, I think you are the only weirdo that proofreads their blog a million times. My opinion could be tainted, though.