by Aya

Le Chevalier d'Eon Ending Theme

Fly, sway, go all the way
I’m in the same fate with you
I feel your beat all around
Wandering in the everlasting way

Forever…
Tears fall, vanish into the night
If I’m a sinner…
Chivalry, show me the way to go

Rise, high, just feel alive
Say a prayer for you today
I still believe in your love
Trace the shadow of truth into the dark

Forever…
Tears fall, vanish into the night
If I’m a sinner…
Chivalry, show me the way to go

Wandering my crying soul
Only you can wipe away my tears

Forever…
Tears fall, vanish into the light…

***

This song is the closing/ending song of the anime Le Chevalier d’Eon. The anime was mainly about revenge, and believe me it is rated PG because of strong violence in its scenes and language. The opening song for this anime is entitled “Born”.

The anime was produced by Production I.G. (like Prince of Tennis and Blood+) and Sony’s production arm, Aniplex (like La Corda D’Oro and Jigoku Shoujo). Here in the Philippines it premiered its back-to-back episodes in Animax on November 3, 2007, Saturday, 8:30pm. Like Blood+, it is classified under genres like horror, action, drama, mystery, supernatural, with a little bit of romance.

d’Eon de Beaumont is so cool!

TODAY’S MESSAGE
Revenge. What a toxic emotion. What a deceptive motive. It is so easy to slip into this deadly trap. It starts with a wound. Perhaps a deep hurt, humiliation or betrayal. Life isn’t fair, but this is just too much! Soon our wound festers and anger becomes an obsession. But what makes revenge so deceptive is that we don’t have to murder someone to get revenge. Instead, we feel justified in slandering the person, shunning them, campaigning against something they are doing or a million other ways of getting nasty. But this is not revenge. It is getting even, or giving them what they deserve, or settling the score. No, it is revenge. It is hard not to go there. What then can we do? Paul shares the only thing we can do. Let go. Give it to God. Let Him take over your case. The author of Hebrews was serious when he wrote, “Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many.”  Today, follow that advice. Let God search your heart and then pull out any bitter root that has taken ground in your emotions. Don’t let a wound fester into something worst. 

TODAY’S PRAYER
Father, search my heart. Show me any toxic bitterness I may have. Show me any attitude or behavior of revenge. Forgive me and help me change my attitude. In Jesus’ name.
AMEN

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Sometimes, I feel that I could have excelled best by being a con artist.

I shall exorcise myself of a memory that has been haunting me for years. Travel with me back into the past.

Once upon a time, I was a victim of ostracism. You see, I was a student transferee from a highschool in far-flung Mindanao where my mother, as a church minister, was assigned when I was fourteen years old. I'm cutting the story short to save on computer rental in the Internet cafe, but suffice to say that when I was nearly sixteen, my family moved back to Manila and life in my new school as a senior was the bottomest circle of Dante's inferno.

My only friend was the battered and worn notebook on whose pages I wrote random poems and snippets of conversations I overheard from all around me... conversations where I wasn't part of. My classmates have indomitable bonds with each other, they being together since freshman year. And because, to them, I was a promdi*, it added to the ostracism. They kept a wide berth from me (I could sob here and soak the keyboards but I choose not to), isolating me in my corner of the classroom. The kinder ones tried to make small talk, but in a teenage world where cliques run one's life, those kinder ones risked being isolated and excommunicated from their groups as well; so, those kinder ones were never really my friends. Nonetheless, they made life bearable in that infernal high school.

Thinking about it, that experience could've been one of the catalysts of my tendency to stay on the sidelines and watch the show unfold in front of me, allowing me the luxury to take down notes. That experience surely was the reason I have nothing to share when others discuss their prom nights. I boycotted the said "momentous" occasion in favor of a movie marathon in HBO, rather than be around kids who, in my opinion, had the collective conscience of a lamppost on a coastal highway.

Still, before the school year ended, I got my revenge.

I've planned it to a tee, having already ordered a set of hand grenades, TNT, and dynamites over the Internet using a stolen credit card number and under a false name. But my revenge took a different, less violent way when I finally exacted it.

The "cool" kids wanted a Christmas party other than the usual fruit punch and spaghetti and fried chicken in a styrofoam variety. And I was guilty of putting the idea in their heads of having an out-of-town party in one of the private resorts in Laguna -- to stay there overnight and hold the party without any adults present to keep a check on the pheromone meter. I blurted the idea out of my desire to be accepted by the group. The popular girl squealed in delight and cast a meaningful look her boyfriend's way. Even before the others could vote nay or yea, I knew what the outcome would be.

It was 30 to 2 in favor of yea. The two dissidents were immediately coerced to recant their decision and half-heartedly gave their assent after a private conference with one of the popular girl's sidekicks.

The condition of the planned party was that no teachers should know. And that the parents should think that the out-of-town party is a chaperoned one.

The solution, I gave to them. They lapped it up like a fish to bait. For a moment there, I savored the feeling of how it is to be worshipped in awe. (Pathetic, I know.)

Kids who read this, one advice: DON'T DO THIS IN SCHOOL!

I told them to attend the school-required party but not spend so much. Just a simple early gathering of classmates with no exchanging of gifts portion, which was usual in high school Christmas parties. Contribute something for a teacher's token so the class adviser would not be so miffed that her students are leaving the party early. The teacher didn't have an idea that the entire class would be on its way to Laguna before lunchtime.

Regarding the parents, I took care of writing and printing out copies of a letter of permission for each of my classmates. The letter had an attached detailed whole-day activity schedule for the pre-Christmas spiritual life workshop held in Laguna. It was even signed by the class president, who was one of those gung ho for the party (she was, after all, the girlfriend of the school jock).

That year, the class adviser of Fourth Year Lemon** experienced the blandest Christmas party held in her three decades of teaching in that high school. The compensation was the Burberry bag she got from her students as a present for the Yuletide season. It was an orginal, although bought on sale from one of the malls in the city.

Then, Laguna opened her doors to the thirty or so unchaperoned minors. We found a townshouse securely enclosed in a high fence and a strong gate. There was an olympic-sized pool in the yard. Three bedrooms plus nooks and crannies. A kitchen, a bar, a patio, a shower room, and a toilet. We rented it out for the entire night.

When the caretaker closed the gate after him, the party started. Someone brought wine and champagne. Beer bottles and various other liquor products materialized out of bags. Someone else had a boom box, and there was suddenly trance music pulsating and reverberating all over the place. There were couples entwined in the nooks and crannies. The three bedroom doors were locked; the occupants inside were oblivious to the knocks of those who were outside.

The pool was full of kids. Alcohol and pool water mingled in joyous abandon.

I looked at the happy drunken faces of my classmates. I brought them here. Bacchus would be proud of me.

I chain smoked through it all while seated on a lounge chair. My notebook took the brunt of my cigarettes' ashes.

Midnight came, and the popular girl came up to me, her dazed boyfriend in tow. "This is the best party ever! You're the greatest!" She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Her boyfriend tussled my hair as if I was his favorite cousin and we've known each other since kindergarten. I must have smiled. (Pathetic, I know.)

The noon of the next day found us packing up. We were homeward bound. Some kids came up to me and gave me high-fives. Others taught me their class handshake. Others tussled my hair or gave me a pat on the back. One of the laid back guys who belonged to a band sat beside me on the bus headed for Manila. He commented that we do something like that again for graduation and asked for my number. (Pathetic, I know.) In the bus, I distributed "lecture" handouts about the workshop for my classmates to show to their parents, just in case mom and dad inquired how it went.

When the school opened after our Christmas vacation, there were classmates who sat with me during lunch. And life was easier all the way to graduation day. We share a bond now, it seemed.

The first thing I did after I got home from Laguna was cancel my Internet orders for the TNTs.

My confession ends here.

*promdi = a denigrating slang term for people who come to the city from provincial orgins; "from the province".

**name of class section was changed to protect privacy of those involved

[images courtesy of www.salem-news.com (pic of handcuffs), of www.independentcritics.com (a scene from Not Another Teen Movie), and of www.dailymail.co.uk (an outdoor rave)]

Once again, Thanks Animesuki and Ando.

But then again, look closely, I expect a drastic change this year. And not without good reason.

Playing the game of endless summer, wherein only death awaits. This is your fate, Rika Furude. VENGEANCE FOR '07!

And the results are pretty much thus: Rika takes her group due to no viable resistance, WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY all over their weak asses. Remembrance from Saimoe '08 and that "Reigning Champion" shtick? Give the close race from someone from Minami-Ke, I'd say hate and anti-key sentiment remains. TIME TO KILL THE GODS AND TAKE THEM HOME.

Looks like only Tamaki from Bamboo Blade is the real moe powerhouse from the series. I don't have much of a response evoked from To-Love Ru, so no comment here.

Eh, what is this. What is this Shugo Chara upset? ToHeart2 dethroned? Oh the noes.

A03

1位　652票　古手梨花＠ひぐらしのなく頃に解(Furude Rika@Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Kai)
2位　557票　南冬馬＠みなみけ シリーズ(Minami Touma@Minami-ke series)
3位　206票　白河ななか＠D.C.II 〜ダ・カーポII〜(Shirakawa Nanaka@D.C.II)

A07

1位　668票　金色の闇（ヤミ）＠To LOVEる(Konjiki no Yami(Yami)@To Love Ru)
2位　508票　宮崎都＠バンブーブレード(Miyazaki Miyako@Bamboo Blade)
3位　158票　王留美（ワン・リューミン）＠機動戦士ガンダム00(Wang Liu Min@Kidou Senshi Gundam 00)

A11

1位　484票　真城りま＠しゅごキャラ!(Mashiro Rima@Shugo Chara!)
2位　384票　柚原このみ＠ToHeart2 シリーズ(Yuzuhara Konomi@ToHeart2 series)
3位　366票　巻＠瀬戸の花嫁(Maki@Seto no Hanayome)

And for the next day:

A04
杏本詩歌＠ムシウタ (Anmoto Shiika@Mushiuta)
ギンガ・ナカジマ＠魔法少女リリカルなのはStrikerS (Ginga Nakajima@Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha StrikerS)
田端ゆい＠H2O -FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND- (Tabata Yui@H2O -FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND-)

A08
秋姫すもも（現プリマ・プラム）＠ななついろ★ドロップス (Akihime Sumomo(Prima Plum)@Nanatsuiro*Drops)
瀬戸燦＠瀬戸の花嫁 (Seto-San @ Seto no Hanayome)
フランドル＠怪物王女 (Flandre@Kaibutsu Oujo)

A12
羽入＠ひぐらしのなく頃に解 (Hanyuu Furude @ Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni)
ルイス・ハレヴィ＠機動戦士ガンダム00 (Louise Halevy@Kidou Senshi Gundam 00)
小日向はやみ＠H2O -FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND- (Kohinata Hayami@H2O -FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND-)

So there we have it. My picks? Anmoto, Seto-San and Hanyuu.

- He will be questioned by the police about my scratched car. It will unlikely lead to a conviction but it will give him headache.

- He will be questioned by the police because my GF will today or tomorrow file a complaint against him for slander (with my help of course).

- The lawyer of my GF will file a restraining order against Fucker. He will therefore also get a visit by the police or a letter from court or both. (I helped my GF to write the affidavid).

YES! Fucker will get his hellfire! And I am the one who will bring it to him.

And, there was the meeting at the Youth Welfare Office yesterday:

They both had seperate talks with that office before and now they had a meeting together. He wants to see the kids on the weekend alone, she wants some one from the Youth Welfare Office accompany him when he sees the kids due to his past record of abuse and him talking bad about the mother to the kids. The meeting went great for my GF. Fucker is such a sick idiot. This are the highlights:

- All three sat at one table. He turned his chair to only face my GF with his back which put a smile on the officer's face.

- All her accuses of abuse were denied by him or described as single incidents.

- He started to talk about me being her BF, me sleeping at her place, blah-blah. This talk was cut by the officer who said it has nothing to do with the kids.

- The officer said my GF is free to fall in love, so is he. That is absolutely ok.

- He always interrupted my GF and yelled at her.

- He said she left the kids alone before the break-up. "Alone" meaning she went to work for 2 hours at her part-time job in the evening and he was "alone" with the kids at home.

- He said a woman should stay home and cook. The Officer disagreed and said if the father llikes to cook it's also ok, as long as the kids are happy. My GF cooked mostly anyway and for sure always for the kids, but she and Fucker ate seperatly.

- He then stormed out of the office after half an hour despite the meeting being far from over by then.

- The officer said, after this and the meeting before with Fucker, she is now sure he needs psychological help.

YES! PERFECT! "Fucker, you are a stupid dumbass and you get what you deserve. Your life is a hell already. And I will send you an extra conflagration!" The revenge of the Phoenix will continue...

CHICAGO, IL --

On the latest edition of 'Monday Night Raw, Shawn Michaels, who was accompanied by his wife, made an in-ring appearance in front of thousands of screaming, Chicago fans and the whole world and commented on his possible return to the WWE.

In Mr. Michaels' statement, he expressed his concerns about returning to the 'Monday Nigh Raw' and also stated that he wanted to spend more time with his family and, aslo, to take time to recover from his eye injury; which occurred during a match with fellow WWE 'Monday Night Raw' superstar and eight-time Intercontinental, Chris Jericho, at the WWE PPV event, 'The Great American Bash."

While Mr. Michaels was speaking to the live audience and to the millions of 'Monday Night Raw' viewers, he was interrupted by Mr. Jericho, when made an in-ring appearance and confronted Mr. Michaels about his possible return to the WWE 'Raw" brand.

Earlier, Mr. Michaels made some backstage comments about the actions of Mr. Jericho, in regards to his actions toward Mr. Michaels at the WWE PPV event, 'Summerslam.' During Mr. Michael's speech, Mr Jericho interrupted him and, frankly, told him that he does not need to be competing in the ring and that he should spend time to see about this family.

Mr. Michaels replied that he was considering the same idea and as Mr. Michaels and his wife, were about to exit the ring; Mr. Jericho attempted to attack Mr. Michaels, but instead, attacked Mr. Michaels' wife, who was instantly knocked down on the mat, by mistake.

After that event, Mr. Jericho hastily exited the ring and made his way to the entrance ramp, as he was looking on at the couple, who were still in the ring. Mr. Michaels, instead of attacking Mr. Jericho, for the attack on his wife; he decided to comfort her.

Does this mean that the 'Heartbreak Kid' will make his return to the ring, sooner than he though? Will he seek retribution for Mr. Jericho's actions against his wife? Or, will he do as he was suggested by Mr. Jericho to do and pend more time with his family? Only time will tell, as we will see the outcome of this event on the next edition of 'Monday Night Raw.'

A new website, Literate Machine, offered to take my short story "Confession of a Righteous Serial Killer" and host it on their site, where people can download it for a whopping zero dollars and zero cents. That's right, completely FREE. As some of you might remember, "Confession…" is one of my older short stories, one that was published a long time ago in the magazine Black Petals. It is a simple revenge story, but I still like it.

So, how did my story come to be placed on Literate Machine? Well, the circumstances surrounding it are a bit synchronistic. Several days ago, I was perusing the site of an excellent dark fiction writer named Kevin Lucia. I noticed that he had written a comic called The Sliding and that I could see some of it on Literate Machine. It was late, so I decided that I would visit the site the next day.

Well, when I got up the next morning and checked my e-mail I had a friend request on MySpace from Literate Machine. Strange, right? So I accepted them and shortly after, I was contacted about "Confession of a Righteous Serial Killer." Weird how the world works, huh?

If you want to download my story, click here, and then check out all of the wonderful works available on their website. You can find short stories, novels, comic books, and more. Most of the stuff is free or very affordable.

What I particularly like about this ad is that, in the end of the cracking description, she mentioned that she planned to sell her future ex-husband's Harley Davidson. Because she stole his key. Sweet revenge...

Here's the object for sale:

She didn't forget to mention that the panty was way too big and the condom sized small...

An old italian man and woman were married for years even though
they hated each other. When they had a confrontation, screams and
yelling could be heard deep into the night. A constant statement
was heard by the neighbors who feared the man the most. "When I die
I will dig my way up and out of the grave to come back and haunt you
for the rest of your life!" They believed he practiced black magic
and was responsible for missing cats and dogs, and strange sounds at
all hours. He was feared and enjoyed the respect it garnished.
He died abruptly under strange circumstances and the funeral had a
closed casket. After the burial, the wife went straight to the local
bar and began to party as if there was no tomorrow. The gaiety of her
actions were becoming extreme while her neighbors approached in a
group to ask these questions: "Are you not worried? Concerned? Afraid
of this man who practiced black magic and stated when he died he would
dig his way up and out of the grave to come back and haunt you for
the rest of your life?" The wife put down her drink and said..."let
the old bastard dig. I had him buried upside down."

I stared up at the door that stood in front of me. Several hundred years and the door still performed its function with grace and dignity. Tonight though, all in the matter of a few hours, it would probably be destroyed, like the rest of this castle, I thought wryly. The magnificent door creaked with age as I slowly pushed it open into the room. The moonlight streamed in through the windows, casting the entire room in an eerie pale glow.

For a moment, I hesitated. I thought of all I had been through for so long, the nightmares I relived every night. For a moment though, I thought I wasn’t going to go through with my plan. I always felt this way before I remembered what they did to me and my family. That is what triggered me to continue my mission as it always had.

 I stepped inside the room and felt my pulse increase, my heart beat faster. And then I heard it. Its breathing was deep. I looked towards the massive bed, where the thing lay. Asleep, I thought with a smile, it’s always better if they start out asleep. I walked deeper into the room and looked around. As I looked at different pieces of furniture, the memories of my life flooded back to me. Pictures of my mother brushing my hair, my brothers rolling on the floor with the dog, my father walking in and gently scolding my brothers played in my head like a slideshow. As the memories cleared, I was left with darkness, loneliness, and broken dreams. The worst though was the nightmares that accompanied wherever I went in the night. My family had been ripped from me in the most brutal way possible and I was going to make sure that they would be remembered. I turned back to the bed where the creature slept, hatred filling my ears, eyes and mind. I stealthily tread to the corner and waited for some sign of life.

            “Whose there?” a voice filled with fear echoed throughout the room. I crept into the shadows to keep myself hidden from view.

            “I don’t believe in ghosts, so …,” the voice faltered, “go away!” I almost laughed out loud. Its not ghosts you need to be worrying about, I thought silently.

            “Jimmy is that you? This is not funny!” The voice rose higher and became more hysterical. “Jimmy, I’ll tell mom! I’m warning you!”

            The creature’s breathing was now shallow, as sleep wore off, and fear crept in. I slowly started to move, taking care to stay out of moonlight. Suddenly, as if someone had seen my troubles of staying out of the light, the moon went behind clouds, throwing the room into a black fog filled only with me and my enemy.

            “Jimmy …” the voice hesitant, small, and more frightened. This is for my family I thought as I moved to the head of the bed.

            “Don’t be frightened,” I said out loud to the thing in the bed. “There is nothing to fear.”

            “Mom?”

            “Darling, what is it?” I soothed in a sickly sweet voice.

            “Nothing … just had a nightmare … I guess.”

             I stood looking down at the face framed with blonde hair that shone even in the dark. I bent down, knowing that she couldn’t see me in the dark, and brushed away the hair from her neck and face as a mother would to her sweet daughter.

             “Mom?”

            “Shhhh…don’t worry,” I said changing my voice to an abrasive sound, “this won’t hurt a bit.” She screamed as I bit into her neck, drinking the nectar of life flowing from her veins. The screaming subsided after a second, but it triggered powerful memories. The villagers streaming through the door with torches, pitchforks, and all kinds of weapons, screaming, “Kill them! Kill the vampires!” My father desperately tried to protect us, but it was all in vain. My family all died, burned at the stake like worthless witches. But, I thought ironically, I was left, and they all were going to pay, one neck at a time.

Since my last short film was more of a laid back film, I really want this one to be exciting and to get you thinking.  Actually, I just dropped off my film, Ungrateful, off with Sandy C. at Columbia to enter it into the Take 1 film festival.  I really didn't think that I would be selected, but I guess I'm happy that I did.  It's just that I don't think that film represents what I can or want to do with filmmaking.  I seem to enjoy stories that have more...guns and blood.  Sophisticated.

No worries, because his new film I'm writing has plenty of both.  This will be my first action film with sync sound...or any sound for that matter.  Matt came over today...aka I picked him up because he doesn't have a car...and I talked to him about my film idea.  We never get anything done at my house because XBOX is the devil and it tempts us, so I drove us to a park near my house and we discussed.  He seemed to like the story idea, and it helped me a lot because the more I talked about it, the more I was able to develope it in my mind.

After talking to him about it, I tried to get him thinking about his own film ideas.  He told me about a couple different zombie film ideas, as well as an action comedy about a meter man who witnesses a murder and must run from the mob or something along those lines.  The zombie film ideas were both pretty interesting, and if he would just sit down and develope them more instead of play gears of war every night, I think he could actually turn one of them into a pretty decent script.

Speaking of script, I plan on starting my script by the end of the week.  I have the general story in my head still, and I have written the big shootout scene on a couple note cards, which I will flesh out once I get the rest of the scenes down on note cards.  I got this method from reading Robert Rodriquez's book Rebel Without A Crew.  That book has been my inspiration since my first film that I made in film school.  It is also the reason why I plan on shooting my first feature next summer...for practice.  It would be awesome to be able to come back after summer break and show off a feature film.  I was supposed to write the script for it this summer, but I was so busy with Ungrateful that I couldn't find the time.  I'll write it over the school year.  I have the basic story for it in my head, and I'll continue to develope it over the year.

Back to my short film idea as of right now.  It is going to be an action film with a story of revenge...my favorite.  The way I want to tell it is a mix between Pulp Fiction and Memento, although I'm not trying to claim that it will be anywhere as good as either of those films.  The only real similarities will be the fact that the end will overlap the beginning, and that the story will cut back and forth between past and present.  I'm pretty damn excited about it.  I would like to have the script ready before school starts so that I can start casting and finding the small crew that I will need once school starts.

I'll continue writing the story in the morning.

Apparently, he just had breakfast with Her. before rushing on to Network in Nairn. Neither of them seem to realise that once you have been lovers you cannot return to friendship. Or is that just my over simplistic view? I am no longer in contact with any of my ex lovers though one is now close in Broughty Ferry. 

The Sunday papers have some coverage of the Cinema of Dreams though I think some of the journos were finding the communication network a bit stone age. So the library in Nairn shuts on a Saturday afternoon and down goes the connection to the World Wide Web. What can they do but wait for Monday? Tilda looks like a scared rabbit caught in the headlights in a couple of the snapper's shots. but did she really think people would view her scheme for a film festival in the amateurish way they would view a drama programme from the Women"s Rural Institute? Both she and John are A list celebrities in their own fields and the press expected their A list friends to turn up in Nairn. And August is always silly season for the papers hungry for gossip.

On his return from Nairn almost at the time he promised (a small miracle in itself), I thought that Otloml was trying to have himself re-instated as love of my life. Sheepishly, on the doorstep (did he fear I would not let him in?) he said " I have brought you a present."

 My heart lifted. Surely a spontaneous gift giving is a good sign?

My memory took me on a quick journey of the shops on offer in Nairn. Tilda Swinton's avouched favourite would most definitely be shut on a Sunday. Indeed, bearing in mind Nairn's proximity to the Highland haunts of the strict churches of the sabbath observers so might all the rest. Perhaps he'd bought something on Saturday. He knows my taste: French perfume, despite That Woman; luxury leather bags.; Italian shoes; rpses......

"i got the petrol can filled up at the garage so you'll be able to mow the grass"!

Yes, Alright. The garden is my area; He can't tell which are plants and which weeds and shows horrendous signs of allergic reaction to most air-borne beasties but romantic this wasn't .He stays Otloml.
Despite this infelicitous attempt to please me he does seem to be trying. I know I told him I forgave the adultery. Basically, being a woman, I hold my two rivals responsible. I know how weak a man can be when faced with temptation. So the forgiveness is there. Otloml wants me to forget. Basically shut up about it and pretend nothing ever happened. I can't do that, or at least, not yet . A day of In Service boredom at school however and Otloml not only responds quickly to a text, but he is more or less on time to pick me up at the end of the school day. And this after he had voluntarily got up early to take me in to work because I had so much stuff! 

Things are even more strange on the way home. He seems quiet, even depressed. I venture a query about his day. He says he had not achieved as much as he had hoped. I make a snide comment about even my absence not being enough for him. And then we arrive home. Not only had he fixed on the replacement part to the lawnmower I had destroyed in one of my angry gardening sessions the other  week, he had mown the grass! I exclaimed, overjoyed that I did not have to fill the distinctly damp evening with this task.

"But you would have found it quite hard, " he muttered. "The mower kept cutting out because the grass was so long"

Another brownie point earned and then he stole another. 
"Do you know if we still have spacers for wall tiles? " he questioned gently. 

I was bemused. Work on the repairs to the fabric of our Edwardian house had ceased when Petr, our friendly Czech worker had returned to university last year. Apathy and a lack of funds had meant the bathroom was still untiled. I rushed upstairs. There was a whole line of perfect tiling and the wall area had been prepared. Whatever had come over Otloml? I expected his day to be full of the usual work for the archive. All this and he had put up two blogs! Perhaps he should get up early more often

In my heart, I  know he wants to please me but I have had a day of colleagues in the know (the old friend, now retired, in whom I had confided last month had obviously spilled the beans) My fellow teachers were sympathetic but claimed they had been suspicious of the relationship I had described with Her. Why had they failed to convey these thoughts before Otloml gave way to temptation? Would I have listened? I had received four hateful anonymous letters more than two years ago, before Her move to Elgin.Initially very upset I accepted their laughing explanation of nasty minded neighbours with too little to do. After all, I trusted my husband and my friend.

Now I am left with the suspicion that my colleagues pity me. They do not understand how much I love Otloml.

James McAvoy, Morgan Freeman, Angelina Jolie

An accountant who suffers from stress finds out that his father was an assassin and has to revenge his death in order to save his life.

It was very interesting if you exclude the fact that there is no way to curve bullets and no one can actually run like the wind and jump from one building to another without getting killed. Nevertheless it is entertaining to see all that because who cares about reality? We see it everyday and it is ugly. So give us more of that, please.

Angelina Jolie steals the show with her ethereal beauty as always. But she really needs to get more meat on her, because when I see her skinny figure I think of Africa and the poor starving children there. Brad do something.

I won't say more, because I don't want to spoil the fun, but if you are going to the movies you will surely have a good time.

milo ventimiglia/alyssa milano/lauren lee smith-- dir. marc schoelermann

Un film prea-marfa, care dupa parerea mea ii da clasa din start mult mai comercialului "Awake" . Este o incursiune in vietzile catorva studenti medicinisti, care fac practica in cadrul unui dintre cele mai ravnite si elitiste programe de patologie. De fapt, este mai mult o incursiune in mintile bolnave a astora, in care drogurile si sadismul fac legea, in care excitatia sexuala devine de neoprit doar in preajma cadavrelor si a caror singura preocupare este gasirea "crimei perfecte". Inceput totul ca un simplu joc, pornit in subsolul morgai unde ishi faceau practica, incet-incet degenereaza (normal!!), ajungand ca schizofrenia si paranoia sa ia proportzii bilblice, cei 5 fiind ferm convinsi ca totul este posibil, ca pot decide cine traieste sau cine moare. Modul in care e filmat, interioarele alea macabre, lumina verde-rece, coloana sonora, modul in care joaca actorii (in special Ventimiglia), atmosfera, TOTUL este perfect ca sa potentzeze povestea bolnava, care se apropie destul de mult (in sensul bun al cuvantului) de "Crash 96"....parerea mea este ca titlul se refera mai mult la schinbarile si suferinta ale acelor minti bolnave, care frizeaza patologicul, decat la anatomopatologie (ceea ce "studiau" aia acolo) ......MERITA VAZUT !!!                        VIEW TRAILER

- The legal proceededing against him concerning my scratched car and him being questioned by the police will reach him with the next 4-5 weeks.

- Fucker insulted my GF on the phone as a "slut, "whore" and with other bad words during a phone call last week. She now will file a complaint against him for slander. We will go to the police within the coming days.

- And, my GF will file a restraining order against fucker for threatening her indirectly to injure her face "Cos she looks prettier" now than when she was together with him and should better be careful, and saying he wants her and me to be unhappy, he "has lost everything" and is not afraid of jail and also wants her out of "his" (former) home so he can move back in (which is a wrong assumption, its an apartment supported by government social welfare for rent and my GF is now the only person renting this apartment. Only families get such apartments, no singles. He has been kicked out of the apartment by a court order. He will never get back, what an idiot, he only looks backward, not forward).

I love it. I will help my GF to my best ability to get all the paperwork done and kick fucker's ass. Fucker will soon have three legal cases running against him, even if only the restraining order will be successful, he will get lot's of headaches and trouble. And in case he does something stupid again in the future the police and judges will more likely believe my GF even if there are again no witnesses . Yes! I want revenge and I seem to slowly get it. If you ever read this, fucker: "Fuck you, you don't mess with me."

"I am the god of hellfire - and I bring you fire!"

Yesterday my GF spent the afternoon and night at my place with her kids. We had sex in the bedroom after lunch resulting in me kneeling above her in bed and her lying below me with an open mouth. Needless to say I came in her mouth and she swallowed it all.

At night we had sex again. This time I started to slightly spank her back and discovered that she enjoyed it. Even harder spanking later on she answered with mouns while she sucked my cock. Later she told me she would not mind if we repeated this spanking during sex, she loved that feeling. Oh my, it's getting better and better: My GF likes spanking... me too. Will try a leather belt in the near future and see if she will go along with that. I like to be dominant. She has since yesterday moved up from 90% sexual satisfaction to 95% satiscation on my sexual satisfaction scale. Great.

The pranks are somewhat tame, for example, buying instant lottery tickets that claim you won huge sums of cash, jumping out of closets to scare someone, locking someone in the bathroom with bungee cords, etc....

But when you mess with me I will take it to the next level. 

They have now messed with me.  Yesterday they covered my car, which I park on the lot and close to the main road, with for sale signs and my phone number.  Not a bad prank but now it is my turn.

I have had tons of time to plot and plan on my pranks back before they even messed with me.  Yesterday I put plan one into play.  The main person involved with the for sale prank came out to find her car also covered in for sale signs and wrapped up in shrink wrap.  Lots of shrink wrap.  A whole roll of shrink wrap.

For those that don't know what shrink wrap is, it is like large industrial sized clear plastic wrap.  We use it to wrap up pallets of merchandise to be shipped on trucks so that it does not shift on the pallet during shipping.

Other employees and a few customers saw the wrapped car and found it very funny but the real laughter began when she went out to the parking lot and found her car completely wrapped up and encapsulated in the shrink wrap.  Even she laughed.

Going through my head was that ditty that goes "What ever you can do I can do better!!!!"

You betchya @$$ I can!

As I was leaving work she says - It's on now!

I certainly hope so.

What ever you can do I can do better!

Only in Americ—erm...Australia.  Here in the land of the free we tend to just chop off the guy's genitals. Click the image to join the nearly half-million other people who've visited this particularly delightful eBay auction. Less than eight hours left to bid!

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George Lucas: “I Don’t Have to Listen….Star Wars is Mine.”

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Star Wars creator George Lucas is so confident about his abilities as a filmmaker, he refuses to listen to moviegoers.  The movies in the Star Wars series have attracted a massive worldwide audience, but Lucas insists he never listens to what fans say about his films.  The 57-year-old director says, “I’m able to tell the story the way it’s meant to be told, and I don’t have to listen to what [studio] market research does.  They would be listening to the fans  - and these people think you should be doing this, and these people think you should have that character in there.  These [stories] are not put together by a marketing department.  They’re purely sort of a creative act that was created to tell a great story.”

--------2008 insert---------

Clearly, in the wake of "CLone Wars," characters are nothing more than creations of the marketing department. They serve no other purpose.

--------2008 insert---------

A long time ago (approximately 25 years) in a theater not so far away... It was a time of revolution. Star Wars hit the screen. The movie changed the face of film-making with a visual and technical revolution and brought forth a story literally of mythic proportion. Star Wars ripped through our collective core as it became our society’s “global campfire fable”: our modern day myth depicting the hero’s journey: The journey that is depicted time and time again throughout every culture (See George Lucas’s mentor: Joseph Campbell: “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”.) It tapped in and re-connected us to our own deep down truths, desires, and quests. The story had a spiritual message in that it reminded us of the light and dark sides of the force: the mystery, energy, cause, and consciousness behind all action. It also reminded us of how using our feelings over relying on technology is the key to transcendence, success, and ”goodness”. Any of us can at any time choose the higher or lower road: the good or dark side.

CUT TO: Twenty Two Years Later.

It is a time of rebellion. He who once was the master has fallen. What once was the mythical story of the fall to and later redemption from the dark side has now left the realm of story and myth and incarnated into its own fall from good (redemption still withstanding.)

With Episode I, I expected George Lucas to choose the higher road, delivering yet another message, a responsible mythic story. Is that too much to expect? If it’s called STAR WARS, I expect it. Instead it was like Moses coming down from the mountain top (after 22 freaking years) and delivering a Jeff Foxworthy one-liner. You’ve probably heard all the criticism of the latest movies to date, and you either agree or disagree, but I submit something beyond criticism here. I submit that, in fact, this movie was created by Darth Lucas. Geroge is now Darth. My support is all based specifically on George Lucas’s own criteria, definitions, comments, and beliefs. 

Here’s the simplest analogy to get: Like Anakin Skywalker, there once was a time when young George was inspired and created with his heart. But, now, like Vader using his technical prowess to survive, Darth Lucas created a “monster” revolving around and relying nearly completely on life-support from pure advanced technology. No one can contest the fact that if you remove the digital technology from “The Phantom Menace” and “Atttack of the Clones” there would be nothing left, short of a few apathetic actors in front of a blue screen. Truly, it is a prime example of complex, sophisticated, advanced technology OVER humanity. George’s original story is about humanity and machinery at odds. “Where does the machine leave off and the human begin?” “How much humanity needs to be lost before we no longer recognize the being as its true self but a machine?” “Like Luke, will George see that machinery is taking him over like Vader?” “How much CGI and special effects are too much when the heart/humanity is sacrificed?” “Is George now more machine than man?” His film certainly is.

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EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- MAY 1999:

Q: WIRED: How much of this film was created in the computer? 

A: Lucas: Ninety-five percent. There are only 200 shots we didn't alter digitally, and we're running them through the computer anyway to have an all-digital master. 

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EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- 1997:

Mark Hamill once remarked, "I have a sneaking suspicion that if there were a way to make movies without actors, George would do it." He's close now. On the digital backlot, acting is a distributed quantity, parceled out among artists, CG animators, voice talent, motion capture technicians, sound designers, and others. The primary actor becomes the filmmaker's imagination. 

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So, there goes the humanity, and in comes total control. It may sound good disguised as “the filmmaker’s imagination” but there is now no room for participation, collective vision, or balance. And I also submit that it is not the job of the director to be an actor. That is, oddly enough, the actor’s job. What a loss if these human beings (the very reason that we can relate at all to a film) are not allowed to contribute in unpredictable, spontaneous, soulful, real, unique ways. Ways that are the very nature of life itself. Where is the compassion, comradery and consensus?

And I am reminded of the bit of Star Wars trivia and philosophy that I read on the back of a Pepsi Can (part of the Star Wars Collector’s series.) “Qui-Gon Jinn: A compassionate Jedi Master, he is highly attuned to the force. But he shuns consensus and follows his own path, despite the consequences.” Sound familiar? And we all know the shit that hit the Empire’s fan when Qui-Gon did his own thing. In “Attack of the Clones” Yoda speaks of his reservations for Anakin because of the boy’s arrogance. He even mentions that he sees it showing up in the older Jedis (Obi-Wan.) 

I cannot help but look at what occurs to me as a complete breach of integrity. Not that I am saying right or wrong, I’m just pointing out what looks like hypocrisy to me.

Lucas’s own words describing how arrogance is the unraveling of mastery.

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EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- MAY 1999:

Q: WIRED: This newest story seems more mature - a more ambiguous chronicling of Anakin's drift to the dark side of the Force. Have you ever been tempted by the dark side? 

A: Lucas: Everyone has the dark side within, so there's a constant struggle to do the right thing. The good side is compassion and caring about other people, the dark side is greed and self-centeredness. 

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Greed and self-centeredness! He said it, I didn’t.....

In the next paragraph George goes on to talk about LUCAS ARTS and LUCAS LEARNING. LUCAS this and LUCAS that. I would venture a guess that he also has several other LUCAS companies. This strikes me at least a tad self-centered. Me, mine, my, myself, and I.

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EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- MAY 1999:

Q: WIRED: Would you consider handing the Star Wars reins to someone else? 

A: Lucas: Nope. Even for Episode 5 and 6, which I did not direct, I was very involved - basically the same as directing. This is my thing. 

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Alrighty then. MY thing! My my my my my my mine! Hey, ok. Then don’t sit there and lecture me (even subtly or humbly)  about greed and self-centeredness. And I propose that STAR WARS no longer belongs to George Lucas. We can go back and forth about artists’ rights and all that stuff, but let’s take a bigger step back and look at the whole picture, from a mythic point of view. Stories are brought forth from the collective sub-consciousness into the collective consciousness. You don’t have to believe this, but I am telling you that this is what myth revolves around (the 'same' story told over and over)...ask Lucas’s “Yoda”, his mentor: Joseph Campbell. (Ok, I know he’s dead...is that a problem? Believe me, he at minimum lives on in his works. His spirit must be rolling over seeing what's happening.) Star Wars is now a part of our society. My God, it is a part of every media-based culture on the earth now. It has taken on a life of its own (like any authentic, active myth.) Ignore the fact that thousands of artisans and creators have ALSO contributed to its birth (not just father George). It now lives on beyond them. Does a living, growing, evolving child BELONG to the parent? (In any case, I believe that the “Menace” was child abuse, and I move we take that child away now...before God knows what happens to it. We’ve already been betrayed in that the force itself has been de-frocked..the mystery evaporated...the magic gone. )

In an interview with Bill Moyers, Lucas further commented on the good versus dark sides of the force. Paraphrasing Lucas he said that his depiction of the good side (or the good side itself) is to remind you that you are part of a community, and you must think about the welfare of the community above the welfare of yourself....you can treat people with dignity or Not....You can be a part of the problem.

So this gets right back to the argument that STAR WARS belongs to the community now (if we truly are interested in the welfare of the community...not the welfare of the “little self.”

Lucas in Wired states: (EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- MAY 1999:)“But I don't judge my movies by how well the public accepts them. My own yardstick is how much have I enjoyed the process, and am I proud of the results?”  And George has said time again that he does not make the movies for the public, he makes them for himself. Ok, fine, but then they clearly are not made with any responsibility to the welfare of the community.

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EXCERPT FROM WIRED MAGAZINE- MAY 1999:

Q: WIRED: Is it hard to astound moviegoers who've grown up on a steady diet of films like Starship Troopers? 

A: LUCAS: Astounding them is not my job. My job is to tell a story. 

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I suppose one could argue if there was a story told here. In my opinion, nothing was served.In a sad commentary, I believe a powerful forum for truth, meaning, and message was missed. What an opportunity...the biggest “campfire” ever. People from all walks of this world will see this film. I ask you: “Is it not irresponsible to not deliver to the welfare of the community?” Yes, as author-creator Lucas has defended himself and claimed that he could do darn well whatever entertaining thing he wanted to do, but I say that’s exactly what the “DARK ME” would say...not the “LIGHT ME”...the good side of me. Making an extended video-game with silly violence and boxcar loads of superficial shallow commercialized characters is not something that would be delivered by “the good side” of anything. This is irresponsible to the welfare of the community. (You could say it is a “Menace to Society!”) It doesn’t nourish anything. I’d say it fosters aggressiveness in children....those cool competitive pod racers...those cool light sabers and fights.... Am I alone here? Qui-Gon, the Jedi master, even goes so far as to cheat on a throw of the dice. There’s a role-model.

I might also add that the dark side is total control at the expense of all openness and vulnerability.

No other movie in history (especially a multi-million blockbuster-power movie) has so been controlled by one man. One vision. The Phantom menace is completely owned, written, directed, and controlled by Lucas. With his early success, he bought his freedom, but he also created his wall, his control, his regression from participation and feedback. I also heard that he only handed out one page of the script per day so that even the actors were kept totally in the dark. (Dark!) Talk about control...and we need not even talk about how that affected performance. Freedom sounds good, and it is. Yet we are also able to easily choose a lower road in freedom. In response to a question about digital film-making (In WIRED MAY 1999), Lucas responds with a statement that sums up the fact that with freedom comes responsibility: 

LUCAS:” ..... Now the huge amount of freedom ultimately demands a lot more discipline.”

I believe this, but did Lucas exercise discipline in “The Menace”? It was more like a spoiled kid throwing all of his toys everywhere in a big “look at me” and “this is mine” fit. A difference between becoming an adult versus staying a child (this is a natural evolution and a key arc to every mythic tale) is responsibility and discipline: responsible creation. And how can one ever really be free if he is holding on so tightly to what is “his”?

What a monumental bit of irony....the man to bringforth the hugest modern day myth outlining the struggles of good versus evil, light versus dark, falls into the darkness himself. He literally does not hear what he is saying or see what he is doing.

I personally do not subscribe to the Bible as direct truth. In fact, it is a perfect example of Myth: stories that deliver truths as metaphor: A guide to evolving in life. Good thing LUCAS FILMS doesn’t own that one. The prequel to the Bible would be a slap-stick rally, but oh wouldn’t that funny whimsical side-kick to Adam and Eve be funny! And just wait ‘til you see the all new CGI creatures on the arc!

Anakin was ultimately freed by his son, Luke. Will George be freed from the Darkside? Will he return? In the Bill Moyers interview Moyers commented that Star Wars is the story about Darth Vader...How do we get Darth Vader back to that little boy...with a good heart?”

As for me.....I just want to restore freedom to the galaxy....

SIDE BAR: Oddly enough, when Star Wars hit in 1977, It totally changed my life. There is no exaggeration in stating that  it created who I am in Hollywood today. In ‘77 I became a student of movies and myth and the apprentice of special effects. Now, 22 years later, I am an accomplished special effects artist, and yet I completely see how effects and technology can be used at the expense of a story, rather than being used to tell a story. I dare not say I am a master of film and stories. I will always be a student.

P.S. One can only truly hate something that one cares about and once loved (and deeply albeit hopelessly wants to love again.) I think hope here now resides in the same ranks as that of abused children or battered wives.

Other men take to wearing leathers and riding unsuitably dangerous motorbikes when they feel old age is creeping up on them, If only that had been Otloml's escape! Flexing his penis in two affairs may be his equivalent. An article in the "Times" yesterday suggests that men are more likely to cheat on their wives when they reach mid fifties. Otloml was obviously an early developer. Something to do with a late reproductive urge too.Well She is still of a reproductive age ! The study does suggest that married people are happier than the single. At the moment I think we would both seriously contest that view.

My hope is that with the cooling of the sun in these late summer days, his blood will cool too. I want the old partner back. The caring, considerate one who always seemed to want to share our experiences and thoughts. Can he really have vanished totally? What do I need to do to bring him back?

His return is certainly on my mind this evening. After rushing off up north last night, he seems still to be trying to work on the memorabilia idea. This I totally understand. I just don't know how many of his text messages from last night to believe. Certainly he claimed to be unable to contact Alex with whom I thought he'd stay. He did seem to realize how little I liked the idea of Her house as a stopover. She had of course offered this comfort. And how many others? Can I really believe the implied stay in a lay-by, shielded by big lorries? I want to,  but he saw her this morning by his own admission and probably used her house to access the Internet and put up his blogs. Yes. He now has two. One the original Rockmine and a new Ballerina Ballroom blog. This he hopes to use as a stepping stone for the memories of habituees of the Ballroom from its heyday as a rock venue in the late sixties/early seventies. There do seem to be many locals with long memories so he may well learn some interesting things. Yes, I approve of what he is trying to do. It is just so awfully close to Her! How many miles from Nairn to Elgin?

Sadly, he" forgot'  to take his phone charger so I have been warned off the texting. I have little idea of when he will return, though he has just apologized and said he will make it up to me. Dreadlocked dog is not too happy either and once again I have no appetite for any of the food we bought together in anticipation I thought of a good day together. Otloml just fails to understand how much I miss him. He would probably not be happy at my suspicion, but I am so miserable. No idea of how he got on with the reporter woman either, though she has supposedly "interviewed" him. Nothing to do but wait and hope.

Being victimized by abuse seems unreal when it first occurs. Those abused say to themselves, This isn’t really happening. It can’t be. To most, it seems surreal. It’s almost always unexpected. That’s what makes it such a violation of your person—of your soul.

It’s almost like someone is pointing a gun in your face—but not exactly. It’s more like a knife, which cuts your soul and leaves you bleeding emotionally—with a wound that seems like it will never heal.

Soon enough, every aspect of the abuse becomes real, however, as the reality comes crashing down on you, producing pain in every fiber of your being. Because the pain is often unbearable—and the wrong so acute, the anger that comes from it consumes you, making you lash out at your abuser.

But that’s not all. Because the abuse is often completely unjustified, you often lashes out at God as well, don’t you? You blame Him for it, even though it hurts Him as much as it did you. You ask:

• Why would You let this happen to me?

• I didn’t deserve this?

• If You would allow this happen, I don’t want anything to do with You ever again.

• Christians are hypocrites. I’ll never have anything to do with them again.

God has heard it all many times. All of these reactions are normal—even typical; but if you allow any to rule your life, you’ll never be all that God intended for you to be. You’ll be a half person, living out your years in ignominy and bitterness. God doesn’t want that for you, but you have to want it as well.

If you’re willing to go to any lengths to get out of the pit you’re in, recovery can begin—but not before. It takes effort—real effort. Are you ready to begin. If so, make the commitment—make it today.

I was thinking today about the terrible accounts of survivors of Srebrinice which I watched on the television at the time, and on the dreadful liberties taken by the Russian troops in Georgia, a sovereign state, just this month.

My particular attention was focused on those doing such unspeakable things to innocent people, who had done them personally no harm whatsoever. What made them continue with the attacks on men, women and children past the point of torture?

A man described on British television news how he had been beaten, and his sister raped, in front of their father, who had to sit and watch and do nothing, on pain of death. For what? They were civilian, and children at that. 

Brian at The House of Inanna speaks on this subject with force and clarity today, and I commented; I remembered then that I had begun this post and it was saved in my drafts folder. I want to finish it now, because I believe we need to try and face these things and to talk about them, in every walk of society. Darfur? Is this beleaguered region in the news much? No. And if what's happening there was happening in London, how different the story would be.

Where do humans get the ability to fundamentally ignore the evil happening a world away? Nowhere's very far from anywhere now; isn't that what we're told? 

I try hard not to make this an issue about violence against women, but really, it is. We are perceived to be weak both on our own account and on the account of our children, and therefore a target for special cruelty. Beatrice, in Much Ado, when faced with the disgrace of her cousin, berates herself, saying, 'Oh, if I were a man!'. I don't want to be a man. I think most men might disassociate themselves from men like these.

I want men of violence to stop using their sexuality against women and children in war zones, and against their fellow men by extension. 

So when we consider the Christian embodiment of Hell, is it that we want such perpetrators to burn eternally? Perhaps. I don't understand the mad corruption that comes over a person to cause them to act so atrociously. They are truly the furthest from grace in such a state. In any case, neo-pagans don't have a hell to which to condemn the guilty; so what then do we do?

Perhaps we ought to act here, now, in this life. One innocent life saved must be worth it - or am I being unbelievably idealistic?

There are even special sections for "special" people. There's a clothing section on the other side of the lawn and garden section that specializes in clothing for the developmentally challenged. It's full of brightly colored shirts, Velcro strap shoes, and size 42-27 jeans. It's even got an entire rack of fanny packs.

Lonely? Go pasts the infants section through the double doors. You will find dozens of unwed teenage mothers looking for a daddy. Can you believe it? Some other idiot put in all that work for a family and just lets you take over. They come in all shapes and races too. A few years ago it was just black girls and the occasional Puerto Rican. Now though you can find a Russian, Mexican, Guatemalan, Brazilian, Korean, Aboriginal Australian, one legged Swedish, and a trailer park 16 year old with triplets. WOW!! Just imagine, you went in for milk and came home with an entire family. In order to show you their charitable side Wal-Mart will offer a 17% discount on diapers and similac formula. God bless 'em.

Has the dope man in your neighborhood been locked up on charges? Head to the back door of the pharmacy. They will throw random pills out side at you. You never know what kind of high you'll get. Maybe Oxycontin, maybe hormone steroids. All for an everyday low price of $2.50. Tyrone can't beat that price, besides his ass is locked up for at least three years.

Need a baby sitter? Just pull up to the front of the store open the door and tell the kids to get a cart. They'll go in the store, see the variety of things to play with, and will be entertained for hours. Go and get your nails done then have lunch with an old acquaintance. When you get back to the store just go over to lost and found at the customer service desk. Kids get separated from their parents so often in these stores, that the manager won't even question where you have been for the last 6 hours. He'll assume you've been enjoying low low prices and high savings.

Have you been unsuccessful in finding a nuclear weapon? Go over to sporting goods and press the call button for employee assistance. Then walk over to the baseball equipment and look for the man with the mustache. He'll take you out back to an unmarked white van. You can then start your shopping. Hell, I'm pretty sure that if the government wanted to find suspected terrorist hiding in the U.S. they would just check the local Wal-Mart stores. Why would terrorists be in plain sight to the public? Because everyone needs something from a Wal-Mart. Whether it's the basic necessities or enriched Uranium, it's there.

Are you looking for one of those things on the side of McCain's face? Go over to cosmetics. You can find them in any color and various sizes. Now you can look like a Presidential nominee. If that certain lady in your life is looking for a Hilary Clinton style hair-do, Wal-Mart carries gels, mouses, weaves, permanents, and wigs in every celebrity form.

Late for a Klan meeting? Wal-Mart brags three different hood/robe combos. You'll be the envy of all of your hate filled brothers. You can even find a giant cross, gas can, and kerosene. They may even help you light it on fire if you ask.

What else could you want? A baby, an ape, an STD it's all there. You could even get an STD from a baby ape if you wanted. Got a big girl fetish, a skinny girl fetish, an acne thing, a donkey lust? Find it at Wal-Mart. Need fresh breast milk for you PB and J? How about stem cells for that back pain? Want a porn stars clean up rag? You can find it at Wal-Mart.

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With the exception of nap time or while Porter is at school, at any given moment in my house you can hear what I like to call the "yank-scream." Usually it sets itself up as Gracie playing quietly with a toy in some room. Porter finding out that she's happily playing and creeps up on her. Then he yanks away whatever it is that she is playing with and runs off giggling while she screams loud enough to make the dog run into the wall until she passes out. The yank-scream goes on all day long. In fact, as I am typing this Porter is upstairs crying in the time-out room because he just pulled the yank-scream. 

A few weeks ago the kids were in the bathroom taking a bath and I was sitting on the floor next to the tub watching them play. Porter had found a little toy man and was putting the little man into the submarine and then taking him back out again. He was playing quietly and very involved in whatever he was imagining as he dove the submarine under the water.

Gracie was facing him and splashing around in the tub playing with a little toy fish. All of the sudden she got the strangest look on her face. She leaned forward and to the left to let up one side of her bottom, as if to "let one go," and shoved her hand down in between her butt cheeks. She then promptly shoved that same hand straight up Porter's nose. Eric was in the bathroom with me when this happened and we both stopped in mid-sentence with the "Wha Happen?" look on our faces. Porter, still happily and quietly playing with his submarine and man, continued on completely oblivious to what I can only call the "fart hand" as it is repeatedly shoved down in-betwixt the cheeks of his sister and then rammed back up into his nose. To this day he still has no idea that he was "testing" whatever it was emanating from his sister's nether regions.

All I can say for Gracie is that she clearly understands the saying:

"Revenge is a dish best served cold." 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Revenge