Okay people, here at long last, I give you, the much anticipated conclusion to the terrifically acclaimed Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains! Enjoy!
The Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains
Edition 1, Part 3
Back at NASA, Captain Gorilla Arms had finally restored the flow of power to the rocket, and was watching as it launched.
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,” he chanted as the rocket rose high into the air. A large monitor came suddenly to life as the rocket entered space, and Kevin could see the meteor. Half of it was hidden by the shadow of the moon, and it looked like it was moving in slow motion, but one of the big science-guys told him it wasn’t. As the rocket neared, someone started a countdown, and the whole room got excited like it was New Year’s Eve. As the countdown came to zero, all the big science-guys turned and kissed all the little science-girls in the room, and only Kevin was left to go, “Hey, wasn’t it supposed to DESTROY the meteor?” And all of the science-people looked to see the rocket planted solidly, yet doing nothing, in the rock of the meteor.
“Oh, DAMN!” swore the science guys, and returned to their important-looking desks. But just then, the other side of the meteor showed, and everyone could see that the underside of the meteorite was wired with explosives!!!
“I know who did this,” Kevin stated in his best I’m-the-superhero-who-knows-who-did-this voice.
“This is the work of the Electric Head! Look at all those wires!”
All the science-people were working frantically at their desks. Kevin turned to the nearest one.
“Can you do something about this?” He asked. The science-guy looked sheepish.
“No, we’re just trying to look busy. Uh-look at the armadillo!”
Kevin took one last look at the frozen scene of the explosives-covered meteorite, and took off to find the Fab Five. As he rose high into the air, he said over his shoulder-
“Never fear, the 3D’s and the Captains are here! Oh yeah, and it’s 'ducks'.”
Back at the crime fighting basement, Kevin tried to tell the others what was happening, but he was so excited it came out all wrong.
“Rocket-explosives-destroyed-meteor.”
“YAY!!”
“No, wait. Rocket-desrtoyed-meteor-explosives.”
“YAY!!”
“No. no. Meteor-destroyed-rocket-explosives.”
“Hun?”
“Uh- Rocket-no-destroy-meteor-with explosives! Yay, I got it!”
“So let me get this straight. The rocket did nothing to the meteor?” Hugh questioned Kevin.
“Abslou-Positi-Cert-You bet.”
“Even though it had explosives?” Hugh tried to understand.
“BECAUSE it had explosives.”
“I don’t get it.” Hugh gave up after a minute of pondering.
“I think he means, the meteor has the explosives, right Kev?” Super Diva asked.
Kevin nodded vehemently, as he drained yet another glass of V-8.
Finally deciding that they had to do something, all six (Kevin was now caught up in the news of the day), flew outside. As the self-proclaimed-leader, (despite his injured and now-badaged hand) , Hugh took off first, telling them to follow him. He flew straight up, and the others stood where they were for a few minutes until Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything came crashing back down to earth, gasping and coughing and wheezing.
“That happened the last time, too. Hugh, remember how we need air supplies if we want to go into space? Hun?” They asked him, and Hugh’s only response was a strained, “Look at the ducks!”
Sneaky Mark got the whole incident on film, from behind some bushes, laughing evilly.
Retrieving the crime fighting air packs from the crime fighting garage, Jeff huffed and puffed as he passed them out- those things were heavy!
The 3D’s and Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything and Captain Gorilla Arms all swung their packs easily onto their backs, then the Captains helped Jeff with his. Breathing bottled air (yuck!), they flew up into space and surrounded the meteorite. Hugh told Cassie telepathically to cut the wires to the explosives and disarm them, while the others were to start punching the meteorite, because Hugh had seen an episode of Superman where that had worked.
Cassie came back soon with a handful of pink wires, and Hugh moaned ‘Not again!’ telepathically as he flew back down to earth to repair the crime fighting Barbie power wheels.
‘I’ll get the wires!!’ Jeff said telepathically, thinking that it must be better than hurting your hand banging on rocks.
‘We can hear you think, Jeff.’ The others informed him, but let him go take care of it anyway-the only way he could screw it up was to cut the red wire-and no one was stupid enough to cut the red wire.
Over on the other side of the meteorite, Jeff sat with the crime fighting wire cutters, contemplating the mass of silver wires, and one red one, in front of him.
‘Well,’ he thought, (but the others couldn’t hear him telepathically, the meteor’s magnetism was in the way), ‘the right ones to cut at the power plant had been silver- but then there’s this red one that’s different from all the rest and I think I’ll cut that one.’
There was a little illegal-explosives-wires-being-cut-but-not-in-a-good-way click, and the explosives were detonated.
BOOM.
The meteor was destroyed, but our heroes were stranded on the moon cause the blast threw them too far from the earth for them to fly back (no, it didn’t kill them- they’re SUPER), and they had to wait for Hugh to come get them in the crime fighting space shuttle, which unfortunately was only bulit to seat five, and so they had to leave Jeff on the moon.
But that’s okay, because they went down to have a party, and just so that Jeff wouldn’t miss out on the fun, Hugh left him with a bottle of V-8, and promised to come get him, later.
They partied hard for several hours, then, finally tuckered out, they left for home, looking around carefully so as not to be trailed by Sneaky Mark. A day full of crime fighting and partying over, our heroes crawled tiredly into bed, with the feeling of satisfaction over a job well done, and a slight feeling of forgetting something, putting them happily to sleep. Just before she drifted off to dreamland, Bethany asked everyone telepathically, ‘What about Jeff?’ and received everyone’s tired answer, ‘Look at the ducks, Beth, just think about the ducks.’
And their dreams were filled with quacking.
The End
Okay, so it was a little strange, it was a little lame, but we love it. The 3D's and the Captains will forever be in our hearts. Hope you enjoyed it, and who knows, maybe this won't be the last you see of those fantastic heroes.
-Beth
Until next time; Be Super!
-Super Duchess.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
It means "While we live, let us LIVE!"
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I know I haven't updated in a while, and I fully intend to do better in the future. In my defense, I've been a busy little girl lately. I enjoyed a couple of days in Toronto (I got some gorgeous new beads, and saw my friends- it was fantastic to have everyone in the same place!).
It seems like everyone's life is really busy right now; Hugh, a Best of mine, is 'feeling the crunch' in his classes, and I must admit I'm loving hearing all about what he's achieving and enduring in Med school.
Kevin (another circle member), is the first of us to leap out into the 'real world', and he's doing a lot of traveling- it sounds very exciting, involving the Mafia and the pigs (tee hee hee, I said 'pigs'), and I wish him the best of luck.
Lauren is actually putting together a magazine (something I find unfailingly glamorous). I wish her luck, leads, and zzz's!
And me? Well, I haven't caught any mice, though I saw one last night, and said 'hi', but he wasn't very talkative. Work is, well, work, but I'm looking forward to Halloween (I love that holiday). I've also volunteered to write for the McMaster student paper, the Silhouette. I have a couple of books to review for them, and I'm desperately trying to come up with some ideas for a pop culture feature. Lauren has, as usual, been the most help to me in this burgeoning endeavour, a huge deal of thanks goes out to her for her knowledge, advice and encouragement.
And I've been toying with the idea of writing a children's story. Yes, I'm still writing, and lately, more than ever. This is the first time I've had the guts to mention it anywhere, despite being around my mother and all my friends this weekend, and having got off the phone with Lauren not even ten minutes ago. I wonder why I feel comfortable mentioning it here? I know that my friends will read this, so it's strange that I didn't mention it directly to them. I suppose it's the anonymity of the web. I can't decide whether that fact is revelatory, strange, or scary. Probably all three.
In any case, I have no intention of telling you people what I'm writing about. That's for me to know, and my imaginary publisher to find out. Yeah, that dream won't die.
Last but not least, school is rolling along as always. I have an upcoming poster project to do, and I'm taking the opportunity to get back into printmaking, which was an art form that interested me in high school, though I haven't done it in years. I've missed doing art, and until now was always focused on pottery (the medium I like best and happen to be best at), which is unfortunately unavailable to me, since it takes a LOT of money, space, and specific equipment to create. Lino-cut prints (cutting a design into a linoleum-like material, and pressing a page onto the inked plate to create the image) is the other medium that really caught my interest way-back-when, and the materials are a lot more accessible to me here and now. I intend to do my project in this form, and depending on how that turns out, I might just continue with it. I'm pretty excited about getting back into the art thing, even if it is just by, and for, myself. Oh! The poster design I have in mind is based on an Art Nouveau woodcut print book cover done by Arthur H. Mackmurdo in 1883, though I'll replace the title with something, possibly "Dum vivimus, vivamus", though that's still a rough idea. We'll see, and I promise to let you all know how it turns out.
So, for now, I guess that's me. Hope you out there are all doing well. If you're not, listen to some good music, I think that's the surest way to get better. Never be afraid to dance like an idiot, especially when you're alone.
And I can't think of a good sign-off line, like 'peace out', but less lame right now. I'm sure there are people out there (I could name a few myself), who could come up with something for me, but I guess that's why I made my address what it is. There might be something witty to say right now, but I am, as ever, never as clever.
It seems like everyone's life is really busy right now; Hugh, a Best of mine, is 'feeling the crunch' in his classes, and I must admit I'm loving hearing all about what he's achieving and enduring in Med school.
Kevin (another circle member), is the first of us to leap out into the 'real world', and he's doing a lot of traveling- it sounds very exciting, involving the Mafia and the pigs (tee hee hee, I said 'pigs'), and I wish him the best of luck.
Lauren is actually putting together a magazine (something I find unfailingly glamorous). I wish her luck, leads, and zzz's!
And me? Well, I haven't caught any mice, though I saw one last night, and said 'hi', but he wasn't very talkative. Work is, well, work, but I'm looking forward to Halloween (I love that holiday). I've also volunteered to write for the McMaster student paper, the Silhouette. I have a couple of books to review for them, and I'm desperately trying to come up with some ideas for a pop culture feature. Lauren has, as usual, been the most help to me in this burgeoning endeavour, a huge deal of thanks goes out to her for her knowledge, advice and encouragement.
And I've been toying with the idea of writing a children's story. Yes, I'm still writing, and lately, more than ever. This is the first time I've had the guts to mention it anywhere, despite being around my mother and all my friends this weekend, and having got off the phone with Lauren not even ten minutes ago. I wonder why I feel comfortable mentioning it here? I know that my friends will read this, so it's strange that I didn't mention it directly to them. I suppose it's the anonymity of the web. I can't decide whether that fact is revelatory, strange, or scary. Probably all three.
In any case, I have no intention of telling you people what I'm writing about. That's for me to know, and my imaginary publisher to find out. Yeah, that dream won't die.
Last but not least, school is rolling along as always. I have an upcoming poster project to do, and I'm taking the opportunity to get back into printmaking, which was an art form that interested me in high school, though I haven't done it in years. I've missed doing art, and until now was always focused on pottery (the medium I like best and happen to be best at), which is unfortunately unavailable to me, since it takes a LOT of money, space, and specific equipment to create. Lino-cut prints (cutting a design into a linoleum-like material, and pressing a page onto the inked plate to create the image) is the other medium that really caught my interest way-back-when, and the materials are a lot more accessible to me here and now. I intend to do my project in this form, and depending on how that turns out, I might just continue with it. I'm pretty excited about getting back into the art thing, even if it is just by, and for, myself. Oh! The poster design I have in mind is based on an Art Nouveau woodcut print book cover done by Arthur H. Mackmurdo in 1883, though I'll replace the title with something, possibly "Dum vivimus, vivamus", though that's still a rough idea. We'll see, and I promise to let you all know how it turns out.
So, for now, I guess that's me. Hope you out there are all doing well. If you're not, listen to some good music, I think that's the surest way to get better. Never be afraid to dance like an idiot, especially when you're alone.
And I can't think of a good sign-off line, like 'peace out', but less lame right now. I'm sure there are people out there (I could name a few myself), who could come up with something for me, but I guess that's why I made my address what it is. There might be something witty to say right now, but I am, as ever, never as clever.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Mom’s Yummy Jambalaya
Well it's been another- unsurprisingly- rainy day in Hamilton. I went to class and went to work, and other than frizzed-out hair and sore feet, I'm not all that worse for wear. I did make a point of finally getting to the hardware store and purchasing a brand-spankin-new, shiny mousetrap (it's called the "Tin Cat"- I love it! It makes me think of the cast of Cats doing their own rendition of the Wizard of Oz.) My mousetrap is a flat square, reuseable, totally humane contraption (unintended pun, sorry), that can catch multiple mice at a time (I like that!). I put Ritz crackers in it and set it in a corner of my room, but I didn't catch anything. Of course, I only had it down for a half-hour, and it's probably a good thing I didn't catch them- I don't know what I'd do with them this late at night. I'm so disgusted, though. Even though I bought the ONLY humane trap the store had, it still came with a piece of paper inside that suggested:
"Submerge trap in water for quick disposal of rodents!"
Eew! Hello, you are the one company that makes a humane trap, and you still have to proverbially sully your hands with that suggestion? Shame.
Plus, because a friend is sleeping over, I'm sleeping on the floor- with the mice. Oh well, it looks like another opportunity for selective memory loss.
I really should get something better for guests (or me) to sleep on when they visit. I can't afford a good blow-up, but I wonder if I could hang a hammock...
Yeah, I want a hammock!
Okay people, I'm gonna go out and get a hammock. You all get in out of the rain, dry yourselves off, and if you're chilled to the bone, here's another Mom recipe:
Mom’s Yummy Jambalaya
Mild Italian Sausage
Chicken (boneless)
Worchester Sauce
2 lg. onions
4 stalks celery
2 peppers
Garlic
Olive oil
2 Bay leaves
1 Tsp. cayenne
Salt + pepper
2½-3 cups rice.
Liquid- either: Chicken stock, or sm. tomatoes, or tbsp. brown sugar, oil + flour (roux) and water.
Steam sausage, let cool.
Cook the chicken in the sausage drippings plus a little Worchester.
Slice sausages.
Dice onion, celery and peppers, sauté in garlic, chicken juices and olive oil.
Combine all with liquids and rice, cook covered 15-30 minutes, depending on consistency.
Mom’s tip: remember that what you’re aiming for is as much flavour as you can pack in. Think about this when picking your liquids.
And this is one of those dishes that just gets better with time. Freezes perfectly!
Enjoy everyone, and have a good night. As for me, I'm sleeping with the mouses.
"Submerge trap in water for quick disposal of rodents!"
Eew! Hello, you are the one company that makes a humane trap, and you still have to proverbially sully your hands with that suggestion? Shame.
Plus, because a friend is sleeping over, I'm sleeping on the floor- with the mice. Oh well, it looks like another opportunity for selective memory loss.
I really should get something better for guests (or me) to sleep on when they visit. I can't afford a good blow-up, but I wonder if I could hang a hammock...
Yeah, I want a hammock!
Okay people, I'm gonna go out and get a hammock. You all get in out of the rain, dry yourselves off, and if you're chilled to the bone, here's another Mom recipe:
Mom’s Yummy Jambalaya
Mild Italian Sausage
Chicken (boneless)
Worchester Sauce
2 lg. onions
4 stalks celery
2 peppers
Garlic
Olive oil
2 Bay leaves
1 Tsp. cayenne
Salt + pepper
2½-3 cups rice.
Liquid- either: Chicken stock, or sm. tomatoes, or tbsp. brown sugar, oil + flour (roux) and water.
Steam sausage, let cool.
Cook the chicken in the sausage drippings plus a little Worchester.
Slice sausages.
Dice onion, celery and peppers, sauté in garlic, chicken juices and olive oil.
Combine all with liquids and rice, cook covered 15-30 minutes, depending on consistency.
Mom’s tip: remember that what you’re aiming for is as much flavour as you can pack in. Think about this when picking your liquids.
And this is one of those dishes that just gets better with time. Freezes perfectly!
Enjoy everyone, and have a good night. As for me, I'm sleeping with the mouses.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
The 3D's and the Captains- Part 2
Okay, so I haven't been feeling well for two days, and I got out of my night class early- meaning that I actually have time to make myself something to eat- and what do I do? I have a caramel sundae. Yay me.
The upshot of this is, you people don't get to read me rambling on about my day. I have melting ice cream waiting for me, and my fingers are sticky. Here's another installment of our favourite super heroes for you. Enjoy!
The Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains
Edition 1, Part 2
Meanwhile, at the Electric Head’s Super Top Secret Crime Base, Super Damsel had successfully seduced the guards, and Hugh and she were now secretly secreted in a secret compartment in a secret room of the secret base. In short, they were lost in a maze of air vents.
“I thought you knew the floor plan of this place?” Lauren complained to Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything’s butt.
“I DO know the floor plan of the Super Top Secret Crime Base, unfortunately, we thought it would be more stealthy if we crawled in the vents, and I DON’T know this floor plan!!!” Hugh replied angrily. He hated not being able to do anything, and getting lost in vents was certainly not doing anything. Both of them kept crawling, forgetting completely about their mission amd hoping to find a way out.
Inside the power plant, Super Diva and Super Duchess were wheezing and puffing.
“I can’t believe how much that fighting took out of me!” Super Diva complained.
“Fighting? What are you talking about? I can’t believe how much those feathers are suffocating me! Can you please get your arm out of my face?” Super Duchess whined.
“Oh, sorry.” Super Diva grovelled. “Now what? I guess we have to figure what wires to cut, huh?”
“That’s what Hugh said. Let’s go find those wires.”
Super Diva and Super Duchess began ‘mission impossibil-ing’ down the halls, humming the theme song music, which is probably why it was so easy for the Head’s robot-army to find them.
Super Duchess was the first to notice their robotic company.
“Uh – Cass?” Super Duchess managed to squeak out in fear, not lifting her eyes off of the robots.
Unfortunately, because she was humming too loud, Super Diva failed to hear the warning.
Super Duchess army-rolled between the legs of a robot, just in time to watch a robotic arm wrap around the chicken-clad superhero. “Why didn’t you warn me!?” Super Diva screamed.
“YOU WERE HUMMING TOO LOUD!” Super Duchess cried back.
“Dammit – I gotta learn to lay up on the theme song humming,” Super Diva reprimanded herself, as the robot carried her away. “Well this really sucks. Hey robot, wanna hear about my boyfriend Joooohhhn?”
Immediatley, the robot dropped Super Diva from its clutches, its switchboard circuits frizzing while it monotonely repeated “BOREDOM OVERLOAD, BOREDOM OVERLOAD…”
Super Diva stepped into her crime fighting photo shoot crime fighting pose. “Done and done.” she muttered.
Just then, Super Duchess heard the crime fighting Barbie powerwheels' familiar horn sound – the repeated playing of ‘Home, Home on the Range’. Hugh came running into the building, trying his best to dodge broken bodies and bloody brains. Suddenly, a not quite dead henchmen awoke, throwing a punch in Hugh’s direction. From inside, Super Duchess could hear Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything’s familiar feminine scream.
“Wh-what is it? Hugh – oh my gosh, am I too late?”
Hugh was doubled over on the ground, clutching his hand.
“Hugh – are you dead? What can I do?”
“I-I…”
“Yes…yes…oh God, Hugh, what?”
“I broke a nail!” Hugh began his usual realm of hysterical sobbing. Bethany A scooped him up and carried him piggy back into the plant.
Running through the halls with Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything on her back, Bethany A was just about ready to give up her crime fighting sprint and resort to her crime fighting power walk, when suddenly Super Diva emmerged from a hallway, relieving her of Hugh.
“Here, take this…” Bethany A heaved Hugh into Super Diva’s arms. “I’m gonna go look for the wires.”
“Too late! I cut them already!” Super Diva cried cheerily. She dangled four pink wires in Super Duchess’ face. “Pink? Pink wires, that’s so un-Electric Head like.” Super Duchess remarked. Suddenly, Hugh came to, even though Super Diva was hauling him like a sack of potatoes.
“Those aren’t the energy wires! Those are the ignition wires to the Barbie power wheels!”
“Uh- look at the ducks!” Super Diva said hastily, and left in a pouf of feathers before she could get yelled at.
Almost fully recovered, Hugh managed to stand on his own two feet, though he carried his injured hand before him. Scanning the hallway they were in, hugh motioned to Bethany A which direction they should go in, and they continued down the hall.
“I sure hope Lauren managed to find the Head’s secret command base inside the secret crime base, and detain him somehow from retaliating against our stealing his stolen energy.” Hugh said, and Super Duchess chewed her lip worriedly. Think of the ducks, Laur…she thought, listen to the quacking…
Unfortunately, her thoughts were interrupted by Hugh’s piercing crime fighting excited voice.
“I found them!!” He exclaimed, and pointed to a group of silver wires high above his head.
Figuring out a way to reach the wires, Super Duchess took the crime fighting wire cutters from him and climbed up his back, straining to reach the silver wires.
“Couldn’t you just- Beth- hey, Super Duch-B- Couldn’t you- wouldn’t it be better if you-” Hugh stuttered and tried to say, as Super Duchess’ crime fighting boots landed heavily on his shoulders and smushed into his face.
The wires split with a great illegal-crime-wires-being-cut click-sound, and Super Duchess climbed down from her perch.
Red in the face, Hugh asked her, “Couldn’t you have just FLOWN up there?”
Bethany A lowered her head, embarrassed. “Didn’t think of that...hey! Look at the ducks!!”
Back at the Super Top Secret Crime Base, Super Damsel had just found the Electric Head’s secret base of operations room. She faced him with her Super crime fighting picture pose, and began the familiar to-intimidate-the-enemy-speech, “Evil Villain, have fear! Super Damsel is-”
But she never had time to finish, because suddenly a powerful telepathic-suspended-energy-hurt-you-and-keep-you-immobilized-but-lets-you-listen-to-maniacle-crazy-super-villain-speech beam hit her and raised her high above the floor, and she managed to squeak in fear (Super Damsel is slightly afraid of heights), as she listened to the Electric Head’s lecture.
“You have cut my power supply, but I have much stored up to draw upon, and killing you will take up very little of my power; I will be able to fry you,”
Behind the Head, Super Damsel saw a strange figure dressed in bright red pyjama pants, a loose-fittng white t-shirt with a tight,black, lady’s sports bra over top, and a kitchen sieve on his head, run into the room.
It was Jeff, coming to save the great super hero who had saved him so many times. He ran behind the Electric Head with no fear, thinking ‘I’ll show them all! They’ll see what kind of a super hero I am!!!’
And the Electric Head ignorantly continued his speech. “and take over the world-”
And then suddenly Jeff screamed as he tripped over a giant cord and the Electric Head’s plug came popping out of his giant crime electricity socket in the wall. His speech wound down, his eyes dulled as the lightbulbs behind them went out, and Super Damsel was dropped to the floor. She helped Jeff untangle his feet from the electricity cord, and thanked him for the rescue, promising not to tell just HOW the rescue had gone down. For now, Jeff was a hero, and that was all that mattered. Super Damsel looked down on the pathetic Electric Head. “Oh yeah, Head-y, about your speech – QUACK FUCKING QUACK – Jeff – you did it! I can’t believe you did it! I can’t believe I...I was saved...oh shit...I was saved by you? Oh well…(sigh)…let’s go.”
Super Duchess had cut the wires, and Jeff had killed the Electric Head once and for all. Their mission was practically complete (and Super Duchess was pretty damn sure that the Employee of the Month award was in the bag ). Hugh emitted his ‘Your world is mine’-summon-everybody-together-so-I-can-yell-at-you-and-maybe-watch-a-movie-but-I-haven’t-decided-yet light. He also connected everyone with his telepathic message ‘Hey guys, the wires are clipped! My face is mush, but the wires are clipped!’
Everyone met once again, at the crime fighting basement where Hugh passed around a bottle of celebration V-8 which didn’t really go over all that well. Everyone had relaxed and kicked up their heels (which incidentally caused some minor cuts and bruises, as the Captain’s were too close to the 3D’s stilleto heels) Everyone was laughing and giggling, especially after the cat was let out of the bag about Lauren having to be saved by Jeff. After the hilarity ceased, Hugh calmed them with Jeff’s iniation.
“Jeff, we tried to keep you out of the Fab Five for as long as we could, but the truth is, you’re a big pest who saved the day by ACCIDENTALLY tripping, and since you know way to much about how we operate, we have no other choice but to enter you into our presitigious crime fighting club.”
Jeff beamed heroically, though a little flushed from the walk from the car to the basement.
“Great! What do I have to do to be iniated?” he asked in anticipation
“You must go out in the middle of the street in a pink tu-tu, while mooing like a cow, and hit on a dog while balancing tea cups on your head and wearing diapers around your legs.”
“AGAIN!?!” Jeff moaned.
“Oh yes, that was last weeks Friday night, wasn’t it….alright, you must give me back the keys to the super bike.”
Reluctantly, Jeff handed over the keys, and kneeled before Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything - trying hard not to laugh at Hugh’s velcro shoes. Hugh took a ruler, and knighted Jeff, christening him ‘Captain Pimp-Who-Hopefully-Will-Take-Us-On-Better-Cruising-Rides-Than-Just-Doing-Circles-In-The-Parking-Lot-At-Canatara-Park-When-Someone-Needs-To-Be-Home-At-The-Other-End-Of-Town-And-Is-Willing-To-Pay-For-Gas-But-You-Still-Say-No-Because-Your-Mom-Supossidly-Checks-The-Kilometers-On-Your-Truck-But-We-Know-That’s-A-Lie’.
We just call him Captain Asshole for short.
“Hey wait! What about the rocket?” Super Diva suddenly screamed. And they realized that Kevin was still at NASA, and hadn’t been heard from.
Will Hugh survive the painful broken fingernail? Can Super Damsel endure the indignity of being rescued by *gulp* Jeff? And what is happening with Kevin??? You'll find out next time in the exciting conclusion of The Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains, Edition 1!!!
The upshot of this is, you people don't get to read me rambling on about my day. I have melting ice cream waiting for me, and my fingers are sticky. Here's another installment of our favourite super heroes for you. Enjoy!
The Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains
Edition 1, Part 2
Meanwhile, at the Electric Head’s Super Top Secret Crime Base, Super Damsel had successfully seduced the guards, and Hugh and she were now secretly secreted in a secret compartment in a secret room of the secret base. In short, they were lost in a maze of air vents.
“I thought you knew the floor plan of this place?” Lauren complained to Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything’s butt.
“I DO know the floor plan of the Super Top Secret Crime Base, unfortunately, we thought it would be more stealthy if we crawled in the vents, and I DON’T know this floor plan!!!” Hugh replied angrily. He hated not being able to do anything, and getting lost in vents was certainly not doing anything. Both of them kept crawling, forgetting completely about their mission amd hoping to find a way out.
Inside the power plant, Super Diva and Super Duchess were wheezing and puffing.
“I can’t believe how much that fighting took out of me!” Super Diva complained.
“Fighting? What are you talking about? I can’t believe how much those feathers are suffocating me! Can you please get your arm out of my face?” Super Duchess whined.
“Oh, sorry.” Super Diva grovelled. “Now what? I guess we have to figure what wires to cut, huh?”
“That’s what Hugh said. Let’s go find those wires.”
Super Diva and Super Duchess began ‘mission impossibil-ing’ down the halls, humming the theme song music, which is probably why it was so easy for the Head’s robot-army to find them.
Super Duchess was the first to notice their robotic company.
“Uh – Cass?” Super Duchess managed to squeak out in fear, not lifting her eyes off of the robots.
Unfortunately, because she was humming too loud, Super Diva failed to hear the warning.
Super Duchess army-rolled between the legs of a robot, just in time to watch a robotic arm wrap around the chicken-clad superhero. “Why didn’t you warn me!?” Super Diva screamed.
“YOU WERE HUMMING TOO LOUD!” Super Duchess cried back.
“Dammit – I gotta learn to lay up on the theme song humming,” Super Diva reprimanded herself, as the robot carried her away. “Well this really sucks. Hey robot, wanna hear about my boyfriend Joooohhhn?”
Immediatley, the robot dropped Super Diva from its clutches, its switchboard circuits frizzing while it monotonely repeated “BOREDOM OVERLOAD, BOREDOM OVERLOAD…”
Super Diva stepped into her crime fighting photo shoot crime fighting pose. “Done and done.” she muttered.
Just then, Super Duchess heard the crime fighting Barbie powerwheels' familiar horn sound – the repeated playing of ‘Home, Home on the Range’. Hugh came running into the building, trying his best to dodge broken bodies and bloody brains. Suddenly, a not quite dead henchmen awoke, throwing a punch in Hugh’s direction. From inside, Super Duchess could hear Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything’s familiar feminine scream.
“Wh-what is it? Hugh – oh my gosh, am I too late?”
Hugh was doubled over on the ground, clutching his hand.
“Hugh – are you dead? What can I do?”
“I-I…”
“Yes…yes…oh God, Hugh, what?”
“I broke a nail!” Hugh began his usual realm of hysterical sobbing. Bethany A scooped him up and carried him piggy back into the plant.
Running through the halls with Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything on her back, Bethany A was just about ready to give up her crime fighting sprint and resort to her crime fighting power walk, when suddenly Super Diva emmerged from a hallway, relieving her of Hugh.
“Here, take this…” Bethany A heaved Hugh into Super Diva’s arms. “I’m gonna go look for the wires.”
“Too late! I cut them already!” Super Diva cried cheerily. She dangled four pink wires in Super Duchess’ face. “Pink? Pink wires, that’s so un-Electric Head like.” Super Duchess remarked. Suddenly, Hugh came to, even though Super Diva was hauling him like a sack of potatoes.
“Those aren’t the energy wires! Those are the ignition wires to the Barbie power wheels!”
“Uh- look at the ducks!” Super Diva said hastily, and left in a pouf of feathers before she could get yelled at.
Almost fully recovered, Hugh managed to stand on his own two feet, though he carried his injured hand before him. Scanning the hallway they were in, hugh motioned to Bethany A which direction they should go in, and they continued down the hall.
“I sure hope Lauren managed to find the Head’s secret command base inside the secret crime base, and detain him somehow from retaliating against our stealing his stolen energy.” Hugh said, and Super Duchess chewed her lip worriedly. Think of the ducks, Laur…she thought, listen to the quacking…
Unfortunately, her thoughts were interrupted by Hugh’s piercing crime fighting excited voice.
“I found them!!” He exclaimed, and pointed to a group of silver wires high above his head.
Figuring out a way to reach the wires, Super Duchess took the crime fighting wire cutters from him and climbed up his back, straining to reach the silver wires.
“Couldn’t you just- Beth- hey, Super Duch-B- Couldn’t you- wouldn’t it be better if you-” Hugh stuttered and tried to say, as Super Duchess’ crime fighting boots landed heavily on his shoulders and smushed into his face.
The wires split with a great illegal-crime-wires-being-cut click-sound, and Super Duchess climbed down from her perch.
Red in the face, Hugh asked her, “Couldn’t you have just FLOWN up there?”
Bethany A lowered her head, embarrassed. “Didn’t think of that...hey! Look at the ducks!!”
Back at the Super Top Secret Crime Base, Super Damsel had just found the Electric Head’s secret base of operations room. She faced him with her Super crime fighting picture pose, and began the familiar to-intimidate-the-enemy-speech, “Evil Villain, have fear! Super Damsel is-”
But she never had time to finish, because suddenly a powerful telepathic-suspended-energy-hurt-you-and-keep-you-immobilized-but-lets-you-listen-to-maniacle-crazy-super-villain-speech beam hit her and raised her high above the floor, and she managed to squeak in fear (Super Damsel is slightly afraid of heights), as she listened to the Electric Head’s lecture.
“You have cut my power supply, but I have much stored up to draw upon, and killing you will take up very little of my power; I will be able to fry you,”
Behind the Head, Super Damsel saw a strange figure dressed in bright red pyjama pants, a loose-fittng white t-shirt with a tight,black, lady’s sports bra over top, and a kitchen sieve on his head, run into the room.
It was Jeff, coming to save the great super hero who had saved him so many times. He ran behind the Electric Head with no fear, thinking ‘I’ll show them all! They’ll see what kind of a super hero I am!!!’
And the Electric Head ignorantly continued his speech. “and take over the world-”
And then suddenly Jeff screamed as he tripped over a giant cord and the Electric Head’s plug came popping out of his giant crime electricity socket in the wall. His speech wound down, his eyes dulled as the lightbulbs behind them went out, and Super Damsel was dropped to the floor. She helped Jeff untangle his feet from the electricity cord, and thanked him for the rescue, promising not to tell just HOW the rescue had gone down. For now, Jeff was a hero, and that was all that mattered. Super Damsel looked down on the pathetic Electric Head. “Oh yeah, Head-y, about your speech – QUACK FUCKING QUACK – Jeff – you did it! I can’t believe you did it! I can’t believe I...I was saved...oh shit...I was saved by you? Oh well…(sigh)…let’s go.”
Super Duchess had cut the wires, and Jeff had killed the Electric Head once and for all. Their mission was practically complete (and Super Duchess was pretty damn sure that the Employee of the Month award was in the bag ). Hugh emitted his ‘Your world is mine’-summon-everybody-together-so-I-can-yell-at-you-and-maybe-watch-a-movie-but-I-haven’t-decided-yet light. He also connected everyone with his telepathic message ‘Hey guys, the wires are clipped! My face is mush, but the wires are clipped!’
Everyone met once again, at the crime fighting basement where Hugh passed around a bottle of celebration V-8 which didn’t really go over all that well. Everyone had relaxed and kicked up their heels (which incidentally caused some minor cuts and bruises, as the Captain’s were too close to the 3D’s stilleto heels) Everyone was laughing and giggling, especially after the cat was let out of the bag about Lauren having to be saved by Jeff. After the hilarity ceased, Hugh calmed them with Jeff’s iniation.
“Jeff, we tried to keep you out of the Fab Five for as long as we could, but the truth is, you’re a big pest who saved the day by ACCIDENTALLY tripping, and since you know way to much about how we operate, we have no other choice but to enter you into our presitigious crime fighting club.”
Jeff beamed heroically, though a little flushed from the walk from the car to the basement.
“Great! What do I have to do to be iniated?” he asked in anticipation
“You must go out in the middle of the street in a pink tu-tu, while mooing like a cow, and hit on a dog while balancing tea cups on your head and wearing diapers around your legs.”
“AGAIN!?!” Jeff moaned.
“Oh yes, that was last weeks Friday night, wasn’t it….alright, you must give me back the keys to the super bike.”
Reluctantly, Jeff handed over the keys, and kneeled before Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything - trying hard not to laugh at Hugh’s velcro shoes. Hugh took a ruler, and knighted Jeff, christening him ‘Captain Pimp-Who-Hopefully-Will-Take-Us-On-Better-Cruising-Rides-Than-Just-Doing-Circles-In-The-Parking-Lot-At-Canatara-Park-When-Someone-Needs-To-Be-Home-At-The-Other-End-Of-Town-And-Is-Willing-To-Pay-For-Gas-But-You-Still-Say-No-Because-Your-Mom-Supossidly-Checks-The-Kilometers-On-Your-Truck-But-We-Know-That’s-A-Lie’.
We just call him Captain Asshole for short.
“Hey wait! What about the rocket?” Super Diva suddenly screamed. And they realized that Kevin was still at NASA, and hadn’t been heard from.
Will Hugh survive the painful broken fingernail? Can Super Damsel endure the indignity of being rescued by *gulp* Jeff? And what is happening with Kevin??? You'll find out next time in the exciting conclusion of The Adventures of the 3D's and the Captains, Edition 1!!!
Monday, October 18, 2004
The invasion of my life by Milton Hamling
Eew eew eew, there was a mouse in my room! There's a mouse in my ro-o-o-m! He was brown or gray and he went under a plastic bag and I threw a stapler at him, but staplers are not aerodynamic and it flew with bad aim! Now I'm standing here with a broom, poking all the little piles of laundry that are on my floor (I'm a student), and yelling things like "I'm big and scary! Run away mouse!"
So, basically, a fuzzy little mammal the likes of which my brother used to keep as a pet, that is many many times smaller than me has turned me into a blubbering idiot, who sounds really really pathetic. On the upside, my room is finally getting clean.
Maybe if he had a name, he would be less scary. Milton? Hamling? I need suggestions here, people.
Okay. So I work tommorrow, but on wednesday I can take the bus to Dundas and buy HUMANE traps, and when I catch little Milton Hamling, I will set him free in Cootes Paradise (the nature preserve with the walking trails behind campus), and he can live a full mouse-life, Bethany free. This is really my only option, since, while Eggroll (my brother's dog) loves to chase things, I'm not all that sure he's very good at catching them, and lets face it, what would he do with a mouse? There are of course Mom's cats- I have my choice of the declawed one or the three-legged one. Fairly useless, unless they team up:
"Okay Tri-pawed, you stand in the corner, and I'll drive him toward you!"
Unlikely.
In the meantime, it's a broom in my hand, no more food wrappers on the floor (again, I'm a STUDENT), and my new mantra: "Stay away, Milton Hamling! I'm big and scary!"
And I WILL resist the urge to leave him a piece of chocolate.
So, basically, a fuzzy little mammal the likes of which my brother used to keep as a pet, that is many many times smaller than me has turned me into a blubbering idiot, who sounds really really pathetic. On the upside, my room is finally getting clean.
Maybe if he had a name, he would be less scary. Milton? Hamling? I need suggestions here, people.
Okay. So I work tommorrow, but on wednesday I can take the bus to Dundas and buy HUMANE traps, and when I catch little Milton Hamling, I will set him free in Cootes Paradise (the nature preserve with the walking trails behind campus), and he can live a full mouse-life, Bethany free. This is really my only option, since, while Eggroll (my brother's dog) loves to chase things, I'm not all that sure he's very good at catching them, and lets face it, what would he do with a mouse? There are of course Mom's cats- I have my choice of the declawed one or the three-legged one. Fairly useless, unless they team up:
"Okay Tri-pawed, you stand in the corner, and I'll drive him toward you!"
Unlikely.
In the meantime, it's a broom in my hand, no more food wrappers on the floor (again, I'm a STUDENT), and my new mantra: "Stay away, Milton Hamling! I'm big and scary!"
And I WILL resist the urge to leave him a piece of chocolate.
I got a COMMENT!
I'm so happy. I'm thrilled. I'm tickled pink! I just got my first comment- from someone who isn't family or close friend- on my blog! This is amazing! Real people out there are reading this! Or at least, one is. Thank you reader! He even made me a link on his blog. I'm going to do that too...as soon as I figure out how. What can I say, I'm new to this blog thing. But for now, gotta get to class. Later peeps!
Sunday, October 17, 2004
The 3D's and the Captains- Part 1
Sunday evening, and what can I say, I'm a boring girl, when left to my own devices. I had a day off (rare and surprising) and I have spent it beading and watching movies and talking endlessly on the phone with Lauren, and NOT cleaning my room or grocery shopping. I figure I can live off of old pizza for another few days, at least. The jist of this mundane day, however, is that I'm left fairly bereft of interresting commentary to make on this page. So, in the face of writers block, I do the most logical thing: stop trying to write something, or do anything that makes any sense. So, in the spirit of being as rediculous as possible (as well as a tad nostalgic, I suppose), I present you with a piece of writing from sometime in my highschool years, Lauren and I believe it was grade twelve. It was written as a tandem exercize between Lauren and myself, and there may have been consultative contributions by one (long lost) Cassie Radsaak. Here goes nothing. I give you, The 3D's and the Captains, Edition One, Part One.
THE ADVENTURES OF THE 3D’S AND THE CAPTAINS
EDITION 1
By Lauren M. and Bethany J.
“Help! Please, for the love of God!!!”
The wimpish and pathetic cries for help polluted the air, as our heroine began to immerge from her sleep. As she heard the screams for assistance, she shot up in bed, grabbing her glasses and straining to identify the voice.
It was Simpson.
“Geez Louise!” she muttered, “Can’t that kid go a friggin’ day without crying for help?”
Hauling her legs over the side of the bed, our heroine (Bethany A) slowly made her way to the walk in closet of the master bedroom. Turning on the overhead lights, activating the room’s disco ball and bringing the surround sound stereo to life, she began shifting through wardrobes – until she found what she was looking for.
The costume was yellow and purple, with a large monogram blazing on the chest reading ‘S.D.’
Hesistantly she began to dress in the lycra superhero suit, dreading having to save such a bone head from yet another accident. Groggily, she muttered her motto, though for who she had no idea, old habit and the traditional ego trip, she supposed.
“Have no fear, Super Duchess is….” Bethany sighed, “around here somewhere, so keep your pants on, Simpson.”
With a sudden jolt of energy from a sip of Mountain Dew on her bedside table (a good energy supplement she found, also good for warding off bad guys with the usual impotency threats) Bethany A kicked out her window, taking to the skies to save Jeff Simpson from another ‘life threatening’ situation.
After flying through the Tim Horton’s drive through for an English Toffee Cappuccino (embarrased by being short changed. When questioned, she answered ‘look at the ducks!’) Bethany A arrived at an intersection somewhere in Sarnia (her sense of direction was shot at 7:30 AM) she found the ‘victim’….an overweight teen answering to Jeff Simpson (or Butthead, if the subject should arise) trapped under the weight of his Super Bike.
“Geez Louise, Jeff, if you get trapped under that bike ONE MORE TIME, I’m gona edit this thing and turn it into a scooter.”
Jeff wimpered helplessly in response, as the amazing heroin rescued him once again. Suddenly a gust of wind rocked them both almost off their feet.
“*Gasp, wheeze* Am I too late?” A tall girl in a lime-green catsuit stood menacingly before them, a small puddle of cappucino forming around her super-hero boots from the cup in her hand.
“Out all night and too tired to fly again, I see.” Super Duchess reprimanded her fellow colleague.
“Captain Gorilla Arms and I had a date.” Super Damsel responded meekly.
Bethany started lecturing her (Damsel KNEW she had super hero duties to attend to in the morning, she should NOT be going out late with the Captain), to which Lauren responded “Quack fucking quack.”
Super Duchess was not surprised. Super heros these days were not the way they use to be- ah, the days of comic books, the way it should be.
Noticing their blubbering victim once again, Lauren quickly carried out the routine of flying him home and telling him-forcefully- NOW STAY PUT!!!, she flew back to Super Duchess’ side.
“I took care of that cappucino tab for you.”
Smiling tiredly (Superheros never get to sleep in), Bethany asked how the date went.
They flew back to Super Duchess’ house together, and flopped on her bed while they read her new magazine and analyzed Captain Gorilla Arms and the wimpy Jeff’s behaviour.
“Do you mind if I get out of this thing?” Damsel asked Duchess, picking at the wedgie her catsuit was giving her.
“’Once in uniform, a heroin should never revert back to the alternate personality unless there is no more crime. ie, the day (or night, whichever one fight’s crime in) is over, the comic, or cartoon, ends, or (if this ever happens) the police finally start doing their jobs.’” Bethany quoted from the super heros handbook, which she had read cover-to-cover.
Groaning, Lauren knelt down next to Bethany where she played her video game.
The animated Super Duchess on the screen performed a spectacular move to escape some evil villains.
“Hey,” Lauren commented, “you can’t do that.”
“None of us can do the things we do in video games in real life.” Bethany said ironically.
“What do those kids think we are?” Wondered Super Damsel out loud. “Super?”
“If it’s not one thing it’s another.”
After hours of bitching and over-analyzation about the horrors and drama of being a Super hero in today’s lazy-assed society, the girls were interuppted by an over-bearingly illuminated object in the sky. Bright lights spelt out the words ‘Your Earth is mine!’ in the evening sky.
Neither girls gave it any thought.
“Hugh’s advertising again,” was the only comment, from someone at Bethany A’s bedroom door. A medium sized girl, wearing a feathery yellow chicken costume stood in the door way.
“Hey Cass – uh….what happened to the usual leather dress?”
Cassie looked down at her costume.
“Oh crap! I grabbed the wrong costume AGAIN!??!”
Bethany A and Lauren looked at each other, irritated. It was getting hard to be taken seriously as a crime fighting trio when they were seen flying around town with a big hen.
The girls gathered their things (matching pink lady purses – their trademark accessories) and decided to answer Hugh’s call – the light in the sky was his way of reaching all of his colleagues. Another stop at Tim Horton’s was required – the girls couldn’t be anything less than fashionably late.
When they finally arrived at Hugh’s house, they found him in his usual crime fighting costume, his blue sweatpants with Hanes His Way underpants over top, and the Cookie Monster sweater his grandmother gave him when he was eight years old. A green towel fashioned as a cape, and he adorned the Scream mask on his face, for that extra ‘sassy edge’.
To acknowledge their prescence without leaking their true identities to possible spies in the park, (a.k.a their worst paparazzi enemy, Sneaky Mark) Hugh nodded solemnley and motioned them in. Once the girls had FINALLY untied their knee high crime fighting stalleto heeled black leather boots, Hugh cried
‘To the basement!’ and they flew down the steps, executing perfect landings. Except Cassie, her beak got in the way, and she crashed in the landing.
Everyone settled on the crime fighting love seat for their next mission, as Hugh took to the podium.
“Welcome, Fab Five!” he cried, with the traditional greeting of mission meetings.
“Ahoy, Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything!”
Hugh ground his teeth, enduring their greeting. No matter how badly he insisted on ‘Dr. Death’, no one took his name seriously.
“I’ll begin this meeting by acknow- Cassie what the hell are you wearing?”
Cassie sighed, beginning to turn a little red.
“Uh – her crime suit’s in the cleaners” Super Duchess covered for her.
“I see. And what shall we call you until you’ve gotten your Super Diva suit back?”
Captain Gorilla Arms piped up from under the pile of superheros.
“Captain K.F.C.!”
“Fine, let’s get on with it. Your mission is as follows; The Elecrtric-”
“The Electric Head?!”
“Not him again!”
“Oh DAMN!”
Super Duchess, Super Diva, and Super Damsel said in unision- Captain Gorilla Arms just groaned.
Hugh cleared his throat like a teacher who had been interrupted by his students.
“AS I was saying, The Electric Head has managed to take over the Biggest Super Energy Generator In America-”
“That place has such a stupid name.” Cassie intergected, and got a look from Hugh before he continued,
“and is sucking energy from the plant to gain his strenght for another one of his attacks on my world.”
“THE world, Hugh.” The others corrected him for the millionth time.
“Anyway, the power he’s stealing is supposed to go to the rocket NASA has created to destroy that immense meteorite that is threatening to destroy earth, but the thing can’t fly without power. So, we have to sneak into the power plant, disconnect The Head’s illegal power stealing wires, (and his stolen cable TV), restore the energy flow to the rocket so it can bash that meteor before it smushes us, AND fight The Electric Head who already has enough energy to fight us, and he’s getting more every minute. That is your mission, now go to it.”
“I don’t wanna.” Wined Kevin, still being crushed underneath everyone else who was packed solidly into the loveseat. “I’m comfy, and I haven’t eaten in 12 mintues – you can’t expect me to go squish the plans of a super villan on an empty stomach!”
Hugh gave up. Chucking his gavel across the room, he decided getting any order from the crimefighting love seat was impossible. “I’m gonna go see what I can find out about the Electric Head’s super top secret base. Shot gun on the Super Bike.”
Super Duchess and Super Damsel looked at each other painstakingly. Damsel decided to break the news.
“Uh – Hugh? Jeff took the Super Bike out for a spin this morning and….”
“Let me guess” Hugh interuppted “he got stuck AGAIN. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times, no going through the crime fighting garage! The Super Bike is mine! Great, I guess I’m driving the Crime Fighting jet.”
Captain Gorilla Arms looked guilty, giving Hugh a sheepish look.
“Uh – Hugh, I kind of…”
“Let me guess, you parked in an unauthorized jet zone AGAIN. I’m sick of paying for your damn parking tickets – you’re a super hero for god’s sake – you can save lives but you don’t understand parking authority? Fine, I’ll take the crime fighting Hummer. No wait, it’s getting body work. The crime fighting stationwagon. Nope, it’s still loaded up with clothes from the 3D’s shopping spree. I guess I’ve got the crime fighting ten-speed bicycle with the basket on the front and the bell on the handle bars.”
Cassie sniffled. “I kind of tripped on it on my way in and…”
“I’M TAKING THE FREAKING CRIME FIGHTING BARBIE POWER WHEELS – IS THAT ALRIGHT WITH THE REST OF YOU?!?!?!”
Hugh stormed out of the room, and the rest of the Fab Five heard his footsteps all the way to the crime fighting garage, where the crime fighting Barbie power wheels was kept. (Well “quack fucking quack” was heard muttered from the crime fighting basement).
The rest of the heroes took again to the air, splitting up after planning a counterattack on the Electric Head.
Captain Gorilla Arms was to divert the Head’s henchmen’s attention (after a quick pit stop at the slushee machine at Seven Eleven for a Mean Tangerine slushee). Super Diva was to use her brute force to storm the power plant, and begin the attack (which decidedly would be difficult in her chicken outfit). Super Damsel was to seduce the Electric Head away from his positioning, so that Super Duchess could disarm the operation.
“Alright gang, let’s go get him!” Captain Gorilla Arms cried.
Little did they know, that during all of their mid-flight planning, Sneaky Mark had hitched a ride on Super Damsel’s cape. Stealthily, he jotted down everything, putting together his next issue of The Sneaker, his daily newspaper which updated the Fab Five’s missions. As well as putting together his paper, Sneaky Mark decided he would sell the information to Jeff at a good price, because after the super bike incident, Jeff was a little bitter against the Fab Five altogether.
As Hugh and Lauren sped off to the Head’s secret base, Cass, Kev, and Bethany A took off for the power plant. At the front gates Cassie surprised the Electric Head’s guardsmen with her Super Crime Fighting Power Punch (appropriate, she thought), and would have beat them all to a pulp in moments, except that her feathers got in the way. Captain Gorilla Arms came to her rescue, and looped some titanium bars around the guards to keep them out of the way. That got them inside safe and sound, and Kevin left the two girls to stop the stealing of energy themselves, while he went to go supervise the meteorite-crushing rocket. Besides, Super Diva’s feathers were making his allergies act up.
Will Super Duchess and Super Diva get the illegal-power-sucking wires cut in time? Will Super Damsel be able to defeat the Electric Head? Will the rocket get off the ground to destroy the meteorite? And will Captain Gorilla Arms ever get something to eat? Tune in next time for Part 2 of the Adventures of The 3D's and the Captains!
THE ADVENTURES OF THE 3D’S AND THE CAPTAINS
EDITION 1
By Lauren M. and Bethany J.
“Help! Please, for the love of God!!!”
The wimpish and pathetic cries for help polluted the air, as our heroine began to immerge from her sleep. As she heard the screams for assistance, she shot up in bed, grabbing her glasses and straining to identify the voice.
It was Simpson.
“Geez Louise!” she muttered, “Can’t that kid go a friggin’ day without crying for help?”
Hauling her legs over the side of the bed, our heroine (Bethany A) slowly made her way to the walk in closet of the master bedroom. Turning on the overhead lights, activating the room’s disco ball and bringing the surround sound stereo to life, she began shifting through wardrobes – until she found what she was looking for.
The costume was yellow and purple, with a large monogram blazing on the chest reading ‘S.D.’
Hesistantly she began to dress in the lycra superhero suit, dreading having to save such a bone head from yet another accident. Groggily, she muttered her motto, though for who she had no idea, old habit and the traditional ego trip, she supposed.
“Have no fear, Super Duchess is….” Bethany sighed, “around here somewhere, so keep your pants on, Simpson.”
With a sudden jolt of energy from a sip of Mountain Dew on her bedside table (a good energy supplement she found, also good for warding off bad guys with the usual impotency threats) Bethany A kicked out her window, taking to the skies to save Jeff Simpson from another ‘life threatening’ situation.
After flying through the Tim Horton’s drive through for an English Toffee Cappuccino (embarrased by being short changed. When questioned, she answered ‘look at the ducks!’) Bethany A arrived at an intersection somewhere in Sarnia (her sense of direction was shot at 7:30 AM) she found the ‘victim’….an overweight teen answering to Jeff Simpson (or Butthead, if the subject should arise) trapped under the weight of his Super Bike.
“Geez Louise, Jeff, if you get trapped under that bike ONE MORE TIME, I’m gona edit this thing and turn it into a scooter.”
Jeff wimpered helplessly in response, as the amazing heroin rescued him once again. Suddenly a gust of wind rocked them both almost off their feet.
“*Gasp, wheeze* Am I too late?” A tall girl in a lime-green catsuit stood menacingly before them, a small puddle of cappucino forming around her super-hero boots from the cup in her hand.
“Out all night and too tired to fly again, I see.” Super Duchess reprimanded her fellow colleague.
“Captain Gorilla Arms and I had a date.” Super Damsel responded meekly.
Bethany started lecturing her (Damsel KNEW she had super hero duties to attend to in the morning, she should NOT be going out late with the Captain), to which Lauren responded “Quack fucking quack.”
Super Duchess was not surprised. Super heros these days were not the way they use to be- ah, the days of comic books, the way it should be.
Noticing their blubbering victim once again, Lauren quickly carried out the routine of flying him home and telling him-forcefully- NOW STAY PUT!!!, she flew back to Super Duchess’ side.
“I took care of that cappucino tab for you.”
Smiling tiredly (Superheros never get to sleep in), Bethany asked how the date went.
They flew back to Super Duchess’ house together, and flopped on her bed while they read her new magazine and analyzed Captain Gorilla Arms and the wimpy Jeff’s behaviour.
“Do you mind if I get out of this thing?” Damsel asked Duchess, picking at the wedgie her catsuit was giving her.
“’Once in uniform, a heroin should never revert back to the alternate personality unless there is no more crime. ie, the day (or night, whichever one fight’s crime in) is over, the comic, or cartoon, ends, or (if this ever happens) the police finally start doing their jobs.’” Bethany quoted from the super heros handbook, which she had read cover-to-cover.
Groaning, Lauren knelt down next to Bethany where she played her video game.
The animated Super Duchess on the screen performed a spectacular move to escape some evil villains.
“Hey,” Lauren commented, “you can’t do that.”
“None of us can do the things we do in video games in real life.” Bethany said ironically.
“What do those kids think we are?” Wondered Super Damsel out loud. “Super?”
“If it’s not one thing it’s another.”
After hours of bitching and over-analyzation about the horrors and drama of being a Super hero in today’s lazy-assed society, the girls were interuppted by an over-bearingly illuminated object in the sky. Bright lights spelt out the words ‘Your Earth is mine!’ in the evening sky.
Neither girls gave it any thought.
“Hugh’s advertising again,” was the only comment, from someone at Bethany A’s bedroom door. A medium sized girl, wearing a feathery yellow chicken costume stood in the door way.
“Hey Cass – uh….what happened to the usual leather dress?”
Cassie looked down at her costume.
“Oh crap! I grabbed the wrong costume AGAIN!??!”
Bethany A and Lauren looked at each other, irritated. It was getting hard to be taken seriously as a crime fighting trio when they were seen flying around town with a big hen.
The girls gathered their things (matching pink lady purses – their trademark accessories) and decided to answer Hugh’s call – the light in the sky was his way of reaching all of his colleagues. Another stop at Tim Horton’s was required – the girls couldn’t be anything less than fashionably late.
When they finally arrived at Hugh’s house, they found him in his usual crime fighting costume, his blue sweatpants with Hanes His Way underpants over top, and the Cookie Monster sweater his grandmother gave him when he was eight years old. A green towel fashioned as a cape, and he adorned the Scream mask on his face, for that extra ‘sassy edge’.
To acknowledge their prescence without leaking their true identities to possible spies in the park, (a.k.a their worst paparazzi enemy, Sneaky Mark) Hugh nodded solemnley and motioned them in. Once the girls had FINALLY untied their knee high crime fighting stalleto heeled black leather boots, Hugh cried
‘To the basement!’ and they flew down the steps, executing perfect landings. Except Cassie, her beak got in the way, and she crashed in the landing.
Everyone settled on the crime fighting love seat for their next mission, as Hugh took to the podium.
“Welcome, Fab Five!” he cried, with the traditional greeting of mission meetings.
“Ahoy, Captain-Mastermind-Who-Organizes-Everything!”
Hugh ground his teeth, enduring their greeting. No matter how badly he insisted on ‘Dr. Death’, no one took his name seriously.
“I’ll begin this meeting by acknow- Cassie what the hell are you wearing?”
Cassie sighed, beginning to turn a little red.
“Uh – her crime suit’s in the cleaners” Super Duchess covered for her.
“I see. And what shall we call you until you’ve gotten your Super Diva suit back?”
Captain Gorilla Arms piped up from under the pile of superheros.
“Captain K.F.C.!”
“Fine, let’s get on with it. Your mission is as follows; The Elecrtric-”
“The Electric Head?!”
“Not him again!”
“Oh DAMN!”
Super Duchess, Super Diva, and Super Damsel said in unision- Captain Gorilla Arms just groaned.
Hugh cleared his throat like a teacher who had been interrupted by his students.
“AS I was saying, The Electric Head has managed to take over the Biggest Super Energy Generator In America-”
“That place has such a stupid name.” Cassie intergected, and got a look from Hugh before he continued,
“and is sucking energy from the plant to gain his strenght for another one of his attacks on my world.”
“THE world, Hugh.” The others corrected him for the millionth time.
“Anyway, the power he’s stealing is supposed to go to the rocket NASA has created to destroy that immense meteorite that is threatening to destroy earth, but the thing can’t fly without power. So, we have to sneak into the power plant, disconnect The Head’s illegal power stealing wires, (and his stolen cable TV), restore the energy flow to the rocket so it can bash that meteor before it smushes us, AND fight The Electric Head who already has enough energy to fight us, and he’s getting more every minute. That is your mission, now go to it.”
“I don’t wanna.” Wined Kevin, still being crushed underneath everyone else who was packed solidly into the loveseat. “I’m comfy, and I haven’t eaten in 12 mintues – you can’t expect me to go squish the plans of a super villan on an empty stomach!”
Hugh gave up. Chucking his gavel across the room, he decided getting any order from the crimefighting love seat was impossible. “I’m gonna go see what I can find out about the Electric Head’s super top secret base. Shot gun on the Super Bike.”
Super Duchess and Super Damsel looked at each other painstakingly. Damsel decided to break the news.
“Uh – Hugh? Jeff took the Super Bike out for a spin this morning and….”
“Let me guess” Hugh interuppted “he got stuck AGAIN. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times, no going through the crime fighting garage! The Super Bike is mine! Great, I guess I’m driving the Crime Fighting jet.”
Captain Gorilla Arms looked guilty, giving Hugh a sheepish look.
“Uh – Hugh, I kind of…”
“Let me guess, you parked in an unauthorized jet zone AGAIN. I’m sick of paying for your damn parking tickets – you’re a super hero for god’s sake – you can save lives but you don’t understand parking authority? Fine, I’ll take the crime fighting Hummer. No wait, it’s getting body work. The crime fighting stationwagon. Nope, it’s still loaded up with clothes from the 3D’s shopping spree. I guess I’ve got the crime fighting ten-speed bicycle with the basket on the front and the bell on the handle bars.”
Cassie sniffled. “I kind of tripped on it on my way in and…”
“I’M TAKING THE FREAKING CRIME FIGHTING BARBIE POWER WHEELS – IS THAT ALRIGHT WITH THE REST OF YOU?!?!?!”
Hugh stormed out of the room, and the rest of the Fab Five heard his footsteps all the way to the crime fighting garage, where the crime fighting Barbie power wheels was kept. (Well “quack fucking quack” was heard muttered from the crime fighting basement).
The rest of the heroes took again to the air, splitting up after planning a counterattack on the Electric Head.
Captain Gorilla Arms was to divert the Head’s henchmen’s attention (after a quick pit stop at the slushee machine at Seven Eleven for a Mean Tangerine slushee). Super Diva was to use her brute force to storm the power plant, and begin the attack (which decidedly would be difficult in her chicken outfit). Super Damsel was to seduce the Electric Head away from his positioning, so that Super Duchess could disarm the operation.
“Alright gang, let’s go get him!” Captain Gorilla Arms cried.
Little did they know, that during all of their mid-flight planning, Sneaky Mark had hitched a ride on Super Damsel’s cape. Stealthily, he jotted down everything, putting together his next issue of The Sneaker, his daily newspaper which updated the Fab Five’s missions. As well as putting together his paper, Sneaky Mark decided he would sell the information to Jeff at a good price, because after the super bike incident, Jeff was a little bitter against the Fab Five altogether.
As Hugh and Lauren sped off to the Head’s secret base, Cass, Kev, and Bethany A took off for the power plant. At the front gates Cassie surprised the Electric Head’s guardsmen with her Super Crime Fighting Power Punch (appropriate, she thought), and would have beat them all to a pulp in moments, except that her feathers got in the way. Captain Gorilla Arms came to her rescue, and looped some titanium bars around the guards to keep them out of the way. That got them inside safe and sound, and Kevin left the two girls to stop the stealing of energy themselves, while he went to go supervise the meteorite-crushing rocket. Besides, Super Diva’s feathers were making his allergies act up.
Will Super Duchess and Super Diva get the illegal-power-sucking wires cut in time? Will Super Damsel be able to defeat the Electric Head? Will the rocket get off the ground to destroy the meteorite? And will Captain Gorilla Arms ever get something to eat? Tune in next time for Part 2 of the Adventures of The 3D's and the Captains!
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Ode to a Phone
Ill-fated portable,
How we do mourn thee,
Thou wert a reliable phone.
You never needlessly disconnected,
Nor refused to dial, in a huff,
You were always receptive.
But your Destiny was set
In your make and your model-
Your kind doth not fare well with household chores,
As Lauren has found,
With the garbage and the tile floor,
Just as Bethany found,
With the laundry, and the washing machine.
Rest in Peace, silent friend.
How we do mourn thee,
Thou wert a reliable phone.
You never needlessly disconnected,
Nor refused to dial, in a huff,
You were always receptive.
But your Destiny was set
In your make and your model-
Your kind doth not fare well with household chores,
As Lauren has found,
With the garbage and the tile floor,
Just as Bethany found,
With the laundry, and the washing machine.
Rest in Peace, silent friend.
The Movie Watcher
Here's something I wrote. (I do this a lot.)
You know when you're sitting on the couch late at night, and the only light in the room is that eerie blue thrown off by late-night tv, and you've been there for hours, you know, and the ergonomically-formed remote has become a part of your palm; the plastic is all warm and the buttons have all been worn smooth, to the point that there is no longer a conscious progression from the thought of changing the channel to the act of pressing the button, instead it seems that it's your mind flicking over the channels directly. You mind-flick past the half-star rated B horror movie, the infomercial with the guy cutting a piece of slate with a breadknife, and those random colour bars that are the stations way of telling you that you are the only person awake on the planet right now, and you land on a rerun of that show you don't really like, but meh, there's nothing else on, so you stay there. And the scenes are happening and you're not really paying attention, and your mind drifts so that you're no really looking at the actors anymore, but just staring blindly at the screen, and then you notice that in that screen, on a three-walled set some actors performed on god knows how long ago before this moment, when you sat on the couch watching what they did then for the umpteenth time, behind the actors, in that set, some anonymous set designer has gone to Ikea and bought a small, square, four-legged orange table to decorate that scene with, and it's the same one you have- look, it's right over there. And that's when it happens. You get this weird little shock of familiarity, and this impossible notion bores it's way into your brain, that at this moment, when a second ago you felt totally disconnected from everything, suddenly because of some crappy plastic table you bought because it was cheap, suddenly that has made you feel...connected.
You might go to bed a few minutes, hours, or days later, and you'll probably forget all about it. I wish that happened to me. Because it did- that familiarity thing, when you realize some part of you has made its way out of your life and into the wide, foreign world- even if it's just a table- and become something more than what you made it. It might have been momentarily neat when you recognized that table. It was pretty messed up when I saw my life up on the screen.
Yep, cause that's what happened. I guess it would be cliched to say that it happened on a night like any other, though it did. Frankly, all the nights in my life have become nights like any other, more or less. Some person whom I may have known well, or not, I don't remember and it doesn't matter, said something to the effect of 'what should we do tonight?', and one way or the other, with very little effort on my part I'm sure, we ended up at the movies, where some crimpy-haired teenager in a uniform she despised took my money from me, and granted me access past the all-powerful ticket-takers booth and let me into the sanctuary of new releases and old popcorn. Everything was normal, everything was fine. I paid more of my money for the aforementioned stale popcorn, and sank into the abused foam of the theatre seat, and waited distractedly as the lights dimmed and all the other faceless watchers in that theatre with me got their last-minute choughs in. The giant screen came groaningly to life, flashing shampoo commercials that were still new enough a phenomena to make other watchers whisper to each other about the inappropriateness of commercials in movies, then the ancient piece of tape with the dancing box of candies, ordering the troops to go to the lobby, though we all knew no one ever did follow that time-honoured command. Then the music came, and my mind perked up at the first strains of a recent, popular, and not-so-original song that I happened to like, as it started the real movie and subconsciously told all of us to shut up and pay attention, cause this is what we all paid for. The first shot was of- guess what- a familiar orange table. Cue that shock of recognition in my soporific thoughts. And a voiceover starts up about how once, the character, the focus of the movie and all of us who have pilgrimaged to this holy place to give reverence to, once saw that same cheap little table on the set of a television show once, and it gave them a brief little flash of connectedness, that they forgot that night when they went to sleep. That little line that appears between my brows when I lower them, as I'm doing now, appears on my face. The camera travels around the room of the movie's character, and that line of mine gets deeper, and darker, as the camera pans past a lamp, a poster, a stereo squatly capped by an untidy stack of cd's. You can't see the names of those cd's- they're lying on their side- but there, in that dark theatre, I'm the only one who can name them all, in order. They're my cd's. That was my lamp, and my poster, too. The bed on the screen that all the other watchers are watching, that's my bed. It was when the arm, the arm that reached out of my bed, to turn on my lamp, in the movie I was watching, was my arm...that was when I started to freak out. Quietly.
You know when you're sitting on the couch late at night, and the only light in the room is that eerie blue thrown off by late-night tv, and you've been there for hours, you know, and the ergonomically-formed remote has become a part of your palm; the plastic is all warm and the buttons have all been worn smooth, to the point that there is no longer a conscious progression from the thought of changing the channel to the act of pressing the button, instead it seems that it's your mind flicking over the channels directly. You mind-flick past the half-star rated B horror movie, the infomercial with the guy cutting a piece of slate with a breadknife, and those random colour bars that are the stations way of telling you that you are the only person awake on the planet right now, and you land on a rerun of that show you don't really like, but meh, there's nothing else on, so you stay there. And the scenes are happening and you're not really paying attention, and your mind drifts so that you're no really looking at the actors anymore, but just staring blindly at the screen, and then you notice that in that screen, on a three-walled set some actors performed on god knows how long ago before this moment, when you sat on the couch watching what they did then for the umpteenth time, behind the actors, in that set, some anonymous set designer has gone to Ikea and bought a small, square, four-legged orange table to decorate that scene with, and it's the same one you have- look, it's right over there. And that's when it happens. You get this weird little shock of familiarity, and this impossible notion bores it's way into your brain, that at this moment, when a second ago you felt totally disconnected from everything, suddenly because of some crappy plastic table you bought because it was cheap, suddenly that has made you feel...connected.
You might go to bed a few minutes, hours, or days later, and you'll probably forget all about it. I wish that happened to me. Because it did- that familiarity thing, when you realize some part of you has made its way out of your life and into the wide, foreign world- even if it's just a table- and become something more than what you made it. It might have been momentarily neat when you recognized that table. It was pretty messed up when I saw my life up on the screen.
Yep, cause that's what happened. I guess it would be cliched to say that it happened on a night like any other, though it did. Frankly, all the nights in my life have become nights like any other, more or less. Some person whom I may have known well, or not, I don't remember and it doesn't matter, said something to the effect of 'what should we do tonight?', and one way or the other, with very little effort on my part I'm sure, we ended up at the movies, where some crimpy-haired teenager in a uniform she despised took my money from me, and granted me access past the all-powerful ticket-takers booth and let me into the sanctuary of new releases and old popcorn. Everything was normal, everything was fine. I paid more of my money for the aforementioned stale popcorn, and sank into the abused foam of the theatre seat, and waited distractedly as the lights dimmed and all the other faceless watchers in that theatre with me got their last-minute choughs in. The giant screen came groaningly to life, flashing shampoo commercials that were still new enough a phenomena to make other watchers whisper to each other about the inappropriateness of commercials in movies, then the ancient piece of tape with the dancing box of candies, ordering the troops to go to the lobby, though we all knew no one ever did follow that time-honoured command. Then the music came, and my mind perked up at the first strains of a recent, popular, and not-so-original song that I happened to like, as it started the real movie and subconsciously told all of us to shut up and pay attention, cause this is what we all paid for. The first shot was of- guess what- a familiar orange table. Cue that shock of recognition in my soporific thoughts. And a voiceover starts up about how once, the character, the focus of the movie and all of us who have pilgrimaged to this holy place to give reverence to, once saw that same cheap little table on the set of a television show once, and it gave them a brief little flash of connectedness, that they forgot that night when they went to sleep. That little line that appears between my brows when I lower them, as I'm doing now, appears on my face. The camera travels around the room of the movie's character, and that line of mine gets deeper, and darker, as the camera pans past a lamp, a poster, a stereo squatly capped by an untidy stack of cd's. You can't see the names of those cd's- they're lying on their side- but there, in that dark theatre, I'm the only one who can name them all, in order. They're my cd's. That was my lamp, and my poster, too. The bed on the screen that all the other watchers are watching, that's my bed. It was when the arm, the arm that reached out of my bed, to turn on my lamp, in the movie I was watching, was my arm...that was when I started to freak out. Quietly.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Comfort food: Mom's Sausage & Peppers
Okay, so I tried to put a picture in here, and what can I say, I suck technologically. Today kind of sucked. Rain and cold and classes and work and crazy customers. Three men came into the bead store and they only spoke spanish and french. I don't remember the last time I used that much of my 'other' language. I wasn't great, but could have been a lot worse. Then a shelf collapsed. Any idea what it's like when a shelf collapses in a bead store? Just like you imagine.
I ought to mention, it is not my intention to expound on the trivialities of my day here. I do so with a purpose. See, on a day like this, and I know you people out there have had such days, (and if you haven't, kiss my ass), there's only one thing you want and need: comfort food. And with that, let me introduce the first of several (if not many) recipies.
Mom’s Sausage & Peppers
One (at least) pkg Italian Sausage (I use sweet, not hot)
Onions (lots!)
1-3 Peppers (mostly green, can use red or yellow)
Large can tomatoes (I use diced) or two depending on size of batch
Dried oregano (at least a teaspoon)
Garlic powder (or fresh, or bottled) to taste (lots)
Salt & Pepper
Buy good sausage, it will make or break this dish.
Put 1/4 cup of water in a frying pan with a good lid.
Add sausages (frozen or not), cover and steam on high heat until the water is evaporated. Then add a bit of oil to the pan, turn the heat down to medium and brown the sausages well on all sides.
Remove them to a plate (save oil and gunk on bottom of pan if it's not too black).
Add onions and peppers to pan (can add a bit more oil if necessary, but go easy) and fry until a bit limp (scrape the gunk off the bottom of the pan while you do this).
When sausages are cool enough to handle, slice thinly.
Add sausages, tomatoes, garlic, oregano, salt & pepper.
Sometimes I also add a couple of squirts of Worcestershire sauce.
Cook until veggies are done to taste and flavours have blended.
Cooking it covered retains the juice if it is not saucy enough, or uncovered if you want to cook it down a bit.
Serve with rice or pasta.
xxox Mom
There. Maybe it's a tad cliched to use a 'Mom' recipe first, but that's where most are from, and this is the way she sent it to me. I hope to post more later, and they, too, will be conveyed the way I learned them. Have a good, dry, warm night all.
Bethany
I ought to mention, it is not my intention to expound on the trivialities of my day here. I do so with a purpose. See, on a day like this, and I know you people out there have had such days, (and if you haven't, kiss my ass), there's only one thing you want and need: comfort food. And with that, let me introduce the first of several (if not many) recipies.
Mom’s Sausage & Peppers
One (at least) pkg Italian Sausage (I use sweet, not hot)
Onions (lots!)
1-3 Peppers (mostly green, can use red or yellow)
Large can tomatoes (I use diced) or two depending on size of batch
Dried oregano (at least a teaspoon)
Garlic powder (or fresh, or bottled) to taste (lots)
Salt & Pepper
Buy good sausage, it will make or break this dish.
Put 1/4 cup of water in a frying pan with a good lid.
Add sausages (frozen or not), cover and steam on high heat until the water is evaporated. Then add a bit of oil to the pan, turn the heat down to medium and brown the sausages well on all sides.
Remove them to a plate (save oil and gunk on bottom of pan if it's not too black).
Add onions and peppers to pan (can add a bit more oil if necessary, but go easy) and fry until a bit limp (scrape the gunk off the bottom of the pan while you do this).
When sausages are cool enough to handle, slice thinly.
Add sausages, tomatoes, garlic, oregano, salt & pepper.
Sometimes I also add a couple of squirts of Worcestershire sauce.
Cook until veggies are done to taste and flavours have blended.
Cooking it covered retains the juice if it is not saucy enough, or uncovered if you want to cook it down a bit.
Serve with rice or pasta.
xxox Mom
There. Maybe it's a tad cliched to use a 'Mom' recipe first, but that's where most are from, and this is the way she sent it to me. I hope to post more later, and they, too, will be conveyed the way I learned them. Have a good, dry, warm night all.
Bethany
I guess this is the beginning
If I yell out into cyberspace, will my voice echo?
I've started this blog under the suggestion and vast encouragement of one of my closest friends, the ineffable Lauren MacLaren. All visitors here ought to tip their hats to her.
I've started this experimental venture for a few humble reasons, mainly to reach my family who continue to spread themselves further and further around the world, and friends who have all begun that inevitable drift, and because I'm sick of googling my name an coming up empty. This way I get my name in lights, even if they are just pixels.
So, what do I intend to do here? Nothing wholly original, I suspect. Talk, or write, more accurately, maybe vent or go off on a tangent or two (fair warning), share the recipies that certain aunts showed an interrest in last gathering, (those are for anybody- too good to be kept private), and be fairly self-centered. I think that's is a necessity for those who participate in online journals like this. I'll try to keep it down, though. You try, too.
In any case, at this point in time, those are my intentions, for better or worse. It's late now, and I'm tired. Goodnight cyberspace.
I've started this blog under the suggestion and vast encouragement of one of my closest friends, the ineffable Lauren MacLaren. All visitors here ought to tip their hats to her.
I've started this experimental venture for a few humble reasons, mainly to reach my family who continue to spread themselves further and further around the world, and friends who have all begun that inevitable drift, and because I'm sick of googling my name an coming up empty. This way I get my name in lights, even if they are just pixels.
So, what do I intend to do here? Nothing wholly original, I suspect. Talk, or write, more accurately, maybe vent or go off on a tangent or two (fair warning), share the recipies that certain aunts showed an interrest in last gathering, (those are for anybody- too good to be kept private), and be fairly self-centered. I think that's is a necessity for those who participate in online journals like this. I'll try to keep it down, though. You try, too.
In any case, at this point in time, those are my intentions, for better or worse. It's late now, and I'm tired. Goodnight cyberspace.
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