On a More Serious Note

Her body knelt towards the cobblestone walk, her head bent low under the weight of lonliness. She tried to raise her eyes to the sky, yet as the horizon met her gaze, she was thrown towards the ground once again. Her shoulders arched towards the sunlit canopy of the sky, but her strength alone would not suffice. As her heart sunk into desperate despair, a gentle touch encircled her hand. She glanced ahead, wary of the fingertips on her wrist. A gaze met hers and poured its quietness into her soul. He was kneeling ahead of her, hand on her wrist, heart in his eyes, pulling her towards him strongly, passionately, but with a tenderness that melted the burden on her shoulders. No longer was the cobblestone against her, instead a man. He raised her to her knees, lifted her burden, and pulled her closer to his heart. Yet, as he took her burden, he fell to his knees. Her eyes filled with tears as he struggled with the weight and silently, she dragged the burden again to her shoulders and fell at his side. He pulled her to him and with her, the weight. She lay, head on his chest, burden on her back, and traced the stones around his body. Together, they pushed the burden to the ground between them and, kneeling, gazed at the weight. Slowly, their gaze turned to each other. She, overwhelmed by him, began to swoon until his touch, that gentle hand that so sweetly took her burden, carressed her face and awakened her. She glanced skyward, absorbing all that she hadn't seen before and he noticing her wonder, pulled her to her feet and lifted her as close to her sky as he could. She felt the wind in her hair, the sun on her cheek, his arms round her waist and she breathed deeply the air of freedom. When he set her feet back on the cobblestones, she flew with the breeze round every bush and every tree to explore the land previously unknown to her. He, worried he would lose his precious angel, chased her, sweeping branches and leaves out of his way. His eyes searched violently for his beloved til he found her. Her arms outstretched to the sky, the wind playing in her hair, body heaving from sheer joy at all she saw, she stood on a cliff facing the end of the world. Worried for her safety, he swept her up in his arms and away from the edge. As he set her down, she took his warm hand in her own and pulled him with her as she explored the sky, the earth, the sea, her attention ever fleeting from one place to another, always landing on him, her rock. Again they returned to her cliff. He could feel her heart beat in his own and he lifted her hands again to the sky. They felt the breeze in their hair, the air in their chests, and he felt the wonder she felt coursing through her body. He knew, she knew, they knew, that they had found what they hadn't known they were searching for.

It's Been Too Long

Sorry for my complete lack of posting in the last month. However, I would like to inform you that this isn't my fault. I was in Europe. So you know, Europe is a fine place, filled with fine food, and fine people, but the internet there apparently sucks a lot. That is why I haven't posted. Well, that and my creative muse hasn't smacked me upside the head in quite a while. Actually, she still hasn't smacked me. I've had my head in the clouds, you see.
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So today, instead of the usual snappy entertainment, I shall provide you with something. I'm not quite sure what yet, but as my fingers keep typing, I'm sure I'll come up with something. Or not.
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Did you know that Batman II: The Dark Knight comes out on July 18?! You should because it's going to be amazing. Absolutely amazing. I'm really excited as you can tell. But I get to see it before you poor suckers because I work at a movie theatre. BAHAHA! We watch it the night before. However, I need a date to that. So, if you live near me and want something to do on July 17, let me know. Please. I would be quite embarrassed if I showed up alone.

Co-Worker Frank

I keep forgetting to include co-worker Frank in my blogs. Very early in my blogging career, I promised you that co-worker Frank would have a major role in my blogging life. I'm afraid he has not since appeared. So, I will hammer upon my imagination to create a tale of mystery, horror, murder, sex, and Frank.
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Once upon a time, there was co-worker Frank. He looked exactly how you would image him to look, except he had glasses. Don't try to fool me, I know you didn't imagine him with glasses, but he has them. They are very important to this story. Anyways, as Frank was driving to work on his scooter, he noticed a small mouse sitting on the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the mouse and said, "Hello, little fellow, how might you be this fine day?"
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The mouse looked up at Frank and raised one of his eyebrows. "You can talk?!"
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"Aye."
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"Oh," said the mouse."I haven't met a human that can talk before."
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As co-worker Frank continued to chat with the mouse about how all humans talk, bystander Phil walked by. He heard co-worker Frank squeaking to a small, tattered, stuffed mouse on the side walk, stared for approximately 4 seconds, and ran away.
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The End

Broccoli Soup

Do you know what my favorite part of puking is? Remembering what you ate. Have you ever noticed that after you puke, you always think, "Oh, I forgot I ate that bowl of potato soup. Damn, that was good soup!"? Well, I don't always think that. In fact, I only thought that today since I was driving in my car to school and I looked beside me. BOOM! I puked and noticed some broccoli sitting beside me. "That wasn't there before," I say to myself. "But of course, I ate that for lunch!"

Crowbars

Late night debates are fantastic. I would like you to know that if you have not had a late night debate, you should. You come up with illogical conclusions and nonexistant words to back them up. I even have a couple examples of these kind of debates.

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First, I was in Calgary, Alberta last night. That place is really scary. I figured I was going to get shot all night. Then Greg made fun of me. It was truly frightening. Wait, that wasn't a debate at all. Crap, this no sleep thing is getting to me....

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Oh, wait! Here's one. So my friend Mike and I were talking. I said something about hitting someone in the knees with a crowbar. He replied with, "Well, getting hit in the knees with a crowbar would really hurt, but not as much as getting hit in the shins would." Well, I disagree entirely. I would have you know that shattered knee caps are much more painful than bruised shin bones. Also, there are more nerves in the knee than in the shin.

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Since I couldn't prove my point with just words, I decided to test my theory. Actually, my mind subconsciously decided to test this theory. I had a vision. I say vision because dreams are fake and nothing I do is fake. So anyways, I had a vision. In it, I hit this one guy in the shin with a crow bar. He was like, "Well, that was painful." Then I went to the next fellow who was the exact same guy except that I hadn't hit him in the shins. I hit him in the knee caps. He screamed in pain and then died.

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So you see, if you get hit in the knees with a crowbar, you DIE.

Cheeseballs: God's Greatest Triumph or Classical Conditioning

It's like 2 in the morning. I am still awake. I should not be since I have to pick Greg up at like 8 30 tomorrow, but what is more entertaining than a late night blog? Nothing, goddamnit!

I was thinking this evening as I was dancing like an awesome person would dance at a bar, What could make this better? Then the answer came to me. It could be better if Paul was here, or if I didn't suck so much at dancing, or if there was a cheeseball. Frick, cheeseballs are kickass. Ponder this for a moment. No. Stop it. You're reading too fast. You know what? I. am. going. to type. with. periods. between. the. words. so. you. read. slower. This. will. make. you. contemplate. cheeseballs. better. Anyways, cheeseballs are an incredible gift from God. They make plain crackers taste not so sucky. They are also perfect for putting spy microphones in. I learned that from Inside Man. You can't put lots of microphones in sammiches because they don't spark conversation. I mean, who has a conversation about a sammich? No one. You can put microphones in pizza because it gives people something to crowd around. Cheeseballs do the same, but better because cheeseballs loosen the human tongue. If you want national secrets, taunt a person with a cheeseball. They will never be able to resist. If you want to find the coordinates for Nicholas Cage's house so you can egg it, use a cheeseball. Damn, I hate Nicholas Cage. He is probably the worst actor ever. I mean, how could anyone relate to him? He looks like a stoned horse. Gosh, he sucks. I didn't even go see his last couple movies because they would have sucked because he's in them. Man, Nicholas Cage blows. I'ma gonna stab him.

(Please note: I will not stab Nicholas Cage. Don't arrest me!)

My Version of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat"

So I am in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I am the narrator. Shut up, everyone. That's the female lead. Anyways, as Nick, Rachel, and I were practicing today (Nick is Joseph and Rachel is the orchestra), we were possessed by a soul of Andrew Lloyd Weber. He announced to us, through me (of course), that he designed this musical to be a giant Biblical acid trip.
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First off, there is no "children's choir", there is a group of gremlins. They dance around and are a mockery of Joseph's sanity. The Narrator is the person having the trip. All of this is in her head. Trust me, the musical would be so fucking cool that way. I mean, imagine the colours of a drug trip and the absence of children. Sweet mother of god, that would awesome.