Tralla

WORDS WOMEN USE FINE This is the word women use to end an argument when they feel they are right and you need to shut up. Never use "fine" to describe how a woman looks - this will cause you to have one of those arguments. FIVE MINUTES This is half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes that your football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so it's an even trade. NOTHING This means "something," and you should be on your toes. "Nothing" is usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you inside out, upside down, and backwards. "Nothing" usually signifies an argument that will last "Five Minutes" and end with "Fine" GO AHEAD (With Raised Eyebrows) This is a dare. One that will result in a woman getting upset over "Nothing" and will end with the word "Fine" GO AHEAD (Normal Eyebrows) This means "I give up" or "do what you want because I don't care" You will get a "Raised Eyebrow Go Ahead" in just a few minutes, followed by "Nothing" and "Fine" and she will talk to you in about "Five Minutes" when she cools off. LOUD SIGH This is not actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot at that moment, and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing" SOFT SIGH Again, not a word, but a non-verbal statement. "Soft Sighs" mean that she is content. Your best bet is to not move or breathe, and she will stay content. THAT'S OKAY This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before paying you back for whatever it is that you have done. "That's Okay" is often used with the word "Fine" and in conjunction with a "Raised Eyebrow." GO AHEAD. At some point in the near future, you are going to be in some mighty big trouble. PLEASE DO This is not a statement, it is an offer. A woman is giving you the chance to come up with whatever excuse or reason you have for doing whatever it is that you have done. You have a fair chance with the truth, so be careful and you shouldn't get a "That's Okay" THANKS A woman is thanking you. Do not faint. Just say you're welcome. THANKS A LOT This is much different from "Thanks." A woman will say, "Thanks A Lot" when she is really ticked off at you. It signifies that you have offended her in some callous way, and will be followed by the "Loud Sigh." Be careful not to ask what is wrong after the "Loud Sigh," as she will only tell you "Nothing"

The Old Man and Young Man An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors: green, red, orange, blue, and yellow. The old man just stared. Every time the young man looked, the old man was staring. The young man finally said sarcastically, "What's the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?" Without batting an eye, the old man replied, "Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son." "Very funny, Scotty. Now beam down my clothes." Lady Nancy Astor, Viscountess: "If you were my husband, Winston, I should flavour your coffee with poison." Winston Churchill: "If I WERE your husband, madam, I should drink it." The definition of "waste": a busload of economists plunging over a precipice with three of the seats unoccupied. ECONOMIST VALENTINES: 1. YOU RAISE MY INTEREST RATE THIRTY BASIS POINTS WITHOUT A CORRESPONDING DROPOFF IN CONSUMER ENTHUSIASM 2. DESPITE A DECADE OF INFLATION, I STILL DIG YOUR SUPPLY CURVE 3. FURTHER STIMULUS COULD RESULT IN UNCONTROLLED EXPANSION Q: How many Chicago School economists does it take to change a light bulb? A: None. If the light bulb needed changing the market would have already done it. Q: How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to say f*ck? A: Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*! Proud Catholic Mothers Four Catholic mothers are having coffee together and discussing how wonderful their sons are. The first mother tells her friends, "My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him 'Father'." The second Catholic woman chirps, "Well, my son is a Bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, people say, 'Your Grace'." The third Catholic woman says smugly, "Well, not to put you down, but my son is a Cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, people say, 'Your Eminence'." The fourth Catholic woman sips her coffee in silence. The first three women give her a subtle "Well...?" > She replies, "My son is a handsome, 6' 2", hard-bodied, Chippendale's male stripper. Whenever he walks into a room, all the women say, 'Oh, my God!" Sign Language.. I was doing garden work this weekend and my wife was about to take a shower. I realized that I couldn't find the rake. I yelled up to my wife, "Where is the rake?!" She couldn't hear me and she shouted back, "What?!?" I pointed to my eye, then I pointed to my knee and made a raking motion. Then my wife wasn't sure and said, What?!?" I repeated the gestures. "EYE KNEE-THE RAKE"... My wife nods her head that she understands and signals back. She first points to her eye, next she points to her left breast, then she points to her butt, and finally to her crotch. Well, there is no way I could even come close to that one. Exasperated, I went upstairs and asked her, "What the hell was that?" She replies, "EYE - LEFT TIT - BEHIND - THE BUSH" Dinner with the Girlfriend's Parents A girl asks her boyfriend to come over Friday night and have dinner with her parents. Since this is such a big event, the girl announces to her boyfriend that after dinner, she would like to go out and make love for the first time. Well, the boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex before, so he takes a trip to the pharmacist to get some condoms. The pharmacist helps the boy for about an hour. He tells the boy everything there is to know about condoms and sex. At the register, the pharmacist asks the boy how many condoms he'd like to buy, a 3-pack, 10-pack, or family pack. The boy insists on the family pack because he thinks he will be rather busy, it being his first time and all. That night, the boy shows up at the girl's parents house and meets his girlfriend at the door. "Oh, I'm so excited for you to meet my parents, come on in!" The boy goes inside and is taken to the dinner table where the girl's parents are seated. The boy quickly offers to say grace and bows his head. A minute passes, and the boy is still deep in prayer, with his head down. 10 minutes pass, and still no movement from the boy. Finally, after 20 minutes with his head down, the girlfriend leans over and whispers to the boyfriend, "I had no idea you were this religious." The boy turns, and whispers back, "I had no idea your father was a pharmacist."

ahhh God dang it I missed it! Fuzzles... *glomp* *huggle* Sorry hun. Hope it was grrrrreat. AP-E

hehehe. Nifty. =)

ooooooh yeah, Rhapsody. =) The first musical/broadway-ish thing I ever saw was a recording of the 10th Anniversary or Les Mis, and it's still my absolute favourite thing to date. (Side note: Can't remember her name, but the Fantine in that is SO much better than icky ol' Patty LePuke from the original. >.< )

Happy Birthday Brutie. =) *HUG*

Have a great one, Tyr. =)

This is *awesome*! :woot:

I think just about anybody can associate with at least part of this... And I'll be the first to admit I really have no right or experience to offer advice But I agree with Pere on this one, about little things being key. If you're lying in bed at night stressing, toss the bank balance aside and think about one cool or funny or nice or just plain positive thing that you did/saw/heard/smelt... Like, exchanging a couple happy words and a smile with your neighbour that morning, or hearing your favourite song on the radio and (or not) dancing to it, or seeing something really cool your daughter did. Take the littlest, silliest, tiniest things if you have to, as long as they bring you peace and make you smile. Then you can sleep and be rested and fulfill one small part of your many aspirations on the 'morrow. Like I said, I'm in no place to offer advice to a parent, but this philosophy has helped me get through a lot of depression and a few nervous breakdowns, so... Be Happy.

Often it takes the most courage to post something you yourself feel is "no good". How lovely is it to discover that other people really think it's fab? =) I agree with Pere, I think it flows quite well. It reads almost like a song. A couple slightly awkward spots, but with practice and tweaking those are easily smoothed. Good job! =)

"...And little people know When little people fight We may look easy pickings but we got some bite! So never kick a dog because it just a pup You better run for cover when the pup grow up!" - Les Miserables, Original London Production LOVE the poem, Sorc. =) It really does flow quite nicely, I found. The only problem I found with the last line is that it seems... open ended. Just the tone of the way I read it, perhaps, but it feels unfinished. Wish I could recommend a fix, but I hope that helps. Way to go, Zoolicoo! =)

Ha! And once he sees all those makeup-abusing women without any, he will complaining that they need to wear some... And most women call for the abolishment of the mini-skirt, rather than the more decently lengthed but still sexy if cut properly just above the knee variety, so he'd do well to agree with their sentiments... As for the nude beach part? Ha ha. There are some people that just are not meant to be nude in public... Me being one of them. O.o

"A Mexican newspaper reports that bored Royal Air Force pilots stationed on the Falkland Islands have devised what they consider a marvelous new game. Noting that the local penguins are fascinated by airplanes, the pilots search out a beach where the birds are gathered and fly slowly along it at the water's edge. Perhaps ten thousand penguins turn their heads in unison watching the planes go by, and when the pilots turn around and fly back, the birds turn their heads in the opposite direction, like spectators at a slow-motion tennis match. Then, the paper reports, "The pilots fly out to sea and directly to the penguin colony and overfly it. Heads go up, up, up, and ten thousand penguins fall over gently onto their backs." - Audobon Society Magazine ... I thought you might enjoy one last chuckle. =)

You will be missed, Tas.

The assembled Falliks and Guardians waited tensely until the High Mage could be sure to be out of hearing, then burst into action, the Master and his oldest scions all shouting conflicting orders while the Guardians snapped their whips at any child who strayed too near. The children themselves scurried into the nearest hallway as fast as they could possibly go, scattering to fulfill their many different tasks. Zee, Javick, Kaolin, and Loki congregated in a shadowed niche around a corner and out of sight for a hurried conference. “What do we do?” Loki asked anxiously. Her eyes kept crossing and refocusing – her Gift attacking her conscious mind. “That henchmen almost caught me. I can’t help it. They keep coming! So horrible… I think the High Mage is triggering my… my…” Loki broke off with a half-frantic sob. “I’m so afraid!” Zee glanced at Javick, whose expression was customarily grim, then at Kaolin, who was even quieter than usual. “We’ll jus’ have t’ keep you out o’ sight, Loki. You, too, Kaolin… If that man can do what I think he can, you’re in jus’ as much danger.” “Send them to the laundry,” Javick suggested. “It’s one of the deepest places in the complex, and almost impossible to find if you don’t know where you’re going. I doubt the High Mage’s cronies will go snooping there.” “And you?” Zee queried, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You look like you’re plottin’ somethin’, Javick. Tell me.” “This is the perfect opportunity for Haeli to cause some of her own kind of havoc,” he replied. “I’m going to go… do some damage control.” Zee nodded in understanding. “Th’ Masters’ll expect me in th’ main dinin’ hall, helpin’ t’ set up… Which ‘s why I’ll be in th’ kitchen.” She grinned. “C’mon, now… It’s goin’ t’ be a bad enough night without getting’ caught by th’ Guardians. Girlie, take care of Loki, ‘kay? Don’t let those henchmen near her, no matter what.” Kaolin nodded and tugged Loki’s sleeve, leading her away in the direction of one of the hidden stairways down to the laundry level. Zee nodded once to Javick, then slipped off to her own chores, outwardly as composed as ever, even if her guts were tying and retying themselves into the worst knots ever thought up. By all the Gods, she cursed silently, why did a High Mage have to come here now? Loki was the worst she’d ever been! All they’d need to do is look at her to know something’s odd. Why were they here, anyway? Scouting for test dummies, for their spell experiments? Or for Gifted children? Who was it that Kaolin used to call to, in her first days here? Ah, yes, Zee said to herself, the name floating slowly out of her long-unused memory. Jahkaeva, if you have any power in you at all, watch over those girls tonight… Without some help, they may not make it to morning. * * * * * Dinner that night was the most tense anyone could remember, with the Guardians striking out savagely at imagined misdemeanors and the Masters pacing anxiously at the head of the hall, on the raised dais where the Guardians normally sat to eat. The children stared fixedly at their plates, afraid even to sneeze, as they waited. They were taken from the room in groups of ten or twelve – the number of children who sat at each table. They were led, single file, to the entrance hall, and spread out in short rows for a visual inspection by the High Mage and her manservant, Callin. The inspections were brief, then the children were led back to the dining hall, and another group fetched. Since they sat at the same table, Zee, Javick, Loki, and Kaolin were summoned together. As they lined up, Zee kept stealing glances at Loki, who stood to her left, and Kaolin, who stood beyond Loki. Loki’s eyes had stopped crossing, at least. Kaolin had her head down and her hair dangling in her face to disguise her unusual green eyes. To Zee’s eye, they looked like a pair of relatively normal, if extremely thin, children. She could only hope they looked the same to the High Mage. Unremarkable. Nothing special. Dismissable. Please… Callin’s intense sharp eyes scanned the assembled children slowly, and his body visibly trembled, as if he had to exert an incredible amount of will to keep himself stationary. He really is like a dog, she thought, straining at the end of his lead. A stupid mutt. As his eyes passed over her, her spine crawled and the hair raised up on the backs of her arms and neck. No, not stupid. Not at all. Trained, and very dangerous. The High Mage’s eyes skimmed the assembled as well, and although they lacked her pet’s open keenness, they were no less intense. She affected the indolent pose of someone highly bored with the task at hand, yet her tense expectation radiated from her in almost palpable waves. She was looking for something, and she fully expected to find it here at the Home. Zee’s heart skipped a beat when those dark eyes lighted first on Kaolin, then on Loki… and stopped. She eyed the frail girl contemplatively for a long moment, then waved Callin to her side and open her mouth to speak— “You go too far, Zermaterix!” The massive main doors swung open and slammed against the walls with a resounding crash, propelled by an inhuman strength. A tall, thin man stalked into the dimly lit hall, flanked by three men who positively bristled with bared blades. He swept back his deep hood with an angry jerk of one arm, glaring furiously down his scarred nose at the High Mage and her companions. He radiated intense rage, from the top of his pristine white mane and beard, down to the hemline of his rich blue robe. Callin cringed at his mistress’ side, and the children shrank back against the far wall, hiding their faces from this new menace. Only the High Mage stood unaffected, gazing back at the infuriated man with a bland expression and one finely curved eyebrow raised in query. “I go not far enough, my dear Felamorrell,” she replied, her voice lilting with poorly suppressed amusement. Zee’s blood ran cold and she silently cursed the faceless wench Jahkaeva in every language she knew. By all the Gods! Now they were faced not only with one High Mage, but two! “You trespass in my city!” Zermaterix’s eyes flashed, but her voice was carefully cool when she asked softly, “Since when has one Mage been forbidden from passing through the territory of another? We are not at war, are we, Felamorrell?” “You do not pass through, Zermaterix! You came to scout my resources, to steal what is mine! If there is talent in this city, it is not yours to claim! Even if you came merely for more meat to experiment on, it would still be theft!” “You resources are wasted,” she sneered. “You cannot even see the wealth that lives, dies, and rots under your crooked old nose! I merely skim the refuse, looking to salvage what you have discarded in your ineptitude!” “Hopped up High Bitch! Get out! Leave my city! Tonight! You are not welcome inside these walls! You can be sure the Council will hear of this!” “Bleat your feeble protests to the Council until your voice goes hoarse, old man. I care not.” Zermaterix picked her slow, graceful way across the hall to the main doors, laughingly caressing the unwavering dagger of one of his men as she passed. “Your days are numbered, Felamorrell, and all on the Council know it. No one fears your wrath any longer. I am but the first of many to pay you a visit.” “If you ever return, wench, it will mean war.” She turned and slowly curved her perfect lips into a malicious smile. “You will war us all, Fela dear. Have no fear of that.” “The Council will hear of this intrusion.” She kept walking out the doors and into the cowering night, the harsh sound of her derisive laughter drifting back as her parting shot. The doomed Felamorrell whirled about and raked the assembled children and Guardians with his half-crazed, half-murderous gaze, and settled finally on the largest Guardian present, who happened to be Domas. “If even the barest hint of the faintest of whispers surfaces about this night,” he hissed, “this entire wretched complex and all of its occupants will cease to exist. Understood?” “Perfectly, Great High One,” Domas murmured, bowing so low his forehead almost touched his knees. Felamorrell watched him a minute longer, then whipped about and stormed out of the Hall, signaling irritably to his three men to follow closely behind him. AN: This is pretty much unedited, and written when I was pretty tired, so please forgive (and point out, if you would, in a private message) the type-o demons at work.

Brava to all the promotees. =)

Ummmmmmm... ... ... No. But then, I didn't play AM long... I knew a Burning Squirrel, though. Any relation to your komodo-riding Hamster? O.o

From the Author: To be honest, I don't really know precisely what a vignette is. I always took it to be a brief slice of life. A flash, if you will. So that is what I attempted to do. To Valdar, I apologize to being so late to contribute to your brilliant project. To Vlad, I apologize doubly for being so inexcusably late... And for any character blunders I may have created. If I learned anything doing this, it's that I better stick to my own characters... The Vignettes It is cold. But then, it is always cold. What else could it be, for me? The sun is my merciless, unconquerable nemesis, more eternal than I, a God among men, could ever be; fire, as well most people know, merely flickers across the surface of my person, and certainly fails to spark any lifelike glow beneath my inhuman pallor. That leaves the more... "modern" methods of heat, which merely causes the air to stifle and the few pale hints of vitality to flee even faster from my unaffected presence. Ah, but I ramble... It is an annoying habit, although I've certainly earned the right in over three hundred years. Yes, you heard me right. Three hundred. Heard me. Hm. Who are you, anyway? Not that it matters. You will listen. Of course you will listen. How could you deny *me*? Come, step closer, and turn your gaze out this window here. Let us open it wide - it is cold, this night, colder even than I. The moon is not bright tonight, is it? A million stars as rivals... How... degrading. Is it the moon or the stars that glares down upon my sun-forsaken face? My clothes? My cross? Yes, my cross. Charming little thing, yes? So many think it holds some great, untapped power. The power to repel the undead, even. Ah, but that priest was disappointed when I tore it from his throat. When I tore his throat. Mm. They are *so* irritating, asking me stupid questions about stupid things not even the most stupid mortal would ever deign to read, much less believe. Almost worse are those pitiful humanity-hating humans, those deluded, unliving wretches who dare to call themselves blooddrinkers. Creatures of the night. I was bored one night and hunted them out, you know. I taught them what it was to drink blood, yesss... Blood. Mm. Theirs was not so good, but you look to be healthier that they were. But then, you never know where blood's been, these days. You almost have to start up your own blood bank to get a decent meal in some parts. But I'm rambling again, aren't I? It is the curse of my curse; I am doomed to ramble, and those around me, as my son once did, are forced to listen. For who would be stupid enough to try to stifle a vampire? We are the only creatures who are truly able to evoke unquestioning respect among our peers, and our lessers. Or fear. It is near enough to the same, don't you agree? I heard a song once. Or a poem. Or whatever. Something about drawing lines with a razor. A picture, perhaps. Whatever. The details are inconsequential. All that matters is that I do so now, paint, that is, but with a knife instead of a razor. A very old knife, with a razor edge. Someone gave it to me... A father? A mother? I cannot remember, now. Another curse of the curse, I suppose. Even an unaging memory ages, it seems. The image is so cliched these days, but the blade really does glint in the moonlight, or perhaps the starlight, just enough to see my work by; I am a horrible artist, even after so many years. I lean more towards the maths, myself. Statistics. Mm. Almost as good as blood. As blood? Bah! What am I saying? I must be thirsty. Yes, I am thirsty. Come closer, you. Let us finish this... elsewhere. There is much to speak of that is not for these ears. Let us bid them... good night.

oooooh snazzy! *misses Photoshop, which she lost in her reformatting...*

o.o That was... amazing. Thank you.

Happy Birthday Olliecoo. Hope it was a very fun one!

gark... I'm late! Sorry Zoolicoo! Hope it was a good one!

Oh Yeah? I was listening to the radio (rare footage) and they reported that, several days before the release date, a trailer transporting 7500 copies of the new Harry Potter book was hijacked en route to distribution. They found the trailer, empty, on the side of the road some time later, but all the books were gone. =D

Have a good one =)

You know, I finally figured out why I'll never be the first person to post one of these... you guys are three hours ahead of me! =D Anyway, ignore that minor revelation and have an excellent birthday m'dear. =)