I am grateful for...

Alan Rickman
Toilets
Ice Cream
Dustin Hoffman
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
Shakespeare
Tim Burton
Pajama pants
Balloons
Rain
Spain
When the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.
Hugh Laurie
Monty Python's "Flying Lesson"
Harry Potter
Douglas Adams
La Vie en Rose

But most of all........The Muppets.
Yes, THE MUPPETS.

Today, I made the most important discovery I have ever made, or will make, in my whole life.
The Muppets singing Bohemian Rhapsody.
You heard me!
Prepare to burst into tears with joy.

Holy.......CRAP!!!!!!!!

Oh my........what in the.........it's.......AUGH!
You know what? I'm not even gonna try and explain it. Just watch.



NOVEMBER, PEOPLE!!!!

Writer's Block Ahoy!

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I am willing to pay a hit man...TO PLACE A BURLAP SACK OVER THE UNRULY HEAD OF MY WRITERS BLOCK AND PITCH IT INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE CASPIAN SEA AHHHHH!!!!!
*pant pant pant pant*
Really though. If you want to try your hand at hit manning, call me. This could be your lucky break.

Anyhow, I apologize to my multitudes of admirers that have been neglected. I shan't abandon you for such an excessive amount of time again. Wait, no, I lied. I will be abandoning you. Forever. Unless, of course, my bleedin' writer's block suddenly turns into a stroke of wordsmith's genius and I can take up my pen once more without bursting into defeatist tears. *sniff*
So, until that fateful day, enjoy this sneezing baby panda.

I've got a Golden Ticket!!! Ya dah dah dah dah dah dahh!

Well, actually it's a purple ticket. But I've got it anyway. Yeehaw!

Expound? Certainly!

The Book Fair, which I haven't had the pleasure of going to in years, has finally returned to me. And with it: a writing contest. The dealio was to rewrite an opening/closing chapter of a favorite book. Grand prize= $20 worth of goodies at the shindig. Since I had already rewritten a chapter from Jane Eyre two months ago, I thought I'd turn it in and see what happened. I didn't think anything of it, seeing as the chapter I butchered was from neither the beginning nor the end. But, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, I got a magical, glowing purple note from the office, demanding my presence at the library. Terribly long story short, I won the twenty bucks, the praise, and the crown of writing glory that will set me apart from all inferior authors for the rest of my writing career. *snort* But really, terribly good fun.
So, if my story is just silly enough to win a contest, it is most certainly silly enough to post here.
While you dabble in the insanity, I shall go wet myself thoroughly (in a good way) whilst partaking of Pride and Prejudice. AND ZOMBIES!

This is an insult to Charlotte Bronte. I can hear her turning in her grave. But here it is nonetheless: the thoughts and feelings of Mr. Rochester as Jane is leaving him.

   I paced angrily about the room, using every ounce of willpower I possessed to prevent myself from destroying everything in sight. "Damn him!" echoed through my mind again and again, "Damn that vile scum of the earth to the deepest pit of hell!" I growled this repeatedly under my breath, in the foolish hope that it would indeed happen where Mason stood. "I should have let him die that night. I should have let that scourge of God tear him to pieces, so that he might feel one-thousandth of the agony that kills me now." I stormed with even more spite about the room, cursing everything in my path, while hate spread like fire through my veins. I wished every livid footstep I took were a dagger to plunge into his monstrous heart. Then Jane, as she so often did, crept into my thoughts. "I shouldn't have waited." I stopped my murderous patrol and collapsed in despair onto the sofa beside the fire, my head in my hands. "I should have taken Jane away as soon as she said she'd have me. I should have taken here where none of this could have touched her. But alas, I didn't. The chips have fallen. The deed is done. And now she can no longer love me. How can she? A wondrous creature such as she cannot dare to even look at a monster such as I, let alone love. It is against the force of nature and the power of God. But still, I hope..."
   I pondered over the previous night. That silence, my precious Jane's broken silence, was worse than tears. "I wish I could run to her, to hold her in my arms again, to tell my darling angel how desperately I love her." I wrestled with myself for a moment. "I can! I will! This very moment!" I jumped to my feet and looked around wildly for the clock. It was not past five. She wouldn't be up yet. I began to pace around the room again, each step matching the click of the clock. I paused only when I heard the creak of a floorboard outside the door. Deciding it had been Pilot, I resumed my impatient walk. Tick tick tick. Every second was agonizing, yet I did not abandon my routine. Tick tick tick.  I continued to walk and battle with my thoughts until I heard the sound of footsteps rushing down the hall. Jane! At last! I raced the door, arms wide, ready to receive my love. "George?" my arms were still aloft as the servant entered the dreary chamber. I dropped my arms. "Where is Jane?" "That's just it, sir!" George said, rather breathily. "She isn't here. She has left!" He looked at me in surprise as I laughed wryly. "Jane, gone? George, you've been at Grace Poole's rum, haven't you?" "No sir, I was most sober. I was taking a bit of breakfast up to Miss Eyre's room when I saw that she had gone!" I laughed again. "Surely she is in the library or with Adele-" "I was just in the library sir, Sophie as well. She stated she had not seen Jane and had been searching also. She is gone, Mr. Rochester! I am not mistaken-" "YOU ARE MISTAKEN!" I shouted. I watched the old man's mouth open in surprise. I was shaking with anger as I shouted again, "You are mistaken! Wake every living soul, and search all of Thornfield again and again, and don't you dare come back without her!" 
   George turned and hastened out as I stood there, head pounding, blood racing. "She has not-she will not leave me." I exited the room in a sort of trance, unconscious to the bustle of servants, running about and calling a name. I found myself in Jane's room. I stood there, dazed, surveying the abandoned chamber. The cold bed, the empty wardrobe, the pale wedding dress that hung, suspended like a ghost on the wall, mocking what had never been. I removed it from it's post and held it in my arms, running my fingers over the cold, dead fabric. "Jane." I whispered her name to the dress. "Jane." Her name was a kiss, fleeing from my lips into the frosty, unfeeling dawn. I repeated the name again and again, falling to my knees, as if pleading for mercy, and crumpled onto the floor. I cried her name over and over, holding the dress that had once held my life. Hot tears fell from my eyes, onto my breast, burning there like fire on my shattered heart. "Jane." I pronounced her beautiful name, that glorious syllable once more. Then all went black, and I felt no more. 

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Even in his freaky apparel, Johnny Depp remains ever so sexy.
Tonight.
Midnight.
"All alone on the pavement."
AAHH!

Happy Womb Emancipation Day, Alan Rickman!

Oh, Allie.
You have inspired a deep, fiery love in me, that as Buttercup would put it, cannot be tracked by a thousand bloodhounds, or broken with a thousand swords. You are the cheese to my macaroni. My other half, my one coquette. The answer to my love's duet! Though age may hunch your back, or British tea drinking cause all those wondrous teeth to fall from your head, I-eeee-iiii will always love youuuu!
May you stay forever sexy.
Your dulcet, devoted darling,
Laura Perfervidly Twitter-pated Chapman

And here's to you, Mr. Darcy...

Blah. I wrote this a couple of days ago for a book report. I do hope Simon and Garfunkel won't be too displeased....

And here’s to you, Mr. Darcy
Lizzy loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
Collins bless you please, Mr. Darcy
Hertfordshire holds a place for those who flirt
irt irt irt...irt irt irt


We’d like to know a little bit ‘bout why you’re such a jerk
We’d like for you to learn to drop some pride
Look around you all you see are Lizzy’s pretty eyes
Stroll around her house until you feel in love


And here’s to you, Mr. Darcy
Lizzy loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
Collins bless you please, Mr. Darcy
Hertfordshire holds a place for those who flirt
irt irt irt...irt irt irt


Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your tea-cakes
It’s a little secret, just Mr. Darcy’s affections
Most of all you’ve got to hide it from Lady Cathrine


Coo, coo, ca-choo Mr. Darcy
Lizzy loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
Collins bless you please, Mr. Darcy
Hertfordshire holds a place for those who flirt
irt irt irt...irt irt irt


Sitting in the parlor on a Sunday afternoon
Watchin’ Ms. Bennet play
Think about it, dream about it
What have you got to loose?
Just your connections and your pride


Where have you gone Mr. Wickham?
The militia turns it’s lonely eyes to you
Woo woo woo
What’s that you say, Mr. Darcy?
Whippin’ Wick has left and gone away
Hey hey hey...hey hey hey





Also written a couple days ago for the book report:

Dear Abby,
My once seemingly amiable cousin, whom I shall call “Elizabeth” has just rejected my offer of marriage! I do not understand this refractory refusal! The very nerve of the woman! If you think this a matter of looks, have faith in my words dear woman, I am far from plain. My manners are exquisite, and my sermons, (oh my sermons, my glorious sermons,) are food for the soul from the very bosom of our Lord. It was out of pure sympathy and compassion that I expressed my affections. I felt genuine sorrow when she defied my hand. Sorrow for her! I knew the first time I gazed upon her that her receiving an offer of marriage was as likely as America winning the war! How very put-out I am! She could be toying with my emotions, but in any case, my patroness, the most highly esteemed Lady Catherine De Bourgh, will be very displeased with this situation, I am afraid. And her opinion is the only one that matters.
What is one to do?
-Harassed in Hertfordshire



Dear Harassed,
It is in my professional opinion that when one is attracted to a cousin, they should seek medical attention. Immediately. ASAP. Forthright. Have a good day.
-Abby

I've actually read a Dear Abby terrifyingly similar to the one above. Blah.