I need twelve short stories done by next Tuesday, and I've got no time to edit.
That's where you come in.
(By the way, the italics aren't in there, so just imagine all the thoughts/flashbacks in italics...)
CHALLENGE EIGHT: Bronze Girls
The clatter of the 8 ball hitting the striped orange into the hole sent a rush through his body. Jamie loved billiards, he thought. Except she called it 'pool'. I hated that. She laughed when I told her.
He hit 8 ball again, this time aiming for the striped green. It sailed clean down his imaginary line, straight into the hole. Score.
Setting down the stick--he never actually took the time to learn the equipment names, he just called them as he pleased--and picked up the Red Bull from the billiards table side. Letting out a satisfying "ah", he set it back down and closed his eyes.
He breathed. Not just oxygen, but he breathed life. Red Bull gives you wings, my ass, he thought, because I've already got 'em.
With his imaginary wings intact, he opened his eyes and picked up the stick again. But just as he leaned down to hit the magic 8 again, his line of sight picked up another object.
A blonde.
He smiled to himself. A platinum blonde, even. My, my, what a figure. She's definitely what Jamie would have called a Bronze girl. Bronze girls were what Jamie considered to be the worst type of blondes. She was stereotypical, yes, but who wasn't? Jamie just happened to voice her stereotypes. Loudly.
"Bronze girls are like my mother," she explained to him in sophomore year. "Their hair has a subtly brown color, which is the proof of their natural hair. Also, they're complete bitches."
He had never heard her cuss until that point. Jamie didn't usually swear. She had started to just recently.
Setting down the stick again, he picked up the Red Bull to take another gulp before approaching Miss Blonde--only to find the can empty.
"That's convenient," he muttered to himself. Then, to the female bartender he regarded as Tattoo Chick, he called, "Another Red Bull, and make it quick."
Tattoo Chick nodded back and disappeared under the counter for a total of two seconds before popping back up and throwing him a can. That was the thing he loved about The Palm Trees bar--the workers fully understood what impatience was.
It was a trait he didn't like in himself.
With a twist of the wrist, he poped open the can and gulped down frantically. It was a bad omen, having to get a new can of Red Bull before approaching a blonde. An omen, but not something he would take seriously.
Just then, the blonde turned around.
He nearly choked.
Her eyes...they were green. Cat-like green, just like Jamie. I can't do it to this one, he thought. This time, I...she's too much like Jamie...
Setting the Red Bull down, he leaned against the wall and shut his eyes again. Breathed. Reminisced--though he didn't want to.
Why did she call me first? he wondered. Couldn't she just have done it in her room, all by herself...why'd she drag me into it?
It was senior year of high school, a year until they'd be free. Free from parents, namely. For Jamie, being free from her mother was like going to heaven.
In a way, she got it.
Though I doubt she's in heaven if she committed suicide, he thought. I doubt there's any heaven at all. If there was a God, He wouldn't have taken Jamie away.
Needless to say, he wasn't religious after Jamie's death.
She got the gun from her father. Well, not from him. From his locked drawer. She knew where the key was. She was determined.
It was dramatic. Jamie was always dramatic. First, she dyed her hair blonde. Very blonde.
"I bet Mother would like me now, wouldn't she?" Jamie had cried, the streaks of mascara covering her face like symbols of death. She was stark naked, and didn't care at all. He'd seen her naked before--he was her first, after all. But never naked like this, never naked like...like she was embracing Death, making it easier for him.
"Helen loves you," he murmured, trying to walk closer to her. She shooed him away with the gun in her hand.
"No, no she doesn't!" she cried louder. If only his parents had been home; they would have heard all this commotion, especially at two in the morning. But no, they just had to go to India on the very weekend Jamie planned to off herself. How convenient, eh? "No, Mother loves who she thinks is me. She loves Andrea Jamille Montgomery. But I'm not her."
He couldn't get used to her with the blonde hair. Jamie hated blondes. That's why she had cut off her own blonde, luscious hair in seventh grade and replaced it with a croppy vibrant red number. It was what first attracted him to her.
Her green eyes shined with intensity as her grip on the gun tightened. Her last facial expression was a smile.
Green eyes. That's what brought him back.
The same green eyes that were glancing at him from across the club.
For the first time, he took in her image. Athletic physique, tiny dress, and of course the green eyes. She kept looking at him. It was a flirty, "come get me" look.
He knew he'd oblige.
What am I doing? he asked himself. I never actually look at the blondes.
It was true. He didn't. The only time he actually ever absorbed their image was afterwards, when he was standing over their cold, limp body. Sometimes he'd be dramatic and cut off their hair. Throw it in the pool of blood. Other times he'd keep it simple, with the trademark that made him famous in the ten o' clock news--he'd just dip their fingers in the bronze paint.
Bronze girls...they're complete bitches.
He still remembered her voice.
Walking towards the blonde, he felt his jacket for the knife. Still there. Like always. With each confident step, his heart pounded in time.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Their screams were always the same, once they felt the knife in their stomach. Once they realized he wasn't there to screw them, he was there to kill them. They were all the same. All the blondes had that distant look in their eyes, the O-shape as their mouth, the flaring of the nostrils as their breaths grew quicker and shorter...
He was only a couple feet away now. The blonde was now on full flirt mode, giggling at his sight and twirling her hair.
He was disgusted with her.
And that's why, on a Friday night in The Palm Tree bar, he approached the blonde and gave her his best smile, saying,
"Hi there. I'm Liam. Say, are you a natural blonde?"
Horror – Pool – Losing a Friend
Wings, palm trees, the color bronze
Thank you, darling.
Showing posts with label Story Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story Time. Show all posts
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I typed out this huge comment, and now I'm gonna post it as a blog entry.
But seriously, HJ needs to be continued. Agh. Here, lemme help...
Ch. 3: Nate bumps into Jenna dog-walking, and they have that brief conversation (Jenna's a little snappier, since she doesn't know NOJAC that well...other than the fact that he's creeping her), and the whole dog piss thing. Then Jenna begrudgingly allows Nate to step in in order to change pants. She gives him her older brother's, the same "thank god it's not a miniskirt" convo. They have a snappy conversation. Jenna's mom/dad/whoever you want comes home and sees Nate. Jenna's having a party that weekend and her mom/dad immediately invites Nate. Jenna argues. Mom/Dad wins. Nate's invited, much to Jenna's dismay.
Nate leaves and goes home to his mother/father/whoever it is that didn't abandon him. How does his parent react to it? Freak out that he's wearing somebody else's pants, or don't even notice it? Your choice.
Ch. 4: It's the party, and basically the same as the old party, except this time Jenna avoids him as much as possible. Extend the scene a little though...he sees Jenna, perhaps, and approaches her, but gets cut off by Amelia. They banter. Nate tries to find Jenna again. Amelia tells him that it's no use; she's in love with That Guy from the old chapter. Nate is all in denial etc etc play it out to your advantage (aka, use your humor). He immediately, in a rush of fury, approaches Jenna and That Guy and makes a fool out of himself somehow. Again, use your humor. He promptly gets kicked out? Or...I dunno, he stays, and gets drunk. If he gets kicked out, what will he do? If he gets drunk, he can't wake up the next morning in Jenna's home if she doesn't like him. Or if she's in his home.
Ch. 5: Let's go with the drunk situation. Nate wakes up and it's the whole Jenna scenario. Jenna's still snappy, because...How about her mom/dad stepped in again and suggested he camp out in their guest room after being totally durnk, etc. And Nate's mom called his cell to check in on him, and Jenna picked up. And his mom was okay with it and whatever. So yeah. Um, what else...okay, let's go with the date scenario. I like that, uh, Tori girl. Tori, right? Have Jenna explain to Nate about the date...with a smirk. Jenna's a little bitchy right now. Sorry, Jenna. Ooh, but how about this time, yes Nate does basically ditch the date, but then...
Ch. 6: Tori calls Nate and sets up another date. Use your imagination. Nate's kind of a pushover. A nice guy. You know the drill. But this time it's a double date; Jenna and That Guy, Nate and Tori. He hates it. I have an idea for later on...he's on another date with Tori and he sees That Guy with some other girl. However, Jenna doesn't believe him, and (this is at the point where they're friends again) basically hates him for a while, and she's still going out with the cheating That Guy. But this is later on, like Chapter 20. Pssssha. Because all in between Ch. 7 and 20, Nate and Jenna are becoming friends. Maybe in Ch. 18 ish they start to get feelings, but Jenna wants to be loyal to That Guy. So when Nate tells her about That Guy cheating, she obviously thinks Nate's just trying to get Jenna for himself.
Okay, I'm rambling. Agh.
Anyways, the problem now is the stuff inbetween.
For right now, just write Ch. 3 - 7.
Love,
BEAVER
Ch. 3: Nate bumps into Jenna dog-walking, and they have that brief conversation (Jenna's a little snappier, since she doesn't know NOJAC that well...other than the fact that he's creeping her), and the whole dog piss thing. Then Jenna begrudgingly allows Nate to step in in order to change pants. She gives him her older brother's, the same "thank god it's not a miniskirt" convo. They have a snappy conversation. Jenna's mom/dad/whoever you want comes home and sees Nate. Jenna's having a party that weekend and her mom/dad immediately invites Nate. Jenna argues. Mom/Dad wins. Nate's invited, much to Jenna's dismay.
Nate leaves and goes home to his mother/father/whoever it is that didn't abandon him. How does his parent react to it? Freak out that he's wearing somebody else's pants, or don't even notice it? Your choice.
Ch. 4: It's the party, and basically the same as the old party, except this time Jenna avoids him as much as possible. Extend the scene a little though...he sees Jenna, perhaps, and approaches her, but gets cut off by Amelia. They banter. Nate tries to find Jenna again. Amelia tells him that it's no use; she's in love with That Guy from the old chapter. Nate is all in denial etc etc play it out to your advantage (aka, use your humor). He immediately, in a rush of fury, approaches Jenna and That Guy and makes a fool out of himself somehow. Again, use your humor. He promptly gets kicked out? Or...I dunno, he stays, and gets drunk. If he gets kicked out, what will he do? If he gets drunk, he can't wake up the next morning in Jenna's home if she doesn't like him. Or if she's in his home.
Ch. 5: Let's go with the drunk situation. Nate wakes up and it's the whole Jenna scenario. Jenna's still snappy, because...How about her mom/dad stepped in again and suggested he camp out in their guest room after being totally durnk, etc. And Nate's mom called his cell to check in on him, and Jenna picked up. And his mom was okay with it and whatever. So yeah. Um, what else...okay, let's go with the date scenario. I like that, uh, Tori girl. Tori, right? Have Jenna explain to Nate about the date...with a smirk. Jenna's a little bitchy right now. Sorry, Jenna. Ooh, but how about this time, yes Nate does basically ditch the date, but then...
Ch. 6: Tori calls Nate and sets up another date. Use your imagination. Nate's kind of a pushover. A nice guy. You know the drill. But this time it's a double date; Jenna and That Guy, Nate and Tori. He hates it. I have an idea for later on...he's on another date with Tori and he sees That Guy with some other girl. However, Jenna doesn't believe him, and (this is at the point where they're friends again) basically hates him for a while, and she's still going out with the cheating That Guy. But this is later on, like Chapter 20. Pssssha. Because all in between Ch. 7 and 20, Nate and Jenna are becoming friends. Maybe in Ch. 18 ish they start to get feelings, but Jenna wants to be loyal to That Guy. So when Nate tells her about That Guy cheating, she obviously thinks Nate's just trying to get Jenna for himself.
Okay, I'm rambling. Agh.
Anyways, the problem now is the stuff inbetween.
For right now, just write Ch. 3 - 7.
Love,
BEAVER
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I'm so awesome I turn boyfriends into stone
I was bored, the internet wasn't working, and there was a blank WordPad document on my netbook.
I was taking a walk with my boyfriend when it happened.
I know, taking a walk with your boyfriend? It's the epitome of "cheesy chick flick". But that's the thing with me and Hugh. We are the epitome of "cheesy chick flick". Last Christmas, he walked all the way to my house in a mini-blizzard to give me a beautiful necklace. Well, okay, I'm basically right across the street from him, but it's the thought that counts. And the Valentine's before that, he came to school carrying a gigantic teddy bear--the kind that's five feet tall and they sell at Dollar General for twenty bucks--and a box of Russel Stover chocolates. And my birthday before that (January 5, if you're taking notes), he walked into the school cafeteria carrying a rather large brown box that I would later find out contained an irresistibly cute beagle puppy.
"You know, you look beautiful tonight," Hugh said, interrupting my memories of past Christmases, Valentines, and birthdays. "Especially under the moonlight."
I rest my case. If this night got any cheesier, we'd be flying around on cheese hoverboards while eating parmesan straight from the container.
"Hugh, cut it out." I giggled, taking his hand. "Do you even know what street we're on?"
"Of course I do..." Hugh trailed off.
I laughed, pulling out my GPS-enabled phone. "Alright, I'll take that as a cue to get out the map." I scrolled through the list of destinations. "Hey, so summer's almost over and I think we should talk about how we're going to see each other if we're taking completely different classes senior year--ouch, Hugh, stop squeezing my hand."
He didn't reply.
I groaned, my eyes still glued to the map (I was never good with directions), "Seriously, Hugh, stop goofing arou--OW! Hugh!" Finally, I lifted my eyes from the phone and shot him a death glare.
But he still didn't say anything. In fact, it seemed as if his lips were cemented together so that he couldn't speak, period. And his eyes...they weren't bright and alive like I always knew, but dead and gray and...
Suddenly, the moon came out from behind the cloud it was previously cowering under and I finally got a glimpse of reality.
I screamed.
What else was I supposed to do? I was a seventeen-year-old girl, one who shrieked when confronted with a spider in the bathtub, and here I was in the eerie darkness at nine forty-five at night looking at the boyfriend I'd had for three years.
Who had just turned to stone.
I was taking a walk with my boyfriend when it happened.
I know, taking a walk with your boyfriend? It's the epitome of "cheesy chick flick". But that's the thing with me and Hugh. We are the epitome of "cheesy chick flick". Last Christmas, he walked all the way to my house in a mini-blizzard to give me a beautiful necklace. Well, okay, I'm basically right across the street from him, but it's the thought that counts. And the Valentine's before that, he came to school carrying a gigantic teddy bear--the kind that's five feet tall and they sell at Dollar General for twenty bucks--and a box of Russel Stover chocolates. And my birthday before that (January 5, if you're taking notes), he walked into the school cafeteria carrying a rather large brown box that I would later find out contained an irresistibly cute beagle puppy.
"You know, you look beautiful tonight," Hugh said, interrupting my memories of past Christmases, Valentines, and birthdays. "Especially under the moonlight."
I rest my case. If this night got any cheesier, we'd be flying around on cheese hoverboards while eating parmesan straight from the container.
"Hugh, cut it out." I giggled, taking his hand. "Do you even know what street we're on?"
"Of course I do..." Hugh trailed off.
I laughed, pulling out my GPS-enabled phone. "Alright, I'll take that as a cue to get out the map." I scrolled through the list of destinations. "Hey, so summer's almost over and I think we should talk about how we're going to see each other if we're taking completely different classes senior year--ouch, Hugh, stop squeezing my hand."
He didn't reply.
I groaned, my eyes still glued to the map (I was never good with directions), "Seriously, Hugh, stop goofing arou--OW! Hugh!" Finally, I lifted my eyes from the phone and shot him a death glare.
But he still didn't say anything. In fact, it seemed as if his lips were cemented together so that he couldn't speak, period. And his eyes...they weren't bright and alive like I always knew, but dead and gray and...
Suddenly, the moon came out from behind the cloud it was previously cowering under and I finally got a glimpse of reality.
I screamed.
What else was I supposed to do? I was a seventeen-year-old girl, one who shrieked when confronted with a spider in the bathtub, and here I was in the eerie darkness at nine forty-five at night looking at the boyfriend I'd had for three years.
Who had just turned to stone.
The Art of Ordinary
New pitch:
If being mundane is a superpower, Caleb Calder deserves a cape.
Caleb’s younger sister Amy is a self-proclaimed phenomenon. She was a spelling bee champion at the age of five. She never needed training wheels on her bicycle. She has the ability to turn strawberry yogurt into chocolate mousse (albeit it takes fifteen minutes and a trip to the nearest Wal-Mart).
Caleb is sixteen years old and doesn’t know how to use a washing machine. The only thing he excels at is typing. The time he’s ever been close to female genitalia was during his birth. His only friend is never seen without a fedora. And to top it all off, he’s constantly outshined by his nine-year-old sister.
Caleb always believed he’d be nothing more than average. Caleb was, in fact, correct.
And then he met Audrey Gilmore.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Help meh, sistah beavah!
I have too many adverbs in this chapter.
And it's not even done yet.
[Some things should be in italics, but when I pasted it here it all turned normal and I'm too lazy to go through it again.]
If there's anything that sounds weird/awkward/whatever, tell meh!
And help me kill those goshdang adverbs.
I need to do something with my life.
Other than spend it watching countless hours of porn, of course.
Those were the first thoughts that entered my mind when I woke up the following mid-afternoon after a long night of sneaking around a certain girl’s house. At least I could admit to myself that I needed a more productive way to spend my time. And the first day of summer was the perfect time to start. After I more or less fell off my bed, I reached for a pen and piece of paper.
My list of important things, stuff of that nature, and whatnot that must be accomplished:
1) Make Jenna Laine fall madly in love with me. [This task has not yet been completed. Damn.]
2) Think of other, equally important things to do. [Although I’d much rather do Jenna Laine.]
I examined my list, decided I was satisfied with it, went to the kitchen for food, and called Seth.
He picked up and said, “Hey.”
“Hey, it’s Nate.” I took a bite of my Pop-Tart.
“Thank you for informing me because caller ID doesn’t exist.”
“Okay,” I replied. “So you awake?”
“No, I’m randomly sleep-mumbling into the receiver.” He more than likely gave himself a pat on the back for that one. Seth is impressed by his self-proclaimed witty remarks.
“No kidding. Can I come over?”
Seth paused. “Right now?”
I nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”
“I’m not sure if you’d want to come right now.”
“Why not?”
“Amelia’s here.”
I commenced choking on my Pop-Tart at the mention of her name. “You know, I’m kind of busy today, what with my countless hours of porn that need watching. How about later?”
Seth told me that the incarnation of the devil would be gone in two hours. I hung up the phone, restlessly awaiting five o’ clock to arrive.
When it did, I slapped on a t-shirt and basketball shorts that didn’t look like they’d been worn too much (maybe they smelled like it but all that could be fixed with deodorant and cheap cologne). I didn’t bother trying to start my car and walked to Seth’s house as it was only two blocks away. I was sweating like the armpit of a wrestler by the time I rang Seth’s doorbell. Someone unlocked the door and slid it open. Standing in the doorway was It-Whose-Name-Should-Never-Be-Spoken-Aloud-Unless-You’re-Suicidal-Or-Similarly-Fucked-Up-In-The-Brain. My first instinct was to piss my pants, pelt it with rocks, and run, but thanks to the high amount of self-control I possess, I merely shrieked.
“You weren’t... Seth said... Why are... Dear lord.” I wanted to shrivel up into a ball and decompose on the Millers’ front porch. I rubbed my left forearm as the vague sensation of a sharp object being thrust into my skin overwhelmed me.
Amelia despised me from the moment we met three weeks ago. Seth had invited me to his house to hang out, and when I first saw Amelia, I thought she was fairly decent-looking. Surprising how she was Seth’s sister, because she wasn’t hideous. Evidently, in the Miller family, whoever’s conceived first gets the genes for a nice ass. The only attribute they shared was their fiery red hair. I might have ogled her. She was two years older, about to be a freshman in college, and I didn’t always have the pleasure of being within a thirty foot radius of one, or any living human being with a vagina other than my mother. I didn’t think admiring the big man in the sky’s gift to humanity should be called “objectifying the female body”, but Amelia didn’t feel the same way. Semantics.
My first visit to the Miller house was cut short because I had to go home to tend to my bleeding arm. Where Amelia had thrown her stiletto shoe at me.
I was almost institutionalized after the incident for demonstrating extreme paranoia. Rather, I would have institutionalized myself with the intention that I could to be that much safer from her.
“You.” She looked me up and down. “Just lovely.”
At that moment, Seth, my savior, appeared behind her. He looked at me with an apologetic grin as Amelia and her ever uninterested expression walked away. “She didn’t leave like I thought.”
“I gathered.”
“Sorry.”
“You think she’d mind if we put her in a giant hamster ball?”
Seth didn’t answer.
I walked past him into their living room. A plasma TV hung on their wall opposite the leather sofa. Seth sat down and I sat next to him.
“So,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Want some Doritos?” he asked. What sane human being wouldn’t want Doritos at any given hour of the day? I replied with an affirmative and Seth went into the panty for a bag.
I munched on a chip as I deliberated. “I think...” The words were painful to say. “I think I need girl help.”
“Don’t make this about Jenna.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve only spoken to her once.”
“It is about Jenna. We’re in love, Seth. Our love is deeper than the Mariana Trench.”
Seth didn’t agree with me. “She doesn’t know you.” His voice was flat.
I shifted in my seat. I said, “She will,” at which Seth proceeded to clear his throat loudly.
“In my expertise,” Seth began, “I think it’s best if you talk to Amelia.”
I gasped in horror and shock and disgust. “Gag me with a spoon. I refuse to discuss anything with that parasite.”
“She’s as close to a female as you’ve got,” he pointed out. The initial betrayal I felt wore off when I realized that Amelia did know a lot more about girls than I did. I—begrudgingly—admit that I’m not exactly a ladies’ man. But Amelia hung out with girls all the time, and maybe even knew a thing or two about them.
But the thought of interacting with Amelia without the accompaniment of a machete sent shivers to my spine and made my hands clammy.
“You’ll go with me, won’t you?” I batted my eyelashes at Seth, giving him an angelic grin.
He smiled back at me. “No way in hell.” I’d always commended him for his tendency to be frank. Now he was just being cruel.
“You can’t leave me alone with her.” One of us would be raped if we were left alone together. And there was no doubt that it would be the innocent blond.
I had a feeling Amelia was a registered sex offender in the state of Oklahoma.
“Grow some balls, Nate. You’re taller than her. You’ll live.” And with that, he pushed me down the hall and into his sister’s bedroom. I started drafting my will in my head.
“Don’t do this,” I begged as I disappeared through Amelia’s door. I didn’t know what she would do to me in her bedroom. Seth wasn’t nearly as concerned. He shrugged, turned back, and left me vulnerable to the woman’s malicious deeds. The door clicked shut behind me.
Amelia’s room wasn’t how I imagined it to be. Instead of cobwebs hanging from every corner and a coffin rather than a bed, her walls were light blue and on them hung paintings of flowers. A figure closely resembling Quasimodo was hunched over her desk. Amelia looked up from the book she’d been reading and grimaced. “If you wanted to catch me in here naked, you’ll have no such luck.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
She turned to face me, her massive breasts engulfing half of the room. “What do you want, Carnabie?”
To get into the pants of Jenna Laine. “Girl advice.”
Amelia’s body convulsed and she looked like she was choking. I thought briefly about doing the Heimlich, but she recovered when she burst into laughter. A tear glistened in the corner of her right eye. “Don’t you have to be post-pubescent to be interested in girls?” she asked.
In all my sixteen years, I’d never given girls a second thought until she, the love of my life, came along. Yesterday. “Well, I am. And I need your... your... knowledge,” I spat.
“How many girls have you ever talked to?”
“Plenty.” In my head.
“How many dates have you been on?”
“Plenty,” I said, looking to the left.
“While I hate to question your promiscuity, that’s bullshit.”
She’s on to you, Nate. “I have experience with girls.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “How?”
“Tons of girls play World of Warcraft.”
She pursed her lips as if to say, You realize that many of the “girls” could very well be fifty-year-old men with beer guts and unhealthy desires for sexual relationships with children. Yes, Amelia, I do realize that, but sometimes it’s better if you have a little faith in humanity.
“You know what I think of you right now, Carnabie?” Wordlessly, she rose and exited the room.
“What?” I called after her but didn’t receive a reply. She returned a minute later, grasping a tall bottle in her left hand. Golden caramel liquid sloshed inside.
“This.” She thrust it into my hands.
I read its green label. “You think I’m extra virgin olive oil?”
“You’re practically Andy Stitzer.”
“He ended up losing his virginity,” I stated, confident that I could as well.
“At the age of forty.” My confidence deflated like a sorrowful balloon.
I didn’t feel the need to comment after that.
“How well do you even know this girl?” Amelia asked after a minute of silence.
I proceeded to explain how Jenna and I were soul mates and might as well have known each other since the moment of conception.
“Not at all, huh?”
“I saw her yesterday. And this morning. Very early this morning.” At three am that morning, I had visited Jenna’s house. I wasn’t, however, able to climb to her window because they had a dog. A big dog; by the sounds of it a Rottweiler or a Pit Bull. In a spectacular display of might and courageousness, I ran home.
And it's not even done yet.
[Some things should be in italics, but when I pasted it here it all turned normal and I'm too lazy to go through it again.]
If there's anything that sounds weird/awkward/whatever, tell meh!
And help me kill those goshdang adverbs.
I need to do something with my life.
Other than spend it watching countless hours of porn, of course.
Those were the first thoughts that entered my mind when I woke up the following mid-afternoon after a long night of sneaking around a certain girl’s house. At least I could admit to myself that I needed a more productive way to spend my time. And the first day of summer was the perfect time to start. After I more or less fell off my bed, I reached for a pen and piece of paper.
My list of important things, stuff of that nature, and whatnot that must be accomplished:
1) Make Jenna Laine fall madly in love with me. [This task has not yet been completed. Damn.]
2) Think of other, equally important things to do. [Although I’d much rather do Jenna Laine.]
I examined my list, decided I was satisfied with it, went to the kitchen for food, and called Seth.
He picked up and said, “Hey.”
“Hey, it’s Nate.” I took a bite of my Pop-Tart.
“Thank you for informing me because caller ID doesn’t exist.”
“Okay,” I replied. “So you awake?”
“No, I’m randomly sleep-mumbling into the receiver.” He more than likely gave himself a pat on the back for that one. Seth is impressed by his self-proclaimed witty remarks.
“No kidding. Can I come over?”
Seth paused. “Right now?”
I nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”
“I’m not sure if you’d want to come right now.”
“Why not?”
“Amelia’s here.”
I commenced choking on my Pop-Tart at the mention of her name. “You know, I’m kind of busy today, what with my countless hours of porn that need watching. How about later?”
Seth told me that the incarnation of the devil would be gone in two hours. I hung up the phone, restlessly awaiting five o’ clock to arrive.
When it did, I slapped on a t-shirt and basketball shorts that didn’t look like they’d been worn too much (maybe they smelled like it but all that could be fixed with deodorant and cheap cologne). I didn’t bother trying to start my car and walked to Seth’s house as it was only two blocks away. I was sweating like the armpit of a wrestler by the time I rang Seth’s doorbell. Someone unlocked the door and slid it open. Standing in the doorway was It-Whose-Name-Should-Never-Be-Spoken-Aloud-Unless-You’re-Suicidal-Or-Similarly-Fucked-Up-In-The-Brain. My first instinct was to piss my pants, pelt it with rocks, and run, but thanks to the high amount of self-control I possess, I merely shrieked.
“You weren’t... Seth said... Why are... Dear lord.” I wanted to shrivel up into a ball and decompose on the Millers’ front porch. I rubbed my left forearm as the vague sensation of a sharp object being thrust into my skin overwhelmed me.
Amelia despised me from the moment we met three weeks ago. Seth had invited me to his house to hang out, and when I first saw Amelia, I thought she was fairly decent-looking. Surprising how she was Seth’s sister, because she wasn’t hideous. Evidently, in the Miller family, whoever’s conceived first gets the genes for a nice ass. The only attribute they shared was their fiery red hair. I might have ogled her. She was two years older, about to be a freshman in college, and I didn’t always have the pleasure of being within a thirty foot radius of one, or any living human being with a vagina other than my mother. I didn’t think admiring the big man in the sky’s gift to humanity should be called “objectifying the female body”, but Amelia didn’t feel the same way. Semantics.
My first visit to the Miller house was cut short because I had to go home to tend to my bleeding arm. Where Amelia had thrown her stiletto shoe at me.
I was almost institutionalized after the incident for demonstrating extreme paranoia. Rather, I would have institutionalized myself with the intention that I could to be that much safer from her.
“You.” She looked me up and down. “Just lovely.”
At that moment, Seth, my savior, appeared behind her. He looked at me with an apologetic grin as Amelia and her ever uninterested expression walked away. “She didn’t leave like I thought.”
“I gathered.”
“Sorry.”
“You think she’d mind if we put her in a giant hamster ball?”
Seth didn’t answer.
I walked past him into their living room. A plasma TV hung on their wall opposite the leather sofa. Seth sat down and I sat next to him.
“So,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Want some Doritos?” he asked. What sane human being wouldn’t want Doritos at any given hour of the day? I replied with an affirmative and Seth went into the panty for a bag.
I munched on a chip as I deliberated. “I think...” The words were painful to say. “I think I need girl help.”
“Don’t make this about Jenna.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve only spoken to her once.”
“It is about Jenna. We’re in love, Seth. Our love is deeper than the Mariana Trench.”
Seth didn’t agree with me. “She doesn’t know you.” His voice was flat.
I shifted in my seat. I said, “She will,” at which Seth proceeded to clear his throat loudly.
“In my expertise,” Seth began, “I think it’s best if you talk to Amelia.”
I gasped in horror and shock and disgust. “Gag me with a spoon. I refuse to discuss anything with that parasite.”
“She’s as close to a female as you’ve got,” he pointed out. The initial betrayal I felt wore off when I realized that Amelia did know a lot more about girls than I did. I—begrudgingly—admit that I’m not exactly a ladies’ man. But Amelia hung out with girls all the time, and maybe even knew a thing or two about them.
But the thought of interacting with Amelia without the accompaniment of a machete sent shivers to my spine and made my hands clammy.
“You’ll go with me, won’t you?” I batted my eyelashes at Seth, giving him an angelic grin.
He smiled back at me. “No way in hell.” I’d always commended him for his tendency to be frank. Now he was just being cruel.
“You can’t leave me alone with her.” One of us would be raped if we were left alone together. And there was no doubt that it would be the innocent blond.
I had a feeling Amelia was a registered sex offender in the state of Oklahoma.
“Grow some balls, Nate. You’re taller than her. You’ll live.” And with that, he pushed me down the hall and into his sister’s bedroom. I started drafting my will in my head.
“Don’t do this,” I begged as I disappeared through Amelia’s door. I didn’t know what she would do to me in her bedroom. Seth wasn’t nearly as concerned. He shrugged, turned back, and left me vulnerable to the woman’s malicious deeds. The door clicked shut behind me.
Amelia’s room wasn’t how I imagined it to be. Instead of cobwebs hanging from every corner and a coffin rather than a bed, her walls were light blue and on them hung paintings of flowers. A figure closely resembling Quasimodo was hunched over her desk. Amelia looked up from the book she’d been reading and grimaced. “If you wanted to catch me in here naked, you’ll have no such luck.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
She turned to face me, her massive breasts engulfing half of the room. “What do you want, Carnabie?”
To get into the pants of Jenna Laine. “Girl advice.”
Amelia’s body convulsed and she looked like she was choking. I thought briefly about doing the Heimlich, but she recovered when she burst into laughter. A tear glistened in the corner of her right eye. “Don’t you have to be post-pubescent to be interested in girls?” she asked.
In all my sixteen years, I’d never given girls a second thought until she, the love of my life, came along. Yesterday. “Well, I am. And I need your... your... knowledge,” I spat.
“How many girls have you ever talked to?”
“Plenty.” In my head.
“How many dates have you been on?”
“Plenty,” I said, looking to the left.
“While I hate to question your promiscuity, that’s bullshit.”
She’s on to you, Nate. “I have experience with girls.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “How?”
“Tons of girls play World of Warcraft.”
She pursed her lips as if to say, You realize that many of the “girls” could very well be fifty-year-old men with beer guts and unhealthy desires for sexual relationships with children. Yes, Amelia, I do realize that, but sometimes it’s better if you have a little faith in humanity.
“You know what I think of you right now, Carnabie?” Wordlessly, she rose and exited the room.
“What?” I called after her but didn’t receive a reply. She returned a minute later, grasping a tall bottle in her left hand. Golden caramel liquid sloshed inside.
“This.” She thrust it into my hands.
I read its green label. “You think I’m extra virgin olive oil?”
“You’re practically Andy Stitzer.”
“He ended up losing his virginity,” I stated, confident that I could as well.
“At the age of forty.” My confidence deflated like a sorrowful balloon.
I didn’t feel the need to comment after that.
“How well do you even know this girl?” Amelia asked after a minute of silence.
I proceeded to explain how Jenna and I were soul mates and might as well have known each other since the moment of conception.
“Not at all, huh?”
“I saw her yesterday. And this morning. Very early this morning.” At three am that morning, I had visited Jenna’s house. I wasn’t, however, able to climb to her window because they had a dog. A big dog; by the sounds of it a Rottweiler or a Pit Bull. In a spectacular display of might and courageousness, I ran home.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Beaver testicles were used for medicine...?
WickedBEAVERs
[From Wikipedia]
The beaver (genus Castor) is a primarily nocturnal, large, semi-aquatic rodent. Castor includes two extant species, North American Beaver (Castor canadensis) (native to North America) and European Beaver (Castor fiber) (Eurasia). Beavers are known for building dams, canals, and lodges (homes). They are the second-largest rodent in the world (after the capybara). Their colonies create one or more dams to provide still, deep water to protect against predators, and to float food and building material. The North American beaver population was once more than 60 million, but as of 1988 was 6–12 million. This population decline is due to extensive hunting for fur, for glands used as medicine and perfume, and because their harvesting of trees and flooding of waterways may interfere with other land uses.
Beavers are known for their natural trait of building dams on rivers and streams, and building their homes (known as "lodges") in the resulting pond. Beavers also build canals to float build materials that are difficult to haul over land. They use powerful front teeth to cut trees and plants that they use for building and for food. In the absence of existing ponds, beavers must construct dams before building their lodges. First they place vertical poles, then fill between the poles with a crisscross of horizontally placed branches. They fill in the gaps between the branches with a combination of weeds and mud until the dam impounds sufficient water to surround the lodge.
In other words...HOW TO BUILD A LODGE:
1) Place vertical poles, then put horizontal branches
2) Fill in gaps with weeds and mud
3) ...Now you have a dam
They are known for their alarm signal: when startled or frightened, a swimming beaver will rapidly dive while forcefully slapping the water with its broad tail, audible over great distances above and below water. This serves as a warning to beavers in the area. Once a beaver has sounded the alarm, nearby beavers dive and may not reemerge for some time. Beavers are slow on land, but are good swimmers that can stay under water for as long as 15 minutes.
Beavers do not hibernate, but store sticks and logs in a pile in their ponds, eating the underbark. Some of the pile is generally above water and accumulates snow in the winter. This insulation of snow often keeps the water from freezing in and around the food pile, providing a location where beavers can breathe when outside their lodge.
Beavers have webbed hind-feet, and a broad, scaly tail. They have poor eyesight, but keen senses of hearing, smell, and touch. A beaver's teeth grow continuously so that they are not worn down by chewing on wood. Their four incisors are composed of hard orange enamel on the front and a softer dentin on the back. The chisel-like ends of incisors are maintained by their self-sharpening wear pattern.
Beavers continue to grow throughout life. Adult specimens weighing over 25 kg (55 lb) are not uncommon. Females are as large or larger than males of the same age, which is uncommon among mammals. Beavers live up to 24 years of age in the wild.
Beavers fell trees for several reasons. They fell large mature trees, usually in strategic locations, to form the basis of a dam, but European beavers tend to use small diameter (<10 cm) trees for this purpose. Beavers fell small trees, especially young second-growth trees, for food.
Beaver dams are created as a protection against predators, such as coyotes, wolves and bears, and to provide easy access to food during winter. Beavers always work at night and are prolific builders, carrying mud and stones with their fore-paws and timber between their teeth. Because of this, destroying a beaver dam without removing the beavers is difficult, especially if the dam is downstream of an active lodge. Beavers can rebuild such primary dams overnight, though they may not defend secondary dams as vigorously. (Beavers may create a series of dams along a river.)
The ponds created by well-maintained dams help isolate the beavers' homes, their lodges, which are created from severed branches and mud. The beavers cover their lodges late every autumn with fresh mud, which freezes when the frost sets in. The mud becomes almost as hard as stone, and neither wolves nor wolverines can penetrate it.
The lodge has underwater entrances to make entry nearly impossible for any other animal (however, muskrats have been seen living inside beaver lodges with the beavers who made them). A very small amount of the lodge is actually used as a living area. Contrary to popular belief, beavers actually dig out their dens with underwater entrances after they finish building the dams and lodge structures. There are typically two dens within the lodge, one for drying off after exiting the water, and another, drier one where the family actually lives.
Beaver houses are formed of the same materials as the dams, with little order or regularity of structure, and seldom contain more than four adult and six or eight young beavers. Some of the larger houses have one or more partitions, but these are only posts of the main building left by the builders to support the roof, for the apartments usually have no communication with each other except by water.
Both beaver testicles and castoreum, a bitter-tasting secretion with a slightly fetid odor contained in the castor sacs of male or female beaver, have been articles of trade for use in traditional medicine. Yupik (Eskimo) medicine used dried beaver testicles like willow bark to relieve pain. Beaver testicles were exported from Levant (a region centered on Lebanon and Israel) from the tenth to nineteenth century. Claudius Aelianus comically described beavers chewing off their testicles to preserve themselves from hunters, which is not possible because the beaver's testicles are inside its body. European beavers (Castor fiber) were eventually hunted nearly to extinction in part for the production of castoreum, which was used as an analgesic, anti-inflammatory, and antipyretic. Castoreum was described in the 1911 British Pharmaceutical Codex for use in dysmenorrhea and hysterical conditions (i.e. pertaining to the womb), for raising blood pressure and increasing cardiac output. The activity of castoreum has been credited to the accumulation of salicin from willow trees in the beaver's diet, which is transformed to salicylic acid and has an action very similar to aspirin. Castoreum continues to be used in perfume production.
The only thing I managed to get from that was...ITS WEEWEE WAS USED FOR MEDICINE?!
[From Wikipedia]
The beaver (genus Castor) is a primarily nocturnal, large, semi-aquatic rodent. Castor includes two extant species, North American Beaver (Castor canadensis) (native to North America) and European Beaver (Castor fiber) (Eurasia). Beavers are known for building dams, canals, and lodges (homes). They are the second-largest rodent in the world (after the capybara). Their colonies create one or more dams to provide still, deep water to protect against predators, and to float food and building material. The North American beaver population was once more than 60 million, but as of 1988 was 6–12 million. This population decline is due to extensive hunting for fur, for glands used as medicine and perfume, and because their harvesting of trees and flooding of waterways may interfere with other land uses.
Beavers are known for their natural trait of building dams on rivers and streams, and building their homes (known as "lodges") in the resulting pond. Beavers also build canals to float build materials that are difficult to haul over land. They use powerful front teeth to cut trees and plants that they use for building and for food. In the absence of existing ponds, beavers must construct dams before building their lodges. First they place vertical poles, then fill between the poles with a crisscross of horizontally placed branches. They fill in the gaps between the branches with a combination of weeds and mud until the dam impounds sufficient water to surround the lodge.
In other words...HOW TO BUILD A LODGE:
1) Place vertical poles, then put horizontal branches
2) Fill in gaps with weeds and mud
3) ...Now you have a dam
They are known for their alarm signal: when startled or frightened, a swimming beaver will rapidly dive while forcefully slapping the water with its broad tail, audible over great distances above and below water. This serves as a warning to beavers in the area. Once a beaver has sounded the alarm, nearby beavers dive and may not reemerge for some time. Beavers are slow on land, but are good swimmers that can stay under water for as long as 15 minutes.
Beavers do not hibernate, but store sticks and logs in a pile in their ponds, eating the underbark. Some of the pile is generally above water and accumulates snow in the winter. This insulation of snow often keeps the water from freezing in and around the food pile, providing a location where beavers can breathe when outside their lodge.
Beavers have webbed hind-feet, and a broad, scaly tail. They have poor eyesight, but keen senses of hearing, smell, and touch. A beaver's teeth grow continuously so that they are not worn down by chewing on wood. Their four incisors are composed of hard orange enamel on the front and a softer dentin on the back. The chisel-like ends of incisors are maintained by their self-sharpening wear pattern.
Beavers continue to grow throughout life. Adult specimens weighing over 25 kg (55 lb) are not uncommon. Females are as large or larger than males of the same age, which is uncommon among mammals. Beavers live up to 24 years of age in the wild.
Beavers fell trees for several reasons. They fell large mature trees, usually in strategic locations, to form the basis of a dam, but European beavers tend to use small diameter (<10 cm) trees for this purpose. Beavers fell small trees, especially young second-growth trees, for food.
Beaver dams are created as a protection against predators, such as coyotes, wolves and bears, and to provide easy access to food during winter. Beavers always work at night and are prolific builders, carrying mud and stones with their fore-paws and timber between their teeth. Because of this, destroying a beaver dam without removing the beavers is difficult, especially if the dam is downstream of an active lodge. Beavers can rebuild such primary dams overnight, though they may not defend secondary dams as vigorously. (Beavers may create a series of dams along a river.)
The ponds created by well-maintained dams help isolate the beavers' homes, their lodges, which are created from severed branches and mud. The beavers cover their lodges late every autumn with fresh mud, which freezes when the frost sets in. The mud becomes almost as hard as stone, and neither wolves nor wolverines can penetrate it.
The lodge has underwater entrances to make entry nearly impossible for any other animal (however, muskrats have been seen living inside beaver lodges with the beavers who made them). A very small amount of the lodge is actually used as a living area. Contrary to popular belief, beavers actually dig out their dens with underwater entrances after they finish building the dams and lodge structures. There are typically two dens within the lodge, one for drying off after exiting the water, and another, drier one where the family actually lives.
Beaver houses are formed of the same materials as the dams, with little order or regularity of structure, and seldom contain more than four adult and six or eight young beavers. Some of the larger houses have one or more partitions, but these are only posts of the main building left by the builders to support the roof, for the apartments usually have no communication with each other except by water.
Both beaver testicles and castoreum, a bitter-tasting secretion with a slightly fetid odor contained in the castor sacs of male or female beaver, have been articles of trade for use in traditional medicine. Yupik (Eskimo) medicine used dried beaver testicles like willow bark to relieve pain. Beaver testicles were exported from Levant (a region centered on Lebanon and Israel) from the tenth to nineteenth century. Claudius Aelianus comically described beavers chewing off their testicles to preserve themselves from hunters, which is not possible because the beaver's testicles are inside its body. European beavers (Castor fiber) were eventually hunted nearly to extinction in part for the production of castoreum, which was used as an analgesic, anti-inflammatory, and antipyretic. Castoreum was described in the 1911 British Pharmaceutical Codex for use in dysmenorrhea and hysterical conditions (i.e. pertaining to the womb), for raising blood pressure and increasing cardiac output. The activity of castoreum has been credited to the accumulation of salicin from willow trees in the beaver's diet, which is transformed to salicylic acid and has an action very similar to aspirin. Castoreum continues to be used in perfume production.
The only thing I managed to get from that was...ITS WEEWEE WAS USED FOR MEDICINE?!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
My role model right here, ladies and gents
[Taken from imdb.com]
Audrey Hepburn was born on May 4, 1929 in Brussels, Belgium. She really was blue-blood from the beginning with her father, a wealthy English banker, and her mother, a Dutch baroness. After her parents divorced, Audrey went to London with her mother where she went to a private girls school. Later, when her mother moved back to the Netherlands, she attended private schools as well. While vacationing with her mother in Arnhem, Holland, Hitler's army took over the town. It was here that she fell on hard times during the Nazi occupation. Audrey suffered from depression and malnutrition.
After the liberation, Audrey went to a ballet school in London on a scholarship and later began a modeling career. As a model, she was graceful and, it seemed, she had found her niche in life - until the film producers came calling. After being spotted modeling by a producer, she was signed to a bit part in the European film Dutch in Seven Lessons (1948) in 1948. Later, she had a speaking role in the 1951 film, Young Wives' Tale (1951) as Eve Lester. The part still wasn't much, so she headed to America to try her luck there.
Audrey gained immediate prominence in the US with her role in Roman Holiday (1953) [MY SECOND FAVORITE AUDREY MOVIE] in 1953. This film turned out to be a smashing success as she won an Oscar as Best Actress. This gained her enormous popularity and more plum roles.
One of the reasons for her popularity was the fact that she was so elf-like and had class, unlike the sex-goddesses of the time.
Roman Holiday (1953) was followed by another similarly wonderful performance in the 1957 classic Funny Face (1957) [I just watched that a couple weeks ago and I loved it. Especially when she whacks a guy with pottery because he was making a move on her].
Sabrina (1954) [MY FAVORITE AUDREY MOVIE...with her starring opposite Humphrey Bogart of Casablanca], in 1954, for which she received another Academy nomination, and Love in the Afternoon (1957), in 1957, also garnered rave reviews. In 1959, she received yet another nomination for her role in The Nun's Story (1959).
Audrey reached the pinnacle of her career when she played Holly Golightly in the delightful film Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) in 1961. For this she received another nomination. She scored commercial success again in the espionage caper Charade (1963). One of Audrey's most radiant roles was in the fine production of My Fair Lady (1964) [it was a kind of sexist film, but whatever] in 1964.
Her co-star, Rex Harrison, once was asked to identify his favorite leading lady. Without hesitation, he replied, "Audrey Hepburn in 'My Fair Lady.'"
After a couple of other movies, most notably Two for the Road (1967), she hit pay dirt and another nomination in 1967's Wait Until Dark (1967) [That was very creepy, but good nonetheless]. By the end of the sixties, after her divorce from actor Mel Ferrer, Audrey decided to retire while she was on top. Later she married Dr. Andrea Dotti. From time to time, she would appear on the silver screen. One film of note was Robin and Marian (1976), with Sean Connery in 1976.
In 1988, Audrey became a special ambassador to the United Nations UNICEF fund helping children in Latin America and Africa, a position she retained until 1993.
She was named to People's magazine as one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world.
Her last film was Always (1989) in 1989. Audrey Hepburn died on January 20, 1993 in Tolochnaz, Switzerland, from appendicular cancer. She had made a total of 31 high quality movies. Her elegance and style will always be remembered in film history as evidenced by her being named in Empire magazine's "The Top 100 Movie Stars of All Time."
Would it be considered geeky if I didn't have to look up anything for those captions? Well, except for finding Peck's name. It just slipped my mind. But I knew about the To Kill a Mockingbird part.
Okay, definitely geeky.
But I'm serious. Not enough people know about Audrey Hepburn and her amazing talents. Not only was she an excellent actress, dancer, and model--but also a humanitarian. She worked with UNICEF nearly her whole life. Any old actress could be named my role model, but I choose Audrey because she's so unbelievably talented in every aspect. One of her most famous quotes is:
"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles."
You go, girl.
Audrey Hepburn was born on May 4, 1929 in Brussels, Belgium. She really was blue-blood from the beginning with her father, a wealthy English banker, and her mother, a Dutch baroness. After her parents divorced, Audrey went to London with her mother where she went to a private girls school. Later, when her mother moved back to the Netherlands, she attended private schools as well. While vacationing with her mother in Arnhem, Holland, Hitler's army took over the town. It was here that she fell on hard times during the Nazi occupation. Audrey suffered from depression and malnutrition.
After the liberation, Audrey went to a ballet school in London on a scholarship and later began a modeling career. As a model, she was graceful and, it seemed, she had found her niche in life - until the film producers came calling. After being spotted modeling by a producer, she was signed to a bit part in the European film Dutch in Seven Lessons (1948) in 1948. Later, she had a speaking role in the 1951 film, Young Wives' Tale (1951) as Eve Lester. The part still wasn't much, so she headed to America to try her luck there.
Audrey gained immediate prominence in the US with her role in Roman Holiday (1953) [MY SECOND FAVORITE AUDREY MOVIE] in 1953. This film turned out to be a smashing success as she won an Oscar as Best Actress. This gained her enormous popularity and more plum roles.
One of the reasons for her popularity was the fact that she was so elf-like and had class, unlike the sex-goddesses of the time.
Roman Holiday (1953) was followed by another similarly wonderful performance in the 1957 classic Funny Face (1957) [I just watched that a couple weeks ago and I loved it. Especially when she whacks a guy with pottery because he was making a move on her].
Sabrina (1954) [MY FAVORITE AUDREY MOVIE...with her starring opposite Humphrey Bogart of Casablanca], in 1954, for which she received another Academy nomination, and Love in the Afternoon (1957), in 1957, also garnered rave reviews. In 1959, she received yet another nomination for her role in The Nun's Story (1959).
Audrey reached the pinnacle of her career when she played Holly Golightly in the delightful film Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) in 1961. For this she received another nomination. She scored commercial success again in the espionage caper Charade (1963). One of Audrey's most radiant roles was in the fine production of My Fair Lady (1964) [it was a kind of sexist film, but whatever] in 1964.
Her co-star, Rex Harrison, once was asked to identify his favorite leading lady. Without hesitation, he replied, "Audrey Hepburn in 'My Fair Lady.'"
After a couple of other movies, most notably Two for the Road (1967), she hit pay dirt and another nomination in 1967's Wait Until Dark (1967) [That was very creepy, but good nonetheless]. By the end of the sixties, after her divorce from actor Mel Ferrer, Audrey decided to retire while she was on top. Later she married Dr. Andrea Dotti. From time to time, she would appear on the silver screen. One film of note was Robin and Marian (1976), with Sean Connery in 1976.
In 1988, Audrey became a special ambassador to the United Nations UNICEF fund helping children in Latin America and Africa, a position she retained until 1993.
She was named to People's magazine as one of the 50 most beautiful people in the world.
Her last film was Always (1989) in 1989. Audrey Hepburn died on January 20, 1993 in Tolochnaz, Switzerland, from appendicular cancer. She had made a total of 31 high quality movies. Her elegance and style will always be remembered in film history as evidenced by her being named in Empire magazine's "The Top 100 Movie Stars of All Time."
 |
| One of Audrey's famous photo shoot pictures (where she's made famous with the black Catwoman-esque suit) |
 |
| Audrey in Funny Face |
 |
| Audrey in Sabrina |
 |
| Audrey in her most famous role as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's |
 |
| My favorite picture of Audrey; it completely embodies her character of having a sleek body without flaunting it |
 |
| Audrey in Roman Holiday opposite Gregory Peck (whose most famous role is as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird) |
Okay, definitely geeky.
But I'm serious. Not enough people know about Audrey Hepburn and her amazing talents. Not only was she an excellent actress, dancer, and model--but also a humanitarian. She worked with UNICEF nearly her whole life. Any old actress could be named my role model, but I choose Audrey because she's so unbelievably talented in every aspect. One of her most famous quotes is:
"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles."
You go, girl.
Hi, I'm Beaver, and I'm a Facebook Freak.
Hi, Beaver.
It started out slowly...I mean, you only have about thirty friends in the beginning, right?
Go on.
Well, at first it was just "Hi, Bob" and "Heya, Mary". Some occasional pokes. A virtual present here and there.
We understand.
And then there it was. That stupid farm. Suddenly, everything was fertilizing crops, milking cows, planting trees and all. And after Farmville was Sorority Life. I got sucked in by the sparkly dresses.
Darn those sparkly dresses!
Calm down, Frank. Let Beaver continue.
SuperPoke Pets was horrible. That turtle...such a cute turtle. I named him Otis. And he was my Otis.
Continue.
But the worst was Mafia Wars. Ohhhh Mafia Wars. I'm on Level 130 now, you know? And I can't stop. I just can't stop...
But you've been getting better, right, Beaver?
Right. I've slowly turned away from the apps and focused on wall posts. And et cetera.
That's great!
And now there's a new problem.
Hmm?
I'm spamming people's walls.
...All right, who wants to go next? Frank?
I need to check my Facebook. Hold on.
It started out slowly...I mean, you only have about thirty friends in the beginning, right?
Go on.
Well, at first it was just "Hi, Bob" and "Heya, Mary". Some occasional pokes. A virtual present here and there.
We understand.
And then there it was. That stupid farm. Suddenly, everything was fertilizing crops, milking cows, planting trees and all. And after Farmville was Sorority Life. I got sucked in by the sparkly dresses.
Darn those sparkly dresses!
Calm down, Frank. Let Beaver continue.
SuperPoke Pets was horrible. That turtle...such a cute turtle. I named him Otis. And he was my Otis.
Continue.
But the worst was Mafia Wars. Ohhhh Mafia Wars. I'm on Level 130 now, you know? And I can't stop. I just can't stop...
But you've been getting better, right, Beaver?
Right. I've slowly turned away from the apps and focused on wall posts. And et cetera.
That's great!
And now there's a new problem.
Hmm?
I'm spamming people's walls.
...All right, who wants to go next? Frank?
I need to check my Facebook. Hold on.
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