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100 words on Pillows February 12, 2008

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Wanted:

Small female and frequent napper seeking mid-seized perfect pillow. Must support neck and always be cool on the other side. Must sustain substantial abuse without complain and be machine washable as outdoor naps are frequent and unannounced. No lumpy applicants permitted. Must keep secrets extremely well and handle being thrown or cried upon. Should be resilient to sleeping in odd positions, locations and adaptable to a variety of surfaces. No funny smells permitted. Need not be compactable, cute, pink, plushy or fuzzy. Can be alive, but must always be ready for a nap. Bony applicants apply else where. 

100 words on Hair February 11, 2008

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When working out, proper attire includes tennis shoes, shorts or spandex of sorts, a tank top perhaps and a hair-tie! Hair should not go flopping around in your face while pounding around the track or dancing in the studio. Farrah fawcett curls whirl around during cardio and shed golden strands on the floor. They stick to my feet and I gag. Her ratty mane flips around at the gym until sweat mats it to her head.  A ponytail follows along at an appropriate distance and does not invade my personal bubble. I try to pawn off my extra hair band.  

100 Words on Green February 10, 2008

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There is something elusive about Brazil that I can’t pin down. Portuguese twists out of their mouths and I can’t untangle the words. My Spanish does me no good. Only 200 miles of coastline separated me from the wide expanse of the green Amazon. I could float up the river and emerge unnoticed. Would I find football hooligans or the pulsating energy of Carnival dancing down the street at 4 am? My country sleeps when the sun goes down; Brazil breaks open from sardine cans and goes streaking into the ocean. I want to put on sequins and go dancing too.

Postsecret February 10, 2008

Posted by onenutcake in Experimentation.
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I was reading postsecret.com this morning and came across a video they made. It is another way to tell a story, or secret in this case, using multimedia.

100 Words on Blisters February 9, 2008

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In predawn light, the volcano lights up the clouds red that threaten to cancel our trek. The snow reflects into my bug-eyed goggles and I lace up my crampons over my bear-sized boots. I think I can. The snowy face deceives my depth perception, but it gives me hope the summit is near. I duct tape my toes and heals like little pigs in a blanket.  My ice pick holds me steady. One foot after another and a box of Frosted Flakes gets me to the top. I wear flip flops for two months afterwards in hopes the blisters will heal soon.

100 Words for Saturday February 8, 2008

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Hey guys! Friday’s Words is….BLISTERS! Hope everyone is enjoying the last days of break!

100 Words on Transitions February 8, 2008

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The transition from 8th grade to high school was the miserable year. The car ride only changed by five minutes.  The student body was enormous and the number of people I knew went from everybody to five. My big brother drove me to school, but he left me in the parking lot on more than one occasion. I made one friend the first day when we both got lost, but he transferred out of my class when I said ‘no’ to a dance. My math teacher posted the number of days until winter break in October. I cried and counted along

100 Words on Wednesday February 7, 2008

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How do you spell Wensdy? I know there are silent letters in Wedsday, maybe a couple of ‘d’s, but I don’t know where they go. That can’t be right. It sounds like I have a cold when I say it out loud, “WEDSDAY” or like maybe I’m from Southy, Boston.  I am not. I spell whatever message my brain translates from my ears to my hand, but I am quite positive that Whensday is not right either! A tutor taught me to say the word in three parts: Wed. Ness. (I can’t think of another kind?) Day. Wednessday…oh no!

100 Words on Chocolate February 5, 2008

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The Periodic Table of a Chocolate habit.

 

[C]risp and powerful, the smell surges up my nostrils when I tear apart the mate black paper.

[H]ot greedy hands tug the satiny bar from its confines. The cold meets my sweaty fingers and I lick off the results.

[O]ne piece snapped off slips under my tongue and oozes into the crevices of my mouth.

[Co]ated with a creamy layer of bittersweet deliciousness, my teeth all but disappear under a winter coat of sweetness.

[La]vish morsels whip my taste buds into a silent frenzy of salivation.

[Te]n seconds of bliss. Rinse and repeat.

100 Words on Victory February 4, 2008

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Back at school and alone in a naked dorm room. It’s been fifteen hours of flying and I am buried deep in the squishiness of my sleeping bag. I want to fall into sleep, but the cold keeps me awake…and the rushing water of my radiator…and my jetlag. I give up and unearth a book from my suitcase and read. It is dark outside and the dorm is dead. I stare at the glowpen writing on my ceiling, “All my love, melting Cow”…even at 4 am this message makes no sense.

                                           

I have a real bed and finally, I sleep. Victory.