This hours ghost story, updated photos and sounds will come next half hour!

Date: Sat, 23 May 1998 16:05:23 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname Believer
email LadyRelm2@aol.com

Reading these stories just made me remember an experience that I had buried because it had disturbed me so deeply.

My mother,stepfather, and I were spending the night at my stepfather's mother's house. I am not sure how old the house is, but his mother collects antiques. Her house if full to the brim with them. I was staying in a spare bedroom in between my stepfather's room and his mother's room. His mother's house was far into the country and her only neighbor within miles was an Amish family about 1/2 mile down the road.

The overhead light in my bedroom was an antique chandalier. I am not sure how old it was or it's history. It was cast iron and shaped in a circle. It scared me because it had what looked like daggers even spaced around the circle form of it. Even more disconcerting...it hung just directly over my bed so I would lay in bed and have to stare up at it.

My stepdad is into playing guitars so there were several guitars around the room on stands. Since the room always scared me to death, I would always sleep with a lamp on next to the bed. I laid awake for a long time scared to death because of that chandalier....I am not sure when I feel asleep but as I was sleeping I could hear something going on in the room. I couldn't tell exactly what but as I started to wake up, I could hear things. I could hear a very VERY loud growling. I can't really explain it very well.... it was not like a dog or anything but more gutteral....the closest I can come to it is sort of like a lion. I could also hear a lamb in the background....it was bleating like it was terrified. The other noise that I could hear as I was waking was the guitars. They were all playing but the music coming from them was very course. The more I began to awaken the louder the noise got....as my brain began to make sense of what I was hearing.....I snapped my eyes open and sat up
I sat awake the rest of the night. I was scared to death. No one else had awakened or heard anything.

I found out later that day that the Amish family down the street had lost a lamb that night. The scary part of it was that it just disappeared. Their dogs never barked (nor did my stepdad's dog) and there was no sign of disturbance in the barn or anywhere.

My steddad's mother has never reported anything supernatural from her house. However....I never slept in that bedroom again.

You can now enter to win some junk that you don't need (but don't worry, it's fun junk) by clicking on the image above and filling out the form. More (slues! lol) of prizes will be added as the `Thon continues.

I will do a little cap of each prize in just a few minutes, just incase you want to know what you could win. If you're the type of person who enjoys getting weird things from weird unknown girls in the mail then cover your eyes and hum the Smurf theme for a few bit, so I don't spoil it for you.

New photos and sounds are up.

In just about 45 minutes I'll be opening the page where you can sign up to win some fun prizes. It's easy, all you have to do is fill out a simple form and you'll be entered into the drawing. Winners will be notified 48 hours after the 'Thon is finished.


Prizes include memberships to OPIT, books, paranormal investigation gear and fun metaphysical woo-woo type stuff.

Thanks to OPIT and my other private donators for the prizes!

Now I'll answer a couple questions I've been asked about Paranormal Investigating. If you have any questions you want answered (I'll feature this on and off all day) just drop me an E-mail or leave me a comment with your question.


Question two is also from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.


Q: What kind of equipment do you use?


A: We use all kinds of equipment. Here's a partial list and the reasons why.

Flashlights -

Obviously you can figure out what these are for!


Extra Batteries -

Because you never know when you need them


Mini and Normal Tape Recorders -

Tape recorders are great for picking up any sound that you can't hear. Sounds picked up from tape are called EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomenon).


Compass -

Sometimes fluxes in energy can cause a compass to move. This is a great way to figure out what spots to take pictures in. That takes us to the next one.


Cameras. Instant, digital and 35 mm -

Cameras are a huge tool in cataloging paranormal activity. Things seen on film run from orbs and vortexes to complete manifestations.


Digital thermometers -

Great for reading the temp where you want to take a picture or near static equipment like tape recorders. Changes in energy causes things like 'cold spots' and a Thermometer is a great tool for cataloging those types of occurances.


Those are some of the equipment we use, I've got lots more so next hour I'll post a few more of the stuff that's in all my bags of crap.

This hours ghost story, remember if you have a ghost story of your own you'd like to share, just send it to me!


Nursing Home

Date: Tue, 23 Jun 1998 09:31:24 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
address anonymous

About six years ago, I started working as a nurse's aide at a nursing home.

I heard other employees talking about the ghost of a little boy, but I just dismissed the idea. It seems as though every nursing home and hospital has that type of rumor circulating. Anyway, I worked the 3 - 11 shift, and one of my jobs was to put the residents to bed. Most of the residents I took care of had severe cases of Alzheimer's disease. Most were able to talk and carry on a conversation, but if I approached them five minutes later, they had no idea who I was, let alone remember that they had just had a conversation with me. This is important because it proves it was not just a case of the residents trying to pull a fast one on the employees.

I remember the first time I heard one of the residents talk about the little boy. I heard a resident talking to himself in his room, so I went in to see what was going on. I asked him who he was talking to, and he said, "That little boy right there." Of course, I did not see anybody. Another time, a woman was having a hard time sleeping. I asked her what the problem was. "That little boy keeps coming in and talking to me," she said. This type of thing happened to me often - usually at least two or three times a week. It occured with several different residents, not just two or three. And they all described the boy exactly the same. He was about five or six years old, wearing bib overalls, and had black curly hair. He never caused any harm, and there was no physical evidence such as things moving on there own. But it was always the residents who where in a confused state of mind who saw him. Residents who had all their mental capacities never saw him, and neither did employees. I did some research, and found out from some local people who have lived in the area for years that about 50 years ago on Route 66 (which runs right next to the nursing home and is now just a service road) a young boy fitting that description was killed in a car accident.

Wow, almost ten already! Time does go by fast when you're rushing around trying to get things done.


Since I've already updated the sounds and photos for this hour (next update will be around 10:30) and I've already fed you a ghost story for this hour as well, I'll answer a couple questions I've been asked about Paranormal Investigating. If you have any questions you want answered (I'll feature this on and off all day) just drop me an E-mail or leave me a comment with your question.


Question one comes from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.


Q: How do you choose locations to investigate?


A: We get locations to investigate in various ways. Sometimes they're submitted by people who know others in the group. Sometimes we're contacted by people who want us to investigate a spot for them. We also stumble over areas (like graveyards) at times, and decide it might be worth looking into.


Once we get a submission for a place to investigate, we follow some guidelines we've set for our group in deciding if it's a place that we want to look into. This usally involves researching history and interviewing people if neccessary. If we decide that we'd like to try an Inves. there, we then schedual a informal or formal investigation depending on the type of location it is.


After a while, your investigation areas just build up to a bunch of regular haunts. (ok ok, I'm sorry)

New pictures and a new featured sound are up. Old sounds can be found on the 'Graveyard Sounds' page.

A ghost story for this 30's post.


Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Reflection/Dream or Real?
Date: Wed, 02 Apr 1997 23:01:24 GMT

I've been fortunate enough to find a bunch of older stories on Obiwan's Home Page and fell in love with the fact that people aren't afraid to tell their stories. So I tracked down your newgroup and am attempting my first post. Here goes, bear with me.

I will post more later if it's received well.

This one took place when I was very little, about 5 or 6. We had just moved into a new house, about a block down the street from where my two brothers had been born. The previous owners had taken less than perfect care of the house and the back porch, (which was enclosed) was filled with bags of garbage. It took my parents, with me helping (mostly getting under-foot), almost two weeks to make the house clean enough to move into.

Once that was taken care of, I plodded myself upstairs, proclaiming loudly that the room at the top of the stairs was mine, that Elizabeth had said she'd share. My parents looked at me strangely, but shrugged and chalked it up to an overactive imagination, but giving into my request for the room.

About a month after moving in completely, I went to bed; tossing and turning, unable to sleep (I think the first day of Kindergarten was the next day...). As I rolled from facing the wall to facing my dresser across the room, I had a feeling that something in the room just didn't seem right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Focusing my eyes as best I could, I realized that I was seeing my reflection in my dresser mirror. But, no, wait, I didn't have a blue nightgown on! I did a double-take.

A girl of about 16 or 17 stood in front of the only window in my room, clad in a pale blue gown, but white otherwise. She seemed to staring into the backyard for some reason. As I watched her, I began to drift off to sleep, feeling nothing menacing about her. Then suddenly, that changed.

The temperature in the room dropped almost 20 degrees as she slowly turned from the window and looked straight at me.

At first I was stunned. But as she began to approach the bed, her face changed from it's calm facade to a truly malevolent portrait. At about the same time, I remember a music box of mine beginning to play in the background (odd thing to happen, though my mother confirms this).

Downstairs, my mother heard the music box start and came up to see if I was out of bed and to yell at me. Halfway up the stairs, she says, she heard me scream. All I remember is Elizabeth fading as my mother burst into the room and the music immediately stopping at the same time.

Yay! Now blogger is posting twice!

Phew, cut it kind of close with that last one.

Added a 'featured sound' in which I will feature past and present sounds found in the graveyard. These sounds will change once an hour, and any new sounds from the tapes recorded last night will be announced here.


At noon I will be opening the drawing to give away prizes that have been donated. Current prizes are the following, prize details will be explained more on the prizes page.

Misc:

A pair of brass dowsing rods

3 OOS or IS memberships to OPIT



Books:

Historic Haunted America - By Michael Normal and Beth Scott

Poltergeusts & The Paranormal - Dr. Phillip Stander & Dr. Payl Schmolling

The Enchanted World - Ghosts - Time Life Books

A Winters Haunting - Dan Simmons


More prizes may be announced as the day goes on. Thanks for everyone who donated prizes!

Hrm

Manda just brought up a very good question, she wanted to know if I'll accept other peoples graveyard photos.


The answer is 'YEP!' if you have a graveyard (or ghost/orb/ect) photo send it my way and I'll feature it as a guest photo. If I get enough of them, I'll try and do a few each hour. Just ship them on over to me.


Also, send me your ghost stories, encounters, and sounds too if you've got them.

Four new graveyard pictures for your viewing pleasure. Also moved the past photos to the 'past photographs' page so that if you wish, you can view the past photos.


Crap I'm boring.


Check out Wendy, who just got sent two pictures of the outhouse in the graveyard to add to her plethora of potty pictures.

So, blogger's screwing up.



It's giving me like one line to write with, so I can't see a darn thing I'm writing.


While I'm fixing it, here is a ghost story for your reading pleasure.


Uninvited Guest
By Kelly Carr | Photo by Roberto Westbrook : July 15, 2003 (Tue)

Blood on the floor.
A window that won't open.
Glass shards in the soil.
Karen Gregory haunts this house.
Almost 19 years after her murder, the house on the corner of 27th Avenue South and Upton Street in Gulfport has changed from white to green. The front door is in a different spot. A six-foot fence lines the yard now. An Akita barks at strangers. People either avoid it or pursue it. They imagine the inside or refuse an invitation. For some residents it is still a crime scene; for outsiders, a tourist attraction. Gregory still lingers. But for the last nine years it has been Stephanie Bartolotta's home. "No one wanted to come in," she said. "People ask: 'Is it haunted? What have you seen?'" Ten years before Bartolotta bought the house in 1994, Gregory's body was found in the hallway. After fighting an intruder from her bedroom and reaching as far as the porch, she was stabbed repeatedly. Gregory's struggle ended outside her bedroom. Her body was surrounded by bloody footprints. Neighbors heard her scream, but no one called the police. The body of Gregory, a 36-year-old graphic artist, was found almost two days later wearing a white T-shirt and black teddy. In 1986 George Lewis, a St. Petersburg firefighter who lived catty-corner from Gregory, was arrested. Lewis was convicted of first-degree murder and sexual battery. He is serving a life sentence in Tomoka Correctional Institution in Daytona Beach. When she moved into the house, Bartolotta chose Gregory's room. Neighbors told her the bed is in the same spot as the murdered woman's. At night, Bartolotta looks through the window the killer used to escape. To get to the bathroom, she turns right outside her bedroom over unfinished hardwood flooring. The path forces her steps, each day, over the spot where Gregory died. Before she bought the house, Bartolotta knew little of the murder. She was living in Indian Rocks Beach but was planning a move to Gulfport. While driving past the property on 27th Avenue South, a real estate agent
said:
"You don't want that one."
Bartolotta moved into the house on Halloween in 1994. There was a witch's hat greeting her on the counter of her new orange kitchen. Almost immediately, as hairs rose on the back of her neck and arms, she realized where she had moved. For years to come, kids skipped her house when trick-or-treating. Neighbors would dodge her parties altogether or limit themselves to the yard. "You live in a murder house, lady," people would tell her all the time. In the first years, Bartolotta would glance out her front window at people staring back. Drivers and passengers would sit in parked cars hoping for a glimpse. Some would snap a quick picture; others brought a video camera. Inside the house the layout has stayed pretty much the same. From the living room, Bartolotta stares at an oak tree in her yard and at neighbors in theirs. Across the street the Neighborhood Crime Watch sign is still visible in the yard of George Lewis' old house. Bartolotta once saw a figure standing behind her -- Was it Gregory? -- in the mirror. "Hey I'm thinking about this," she says to Gregory. She will sort through colors and furniture placement, always consulting the lingering presence that no one can see. "I do it because I want her to know I really love this house," Bartolotta said. Today with each court appeal by Lewis, the memories of the murder are sustained in the house. For Bartolotta, this 19-year-old case is very much alive. Years ago, Gulfport police dug up her yard looking for a murder weapon. Twice, she has been asked to leave her house for business involving Lewis' appeals. And she said her animals spend hours, motionless, staring at one specific wall. In the last few years, most of the traffic to Bartolotta's house has stopped. The spectators aren't as frequent. A few neighbors have decided to finally visit. Kids take her candy, although she usually has to meet them outside. "When driving by that house I personally get a feeling of remorse, loss," said Gulfport resident Jack Anderson, who lived five blocks away from the murder. "We kinda just turn away from it. The house is in a shadow all the time." For Bartolotta, the shadow cast on her house is impossible to escape. Under her oriental rug in the living room, blood spots are still visible. Are they Gregory's? Strange odors fill the rooms; footsteps are heard by her mother. Her bedroom window broke when she tried to open it. The memories in the house haunt Gulfport. It makes neighbors, those who remember Gregory's screams, cringe. Children curious. And Bartolotta still asking questions. Unable to open the front door on her wedding day seven years ago, Bartolotta was forced to remove it from its hinges. Her marriage lasted one week. Did someone not want her to go out, she wondered? Was someone telling her the decision was wrong? Was it Gregory?

Got some pictures up for you guys. They're just normal boring graveyard day pictures, it's a pretty graveyard though.

Alright, fixed the layout so it dosen't shlump over the ad blogspot sticks on my site.


I'll be posting pictures in about five minutes, and I'm starting on the sound reviews now!


For those of you Thonners out there who haven't, come by the IRC Chat Room (qubic.localirc.net #blogathon) and say hi! There are a bunch of us there already and we always need more.

Good morning boys and girls! Woohoo, another `Thon!


I'm sitting in my office because, if you read above, my laptop had a small accident while it was in the shop. So, no graveyard for us, dear bloggers, unless I manage to get my hands on a laptop sometime soon. I shall see what I can do, but I won't make any promises. So, if it dosen't go through, you can't beat me a bunch. Ok?


Until then I will be posting four pictures an hour taken from the graveyard last night, as well as reviewing my tapes and posting any sounds I find. I'll be posting some ghost stories from people I know, and ones I've collected from around the net, as well as tips and tricks on forming your own Investigation Team. I will also be giving away some fun stuff starting at noon, so make sure you check back.


I apologize for the not quite finished layout, I didn't get a whole lot of time to work on it, since I spent the last three days dealing with problem after problem with my gimmick. What isn't open will be by nine at the latest.

Alright, template for the Blogathon is up. I know it's not the best in the world but it'll do for 24 hours at least.


Here is the scoop boys and girls (for those of you joining us by linkage or webring). Due to circumstances totally beyond my control, and about a million different problems that butted their way into my Gimmick I won't be able to blog from the graveyard as planned.


The nice guys who were fixing my laptop that up and decided it was going to break on Thursday accidently had another peice break off that they weren't able to replace by closing today (Friday). Unfortunatly this left me high and dry with no way to blog from the graveyard. This is also making me feel like a total fibber that should be flogged, in the not nice way even!


If I manage to find a laptop sometime in the next 15 hours and if I can manage to find the data cable that has magically vanished (Oh yes, what a fun week it's been) I will transplant myself out to the Graveyard for the last few hours of the `Thon. I can't make any promises though.


Until then, keep an eye out on this space. I've got tons of photos and audio from the graveyard and all the links that aren't open will be soon. I've got prizes to give away and I promise that I'll try my best to figure out how to spend the dark hours in the graveyard tomorrow night attempting to convince the zombies that my brains really are tasty and worth the trouble.


Until then, I'm headed off to grab some sleep before I come back over to finish this layout up. All you fellow `Thonners, have a great night and I'll see ya in the morning.

Shoot! I had a post all written and it vanished. Damnit. It was funny.


Oh well, go here, do this. Your breasts will thank you.

Rushing out the door to get to my kids class a whole hour (well, technically an hour, normally I end up with all my kids there 30 minutes early, which makes set up impossible) early so I can get our activites for today set up. We're having a picnic with some facepainting (I need practice) and animal balloons (again, practice) and we're making ice cream because I'm crazy.


If you get there before 11, you can make ice cream too. Thank God for outside.


Anyhow, back later.

Last night I dyed Lane's hair, it turned out this extremely pretty light blond with strawberry highlights. She's not quite sure she likes it, probably from the shock of having it different. (it's normally a very dark blonde, so it's not that drastic of a change.) It looks really good on her, especally since she's fair skinned. I'd forgotten how retched that stuff smells, I remember now why I stopped dying peoples hair for them.


I was at Fred Meyers today, buying vaccum cleaner bags, and there was a man riding around the parking lot on a bike while wearing a cape. It was very very interesting. I really should start packing a digicam around with me, I see the most amusing things when I don't have it.


Hit some yard sales after leaving Freddy's, but didn't get anything fun. One was an Estate sale, I always feel rotton going to those, like I'm digging through someone's life they worked so hard to collect that's just getting tossed away. I feel like I'm committing some inexcusable violation to someones dear old mum. I always walk through them apologizing under my breath to the deceased about touching their things. I guess I do it in the hopes that if they're hovering around that disgusting pink dining room set with the matching place mats and coasters or the weird plastic dolls with crocheted dresses that I cringed at, they'll forgive me. I know they don't care (and if they do, they seriously need to get past it) but I still feel bad. It's raining now so there goes any more yard sales for the rest of today. I suppose it's for the best, I do have work to do. It's cruddy though, I don't want to work, I want to go waste all my time. Since, after all, it's my time to waste.


By the way, if you were wondering about the police. Someone in the neighborhood's house alarm goes off all the time for no reason whatsoever. So, of course the cops are extremely quick to respond to a false alarm, but give them a real situation and they fail horribly. They also find it necessary to park right in front here on the corner, or down in front of my house, which is unnerving, nobody likes to see police parked in front of their house, even when they know they've done nothing wrong. Of course I know they do this so people who ARE doing things wrong won't see them, but....still.

Thanks, by the way, it worked...I just erased the whole word. I should have known, I'm stupid.



Now it's time to go dye someone's hair. Yippy!

Whoah, screwed up layout. I don't know what's up, and I can't seem to figure it out. It's something blogger is doing.

Every day I play head owner of Jamie's Delivery Service and run errands all over town. Since it's summer, the majority of these errands have been favors for other people dropping off or picking up their children (letters, forms, stuff) from here and there. The last week or so I've been making twice daily trips out to the Knudson B&GC, because every child I know and their sixth cousin twice removed best friends sisters roomate go out there. They're pretty kewl, I went out there when I was a kid, and they've changed a whole lot. The security is tighter (no more skipping off campus to travel the neighborhood), they don't allow violent or innapropriate behavor, and they're very strict about things like theft. This is good, it makes me feel better about abandoning a giggle of teen (and pre teen) kids out there for the day.


They run feild trips every half hour, and have a slue of activities going on all the time. It's like camp, without the $600 bill attached. It's a good program and a good way to keep bored children occupied for a while so I can get work done without a bunch of I'm bored
every thirty seconds.


Anyway, every day I go over and park down the street from the Club (parking is bad, by the way. The club is situated in the middle of a neighborhood so you have those fun overly narrow neighborhood streets that residents insist on parking on insted of their driveways.) and I parked in the shade in front of someone's house. There were two girls standing outside on the sidewalk near the curb talking to a boy on a cell phone. (I have a bad habit of evesdropping. I seriously don't do it to be nosy, I just sit there and all these conversations float into the car. It isn't my fault! Becides, person to person dynamics in real life makes the best character input.) I'm assuming it was one of the girls fathers that came outside, and her friend (I'm assuming they were friends because this girl called her mom on the cell, telling the other girl she had to call her mom) said something teasingly to him about putting a shirt on, and he screamed "If you don't like it, get the fuck off my sidewalk." and stormed across the street.


I kind of thought it was sad and a bit embarassing for the poor girls, and well, stupid. Can't you think of a better way to talk to children? Not only that, but someone who isn't even your own child?


Hrrrm....there are cops outside...I'll be back later.

I currently have an extremely lengthy and frustrated gripe about this.


I'm going to save it for a post for later today though, I just thought I'd give you a heads up.

Summer means no school, no school means bored younger siblings that insist on spending the night at my house. Last night it was my sister and her friend and DDR, which ended in me getting no sleep whatsoever. Tonight it's my youngest brother and three video games he rented for the evening, which also means I won't be getting any sleep. He is one of those 'watch me play' sort of guys, lucky for me he isn't like my other two brothers, and forces me to watch them play things like wrestling.

As fun as Google is, I find it slightly disturbing that people find my blog by typing in things like 'Indian Scalpings' and 'She wears diapers'.


Nobody's been scalped here lately, and I do not.


Also, yes my archive page works but is covered in broken graphics. Yes, someday I'll fix this. Will it be today? Don't hold your breath, that cute little head of yours might explode.

For those of you coming here via Prana's Yahoo profile, howdy. If you're here from the various mailing lists and forums that have been, in part, overly abusive to Prana lately, and aren't here to be nice, don't come here looking for:


Prana. I'm not her, and as much as I wish I was late at night, the sad truth is I never will be. I'm Skyte, I'm a Sagittarius. I like to sit in one spot on the beach, and stay away from loud annoying places like clubs. Nice to meet you.


A debate. I leave that up to Pran. I have no opinions. I am a zombie sheep.


A fight. I don't have time for that waste of perfectly good air.


A place to slander Prana. It's immature and petty, and you can't do it here. Icky comments left will just be deleted, so why don't you go find a hobby insted? Something relaxing, like embrodery.


If you're NOT here because of your opinion that Prana is in the wrong (or a baby eater, whore, slut, zelot, Hitler or any of those other childish names that people stooped to a lower mindset and called her) or here with the intent of ill will, then none of that up there applies to you. :)


Leave a hi, I love comments.

I've decided that Lane has a better blog then me, and since I made both layouts, that's pretty sad. I need a new layout. Ideas?

So my sister jumped on the fast moving Vespa that is Blogging, and asked me to create her a blog. So, I did. I had some apprehensions just because I'm an older sister and I know what kind of weirdos (No, not you all. You're the other kind of weirdos, the good ones) that are lurking around in cyberspace. I'm not worried about her falling to the evils of camwhoring or anything, my sister is pretty level headed for only being thirteen, I'm just more worried about someone harassing her. Not so much stalking, seeing as how she already has a couple guys calling her every day. (eep! Of course, she can't date till she's 16, but for some reason that just makes them call more) Oh well, I'm sure it's silly to worry, after all, her computer is in my office and is only three feet away, so she can't get in too much trouble. At least not until my office at home is done....


I was supposed to go out last night. No, not on a date, on something even more fun, a BBQ. ::makes faces:: Since I don't eat enough to justify going to a function that was designed to eat at, I declined the offer of attending. It was actually kind of nice because I stayed here for most of the evening, with the doors open (and the one solitary window which opens....damn full length non-opening picture windows anyway!), and got some work I needed to do done. I also downloaded a bunch of pointless games, which led me to not finish other work I needed to get done. Now I have to go bust my tush to finish a permission slip for another feild trip before I have to submit it in an hour. Whee.

By the way, this is oddly addictive. I do not know why, maybe it's the oversized white gloves. Or the pie...


Mmm...pie.

Did I tell you all that I got OHP? Do you all care? Probably not, but let me be a boring Blogger for a bit and dribble on about stuff in my boring personal life. You know this is why I have a blog right? Yeah. It's so I can bore you to sleep and then steal your electronics and underwear.


When I went for a fun visit in the ER last month (which, for those who really want to know, was much more fun because the ER was empty, but sucks because I was too busy embarassing myself by vomiting all over it to notice) I got billed close to eleven-hundred dollars for the little feildtrip. I was at that point, insurance-less. This caused great problems in my happy little bubble of a universe. I already owe close to four thousand dollars in hospital bills (hopefully they'll forget about them?) and my credit is pretty much going to be ruined because I don't have any way to pay a zillion dollars in bills.


It wasn't that good for me, I shouldn't have to pay!


After the last ER trip the hospital sent me an Oregon Heath Plan request packet. I fill it out, send it to OHP and they approve me and prorate it back to 24 hours before the ER trip so yours truly dosen't go to jail for theft of services.


I sent it in. They approved it. They didn't prorate it. I didn't notice. I sent the bills back. I'm not covered for May.


So now, I get to give the lovely OHP people a call on Monday and try and finagle a May insurance card out of them. I really hope they do it because, I don't think I can do many more rounds of Who-Can-Screw-Jamie-Hardest.


It really, really is not all that fun.

Not only was the post gone, all the template changes I made were gone too.



Such fun!

Hrm, the entry I wrote with the new blogger is gone.


Very, very interesting.

Hrm, now blogger isn't publishing for me. I don't even get an error, just 'oops, your blog was not quite ready to be published'.


Fine, then.

This is cool. Some of what people said in this is not.


More and more, as I get better at not sacrificing my personal opinions and feelings for complete tolerance of people who are irrational, I find that I'm extremely tired of having people in my life who feel the need to down everything. Anything from projects to what clothes you're wearing, they find the negitive in everything because their own lives are so unhappy they need to make everyone around them unhappy too. People like this are misrable, and can't do anything because they're so afraid of anything working out for them. (Sucess! Friendships! Happiness! No! The pain! The devil you know is easier, I suppose)

They're absolutely horrid to be around, and it's easier to just walk the other way when you see them coming then it is to placate their negitiveness or listen to them find the fault in everything you do. However, I don't have much tolerance for it anymore, especally when it comes to me. You can down your own stuff all you want, but keep your icky bad vibes away from mine. I don't live that way, and I sure as hell don't want to.


On another note, the new blogger has vanished. I hope it comes back soon, I liked it.

They're making a Fatal Frame 2. That is, in two words from annoying, disgusting kiddie speak, freaking sweet.


Now, let's hope it dosen't go the way of other sequels and become smelly honkey donkey poo.

Happy Birthday to Kelly! (I know it's tomorrow, I just need to make sure I can post it, and I know I can today.)


I hope you have a great one, you deserve it!

Reading certain blogs by people who actually have a very well-written blog (and an asinine blog, like yours truly) makes me feel inadequate (especally since I'm a writer for gosh sakes) and also makes me wonder if I should start being more serious here.


I kin writ rally good when I wanna ma!

Then I remember it's wholly unfeasible because I'm bound by providence (or disaster perhaps?) to be completely and utterly obnoxous and slightly amusing in my blog for all enternity. Then, I give it up, until the next time I read someone elses blog.


Oh well, you didn't want me to actually grow some sort of brain anyway, did you?

Comcast sucks smarmy boot gunk.

Umhmmm

Brochures printed and folded: Over 550


Brochures left to print and fold: 548


Paper cuts: 0


Now that I've said that, the next one I fold'll cut me. You just watch.

To set the record straight, I do not have pink eye.


On Thursday evening I scratched the lower part of my retina and my eye was pretty red and horribly sore. It was not pink eye.


I do not have pink eye.


After spending three days with said eye partially shut (and avoiding eyepatches, although deep down I covet being a pirate) it's back to normal pretty much. Still a little sore (especally with any bright light) and hurts to touch it (so...I avoid that, since one shouldn't touch ones eyeball anyhow) but it's not pink eye.


So don't go believing anything anybody told you.

While I was out of town earlier this weekend, wandering around the narrow streets of Eugene and ignoring the extremly sophisticated idiot who almost hit me, and then had the nerve to give me the finger, I noticed something abandoned along side the stretch of road I was on that I should have though was rather odd but didn't because I had seen something almost exactly the same a few days before on my way downtown here at home.


It was just laying there next to the sidewalk. The time before it was on the sidewalk. Red, squishy, and abandoned. Poor little tomatoes.


After puzzling to myself while we attempted to merge into freeway traffic, just why were there tomatoes abandoned on the side of the road? Abandoned on the side of the road in two different cities almost 60 miles apart? Coming to a conclusion, I finally spoke up.


"That's the second tomato I've seen on the side of the road in the last week."


"A what?"


"A tomato. It was a slice this time, last time it was a whole tomato."


"A...tomato?"


"Uhhu. They must be reinstating their savage mass strike movement."


"Probably."


"Yeah. You should roll up your windows maybe."


I spent the rest of the afternoon humming the chorus to myself and keeping an eye peeled for out for more sightings. I haven't seen any since, which leads me to believe that now they know that I know. So, when I finally venture back from hiding after months of avoiding the real world in fear and falling behind on my work, and I'm asalted for all the crimes against tomatoes I've commited, I want to be planted with my computer, so I have time to play ketchup.

So unfortunatly I wasn't able to run a booth today during the festival parade because of certain things and people. This also means that because of the new laws passed by the council, LKP won't have any advertisment at all out during a time when 90% of the people there are our prime target audience. We can't do flyers or brochures because the city passed a law saying anything handed out during a parade is littering and harassment and we'd get fined. How do I know this? Because I'm a good girl and I asked. Did other people ask? Probably not. Will people be handing stuff out anyway? I'm sure they will. I won't though, because the laws of the universe say I'll be the one getting fined because I'm the good girl who asked.


Yeah. I am really tired of this crap.


So, insted I'm just going to go heckle. That'll make me feel better.

I need a favor from someone who has paypal and I need it no later then 4 this evening. It involves a dollar and you will get it back.


If you can help, IM me at RheaRhyolin on AIM or send me an E-mail.


I appriciate it.

I'm ok now, by the way. I still have to do a bunch of doctor stuff and schedual a surgery, but I'm not in awful horrible pain and I actually got to eat yesterday. Whee.

In a little over a month, it will be time to start signing up for the Blogathon again. This is a little surreal because I honestly feel like we just did it. Time goes by way too fast, and now it's time to think up a gimmic again. I think, insted of doing something new, I'm going to retry the thing I did the first time I ever did the Blogathon that failed horribly. Spending 24 hours in a graveyard.


And this time, I'll be more prepared.

Well, I can now stand without vomiting (or passing out for that matter) and I feel a tiny bit better, but not enough to really want to tackle going back to my daily life. I'm glad for the whole lack of heart-warming nausea, nothings more dignified then puking your guts out in the middle of a crowded doctors office. Make new friends! Impress your co-workers! Vomit in a public place! Weehaw.

As long as nothing is against my back or side, and I don't move, I feel pretty good. I guess that's something.

Not only did I have the lovely chance to be disgustingly sick the last few days, I now also have clients angry with me because I was supposed to have a website open Friday, but insted I was spending the day with blood suckers disguised as nurses. It upset me enough that I cried. Broke my damn record.

Oh! And there was a childrens expo this weekend that I didn't know about, #%@^@. Would have been perfect advertisment for LKP. My week is going so well.

I've spent the last couple days in the company of blood sucking harpooners, semi-creepy 'medical' facilites and a ton of pain. They're talking surgery now. I don't want surgery. I don't want anybody cutting me open. Regardless of how evil my organs may be and how often I curse them with language rivaled by any sailor, I prefer them inside my body where they belong.

Ok, I'm sick of this layout. No more ice. No more snow. No more rain. (Although I don't mean that, I love the rain. I love rain at night and 70 degree days, but no higher then 70's or it turns into one big Oregon Sauna) I'm taking suggestions for the next one. Perhaps something bright and colorful and fresh for spring. Or maybe something with eye-bursting neons, which I sadly must admit I've been horribly drawn to lately, it's like reliving 1986.

Maybe I'll snap some shots of my (now blooming!) apple tree and use that in a layout. Or the pretty pink tree in the front yard, whatever it is called. I don't suppose it's really called 'that pretty pink tree in that nice quiet girl across the streets front yard'. But it could be.

I love the smell of fresh cut grass in the afternoon. What about a grass layout? Hmm...that gives me an idea...

Listening to a local radio station this morning, I was slightly saddened to hear them gloating ('I thought this was wonderful' and 'this was so great') that Martin Sheen's car was reportedly vandilized because of his personal political view.

Sad. Just, really sad. People with any respect for themselves and other people don't behave in such childish manners. Oh god, will certain members of this country please grow up? You're giving the rest of us with morals and self dignity a bad name.

IMM POSTNG B/C IMM ON DA PHONA WIT FRED AND WE FOUND THIS AOL KIDEI SP3AK TRANSLA2R AND IT IS SO K3WL!111!1!1 U CAN TYPE WUT U WANT AND IT TRANSLAETS IT IN2 MORON1!11 OMG LOL WHO CUD ASK FOR ANYTHNG MORE

FRED?!?!??? OMG WTF LEAEVS IN A F3W HOURS FOR NY SO FOR SOME REASON HE F3LT LIEK CALNG MA!!!11!1! OMG Y?!!!!??? WTF LOL I DONT KNOW11!!11 OMG LOL


Rhea Rhyolin: http://ssshotaru.homestead.com/files/aolertranslator.html
Rhea Rhyolin: HI FRED
HOW R U?!??! OMG LOL
SaetanSadiablo: HI JMEI HOW R U DONG?!!!!!!! WTF )
Rhea Rhyolin: HI FRED
HOW R U?!???!!? LOL IMM FIEN THX!1!11!! OMG WTF LOL
SaetanSadiablo: LOK I CAN SPEAK LIEK A DUMBAS11!!!11
Rhea Rhyolin: U R A DUMBAS11111 IM SO PROUD!!!1!!1 LOL
SaetanSadiablo: HAH3H3 IMM SO PROUD OF U1!1!1 LOL YAR SUCH A BUT11111 WTF
SaetanSadiablo: A/S/L??!?!!? WTF LOL
SaetanSadiablo: MAN THIS HURTS MAH HAAD!!!11!! LOL THINKNG I MEAN!11!1111 OMG
Rhea Rhyolin: IM 90 A MAEL AND RILLY HAREY!!1111 OMG LOL
SaetanSadiablo: U 2?!?!?!?? OMG WTF COL1!!111! OMG LOL IMM 8 AND RILLY SMOTH!!1!1!1 OMG
Rhea Rhyolin: THIS IS HOW WA SHUD TOK AL TEH TIEM B/C R3AL CULTURAD PEOPLE R AEG TOK LIEK THIS11!1!! OMG LOL
SaetanSadiablo: YAAH!!1!1 OMG WTF W3 SHUD WE CUD B CULTURAL!!11!1!1 OMG WA CUD TOK LIEK TEH MASES!1!!1!!! OMG CONVART THEM 2 OUR CULT1!!!!! WTF LOL
Rhea Rhyolin: OUR SEXY AOL KIDEI SPAAK CULT!!!11 OMG WTF HEL YES BROTH3R!11!1! LOL
SaetanSadiablo: YAAH SIST3R11!!!!! W3 CUD OWN THIS WORLD!111!1! WTF
SaetanSadiablo: YAAH SIST3R11!!!!! W3 CUD OWN THIS WORLD!111!1! WTF
SaetanSadiablo: WEL START BY CONVERTNG GEORG3 BUSH!1!1! HIS BRANE IS LITL3 ENOUGH!!1!1! OMG WTF
SaetanSadiablo: "HI RICH!1!! HOW R U?!!!!? OMG WIL U JOIN OUR CULT??!!!!?!? WTF QUEN JMEI WANTS UR SACRIFICIAL BLO--WANTS U AS OUR ASISTANT1!11 OMG LOL"
Rhea Rhyolin: lol omg
SaetanSadiablo: rofl wtf 696969
Rhea Rhyolin: ur so fn funy
Rhea Rhyolin: lol
SaetanSadiablo: d00d! i m.
SaetanSadiablo: Saetan SaDiablo: HI RICH!1!! HOW R U?!!!!? OMG WIL U JOIN OUR CULT??!!!!?!? WTF QUEN JMEI WANTS UR SACRIFICIAL BLO--WANTS U AS OUR ASISTANT1!11 OMG LOL
Rich221976: no thanks
Rhea Rhyolin: RICH DOS3NT LOV3 US HA SHUD B SLAUGHT3RED FOR TRAASON
SaetanSadiablo: HES NO FUN1!11! OMG WTF LOL PARHAPS WA SHUD TRY STRANG3RS????? WTF
Rhea Rhyolin: lol
SaetanSadiablo: YES!1111 LOL SLAUGHTAR DA TERORIST111!1!1! OMG WTF LOL TAEK OVER HIS COUNTRY!1!1 OMG WTF MURRD3R HIM!!11 OMG
Rhea Rhyolin: 2 BAD CAUS3 H3S SO FIEN WA HAEV 2 WAES HIM
SaetanSadiablo: lol
SaetanSadiablo: HAY1!!1 OMG WTF IMM NOT 2 SUR3 WUT IMM DONG IMM BORED OUT OF MIEN1111111 OMG WTF MAH FLIGHT LEAEVS IN A COUPL3 HOURS AND IMM ALREADY FELNG DA N3RVOUSN3S AND AXCIETMENT!!1!111 OMG HEHEH!!!11!!! I CANT WATE!!!!1! IL B IN NU YORK IN LAS THAN 12 HOURS11!1111! OMG ) YAY!1!1111 OMG WTF *SIGH*

WEL IMM OF 2 BD!!!11!1 OMG LOL GODNIGHT111!! OMG
SaetanSadiablo: h1, JAMI3. hOW'5 y4 dO1n9 +Od4Y?


Ok, that's enough of that. My head is killing me. Have fun Fred! Miss you ;)

For those of you coming to this page either by searching for Hot Lake or for Old Avon Bottles (or something of that ilk)


1: Hotlake.com should be rehosted and back online by the end of the week.

2: If you want to know more about the bottles or inquire about purchasing them, E-mail me. I'm really sick of having my garage smell like a brothel.

There is something extremely wrong with burning a peanutbutter scented candle in your bathroom.

Yay! I've got cable! And I put the hub Pran and Sean sent me to good use and hooked up the HP to the cable too, sept it's being a total wench and not working right. I wish it would so I could get my files off it before I reformat it. If I can't, then I have to kiss five years worth of work files away. Five years worth of programs I've written and games I've made. It'd just be a shame. (And no, I can't burn it to a CD, or remove it and hook it up to this computer, or anything else. I've tried everything. Sending it to myself is my last resort.) Total times I've taken apart three computers in the last four days? 62. Yes, 62. I'm going to have nighmares of tiny screws for the rest of my life.

It's frustrating. However, this fast connection and my new computer do sort of make up for it. Almost.

....Comcast installs cable tomorrow, so I should be back by then. Have I suffered without net? Nah, I live perfectly fine without it. I've got so much work to do offline I shouldn't be online anyway. My online work did suffer though, and it's got me frustrated. What did I do to amuse myself without the Net to do work on? I built myself a kickass wicked computer.


I am so, so bad.

Nope, this isn't Jamie, it's just an extremely lifelike clone that was created from DNA extracted (quite painfully, let me tell you) with a bamboo skewer from under her left pinkie fingernail.


I come with a message:


No idea when I'll be back (Although I do appriciate the worried phone calls, I love you all too). From the vantage point in which I reside at this momment, it looks to be another two if not three weeks before I'll be back online. Reason being: I thought I had a faulty modem, so I replaced it. I still can't get online, I called the phone company (and to my amusement, was flirted with by the nice techie guy, because he was THAT hard up for entertainment.) and was told...


"You are being canceled because we haven't billed you for two years for internet service because we're morons."


I added that last part. Yay, free `net service! The thrill of finding this out didn't solve my net-less problem, so they tell me they'll have someone at Qwest call me about setting back up my internet service. They never did. So in the mean time, here I am with a brand new modem and no internet service. But scratch the brand new modem, because HP, in it's evil plot to have consumers buy more computers, has the sound card on the SAME BOARD as the old modem. Which I replaced, which means:


Computer - old modem = no modem or sound card and heap big naughty explitive fun


So, I run out and buy a new sound card (I needed one anyway, I justify to myself and my pocketbook) and now have a new sound card AND a new modem to install (I took the new one out to see if, in fact, the sound card was on it. And it was.).


So, incase your lost:


Computer + new modem = no sound card
So: old modem + computer - new modem = left over parts that are driving me batty
So: Lazy Jamie + Computer - old modem and sound card + new modem + new sound card = sticking the screwdriver someone's eye


But in the end this all still = no internet access.


I signed up for cable through Comcast, since it's 10 bucks more a month. I have no idea when they'll install it, but they're telling me not until sometime around the 20th.


Christ Jesus, don't you love me anymore?


Anyway...I'll be back as soon as I get cable and come back from having this screwdriver removed from my face.


Love you.

Just a note: I won't be online for a while, and I don't know when I'll be back. So take care!


Happy Late Birthday to Fred, due to circumstances I wasn't able to call you or wish you a happy birthday. I hope you had a good one.



Fred & Pran, I got the boxes and the book. Thank you.

Basic Web Design with Jamie King


Intro Class - Friday, April 18th 6:00 - 7:30 P.M

Cost: $160.00



This eighteen week course will focus on teaching you the beginnings of web design and help you achieve a finished project at the end of the classes without frying your brain. Starting with basic HTML mastery for the first eight weeks, you will learn basic code structure, concepts, tools and theories that will help you grasp and retain knowledge so you can finally build that website that you know you've always wanted. The second eight weeks will give you basic graphic design skills so you can create a custom layout for whatever project it is you're working on.



The majority of this course is contained in easy to use online lessons, which will allow you the ease of working from (or banging on) your own computer from home. A computer with internet capabilities is highly suggested.



For more information or register, please contact Jamie at 503-463-4020 or E-mail Me@kiddlets.com


You know you want to! :)

In honor of CS coming out and the fact that I don't have to buy it because someone got it for me, I am now the keeper of Ashers' Lighter.





I'd also like to add that I'm the first. Therefor the REAL keeper of his lighter. Woo baby, woo. How is that for spiffy?


I'm such a geek.


Pran? If you're still online, get on AIM!

The riviting and never ending soap that is my odd daily life continues with an all new episode. This week, we find CCD pulling a typical bureaucratic move on LKP when they find to their horror, that the Shahish iron fist world they illusion themselves with does not apply to my business. They can't touch us. They can't rule us. They can't harrass us. They don't even know how to catagorize us. The only thing they can do to us is slap us upside the head with those little clipboards they hide behind, and boy, does that freak them out.


With a slightly befuddled and perturbed tone, they leave a message on my business line: "You might have to be licensed with us. Call us, and we'll talk about your options."


How about no?


Now, the professional side of me will call them, and will explain to them, in my very nice professional Jamie voice "there are no guidelines set forth by any goverment or private entity in the state of Oregon or in the United States that can govern, oversee, (or bully for that matter) my company. And although I find this a shame, because there are no benchmarks that can help form a good quality program, it also means that I don't have to be licensed by you."


In my head, however, it will be a totally different story, in my best screeching immature six year old voice, I'll be sticking out my tongue while pulling on my ears.

"I know the OSR back and forth, I can recite it backwards standing on my head in six feet of quicksand with rabid sloths eating my toes, and guess what? You can touch me, nanny nanny boo boo! What's that? Nope, I'm not liiiiistening. La la la la la la la. I don't have to talk to you and you can't come here an-ny-more! That just chaps your ass, dosen't it? Isn't Karama a bitch? Aw, don't cry. You'll find someone else to terrorize I'm sure. You have a nice day, now!"

I've had alot of questions why I haven't posted. There are alot of reasons. Personal things going on (most personal stuff does not go here, insted it goes in my journal at home. Personal stuff dosen't go here because small-brained people get upset when I talk about situations that are going on. Because some people can't respect my views as mine (and feel I have to be 'nice' all the time and not have any negitive views) and like to try and withold me of my opinion claiming rude things and take offense or cause problems. So it's easier to keep my private thoughts private. Plus, my life is boring.), and because I haven't had anything to say, and like I've said in the past, I write for me, not for people who view this blog. I appriciate that people come here and read this, but I don't, and never have, written for or to draw an audience.


So if there is nothing here, it means I've got nothing to say. People can be angry at me for that, but that's too bad, they can go make their own blog, and post to it if they want content.


Please don't bug me about this anymore, when I post is when I post and asking me won't make it any sooner.

Happy Birthday to Sean :)

I'm going to write them an E-mail, and ask them to call it "Just Crack".


Crammed full 3 oz plastic containers protect this delicate stuff from falling all over the dirty ground. It's sweet, it's tangy, it's crunchy and it's got the weirdest texture ever. It's sort of like when you ate that freeze dried astronaut ice cream during your sixth grade solar system unit.


It's "Just Fruit" and I'm in love.


Just one of the products made by "Just Tomatos, Ect", Just Fruit Munchies are a mix of freeze dried apples, rasins, blueberries, sour cherries, mango, pineapples and blueberries and they're a better buzz then that Meth addiction you shook last year.


Today, after being too broke to feed my habbit, I bought a container of it and saddingly I've almost consumed the whole thing. Not sad because I'm a bloody pig and should be forced to eat only 1974 Weight Watcher food and sweat on a tredmill, but sad because it's almost all gone.


It's good. Go try it yourself, you'll become a mindless addict too. But before you try it, and become so overwhelmed with greed that you'd rather prick out my eyeballs with a gleefully sharpened carrot from the produce department then share, buy me some more too.

Thanks to Kelly, for reaffirming my opinion that the American goverment is run by bå morons.


That was for you Kel, it's pronounced 'baw' and it means foolish. ;)

I have an unhealthy obsession with "Brown".


Although it may sound this way, this isn't a plea for a free one way ticket to a snazzy drug rehab program where I can hob with the stars. Nor do I like to dress up in frocks that resemble tree bark from around the world.


I'm talkin' about the UPS man, man.


Not the men themselves (although the disgusting seriously girly side of me enjoys that added bonus of cute guys in pants. Not in short shorts, there is something very wrong about a guy in short shorts.). It's not even the big roaring trucks (Machines just don't do it for me, unless they can render three seperate 3D models in under five minutes and run six other programs in the background.), it's the stuff.


Oh lord, my kingdom for a box.


The Gods are tempting me. Once again they're using me for their odd amusment. Over the past month I have seen not one, not two, but six unattended UPS (or Fed Ex, I don't discriminate) trucks. Left all alone on a corner or in a parking lot, side of the truck gaping open where the door should be, calling me to come inside and rip it off.


I'm sort of like a oversexed guy who's been locked in a dark closet with nothing but his hand for ten years and gets rescued by like minded nymphos fresh from the local gymnasium. Boxes. They butter my muffin. Crisp my cracker. Chew my gumball. Yeah, you get the point.


It's so very upsetting too, when the nasty cricket in my head kicks in and sings me out of causing a high speed police chase while littering the freeway with packing material.

As James so nicely pointed out, blogspot seems to have two ads at the top of it now. Hopefully that's an error somewhere, and not something new and fixed.

Spent my few free hours the last couple of days working on a blog layout. No, it wasn't mine. It was Prana's, I haven't had time to finish my new one yet. Kins mentioned that she wanted one, so as soon as I can pin her down I'll see what she wants. (Knowing my luck, something involving naked people doing naughty naked things.) Everybody gets one freebie (just as long as it's not involving a dumpster or a seedy hotel room) and then you've got to pay me. I'm cheap, but I'm not that cheap.


LKP now has it's first offical School Picture Day coming up. Fun for the kids, bad for the Jamie. I've been secretly creating a intricate paper bag mask to wear when they do the class picture. I'm trying to figure out a good story to convince everyone that I really was born wearing a paper bag, and since I've had it on my entire life, removing it would prove to be fatal for me. In fact, I don't even have a face anymore because the rough reycled paper has over the years molded to my head and become my face. I'm really Paper Bag Woman, Jamie is just my secret identity. With these fake no-lens glasses, I fooled them all.


Back me up on this, would you?

I slashed and hacked about 16 classes and workshops (well, cut 9, moved the rest to Summer Term) from March and about 10 from April. This is so very nice. It means I can have Thursdays off again. At least for now anyway.

What's so damn hard about just being honest with me?

I just had a totally long (but fun) workshop. This workshop was the only non-PDR workshop I have schedualed for the next three months (that I know of). Today, yours truly made a great big mess like the great big dorky kid I am, because today, I made soap. Soap soap soap! Whee!


Yep, I spent the last five hours with ten other people crammed in the kitchen of the H.O.M.E center, being dizzy from the essental oil fumes, making hand crafted hot-cast soap.


It was so kewl.


I've always wanted to make soap, but because of time and not really knowing how to go about it, I never did. April (the lady who ran the workshop) has her own soap making company, so it was really neat to see how quickly she could churn out ten pounds of soap without burning her hands down to the bone.

We made coconut oil lavender soap (with dried lavender and lavender oil in it, smells great, annoys the holy hell out of my hands..lol), and since it was the hot process we had to use lye (all soap is made using lye, that's how glycerine is made, so don't let anyone tell you any different. That dosen't mean all soap has lye in it. I'm going to ask her to do a cold soap class, because I'd like to be able to do soap with crap embedded in it) and lucky me, my hands are evil, and plot ways to pain me.

Since you're not supposed to touch the soap with bare skin for four weeks until the lye is completely gone, everything is done with rubber gloves or through a mold. My hands are so wicked that even through the soap mold (a tupperware container..lol) they got irritated. I've had to wash them in vinagar and they're still stinging. That's another reason I've stayed away from making soap (and candles too), my hands get so easily upset that it just makes it frustrating.


It has to cure for four weeks, so it can't be used until then (I can cut it tonight though) but I have enough for probably six small bars of soap. I can't use it because of my hands (it's too strong), but I am willing to pimp my love-a-lee smelling soap off on anyone who wants a bar (For the low, easy one time payment of nothing! That's right! Absolutely zilch, zip and nada. And if you act now, we'll throw in this free manila envelope!) when touching them won't give you a fun trip to the burn ward.

By the way, has anyone seen Melissa? I haven't for days. If you catch her online, tell her to stick around.


Edit: Nevermind, I found her. She was hiding under the bed again. Silly Mellie.

When little children grow into adults, do they finally develop good sense and shed their need to stuff parts of their feet into their mouth, no matter how dirty or smelly? Or can they just not bend their legs that way anymore?


Sadly, these are the kind of questions they don't answer in ECE classes.

When we last left yours truly, she was scrambling like rat on fire to finish her homework for her follow up meeting.


I got most of it done (save 11 pages) and our follow up people were late (30 minutes) which was ok but frustrating because there was a CORE class tonight. I'm not going though, so all is good.


So I thought.


The follow up goes peachy until the nice ladies tell me I'm missing not one (the 11 pages) but three assignments. Two of which I didn't even know about.


AAAAIIIIII.


Also not there was my extra hour work, which I did but so nicely forgot to print off, because I'm stupid like that.


So, they gave me all the hours (6, which was quite nice of them) with of a promise to send all the work into them Monday. Yay, more work.


So now, I have to finish up this work this weekend, do all the printing I can while borrowing this printer, fix my lovely Gram's weird phone problem (She has no dial tone on any line, but still has her DSL working. The phone company is spying again), clean her house and buy a new purse, I broke mine on the way to the follow up.


I'm sad, and would wear all black in mourning, but my purse was black and I'd just rather not have the bittersweet memories.

Once again my blog is refusing to update. Maybe it's a sign from the Almighty above.


The earth quakes with tremors and the clouds in the sky above part. A brilliant ray of holy sunlight breaks through and illuminates the keyboard through the window, and an angelic chorus sings unseen in the background.


Then, the land is silent and a deep booming voice is heard, causing unslightly goosepimples to cover all the flesh of the land and eyes to tear with its radiating love.


God: "Jamie! Get your damniable hands off that keyboard and stop flooding the internet with your useless mental garbage! Damn me! You are such a bother!"



Pathetic Whelp Named Jamie: Erm? God? Erm..But...but...


All That Is Devine: "NOW WOMAN! Don't make me come down there and do things of biblical preportions to your worthless human ass!"


Unworthy: Fine, fine. Geesh...God's these days, you think they created the world or something. Stu...::grumble grumble::


Mister Man Himself: "What was that?"


Me: Nothing...I didn't say anything. Sorry God. Won't happen again. Honest.


God: "That's what I thought."

I really do want to start college classes again, but between all the classes I'm already taking (PDR classes, which count to college credits but are not college classes.) and all the work I'm doing (All Hail The Queen Of Slaves!), and my lack of funding. I highly doubt I'll get to go until June.

And, no, I can't get a grant or a loan, I've been trying for years. I can't, it's a curse. The people at the loan department just slink around in their dark corners with weird white theatrical make-up on, waiting for my fat manila envelope to arrive. Then, when it does, they reach deep into the aquarium swimming to the brim with irregularly folded slips of paper (paper they've been cutting up and writing on since the last time they recieved a letter from me.) and they pluck one out with a cackle, choosing which deliciously cruel and outlandish denial I'll be receving in my mailbox this time. They don't even bother to open up my letter and read my pathetic and snivvling cries for money anymore, they just see it's got my return address on it and play a rousing round of Screw-A-Jamie. What's worse? It's not even the fun kinda screwin'.


Yes, this is pouting. Attractive iddnit?


So, until then, I'm stuck going to a million and a half seminars and workshops. These include the follow up workshop I have today, which has a good 20 pages of homework due for it. Joy. Due at 3:30. Double J-O-Y. Have I done any?


C'mon now, you've been reading my blog for how long? You should know me by now.


......Of course I haven't.


So, here I am, hanging out in someone elses cold house while they're out of town because their printer works (No, I didn't do a B&E, I've got a key. Woo..that rhymed. Graduate me now! I'm a goshdiddlydarn genius!), drawing a layout of a room while wondering where the overview for my philosophy paper went to. Oh, and talking to myself. I swear, if I didn't find it all so darn amusing, I'd be worried.


3 hours and 49 minutes to go.

It's almost time for a new layout (alright, no it isn't, but my disgusting need to make layouts is taking over again. I'd ask for help to slay it, but to tell you the truth, I sort of like my weird neurosis. Ah, so there.) and I've got a really good idea for a quick, functional, and fun one. Unfortunatly, my idea might offend a few people.


Oh, the choices.


It's just all so very sad.

When I'm being a good girl, which is very rare if you're wondering, I write every morning. Sometimes it's a few pages on a novel, sometimes it's just a short story, sometimes it's babble, most of the time it's crap, but I do write, and that's all that matters.


The majority of the time I do short stories (it's better to not force yourself to write on a project unless you've made time just for that, otherwise just let whatever's going to go, go) based on a starter sentance.


Yesterday, I mentioned it to Fred (who's an amazing writer), and he gave me a sentance to work from. He wrote a great little peice off of it (post it to your blog, man) and I wrote crap.


But that's ok.


Digital Spam which should open by the end of next week, is a writing site that I've been wanting to start for over a year now. I long for a writing group, but just haven't found one locally that I click with. Digital Spam will be an online writing group, we'll have resources, support, activities and lots of writing. It should be fun.


Until then however, I'm stuck doing starter sentance stories by myself. Want to do it too? Here's your sentance for today:


I was sure, I remembered quite a bit later, that it had somehow moved since the last time I saw it.

There was a town. It was a while ago, and I'm sure it's still there, if you want to go find it. It might have died by now, turning into one more lost stretch of gloomy buildings that children swear are haunted. A dusty little hole-in-the-wall place in the Dead Zone of Oregon thats main attraction was the huge log and mud general store that sported a ten point rack of antlers from some long forgotten Elk over it's front door. The Dead Zone (as I named it) is a 200 mile stretch of amazing high desert landscape that runs from the Eastern corner of the state bordering Washington all the way down to California. To normal people this is 'Eastern Oregon', or 'Southern Oregon' depending on where your feet have taken you, but to me, it's a Dead Zone.


It's not dead in a depressed macabre teenager sort of way, but in a quiet, endless sort of way. It's brown, and green, and the wind can howl or do nothing at all. It's hot and dirty and cold and soothing. It stretches on forever and looks alot like a sunset would, if a sunset was land. It's like walking through an automatic door to a lush air-conditioned grocery store on a hundred degree day, passing through the Gorge into the Dead Zone. You go from endless trees spotted mountians to endless sagebrush living on painted rock that conjours up images of stagecoaches and indians in a few blinks. It's like magic, sometimes.


You can go for miles, from towns like that one, bordering on the edge of becoming ghosts, and not find anyone or anything but chewing cows and cattle fences. It took ages to get there, over potted roads that were obscured in either direction by the dust we churned up and the only thing to look at was the browning sagebrush. We traveled in a bus you know, a converted one, it amuses me as much as it did then now. The town was called Fossil, one of the most extraordinary ironies I've ever encountered in my life. It was one too, an aged fossil, sporting not much more then the store. There was a small school, abandoned thanks to the summer months, a car repair shop (Something very familiar in that country. Breakdowns in the Dead Zone can lead to very unhappy adventures.) and the fairgrounds.


That's why we were there.


Rodeos are a common summer occurance in the Dead Zone. Most of the bodies that inhabit it are Ranchers, or the tired low men who work for the railroad. In a world where you travel two hours in one direction to reach a town slightly bigger then your own to watch a movie, you have to have something for entertainment. I have millions of memories from my life and the things I've done, and the ones from that single hot summer in the Dead Zone are some of the sharpest. I spent lots of summers there, some of them in a house, some of them traveling, but there was just something about that summer that stands out. I think maybe, if I ponder at it, it was because of the people. After a long time, I've found that it's the people I remember the most, and there were so many people that summer....


The Dead Zone is very different then the Valley. The Valley is lush, green, wet, busy. Cities and people and noise somehow manage to blend perfectly with the forest and mountains and water. The Dead Zone is the other end of that pole, it's like going backwards. Not in society or how civilized the people who live there are, but in thoughts. Sometimes tt's hard, and dirty, and rough. It's spending hours herding cattle or riding rails, spending days away from your family and traviling hours just to get anywhere. It's 120 degree days and not being able to move. Sometimes it's like music though, in hills and the wind. You just slow down, out there, at least that's how it is for me.


We sold jewelry at fairs, rodeos, festivals. We got it from a dealer in Portland who sells to nation wide 'fine department stores'. His name was Veranazan, and although I never met him, I did love his warehouse. The Rodeo, I don't even remember the name of it, had clogged the little town with more traffic then it had probably seen in decades. It was a trip, in these little towns, watching them pop under the hot sun with hot people waiting for the dust to fly. It was a freedom other kids my age didn't have, these little towns, being able to go anywhere and do anything and not have anyone worry about where I was or who I was with. The fact that there was, in reality, noplace to go didn't stop me from making a place to go.


It was amazing, the change that took over during the infest of people. Booths lined (all four!) of the towns streets, banners waving, people shouting. The fairground would be jumping with Cowboys and Trainers, with Ranchers stowing their animals for the shows, it's like a sea of trailers and dirty pickups.


You'd make the rounds first, check out the other sellers, the layout of the town, who's going to be where and who you know. It's like a family, this crowd that travels from little place to little place, you find Buddies, you have to, because it's lonely life. It's what you look forward to the most, those few days after you've set up and done your booth duity when you can go act your age with other kids who are doing the same thing you are and understand. They made the whole trip to that overlooked little town, those Buddies.


You stay out late with them, drink bad coffee just to drink coffee, purchace bad trinkets. You run seller duity at each others booths, so you can have the night off together. You play cops and robbers in the schoolyard, and buy junkfood with the gift certificate someone won in the pie eating contest. You root on the cowboys, flinch when they fall, and stalk the one that has the name of your brother for an autograph. You play, and you have to play hard, because in a few days you'll have to exchange addresses with your new (or newly refound) Buddies and pack it up because it's time to move on. You cling to a hope that somehow you'll track of them, and knowing like most seller-formed friendships, you most likely won't. You'll travel to the next Rodeo, watch the next magical transformation of a sleepy desert town, find the next buddy to play with and maybe this time insted of watching Cowboys you'll swim, or borrow a bike. But, like the others, you'll lose track, and with time all those friendships will color with a form of nolstalgia.

Every now and then, when the sun is just right in the sky and makes the shadows of the trees in my yard look like desolate tumbleweeds, I wonder what ever happened to the one girl who was with when, or the one guy I did that with that one time, and if they ever forgot that little town called Fossil and the Rodeo that went there once.

It was a lovely day at the beach. Very little cloud cover and nice and sunny. It was a little windy, but that's a given on the beach any time of the year, especally in February.


I should go more often.

I'm playing hooky. I'm going to the beach. Right this second.


Yay!

Saetan SaDiablo: 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35, 35 more daaaaaaaays!

Rhea Rhyolin: Until?

Rhea Rhyolin: ::grin::

Saetan SaDiablo: 29th of March

Saetan SaDiablo: duh

Rhea Rhyolin: ::Stares at the sky:: And that is?

Saetan SaDiablo: My christening.

Rhea Rhyolin: ::laugh::

Rhea Rhyolin: And all the water turned to oil and burrrrrned

Saetan SaDiablo: ::laughs::

Rhea Rhyolin: What do you want for your birthday anyhow?

Saetan SaDiablo: Nothing you can afford.

Saetan SaDiablo: Nothing Rich can afford either.

Saetan SaDiablo: Hell, his mom's got over 30K in the bank, nothing she can afford.

Saetan SaDiablo: ::wants a house::

Rhea Rhyolin: Aw..you'll get a house someday

Rhea Rhyolin: I'll buy you one when I'm rich

Saetan SaDiablo: yay

Rhea Rhyolin: Until then you'll have to be happy with Macaroni birthday cards and cheap candy

Saetan SaDiablo: candy works then



There you have it, for those of you who know him, Fred only wants cheap candy for his birthday, so don't go getting him anything else. Because, I have a plan.


(There is an evil type laugh that should be inserted right here.)

Eep. I'm sorry! I guess I should have clarified what exactly I wanted people to test. (Thanks Rebecca)


IF is Interactive Fiction, a text based game. (Think Zork) The game is controlled with simple commands, like directions or actions ('north' to move north, or 'get book' to get the book) it's not hard to get the hang of at all, it just requires reading. (Some people aren't real big on reading in games. ::grin:: )


Most IF's are completely puzzle based, and totally plot driven. It's rare you ever find an IF that the only way to win is kill everything in the game off. So if you're not real big on puzzles, then you probably wouldn't be really big on the game. (Although I would like input from people who like all types of games.) If you're wondering, the type of puzzles mine contains are simple situation solving puzzles. (I.E.: How to fix the radio so you can hear the weather without waking everyone else in the room up.)


If you're interested, I'm going to be sending the game out along with some other information probably by tomorrow evening.

I'm a druggie, and it's all Michael's fault.

Have an option for a third job, going to go talk to someone about it tonight. I don't want to get into details, details = jinx. Cross your fingers for me, I need the money.



Now, off to eat my Tofu.

:)

Happy Birthday to Laura (My grammie) who dosen't read this blog, but needs a Happy Birthday just the same.


Still in need of beta testers. Come on guys, I don't ask for much.

I'm looking for beta testers that are external from the IF community for testing a current Interactive Fiction project (using Adrift. Yes, it's a game.). This project is slotted for submission in a competition that has a deadline of the 28th of this month. That means I need testers right this second that:



o Has the time to test anywhere from two to six (it most likely won't go over three) versions of the same game a handful of times and not hate me afterward.


o Can give me thorough and constructive feedback from the first to the last test.


o Can submit the test reports back to me ASAP so I can implement any changes.



I'm looking for all the testers I can get, however for the first version of the game I only need two more. (Anyone else who wants to test will get the second version, unless you seriously want the first version.) I'll be accepting people for testing for the next week. If you're interested, and I would greatly appriciate it, drop me a note and I'll get the information you'll need back to you.


Muah.

Hrm. Blogger isn't working right (Hopefully not a foreshadowing of things to come ::grin:: ) and has refused to publish or post anything I've written in the last four days, in fact it's vanished completely.


It might have just been trash, but I was attached to that trash.

Oh yeah, happy mushy folded cardboard giving corporate backed non-denominational holiday.


Have a good one, ok?

Kins (Ally, one of my very very very best friends, the one who I flew to the hot sticky town of Memphis for.) finally got a computer after almost three years yesterday and a phone line at home. Which means she can finally be online to gab, and we don't have to play phone tag (although, the phone is fun, and we talk for hours and hours...) and we don't have to go sometimes weeks on end without talking goss...er...talking.


::does the super happy dance::


I'm happy. Damn I missed her.

Last night's book was T.J. MacGregor's Out Of Sight. Starting off with two characters, Logan and Tyler, as their sitting in a room located on an abandoned air base that contains a device ment to make things invisible (what they call shrouding) as test subjects for the goverment. When the first test with human subjects goes bad, Logan flees, leaving Tyler behind.


So far so good.


The book bumps you ahead three years, where we meet the Townsends, going on a camping trip in the Everglades, while there, they wander into a test site the scientists have made to test the shrouding and it's effects. Then we bump back to Logan, Logan is still invisible and has no firm proof Tyler (Who she believes never escaped) is still alive. So, she decides to go back to the air base and find solid (no pun intended) evidence that Tyler is alive, and where he is. In the process, she screws some stuff up, and inadvertently causes it so the Townsends end up invisable too (along with a Dog named Dog, who's been a target of shrouding experiments for quite a while).


Oops.


So, the plot moves along, and now everyone is being chased around by the goverment. Which always happens (never to me, thank goodness). I'm not going to go into any more detail there, because I'd hate to ruin anyones book for them. If you want my personal opinion (if you don't, you should seriously take a second look at the site your on, but I know you secretly do) I've got to say that all it all it was a fun book. Cute plot, great characters, good writing. My only gripes are it was too short, the author deffinatly could have put more content into the book, and it cut off without letting us know what happened to certain characters (No, I won't tell you) which upset me because I wanted to know. (and pout and two and three and four) However, the lovely author makes up for that by not killing off Dog. Authors who kill animal characters lose all their points.


Remember that.


All in all, this one gathers three Ducky Wuckys.



Next book is Bentley Little - The Return of which I have only read the first chapter but already have already found it quite interesting. I think it was the carcass that did it. I've never read anything by this author, so it'll be interesting to see if it's any good.


Yay. I love books.

I've changed it again. "Student Enrollment Consultation". Unfortunatly big, flashy, impressive, and important names I make up for these things because I have nothing better to do don't stop people from standing you up during one.


Rude. Rude I tell you.


If you were wondering (and I know you were salavating with excitment over it) the workshop was incredablly boring and left me not only feeling very wearied it left it's mark so the dull throbbing could linger on and on in the form of a four inch stack of homework.


And a resounding 'yippy skippy' was wailed by all.

I've decided to change 'Student Interview' to 'Student Consultation' because it sounds more professional. I know you marvel at my wonderful talent for making things sound more important then they really are. Honestly, sometimes it astounds me too.

I read disgustingly fast (so I've been told) my current personal record is ten 300+ page books in a 16 hour period. (Yes, I really did it, and yes, I remember what I read.) Lately I haven't been able to read as much as I like to, so I got myself some books (a few from the library in my garage, remind me to take pictures of it to post in here...one I bought myself, because I deserved a book) and I've decided to try and read a book (or at least half) every evening to give myself some wind down time. My life is pretty hectic, I go home, grab a few hours sleep and go straight back to work or someplace else when I wake up, all this rushings really starting to frazzle me. So, reading is my current solution (along with writing, and picking out dollhouse paint for the dollhouses living room which is currently a weird yellow color. I was so excited, Fred Myers sells these little pouches of sample paint that's perfect for one room in a dollhouse and they're a million times cheaper then buying a quart of paint or dollhouse paint from a minatures store. I'm a geek, you should know this by now. I didn't buy any though, I'm broke)


Last night I read Four Blind Mice by James Patterson. I started reading James Pattersons books just before 'Kiss The Girls' made it as a movie. He's a good writer and his books are alot of fun, plus his main character (Detective Alex Cross) isn't inflicted with a Mary Sue complex like some mystery/suspense writer characters are. That wins points. This one wasn't as good as some I've read, but it wasn't bad either. I'll give it two and a half ducky wuckys out of five. (I'm sure nobody cares, but here it is anyway)


It's a pretty good read, but unless your a diehard fan (or like hardbacks) I'd wait for the paperback. Or, you can just borrow mine.

I'm sorry James :( ::hugs:: I love you hon! If you need anything let me know. (Of course you won't though, cause Kel'll take good care of you ;) )

Today my AM class is going to be making 'mailboxes' for their Valentines Party on Friday (yes, you're invited, you have to bring a snack though. Make sure it's store bought and pre-packaged, because we all know you want to slip us something in our cupcakes.), I enjoyed doing that in school, it was always alot of fun. I can remember being more happy about making (more happy...aaai!) the mailboxes then actually opening the Valentines. Especally since nobody was ever creative with their Valentines. It was very sad...I did however develop a sick love for conversation hearts in Grade School, so I guess it wasn't all that sad. Well...maybe it was.

After class I have to run back here and finish the curriculum for the month, because I'm lazy (well, more overworked then lazy) and haven't finished it yet. I'm going to be so happy when we get enough students to hire aides and I can start doing the work of one person insted of five. Then I have to run back to school for a student interview (cross those cyber-piggies ok? We need another student something awful.) which hopefully goes well. It's someone looking to enroll their child in a class that's currently not open, so we'll probably get to open another class. Yehaw.

I have to go straight from there to a (coughboringcough) workshop which will include four hours of lecture and two plus hours of 'homework'. They're getting really sick about this 'homework' stuff. There was one session of workshops I was going to do, that ended up being 7 credit hours total, but had you doing about 20 hours of homework along with six classes. I understand they want people to work for their hours, but geesh, some of the stuff they had the poor people doing was insane. (The class was on developing themes in early childhood education, and the focus theme was farm theme, and they had to develop stuff like a complete boardgame, write a 20 page book and illustrate it, blah. It was just bogus, no teacher has the time to create things like books and games from scratch for each unit, that's what people write resource books for.)


I'm all for developing your curriculum just for your class, it's what I do for LKP, but I don't come up with every single thing off the top of my head. I do, however, make most of the worksheets and things because I can rarely find anything that fits to exactly what we're doing. I don't write books or create complete board games from scratch. There is just no way...

I'm so sick of this sick thing. I'd banish food all together but my body seems to think it can't survive without all the oh-so-tasty heinous substances.