Oh I love that contest. Such gems.
Barb, I think Usuva and Zhulin may have been physically the most ideally-matched pair ever to skate. Dance. Not pairs. You know, right? Yes, I know he was a beast and deserves all manner of ill things, but together on the ice they were just sheer magic, one single line, always. May he rot.
Jess, I hope the rest of the hives have disappeared. Stress can do really odd things to a body.
And now I must go in search of moar coffffeeeee.
I've given up trying not to wear black and black to work. I hope they match well enough.
Barb, I think Usuva and Zhulin may have been physically the most ideally-matched pair ever to skate. Dance. Not pairs. You know, right? Yes, I know he was a beast and deserves all manner of ill things, but together on the ice they were just sheer magic, one single line, always. May he rot.
Yep-- absotively. I'm basing the ex-husband in my skating story on Sasha Zhulin. The rat bastard.
My new favorite blog.
I like that blog too!
The hivemind may need a couple of weeks, but eventually it great minds think alike.
Creeping slowly over the hill, the sun seemed to catch the small village nestled in the valley by surprise, which is a bit unusual really, as you'd think that something with a diameter of 865,000 miles and a surface temperature of 5780 degrees Kelvin, and which is more normally seen from 93,000,000 miles away, wouldn't be able to creep anywhere, let alone catch anything by surprise.
Hee.
Of course, it creates the image of that little (hey, in astronomic terms it is not that big) sun trying to go all "boo!" from behind a wall, stepping all a-character-from-a-cartoon-ish quietly up until it gets there, and disappointed when all the people not in village say "made you look" because they already saw it.
There are awesome clouds here, puffy cotton behind dark spiderwebs.
There are awesome clouds here, puffy cotton behind dark spiderwebs.
I love it when the sky actually has depth (or height, I guess) - when it's possible to see that above the clouds there's not just that blue empty whatever, but rather a whole lotta space, thanks to the other clouds that have enough room to roam there, too.
Winners of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest of bad writing: [link]
"Die, commie pigs!" grunted Sergeant "Rocky" Steele through his cigar stub as he machine-gunned the North Korean farm animals.
Seriously? Because that sentence is fucking HILARIOUS. (Okay, to me, at least.) (Seriously.)
Sadly the sky is now just slate gray. Booooooring.
Well, as they say, the sky is always grayest just before it turns a different shade of gray....