Reviews for The Guesstimate Game
Unknowning chapter 2 . 9/8/2007
I love this story. The main character is a lot like me, I can relate to her. :]
Unknowning chapter 1 . 9/8/2007
I really like this story. It's very unique, I've never read/heard of a story like this. I'm reading on and adding it to my favorites :]
When Nudity Ruled The World chapter 3 . 7/9/2007
I've come to accept the fact that deep down inside, I am smarter than average, but when it comes to testing, I am shit. Yes. Shit. I'm pathetic when I'm testing, so I guess I'm gonna go to a jr. college first, prove that I am smart on some substantial level, and then go to a 4-yr college and put myself into a shitload of debt. Oh, and I've decided to screw Anthroplogy and go into Optometry because I can say 'Now, which is better? One or two? Three or four?'. Yeah. I hate the medical field, but I guess life isn't supposed to be a field full of posies. Everyone hates their job, so why don't I join the forces of millions. Ya know, jump on the bandwagon. Then set it alight.

Actually, I might go into agriculture. I find that I enjoy that way more than I ever have. It's weird. I never thought I'd be one up for farming and such, but that's the only type of work I don't mind. It's hard, but I don't hate it, and when I'm working on a farm, I'm never complaining. It's crazy.

Admit to being a weeny? Okay. I admit it. I am a weeny. 'Cept I'm not an Oscar Meyer weeny. I'm a turkey weeny 'coz beef is overrated. Actually, I'm just too lazy to add Carnal Cove to my favorites, and my true favorites are never added. I just add stuff I find funny and junk. Lol. I saw the second review, that if read between the lines, said, 'WTF do you want bitch? I added your story. Isn't that a fucking enough?'

Oh god. I went off on that reviewer because she sent me a PM saying, 'Oh, you're a girl, so I take back everything I said.' I was like, 'WTF bitch? Why should the gender matter? It's fucking fiction. What part of FICTION don't you understand? You hypocritcal little bitch.' Wasn't in those exact words, but I was thinking it.

Yeah, the guy was Washington, but I don't like it quite that much. But I do love the title, so I'm gonna redo it all because I think it has potential. I mean, THE MALE CODE OF ROMANCE. How awesome does that sound? Oh, and the brother is Columbus, as in Mister I'm A Crazy Bastard Christopher Columbus. But I don't think this'll be the nerd wars. I'll make a different story for nerd wars because I just love the title and am forcing myself to write a new story.

You're tired? I'm fucking tired. I haven't been home for 8 days. I went to work today, and I about drowned because Judy made me swim all of my laps and was like 'Oh boo hoo, you had a tuff weekend. Get over yourself.' Then, when I came off of my stand, in for the break, she's all like 'Oh, wow, Rand, you really do look like you're about to drop dead.' I felt like yelling, 'Damn right you fucking bitch.'

Oh, I pissed off a lot of people at work for something way juevenile. They kept us out there way long in the sun, so when we (Jamiee, Kyler, and Myself) came in, we left them out for just as long, and they got all pissy and wouldn't help us clean. I told them if they were going to throw a fucking bitch fit, they could go home early and I'd be more than happy to clean the damn locker rooms. My boss, Chad, was all like 'Oh no, this is a family affair. They'll stay.' Well, they stayed, but didn't do a damn bit of cleaning, and they got paid extra. Fuck, that's why I hate women. Damn group of whores and bitches.

Yeah, I hate shopping. I do it twice a year, and it lasts for like a day, so I'm way tired afterwards. I only enjoy shoe shopping because it's very hard for a shoe to dissapoint the wearer unless it's too narrow or short.

Perfectionist? What kind of crack are you on? I write something and upload it. I never re-read it. Or else I think it's complete shit and rewrite the whole damn thing. That's my thing. Fuck the errors, upload the damn piece.

I have the next 3 days off because my boss is a bitch, so I can work on Washington and possibly our sadistic story. I don't remember all of the names. All I remember is July, Solstice, and we didn't have a hot male. I think we should use Venice as a name because it's cool. She can have her head beaten in by a high heel. Oh, and we liked the names Dalton, Falcon, and Hartley, so we can use them if we want.

For a plot, I was thinking about them all having to go to a psychiatrist for their mental problems, only the psychiatrist is the crazy mofo, and well, that's it, but the killer needs to be a hot, young guy. You said something about the story being 'Cry wolf' only better. Don't know what that meant, cept, if you're talking about the boy who cried wolf.

I'm trying to think of a cool idea, but damn, I don't know. We could make it sci-fi. LMAO. Space hopping. Or we could do a modern day slave-trade, and the people have been sold as slaves whose sole purpose is to die while they train people to hunt them down and such, only they don't know it, and the govt or something is funding it. Like, the killer could be a pretend slave who infiltrated the group, only there can be more than one killer, so it's all confusing, but the major turn will be the pseudo-slave.

So, that's my idea. My internet is down, so that's partly why this is so long. I have nothing better to do.

Other than that, I am idea-obsolete. Crazy thing. Let me see if I can write anything slightly sadistic, and maybe that'll spur our imagination.

I've got a new song lyric for the freaks. Yeah. I was talking to my friend about gangster music. here's the line: shake yo ass bitch, i wanna grind wit u

I think it has potential. What do you think?
moonshiner flipping a chapter 2 . 6/28/2007
Kay, so remember the donkey story I have on my other account that's been neglected for like a year? Well, I got bored around thirty minutes ago, so I started the first chapter for it. I have no idea where it's going, but as I said, I was bored.

So, I wrote this little bit, but personally, I think there's way too much detail and it boggs what I have written down, a lot. But here it is because you're my guinea pig. Yeah, you read the shit first. How does that make you feel?

['Pick up the phone, bitch,' continuously blared in my ear, contributing to my already throbbing head, courtesy of last night's alcohol. Letting out a groan, I stifled the noise by burying my head into a flannel pillow that smelled strongly of whiskey, cologne, and sex. The combination, itself, was intoxicating enough alone, but with the stale smell of cigarettes that polluted the air, I felt as if I were back at Manhattan's party, making a complete ass out of myself.

Doctor T's voice rang loudly through the room once again, easily penetrating the depths of the feather pillow. "Somebody turn it off," I mumbled. It came out as a whine, but nonetheless, I felt the springs of the mattress shift, and the blaring of the word 'bitch' was cut off halfway through. In satisfaction, I moaned into the pillow, and a heavy body dropped next to mine, stealing the pillow out from underneath my head.

I didn't put up an argument, already feeling sleep begin to claim me. Automatically, my body shifted closer to source of warmth, and I grabbed a fistful of the shirt attached to the long, lean body.

When I reawoke, the symptoms of my hangover weren't as prominent, and I was alone in the king-size bed, the covers and majority of pillows discarded on the floor. Several condom wrappers littered the floor, while the used condoms, much to my surprise, managed to make it in the stainless steel trashcan, next to the bed. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and checked the missed calls: Dad, Dad, Cruise, and Drew.

My new voice mail messages were left untouched, the material was always the same. They always began with the formal introduction before quickly turning into a bitch fest until the real assault began, demanding to know why I wasn't answering my phone, even if it was three thirty in the morning. Then comes the apologies, and the suggestion for me to return the call.

Sifting threw the piles of beddings on the floor, I attempted to find my garments from the night before. "Fuck," I muttered upon finding my red halter. It had a large split down the back. Taking it to a tailor wouldn't even be worth it, I decided before tossing it into the trashcan with the condoms. My mini skirt made it through the night in one piece, so I slipped it on and went through my one night stand's closet in search of a t-shirt.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding when all the shirts in the decent sized closet turned out to be somewhat masculine. Immediately when I came across a pink and white striped, button up shirt, I slipped it on.

Once fully dressed, I ventured outside of the bedroom. The rest of the rooms that I passed were empty, including the bathroom, living room, and kitchen. Searching out my host wasn't on the top of my agenda as I left the apartment without so much as a 'Goodbye, thanks for the fuck' note.]

And that's all I have because I'm tired writing and it's 10:30, so I figure that's enough. Oh, and I felt extremely inspirational today. I wrote another one-shot, wrote like 1200 words on Forrester's and I wrote this little bit. That's the most productive I've been this summer. Amazing what you do when you force yourself to sit down.
cpr for the professional chapter 1 . 6/21/2007
Yesh. I know. I Vhine. A lot. Vhining is fun. Wery, wery fun.

My public speaking is horrible. Sometimes, my leg gets this vierd tvitch. But othervise, it's not too bad if I don't mind the class.

So, for the first time in a long time, I actually vrote a one-shot. It's New(v)in/Salem, only I changed the pairing because I can. So now, it's Salem/Creighton. I love Creighton. He's such a flake. What's surprising is that I posted it, and 2! people added it to their fawourites. Dont' knov vhat vas on their mind at the time, but I'm not complaining, only that the second fawourite didn't fucking rewiev. Dumb bitch.

So I did bad on my SATs. Vhat's nev. lol. I suck at national testing. There's no study material, maybe that's vhy. Oh vell, it's high enough to get me into the college I vant.

STD injection? Vell, that certainly is vierd. Do you mean like Hep ABC shots? I think I hawe all of mine. Not quite sure, but most likely, I do. I hate shots. My arm gets all tense, so the lady showes in the damn needled and it hurts like hell.

People think you're American? Nov, that is funny! Dump masters? Dumpster is definitely better. LMAO. Dump Masters. Sound like a fancy schamcy toilet. Dump Masters 30. Nov on sale!

Oh, I reckon my part on the Thunderbox might take a vhile because I hawen't been particularly motiwated. All I hawe is something about hov emos should resort to internal bleeding cause external is a bitch to clean up.

Ve don't go to the hospital for teeth. Ve go to the dentist. Duh. But it hurts. My teeth keep cutting into my cheeks, so it's all rav and and stuff.

So, vho's all in your life, seeing as the list is so short?

Oh, and i shoved my friend our Thunderbox stuff, she liked it. Thought it was rather funny. Congrats Kirralee. LOL.

So, I'm pretty much done for nov. No complaining today. Oh, except I had to clean out the lockers at vork. NASTY. People leawe bloody pads in the damn lockers. EVV.

Oh, and my mom vants to take another trip back to Las Wegas and then drive on in to California. I think she's gone crazy. She decided this in like the last two days. Oh vell. That means potential star stalking. Avesome. Be like a paparazi.

So, bye bye. You chicken pot pie accompanied by nasty curds and vhey.
K.B. Hanna chapter 2 . 6/20/2007
I figured I might as well respond now seeing as I have nothing to do, and I need to keep myself preoccupied so I don't write this horribly cliched story I am so tempted to do just to get reviews. I mean, I have way too many characters floating around in my head. It's not healthy.

Drystan/Sonja, Niles/Missy, Salem/Nevin, Adelaide/Whoever the hell I pick (I keep bouncing), Rossi/Beau, Archie/Washington, Rowan/Kian, and now, fucking Ansley/Leighton.

Kill me now, I beg of you!

Shalom is something Jewish. You should name the brother Kosher. LMAO. It would fit in perfectly.

It only came to my mind recently that it was all cliche. I mean, the second chapter started hinting at it, but the third chapter, Woah! Although, I must say, I am incredibly nosy, so I do want the next chapter.

Yeah, I didn't much like the introduction either, that's why I think I'm changing Halifax's character a bit and introducing him as Rossi's friend, cause she's too good for 'best friends'. Actually, she just doesn't want friends, but Halifax is too abnormal/unpredictable, so she keeps him around.

I think, if Rossi describes eyes for now on, seeing as she's crude, they're going to be: 'His eyes were the color of shit, only not brown shit. They're the putrid green shit that comes with a funky smell.'

Gosh Kirralee, I just fell in love with your eyes from that description. Please, spoon one out of its socket and send it via Fed-Ex to me.

Anyways, I am mad. My damn boss wouldn't let me switch shifts because she's being a total bitch, Miss "I write people up for the hell of it because I'm too much of an old prude and I wonder why everyone hates my fat, cellulite covered ass.'

Other than that, my other boss, the one who called me antisocial, has now decided to take every chance to say to me, 'Doctor Johns, this is Candy speaking.' Asshole. Oh, and he's also resorted to calling me Princess because he reckons I'm /so/ demanding.

Other than that, my life is just peachy. Oh yes, my fucking wisdoms are coming in, and my mouth doesn't have the space. This asshole I go to school with is now working at the same place I am. The one I created pansy Niles after. Oh, and I have a summer assignment due for AP English. Yep. FABULOUS.

Other than that, I was pushed into the pool the other day. Only that was the second attempt. The first attempt failed due to these two kids were in a tube, in front of me, and somehow, I landed on the tube, and it skidded to the otherside of the 'river', so I got off dry. But the second time, the agressor wasn't standing up, so I pushed in the person closest to me, Brady. Haha.

Oh, and this one ugly guy I work with thinks I want his number, and always asks why I'm staring at him, when I'm clearly not. I mean, my standards a just a wee bit higher. Wee. Hmm. Weird word.

As for standards, I quite enjoy looking at Chris and Zac. Only Chris used to be all quiet and nice at first, but then we started talking and now every word is shit or fuck. I mean, there's only so many times a person can say those words. As for Zac, he's still pining over Nichole and is flaunting himself at Kate. Don't really like Kate. Nichole, I could deal with and get over the rejection because she's practically the nicest person I've ever met. Kate is the biggest phony I've ever met, so her, I can bitch about.

But, Beau will most definitely have Zac's smile. It's the cutest damn thing ever. So, maybe that's what I like about him, his smile. I wonder if I could jack it. Haha.

So, I'm done complaining. Here's the new beginning to Rossi's story:

There's always at least one person everyone mutually hates. Take George W. Bush for example-a complete idiot who probably can't tell the different between his head and his ass. Sure, his approval ratings were up, for awhile, but then he opens his mouth, and whoops! Bad decision there on his part. Can't say I feel for him though. Another example: Galileo Galilei, incredible genius put on permanent house arrest by a horde of popish prudes who probably had one too many candlesticks shoved up their ass. But, I have to say, the most infamous of them all: Miss Valentine Meadegow (aka: counsellor from beyond hell). She makes Michael Jackson look like the mesiah.

And that's all I have.

Stalk your paedo ass later. Yeah, it's only your ass that's the paedo, maybe some fingernails, but not all of them. Oh no. Just seven, and one big toenail.
Karma chapter 2 . 6/17/2007
'The job of waking me up for school on Monday morning is delegated to my three-legged cat Tripod'

You just dictated my monday mornings.
K.B. Hanna chapter 3 . 6/16/2007
Miss Florshiem, as Rossi would call her, is a queer.

Be made to strip? -Gasp- Is Grandma Germ a paedo? Like you? I can see where she gets it from if that's the case.

Shalom? As in Shalom in the home? I hate that show, but hey, whatever gives you jollies.

This is all becoming rather Cliche. I mean, new kid, at the same school, same neighborhood, little sis saying 'girlfriend'. Never knew you had it in you. Now, all you need is a cliche summary and you'll be rolling in the reviews and you can flaunt your other, more excellent work. I think that's the way to go. Maybe I'll do that. Get a whole bunch of readers then smack them over the head and do what I want.

Oh yeah, I found this uber kewl mapping thingy on the computer, so I'm doing my story on that because I can, and otherwise I am not organized whatsoever. But today, I didn't work on plot much. I started adding the fleshy tissues and fat to the characters. Although, Miss Meadegow has enough fatty tissue to go around.

I also decided to have a brief encounter with Beau in the first chapter, what do you think:


Miss Meadegow's erratic steps quickly come to a halt and I stumble into her backside. I pry myself away from her and the natural suction the fat attached to her body creates. She lets out a hiss and I step to the side, wondering why she stopped.

I am met with the approaching figure of Beaufort Renier, who even at a distance towers both over Miss Meadegow and myself. Slightly startling is his appearance, in which his naturally curly hair is longer than it was at the end of last year, forming somewhat of an afro. Besides the difference in his hair, his uniform is also askew, and I can't remember a time when he looked less put together. What surprises me most is the way he walks, the way his body glides as if he doesn't give a damn. In fact, I think he doesn't.

It makes me look twice, and unfortunately, it makes Miss Meadegow look twice also.

"That's a uniform violation, Mr. Renier," snaps Miss Meadegow.

Beaufort lets off a shrug, but makes no attempt to fasten the nerd button on the collar of his shirt or cinch up his tie. I quirk an eyebrow, silently questioning his actions. His violet, almost feminine eyes catch mine, and he tilts his head, slightly, in my direction.

"Rossi," he says in recognition, voice a couple octaves deeper than I last remember, sending shivers up my spine. I don't bother to tell him it's Roslyn. He turns to Miss Meadegow, assuring her that her presence is not lost. "Miss Meadegow," he greets the old wench in a cordial voice that nearly has me gagging on my breakfast cud.

"Fix your shirt and tie," she manages to say with an agitated sigh, "then get to class."

I stand still, a moment longer, watching to see if he follows her orders. In languid movements, much to my dismay, his fingers linger over the white button and fastens it. Moving onto the tie, he pushes the knot towards his neck, straightening it somewhat. On him, it all looks rather confining.

He salutes Miss Meadegow. It's mocking, I can tell, but her lips curl around the edges, hinting at a smile.

I fight back the urge to tell her she's acting like a paedophile.

"G'day ladies." He moves to pass us, lightly brushing my side as he does so. The brief contact makes me feel comfortable and suddenly out of place.

I shake off the feeling and begin to wonder if he's ever had a longer conversation than greetings and farewells. Everything is to the point, and he never bothers to elaborate on idle attempts to keep an awkward conversation from dying. Rather than fuelling it along, he stands there, shoulders straight, as to impose an underlying sense of his omnipotence, deathly quiet while the other person turns green under his scrutiny.

Talking to Beaufort equals asking him for an honest judgement. And, well, people can't /handle/ the truth.


So that's all I have for now. Someone actually added THUNDERBOX to their favorites. -Gasp- It's amazing.
crack babies have an excuse chapter 2 . 6/12/2007
So, I was totally all gungho (SP?) for having Yellow Journalism planned out, but then my laziness kicked in seeing as I really am not in the mood to torture myself after 8 pm. I like watching my movies at 8.

What do you think about the contest not starting until after we A.) Either have our stories planned out, chapter by chapter

B.) Have a basic plot


C.) Start with no general direction in mind

Personally, I'd rather do A because then it feels like I actually have a shot at completing something. We both have that horrible problem of leaving things not finished.

But I feel that if I have it planned, I can correctly reach 18 chapters without being under/over, as the contest states.

If I keep going like I have been with writing the summary to the chapters out, I usually do two, I should have the planning done in 7 days. GROANS.

How's yours going?

Just wondering, since the mom does exist, and probably won't be making any appearances, what should I call her?







Wow, I look all organized with these bulleted lists. Wow, I'm fooling everyone around me. CACKLES.

As for Rossi's story, if it ever gets off the ground and gets finished, I have a super awesome idea for a sequel featuring Neptune.

She'd be going undercover for one of the reporters, either Rossi or Halifax depending on who I want to promote in the next story.

Anyway, plot. Right.

There's a group of kids who, instead of being labeled, goths, preps, whatever, are labeled the Cutters. Because, well, they're obsessed with cutting.

Not really obsessed, but they describe it as an addiction. They don't think there's anything great about it, after all, the 'cleanup's a bitch'.

Well, Neptune gets tangled up in the group, especially with the sexy one because they always have to be sexy. Anyway, that's all I have so far, but I figured cutters would be cool. Don't ask why, 'cause I don't know.

But I figured they wouldn't be EMO because that's PREDICTABLE. They're just a bunch of kids with an unhealthy addiction-like smoking, only it's-not.

So that's my other idea, but I need to finish some damn stories.

I feel guilty. Thanks a lot.

I mean, I have way too many in mind. So I neglect all the others to go for another one. HAHA.

I'm evil. Yes, oh yes.

Oh, by the way, I read your other story. The one review made me laugh. 'are you sure it's just a story?'

Are you hiding anything Kirralee?

Are you some twenty-five year old who's hiding her face because of 'emotional scars'. Oh wait, you're just a paedo on FP.

You should make that clear next time you update.

'No, I'm not some emotionally abused little teen. I like to think of myself as a random paedo on FP'

Okay, I'm done for now. Maybe I'll work more on the planning, but I have to be to work at 9:15 because my boss is a bitch that likes exploiting me and asked me to work some more.

So, I work from like 9:15-12:00 then from 12:45-8:00. Feck, that's eleven hours. Isn't there child labor laws? Damn.

Kay, imagine I'm gay. I don't want any rude comments either. Like 'why should I have to imagine, aren't you?'

hey, bo

I don't how to be gay. How sad.

Anways, bye bye.

Pansy Princess PooPoo
grumbley bumdoodle day chapter 2 . 6/8/2007
I haven't read it yet. Just wondering, are you on? Cause I don't work until about two hours from now, and then I'll be back home at about 8:30 my time, so add like 16, i think it is, at least that's what you said one time, hours onto that for your time.
because i said so man chapter 1 . 6/4/2007
Haha. I got you all excited and for nothing, man. NOTHING. Don't worry, you'll be the first to get my new story, but I need a damn name, because a name defines EVERYTHING. I think I'm gonna create a new username for it because I can. Yeah. I can. Ya Got it? Actually, I just want to create a username called: Murder By Emo. So that's what the story's going to be under.

Grayson is a hawt name. Hawt. Good job. Hawt. Hawt. Hawt. No offense, but Halifax reminds me of car insurance, so naturally, I love it. Is Halifax and Tatum going to have their own story or be in your communist one? Oh, by the way, I'm going to refer to that story as Bolsheviks because you secretly adore communism. And you're trying to get Miss niKITA to spread it through her words. I'm gonna call her Kita because Nik is so overrated.

Dude, my mom told me what I could have been named if it wasn't going to be Rhandi. It's so creepy. I mean, it's like the anti-Rhandi.

Guess what it is...




Alexia. Ew. But she was gonna give me my great grandma's name for my middle name, Alice. But then thank god I love my great-g'ma. she said it sucked arse. haha. So I became Rhandi.

But I could have been Rhandi Marie. Ew. Again.

I decided to change Osiris's name to Ozymandias because it's cooler and I hate that damn poem. Shelly sucks, no offense, but I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

So I've had issues getting Rossi started. It's so difficult. I'll give you the first version of the beginning that I absolutely abhor and then the second that I'm working on now.


[I'm lazy. I'm crude. I'm vulgar.

I'm brash. I'm selfish. I'm immature.

To sum it all up, I'm everything a normal teenager should be.

Living up to expectations continuously results in a waste of my already-running-on-empty energy and disappointment to those with way too much hope invested in the Save Roslyn Curie From Self Destruction fund. My counsellor, Miss Meadegow, happens to be the main contributor to that pathetic fund of Canadian cash and idiots.

Miss Meadegow claims it's her attempt to 'stamp out' my 'negative traits' that 'feed off any positive trait like a parasite.' This is her cleverly masked attempt to revert back to her mediaeval nature without having the feds kick in her 17th century, caste-iron door (it was imported from Milan). She's highly attached to it. It's almost unnatural.

Intuition, on the otherhand, tells me that she's either the reincarnation or direct descendant of Vlad the Impaler. She comes across as the type to feed off someone else's blood (namely mine) with a cherubic grin plastered across her weathered, smarmy face of an old crone. At least, in my opinion she does.

Perry, or Pierre when being formal, my younger brother, claims she's not really mediaeval at all, but rather she grew up in the bayou of Louisiana. That's his explanation for the odd cruelty she exhumes with every step she takes, or well, stomps. Miss Meadegow doesn't necessarily walk, she takes heavy steps. It's understandable seeing as everything about her is heavy, whether it be her ankles or her neck that has enough fatty tissue to feed a band of African bushmen for several days.

I know who I'm eating first if I'm ever in an aeroplane crash and happen to survive.

Perhaps it's my uncanny ability to detect such truths, or quite possibly, Miss Meadegow just doesn't like me, but for whatever reason it may be, I do not enjoy being barricaded in her office.

It's frightening enough being alone with her, let alone having to gaze at the various animal heads hanging on her wall. Through sheer boredom, I name the lion with a short snout and matted fur, Goliath, and the gazelle with wonky horns, Grimley. The most discouraging item of torture in her office has to be the bear trap she uses as a paperweight or defence mechanism. I haven't quite interpreted its purpose yet. But it does serve to satisfy her sadistic glee. That much I know.

Miss Meadegow spins around in her chair, scraping the stone floor beneath her, unsettling the thin layer of dust that coats the floor. The lack of carpet, or even an area rug is confusing, but I make no mention of it. With difficulty, her chair rolls across the floor of her office until she grabs a fire poker to the left of her desk and whacks the bear trap, setting off the mechanism. It clamps around the poker, adding to the notches on the metal rod from previous occasions.

"It keeps the hooligans at bay," she mutters in explanation, still engrossed with the pile of vanilla coloured papers beneath the trap.

Safely sliding the rusted bear trap off her mound of papers and setting it on the floor, in front of the door with its mouth still clamped around the rod, Miss Meadegow begins to sort through the stack. Some of the papers are discoloured, looking like Miss Meadegow urinated on them, while others have coffee rings stamped on the corners. It takes her a moment or so to find one that is completely covered in red corrections, making it almost impossible to distinguish the original hue of the paper.

"Here it is," she says dramatically in her shrill voice, her beady eyes scrutinising the paper. "Here is your future, right here-in my hands."

She holds it close enough so I can see it clearly, but far enough away so that I can't snatch it out of her grasp. She taunts me in an attempt to convey the limited powers she holds over me.]

I know, it sucks, but I like the idea for her office. That counsellor is evil. I based her off mine, only uglier and fat, but still as evil.

And new version:

[I'm lazy. I"m crude. I'm vulgar.

I'm brash. I'm selfish. I'm immature.

To sum it all up, I'm everything a normal teenager should be.

Unfortunately, being normal has its setbacks. I tend to piss a lot of people off. Well, wait, scratch that. I tend to piss Miss Meadegow, my counsellor, off. That's not much of a difference I guess. She has enough surface area to account for the missing subjects in 'a lot'.

She's in denial about being a selfish, old bitch with nasty bunions. Whenever I get a chance, I try to remind her of her true nature-ground her a bit.

If there is any body part that can describe one's personality, the feet definitely are the ribbon winners for Miss Meadegow.

In general, her feet are the inspiration that spur horror flicks. They're short and stubby, and if it weren't for the hot-pink polish on her toenails, they'd be a crusty yellow. Her feet are so dry and flaky that they could easily beat out the worst case of dandruff. I constantly tell her that she should try out for the before pictures in foot fungus commericals.

I don't think she likes that. Pity, she could create a foot fungus empire with those gnarly beasts.

The rest of Miss Meadegow is short and stubby also. Her ankles and neck have enough fatty tissue to feed a band of African bushmen for at least a week.

Whenever I'm forced to take a visit down to the Natural Science department, I try to convice them to see if every step, well, stomp, Miss Meadegow takes can be measured on their seismograph. So far, I've had no such luck in convincing the droll little pricks. They get their jollies off by shocking people. No one has ever told them that a quick deck in the nose is much more efficient.]

Not quite as long, but I wrote it like ten minutes ago. I like the new one, it seems more like Rossi. I can't believe she went into detail on the feet. I hate feet. I liked the seismograph. I want one.

So, I don't know what I think about Rossi and Beau yet. I'm still trying to get Beau down pat. I keep going over conversations in my head.

You should help me make him all hot. Right now, he's a rugby player because they're my new fetish. Oh yeah. lol. I might make him a lefty because of course, leftys are hot, well, at least in my opinion.

Maybe I'll make him a pseudo-emo, only not all broody. Maybe I'll give him piercings, not nipple, that's gross, that Rossi hates, but secretly likes. Weird girl.

I don't know. Maybe I'll redefine hot. Then people will copy me and then I'll be like, 'Hey, back off biatch. I claimed it first.'

Oh, a white man's afro! lol. I don't know. Maybe I'll just give him a military crew cut.

Right, so I'm out of things to say because it's almost 12 and my brain shut off after work. So, peace out man.
cheerio chap chapter 1 . 5/30/2007
So, I was bashing my head against the keyboard, trying to think of a way to start this oneshot I wanted to write. I tell ya, it's so flipping hard to start something, but then once you start it, the motivation required to continue is even worse. It's horrible.

But, as I was saying, while bashing my head in, I started typing things I thought no one would admit to. Don't ask why, but my gawsh, I think I got an opening statement/summary. What do you think:

[I'm lazy. I'm crude. I'm vulgar.

I'm brash. I'm selfish. I'm immature.

To sum it all up, I'm everything a normal teenager should be.]

I thought it was funny. But basically, I've decided it's going to be about a girl that takes the easy way out of things until her councillor intervenes and signs her up for a Journalism class.

Seeing as the girl has no writing abilities worthwhile, the newspaper editor and teacher force her to conduct all of the interviews and type out a transcript. They do this just to occupy her time and keep her from bothering them.

Every month, the newspaper features an in depth interview of one person nominated by the school body. As in, the staff submits questions, students submit questions, and the interviews use their own questions.

Now, this is a racy school newspaper, so the questions can go as far to say 'What's your penis size?' It's amazing how they get away with it, but they do. The school system is crap.

So, the main character is assigned to conduct the next interview. -enter cliche- The assigned interviewee is a person the main character was once friends with, but as time went on, they eventually lost touch. Not because of some horrible accident or whatever, simply because people change. They both realize this aspect, so sadly enough, there is no hatred.

Only, the conflict arises when the person doesn't want to be interviewed, and the main character is sent on a wild goose chase, trying to get her interview. Once she gets her interview, no vows of 'I Love You' are exchanged because I don't swing that way. They go back to their stratas of the social circle.

The main character types of the transcript to the interview and hands over the original recordings with it on to one of the columnists, but the columnist changes the usual interview and completely changes the direction of the interview.

And well, that's all I'm telling you. Oh, you can have some of the character names because they're fun/evil.

Main Character: Roslyn (Rossi)

Main Character Bro: Pierre (Perry)

Interviewee: Beaufort (Beau)

Misc: Chiffon, Neptune, Osiris (Oz), Vulcan

Teachers: Mr. De Luca, & Miss Meadegow

So yeah. That's some characters. My friend gave me chiffon, I was like 'Hell no.' and then 'Oh, wait, that could actually work.' Did you find your name you wanted to use yet?

Oh, and the story features a...




Dunce Cap.

Oh yeah. I love that part. It's so awesome. Here's a sentence I'm going to use it in:

[Due to her queer and prudish behavior, I filch her cone-shaped dunce hat on my way out.]

So, uh, I'm not sure if I have much else to say. Only, do you think I should write this story? Should it be a one-shot, or a novel length?

I can't believe this came before Archie and Washington. How evil. Grr. Oh well. I like the idea somewhat.

Do you think it's cliche?
Midnight Owl chapter 1 . 5/28/2007
I love games like this! And I put a lot of stock into the fact that a person's favorite things are reflective of their personalities so you definitely have a guesstimating game follower. Of sorts.

Anyways, i'm not sure if this is a one-off or you're going to be updating this, but if you are, I'd love to see where it's going. :)
Brekay chapter 1 . 5/21/2007
Not bad for a first chapter. I'm assuming the main character is around 18. So that would mean that her parents split up when she was 5ish. Interesting so far. I think you should continue this for sure. :)
Hey Boo chapter 1 . 5/19/2007
I broke the review thing! All I have to do is delete my cookies. Haha. Take that Fictionpress. I think I'm gonna go plug your other stories because I'm bored.

Gawsh, just to annoy you and further my 'writing' skills, I'm gonna write my nerd wars with the lovely Archie and Washington in present tense, and better yet, I've decided to make it in Washington's Point-Of-View because guys have more character, and -cough-I need practice-cough- if I'm going to be a fannyballs named Leigh. So yeah.

Only, the story is way cool because I was bored in Stats and Western Civilization II, so I started writing Washington's point-of-view, and it turned out way fun. I've decided he's gonna be the skateboarder. In the story, I have this way awesome/nutty physics teacher that confiscates Washington's skateboard, and uses it for a demonstration during class. He's kinda not up-to-date on the terminology though, so an Ollie to him is a Wally, as in like Leave It To Beaver. He's still stuck in TV Land times. I'm gonna have to find a different character as a tribute to you Aussies. YOU should LIKE TOTALLY write a bimbo American and be like 'Yeah, I based her off my collaboration partner who's currently been admitted to an asylum.' Although, I'm not a bimbo, that would be Mackenzie, Miss My Birth Control Is Better Than Yours.

Guess what! I've finally come to the conclusion that you whine A LOT. I mean, I do too, it's my favorite thing to do, but man, you do whine. It's funny, and it's all: WHINE, WHINE, WHINE, WHINE, WHINE. But I like your whining, it's FUNNY. So, KEEP whining. (I can use CAPS too!)

I never had to take home the school's babies. I purposely avoided that class seeing as you had to get 'married' to a douche bag, so I swore it off. Plus, I hate electronic babies. The only electronic things I can stand are the Telly, Computer, and my MP3 player. All of those added together equal life. Without them, I am DEAD. My music equals love. Oh yes, any future boyfriend will have to accept coming in second to a band.

Actually, POKIE MACHINES are called SLOT MACHINES. Oh yes, I've visited several of them. I like them. I like the BLING BLING, and I like the FLASH FLASH. Plus, I LOVE the free FOOD that comes in the casinos. PLUS I get free RUBBER DUCKIES. I mean, who doesn't like the SQUEAK SQUEAK.

I have to go to work tomorrow, it's sad, but on the brightside, I only have 4! more days of school left. Which means, 1! more class day and then FINALS. Shoot me! Finals suck. My stats grade is going to plummet. My mother is going to kill me. So I'm screwed, but at least I'll be at work 3/4 of the time, so I won't have to hear her complain all day.

I only get bagged for being emo when my hair is down, and it's straight. Otherwise, I'm quite the opposite of emo. I'm too bitchy to be emo, and the closest form to self-mutilation I practice, is acquiring bruises, and that's only from bumping/setting a soccerball instead of a volleyball. Like right now, I have all these weird little purple spots over my forearms, so it looks like I have some weird/contagious disease. I think I'm gonna see how many people I can convince that I have scabies.

Tatum is actually a famous actress, although I always call everyone an actor because feminine/masculine titles are sexist. Oh yes. Sexist. I mean, why can't women have titles that are masculine. Why must they always have the pansy title. If I ever become an /actress/, I'll proclaim myself to be an ACTOR. Then I'll be like, 'What did you call me you little punk? I'm not an actress, I'm a flipping ACTOR.'

I think you have a name phobia. You're never going to come up with a suitable name for your male lead. For now, I shall refer to him as Mister Dred. Do you want normal names, semi-normal names, or screw-normal names? That might help.

For normal, what about just plain Scott? Or do you have anything against someone named Scott? I don't really like the name Scott, but I figure, hey, it's normal for me. Actually, extremely normal. It looks nothing like Track or Pitch. Or Torrance or Rogan. (I can give you Rogan if you want)

Oh hey, that reminds me, should Washington's brother be named Grant (After Ulysses S. Grant) or Columbus (After crazy man Christopher Columbus who cut off people's noses)? Or, Sherman (After William 'I've Got A Torch' Sherman).

For Semi-Normal, what about the name Pogue? I don't know why, but I actually like that name. I think I saw it on a movie once, the character wasn't very big, but I liked the name, so I remembered it. If you want weird nicknames, just think of a theme, like types of plants, or something, and I'll help you come up with something. That's how I get some of my names, like the weirdo sports ones.

For plain old crazy ones, I'm gonna give you Bic after the pencil that's nearest to me, but I don't like that, so I'm gonna give another suggestion. Just give me a minute to find a name that's psycho.

(Oh, I think I'm gonna use the last name Pearson for Archie's brother. I think he was part of a formula or something, but then his middle name is going to be Abacus. LMAO. I'm naming him after an ancient calculator.)

I couldn't find any crazy ones that were okay, unless you wanted like an african or arabic name. So, I'm gonna give you the first lastname I saw in a magazine. Maybe it will spike your interest (I doubt it, but hey). Anyway...

The name...



How boring. It's kinda nice though. I would probably use it, although I like Pogue better because I'm odd like that.

Oh, for some reason, the name Cohen made me remember something gross today. Okay, usually, I make myself some weird coffee drink with milk in it because I have a slight caffeine addiction, and I made one a couple days ago. Only, I didn't finish it because after I made it, I realized I didn't want it. So the cup, still full, set in my room for a couple days. I came back today after being at my aunt's for a while, and then I smell something funny in my room, like someone had been in there. I couldn't figure out what it was, but then it dawned on me, it was my coffee thing. The milk in it had gone bad, and there was this creepy clumpy thing that the top. Man did it stink. But yeah. The name Cohen now reminds me of spoiled milk.

Maybe I ruined the name Cohen for you, but I swear, if you use it, I shall get over the spoiled milk. Oh, by the way, I'm hinting that you should use either Scott or Pogue. Yes.

But, you can choose whatever you want. You are just a weird namer. I spend like 3 minutes finding a name. I usually choose ones that suit their personality. Before I know anything about the character, I get a name, and it just works from there. I guess I'm the opposite of most 'real' authors. I don't develop the character first, I think the name actually develops it, so yep.

Oh yeah, you should give me some plot ideas for my nerd wars. I'm not super smart to go all out with high tech equipment and ideas to maim other people, especially other people named Archie.

Oh, I got a cool description for Archie that will probably not ever be included. I've decided she has this green, corduroy beret she always wears. She has about short/medium hair that's always tucked under it, so people are like WTF woman? Are you a cancer patient, or what? But I figure when she does let her hair down, it's thick, shaggy, and hangs like a guy's. I'm thinking it's going to be a dirty blonde, almost bordering on brunette. Then, she has this old pair of checkered Vans that she always wears, but the heel has torn away from the sole, so every times she walks, the shoes make a slapping sound like flip-flops. Oh, and instead of normal clothes, she always cuts her jeans off into shorts that barely reach above the knees. In short, she doesn't like to try anything new, hence the Vans and cut-off jeans. I figure her to be like a new-age grunge hippy, only she doesn't have the ideals of a hippy. I don't know what Washington's going to see in her yet. I gotta figure out the romance aspect.

I haven't decided much on Washington. All I know is he's obsessed with his skateboard, and I think I'm gonna make him name it.

I'm actually getting way more excited about nerd wars, which tells you my attention span on a story. I always start them, but it takes me years to finish them. The same goes for anything else I do. It's crazy. CRAZY I tell you.

Ok, I'm done for now because I'm tired of typing and I have Archie/Washington on the brain now. It's not a good combo I tell you. Plus, Adelaide is getting violent. She's tired of being neglected.
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