I bet you're just loving this.

When Zlata arrived at the camp, she was shocked. There were so many people. They bustled around in crowds, chatting, eating, or looking busy, but who could tell. They all wore the knee length yellow tunic with golden trim, and the black sash mandated by the camp. Zlata herself was clad in this garb. Her tunic was pale yellow, and the neck square-cut. Her sleeves had been cropped. Her tunic was belted with black leather, and a slit beginning just below the waist went all the way to the hem. She wore black, knee length shorts and the standard leather sandals. Zlata's sash was knotted around her head, blending with her ear-length black, pixie-like hair. Her hair framed her face, and contrasted and brought out her red eyes.
Slung over Zlata's back was a leather backpack containing chalk, pencils, ball point pens, four quills or calligraphy, and a note book bound with black leather provided by the camp for all purposes. And inside another pocket was her lunch.
Zlata took a piece of paper out of the pack and looked at it. It had directions how to get to a circular stadium above the forest. She set off, following the main steam of people. As she walked, she scanned the crowd for familiar faces, and found none. Zlata continued.

Boot Camp for the Magically Talented

Never one to be held down for long (yeah right.), I am launching into a completely new novel called Boot Camp for the Magically Talented!!!!!!

Zlata climbed over the last rock interrupting her view and panned the horizon. She was about to start attending a rigorous camp for the magically inclined. The scene below consisted of a large lake, with buildings arranged around it. There was a sand pit, barely visible from this altitude, and the whole landscape was surrounded by forest, and the mountain, really a large hill, that she stood on.
Using her arm as an axle, Zlata jumped down from the rock and began her decent.

. . . ugh.

I can't find the stupid James Banzai thing. I give up with you.

heheheh. (my favorite thing to say)

I played around with the template a little. Hope you like it.

Part II

2.576 blocks away, Ivan Ivans polished the brightly shining day-glow orange fins on his second favorite golf cart, not to be confused with his favorite golf cart, which had neon blue fins. Sky blue, to be exact. He stared lovingly at the bumper sticker, "God is my Lawyer." This was the bumper sticker his friend's uncle got for him when he graduated from law school, two dreadful, dreadful years ago. He then glanced lovingly at the connect four game he had received for his fifth birthday, which he had spent swinging on the family futon couch.

heheheh. the horror continues. And the funny part is, I'M NOT DONE YET!! HAHAHAHAHA!

Awful writing in store

This is part of an awful story I wrote, detective novel style, as part of a class called, "The Best Worst Story Ever." The point is, be overly descriptive, and just write horribly. Without further ado, here I go.

It was a dark and sunny night. I sat with my feet on my desk, pushing around my .3 mm hospital-swag ball point pen. I was tapping my size nine collectors edition Brad Pitt loafers as I contemplated my next case. My mind was like a river that went in a loop. Never ending. It was a case to figure out just which evil-doer killed my associate's friend's cousin's uncle's daughter's dog walker's grand mother on the father's side.
My name is James Banzai, and I'm a Private I. Investigation is my profession, Danger is my mother's maiden name. Rain drops ricocheted off the windows like bullets ricocheting off a Kevlar© bullet proof vest. The wind howled like the blast of air after four-wheel drive, making the curtains swing like a monkey trying to reach that last banana, or a five year old on a futon couch. The windows rattled like the same five year old shaking a birthday present that happened to contain a game of connect four. But who knew that that five year old would grow up to be such a notorious evil-doer.
The grandmother was killed on Friday the fourteenth of November. Apparently she was hit (and killed) by a golf cart sporting an Oklahoma license plate, and bright, day-glow orange fins and a bumper sticker that said, "God is my lawyer." Apparently not, because the owner of this bumper sticker did not stay around long enough to see who they hit.

heheheh. Did you enjoy that? I should hope not. More . . . soon. . .?

The Protector of the Small quartet

I admit, I was put off reading these books by the title of the series(misspelled), but I had read pretty much every other Tamora Pierce book in existence at that point, because I'm a big fan of her work. This is pretty much my favorite quartet in the tortal series(misspelled). Mostly because of one character, Nealan of Queenscove. He is awesome. Neal (as he is called) is an intellectual who for some reason decided to become a knight. He has a dry sense of humor, and a very entertaining temper. I would say, read these books just cuz he's in them, although that's not the only reason. Overall (I feel like I'm wrapping up a school paper), these are good books. (lame wrapping up on my part, but who cares.)

Oy vey.

My creative juices have all evaporated. I cannot think of what to write. Writing is hard, damn it! So I'll steal an idea, and review books! ha ha ha. . .