#148: Nerf Duel
Ben suggested I conduct a nerf duel, using historical rules of combat. But historical rules are always either:
a) stuffy (like, I’d need to be a nobleman, which would require quite a bit of lifestyle change).
b) bloody (and it’s REAL hard to draw blood with a nerf gun).
Nevertheless, I got me some guns, some ammo, and the following fierce opponent (here photographed expertly loading his gun):
We lined ourselves up in the square, ready for battle.
And pow! Bang! Arg!
Until the inevitable end.
Not satisfied with having killed the narrator, the deadly gun-toting four year old turned on his Uncle CJ:
Naturally, since I’m now dead I don’t know the outcome of the second duel. I have just one comment – Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?
Look at those deadly eyes!
Coming soon: The reverse burglary victim revealed!
Secret # 6 (hopefully)
Go mad in a lolly shop (Mmmmm)
Eat Yum Cha (Mmmmm)
Three days without any junk food whatsoever (arg, the pain!!)
And a surprise or two
Today’s reverse burglary clue: My burglary did NOT take place on the day I posted it. So if you’ve been thinking, “I was home that day – I know for certain it wasn’t me!” then – guess again.
I know at least three tortured souls have been scouring their homes for candy, so I plan to actually reveal the location of the lollies. . . tomorrow.
In other news, my fish appear absolutely fine thus far, except there is white fuzz growing on the heater (I’ve cleaned it once with a toothbrush and boiling water, and I’ll clean it again) probably as a result of the first plant dying. I plan to buy one of those “I clean your tank” fish, hopefully today.
S#65: Personal Manifesto
Steff Metal (of the infamously awesome list) wrote:
65. Write a Personal Manifesto
Who are you really? What are you about? What makes you tick? What morals and beliefs do you follow?
Write yourself a personal manifesto – who you are, who you want to be and how you’re gonna get there.
I’ve been looking forward to this entry. Then I saw a post by Donald Miller (http://donmilleris.com/) about seeing your life as a story (rather than a Dilbert-esque mission statement) and, as a storyteller, I LOVED it. So here’s the blurb on the back of the unfolding movie of my life (remember to get breathless as you reach the end):
A burnt-out missionary writes young adult books featuring true heroes – the kind that readers can look up to. She hangs on the edge of major publication for years as her mental illness worsens. Will she achieve her own dreams before her illness swallows her last heroic spark of hope?
(The answer, of course, is yes.)
And in the meantime, I live a heroic life every day, and inspire others through my blog of Daily Awesomeness. And of course I keep writing (I forgot to mention during “Try, try again” that my novels have been rejected sixty-eight times – about twelve of which were by a very narrow margin. A perverse part of me hopes to reach a hundred before I get accepted.)
Play along at home: Write your own storyline with a main character (that’s you), a crucial problem to overcome (what do you want most?), and what’s at stake for you. Think Hollywood, baby! It’s adjective time at last!
If you’re brave enough, post the results here.
Incidentally, happy mothers day to all my lady readers. Goodness knows we all mother our menfolk every day. A special shout-out to my pregnant sister. If your partner hasn’t bought you chocolate (or perhaps pickles and ice cream), he is a cad. Go buy your own.
Oh! Sorry I forgot to give a reverse burglary clue yesterday. Here’s two:
1. My victim was not a student of mine.
2. When I “broke in” I walked through the front door.
#118: Collage of Awesomeness
This is an idea from lovechelsealauren.blogspot.com (thanks Chelsea!)
I’m rubbish at collages (virtual or otherwise) but I quite enjoyed suddenly having a visual representation of some of my best awesome moments from the last little while. So here it is!
The links to the relevant blog entries are:
#123: Edit a steampunk novel
Editing a novel is a mammoth task, and as a result it’s very satisfying to get to the end. I was lucky enough to edit a young adult steampunk novel which was well written and entertaining, so it therefore qualifies as today’s Daily Awesomeness. Here’s a steampunkish picture to give you a little hint of the place I’ve visited for so many hours this week:
This picture was taken from http://ageofsteam.wordpress.com.
Oh! And speaking of steampunk, Richard Harland recently wrote a post on how it’s done. http://ripping-ozzie-reads.com/2010/04/30/tips-for-writing-steampunk/
Play along at home: If you’re a writerly type, you can both give and receive helpful editing at sites like this one: http://editorunleashed.com/forum/
Tomorrow: A collage of awesomeness. Secret # 6 is having further issues, so may take another week or two – sorry. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.
And now, as always on a Friday, here’s the current twittertale so far:
AND THEN I WOKE UP
5
I woke with my face in concrete. Wet concrete. Not concrete – meat. Meat and blood, and it was in my MOUTH! Yuck! I sat up, spitting.
Then I saw the bodies all around me. No-one else was waking up, like I had. But a few others, like me, had blood dripping down their chins.
Wasn’t I just in maths class? I shook my head, trying not to scream. Hysteria took over, and I said aloud, “Please, not the maths!”
6
I sheltered overnight in an abandoned apartment. The homiest part was the curtains (burnt) but I found an unopened tin of baked beans.
Evidently even apocalypse survivors don’t eat baked beans. Also there was no can opener. I began to understand my own cannibalism.
My body was different, too – not just thinner. With a mirror, I discovered I was now in my twenties. What!?! Did I go to the prom or not?
7
I watched through burnt curtains as a group of people walked slowly down the street. They walked upright, and they weren’t as thin as me.
My belly rumbled, so I broke a two by four off the bed for a weapon, and went downstairs to follow the tall ones.
#132: Try, try again
Awesomeness isn’t awesomeness without a risk. That means that sometimes I’m going to fail – and if I’m brave enough, I’ll fail badly.
Remember when I bought fish? https://shootingthrough.net/2010/04/01/s78-adopt-a-pet/
I mentioned several times after the above entry that I hadn’t killed the fish. It turned out I’d spoken too soon. All but one of those fish died within two weeks. Most of them passed away on one day, and it was torture to watch them all slowly die.
I still feel horrible that my ignorance caused all that, but I decided to overcome the trauma the best way I know how: by giving myself a more positive experience of the fish-keeping experience. CJ suggested that I should blog about it here – he said that overcoming failure was definitely awesome in itself.
The fish died over three weeks ago, and I’ve spent that time learning more about how to care for them better. I now have a heater, a filter, a light, a plant, and four different types of water-treating substance (plus the ph test kit I had last time). One of them, Gandalf the fighting fish, lived.
The plant died horribly, which wasn’t the most heartening event ever (oh, and I also broke the original tank while cleaning it – the second fish tank I’ve broken in this cursed voyage). I had samples of my fish water tested at the Belconnen Markets pet store (which I recommend, having been given consistent advice between Belconnen Markets staff). The water was fine, but they said it’s an oversensitive plant and recommended another type, which I bought. Neon tetras like places to hide, so I also bought a plastic hollow-log-with-holes-in-it in case this plant died too. Here’s the remains of the first plant getting stuck in the filter like green fur:
I decided not to get danios this time – they terrorise the other fish.
So today I finally bought five more neon tetras. I know that they often go into shock and die within a week of purchase, so I have their bag sitting inside the tank (with Gandalf, the fighting fish, nosing at the plastic). Each hour I add one dessert spoon of the tank water to their bag, so they can adjust gradually to their new environment.
I’ll report back and let you know how they go.
Oh! And I almost forgot. Last year I wrote and edited a book called “Farting my ABCs”, with a specific publisher in mind. That publisher just replied with their response to the book (that I sent them more than eight months ago – and it’s only 7000 words long) with a no. That’s unfortunate. But I have a contact at another publisher, so I’ll edit “Farting My ABCs” and send it to them the instant I’m happy with it (which can’t possibly be long, since it’s such a stellar example of my literary prowess).
PS: Today’s clue on who is the victim of reverse burglary – it wasn’t Steff Metal either (she lives in New Zealand). Or, as pointed out in yesterday’s comments, my brother-in-law Nick, who is in Beijing. Although it’s possible that it was my sister, since her husband would make a worthy accomplice.
#142: Reverse Burglary
Today’s awesomeness was sneaky. I broke into the home of a friend and, instead of stealing from them, I added two items to their home.
1) A large stick of hard candy that says, “Your souvenir of Blackpool”.
2) A jar of lollies with my victim’s name as the brand name.
But I hid them.
What is more, I fixed up the house before I left (not that I broke it, exactly), so there’s absolutely no sign of my passing (unless he/she looks in just the right place).
He/she is a person who reads my blog, so who is it?
My mum and dad?
My mum-in-law?
My partner (which would make breaking in somewhat easier)?
W?
Ben, the Master of Sarcasm (who suggested this)?
Ann?
My cousin Jolyon?
My artist friend whose name starts with E?
One of my students (four of them visit this blog, and their initials are LD, SK, CT and PJ)?
Steff Metal?
Each day I’ll give a clue, until YOU OUT THERE find the evidence of my crime and write a comment to say so. (Be advised that it’s possible I had an accomplice.)
Alternatively, you can all scour your entire house from top to bottom, find absolutely nothing, and write a comment to complain that I’ve made you paranoid. It’s all fun from where I’m standing. (Yes, I’m a terrible friend/tutor. I know.)
First clue: It’s not my cousin – he lives in America and I don’t know anyone who lives near him.
Play along at home: Sneak lollies into a friend’s home (if you’re like me, you have enough of a criminal mind to know where they keep their spare key/which window they leave open/their landlord’s trusting nature/which door doesn’t lock properly, etc – otherwise, pay them a visit and commit the crime when they’re out of the room).
Coming soon: Secret # 6 is progressing semi-smoothly. I plan to post the results on either Thursday (yes, tomorrow) or Sunday.
I’ll also (in the next little while) Make a collage, Edit a friend’s novel, and Try, try again.
#145: De-Motivational Posters
Ben sent me a huge list of suggestions, and this is just the beginning (Reverse Burglary and Secret # 6 are coming very soon). Feel free to post these anywhere you like, just link back here when you do.
Play along at home: Make your own de-motivational poster today!
S#81: Ice Cream Parlour
I have a confession to make: I don’t like ice cream. For me, it’s simply not unhealthy enough. There’s not enough sugar, colouring, flavouring and chocolate to make even high-quality ice cream cut it for me.
But I have solved that pressing concern. Some of you are familiar with Jigsaw, Goodberries or Cold Rock ice cream. It’s very easy to make your own version at home.
1. Buy an ice cream base (I like Cadbury choc chip ice cream).
2. Buy fillings – I bought a few:
3. Chop/mash/bash up your fillings and mix them with the ice cream (possibly adding topping, as I did). Refreeze if required (recommended).
4. Eat.
5. Have a lie down and/or a stomach pump.
I particularly like the combination of caramel (any kind) and rocky road chocolate with ice cream. Too many fillings can overwhelm the dish – but sometimes that’s the effect you’re aiming for.
Play along at home: Eat something delicious. Write in and tell me what it was.
Coming soon: Secret # 6
Edit a friend’s novel
De-Motivational posters (I’ve been working on them today)
Make a collage
Go crazy in a lolly shop (pretty soon, because I’m about to lose some weight)
Try, try again (again)
And a surprise or two
#82: Buy Boots
People who know me in the 3D sense will know that I bought my first pair of boots about five years ago now (and left them – frozen, defrosted, frozen again, and holed in numerous places – in China this January). Way back when I bought them, I’d been thinking about buying new boots for some weeks, and had decided on a light brown pair from a particular shop, that I knew cost my maximum of $100 (I was rather poorer then, and had never spent such a lofty sum on a single item of clothing before). There were only two tiny problems: 1. I had selected them based on the belief they were lined with warm fur (they weren’t). 2. The only pair left in the shop was two sizes too small for me.
I bought them anyway. At first I could only walk a few steps before the pain made me hobble. But in a mere two years they were no less comfortable than all my other shoes. By the four year mark, they were my most comfortable shoes. (Again, I sense some elusive life lesson here.)
As those boots grew increasingly obvious aeration holes, I knew the time had come to buy a new pair of boots to see me through Winter 2010 (here in the Southern hemisphere, I have less than a month remaining until Winter hits, and nothing but plastic sandals to wear to work). And then it happened: Rivers had a sale on women’s boots.
I hastened to the store with heart in throat and $28 in wallet (it was a rather impressive sale, to be sure). The saleswoman mercifully left me alone to sweat and strain my way into the various boot styles like a stingy wannabe Cinderella. To my great and lasting astonishment, I found a pair in the correct size.
Well, sort of.
The feet are certainly the correct size. The legs. . . well. . .
I’d hate to be indelicate, so let’s just say that I have more legs than, strictly speaking, is required. Not so much more in quantity, but in sheer chocolate-inspired quality. Or, to put it another way, my leg budget for this year is far greater than expected. Or should I say my legs are providing a valuable anti-starvation backup nutrient supply?
Anyway. . .
It is quite difficult to do up the zips on these boots (which, mercifully, go from my ankles up to as close as possible to my knees). So difficult, in fact, that after owning these boots for two days my left index finger (at the first join, where the zipper is dragged from) is red and sore, and my right index finger has a visible blister.
Here’s a picture of the marks on my legs after wearing the boots a few hours (note the puckering on the inside of my legs, where the zipper goes; the mark on my left leg, however, is from shark bite in the Canberra Centre fountain):
Never fear – it always takes a year or two for these things to get into their stride.
Play along at home: Buy boots (long ones if you’re a girl). They’re worth it. If you’re a beginner at the boot game, it’s probably best to be a little fussier on how well they fit.
Coming soon: Secret # 6, suggested privately by Ben, who told me this blog isn’t weird enough. “What the people want is weirdness,” he said. “Something really out there. Ooh, I have an idea. . .”
I will do my best to do it sometime this week.
#142: Make home-made lemonade (with SCIENCE)
Yes, yes, I know – Monday’s predictions of this week’s awesomeness were wildly innaccurate. Shut up.
Every time I see the brilliant yellow of supermarket lemons I think, “Mmm. . . lemonade. . .” Today, while doing the classic “just a little shop on my way home” thing, I saw lemons on special and grabbed two as I flew past (knocking down pensioners with my trolley and elbowing young mums out of my way as I raced for the checkout).
As I write, I’m sipping the sweet beverage itself. Mmm. . . lemonade.
In my (incredibly recent) experience, two small lemons + a bunch of water + three-quarters of a cup of sugar = two glasses lemonade.
But there’s more. My rather sarcastic friend Ben (yes, the one of “Frolic in a Fountain” fame) tasted my lemonade (many eons ago now) and said, “It’s too acidic.”
“Never fear!” I cried. “I’ll add more sugar at once!”
He shook his head slowly. “No. . . sugar is acidic too.”
“Don’t be a fool!” I expostulated (probably while gesticulating). “Are you trying to claim that sugar isn’t the solution to both this and every other problem of mankind?”
He ignored me and went to my fridge, muttering, “Alkaline! We need alkaline!”
I eyed the exits and calculated whether or not I could beat him outside if he grabbed a knife and attacked me.
Eventually, he grabbed. . . a pack of bicarb soda. He said, “This should work.”
With grave doubts about him and everything he and his science degree stood for, I added a small amount of bicarb to the mix, and tasted it.
That moment changed my life.
It was the best lemonade I’d ever tasted. Not only did the bicarb soda keep the wonderful taste intact while eliminating the mouth-puckering pain, it gave the drink a tiny hint of fizz that I love to this day. Thus, in today’s batch of lemonade I added half a teaspoon of bicarb.
Play along at home: This is easy, cheap, delicious, and protects you against scurvy. So get to it, you maggoty excuse for a landlubber’s dog!
Tomorrow: Something awesome. (Haven’t decided what yet. Plans are for sissies.)
Felicity Banks 