Oh hm.

I do a lot of "creative writing"...but I've been doing it very differently lately...incorporating pictures into my pieces and whatnot. I might post them to be read. I might not. It makes me nervous.

So here are some other nice things.

This here is a monster I drew.

I like him a lot. He talks in numbers.

He is part of the story I am writing.

I've found this drawing requires some explanation. After watching the first Harry Potter movie, I was absolutely enamored with all things "HP". I'd read some of the books, and I wanted to do everything in my measly twelve year old powers to get closer to my one true love...

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM.

THAT is a REAL MAN for you.

*WHISPER* Matthew Lewis will you marry me...?

Anyway, remember the scene where Hagrid takes Harry & Co. into the Forbidden Forest? Yeah. There is a dead unicorn in there. Hagrid sticks his hand in it's blood and is all *SNIIIFFF* UNEECURN BLUUUUD. Young me thought shampoo looked like it. I believe I used Pantene then.

Even though the shampoo I use now is a different color...The whole shiny bit is still similar.

This is a monster. Self-explanatory.

I drew this comic in about two minutes for my soccer buddy.

Bodily Functions

Today I was sitting and innocently watching the school play dress rehearsal with a friend*. We were having a pretty good time, sitting in the middle of the theater and taking pictures of the actors doing their thing, when I began to smell something.

*He wasn't actually a friend. More like a well-known acquaintance.

I had been gassy all day long, and frequently letting loose (silently- I have no doubt it was undetectable) in uncontrollable flatulence spasms. Now I wondered if perhaps the scent was attributed to one of these occurrences?

I shrunk down in my seat, hoping to stifle the smell, when my companion waved his hand in front of his nose, as if to say, "Whoo! It smells like someone has crapped their pants."

AWESOME.

In an effort to stall for time I whispered, "Yeah, dude. I was thinking the same thing. Something smells gross."

Shockingly, he answered, "Yeah, sorry. I had a cheeseburger last night and since then it's just been..."

I didn't hear the rest of what he said. There were two things wrong with this.

1. He owned up to his fart. Outside of family, this never happens.

2. He's hindu. Burger...? I think not!

I smiled weakly and nodded, then turned my attention to my cell phone, texting furiously.

Ah, but the awkward did not stop there, oh no.

"I was just going to text you that this is fun," He said (sarcastically the 'this is fun' part), "And I realized I don't have your number."

Really? That's very interesting... >__> ... It would have been impolite if I had not offered him my phone number. So I read it out loud for him, all the while thinking about how peculiar it was for him to steer

the conversation in this direction.

There are a few questions you just shouldn't ask if you've just farted.

I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend he is even more socially inept than I am.