Yeah, I know: punning is not the best way to kick off your Friday morning, but I couldn't help myself.
I had to get up early this morning and take my mom to the airport. On our way down the driveway (which is half a mile long, btw), we noticed "our" hawk (whom I've nicknamed "Stratos") attacking what appeared to be a wiggling pile of horse shit; upon closer inspection, we realized that it was not, in fact, horse shit, but a pheasant, struggling to live. Alas, fate had conspired against the poor bird! Returning from the airport, all that was left of it was a partial carcass and, a few feet away, a pile of feathers.
Because there is something very, very wrong with me, my first instinct was to take pictures. Naturally, I'm now going to post them here. Enjoy.
In case anyone was wondering, Stratos absolutely fucking terrifies me. One of these nights, I'm going to be out smoking a cigarette in the dark, and that evil motherfucker is going to dive for my face and claw my eyeballs out. I know. I know its m.o. I hear the screams of the bunny rabbits in the field as Stratos rips them to shreds with its pointy beak and razor-like talons.
Speaking of rabbits: I saw the biggest f'ing rabbit EVER last week. I thought it was a dog at first. And then I was confused, because I'd never seen a dog's long, floppity ears bounce as it hopped across a field. I figured it out eventually, of course, by which time it was too late to procure a photo-capturing device, or I would show you. For half a second, I considered chasing it--I still fantasize about falling down the rabbit hole, though I'm pretty sure I fell as far as one can go that time Kit and I found the Portals...
In other news, because my parents are out of town for the weekend, I "get" to babysit my ten y.o. sister. Which means that a.) I now have a bunk-mate, as she 'can't' sleep alone and b.) I will probably go see the remake of that Witch Mountain movie. You know: the one with The Rock. Except, in a desperate attempt to be taken seriously as an actor, I think he's going by his given name, Dwayne Somethingorother. Like anyone named "Dwayne" could ever be taken seriously...
The first draft of "House of Doors" is now 40 pages long, but I spent most of the week revising one particular scene. Which bring the total number of pages I'm (mildly) satisfied with up to an astounding 2.
Um... I started a new skin-care regime today. It was designed for Japanese girls; it's basically bleach in a bottle. I'm shooting for Michael Jackson white, sans the concave nose, bizarrely named children, and post-it notes.
I have the most boring existence ever.
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