All right, it's been an awful long time since I've tried a guest blog, so I'm going to give a quick run-down on the concept once again:
My first time through this blog, I would occasionally let other people blog for a day in my place. Those were my guest bloggers. However, very few of my guests felt comfortable blogging for some reason, so this time through I made GB more of a writing exercise/gimmick. Instead of having other real people blog for me, I am inviting a character from one of my plays, books, or story ideas to share their thoughts with the world. In other words, it's a chance for me to explore these characters by writing in their voice about things that are important to them. Or, as is often the case with blogging, things that aren't terribly important but happen to be passing through their minds anyway. (I have yet to decide if this is a cool idea or a lame idea)
As such, please keep in mind that any opinions expressed by a Guest Blogger do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the FOMW writing or editorial staff. Also, if you're planning to point out the fallacy of how some of these people have access to a computer or the Internet in their time or place in history, well, calm down and quit thinking so hard.
Today's guest blogger is a young lady named Brindolynn Englehart. Brindolynn lives in a small village on the edge of the Tirrabar Valley. She lives with her father, the town's bladesmith, and her twelve-year-old cousin Gab. And I can't think of anything more to say by way of introduction, so I'll just turn it over to Brin now.
********************
Here's a phrase I've never really understood: "her knight in shining armor."
I understand the phrase in the sense that I know what a knight in shining armor is, despite the fact that no such man has passed through our village in my lifetime. It's an image that has survived adventure stories and similar tales that have existed long before there were any villages in Tirrabar. I also understand that the phrase is often used in a romantic context, when a young lady (around my age, perhaps a bit older) finds her own personal hero, the man who will ride into her life and save her from...something or other (it's never quite clear in most instances) before taking her off into a lifetime of wedded bliss.
On second thought, perhaps it's not accurate to say I've never understood the phrase. Perhaps I ought rather to say I'm not sure why the knight with his lovely, polished, unscathed armor has ever been an attractive image to young women through the ages. Please don't misunderstand me. I've a friend at school who often tries to convince me that I ought to remain unmarried my entire adult life, that I need no man to make my life complete, that I would be happier without one at any rate. I know there are girls who share this opinion. Believe me, I am not one of these girls. In fact, my friend's father is not the greatest of men, and I suspect that's where her bias against all things romantic stems from. My father is a wonderful man, and I know I shall be lucky to marry anyone who is half the man that he is. (Sorry, gentlemen, but my father has set the standard fairly high)
I also have no resistance to the "knight" idea. Who doesn't want to be married to a hero? Besides, in a town that is in a constant state of conflict with our nearest neighbors and is located next to a forest filled with Dark Creatures, it's a bit impractical to ally yourself with a coward for life. Poets use such lovely language, but I'd find their company to be woefully inadequate should a goblin wander its way into the village. (Not that that happens often, but still) I like to think that I can take care of myself--one of the perks of being the bladesmith's daughter is that most of the time I have spent with my father through the years has involved weaponry to some degree--but I admit it's also nice to imagine a match in which I don't have to. When I love, I want to feel safe with the man, as I'm fairly certain all women do.
My chief complaint with the phrase in question is the condition of the man's armor. Why is it shining? I understand that the picture may be more pleasing to the eye if the hero returns gleaming in the sunlight. Ever since I've been a little girl, however, I've always been bothered by the idea of a knight in pristine condition. Hasn't the man found anything better to do with his time than polish his armor?
There is very little metal armor in Desderan. We have no true knights and we have no visitors. Even the merchants have stopped coming through for some reason. Most likely alarmed by the reputation of the Dark Forest, I suppose. And admittedly, "Dark Forest" doesn't sound all that inviting, does it? Our village is protected by the Defense Corps, and the men in the corps wear heavy leather clothing for protection. While actual violent conflict, either with Ivallian troublemakers or creatures of the forest, is rare, these men are constantly training to become more able defenders and protectors for when they are needed. I've seen them return from training sessions, I've watched them spar in swordplay tournaments put on for the amusement of the village. The mere practice of battle often leaves these men--many of them boys my age--scuffed and bruised, and their leather armor takes quite the beating. They do their best to mend and clean it, of course, but one look at a Corpsman and you can tell immediately that he has had at least a taste of battle.
What, then, is to be said of our gallant knight in neat, clean, new outerwear. Why isn't he at least a little bit dirty? Has he found no reason to use the sword at his side? Has he found no monsters to fight? No homeland to defend? I know enough of the world to know that fighting men are always in need virtually everywhere. Has he simply found no cause that he has deemed worthy of his attention? How then do I know that he will fight for my cause should the situation arise? Does the knight wish me to be impressed with the state of his protective wear? How do I know he will be able to handle anything that threatens me if he has never found an opportunity to tangle with a dragon capable of denting his ornamented breastplate?
When my "knight" arrives, I expect to find him a bit battered and bruised. I expect his armor to be tarnished and his weapon well-used. I will hear of the victories he has won, and he will not be afraid to tell of the times he has been the vanquished, for they will have all served to make him a stronger warrior. I will know that he will fight for me--no, rather he will fight with me--not because he says he will but because his actions have shown that he will. I will not fall for any man because he looks impressive but because he is impressive.
After all, if I must be cast as the princess in this metaphor, I see no reason why I should expect anything less. And if ever I find do myself locked in a castle and guarded by a beast like the heroines in the stories of our youth, and if a knight should come riding to my rescue in his gleaming, flawless armor, I would probably tell him to turn around and send someone else. I'll wait around a bit longer for my own knight. The one who comes with dents, chips, and bruises that I can be proud of.
Showing posts with label Guest Blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest Blogger. Show all posts
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, August 1, 2010
v2, d132: WOF#3: Guest Blogger #3
Joseph "Old Joe" Harrison is a cattle herder who lives pretty much anywhere from Wyoming to Texas to California, looking for work wherever he can get it for himself, his brother Booger, and his sister Peggy. Joe isn't really that old, but he is the oldest of the Harrison siblings, so "Old Joe" it is.
If you're trying to puzzle how a cowboy from the 1800s has access to the Internet and blogging, all I can say is: you need more interesting things to puzzle over.
*****
Evenin', folks.
Most folks would say it's mighty late as I write this here note. I know I still got a good few hours ahead of me. I tend to stay up later'n most people, even most other cow pokes. It ain't my night to stand watch. Booger's doin' that. I just ain't a man who gets to fallin' asleep too easily. It ain't necessarily 'cause I'm anxious or anything, I just don't sleep a lot. Never have, probably never will.
Now, generally speaking, I like it late at night. The air's a bit cooler, the stars are a bit brighter, and everybody else is already sleepin' so it's the only time of the day I got to really spend much time with my thoughts. It's usually a mighty peaceful, gratifying time. Sometimes, though, when just the wrong mood hits, it'll switch from "being alone" to "being lonely" quicker than a bee-stung piglet. Those nights, you're tempted to wake somebody up just so you can talk to another person, maybe play a quick game, enjoy a cup of coffee and look for shootin' stars. Tonight just happens to be one o' those sorta nights, so I'll do my best to keep from gettin' too melancholy on ya.
Actually, the writin' kinda helps.
Truth is, it ain't hard for a cowboy to get lonely. When you're ridin' a trail, you got the guys on your team (and the gal, if your kid sister is workin' with ya), your horses, and a whole bunch of cows. Whole bunch of cows. Now, it's great work, and there are all sorts of positives you can get out of it, but a satisfying social life ain't always one of 'em. Now sure, you're like as not to like the rest of the guys, but when you don't see nobody else for weeks at a time but the same group of guys, you can get on each other's bad sides pretty dang easily. (Those are the times when I like late nights alone with myself) And when you do make it to a town here or there, there are plenty more people, but you ain't like them. Talkin' to cows for nine months out of the year has a way of changin' a man, and it ain't so easy to blend in with city dwellers when you do get the chance.
You know what keeps a cowboy from goin' completely batty when he's out on the land day in and day out? Storytellin'. Singin', too. We're always tellin' stories. True stories, tall tales, ghost stories, you name it. Talkin' about people we met once, or towns we been through. Adventures we had on the trail. A rotten pot of beans. Anything we can think of to keep our minds off the what and the where, and sometimes even the who, of everythin' around us. I think a lot of people don't realize how important singin' and stories are. Stories ain't just a thing you give to your kids to distract 'em when their bodies are gettin' sleepy. I've seen stories that've kept two guys from killin' each other. I've lived through a night of freezin' rain and wind and floodin', and we kept each other laughin' like maniacs singin' one bawdy song after another, actin' like total fools, but keepin' one another alive. Music and stories can make connections 'tween people who don't have no business connectin'. One o' the first things the Good Book says is that it ain't right for man to be alone. Well, stories is a way of makin' sure a man ain't ever alone. He tells a story, and he remembers the person who told it to him, and it's like they're lookin' up at the same stars that night. Even the Good Lord told lots of stories, as I find myself remindin' all them cityfolk who tell their kids it ain't civilized to sit around a fire at night and tell ghost stories to other adults. Shoot, most of them high-and-mighties look like they haven't sang a song out loud with other people in twenty, thirty years. And let me tell you, folks, there's something right sad in that.
Ya know, kids get it, and we were all kids once, so I think there's somethin' right about it. Kids are always tellin' stories, playin' games like they're people from stories. Kids just start singin', don't matter who's around, who's listenin', if they're sittin' down to a meal, if they're readin' a book, or if someone is tryin' to tell 'em something. When one of 'em wants to sing, he sings. And if there's another one close by, she sings, too. And until the song's over, they're friend, even if they wasn't before. Now I wanna know, folks: what's wrong about that?
So here's what I'm gonna leave with ya: start tellin' stories. Tell 'em to your wife. Tell 'em to your friends. Tell 'em to your folks. Tell 'em to anybody you wanna connect with. And tell 'em to your kids. Tell those kids every story you know, and when you run out, you make up some more. You tell 'em so that they love stories so much, nobody can't never talk 'em out of lovin' stories. Let 'em know it's all right to laugh, even if you gotta be serious most of the time. You do that, and you teach 'em not to be afraid of nobody or nothin', 'cause no matter what happens to 'em or where they find themself in this world, they're always gonna be only a short story or a silly song away from people they love. Far as I can see it, that's just about the only way any of us is gonna keep from goin' nuts before we slip on outta this world and into the next one.
If you're trying to puzzle how a cowboy from the 1800s has access to the Internet and blogging, all I can say is: you need more interesting things to puzzle over.
*****
Evenin', folks.
Most folks would say it's mighty late as I write this here note. I know I still got a good few hours ahead of me. I tend to stay up later'n most people, even most other cow pokes. It ain't my night to stand watch. Booger's doin' that. I just ain't a man who gets to fallin' asleep too easily. It ain't necessarily 'cause I'm anxious or anything, I just don't sleep a lot. Never have, probably never will.
Now, generally speaking, I like it late at night. The air's a bit cooler, the stars are a bit brighter, and everybody else is already sleepin' so it's the only time of the day I got to really spend much time with my thoughts. It's usually a mighty peaceful, gratifying time. Sometimes, though, when just the wrong mood hits, it'll switch from "being alone" to "being lonely" quicker than a bee-stung piglet. Those nights, you're tempted to wake somebody up just so you can talk to another person, maybe play a quick game, enjoy a cup of coffee and look for shootin' stars. Tonight just happens to be one o' those sorta nights, so I'll do my best to keep from gettin' too melancholy on ya.
Actually, the writin' kinda helps.
Truth is, it ain't hard for a cowboy to get lonely. When you're ridin' a trail, you got the guys on your team (and the gal, if your kid sister is workin' with ya), your horses, and a whole bunch of cows. Whole bunch of cows. Now, it's great work, and there are all sorts of positives you can get out of it, but a satisfying social life ain't always one of 'em. Now sure, you're like as not to like the rest of the guys, but when you don't see nobody else for weeks at a time but the same group of guys, you can get on each other's bad sides pretty dang easily. (Those are the times when I like late nights alone with myself) And when you do make it to a town here or there, there are plenty more people, but you ain't like them. Talkin' to cows for nine months out of the year has a way of changin' a man, and it ain't so easy to blend in with city dwellers when you do get the chance.
You know what keeps a cowboy from goin' completely batty when he's out on the land day in and day out? Storytellin'. Singin', too. We're always tellin' stories. True stories, tall tales, ghost stories, you name it. Talkin' about people we met once, or towns we been through. Adventures we had on the trail. A rotten pot of beans. Anything we can think of to keep our minds off the what and the where, and sometimes even the who, of everythin' around us. I think a lot of people don't realize how important singin' and stories are. Stories ain't just a thing you give to your kids to distract 'em when their bodies are gettin' sleepy. I've seen stories that've kept two guys from killin' each other. I've lived through a night of freezin' rain and wind and floodin', and we kept each other laughin' like maniacs singin' one bawdy song after another, actin' like total fools, but keepin' one another alive. Music and stories can make connections 'tween people who don't have no business connectin'. One o' the first things the Good Book says is that it ain't right for man to be alone. Well, stories is a way of makin' sure a man ain't ever alone. He tells a story, and he remembers the person who told it to him, and it's like they're lookin' up at the same stars that night. Even the Good Lord told lots of stories, as I find myself remindin' all them cityfolk who tell their kids it ain't civilized to sit around a fire at night and tell ghost stories to other adults. Shoot, most of them high-and-mighties look like they haven't sang a song out loud with other people in twenty, thirty years. And let me tell you, folks, there's something right sad in that.
Ya know, kids get it, and we were all kids once, so I think there's somethin' right about it. Kids are always tellin' stories, playin' games like they're people from stories. Kids just start singin', don't matter who's around, who's listenin', if they're sittin' down to a meal, if they're readin' a book, or if someone is tryin' to tell 'em something. When one of 'em wants to sing, he sings. And if there's another one close by, she sings, too. And until the song's over, they're friend, even if they wasn't before. Now I wanna know, folks: what's wrong about that?
So here's what I'm gonna leave with ya: start tellin' stories. Tell 'em to your wife. Tell 'em to your friends. Tell 'em to your folks. Tell 'em to anybody you wanna connect with. And tell 'em to your kids. Tell those kids every story you know, and when you run out, you make up some more. You tell 'em so that they love stories so much, nobody can't never talk 'em out of lovin' stories. Let 'em know it's all right to laugh, even if you gotta be serious most of the time. You do that, and you teach 'em not to be afraid of nobody or nothin', 'cause no matter what happens to 'em or where they find themself in this world, they're always gonna be only a short story or a silly song away from people they love. Far as I can see it, that's just about the only way any of us is gonna keep from goin' nuts before we slip on outta this world and into the next one.
Friday, June 11, 2010
v2, d92: Guest Blog #2
Watch about 10 seconds of this video and you'll get a small glimpse of the euphoric pandemonium that struck the streets of Chicago this morning as the Blackhawks held their official Stanley Cup Championship parade and victory rally. Estimates are that close to two million people showed up. Unbelievable.
(No really, watch about 10 seconds. You get the idea pretty quickly, but it's an awesome sight to behold)
One of those nearly two million people was today's guest blogger, a seventeen-year-old Blackhawks fanatic from Metro Valley, Iowa, who threatened her big brother within an inch of his life if he didn't drive with her to Chicago to take in the festivities. Her name is Stacey, but her last name is protected because it's actually a "secret identity." Her crime-fighting name is Slapshot, and she's got the low-down on the Stanley Cup from a superheroic Blackhawk fan's perspective.
(As always, views and opinions expressed by FOMW Guest Bloggers may or may not reflect that actual views of the FOMW staff)
**************
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE WOOOOOOOOOONNNN!!!
It's been two days, and I swear I haven't slept more than eight hours, total, since Patty Kane went five-hole on Michael Leighton to end the most awesome series in Chicago Blackhawks history! After forty-nine years of waiting, the Stanley Cup is finally ours!!!!!!
People just don't understand how hard it is to win that thing! The last time the Hawks even played in the Stanley Cup Final, I wasn't born yet. My brother was two. The last time in my life we even had a team that was good enough to even THINK about the Stanley Cup, I was three! As you can see, I've been waiting a LOOOOOOONG time for this!!
So of COURSE I made my big brother drive me to Chi-Town for some deep dish pizza--oh, and the best parade EVER! It was CRAZY! There were SO many people, and everyone was SO happy and having SO much fun!! Most of us had given up hope we'd EVER win a Stanley Cup about five or six years ago. It was like we were all in the same huge, really awesome dream. It almost didn't feel real until the boys finally pulled up in bright red double-decker buses, with Coach Q holding that beautiful silver trophy over the crowd. I was part stoked and part terrified. I screamed as loud as I could, "DON'T DROP IT!!!" (You know, those idiots in Dallas actually DID that once?? Dropped it from the top of a house into a swimming pool and DENTED it! DENTED THE STANLEY CUP!! Hmph! Glad they haven't won it since!) Anyway, there's no way he heard me, but he didn't drop it, so it was okay.
By the way, I LOVE THIS TEAM! Like, not just the Blackhawks, but Patty, Buff, Niemi, Soapy, Soupy, Brent, Duncan, Steeg, Smoke, Johnny T, ALL of the guys! Even Hossa and Kopecky! I never DREAMED I could love any guy who used to wear a Red Wing on his chest, but I can!
Speaking of Hossa, he looked so happy to finally get his hands on that thing! It was almost cute. It probably would have been cute, if not for that BEARD!
Oh. My. Gosh. Those BEARDS! For those of you who don't know, hockey players don't shave in the playoffs!! It's so gross! You can barely recognize them when they're skating around the ice with the Cup when it's all over! I mean, it's a great tradition, and I love it, but dang it was nice to see some of my boys looking like their old selves again on the streets of Chicago!
Ugh. Hang on. My brother wants to say something. He won't leave me alone, so I'm going to let him type something.
******
Hi. I'm the Iron Lung, and I'm a super hero. And I have to say that Chicago pizza is SO GOOD! That's all. Here's my sister again.
******
Wow. Thanks for that, bro. That was a winner.
ANYWAY, I remember about six years or so ago, when Daddy sat me down and explained to me that I would probably never get a chance to be a Chicago Blackhawk. Like, ever. I was SO CRUSHED! I think I cried the rest of the day, and then I just got mad for like two months, and then eventually I realized he was right, and I kind of got used to it. Then, about two years ago, I decided that, maybe it was true that I couldn't BE a Blackhawk, but that couldn't stop me from MARRYING a Blackhawk someday! I will get my hands on that Cup one way or another, believe me!
I was convinced that I was going to be Mrs. Stacey Kane for a while, but then last summer, Patty got a little...crazy...SO I started to look at my other options. I was thinking about Steeger for awhile. Then, today, he did this:
So, yeah, that may not be happening any more. I don't know if Buff is attached to anybody or not, but that dude is tough! He and I would be such an awesome team! Taking it to 'em on the ice, then fighting crime together at night, our own dynamic duo of hockey awesomeness! We could be, like, Buff and Basher, or something. (I'd be Basher) Although I have no idea how in the world you get BUFF-glen out of "Byfuglien," LOL. (Actually, I think it's Norwegian. So there's that.) And our archenemies would probably be, like, Chris Pronger. Or Danny Carcillo. Ooh, or both of them together! I'd probably never try to tangle with Pronger, but I'm pretty sure I could take that Carcillo twerp. And Buff can obviously take Pronger. Cuz he already did.
Anyway, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup! We're awesome! It feels SO GOOD!!! I totally can't stop smiling!
Crud. I gotta go. Some evil cowboy named Huevos Rancheros is apparently attacking people at the zoo and trying to free animals, or something like that. Sigh. Villains are so dumb. Why would you pick "Ranch Eggs" as your villain name?
I'll bet even Pronger would come up with something better than that.
(No really, watch about 10 seconds. You get the idea pretty quickly, but it's an awesome sight to behold)
One of those nearly two million people was today's guest blogger, a seventeen-year-old Blackhawks fanatic from Metro Valley, Iowa, who threatened her big brother within an inch of his life if he didn't drive with her to Chicago to take in the festivities. Her name is Stacey, but her last name is protected because it's actually a "secret identity." Her crime-fighting name is Slapshot, and she's got the low-down on the Stanley Cup from a superheroic Blackhawk fan's perspective.
(As always, views and opinions expressed by FOMW Guest Bloggers may or may not reflect that actual views of the FOMW staff)
**************
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE WOOOOOOOOOONNNN!!!
It's been two days, and I swear I haven't slept more than eight hours, total, since Patty Kane went five-hole on Michael Leighton to end the most awesome series in Chicago Blackhawks history! After forty-nine years of waiting, the Stanley Cup is finally ours!!!!!!
People just don't understand how hard it is to win that thing! The last time the Hawks even played in the Stanley Cup Final, I wasn't born yet. My brother was two. The last time in my life we even had a team that was good enough to even THINK about the Stanley Cup, I was three! As you can see, I've been waiting a LOOOOOOONG time for this!!
So of COURSE I made my big brother drive me to Chi-Town for some deep dish pizza--oh, and the best parade EVER! It was CRAZY! There were SO many people, and everyone was SO happy and having SO much fun!! Most of us had given up hope we'd EVER win a Stanley Cup about five or six years ago. It was like we were all in the same huge, really awesome dream. It almost didn't feel real until the boys finally pulled up in bright red double-decker buses, with Coach Q holding that beautiful silver trophy over the crowd. I was part stoked and part terrified. I screamed as loud as I could, "DON'T DROP IT!!!" (You know, those idiots in Dallas actually DID that once?? Dropped it from the top of a house into a swimming pool and DENTED it! DENTED THE STANLEY CUP!! Hmph! Glad they haven't won it since!) Anyway, there's no way he heard me, but he didn't drop it, so it was okay.
By the way, I LOVE THIS TEAM! Like, not just the Blackhawks, but Patty, Buff, Niemi, Soapy, Soupy, Brent, Duncan, Steeg, Smoke, Johnny T, ALL of the guys! Even Hossa and Kopecky! I never DREAMED I could love any guy who used to wear a Red Wing on his chest, but I can!
Speaking of Hossa, he looked so happy to finally get his hands on that thing! It was almost cute. It probably would have been cute, if not for that BEARD!
Oh. My. Gosh. Those BEARDS! For those of you who don't know, hockey players don't shave in the playoffs!! It's so gross! You can barely recognize them when they're skating around the ice with the Cup when it's all over! I mean, it's a great tradition, and I love it, but dang it was nice to see some of my boys looking like their old selves again on the streets of Chicago!
Ugh. Hang on. My brother wants to say something. He won't leave me alone, so I'm going to let him type something.
******
Hi. I'm the Iron Lung, and I'm a super hero. And I have to say that Chicago pizza is SO GOOD! That's all. Here's my sister again.
******
Wow. Thanks for that, bro. That was a winner.
ANYWAY, I remember about six years or so ago, when Daddy sat me down and explained to me that I would probably never get a chance to be a Chicago Blackhawk. Like, ever. I was SO CRUSHED! I think I cried the rest of the day, and then I just got mad for like two months, and then eventually I realized he was right, and I kind of got used to it. Then, about two years ago, I decided that, maybe it was true that I couldn't BE a Blackhawk, but that couldn't stop me from MARRYING a Blackhawk someday! I will get my hands on that Cup one way or another, believe me!
I was convinced that I was going to be Mrs. Stacey Kane for a while, but then last summer, Patty got a little...crazy...SO I started to look at my other options. I was thinking about Steeger for awhile. Then, today, he did this:
So, yeah, that may not be happening any more. I don't know if Buff is attached to anybody or not, but that dude is tough! He and I would be such an awesome team! Taking it to 'em on the ice, then fighting crime together at night, our own dynamic duo of hockey awesomeness! We could be, like, Buff and Basher, or something. (I'd be Basher) Although I have no idea how in the world you get BUFF-glen out of "Byfuglien," LOL. (Actually, I think it's Norwegian. So there's that.) And our archenemies would probably be, like, Chris Pronger. Or Danny Carcillo. Ooh, or both of them together! I'd probably never try to tangle with Pronger, but I'm pretty sure I could take that Carcillo twerp. And Buff can obviously take Pronger. Cuz he already did.
Anyway, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup! We're awesome! It feels SO GOOD!!! I totally can't stop smiling!
Crud. I gotta go. Some evil cowboy named Huevos Rancheros is apparently attacking people at the zoo and trying to free animals, or something like that. Sigh. Villains are so dumb. Why would you pick "Ranch Eggs" as your villain name?
I'll bet even Pronger would come up with something better than that.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
v2,d77: Bachelor Bloggin #2/Guest Blog #1
Last night's strategy for surviving temporary bachelorhood involved Tarvis, an entertaining Flyers/Canadiens game, a large pizza with pepperoni, beef, bacon, black olives, and mushrooms, and the Indian blockbuster Kites at the movies. Enjoyed the movie; I'm astounded they managed to make a 2 hour movie with something like 4 pages of dialogue. (/exaggeration) They sure do love their montages in Kites. Why have a kiss...when you can have a kiss surrounded by a montage? Why show a scene once...when you can show it in its entirety twice?? And by all means, if you can work a good old fashioned wild west-style Mexican standoff, complete with saloon, into your movie, I think you pretty much have to do it.
Entertaining love story that was all over the charts in terms of content. Great dance sequence, great police chase sequence, great wild west shootout, great mobster-style gunfighting, great shadow puppet scene. And then some. It felt like the movie was trying to take a page from every successful Hollywood film ever made, but the result was generally pretty fun, if not entirely original and occasionally a tad on the slower side. The only other foreign films I'd seen in the theater were Passion of the Christ and The Host. Seems like the sort of thing you ought to do once a year if you're going to live in a major, international city like Houston, though.
Speaking of the game last night, you really need to check out this shift from Flyers' captain Mike Richards last night. Montreal had come into Philly and took the raucous Flyers' crowd right out of the game with an early goal and a dumb Philadelphia penalty. During that penalty kill, Richards rips the game right out of their hands. Old-time hockey, coach. Beautiful. And au revoir, les Habitants.
In other news, I think "So Far, So Bad" is one of the most listenable songs Five Iron ever wrote. Man, that ditty is catchy.
*******
Okay, last year on this blog I'd occasionally take a break and introduce a friend or family member to take my place as a guest blogger for that night. I loved it. I thought it was fun to get a different perspective and a different voice than my own on here from time to time. Most of my guest bloggers got fairly stressed out about it and weren't happy with what they wrote. Oh well.
Nevertheless, I've decided to re-institute Guest Blogging for FOMW. Rather than stress out real people, however, I've decided to use the feature as a writers' exercise. Thus, all of our guest bloggers will be fictional characters from one of my plays, stories, or books. It's good practice, I think, to try to think and speak from another voice and another point of view. So, if you'll indulge me, I'd like to see where this leads.
And if you won't indulge me, well, stop reading. See you back here tomorrow ;-)
My first guest blogger is a guy I first met in a basement somewhere in Shawnee, Oklahoma. He's since moved to Metro Valley, Iowa, where he's currently hard at work at world conquest. Yeah, he's evil, but then, so are roughly 1/3 of my friends on Facebook, so whatcha gonna do?
Please welcome Full of Misshapen Words' first guest blogger, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov.
(As always, the views expressed by Guest Bloggers do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of anyone at the FOMW editorial staff)
*****************
Hello, Internet! Thank you for reading the mad blogging style of yours truly, criminal mastermind and dancer extraordinaire Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov! What is that, you say? You have not heard of me? Well, that is all right. You will have heard of me very, very soon! Or wait, now you have heard of me, and very, very soon, you will have been hearing much more of me! Or at least, more people than have already heard of me will soon have been hearing much more of me very, very soon. And why? Because I am now on the Internet! And soon, with your help, I am going to be the undisputed ruler of the entire world!
Now, I have prepared a short FAQ, because I am sure you have questions, and I already know what they are, and I already have answers for them. This is because I am efficient, which is one reason I will be an excellent ruler-of-the-world-er.
Q: Nikolai, why do you want to rule the world?
A: Well, that is a good question. I will give you a scenario: let us say you have gone to the grocery store to do some shopping. Say you want something important, like tortillas, or fruit juice, or Lucky Charms, or a Rotisserie chicken. Incidentally, I love Rotisserie chicken. It's like buying a chicken you don't have to cook! One of my earlier ideas for world domination involved raising my own Rotisserie chickens right outside my evil lair, and then I could sell them directly to the people. Take out the shipping company and the grocery store all together. Cutting out the middle man, da? I can offer same product for lower price! And then all the people love me, and I become known as the Rotisserie Chicken King, and pretty soon I have enough money to buy the United Nations. It was such an excellent plan. However, I could not find anyone who was willing to sell me live Rotisserie chickens to raise. They would only sell me the already-killed kind. Somewhere out there, Corporate America has a stranglehold on the Rotisserie chicken market, and they are not sharing! They even try to go so far as to tell me there's no such thing as a live Rotisserie chicken! Fortunately, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov was not born yesterday. They do not fool me...and one day, they will answer for their deceit, their lies, and the rude tone of their customer service employees over the telephone!
I don't know if this answers the original question or not. Moving on!
Q: You have now convinced me that you are needing to rule the world. I am all gung-ho about that. How can I help that to happen?
A: The answer is really very simple, but it will require dedication, commitment, patience, and a home computer. I, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov, officially declare myself to be President of the World.
Now, you need to go onto one of those searching thingies on the Internet, like Lycos or something, and type in "President of the World." Somewhere on the list of webbing site results for that search, you should find this blog. You will click on the linking to this blog. Then you will do it again. And again. And you will tell all of your friends to do it, too. Soon, my self-proclamation as the World's President will rise, rise, RISE to the top of the results list! Soon, we will be the #1 web entry for the term "President of the World," and the world will sense the enormous support behind me and will realize that it would be futile to oppose me! The only ones we may have trouble with will be other bloggers. Bloggers are always foiling my evil schemes. So, when you see a blog start to say bad things about Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov, President of the World, I want you to go on their site and leave comments telling them they are foolish and ignorant and possibly little girls. After a week or so of such bombardment, I do not think we will have any more trouble from the rest of the Internet. Once there is no one left to challenge my authority, the world will be mine!
Q: But what if that doesn't work?
A: Meh. It will be all your fault, and we will no longer be Facebook friends. So do not fail me!
Q: But Nikolai, when you are the undisputed President of the World, what is in it for me?
A: Well for starters, I'm going to find those Rotisserie chicken farmers and take them out. That will mean better chicken prices for everyone the world over! I am fairly certain this solves the problem of world hunger, da?
Q: But how can one man, even a strong, handsome, charismatic, wise, and punctual man such as yourself, possibly rule the entire world? I mean, that's a lot of stuff to keep track of!
A: True. There will be some delegating of responsibilities. For example, I plan to fall in love with and marry a female ninja. Partially because you don't mess with ninjas, and partially because I've always had a thing for ninja girls. Ever since my days in Junior College. Remind me to tell you that story sometime! I will also hold a reality television challenge show called "Who Wants to Rule South America," where I will give contestants a chance to win the right to be my right hand everywhere south of Texas. Not only will this be a fantastic means to pick out a trustworthy henchman, I think it will also be a smash-hit in the ratings. People love these reality shows, da? I mean, I know I just can't stop watching Project Runway, America's Got Talent, and that Bobby Flay guy, who will be my emissary over the northern half of Africa. I will personally rule over America, Canadia, Europe, and South Africa, and with an iron fist! As for Australia, I plan to strike a deal with the indigenous kangaroos. I'm pretty sure they're very anxious to take back control of their country. Then, we'll turn the entire island into a mobile island, and I'll have an army of kangaroos with boomerangs that I can dispatch to anywhere in the world!!
You see, I really have thought this out.
Q: When you rule the world, can I have a pony?
A: No.
Q: Will you at least kiss my baby?
A: Of course! Everybody loves babies!
Q: Well, your plan is pretty much perfect. Congratulations on your upcoming reign of terror over the entire planet!
A: You think too small. Just wait until you hear my plans for the Moon! We are going to put big rockets on it and drive it around the solar system. If anybody tries to cause trouble and manage to elude even my kangaroos, my ninja bride, my reality show dictator, and Bobby, they are going to get a face-full of moon! That, my friends, is going to leave a mark!
Thank you for your time, your support, and your love. I look forward to ruling over you and your descendants for years to come.
Entertaining love story that was all over the charts in terms of content. Great dance sequence, great police chase sequence, great wild west shootout, great mobster-style gunfighting, great shadow puppet scene. And then some. It felt like the movie was trying to take a page from every successful Hollywood film ever made, but the result was generally pretty fun, if not entirely original and occasionally a tad on the slower side. The only other foreign films I'd seen in the theater were Passion of the Christ and The Host. Seems like the sort of thing you ought to do once a year if you're going to live in a major, international city like Houston, though.
Speaking of the game last night, you really need to check out this shift from Flyers' captain Mike Richards last night. Montreal had come into Philly and took the raucous Flyers' crowd right out of the game with an early goal and a dumb Philadelphia penalty. During that penalty kill, Richards rips the game right out of their hands. Old-time hockey, coach. Beautiful. And au revoir, les Habitants.
In other news, I think "So Far, So Bad" is one of the most listenable songs Five Iron ever wrote. Man, that ditty is catchy.
*******
Okay, last year on this blog I'd occasionally take a break and introduce a friend or family member to take my place as a guest blogger for that night. I loved it. I thought it was fun to get a different perspective and a different voice than my own on here from time to time. Most of my guest bloggers got fairly stressed out about it and weren't happy with what they wrote. Oh well.
Nevertheless, I've decided to re-institute Guest Blogging for FOMW. Rather than stress out real people, however, I've decided to use the feature as a writers' exercise. Thus, all of our guest bloggers will be fictional characters from one of my plays, stories, or books. It's good practice, I think, to try to think and speak from another voice and another point of view. So, if you'll indulge me, I'd like to see where this leads.
And if you won't indulge me, well, stop reading. See you back here tomorrow ;-)
My first guest blogger is a guy I first met in a basement somewhere in Shawnee, Oklahoma. He's since moved to Metro Valley, Iowa, where he's currently hard at work at world conquest. Yeah, he's evil, but then, so are roughly 1/3 of my friends on Facebook, so whatcha gonna do?
Please welcome Full of Misshapen Words' first guest blogger, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov.
(As always, the views expressed by Guest Bloggers do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of anyone at the FOMW editorial staff)
*****************
Hello, Internet! Thank you for reading the mad blogging style of yours truly, criminal mastermind and dancer extraordinaire Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov! What is that, you say? You have not heard of me? Well, that is all right. You will have heard of me very, very soon! Or wait, now you have heard of me, and very, very soon, you will have been hearing much more of me! Or at least, more people than have already heard of me will soon have been hearing much more of me very, very soon. And why? Because I am now on the Internet! And soon, with your help, I am going to be the undisputed ruler of the entire world!
Now, I have prepared a short FAQ, because I am sure you have questions, and I already know what they are, and I already have answers for them. This is because I am efficient, which is one reason I will be an excellent ruler-of-the-world-er.
Q: Nikolai, why do you want to rule the world?
A: Well, that is a good question. I will give you a scenario: let us say you have gone to the grocery store to do some shopping. Say you want something important, like tortillas, or fruit juice, or Lucky Charms, or a Rotisserie chicken. Incidentally, I love Rotisserie chicken. It's like buying a chicken you don't have to cook! One of my earlier ideas for world domination involved raising my own Rotisserie chickens right outside my evil lair, and then I could sell them directly to the people. Take out the shipping company and the grocery store all together. Cutting out the middle man, da? I can offer same product for lower price! And then all the people love me, and I become known as the Rotisserie Chicken King, and pretty soon I have enough money to buy the United Nations. It was such an excellent plan. However, I could not find anyone who was willing to sell me live Rotisserie chickens to raise. They would only sell me the already-killed kind. Somewhere out there, Corporate America has a stranglehold on the Rotisserie chicken market, and they are not sharing! They even try to go so far as to tell me there's no such thing as a live Rotisserie chicken! Fortunately, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov was not born yesterday. They do not fool me...and one day, they will answer for their deceit, their lies, and the rude tone of their customer service employees over the telephone!
I don't know if this answers the original question or not. Moving on!
Q: You have now convinced me that you are needing to rule the world. I am all gung-ho about that. How can I help that to happen?
A: The answer is really very simple, but it will require dedication, commitment, patience, and a home computer. I, Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov, officially declare myself to be President of the World.
Now, you need to go onto one of those searching thingies on the Internet, like Lycos or something, and type in "President of the World." Somewhere on the list of webbing site results for that search, you should find this blog. You will click on the linking to this blog. Then you will do it again. And again. And you will tell all of your friends to do it, too. Soon, my self-proclamation as the World's President will rise, rise, RISE to the top of the results list! Soon, we will be the #1 web entry for the term "President of the World," and the world will sense the enormous support behind me and will realize that it would be futile to oppose me! The only ones we may have trouble with will be other bloggers. Bloggers are always foiling my evil schemes. So, when you see a blog start to say bad things about Nikolai Oshgoshbgoshnikov, President of the World, I want you to go on their site and leave comments telling them they are foolish and ignorant and possibly little girls. After a week or so of such bombardment, I do not think we will have any more trouble from the rest of the Internet. Once there is no one left to challenge my authority, the world will be mine!
Q: But what if that doesn't work?
A: Meh. It will be all your fault, and we will no longer be Facebook friends. So do not fail me!
Q: But Nikolai, when you are the undisputed President of the World, what is in it for me?
A: Well for starters, I'm going to find those Rotisserie chicken farmers and take them out. That will mean better chicken prices for everyone the world over! I am fairly certain this solves the problem of world hunger, da?
Q: But how can one man, even a strong, handsome, charismatic, wise, and punctual man such as yourself, possibly rule the entire world? I mean, that's a lot of stuff to keep track of!
A: True. There will be some delegating of responsibilities. For example, I plan to fall in love with and marry a female ninja. Partially because you don't mess with ninjas, and partially because I've always had a thing for ninja girls. Ever since my days in Junior College. Remind me to tell you that story sometime! I will also hold a reality television challenge show called "Who Wants to Rule South America," where I will give contestants a chance to win the right to be my right hand everywhere south of Texas. Not only will this be a fantastic means to pick out a trustworthy henchman, I think it will also be a smash-hit in the ratings. People love these reality shows, da? I mean, I know I just can't stop watching Project Runway, America's Got Talent, and that Bobby Flay guy, who will be my emissary over the northern half of Africa. I will personally rule over America, Canadia, Europe, and South Africa, and with an iron fist! As for Australia, I plan to strike a deal with the indigenous kangaroos. I'm pretty sure they're very anxious to take back control of their country. Then, we'll turn the entire island into a mobile island, and I'll have an army of kangaroos with boomerangs that I can dispatch to anywhere in the world!!
You see, I really have thought this out.
Q: When you rule the world, can I have a pony?
A: No.
Q: Will you at least kiss my baby?
A: Of course! Everybody loves babies!
Q: Well, your plan is pretty much perfect. Congratulations on your upcoming reign of terror over the entire planet!
A: You think too small. Just wait until you hear my plans for the Moon! We are going to put big rockets on it and drive it around the solar system. If anybody tries to cause trouble and manage to elude even my kangaroos, my ninja bride, my reality show dictator, and Bobby, they are going to get a face-full of moon! That, my friends, is going to leave a mark!
Thank you for your time, your support, and your love. I look forward to ruling over you and your descendants for years to come.
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