Is it wrong to undress in front of my elf painting?

ACED MY TAFE COURSE.
~ I am now one multi-skilled woman.
^_^
There's a lot to be said about life, and how life never seems to answer up. WHAT'S THE DEAL? JUST WHAT IS? And what does life look like? And how does life work.
Can we control it, at all, by verbalising our intent and dreams, sending them out there like some kind of stream so Life can just tune into our signal and adjust things accordingly?
Does that mean we have no control? We simply wait. But we have to work at it. We can't stand outside our house one cold, rainy day and scream that we want to win the competition for having the biggest turnips ever, if we are not prepared to dig the patch and plant the turnips and nurture them into existence first.
"Dude, that's way too deep."
I drop my turnips. "You just said dude."
Dragon blows into his teacup with mild irritation, "I know what I said."
My mouth drops open, "And you're drinking tea. From a teacup."
He looks at me, "How else am I supposed to drink it?"
Is this my world? Where coffee goes cold quicker than the frost on my car? Where the only use for the Twilight books is to kill spiders? Where the real things seem to fade and the fantasies seem to materialise and set themselves in stone?
"I'm buying you a skateboard for Christmas," Dragon says as he lifts his feet and warms them in front of the fireplace.
"REALLY? AN ACTUAL SKATEBOARD?!" I exclaim.
"And I'm going to push you down a hill."
"Oh."
It would seem Dragon has angst.
"You're here!"
I turn away from this unpleasantness and see the watermelon bouncing towards me. "Hey, Termeline, what's going down?"
"I heard you finished your course! That's really very smart of you."
"Thank you," I say smugly, for it really is, and shoot a look at Dragon who ignores me.
"Yes!" The watermelon bounces excitedly, "And in honour of this grandiferous event I bought a coffee machine!"
I gasp. "REALLY?! CAN THIS BE TRUE?!"
The melon squeals in delight (which isn't as cute as it sounds), "Yes! Yes!"
My instinctual urges to kick this watermelon whenever it came too close to my space has vanished and is replaced by an overwhelming feeling of... possibility.
"And!" it's over excited voice cuts through my entrepreneurial schemes, "An alarm clock!"
"Oh, that's nice too." But something in it's bright-eyed eagerness has me concerned. Is he hiding explosives?
The watermelon giggles to itself and stares up at me, "and I've set the times so it goes off every three hours, on the hour, six times a day. So you don't forget."
Hmm? I stare at it, "Forget what?"
"My coffee!"
"Come again?"
The watermelon grins as Dragon starts sniggering. "Now that you're a professional barrister, you have to cater to my barristeresque needs. And that's coffee, six times a day!"
"What?" I frown, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And stop making up words!"
"But you must!"
"Make it yourself!"
"I have no hands."
"Pfft!" I glare at it's self-pitying expression, "That's convenient!"
"It is! What else is convenient?" The watermelon looks around a bit as if thinking and I roll my eyes, "Oh yes! That if you DONT make the coffees, the machine will blow up."
"Blow up?"
"Oh yes. And that, of course, if you fail to make them on the exact hour, I have a whole mob of friends who would love to come and meet you!"
Mob of friends? Well this took a weird turn. I try to think up a reasonable explanation for this unexplainable violent outburst, when suddenly Dragon burps and a burst of flames shoot out of his mouth and engulf the watermelon whole.
We stare at each other in an only slightly mortified manner and then turn our attention to the watermelon.
"You've burnt it!" I gape at the round blackened char that is starting to slightly crumble.
"Did I? What a shame," he climbs off his armchair, scoops up the burnt melon and throws it into the fire as if he murders watermelons every day.
"The lessons..." says Dragon as he settles himself back into his chair, "...are two. One..." he peers at me over his monocle, "... don't invite hyperactive fruit into your house. Two..."
He pauses.
I wait, feeling rather annoyed that a yummy watermelon has just been wasted in front of my very eyes.
"... always have a Dragon."

. . , * , . .

What do you have left when it goes?

This one time, fireworks went off and I thought the world was ending.
So I grabbed my lightsaber and ran to the door. I was ready.
But when I yanked it open and glared around defiantly, all I saw was a watermelon sitting on the front door step, as if it had been waiting to take me on a date.
"I'm actually preparing for war," I said, failing to hide my irritation.
It didn't reply and I looked out into the night for the source of all this. Some type of distraction.
"You know, you're kind of early for the star wars."
I glanced down, fairly unsure of what I was hearing, and saw two enormous eyes staring up at me.
"How did you get eyes?" I demanded. "What's the deal with this?"
"I could tell you how early," the watermelon bounced once in what I assumed was excitement, as it was a very enthusiastic bounce. "Shall I?"
"No!" I said angrily.
"But I've been calculating this whole time."
I gave it a look of disgust that masked my disappointment and turned back to my surroundings. Is there no fireworks?
"You look sad," said the watermelon, and I was a bit disturbed to hear sympathy in its voice.
"You look sunburned."
"Really? But I use the cream especially!"
And I looked down once more, and can't describe the absurdity of seeing the watermelon actually turn to the wall as if searching for its reflection. I sighed. Is this the life of a warrior?
Reassuring fruit that they don't have sunburn while trying not to reveal lies in your insults? My head started to hurt at it all, and it was very clear that there were no fireworks.
The watermelon was now muttering to itself about 'Benny' and 'good deals'.
"Ok! You don't have sunburn!" I yelled.
The watermelon turned to me in a great flourish and said: "Of course I don't! I'm a watermelon!" Then flashed a brilliant smile and bounced past me into the house.
[o]_[o]
This one time, I thought fireworks meant war. Now I know that they mean watermelon.

...play me a song to set me free...

Are you going to finish that hotdog?

THINGS IN LIFE

So yesterday I tried to make this:

and it went well, except that I hadn't had enough bourbon to give me patience with the UNTANGLING OF THE WOOL BECAUSE WOOL HATES ME AND LAUGHS AT MY HALF-FINISHED LASER GAME...
and I got wool burn, which has probably happened to no one, ever, so I left it there: half a trap for anyone who dares intrude.
Took photographic evidence of the slugs, and now life makes sense.
~Bliss.
I think they're branching out as I found some meandering around at ten in the evening, and I must say, these slugs are right on.

THIS WEEK IN THINGS:

+ Served cappuccinos with chocolate powdered smiley faces.

+ Studied my drooping tyre and thought hard about pumping it up/ getting it fixed/ buying a new one, but went inside and continued painting.

+ Decided to go out and buy the essentials: underwear, towels and socks. Came home with a pile of clothes. Feel somewhat as if I have achieved something, although on reflection it's probably just hunger.

+ Went grocery shopping and bought six kinds of tea, four of which I have never heard of, can't pronounce and will probably never drink.

+ REALISED THAT ALL MY ENTRIES ARE ABOUT SLUGS AND FOOD, AND SOMEONE SOMEWHERE MAY BE WAITING EXPECTANTLY FOR THE DAY I POST SADLY ABOUT ACTUALLY EATING ONE OF THE SLUGS BY ACCIDENT, SO HERE'S SOMETHING ELSE...

Things you probably know about me because I talk about them all the time:
+ Hearing people speak in different languages calms me down
+ I like cactuses
+ Walking barefoot feels more comfortable to me than wearing shoes
+ My old mobile had the time set to Russian, so I had to always subtract a set amount of hours
+ I like statistics and data and algebra
+ My favourite food is Nachos
+ I used to talk to the moon
+ Boredom made me draw glitter wings on the back of my high school shirt and spend the rest of the year wearing a jumper to cover it up
+ I hate hearing people grind their teeth, and steel rubbing against steel makes my teeth sting
+ I paint faces on forks
+ I have never found a pair of shoes that fit
+ One day I'd like to own a brilliantly painted caravan
+ My favourite country is Britain
+ I have vague plans about living in Marrakech
+ I would do anything for anyone who talks with a Manchester accent
+ Shameless is my favourite TV show

This one time, I thought about having a second cup of coffee. And my brain was all, do it man, but my stomach was all, fuck off, and my brain scoffed at the silliness of my stomach, which made my stomach retaliate in unmentionable ways until my brain was like, dude, the force will always be with you, and this somehow sat well with everything involved.
For the life of me I can't understand what goes on when I'm not paying attention.

U__U"

Is there a break in your step?

Nothing is more real than this,
the realest of what I must resist,
and on countless times I did insist:
"Of course it's nothing, is what this is."

But days turn to weeks and smiles turn to glances,
and reality plays host at giving out missed chances,
and I'd love to have more time, more meaning,
more signs to prove that I'm not dreaming.

Of course you're dreaming, don't you know?
It's never how the stories go,
just sit and watch the moments fly,
like the stab of a wand in your magical eye.

It's all very now.
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