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Okay, I finally figured out where I was during the last few installments.
Noah was teaching me how to dance. *dances around computer* That was for later. We went down the hallway to find the Scrabblers, but they were gone. That's probably around the time Nate woke up to find me at one of the computers in his room.
When waking them up, I tried to do the Gollum voice to wake up the Sleepies, but it didn't seem to work. Calling them Hobbits seemed less than nice first thing in the morning, mad-Samwise-adoration notwithstanding.
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I have no idea how you boys survived, you got almost no sleep.
Someday I'll write up a good long post about it, but I want josh's frelling pictures first. Ken and I have somehow lost a roll of film, so pictures I thought I had are gone.
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I slept plenty, myself. Of course, there is this little matter of not being remembered....but I think I've harped on that enough.
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Mark's pictures are up on foobonic, for anyone who hasn't seen them yet. Haven't captioned them cause foobonic is beign weird, but i'll get it done pretty soon.
Once again I was woken from my peaceful slumber, this time to announce that everyone was going to be heading over to Macaroni Grille for Lunch.
Lunch? But what happened to Breakfast?
Oh, yes, right. I slept through that.
Thus, I was starved, and quickly got out of bed, did a quick presto-changeo, sheared a few extra scraggly whiskers off of my face, and bounded out the door, meeting the rest of the crew just in time to joing the Walking Caravan over to the restaurant.
We walked because, well, you know what happened last time I tried to drive there. This was simple and safe, and thus sane. S, S & S.
After causing the host to just about have a heart attack from our Massive Numbers, we were surprisingly quickly seated, and given our menus - and crayons - with which to entertain ourselves.
Andrea kept calling for us to do a 'plate shares' deal, where everybody orders something different, and thus all get a portion buffet style.
I was tired and hungry, and quite frankly wasn't in much of a sharing mood. Plus I think my hair might have been sticking up - which I mention for no other reason apart from the fact that it probably was. I'm random like that, as you've probably guessed by now. Raspberry Creme.
Anyway, I ordered my own personal bowl of some sort of cheesy pasta, and revelled in the company of others (and my crayons) while I waited on my food.
I do remember Katie mourning her Hard Drive at this conversation, and Josh volunteering to See What He Can Do About It, if she would just send it back to him. I think Katie may have actually squeeled wit delight, but I may be mistaken. But I do remember squealing...
And I'm pretty sure it wasn't in response to Hobbes' many Engineer jokes. There were groans, and there was stunned confusion, and yes, the odd chuckle (some real, some in pity), but not a squeal.
Although there may have been a repeated 'clank'. that was me banging my head against the table.
But then the food came, and we began to partake, and then soon after, most of the Mormons had to go jet to make it to Sacrament Meeting, and the ever-wonderful non-Mormon Olivia would be taking them, out of the sheer kindness of her heart.
There was a brief confusion as of what to do concerning the checks, but it was soon figured out (make Morbo pay for everyone, snicker snicker laugh!), and the LDS were Off To The Races!
The rest of us contentedly ate our meals - I say contentedly, because the source of the Engineering jokes had just left. Plus there was now more tablecloth space for me to draw on with my Crayons. Bliss.
The meal ended, and we all toterred back to the Hotel.
So what were we to do now? One of our leaders and a good sized amount of our crew were now gone.
But then, came the brilliant idea, spoken originally by I Don't Know Who, but it was, nonetheless, a Godsend:
"Let's have group naptime."
Sold.
There were already blankets there, so we just all lay down in a line, shared a few blankies, and all snuggled up in a row together, even as Sarah was protesting that this wasn't 'Fun Enough', and that she wanted to 'Do Stuff'.
Ah, youth. When you get to be My Age, you'll appreciate the beauty and wonders of Nap Time. The availability of such arises so few and far between, that an invitation to proceed with one among such fine people was irresistable to me. Sleep, and Fellowship, all in one neat little package. This, THIS, was what WenchCon was all about.
And yes, someone did call out 'Orgy', but we swiftly put him to death. Or rather To The Pain.
Actually, I think we just said "Shut up, and grab a pillow, because you can't share mine." And that did suffice.
But what is a naptime without a Lullaby? disregarding all of the Freudian notions that having a Naptime-complete-with-Lullaby would have at a "WenchCon", Judy quickly and lovingly sang to us a wonderful Lullaby in Hebrew that we pleasantly regarded as lovely, even as we had no idea what it meant.
But just as the adage tells us to be careful what we ask for, Judy did tell us what it meant, and it happened to be, to my memory, something actually quite morbid and disturbing that I think I may have since banished it out of my memory.
But the melody, and the voice singing it was lovely enough, and I quickly wished that the English would stop, and that she would continue once again in the Hebrew that I can blissfully not understand.
It's like in the Shawshank Redemption when Andy Dufresne plays the record of the cue from The Marriage of Figaro, and Red hears the women singing, and says, "I have no idea to this day what those Italian ladies were singin' about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are better left unsaid. I like to think they were singin' about something so beautiful it can't be expressed in words, and it makes your heart ache because of it."
Red, I know what you mean, man. I know what you mean.
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Ela, what did you sing? *rifles through memory banks for Hebrew lullabies with disturbing lyrics*
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It's nice to have fans. I did sing it, Livvy. And I sang "Seal Lullaby", another tune I made up with stolen lyrics.
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*smacks his head* NOW I remember Andrea's songs, and they were wonderful too. *sigh* That's what I get for writing my account at 6 in the morning. Someone's always bound to be left out
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I love the recaps. They are funny, insightful and embarassingly (usually) accurate. I'm just sorry I missed the lullabies.
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<-----Was sleeping during that entire chapter.
And the strange thing is, I really didn't sleep that much. I netted ten hours of total sleep from the night before I left to the airplane. Ten hours in four days.
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You weren't asleep the whole time, Noah. You left for that end part. You took Jamie and Ben and you went shopping. And that's why I didn't get to give any of you guys a proper good-bye.
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Indeed! I don't know that one . . . maybe it's better that way.
Although really, it's no worse than "Ring Around the Rosie" or "When the Bough Breaks" -- oops, sorry, I mean "Rock-a-bye Baby." A bit less subtle, maybe.
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It's a very pretty melody...and babies don't understand what the words are anyway. I sang it to both my kids.
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Oh, I've sung many lullabies with some rather dreadful words -- more in Yiddish and English than Hebrew. But that's just because I didn't know this one . . .
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Sorry, sorry...new part will be coming shortly. As for the second 'half' of the landmark, well, at this point there will be two additional parts, but I don't know when I'll finish them. All in due time.
But don't worry, consider this dry spell like that time on television between sweeps, when there's no new episodes in what seems like FOREVER - but then they start again, and they're all new and great until the end of the season.
The new season may be starting any day now...check local listings. It may even be tonight...unless some event happens to Pre-empt it, like it did everytime we were promised new Futurama episodes. *sigh*
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“Hominy was dead, but that wasn’t the problem. Her hiccups were getting worse. Her mother encouraged her to eat more, but Hominy refused. When you’re a zombie, there’s only one thing on the menu – human flesh. And Hominy refused to kill anyone. Perhaps her family didn’t care what happened to their neighbors, but Hominy did. She hiccupped again, but her parents took no notice. Their ears had rotted off long ago. Still, they were healthy, well-fed zombies, and Hominy wasn’t. The less she ate, the worse her hiccups got. Hominy sighed, and left the house. She kicked a can down the street and frowned at the hate-filled graffiti scrawled along a fence. It seemed that the neighborhood was going downhill fast. Yesterday, she’d come across two ten-year-old boys beating a little girl so badly that she’d had to take the victim home for her family’s dinner. There was nothing else Hominy could have done for her. And there were drug deals taking place at noon in broad daylight. Hominy shook her head. The most blatant dealer had been a family man who mowed his lawn every Sunday just two weeks ago. Now he was a hardened criminal. Hominy tried to figure out what was wrong. It really bothered her to see how people were hurting each other. Nearly everyone in the suburb had been so friendly when her family had first moved in. Now they were actively nasty to each other. And, with a lump in her throat that nearly squelched her hiccups, Hominy began to form a theory. Each of the people who developed a sudden personality shift had been nibbled by Hominy. No, she couldn’t bring herself to kill anyone, but sometimes in the night she would creep in and take a nibble just to keep herself going. Too late, it seemed, she remembered her granddad’s advice – a living person only nibbled by a zombie would lose part of their conscience. And Hominy could tell him where that conscience went. She carried it with her, and it gave her the hiccups. Realizing what she’d done to her once innocent neighborhood, Hominy lurched forward with despair in her heart. It took her all the way to the bus stop, where she boarded a Greyhound to Minnesota. When she got off the bus, Hominy wandered down the road listlessly. A car slowed, then stopped. Inside was a man who looked her over with hungry eyes. He asked if she needed a ride. Hominy accepted, not caring where the man might take her. She leaned back in the seat and watched the road go by. The driver kept up a soft patter of conversation, telling her how pretty she was and how he bet she’d have a lot of boyfriends in a couple of years. His hand snaked down to rest on her thigh, but Hominy didn’t care. She kept her eyes on the road. Eventually, the driver pulled off at a deserted rest stop. Hominy was nearly sleeping. She heard the driver’s breathing get heavier, but she didn’t open her eyes. He came closer to her, and she could hear a soft gulp. Then the driver was yelling, and retching, and finally he dissolved into heartwrenching sobbing. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” he moaned. Hominy didn’t have any idea what he was going on about until she caught a glance of herself in the rearview mirror. A chunk of her neck had gone missing. And her hiccups were gone, leaving only a strange ache in her throat. As the driver became more and more remorseful, Hominy found that she didn’t seem to care as much about his problems. And that disturbed her. The driver apologized to her for trying to take advantage of her youth and naivete. He mumbled something about losing his job for incidents like these, back when he had thought his clients liked his attentions. But he would help her now, to make up for all the times he’d abused the children he’d run into in his job. Hominy decided to trust him, and told him all about her problems. She couldn’t keep her conscience if she killed, but she would always cause people to become evil if she nibbled their flesh. What’s a zombie to do? Her driver, Max, pulled out his laptop and linked to the internet. He finally found a little-known site called ZombieFamily.org where he could interact with the online community of families who had zombies among them. Through their recommendations, Max connected Hominy with a sympathetic coroner who provided her with the fluids drained from the bodies he worked with. In this way, Hominy was able to maintain her undead loveliness, her human conscience, and her connections with the zombie community. Max offered to take Hominy home, and she accepted. Unfortunately, her family was so happy to have her back that they prepared Max for her Homecoming Feast.”
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I had to add some of my own touches. This was written in about 15 minutes from our notes so I could have something to turn in for my Creativity class lab.
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