Jenny (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} somedaysawriter) wrote,@ 2007-08-07 20:23:00 |
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Prompts-Catch Up
I’ve missed quite a few of these.
You volunteer at a pioneer/colonial village. What's the role you play there and why?
I’d probably be the harried looking pioneer mother, with a brood full of little girls in pinafores and boys in dirty overalls clinging to my legs. Modern suburban women would look at my tired, weary face and wonder how on earth I survived without portable DVD players, Boppy pillows and Online Grocery ordering. The tour guide will be quick to tell the visitors that I die of exhaustion at the quite elderly age of 23.
You've been in stranded in the hot desert with food water and shelter for a day. You're walking in hopes of reaching a town. In the distance you see a mirage (though you don't know it's a mirage) of something wonderful. What is it?
A shady garden with a comfy bench nestled among tall leafy trees. There is a pile of thick books, some throw pillows and a cooler full of raspberry iced tea lying next to a crisp, clear pond.
Oh, and a fully charged satellite phone so I can call for help and get the hell out of the desert.
Invent a new kind of sushi roll, sandwich, or pizza.
I haven’t been able to enjoy pizza since I’d had the kiddos. Red sauce is no longer my friend, so I’d make a special white pizza with a creamy garlic sauce, mushrooms and spinach. Course, even my husband, who has no sense of smell, would want to keep a fair distance from me after I’d eaten that pizza.
Did you have a hideout or clubhouse as kid? If you did, describe it. If you didn't, describe what would have been your ideal one. If you did but you just didn't like yours all that much, feel free to make up one as well.
I think I’ve told the story of my refrigerator box house before. It was wonderful. Fridge boxes were a hot commodity in my neighborhood. I It wasn’t our fridge, I remember that much, but because I was the youngest kid in the neighborhood, the older kids agreed to let me have it. I asked around the neighborhood until I’d found carpet and wallpaper remnants, fabric for curtains, etc. I even made a mailbox. I was big into Little Ponies at the time, and had about a dozen. I made doors and mailboxes for each pony too. Unfortunately, I left the fridge box out in the rain one too many a time, and it disintegrated. I have pictures though. One day, I’ll upload them.
If you were a tall tale character, who would you be and what would you be famous for?
Maybe Johnny Appleseed, because that is the only Tall tale character I can think of right now.
.
“Whazzat?”
“It’s chicken honey. You like chicken.”
“No chicken. Want pop!”
“No popsicles until after you eat your lunch.”
“Want RED pop.”
“After lunch.”
“Blue pop?”
“You can have a pop, any color that you want, after you eat lunch.”
“O-tay….yuck. Yucky poop po.”
“It’s not Yucky Poo Poo. It’s chicken. You love chicken. Ok, it’s not chicken nuggets, it’s leftover chicken from Muma and Daddy’s dinner. It’s got sauce and mushrooms on it. It’s very yummy. Rachael ray says so.”
“Is not chick-can Muma. Is mess.”
1. At your 20th high school reunion, your teen nemesis throws her martini
on you and accuses you of making a fortune from making fun of her in your
books. What do you do?
See, this is why I stopped writing my YA. I was terrified of this exact scenario. Still, if it were to happen, I would remind my nemesis (nemesi?) that I’m sorry she/he was personally offended by what was obviously a work of convoluted fiction, and perhaps, if he/she is so quick to anger, he/she might want to seek some psychiatric help.
2. You've become your town's Dear Abby. Somebody sends you a problem that
you just have no answer for. Everyone knows it's you, and your reputation
and paycheck are on the line. What is the problem and how do you handle
it?
Dear Ms. Moniker,
I have one lifelong ambition. I want to dance! However, as I was born without a big toe on either foot, I find that I am terribly clumsy and do not have the grace or endurance required to be a prima ballerina. It’s hard to go En pointe without toes. I can’t imagine a career outside of dance. If I can not dance, I will surely die. What will become of me?
-Stubby
Dear Stubby,
While toes, especially big toes, come in handy, they are not necessary for a fiull and happy life, and they are not necessary for dancing as well.
Oh, never mind. I ran out of steam on that one.
3. Millie pulls a Michelle Tanner and comes home with a miniature donkey.
You decide to keep it and rent it out to birthday parties. You need a
costume for yourself and the donkey and a theme for the business. What
are they?
I would call the Donkey Horace, because I’ve always wanted a Donkey named Horace. Our schtick would be that I am a poor peasant from the Middle Ages, off on a pilgrimage, because it would be all, like, educational and stuff for the kids. I’d show up for the party ripe with my own filth, crawling with fleas and missing several teeth. I would bathe Horace with the garden house, shovel fistfuls of cake into my mouth with my grubby hands, and pick fleas off my clothing for goody bag gifts. I would also beg for alms, and remind the partygoers that they are all hell-bound heathens, destined to burn for all of eternity.
4. An eccentric friend of the family leaves you her haunted Irish castle.
Of course she has a clause that you can't truly own the castle until
you've spent the night there. Who do you choose to spend the night with
you – Hermione, Scooby Doo, or Don Knotts?
Oh, Don Knotts of course. Hermione would annoy the crap out of me, and with Scooby Doo on board, you know the Harlem Globetrotters can’t be far behind, and I don’t want any basketball dribbling on my priceless haunted Irish floors. Plus Don is certain to draw the ghosts ire, and they’ll exhaust themselves trying to lure him into a series of hilarious bobby traps, and they’ll forgot all about little old me.
5. You've accidentally created an amazing fruit/vegetable hybrid in your
garden. What is it and what does it taste like?
Well, it turns out all the pesticides I’ve been using to keep the house and yard free from pesky bugs is the cause of my new hybrid vegetable, growing where I’ve haphazardly scattered some tomato seeds a few months ago. I suspect this because the tomato, or as I am calling it, the toma-glo™ is a vibrant, pulsating fuchsia, and any insect that dares land on it or any of its leaves is instantly incinerated. I do not think this particular veggie should be eaten, but perhaps if there were one planted at the edge of every garden in America, we would do away with EEE and every other bug transmitted disease. Sure, we might damage the ecosystem, but it really is a small price to pay for a bug-free backyard.
I’ve missed quite a few of these.
You volunteer at a pioneer/colonial village. What's the role you play there and why?
I’d probably be the harried looking pioneer mother, with a brood full of little girls in pinafores and boys in dirty overalls clinging to my legs. Modern suburban women would look at my tired, weary face and wonder how on earth I survived without portable DVD players, Boppy pillows and Online Grocery ordering. The tour guide will be quick to tell the visitors that I die of exhaustion at the quite elderly age of 23.
You've been in stranded in the hot desert with food water and shelter for a day. You're walking in hopes of reaching a town. In the distance you see a mirage (though you don't know it's a mirage) of something wonderful. What is it?
A shady garden with a comfy bench nestled among tall leafy trees. There is a pile of thick books, some throw pillows and a cooler full of raspberry iced tea lying next to a crisp, clear pond.
Oh, and a fully charged satellite phone so I can call for help and get the hell out of the desert.
Invent a new kind of sushi roll, sandwich, or pizza.
I haven’t been able to enjoy pizza since I’d had the kiddos. Red sauce is no longer my friend, so I’d make a special white pizza with a creamy garlic sauce, mushrooms and spinach. Course, even my husband, who has no sense of smell, would want to keep a fair distance from me after I’d eaten that pizza.
Did you have a hideout or clubhouse as kid? If you did, describe it. If you didn't, describe what would have been your ideal one. If you did but you just didn't like yours all that much, feel free to make up one as well.
I think I’ve told the story of my refrigerator box house before. It was wonderful. Fridge boxes were a hot commodity in my neighborhood. I It wasn’t our fridge, I remember that much, but because I was the youngest kid in the neighborhood, the older kids agreed to let me have it. I asked around the neighborhood until I’d found carpet and wallpaper remnants, fabric for curtains, etc. I even made a mailbox. I was big into Little Ponies at the time, and had about a dozen. I made doors and mailboxes for each pony too. Unfortunately, I left the fridge box out in the rain one too many a time, and it disintegrated. I have pictures though. One day, I’ll upload them.
If you were a tall tale character, who would you be and what would you be famous for?
Maybe Johnny Appleseed, because that is the only Tall tale character I can think of right now.
.
“Whazzat?”
“It’s chicken honey. You like chicken.”
“No chicken. Want pop!”
“No popsicles until after you eat your lunch.”
“Want RED pop.”
“After lunch.”
“Blue pop?”
“You can have a pop, any color that you want, after you eat lunch.”
“O-tay….yuck. Yucky poop po.”
“It’s not Yucky Poo Poo. It’s chicken. You love chicken. Ok, it’s not chicken nuggets, it’s leftover chicken from Muma and Daddy’s dinner. It’s got sauce and mushrooms on it. It’s very yummy. Rachael ray says so.”
“Is not chick-can Muma. Is mess.”
1. At your 20th high school reunion, your teen nemesis throws her martini
on you and accuses you of making a fortune from making fun of her in your
books. What do you do?
See, this is why I stopped writing my YA. I was terrified of this exact scenario. Still, if it were to happen, I would remind my nemesis (nemesi?) that I’m sorry she/he was personally offended by what was obviously a work of convoluted fiction, and perhaps, if he/she is so quick to anger, he/she might want to seek some psychiatric help.
2. You've become your town's Dear Abby. Somebody sends you a problem that
you just have no answer for. Everyone knows it's you, and your reputation
and paycheck are on the line. What is the problem and how do you handle
it?
Dear Ms. Moniker,
I have one lifelong ambition. I want to dance! However, as I was born without a big toe on either foot, I find that I am terribly clumsy and do not have the grace or endurance required to be a prima ballerina. It’s hard to go En pointe without toes. I can’t imagine a career outside of dance. If I can not dance, I will surely die. What will become of me?
-Stubby
Dear Stubby,
While toes, especially big toes, come in handy, they are not necessary for a fiull and happy life, and they are not necessary for dancing as well.
Oh, never mind. I ran out of steam on that one.
3. Millie pulls a Michelle Tanner and comes home with a miniature donkey.
You decide to keep it and rent it out to birthday parties. You need a
costume for yourself and the donkey and a theme for the business. What
are they?
I would call the Donkey Horace, because I’ve always wanted a Donkey named Horace. Our schtick would be that I am a poor peasant from the Middle Ages, off on a pilgrimage, because it would be all, like, educational and stuff for the kids. I’d show up for the party ripe with my own filth, crawling with fleas and missing several teeth. I would bathe Horace with the garden house, shovel fistfuls of cake into my mouth with my grubby hands, and pick fleas off my clothing for goody bag gifts. I would also beg for alms, and remind the partygoers that they are all hell-bound heathens, destined to burn for all of eternity.
4. An eccentric friend of the family leaves you her haunted Irish castle.
Of course she has a clause that you can't truly own the castle until
you've spent the night there. Who do you choose to spend the night with
you – Hermione, Scooby Doo, or Don Knotts?
Oh, Don Knotts of course. Hermione would annoy the crap out of me, and with Scooby Doo on board, you know the Harlem Globetrotters can’t be far behind, and I don’t want any basketball dribbling on my priceless haunted Irish floors. Plus Don is certain to draw the ghosts ire, and they’ll exhaust themselves trying to lure him into a series of hilarious bobby traps, and they’ll forgot all about little old me.
5. You've accidentally created an amazing fruit/vegetable hybrid in your
garden. What is it and what does it taste like?
Well, it turns out all the pesticides I’ve been using to keep the house and yard free from pesky bugs is the cause of my new hybrid vegetable, growing where I’ve haphazardly scattered some tomato seeds a few months ago. I suspect this because the tomato, or as I am calling it, the toma-glo™ is a vibrant, pulsating fuchsia, and any insect that dares land on it or any of its leaves is instantly incinerated. I do not think this particular veggie should be eaten, but perhaps if there were one planted at the edge of every garden in America, we would do away with EEE and every other bug transmitted disease. Sure, we might damage the ecosystem, but it really is a small price to pay for a bug-free backyard.
