Mishy's travels in Alaska

So I took this class in web design, and my prof was all about me messing with the "code" to change stuff around, but I'm all about not fixin' what ain't broke, and leaving all those little letters the way that they are. Maybe they WANT to be like that? maybe my picture doesn't LIKE padding around it. Like it's clostaphobic or something, and HAY. Besides, what's the fun of a code if you don't have a decoder ring? I mean, really?

I used to want to be an artist. An angst ridden artist, with the moodeyness and the dark past, and the solutitude, but then I got myself some solutitude, and some dark things to happen in my past, and, you know, angst ain't all it's cracked up to be, it seems, and now I want to a socor mom.

I am having a real conumdrum.
What if I do something good, and I want to use a personalised adjective, to be cool and so forth, and I can't decide between "Mishy-tastic" or "Mish-a-rific"? What do I do then? Oh, the humanity!

EBay should sell the things that we really want. “Eternal love, $40. Reserve not yet met.” Like that. Or wishes. EBay never sells wishes. Of course, having been four at one point, I would use it to wish for three more wishes and then keep doing that until I had stockpiled enough to go public. Get ready Wall Street, when these babies go public, they won’t know what hit them.

My job says that I serve students in rural and remote districts. One student asked me
“What’s ‘remote’?” and I answer
“It kind of mean’s ‘far away’”.
“Am I remote?” He asked.
“Yup.”
“What do I live far away from?” And you know, I couldn’t’ really answer him, except to say that he lived far away from me, but of course, I live far away from him, so it’s kind of a silly phrase.

Personals website aren’t up to snuff, in my opinion. The questions are so random and broad. Like they ask what his favorite movie is. Who cares? I’m nearing 30, time to do away with the niceties, and just ask if he’ll mow the lawn, help me raise the grandchildren that my parents have been asking me about since I was 5, and say things like “honey, is it just me, or are your legs getting longer and more slender?’

He was very concerned about air pollution. The bumper stickers on his bike said so. He would corner people at parties, scolding them for driving gas-guzzling SUV’s. He biked everywhere, “as a statement” he said.
That and he couldn’t afford a car.

A great addition to my life would be a narrator. Someone with a deep voice who gives melodramtic romance novel comenteries to everything I do.
“Lustfully, she grabbed the casirole dish, and plunged it into the steaming dishwater of the sink, brushing awburn hair form her forhead.” Like that.
because that would encorage me to do a lot more housework.

Assuming that the slip of paper pulled from the fortune cookie had wisdom and foresight, I am to rise to greatness.
I know great women. She throws dinner parties, and each guest has a tiny crystal salt and peppershaker. She hears a rumbling under her SUV’s hood, and so she take out a wrench, and go to work. Gracefully.
She is coy and sexy when she wants to be, and strong and independent when she needs to be.
I am not that woman.
Not yet.
People come to my parties, and I grab lawn chairs to seat them. My car puffs away still on the single oil change it received during it’s 120,000 mile epic journey. I blush and stammer at the mention of intimacy, and cling to the people I love like a cat in a thunderstorm.
But yet, the fortune cookie says I can change.
Thank you fortune cookie.
For starting my on my journey toward greatness.

The first time I fell while rock climbing, I called helplessly toward the heavens, “Somebody save me!”, and waved my fragile little hands as if trying to flag down a celestial bus. Out of the blue came Superman, who scooped up my wilted female body in his big arms. I nestled my tired head against his massive, spandex-covered shoulder.
“Don’t worry ma’am,. As long as there are women in trouble, I will be there to save and protect them.” He flew me to safety, and placed me on the sandy ground like fine china.
But the second time I fell while rock climbing, the Justice league dispatch sent Wonder Woman, who had been in the area giving leadership seminars to a Girl Scout troop.
I lay there, broken and little on the ground, as she stood over me, unimpressed, her hands on her hips.
“You don’t need to be ‘rescued’, you need to empower yourself, and learn from this experience, so that you can feel confident, and can “save” yourself. Instead of enabling you and shielding you from the results of your fall, here is a bag of climbing chalk, and a good climbing harness. Now I’ll be right here spotting you wile you climb your self-empowered self right down that mountain.”
I looked at her. I looked at the climbing harness.
Crap. Where’s Superman?

For focusing in on the interesting rocks in the background, and bluring out the boring scene of the bears fighting. I think it adds interest.