on flying ice and parenthood

good news. it has been two months and it looks like i still hold the same job. in other news, it's winter. cold, snowy, icy winter. today as i was driving downtown, i turned a corner and *SMACK* something slammed into my windshield. it was a piece of ice. don't ask me, i don't know. here's the thing though: it happened twice.

it's almost christmas! and i've been away. i'm sorry. it looks like i've missed blog's birthday. what a terrible mother i am. happy belated birthday, blog.

on the great mr. disney and other things

new job. once again. i develop pictures at a grocery store. woot woot. mostly fun, slightly complicated, often frustrating... good learning experience. i thought i had patience until i took this job.

what else is on the menu?

cinderella. what a fabulous movie that is. from way back, when walt disney himself decided what went into his pictures and what stayed out. when quality was the only important factor. i miss the disney musicals. they don't really do that anymore, i've noticed. maybe they think that musicals are too last century; maybe they want to do a fresh new style. it's fine, i just think that cartoon musicals got a little somethin-somethin over the rest. hand-drawn, too. every frame. you would never catch filmmakers doing that anymore. everything's done on computers now. takes all of the charm out of the films, if you ask me. i'm sure mr. disney would agree.

friends for life, friends for life.
we're not that different at all.
friends till the end.
you've got a friend in me.

love will live. love will last. love goes on and on and on.
this is what makes life divine.
now i'm in a whole new world with you.
that's what makes the world go round.
i know something's starting right now.
in the end i wanna be standing at the beginning with you.
let me be your wings.
i'll never let you go.

on fish and windshield wipers

i feel like i'm always jobless lately. well, you know, in between jobs.

i would like to fly someplace soon. anywhere i guess would be great.

i'm drinking chai.

my car broke recently, but thankfully i have a truck to fill in. terrible on gas, meaning also on the environment and my wallet, but i'm learning to deal.
my truck only has two windshield wiper speeds -- fast and super-fast. today it rained hard enough to warrant using the fast setting without that horrible squeaking sound that the rubber makes when forced across the dry windshield.

the other night i went out for dinner with a friend and i had stuffed sole. i'd never had that before. fish good.

on life.

feeling rage right now. little bit.

on felt feelings

i feel scared and young and proud and static. i feel loved and hated. i feel still and bustling and playful and small. i feel introverted. pliable. risqué. untouched. mature. right. wrong. everything. nothing. i feel pain and bewilderment and indifference. i feel strength. confusion. dominance. optimism.

there is still love in the world.
i'm addicted.

things happen. you just have to roll with the punches. brush it off, start a new day. the world is your oyster. oyster?

Imagination governs the world. - Napoleon

on september

today it is still september. today i worked. on the yesterday of last week, i gave my two weeks notice at work. finding a new job is now one of the first five to-dos on my to-do list. although i'm not sure if i want one. maybe i should just go someplace. i'm not really feeling the whole "here" thing. i might find a new here. don't know which one to pick though. could've gone to school i guess, but it's now too late. too bad, because now i know what i might absolutely want to take. but i don't want to do school yet. i want to be a gypsy. i could do that now, i guess. looks like i might not have anything to do around this here by the end of next week. i should be a gypsy. yes. that sounds great.

as does cake and barbeques. and salami.

i think i'll just pick a place on a map and go there for a bit.

i think i just saw a guy with a scarf on his head.

on pizza and style

i once ate two entire pizzas by myself. it was pretty great.

right now i'm listening to ozzy osbourne. not an entirely characteristic thing for me to do, but hey. you only live once. whooo! whoo.

if i had a million dollars, i would buy steak with it. and go everywhere. and buy steak there too. and then i would eat it.

i want to go to every continent. i want to experience every culture. i want to see all of the landmarks, and then go to the rundown places. and the quirky places. and the places that haven't been corrupted by the tourism industry.

i love the elderly ones who have personality. sass. character. fearlessness. satisfaction. the ones who know what they want. who have lived, and know it. who realize that they are not dead yet. who see that there is still a world to be experienced. who experience it.

on looking up

ask me what the latin means.

on today

i'm the manager now. at my job, which i've had for about a week and a half. don't really know how that happened. owners are totally nuts.

also making headlines today: ben and jerry's was on sale tonight, so i bought two cartons. pretty excited about that.

i just started reading a new book. it's called pawn of prophecy. a friend lent it to me. i'm actually enjoying it quite a bit; it's fantasy-ish, which usually isn't really my thing, but i just whipped right through the first seven chapters. i might go pick it up again, actually. see ya.

oh, also, in case you were wondering, or perhaps didn't notice, i'm not feeling particularly inspired to write tonight. next time, oh next time.

on what i just wrote about

i have a job. it's new. i make coffee, and stuff. i kinda like it.

man, i was going crazy with nothing to fill my days with. and then i found some, ugh, hobbies, thinking being busy would take my mind off the general feelings of inadequacy. and then i started getting money from the government, which was like, worse. but now i have a job of my very own, and things are coming together once again.

ok, so i'll keep up with the hobbies. i like them. i'm just glad that i don't have to depend on them anymore. now that i have day-to-day monotony, i can escape it! isn't that just a thrill a minute?

oh no. there is one downside to this. i hope i don't have to give it up entirely, but i will definitely have to cut down on jumping trains.

on true nature

christy --[adjective]: Like in nature to a train-riding hobo

this is how i would be defined in the dictionary, according to a certain website. fitting, i suppose. maybe i am a train-riding hobo. or was in another life. either way, it certainly sounds interesting.

actually, it is a quite suitable sum-up. for the most part, anyway. a hobo, according to wikipedia, is something of a wandering homeless person with a habit of hopping freight trains, moving from town to town in search of work. something to do. not necessarily a dream, but it has potential. typically, this lifestyle is/was forced upon the less fortunate, showing up especially during the great depression. nowadays, however, with work available all over, in most cases, one could play the travelling hobo card as an excuse to see the world. don't get me wrong, this might not be a forever kind of thing, but it could be a freeing experience.

imagine, no possessions. no roots. no obligations. learning to appreciate the little things. seeing the world through these eyes would, i think, open up the heart. it is of invaluable importance that we understand and appreciate the things that we take for granted.

excuse me please. i think i'll go hop a train.

on a prodigy between kid and grown-up

I found this in one of my old notebooks:

my name is george
jodie has nice teeth
purplish in colour
so i end
my poem

with a poem that says
i'm not repetitive
i'm not repetitive
i'm not
repetitive
my name is george
so i end my poem

circa 2002

on fear and the cosmos

i was just up on the roof. it's aluminum, meaning hot. i was moving a great big antenna with a rake to make the static on the tv go away (not my idea, by the way, i'm just the pawn in this game). don't mourn for me, however, for as you may have guessed, i made it out alive.

it was positively thrilling seeing the world from twenty feet higher. for some reason, when i see the ground from the roof, i'm not afraid of falling, but when i look up, i freeze. i get that furious butterfly feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster and you go up and down and up and down. like i'm afraid of falling into the sky. which, i think, is quite bizarre, since i've never lost my footing and fallen up.

the sky is much farther than the ground. that must be the reason. subconsciously, i must be afraid that if i look at the sky for too long, gravity will suddenly reverse and throw me into the universe. into the ever-changing, unforgiving, great expanse of everythingness just above my head.

i think that's a legitimate enough fear.

memory is a funny thing

the british are coming! the british are coming!

holy coconuts, batman!

there are three little bits missing from the surface of my kitchen counter. a few years back, we bought a coconut. and we couldn't get it open. so we pulled out the hammer, and a nail, and missed the coconut at least three times.

on living... a masterpiece or just a mess

for the past month or so, life has been glorious. the kind of summer that just says to you, "i am summer. hear me roar." living out of my car, moving with the breeze. lovely breeze.
i've kind of been embracing my artistic side, too. drawing. writing. snapping pictures. making music. learning. loving.

and then everything stopped.

it's not about the way he looks. it's about what's inside. and inside is gold too. for me, inside was a wall. i thought if i could loosen up, let down that wall... but all i did was warp the wall. i couldn't let him in. and now too much has happened. he doesn't know me. i don't know me.

what a mess.

thoughts

slowly, steadily, pavement disappears beneath my feet
conquered by each step

there, a house
i wonder for who lives in it
so much life i do not know

pick up the pace

car passes my thoughts
she rushes to find
what she will soon forget

racing myself
i long to see the place unconsumed by need
unconsumed by greed
solitary
secluded
sanctuary

a spider spins her torturous web
she knows only this tree, and that bush
not loss, or lust
i wonder about love

i run away
i run towards
i run to run
i stop

it's art!

This is a piece of modern art that I stumbled upon one day in a chinese restaurant. I loved it so much at the time that I just had to photograph it. Just now, while browsing through my pictures, I've stumbled upon it again and remember why I loved it so much to begin with. Anyway, I just had to share it with the world. So here you go, world, enjoy!

on life and her cruelty

i try to but am sure that i never will understand why things happen. more specifically, i am sure that i never will understand why awful things happen to wonderful people.

the head of a caring and generous family is taken away after months of struggling with cancer.
half of an amazing young couple, the kindest man i will ever know, is claimed by the same fate months before his second child is born.
a treasured wife, mother, daughter, and friend battles for over a year before she, too, succumbs to the disease and misses the transformation of her two young sons into the men that they will become.

these people all had tremendous support, hope and prayers behind them to the very end. everybody believed so hard that "the end" would turn out differently. but it didn't. and i'm here asking why.

why is it that the people who least deserve it are the ones who get it? whatever happened to karma?

i'm afraid that i may never understand life's cruelty. some say that everything happens for a reason; to make us stronger, to guide us later on. but i fail to see how a child will learn life through losing a teacher. i fail to see how a young girl will become stronger by walking down the aisle alone.

my feelings seven hours ago

rain, lovely rain, glorious rain.

one chapter down...

Today is a beautiful day. I don't know if you seen it, but I'm telling you right now, it's beautiful. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the cliches are piling up.

I decided to take advantage of this weather and catch up on some reading this afternoon. So I grabbed a pillow and my most recent 'I've-decided-to-read-this-no-matter-how-long-it-takes-me-just-so-I-can-say-I-read-it-and-perhaps-expand-my-mind-a-little-in-the-process' book and headed out into the sunshine. Where it was warm.

Right now, it is still a gorgeous afternoon. Yet I am not outside. I am, in fact, inside. Turns out that a half a kilo of SPF30 is only enough when it's cloudy. And I suspect that, being a fair-skinned redhead with only half a kilo of SPF30, venturing out-of-doors to take advantage of the sunshine was not exactly the most brilliant of ideas.

And here is where I tell you why.

I only have half a kilo of after-sun.

on art and dissatisfaction

I've always felt like I could be a writer. You know, poems, stories, songs. I'm really good at descriptions and editing. The trouble is that I can't manage to write a story to edit or a find a subject to describe. And I can't write a poem to save my life.

Prime Example:
There once was a girl from the Nile
Who sat in the sun for a while
She started to bake
So she jumped in the lake
And was ate by a big crocodile

Okay, acceptable as a limerick, yet lacking something. Am I wrong?

This little dilemma all started back before I was born when I decided to become artistic. And when I was old enough to move, I did a little dance and called it art. And then, when I was old enough to pick up a crayon, I made a mark on a paper and called it art. And then, when I was old enough to reach the piano, I pushed a few keys and called it art. And now, I am old enough to write, and if I put a few words together I feel like they have no purpose; no meaning. That is, of course, if I can figure out which words to put together.

I seem to be able to write about things that I am not satisfied about, though, so I guess that's a start.

Maybe I'll call it art.

the little prince (by antoine de saint-exupery)

You should read this story.

http://home.pacific.net.hk/~rebylee/text/prince/contents.html

Go there and read it. Or better yet, go to your local library and find the book version. It's so much more charming on paper.

Either way, I would recommend that you begin with chapter one.

on doing nothing

A week and a half ago I had my birthday. It was really nifty.

Yesterday I slept until 6:30. Like, p.m. Not so nifty.

Now I have this great disappointment in myself. As in, if this is how I'm spending my time, my life, I might just as well not have it. Not to say that sleeping until after dinner is a regular occurence, but still. There are more worthwhile things to do than sleep. I can sleep when I'm dead.

I've always felt that I have this sort of responsibility to myself to make something of myself, spend every moment I can doing something that will benefit somebody, learn about something new every day, you know, be a better person. And I feel so terribly guilty when I don't. But I shouldn't. I think. Well, I dunno, maybe I should. I don't like knowing that I've wasted an entire day that I will never get back.

Maybe I'll get over it.

on curses and being hit by trains

i have no job.

this all began about two weeks ago. actually, it began about eight months ago, when i was changing jobs. my former employer had decided to close the shop i was working in, and therefore i was obviously not needed. luckily, i had aquired a second job (at the restaurant) shortly before this was announced, and was able to smoothly transition into only one job once again. and so it was. and it was all sunshine and rainbows (well, figuratively speaking, it was not sunshine and rainbows at all, but its all over now and i don't really want to talk about that), when suddenly, two weeks ago, BAM! i was hit by a train and i lost my job. well, figuratively speaking, of course. the bosses announced that they had decided to close the restaurant. so yesterday was my last day, which means that now, i have no job.

let's just backtrack a little bit here. in the past year, i have held two jobs. and i lost them both for the same reason. now, of course, i have begun to think that i may carry a curse of some sort. i'm sure it's just bad luck, but it is still a curse.

i'm very excited to see what happens next.

may 12. mark it on your calendar.

It's almost my birthday. I like birthdays. I guess.
I plan to do lots of things on my birthday. I'm pretty excited about the whole thing. Although I don't seem to have much to say about it.

restless feet

I am a very undecided person. Very undecided. Huh.

No, I'm not undecided, I just am restless. So I keep making plans. I think that's what it is. I like plans, I wish I could carry them out. Actually, the fact that none of my plans are being carried out is probably what is making me so restless that I have to make more plans. Vicious circle. Incredibly vicious. I am so upset.

On Ballet and Tina Turner

I'm better now.

So I have a plan. I'm going to Whistler. Actually, I've just decided to go get a job on a train, doing all that I love. So I'll be leaving in a few hours I think.

Well, it's been a while since I've been thinking clearly enough to add a post to my blog, so there's probably a bit to catch up on. This past week has been quite exciting for me. On Wednesday a ballet came to town. Yes, a real live ballet, complete with professional dancers and a pompous, yet friendly, director. And I went to it. It was amazing. And I sat in the front row. It was amazing. Then, on Friday, Tina Turner came to town. Alright, she wasn't the real Tina Turner. But she did an awfully good job pretending to be her. I know this because I was there. It was amazing. There was singing. There was dancing. In fact, there were six professional dancers, who were amazing, right there dancing for Tina. Alright, she wasn't the real Tina. But still. And I sat in the very back row. And I enjoyed it. Not quite as much as the ballet, of course. But it was very nice.

I bought some cheese this week too.

{...}

I can't breathe.

The Hockey Game

I went to a hockey game the other night. The Williams Lake team, the TimberWolves, against Prince George. It was intense. See, the T-Wolves were losing by two for the first two periods, but then in the third they scored two goals in like, two minutes. And then they were tied. And it went into overtime. The winning goal was scored by a TimberWolf who, after falling on his knees without losing possession of the puck, reached it with his stick, fell to the ice, and totally got it past the goalie. It was incredible. Really.

Somebody tried to ruin the game for me though. My day, even. She was just this rude, snobby, "everything goes my way or I am just not happy" kind of person. And she had bad hair.

Anyway, about twenty minutes into the game, she and her man come to the row that a couple of friends and I were sitting in. Let me just tell you now that the bleachers were not full. Not even close. You might say half-full. You might even say half-empty. Anyway, so the two of them walk down the stairs like they own the place, look at the seats next to us, look at their tickets, look at us, look at the seats again, and then say, "Uh, excuse us, you're sitting in one of our seats." Because, lets face it, they were the only seats left, and this was important. Really, this should have tipped me off right away, but, being the kind of person that I am, never doubting that everyone has the potential to be a kind, sharing person, it didn't tip me off at all.

So, first period ends. Those people who are there to keep you entertained during the intermissions appear and attempt to entertain us. Then they have a contest. "The section that makes the most noise wins pizza! Yay!" And, while the fun-wreckers next to us remained in their seats and not a sound escaped their lips, the rest of our section was working to win pizza. Which we did. Congratulations to us. Thing is though, when they brought around the pizza, they pretty much didn't have enough for everyone. So, when the guy brought the pizza box to mes amis et moi, there were two tiny pieces left. Not really enough anyway, but wait, it gets better. Psycho-chick literally jumps over us to the pizza man, scoops the two slices, and then says, "This is all that there is? Why is there only two tiny pizzas for this whole section? Look at how small these slices are! This is not a prize!" I'm thinkin, holy smack lady, sorry, insensitive bitch, let's just not talk right now. I'll show you a friggin pizza. Dear god, woman!

Second period. Yay, two goals! Yay, a fight! Yay, the wave! What an excellent game! Meanwhile, psycho-bitch has disappeared to go complain about the pizza thing. End of second period. Cal-Tire people come and assault the spectators with oversized t-shirts, hats and locks (yes, locks, as in those heavy metal things with keys). Then, onto the ice come three people who have won, somehow, a trip onto the ice to get prizes. But lo and behold, who is this person among them? Yes, that's right. It's her. She has a choice; two $50 gift certificates for vehicle repairs at Cal-Tire, or, you can have what's in this box. Of course, she assumes that what is in the box is better than engine work, because, why would she settle for that? And the other two "winners" have the same theory. So they all proceed to open their "gifts." A look of dissatisfaction appears on the woman's face. She's won a mug set. And a gift certificate to Cal-Tire. She shrugs her shoulders and exits the ice, no thank-you's or appreciation of any kind, dragging her mug set behind her. When she returns to her seat, she has the same look. Kind of, "Well, of course I won, but this prize is crap."

I am disappointed in mankind when I encounter people like that. Don't be like that.

on university and decision-making...

I'm at that point in my life where a crucial decision must be made. But I don't know how to make it. See, I have a job, but it's not very fulfilling. Honestly, I bring people food. And the thing is, they really don't appreciate me as much as they truly could. So I feel unfulfilled. My plan, now, is to go to school so that I can do something that could, potentially, make me happy. I would love to be happy.

The only flaw in my plan is unfortunately one that can't be overlooked. I have no idea what I want to do for a living. This makes the application process slightly difficult, as you can imagine.

I took a test a while back to find out what I could do, hoping that perhaps it might give me something to go on. The results? Archaeology, psychology, architecture. These are the areas it gave me. Or be a detective, it says to me. And now, I am supposed to choose one. But see, that's the trouble. I couldn't narrow it down before I took the test. And if you haven't noticed, these options aren't incredibly similar. I realize that I don't have to choose my career based on this if there is nothing there that interests me, but I guess it's easier to choose from a list of four possible careers than a blank page.

That has always been my problem. I can't really make important decisions. I always get a little frightened and don't want the responsibility of ruining my life to fall onto my shoulders, you know, if I make the wrong choice.

Everybody tells me, "Choose a career based on something you love to do. What are some of your hobbies?" To which I respond, "Hobbies? What hobbies?"

Obviously, I must have a couple of hobbies. You would think. But I really can't figure out how to make them into a career. Also, hobbies are what they are because you do them to escape the day-to-day monotony. Anyway, what are my hobbies... let me think a little... Ok. I act. I do like to act. And sing. And really, perform in general. I love performing. But hey, that market is loaded with openings, isn't it? Oh wait, no, I'm lying. It's not. So what if I'm not good enough at it to make it, and then I spend the rest of my life waitressing and trying to break into the biz? I don't think so.

So yes, I do sound very bitter and pessimistic, I know. I'm not really like that. But I'm too much of a realist on this subject I think. It's like, just do what you love, you know? I'm just too scared. Anyway, I want to have a degree in something so that I can fall back on it if necessary. And once again, it comes down to this. I thought, hey, art history could be fun, huh? Or archaeology. That does sound almost appealing.

Anyway, it's getting down to crunch time, and I'm getting a little restless. If I want to go to school this fall, applications are happening now. And I'm missing it. Because really, I'm just a scared little girl. Huh.

my fish, part II

it's true. i have, in fact, aquired for myself a fish of no distinction. congratulations to me. the thing about it is, this fish has no personality. actually, i'm lying. he has a personality. it's just very blah. this fish has no spirit, no spunk. i put a nice little shipwreck in the bowl, and all he ever does is lean on it. no, really. he's a leaner.

i haven't really been able to make friends with the fish. i tried, but he is completely uninterested in having any kind of relationship with me. and for this reason, i can't figure out how to name it. or even if i should. i'm not sure that i have his permission. i actually asked him, but he was all, leaning, playin it cool, you know? anyway, he didn't answer me.

nevertheless, i did have that poll up for a couple weeks, and at this time i would like to announce the winning name. "fiona the destroyer." go figure.

many thanks to all who participated in this poll. now i have a decision to make. do i a) respect the opinions of the fish whom all of my recent efforts on this subject have been dedicated to, or b) say "screw him" and call him fiona? the destroyer? and hope that maybe he'll grow into the name?

ah, screw it. fiona the destroyer it is.

my fish

i really need everybody who may or may not stumble upon this humble blog to vote in the poll down... there... yeah a little to the left... uh huh. that's the one. see, i really can't decide on the fish naming thing. help would be quite appreciated, ok toots? thanks, you're really really great. really. great.

new year's eve 150 miles away

holy smack. (phavorate frase, had to be my first words on my first post of the year.) happy new year y'all! because this blog has not yet become a "must-read" (i'm still holding on to that dream), i'm sure that nobody is actually reading this, and therefore my next comment is likely to be falling on deaf... eyes... but oh, i'm gonna make it anyway.

i hope that your personal new year's celebration was exceptional.

let me tell you about mine. *cue thundercrash... and... BLACKOUT*

fade in on the front of a solitary single-story building with a large sign on the roof reading "Tim Horton's." no lights are on, excepting the small spotlight over the door; the building is deserted. Tim Horton's, that haven which, once, could always be relied upon to satisfy that 3am donut craving, that beacon of hope to many dark strangers with an inability to stay awake in the morning without their daily double-double, is closed. closed. closed. (you know, i've always felt that three's were more dramatic than... not three's.) dark, heavy stormclouds roll in above, accompanied by a loud rumbling that echoes all around (surround sound baby) and the occasional flash of light.

let me just pause for a second and a half to explain to you why the beacon of hope is closed. it's new year's eve. now, back to the story...

*sound fx guy plays that recording of a car with a crappy muffler in the distance.* eventually, carlos (as in "los car," it's spanish), the three-and-a-half-foot-long honda, pulls into the deserted lot in all his rusted glory, carrying with him a couple of passengers. he sits there for a while.

michelle: where the f#!$ is elise? she was supposed to f#!$ing be here thirty-five f#!&ing minutes ago. for f#*$'s sake, we can't just wait here all f###ing night! the f#*$ing place isn't even open!
christy: wow. you said "f#^&" more times than "the" just now. i didn't even know you could do that.
brad: (to himself) she's right, man. elise is way late. dude!
michelle: f*%^.
charlotte. po-tty-mouth.
brad: (to himself) whoa. oh man, dude! i shoulda brought some more drug, i'm like waaay almost empty here... hey, where did all my drug go? whoa! that place is all... dark! wicked.
charlotte: my name is charlotte.
christy: oh look. it is that elise character, pulling into this dark, deserted lot, in a vehicle not her own! oh, that must be that guy she's with!
brad: righteous.
charlotte: hey sweet!
christy: hello elise and strange male character who may or may not have been introduced yet! are you prepared to lead us out to the stranger's house?
elise: yes. please follow.
michelle: f&%$ing rights.
brad: let's go to that booze place, man, i'm totally dry. whoa, dude, look at my hand! *holds hand in front of his face, slowly crossing his eyes* sweet. hey dude, can i drive?
christy: ok!

after a brief stop at the liquor store, the two vehicles begin their long journey to a strange and isolated house 150 miles away.

christy: are we there yet?
michelle: five more f#$%ing minutes.
carlos: we're there!
charlotte: i think we're there.
brad: (to himself) dude, did the car just like, say words... uh? whoa.
charlotte: my name is charlotte.
michelle: you already said that. and we f%^&ing know.
christy: let us proceed into this strange abode together and find out what kind of evening awaits us. michelle, hold my hand please.
michelle: *ad-libs random curse words*

as the unsuspecting victims... uh... people, enter the house, they are greeted by a crowd of people dressed in strange sea-people-related outfits.

captain bob: ahoy, matey's!
hostess: welcome, strangers. my name is hostess, like the cake.
linda: i did not have sexual relations with that woman.
brad: whoa, qualm down dude, nobody said nothing... i think.
travis: i did.
christy: you did say something or you did that woman?
michelle: yeah. be more f$#&ing specific.
travis: (emphatically) yeah!
charlotte: my name is charlotte.
michelle: f&*^ yeah!
hostess: let us eat food and then i shall give you these little books. you can read them one page at a time, and at the end, we can find out who killed what's his face.

fast-forward to much later, after every person is stuffed like a crab... the group sits in the living room and reads the first page of their little books.

captain bob: OOH! i killed what's-his-face!
hostess: alright. now would anybody like to accuse anybody of murdering what's-his-face?
frida: i saw charlotte leaving a store. i think she did it!
linda: i think it was my fiance, travis. he smells fishy.
michelle: f&*%. that's because you live by the f%^#ing sea, you f^$#ing moron.
christy: i think it was captain bob, cuz he was drunk. then again, it could have been me. i do have multiple personalities, and the medication doesn't always work. i'm not mentally stable. maybe it was jane, my other me, although i have no idea who jane is.
brad: dudes, i would like to call carlos to the stand.
hostess: no vehicles in the living room!
brad: whoa. sorry dude, chill.
michelle: whats-his-face f$##ing did it. i f*&^ing saw him!
*beat.*
captain bob: ahoy. i stabbed what's-his-face. i admit it.
hostess: whats-his-face wasn't stabbed. he was shot. remember?
captain bob: oh yeah. *beat.* ahoy. i shot what's-his-face. i admit it.
christy: you're really quite strange.
brad: whoa dudes, something smells fishy here.
michelle: that's because we're right by the f*&$ing sea you f$%#ing moron.
brad: (to himself) righteous.
charlotte: my name is charlotte.
elise: i have a chocolate fountain. yay! let's play in it!
hostess: alright. but first, we must reveal the real killer! it was...

suddenly, the power cuts out.

hostess: AHHH!
christy: AHHH!
charlotte: AHHH!
brad: AHHH dude!
michelle: F%$#!
travis: AHHH!
captain bob: AHHH!
frida: AHHH!
linda: AHHH!
carlos: oy.

suddenly, the power is back on.

hostess: the real killer is... that guy with elise!
that guy with elise: yes, that's right. i did it. and nobody even thought it was me because i am so smooth and greasy. metaphorically speaking, of course. (laughs maniacally.)
elise: alright! sneaky. sneaky. sneaky. (elise, too, believes that three's are more dramatic than... not, three's.) hey, let's go play in my chocolate fountain!
everybody: YAY!

suddenly, it's quarter to midnight! everybody gathers in the other living room to watch the count-down on tv. hostess hands out aluminum pie plates and spoons. the next fifteen minutes are spent watching captain bob, linda, travis, christy, and some new guy try to stick their spoons on their noses. soon...

everybody: TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SIX, SEVEN, FIVE, THREE, TWO, ONE... HAPPY NEW YEAR! BANG BANG BANG!

fade out. the end.

happy new year! make good choices!