they say it's your birthday, it's my birthday too, yeah.

[enamoured]

So I got bored and took a purity test. I scored 90%--geez, wonder why. [g] See, boredom = Candice doing stupid things like this.

Everyone's being quiet on AIM tonight, therefore I feel compelled to beg for someone to message me. Something. Anything. Even if it's just "PIE!", because, well, pie is good.

I'm thinking of making my dad a mix CD for his birthday on Saturday, as he raids my MP3 collection for my older songs quite a bit. But I want to include some more recent music on the mix. And after scanning my MP3s, I can't find a thing. So, um, what could I put on there? Mind you, my dad loves Motown, folksy stuff from the '70s, and generally anything not rap/hip hop, full of overt innuendo, or four-letter words. Reccomendations? Anything?

I've been working on this... thing since early January or so. I've made mentions of "The Red Shirt Diaries" or RSD in a few entries, and this would be it: my stupid self-insertion into the Lost world. And this would just be the first part, just to see if anyone would actually read it and junk. [g] And if no one cares, well, you suck. I kid, I kid. So!

Day One
Feeling: PANIC
Sanity level: GONE.

I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I HATED FLYING.

Let's review: I was in Sydney. Getting ready to leave. Got on plane. Was nervous—as expected. Tried to read. Spent most of the first thirty minutes nervously drawing on napkins. And blowing gum bubbles. And snapping said gum bubbles. Loudly.

So things are going okay for a little while, and in the seat in front of me some guy is yammering about doing surgery and this flustered looking dude in a hoodie passes me, and I'm on my third Sprite of the flight when the plane friggin' convulses. It just jumps. At first, I was like, "Okay, this kind of crap happens on planes, it's just turbulence, deep breaths." So I went back to doodling on the napkins, sipping my Sprite and nearly choking on a piece of ice when ALL OF A FRIGGIN' SUDDEN THE PLANE BREAKS.

The BACK of the STUPID plane BROKE. Snapped. AIR is rushing out and somehow the guy in the seat next to me straps the oxygen mask over my face because by this time, I'm hyperventilating like a mo-fo and screaming. Trust me, hyperventilating into an oxygen mask on a plane leads to blacking out.

So then, next thing I know, I wake up and I'm facedown in sand. SAND. My first instinct is to be super-angry, but then I realize hey! I'm not dead! WHOOO! This temporary relief lasts for all of .5 seconds when I look up and it's CARNAGE ON THE BEACH. Flaming plane parts, people screaming, and some guy in a dress shirt and tie coming up to me and asking if I'm okay. Dude looked kind of pained himself. Then some obnoxious pretty boy runs by and asks me if I have any pens. "For what?" I ask. He says something about CPR and something else, and I just slowly backed away.

DAMN PLANE. Why did I pick the discount airline?!

---------

And, finally, I leave interested parties with a picture of Jude Law.

Comments

[waderapspoorly.livejournal.com]

Hey that story looks familiar!

[patentpink.livejournal.com]

Nice story! I'd like to read more.

Also, niiiiice picture.

[patentpink.livejournal.com]

So I got bored and took a purity test.

Hmm, I just took the purity test, too. But I scored 44%. I had a lot of fun when I was in college. Hee. ;)

[mellowdee.livejournal.com]

My dad likes The Beatles and CCR. That's about as much as I know. :\ HAHA. He also likes Simon and Garfunkel. My mom likes The Mamas and The Papas though.

[brittuhknee.livejournal.com]

Would he like any of the croony Journey songs?

I got a 78%!

[mzspearz.livejournal.com]

*giggles*
Discount airline.
*snort*