Dear Work3:

“Where’s my ice, kiddo?”  He looked thoroughly confused.

“Oh, Seth Johnson kindly got it for you.  Sweet kid didn’t think I could handle it.  He’s waiting outside.”

“Super.  I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Oh joy.” Summer giggled and the two blondes behind Mr. Dodd scowled at her, and then followed him out the door.

“What happened to you?” Summer asked.

“I threw Seth in the water.”  Carly replied nonchalantly.

“Why the hell’d you go and do that for?  He’s a total babe, and rich on top of it all.”

“He’s scum, and I hate him.”

“So wait,” Summer began with her high pitched northern accent, “He’s floating around out there with Mr. Dodd’s-”

“What the hell?” Mr. Dodd bellowed deeply.

“Guess he found his ice.” Carly laughed and propped her feet on the counter.  “Poor Seth, I almost feel bad for him.”  She heard an array of angry cussing, and shouting, and soon all was silent.  The front door swung open this time, and Seth appeared in the doorway.

“God you’re so hot.” He grinned, and shook his head like a dog.  He stood at around six foot one, with a long torso, complete with a sculpted stomach sporting six pretty little square abs.  His hair brushed to the side, and was just long enough to reveal searching green eyes.  His charming pearly white smile made most girls go weak at the knees, yet it made Carly simply want to knee him.  “You have to admit.  We’d make gorgeous babies.”

“Get away from me and my baby maker.” Carly was seething with spite.

“Aw baby don’t do that to me.”

Carly decided it was best to stop talking to him, she was only feeding fuel to the flame, and she wanted nothing to with this spoiled rotten little rich brat.  Some people go through life having everything they want handed to them without a second thought.  Other people work hard for everything they own.  Carly considered herself among the latter group, and Seth among the former.  Until he showed her some solid evidence that he cared for someone or something other than himself, she wouldn’t give him the time of day.

“Go on a date with me.”

Let alone give him a date.

“Okay.”

“Really?” He questioned unbelievingly.

“No.” She replied and picked up the broom so she could begin sweeping the floor that hadn’t really needed sweeping. 

“Fine, princess.  I’ll leave you alone for today, but I’m not giving up.  You’ll want me one day.”

“Keep telling yourself that, stud.”

“Oh! What is this?  A nickname? My life is complete.”  He crossed his hands over his heart and pretended to swoon out the door.  He continued to stumble backwards one dramatic step at a time and the edge of the dock was getting closer and closer. 

Only three steps away.

Two steps.

One single step left.

HONK.

He turned around to greet a spicy little red head at the wheel of her equally ridiculously expensive sport boat that daddy undoubtedly shelled out the cash to buy.

“Hey, cutie.” She said, and batted her heavily coated eyelashes.  Carly briefly wondered why her make up wasn’t bleeding down her face.  She looked like a wedding cake, minus the sweet part.  Actually, minus everything save for the layers of icing.

“Hey Abby.”  Apparently he knew her.  Carly was just glad to be rid of the moron.  That’s right, she said to herself, those are your kind.  Get together, get drunk, have sex and go make spoiled brat kids.

He mounted the boat, and waved hopefully to Carly, but she slammed the door in his face.  She watched out the window as they sped away completely ignoring the ‘No Wake’ signs posted everywhere.  Carly was convinced no one on the lake was capable of reading due to the fact that not a single one of them abided by those signs.  It was for that reason they were constantly moving up and down up and down.  She had gotten used to it.

After the boat had disappeared Carly and Summer returned to their normal tasks around the store.

“Boat.”  Summer called out as she spotted one of the maintenance guys’ Call 22 sailboat.

“Oh that’s just Eric.” Carly said, and walked outside to greet him.

“Well hello Miss Carly.” Eric said happily as he spotted her.  He was a rather short guy, probably only about five foot ten inches, and incredibly friendly.  Eric was built with massive arms and chest mostly due to manual labor.  He was around nineteen and not the brightest crayon in the box.  He had a heavily coated southern accent, a golden tan, and blonde hair that tended to stick up a little.  Eric was an all around good-guy, however the intended politeness usually came across as a bit creepy.  Carly talked with him a little of the happenings around the marina.  Before Carly knew it she was complaining about Seth’s earlier appearance.

“Oh I’d like to pop that Seth a good’un right in the jaw.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” She agreed.

Carly walked back into the building and let Eric commence pumping his own gas.

“Is he here on that ghetto rigged Catamaran P.O.S. he took me out on last week?”  Summer grumbled loudly when Carly entered.

“No, he’s got the Cal 22 out. Why?”

“Oh, he near killed me on the thing.  I was like just gunna take a little cruise on it, you know?  Perhaps I could work on my tan.  Yeah right! The damned mast fell down and he had to paddle us in.  It was like the worst experience ever.”

Carly laughed, “Sounds traumatizing.”

“You have no idea.”

Eric wandered into the dock looking confused.  He dove into his pocket for a crumpled envelope filled with even more crumpled dollar bills and pried apart two fives.  He started mumbling about the price of his gas, but kept a smile the entire time.

“Uhm,” Summer looked at him curiously, but gave him his total.

“Well don’t you forget my employee discount, now.” Eric reminded Summer.

“Eric, you don’t have to remind me like every time you come in here. I know that I work with you.”  She didn’t even attempt her fake laugh for him.

“So, how many gallons is that?  I have to know, you know.  It better be even, or I dunno how I’m gunna put the oil in.  It has to be just right.”  Summer ignored his ramblings, and Carly informed him that the gallons would be labeled on the pump.  She boosted herself to sit on the white counter top, and Eric set his oil beside her.

“Well ladies I guess I gotta be off.”

“Alright see ya, Eric.”

“Yeah bye.” Summer said dismissively.

Eric walked to the front door and rested his hand on the doorknob.

“Um, Eric.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You forgot your oil.” Carly said swinging it in the air.

“Oh right.”

He grabbed the bottle and walked out the door, stumbled onto his boat and awkwardly sailed away.

Dear Work2:

“Can you believe them?” Carly Carson was furious when she returned to the gas dock.  She slammed the broom on the floor and sunk into her chair behind the cash register with a huff.

“Well yeah, kinda, I’m like super jealous of your ass.”

“Thank you Summer, but that really isn’t the point.  That rich boy and his pathetic little friends are always looking at me like I’m some kind of meat on display.”

“Ew, can you be like a super hot dress on display?  Meat smells funny.”

“Ugh, Summer that isn’t the point.”

“Oh.” She said and then returned to manicuring her nails, “Well, I still think you should be a dress or something.”  Summer was beyond the typical teenage female.  She was a natural blonde, tall, and skinny.  Her facial features, however, set her apart from other girls.  She had high, soft cheekbones, and lush lips she used to bend and break many a beau.  Her eyes were a vibrant sapphire blue, and when those babies glossed over with materialized tears be prepared to give in because Summer Daniels got what she wanted exactly when she wanted it.  She’d gotten this job only because her daddy was a friend of the owner, and he’d hoped she would gain some character through it.  The only thing she did gain was more tips, arrogance, and the ever-popular alcohol hook up.

Carly, however, got the job by kissing ass to everyone around her, and putting up with people like Seth Johnson who thought they owned the world.

“Well he’ll never own me.” Carly mused aloud.

“Who? What, you mean like a prostitute or something?” Summer popped her Pepto-Bismol-pink Bubble Yum bubble gum, “Nah, you don’t have the bone structure to be hooker, you’ve got great boobs though.”

Carly rolled her eyes.  Summer was great when you wanted something to do on the weekends, but her conversational skills lacked a little.  The back door to the dock swung open and an overweight little man breeched the threshold.  A layer of fat hung over his swim trunks and he had two smokin’ hot blondes, in pieces of cloth barely passing for bikinis, on either arm.

“Hey there what can I help you with?” Summer switched to customer mode, and seemed to gain a personality or at least three more brain cells.

“Well if I had a third arm I’d tell you exactly what you could help me with, pretty lady.”  Summer forced a fake laugh.  She was great at those.

“Well darn, how about I just show you where the sunscreen is; your lady friends are looking a little crispy.”  Both girls rushed to the little mirror on the sunglasses stand, and shoved one another in order to better see their own reflection.

“No that’s alright, I’m just getting a few bags of ice, sweet cheeks.”  He allowed the girls to argue for the moment.

Carly rolled her eyes.  Usually she would request as to whether he needed help getting the ice to his boat, but his hands were clearly full.  Plus, she was getting sick.  She grabbed the keys to the ice chest and walked over to the door.  “Two twenty pound bags of ice coming right up.  Gotta keep that beer cold, eh Mr. Dodd?”

“You got it chicky.”  He laughed heartily, and his big belly shook with vigor.  Carly went to open the chest and set the two metal locks on top of it.  She bent over after checking to make sure Seth was out of sight, and returned with forty pounds of frozen water.  She closed the chest with her foot, and as she turned to leave, feeling the cold push against her bare skin, she bumped into someone.

“Here let me help you with that.”  Seth greedily attempted to lighten her load and brushed his rough hands against her tightened arm muscles, but she protested.

“No I’ve got it, now unless you need something go away.  Actually, now that I think about, I don’t care if you need something.  Go away anyways.”  She heaved the ice up to get a better grip and he stepped in her pathway, “Seth move or I’ll drown you.”

“Oh dear, I love it when you’re angry.”

“I love it when you’re bloody.  Get out of my way this is cold.”

“Nipples hard?”

“UGH!  I’m going to hurt you.  Get the hell out of my way.”

When he didn’t move a sly grin caressed her misleadingly angelic features.  She pouted her lips, and sighed.  “Well, I suppose it is a little heavy.  Maybe you could carry it for me.”

“There’s a good girl.” He reached for the bags and she extended her arms a little.

“Whatever would I do with out you?”  As she finished her sentence she dropped the forty pounds of ice onto his bare feet, and he squealed in anguish.

“Oopsie.”  She let her hand cover her mouth in mock shame.  “My bad.  Let me help you.”  She extended her arm to hold his hand, and pushed his chest violently.  Seth went flying back into the water with a bruised foot and more than likely a severely bruised ego.  Carly returned into the gas dock where Mr. Dodd was leaning over the counter and Summer was practicing her fake laugh.

Dear Work:

Seth reclined lazily one afternoon on the back of his Donzie and attempted to concentrate on the waves lapping up on the side.  It was a blistering hot summer day at Lake Shi Twada and Seth Johnson had been warned by his mother not to get into the trouble in which he usually found himself participating.  He had decided that a trip to the lake with his closest friend would fall under seemingly harmless.  Thus, they floated with no particular destination and Seth allowed each passing boat of young girls to giggle at his presence.  He owned this lake, this town, and he hadn’t breeched his eighteenth birthday.  Life was too easy.

“What the hell are we waiting for?” Adam questioned irritated that he had been in the sun so long.

“It’s Tuesday.” Seth explained, and draped his arm over the side of the ridiculously expensive mode of transportation.

“Oh, well that’s a splendid reason.  It’s Tuesday and the party is over in that cove,” He pointed dramatically in the opposite direction, “not over here by this stupid marina.  Oh my god, is that a dead fish?”

“Quit bitching, you aren’t getting laid anyways.” Seth smiled impishly, “It’ll be worth it.  Have you ever met the gas dock girls?”

“What is that, a cult?” Adam tore off his shirt to reveal tightly sculpted and well taken care of washboard abs.

“No.  They are by far the most beautiful creatures that meander the meager puddle that is this shit hole.  They are entirely too kind to grace us with their presence, not to mention their fine asses.  These girls are why fat, drunken, old men come to the lake.  These girls are perfect specimens of the female.  These girls are what we are waiting for.  Today is Tuesday my dear friend, and on Tuesday miracles happen.  In fact,” he looked briefly at his fossil watch, “Here comes one of those blessed miracles.”

A curvy brunette kicked open the front door of the floating building with long, tan legs, and heaved out a big heavy black mat which she threw into the air and let fall at her feet.  She pulled a little at her short khaki shorts, and rolled up the sleeves of her cheese doodle orange work uniform with the Sinking Marina logo plastered to her breast.

“I don’t get it.” Adam whispered to Seth who was simply there to enjoy the view.

“Shh,” he hissed violently, “You’re ruining our moment.”

The brunette disappeared momentarily and returned with a dustpan and a broom.  She began to swipe vigorously at the static clung mat to remove any stray particles of dirt.  The muscles in her arms vibrated intensely.

“Oh, baby now it’s the moment of truth.”  Seth grinned and rubbed his hands together in delight.

The pretty little brunette then bent over slowly and teasingly, as if she knew of their presence, to wipe up the dirt into her handy dust pan and revealed a tight and round backside that made Seth let out an appreciative whistle with an accompanied catcall.  Hearing the barbaric noises the brunette quickly stood and rotated to look at where it had come from and scowled.

“Aw, darlin’ don’t look at me like that.  We’ll be back.”  Seth laughed victoriously to himself as she stalked back inside.

“You are going to hell.” Adam reminded his friend.

“Save ya a seat.”  They both grinned and headed off in the direction of the cove where Seth and Adam would get into the trouble they had been warned against.

Dear Writings in Pictures:

AHA!  I knew you knew that I would be coming for you at some point or another.  So I know that you, dearest Rachel, have been playing around with character development so I too have a sort of challenge for you:

Take ideas from everyone who has ever annoyed you in class and make them into one person.  We both know that sitting in the back of the class is what we do in order to pass judgment on the rest of our college-dom.

Dear Little Tree:

Browsing pinterest I found this and was immediately inclined to share with you:

Isn’t this just adorable?  I don’t have enough buttons to attempt something like this but I thought it might be useful to send some ideas your way.  🙂

Dear Pinterest:

So I have a new and improved idea to work on class assignments and manipulate my pinterest addiction, while simultaneously broadening our collaboration project.

I am going to post different quotes or ideas or pictures or projects that remind me of the people I so wonderfully share a classroom with.  I will then ask that you attempt to use something I have posted for one of your posts!  It kills two birds with one stone!  As the end of the semester approaches I know we are all running out of things to write/blog/bitch about…. so in the words of a “lawl kat” I once saw: “No cry lil’ soft soft… I help.”

Today is directed towards Sean (buddy I will try to figure out a way to tag your blog from mine.)  Once upon a time Sean left me a comment about bacon on my breakfast blog.  I could not resist posting this picture when I saw it because I also believe it relates to his title “Bad Poetry”.

Sean, I would die if I could see a post about bacon on your site… just die.  Here’s my *terrible* attempt:

Beginning with the end in mind,

the judgmental canvas remains blank.

Can’t help but feel

like a shark in a tank.

What kind of words drip

like blood from my sheers.

To scissor apart the meat,

quick to avoid tears.

I want to smell the sizzle

and swim in the grease.

Bacon is the pink crunch

to put the wall of writing at ease.

 

Dear Trouble:

This is my last post about Aubie because he is in BIG BIG trouble mister.  I have a nice touch screen nikon camera that I absolutely adore.  I finally found the cord to upload photos onto my computer.  So obviously… Aubie eats it.  I’m pretty sure he was trying to get back at me for the terrible hair cut Gammie (my mother and his grandma) gave him.

 

Or he’s just a douche.  Regardless, he is in terrible trouble and will not see the light of day until I can figure out how to get a camera cord with out seducing another boyfriend into buying me a whole new camera.  Ugh.  I have to stop typing now because I am just becoming more angry.  Picures coming soon as well as a lovely explanation as to what happened during my almost camping trip this weekend.

Fun stuff kids. 🙂

Dear Group Work:

I am usually not a fan of group work, but this was my part of the project between Rachel and I.  It was interesting to see our differing styles and I think I am going to use the character profile idea more often.  I have a problem with seeing characters in my head and not fleshing them out on the page.

 

Melissa Lang

Physical:

Height – 5 foot 6 inches

Weight – 120lbs

Eyes – green

Hair – dyed black, chin length. Usually wears it scrunched up, bangs pulled back in a barrette or bobby pins – “sorority poof.” Used to be blonde.

Facial features – angular face, sharp dramatic eye brows, full plump lips. Wears little make-up but expertly applies what she wears.

Age: 23

Personality: Constantly underestimated by those around her because of her looks. Was once blonde but now dyes her hair black because she hated the stereotypes.  Melissa works a job filled with monotony. She longs to achieve more but wonders if she is capable of anything more. Has a deep fear of failure.

Life status: Melissa lives on her own because her father is dead and her mother lives three states away (a fact she is glad of – her mother is harsh and opinionated – the source of her lacking self-esteem)  She is proud of her apartment and the fact that she takes care of herself. At some point a sister from her father’s previous marriage whom she has never met and who has big dreams and little responsibility will come into the picture disrupting everything in Melissa’s monotony and causing her to think more about what she wants out of her life in a way she never would have expected

Dear Exhaustion:

My dog sleeps on my bed more often than I do.  In saying this, I do not mean that I sleep on the ground, or in his cage, or on the couch.  I mean to say that I do not sleep.  Ever.  Sleep is for the old!  I say this with a high sqeaky voice filled with faux determination because the only reason I am able to type at this moment is due to the fact that I have been typing so long I simply know where the keys lay beneath my fingers.  I cannot in fact see the screen or the words conveyed over it.

It never fails that the moment I finally get clean sheets on my queen sized bed, on which the fitted sheet is never inclined to stay, Aubie comes bounding out of no where with his little pink tongue hanging from his mouth and his ears flopping up and down with his stride and jumps directly on whichever part of my body he can reach.  This is most usually and predictably my face.  Sometimes when I’m lucky he plops down directly on my stomach.  Even better – my bladder.  Why is it that he wants to play the most when I want to die?  And when I have decided to be a good college student and a good doggie mommy and I take him out for a walk, he just wants to sit down and eat clovers – or rocks.  Also, when it would behoove him to sit patiently by my side as I work on this blog – instead he wants to sleep on my clothes.  The clean ones.  Never the dirty ones.

I cannot tell if I am deteriorating from sleep deprived exhaustion, or if this dog is perhaps the most hilarious thing in my life.  I cannot stop laughing.  Literally as I type these words imagine me cracking up like a psycho.  

Oh yes, and when I laugh Aubie is most excited to put his tongue directly up my nose.  This is not a pleasant feeling kids.  As I no longer can identify a point to this post I must big you all adieu.  I am going to sleep until I graduate.

Night Y’all. 

Dear “I-don’t-know-what-to-title-this-but-it’s-hilarious”:

In order for this to make sense one must know how much I detest bugs. I enjoy the outdoors, camping, hiking, fishing, canoeing, surfing, whatever. But I CAN NOT handle a giant bug whizzing around in my ear. The stealthy way they are everywhere but no where to be seen at the same time genuinely freaks me out. I have always wanted a dog who would instinctively find and kill said predator.

Instead, I got a Bichon Frise.

The little guy eats toilet paper, homework, newspaper, thumb tacks, carpets, walls, toothpicks, ipod chargers, and sometimes dog food. In fact, I gave him a Betty Boop doll that I named “Charlie” because of a girl I don’t like. She flirts with a boy who I am interested in. Plus it just so happens she’s fit, tan, and stupid. Exactly what guys are looking for, right? Aubie ate a hole in her head and devoured all the stuffing. I was pleased, but he’s been pooping cotton balls.

Well anyways back to the point. Aubie has not yet eaten a bug for me. One time there was an insanely huge cockroach crawling up the walls of my bedroom as I was cleaning. MY BEDROOM! Sitting on my bed, I screamed and fell over backwards, hiding under the covers until the my friend killed it for me and said it was safe to come out. Did my loving four-legged companion tackle the intruder? No, of course not. He wanted to play “attack mommy’s feet” while I was hiding under the blanket.

Today as I am cleaning up and getting ready to move, I sit down at my computer to check my blog. Aubie comes bounding in from the bathroom with a “present” in his mouth. Knowing that he eats everything but food, I pry his little chompers open and dig out whatever he was trying to consume.

A wasp.

I touched a I&$^*&^gI&^%TY WASP! That I am pretty sure was dead… I jump up on the couch only to realize it is in fact not moving. So either Aubie killed it, unlikely, or already found it dead. Immediately wanting to tell you all about this, I get on the floor and proceed to take a picture of it. What happened? Aubie photo bombs the wasp and picks it up and tries to GIVE IT TO ME!!!

I scream again. Jump on the couch. And little bug is quite confused. (My dog, not the wasp.) Anyways, that’s about all there is to the story. The bug is still sitting in my living room as I am unwilling to remove it, but at least it is a step up to having the only thing I believe dogs are good for: bug killers.

And eaters, I guess.
*******
Pictures coming soon. 🙂