Moving Away

Not entirely sure if anyone really follows me here...^^;;

but its become too much to update 4 sites, especially when I get this far behind...
So if anything, I am only going to update wordpress, facebook, and maybe my DA.

Here is my wordpress --> http://megumitierana.wordpress.com/
my DA --> http://megumitierana.deviantart.com/

Thanks for reading and hope you follow me to the other sites :)

Day 76

Soup Dash

I just wanted some soup! Eliza cried in her head. The tab off her soup can popped off before she could even peel back the cover. The can grinned, only a minuscule opened, the liquid bouncing around its belly.

She tried the office can opener. Sadly, the can was not designed for it, the well laid in too deep. Perhaps the other end, she pondered. But what of the juices?

Eliza looked though the pantry and found a paper bowl. She quickly flipped the can onto it, applying the opener to the can’s behind.

At first you don’t succeed, you try and try again, yes. But even the bottom wasn’t designed for the contraption, only adding dents to the can.

She fumed at her luck, wishing only to enjoy her lunch in peace. But wait, a light bulb. The can top is made for peeling away with some ease, right. What if, she thought, and placed the long, skinny end into the small opening.

At first nothing, the arm was too long to move. But she adjusted the angle and yes! It began to peel back.

I have triumphed over you can! She proudly proclaimed, emptying the contents into the new bowl.

Day 75

Handbag

“Ah shit,” Charlotte gasped. “She’s gonna kill me!”

“What happened,” Derrick asked, puffing on his cigarette.

“I broke Abby’s purse.” She showed the guys the purse and the broken zipper piece.

“Shit, first she’s mad about you not telling her about the concert, now this, way to go Char.” Jonathan laughed.

“Fix it,” she whined.

“Yeah, soon as I pull my mini welder out of my ass.” Jonathan jested, looking over the purse.

“Hey, you guys been to Rick’s Cabaret.” Derrick asked.

“Yeah man, hey, this one time, I saw this nerdy looking dude,” Jonathan said, trying to fasten the zipper back onto the purse, “and the stripper, shit man, came up to him and did this one move, and bam, totally hit him on the nose! He was all bloody and shit. When she asked me for a dance, I told her, shit, better not make me bleed!” He laughed. “Nope, can’t do it.” He handed the purse back. “Better buy her another one!”

Day 74

Bleeding Love

Funny how as much as you want to forget someone, they always remember you or something reminds you of them. It had been two months and 25 lbs ago that I managed to escape a terrible relationship. He was a jealous man, always suspicious of all my actions. At first it was endearing, thinking it was the strength of his love. But it turned to accusations of cheating and sleeping around. Everything I did had a motive to him, something I couldn’t handle anymore. He loved me, there was denying it, but he wanted only me to himself.

I ran into him the other day, his arm around another woman’s waist. How quickly some people can just move on.

“Caroline, you look good,” he said waving me down.

“Oh, Bruce. You too.” Not.

“How are things,” he had the gall to ask.

“Fine, just fine.” I looked over at the woman. “This is?”

“Candy,” he said. She smiled. “We meet a few days ago.”

“That’s good,” I grinned, hiding my rage. “Well, I have to get going, errands and things.”

“Yeah? Well, nice seeing you.” He said.

I moved as fast as I could without running. Really? Candy? Did you pick her up from a strip club? Whatever, he can have her. I can do so much better. I just have to find him.

Day 73

Love of Children

For the longest time I wanted children of my own. I’ve always wanted a boy to be the oldest and for him to have a younger sister, someone to watch out for her if anything were to happen to me and their father. I had yet to meet the right person, always in a mismatched relationship or something would go wrong.

I would take jobs that surrounded me with children, with my latest one being a 2^nd grade teacher.

Day 72

Last Call

My first alcoholic drink was a Coor’s Light at a rather young age. My grandpa would let sip off his can, but only a little taste. I liked the bubbles on my tongue and the dry taste.

For the longest time, I looked down on those who drank, thinking it a waste of time and money. It wasn’t until the end of my college years that I tried more and ended up enjoying the flavors.

It was new years and one of my best friends was in town. He invited me over to celebrate with his family. One part to spend time with me and one part to keep his anger in check. Turns out he didn’t get along with his grandfather and didn’t want to ruin the evening.

His aunt whipped up some mudslides. I was quite unsure of it, not knowing what I was drinking. But I enjoyed it, but could only manage to drink one.

A little later down the road, another friend introduced me to a beer called Blue Moon. And after graduation, one of my girlfriends took me for a couple of drinks, introducing me to a rather obscene named drink called the Star Fucker.

Day 71

'Til Death

It’s hard to look at my childhood and find one fond memory of my sister, Kendra. She was always loud, controlling, and overbearing. It didn’t stop at childhood either, it continued long into adulthood. Even for my own wedding, she had to have her say. Granted, that marriage didn’t last long. And, look at her, even in the here after she has something to say.

“And lastly, to my sister, Abigail,” Kendra said from a video recording. “I wish for you to care for my child, Adrian.”

“Is she serious?” I mumbled.

“Dead serious, Abby.” Great she even anticipated my response. “I only trust him with you. Besides, he may even help you find a man.”

“I can do that on my own,” retorting to the recorded Kendra.

“Of course, it’s going swimmingly. Not.” She managed to even plan that one. “Adrian, please mind your aunt Abby. I know you two will get along swell.”

My nephew and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes.

“I mean it,” she continued. “Thank you everyone. I love you all.”

Adrian and I looked at each other again.

“Well Auntie Abby,” he said, littered with teenage sarcasm. “What’s for dinner?” He seemed angry, than sad at the whole ordeal.