woo happy 100th post!

So like Emma was saying, I think I have a touch of blogstaphobia, been feeling a little uninspired. I think it's at a weird stage where I could either write very little, or a heck of a lot. But I figure with the work I have to do, the 'very little' option is prob wisest at the mo! BUT that said, I'm gonna steal Lib's idea from a while ago and put up a couple of stories/orals that I did a while ago for interests sake.

This first one is quote possibly my favourite english assignment from this year- we had to do an oral and recreate a vivid memory (so you guys are getting the short stick, u don't get the theme music and bubbles, lol) which was so much fun... I love letting my inner drama queen out every so often (bcoz I'm totally non-dramatic most of the time... ;), and hearing everyone else's was hilarious!

Deadly Christmas Bubbles


Let’s set the scene. It Christmas 1992, and I’m understandably psyched. I mean, come on; the presents, the pudding, the fact that Santa is actually going to be in my bedroom!

So when I wake up on Christmas morning, I immediately try to practically get into my stocking to find out what’s in it. I start pulling stuff out. Awesome, I got some stick-on earrings, a sleeping beauty book…the list goes on and I get to the bottom of my stocking. There lies the obligatory Christmas orange that we get every year- strange, but hey, oranges are cool and you can’t argue with Santa, so I go with it- and possibly one of the most entertaining and transfixing playthings of all time: a little bottle of detergent and a bubble blower. The picture on the side of the bottle shows kids happily blowing bubble the size of their head, and I think, hey, that’s going to be me soon.

So the rest of the morning comes and goes, and my Aunty Caroline arrives. Now this combined with the inexplicable quadrupling effect Christmas seems to have on a young child’s energy, almost sends me hysterical with delirious Christmas induced glee. Soon enough I find myself playing outside with my two older brothers and Aunt, cranking out the bubbles like there’s no tomorrow. Then a though occurs to my brilliant 4 year old mind. If you can make bubbles using these round plastic thingamajigs, who’s to say you couldn’t make them yourself, if you drank a bit of the bubble liquid? It could work, the little film thing would form across your throat, and all you’d have to do was breathe for bubbles to come out. I mean, you’d only need to drink a little bit… I bet no-one’s thought of that before, and I’ll become world famous for such an ingenious yet practical idea.

So I wait for my Aunty to do her bubble dance to the other side of the garden with my brothers, and I try and sneakily pick up the bottle and take a sip. Bleugh! It’s tastes disgusting! How come eating bubbles never tasted this bad?! But such is the price a genius like myself must pay. OK, time to see if my plan worked. Not working, I’ll try again. Still no success. But it made so much sense, why aren’t I a wonder-bubble-breathing kid by now? So I think, maybe I should read the label (never mind the fact I couldn’t actually read- small detail). All I can make out is a little warning sign, but that’s enough to make my once energy filled body suddenly feels weak as I believe it starts the slow process of death by detergent. Oh my goodness. It’s poison. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die. My tragically short life is now flashing before my eyes. And on Christmas day of all days! I’m not even going to get Christmas pudding. I should probably inform Mum that her youngest child has only got hours, if that, to live. I inform her of the tragic news, but strangely- it must’ve been denial- she tells me I’ll be fine, and that I should lie down if I feel a bit sick. A bit sick? A bit sick?! I’m dying here! Little does she know, I think. Little does she know.

I sadly drag my ailing body to my bed, planning out my funeral. Colourful, yet sombre, I think would be appropriate. I wait patiently on my bed, pondering in my young mind the issues of life and death, for what seems like hours, listening to the merry chatter of my family outside, enjoying the Christmas lunch. They won’t be merry for much longer, I think, waiting for darkness to cloud my vision.

But strangely, it doesn’t. I look at the clock. It’s been 5 minutes, and I’m still alive. I look at my hand. Not green, as I expected. I wiggle my toes. They’re in working order. I tentatively sit up, then stand up. Nice, I thought. I must be stronger than I thought to survive poisoning by detergent. I’m kind of half-disappointed though, that a once rapidly unfolding drama, starring me, was no longer taking place. But hey, at least I can have some Christmas pudding!

As you can see, I survived that near death experience unscathed. Well, relatively unscathed.

I'll put the other one up later, spread 'em out! Ciao peepadilios

ps How good was youth focus sunday? Great effort all round guys, I for one really enjoyed it (even after going to all three services!!) and was so proud of everyone! I thought Joel and Law did an excellent job, naturals up front, and what they both said was true and challenging. And the drama!! Oh we've got some quotes to keep us going for a while, Nick vR 'Here I am!'- gold! And Miss Aust/USA, lol. All the younger guys were really good i thought. And the music team, it sounded great! At each of the services it worked well (lol go the actions Anne!) Oh and speaking of Anne, so proud of her, getting the Diana Goldsmith award! She really deserved it, all the work she's done for the church in the kid's ministry esp.

Lol, ok I'll stop gushing now!!