Posted in comedy, idk., News

Whipped Cream was on Sale.

So, on my break from the dusty hell that is Dollarama, I went over to the grocery store and bought some goddamn $5 Ontario strawberries. Yes, poor money choices… I am going to end up homeless if I continue to spend like this… I know I know. But anyway, I had to go back to work right after bought said strawberries. SO, I shoved them in my backpack to let them get real smooshy.

After work, I decided something was going to be missing from my night. I already had my berries, but where was the cream? Not in my backpack, that’s for sure. On my walk across the bright ass parking lot into the darkness, I stopped in at Food Basics. Where, knew there was whipped cream on sale. This was to be the theoretical cherry atop my sundae. Or, just you know the whipped cream on top… who actually eats the cherries on top anyway?

Getting off topic here, as I walked into a very-empty-and-kind-of-depressing Ancaster Food Basics I started to think of ways I could explain why I was buying just a singular can of whip cream at 9:30 at night.

Here, are my overzealously (probably not a word) thought ways to explain my singular whipped cream canister.

  • The truth, I was using it to be eaten with my $5 strawberries. Just reminding you that I am crazy and bought $5 strawberries.
  • The obvious, to anyone under 30. Some sort of whipped cream *bikini maybe* sex act. I should look into this now, for… research.
  • I was buying it for my dying grandmother as her last wish.
  • I had just gotten dumped and planned on just squirting it in my mouth all night. But, the major plot hole in this excuse is if I had really been planning on doing this with the cream, I would need like 4 or 5 cans to mask my feelings with a sugar high.
  • Katy Perry circa “California Gurls music video” tit canisters.

Once the whipped cream and I locked eyes, I knew it was meant to be… Until I looked at the price. $4 for name brand or $2.49 for on-sale-no-name-brand, I had already spent $5 on goddamn strawberries *which were still being smooshed in my backpack by a tiny bag of “got to keep them alive until payday” cat food* so I was not at liberty to spend whatever I please on whipped cream.

Plus, I am a cheap bastard by nature.

So, me and the on sale *not “light less sugar diet shit air” * whipped cream strolled up to the cashier and I put it on the counter. The cashier looked at me funny. Then I looked at her, then she looked from the lonely can of cream to me and back to the cream. I knew what she was thinking. Being me, I blurted out… “I have strawberries I swear” and she looked at me and smiled, “I’m glad you said that, because my mind was going… well where yours was too probably.” And she was right. So, I paid, not before blabbering incessantly at her and reassuring her of the existence of the strawberries, and walked out the sliding doors.

That is the end of this weird little story. I just felt this needed to be shared for some reason. So, bye.

*blares California Gurls in her room, alone, with ($5) strawberries and whipped cream falling out of her mouth as she lip syncs and dances around her room*

Posted in idk., News, prompts suck

Turn it around.

Hello there, I’m back and bored.

I want to write but all my posts are usually shit and I do not have any more ideas. I want to “turn this blog around dammit” but I have no content and to be honest, I like to complain to the internet about my useless problems.

So here I am trying to write a coherent blog post that is not only funny but witty and well thought out.

(this is improbable knowing my brain)


Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I did not write one of my usual “love sucks” posts dumping and shitting on everything  good and holy as I traditionally do. To be honest (again) I do not really hate the whole idea of Valentines and love and such anymore. I am trying to be a more positive person so yeah it’s not so bad.

Also, I kind-of-but-not-really have a “person” who makes me happy.

Valentines Day is still kind of stupid in the expensive gifts and social constructs that surround the day, but nonetheless I enjoy the puns and excessive amount of discounted candy on February 15.

*new topic being poorly transitioned into* I am in the library again. Surprise.

There is a book on the large print shelf to my left that is by a person named DICK WOLF and it is in big white letters (times new roman font looking) with a black background and I am 12 so every time I look at it in my peripheral vision I giggle a little.

I want cake.

Gooey, ooey chocolate cake filled with cherries and no icing just the way I like it.

Oh god I know what my plans are tonight now, I am going to make a cake and eat probably half of it in one sitting while watching… something. Also my cat will be there.

I would be an awesome wife I would make boredom craving cakes all the time. Wife me.

I don’t really want to post this because it is also sort of shit but oh well here we go.



Posted in idk., sitting in..

Sitting in a Library part two.

Okay so a very long time ago in a land far,far away on my old Blogger blog, I wrote a fun little blurb on my adventures at my local library after I got my braces.

I had my big, noisy laptop and nervous tendencies… I listened to a lady sigh about 400,000 times and had tooth-hurty problems; coincidentally, around two-thirty in the afternoon. HAHHAH I am so funny, you missed me I know you did.

So, to set the scene for you, I am in the Terryberry branch of the Hamilton Public Library; sitting at a tall table facing away from the sunny window behind me beating on my back. I have been adjusting my laptop frequently so it remains hidden in my shadow.

A lady just walked by in a very short skirt… poor girl (it is currently two measly degrees in Hamilton and there is at least 5 inches of snow. Why are you wearing a mini skirt. I mean, you look cute and you do you boo boo but still; are you not freezing your literal ass off (the skirt is that short.)

Listening to some old P!nk and loving it; she needs to make another album that would be fab. If you somehow don’t know who she is, educate yourself and you will not be sorry.

Although, this is the internet and everyone has many opinions.

Very cute boy sitting at the couches across from my holier-than-thou height table. Very cute yes. Good job to his parents.

Oooo; aforementioned cute boy is engaging in a watch deal sort of thing. It’s like a weird drug deal but for a watch. A dude came from seemingly nowhere and just sat across from cute boy. Pleasantries were exchanged, and then down to the nitty-gritty of if said watch was indeed a good one. Leather is being inspected as we speak. Apparently this watch is a satisfactory specimen and money is now being exchanged; $60 Canadian. Cute boy has watch – is now texting someone and I am going to stop spying on him now the poor boy.

The sun is less bright now and i do not need to block my laptop from the brightness anymore.

So, let us do a little life update/ I have a plan section while I wait for something interesting to happen.

I have decided (kinda) that I think I want to move out of my mum’s Ancaster, small-town-shitty-bus-system, sub-urban home. I want to go from this to a room in Hamilton. Where buses run past 9 p.m. and people use the sidewalks.

AND I think I can do it too! So here is my plan:

  1. Get a Job in Hamilton. Preferably Part-Time with a lot of hours. I’ll even take Full-Time & do my online college stuff by night at this point.
  2. Make sure you can afford to Move Out. This is important as you do not want to live in a box on Main Street.
  3. Quit Dollarama.
  4. Work and save up money until May/June 2017.
  5. During the “saving up” phase of this plan, get what you will need to move out (sheets, bed, cutlery etc.)
  6. Look for rooms for rent around either Mohawk College or McMaster University -quiet, non partying students are preferred.
  7. Pet-Friendly for my Cats. Maybe. I have not decided on this fully yet.
  8. Move in and be Independent.

I doubt this will work but I at least want to try.

Saggy pants boy just walked by. I wonder if his heart is as sad as his butt looks; as it is neglected the warmth of pants.

Watch boy is now taking pictures of the watch he just bought. Making some arts y angles and even propping it on a book.

That is not what books are for, boy.

It has now been an hour and nothing new has happened. Cute watch boy left, there is a couple who are chattering lovingly on the couch now in front of me, a library worker just passed by, cart of books to be shelved in tow.

Hello, I am back, and now there are two very loud little kids being annoying and sitting on each other over and over again and screaming. I am never having kids. The mother, is also doing nothing. At all.



Okay so it is now a week after I initially wrote this and I feel as though I should post.

Happy Christmas, by the way.


Posted in prompts suck

Uncreative Writing Prompt Answers.

Today, I am going to make small sarcastic and maybe funny answers to the following writing “prompts” that I found on the vast space we call Google.

Get Ready.

Maybe this will become a series.

  1. Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now?

It is cold. It is Canada. It sucks. However, Donald Trump isn’t my president so I’ll take Canada and its desolate pre-winter any day.

  1. The Unrequited love poem:How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?

I am single.

I have unrequited love.

No, it is not an STI

You need to have sex to get one of those

I am single

  1. The Vessel:Write about a ship or another vehicle that can take you somewhere different from where you are now.

I am going to take a bus later. Busses are warm. I could be cliché and compare a bus to a warm hug; but I wouldn’t know. I don’t hug.

  1. Dancing:Who’s dancing and why are they tapping those toes?

I am dancing because there is a catchy song on. I am dancing with my cat. I am alone.

  1. Food:What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.

I met a friend at a café once.

She was beautiful.

Golden-Yellow and Crunchy.

Cranberries Shining.

I ate her.

She was a Lemon-Coconut-Cranberry Bar.

I am not a cannibal I just don’t have any friends.

  1. Eye Contact:Write about two people seeing each other for the first time.

AAH. Eye contact is terrifying. Intimacy is terrifying. I wonder if they will notice If I just start staring at their nose. Oh; they have freckles that’s cute. Are they still staring at me? I should probably try to look in their eyes. Oh no. Oh no. Mayday Abort Mission. Nope I am not ready for this yet I am a useless lump who cannot be intimate for shit. Help.

  1. The Rocket-ship:Write about a rocket-ship on it’s way to the moon or a distant galaxy far, far, away.

HAHAHHA bye bitches. Crap, my ass fell off. Oh, god there go my arms. Now I am nothing but a space grape floating in… well, space. Hey maybe we can go to the moon. I heard it was made of cheese, maybe a nice cheddar or mozzarella. I could really go for some cheese right now I am emotional my ass is gone.

  1. Dream-catcher: Write something inspired by a recent dream you had.

Nothingness. BUT if I know my brain it had something to do with food or sexy times. Maybe even at the same time. Hmm… Onion rings…

  1. Animals:Choose an animal. Write about it!

There is a cat. It is floofy.

  1. Friendship:Write about being friends with someone.

I like having friends they make me less lonely.

Posted in stream of nothingness

A stream of nothingness – Part One

I need to practice typing on this new computer, my college education depends on it.

The keyboard is smaller so that’s new and its taking some getting used to.

Types very nicely though. Smooth and easy.

Library and Information Technician at Conestoga College.

I love you.

I never say that to anyone anymore.

Alicia Mooers

Alicia Mooers

Alicia Mooers

yes, that is your name, good job; gold star for you!

Typety Type Type Tyyyype!

This is fun. Stream of consciousness go!

I can hear bugs and crickets outside amidst my noisy neighbors and their serial-killer-in-the-making son playing MarioKart. I can hear the dunn dunn dunn duuun! Sounds that signal the beginning of a race.

I hope one day soon I can have my own apartment.

One can dream.

This is a very pretty font and I am fond of this font one could say,


OOO and since I am pretty sure I should become a comedic genius for thinking this little baby up; I dropped a pea from my samosa that I was eating the other day onto the table and exclaimed: “Oh no! We have an esca-PEA!!!”

Yes I realize that is very lame

Yes I am still proud of it

Currenty waiting on kittens to come and sims to download.

Wooo slow internet

(not for the kittens – internet speed has nothing to do with kitten births… yet)

Wow two hundred and sixteen – wait seventeen words of absolutely nothing.






I am a professional adult type.

I have a credit card and a savings account

Look at me, being the adulty person I am supposed to be.

I don’t want to work tomorrow.


I mean I never want to go to work but like its going to be early and I am not a fan.

Plus it’s Cheryl

And I hate my job.

Anxiety has been at a new high after cutting my hair off.

I feel really great about it at times but like I miss my bun.

So I am going to grow it out. Not out of sadness or regret just out of pure laziness, and no time to want to deal with my hair constantly.


Not a fan

Should I post this on my blog

Nobody reads it anyway

Oh well


The Sims 4 is taking a small lifetime to download because my brother is playing a game online with his little friends.

I have a mini bun on my head and could not care less.

Ooo look a mosquito!

Please don’t bite me

I am very pale, that means I am a vampire, I do not have any blood for you small one.

Your attempt will be futile.

I am not going to wear makeup to work tomorrow

Or do anything with my hair

Or look nice in general

#leggings and a t shirt kinda shift

Wow two pages of nothing

I am a talented writer

I will be a writer one day

Actually, ultimate life goal is to own a used book store, with flowers and crafts as well

But it will be super cute and not “old lady nesting grounds” at all.

My cousin is basically my prettier sister.

Love her to death.

Yeah I am going to post this

To my blog

Why not?

Nobody reads the darned thing anyway.

Maybe this “stream of nothingness” post will become a series

Another promise to break.

I miss Zellers.


Posted in idk.

As of right now…

I am wearing  a t shirt with a ham on it. Things are going well. I am slightly fried from all the sun exposure I was forced into this past weekend so that’s always fun.

I am also that strange state of tiredness where I have not really done anything of importance today besides go into the city for cock sauce. (hehehe not what you think.)

SO.. In other news the rest of my day has consisted of sitting in my own filth and changing my outfit about 6 times in two hours.

*did i mention i am tired for no reason?*

Also, (because I suck at transitions) I planned the next three years of my education last night and felt like a hardcore adult. That was nice. I got to make an excel document which brings me a strange joy similar to that of eating a cupcake after being stressed to find a laptop in August among the hoards of others expecting the same. Which, evidently, is also a thing I did last night.

I just had to add ‘hehehe’ to my personal Google dictionary.

That was a useless fact.

Okay going to end this 200-odd word stream of consciousness (I learned that phrase in a writing course) before it gets sad.



Posted in comedy, idk.

I have a walk in closet. I do not like this closet.


I am bored and something occurred to me that I have not told my strange little corner of the internet.



Wooooo *Rainbows and such*

Yes world, I am a girl who likes girls and boys

Well to be specific I am a Biromantic Homosexual. 

Edit: or just Bisexual 

This means that I am romantically attracted to both boys and girls but only want to “do dirty things” (wow I am literally 12) with girls.

Edit: maybe the right guy can “swing” me

Before you ask, no I have not kissed a girl but am incredibly open to it. I am just a social hobbit who even though I have this newfound sexuality (also not that newfound it’s been about two years in the making) I am still a social hobbit who spends her days sitting in bed watching YouTube and snuggling cats.


Anywhoozles I don’t really want to write about “how I know I am gay” edit: bisexual and such because I find it unnecessary I just know. I mean there were some things that happened leading up to me accepting the fact but those were pretty standard like I had a crush on one of my best (straight) friends and I then got my heart broken by a girl (different girl) and realized one of the biggest problems I have with guys is the fact that they… have an extra appendage… heh.

Edit: yeah this is still true

Yup so as usual I don’t know how to end this; big surprise there.

*realizes she hasn’t even told her father this news yet*

*contemplates life*

*remembers father is in other country and is not very accessible right now*

*to post or not to post?*

*laughs to self for above allusion to Hamlet*

*pats self on back*

*realizes she is typing to herself*

*kitten bites foot*

*realizes she should tell blog about kitten*

Hey I’m back I got said kitten from the last post I posted about an eon ago. She is a little devil. A cute devil. But still a devil.


*I should probably mention prom*

Also, I went to prom and socialized like a normal 18-year old.

Prom was not really super fun for me and the after party was kind of a shitshow but I expected that. Spending time with my friends and getting to wear a pretty dress were good but I personally think “prom” as a whole is kind of overrated.

*such cynical*

I would’ve much rather just had my friends over and we could have sat around in our dresses and drank Phoebe-Monica-Rachel style.


Like this.

*still don’t know how to end*


*googles how to end a blog post*

*all those ideas are shit*

*decided to just keep doing this weird inner thought thing*


*so much mystery*

*am I real or am I fake*

*what am i*

*how do you know this isn’t just a computer writing this*


*no it’s just me sitting alone in my room ignoring my phone and all the socialization that comes with it*

*still a pretty shit typer*

*oh well*

K bye

*yes that will work*

Posted in lovey-dovey shit

a L.O.V.E. story

L is for lingering touches on bristly skin, O is for over him never, V is for the vexatious poison in your kiss that I can’t help but want; and finally, E is for how one can become another’s everything within a nothing.

I remember the exact moment I fell in hopeless love with your stupid face. I remember your beguiling smile, your tattooed arms and watching your lips form perfect syllables. I remember your hand reaching to mine. It held mine and I traced imperfect circles over the veins pumping scarlet blood through you. The cab seat we sat on was both velvet and concrete at the same time. A sharp and beautiful tingle shot up my spine, through my fingers when your lips brushed mine. I felt it then.

I still can’t explain it. It’s a feeling all its own. When you realize you love someone. Not anything like the nervous blood sprinting in your veins when you say it aloud, because that moment could be weeks, months or years later.

This moment is pure endorphins running to every part of your body, it’s a calm cool heat. It’s like on one end your whole body freezes but a part of you that is brand new just unthawed.

You don’t just feel it in your heart you feel it in your ribs, tingling and tantalizing your toes, a pair of woolen socks wrapped around frozen feet.

I looked up at you and realized your calloused thumb rolling over my fingertips, how I could never be over you, the infection of your lips and how after this moment you had become my everything from nothing.

Posted in Writer's Craft



A short story by: Alicia Mooers

I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years, however as soon as I got to my high school reunion I knew that was about to change.

I had bought an impeccable tweed suit for this occasion, the pairing of my palomino tweed with a raspberry button-up could not have looked better. I do hope it survives high school. The 3-hour production of a short, coiffed hairstyle I was sporting was looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself. I will need this suit for my sister’s wedding on Thursday as well. One last check and fluff of my pumpkin spice latte colored hair and I mumble “You got this, Willie” to my reflection in the trophy case adjacent to the circus doors, and I walk in.

As I entered, the old musty sock smell that seemed to take permanent residence in the “vintage” gymnasium instantly reminded me of my personal hell, P.E. class in freshman year. I haven’t run a mile collectively since those dark days.

The gym is decorated in maroon and gold. The faded colours of the same decorations that are brought out every occasion are stirring up the old memories of my high school graduation. I remember that my mom had bought me a suit and it was three sizes too big… bless her heart. The combination of my oversized suit and the too-small graduation gown I had ordered made me look a bit like an overstuffed turkey.

There are tables filling the room brandishing the same gaudy centerpieces used at my senior prom, and I watch my graduate class milling around having awkward conversations with their bored spouses in tow. I sit back and watch them struggle to remember all that was dear to them 20 years ago. The faces, I watch one of the head cheerleaders back in the day (who I may have had a giant crush on for the whole of high school – only because she had a “bangin’ bod” – ahh, to be young) as she tries to use her university-educated-with-daddy’s-money brain to identify her supposed best friend from the past. I can practically hear her two brain cells rubbing together from here. But, alas I think it is a lost cause – she just can’t get her perfect, pink fingernail on who is standing before her.

As I chuckle to myself at the sight, I hear an all too familiar screech that hits me like a bludger to the head. “OH. MY. GOD. – WILLIE MIKLET!?!” Instantly, I panic. It couldn’t be… no… I thought she moved out east! As I reluctantly turn around, my eyes land on the one thing I didn’t want to see here. The only high school girlfriend I ever had was standing about 6 feet away from me. The unparalleled existence of Margie Rynne, yes, as in sounds like margarine. Oh god. No. This can’t be. If there is anything in this whole world that will knock me off track… it would be Margie, 5 minutes would turn anyone to drink.

Wow, she looks exactly the same – and not in a good way, nothing has changed since our 6-week totally 80’s awkward-fest we called a relationship. First I see the long, matted blonde hair with her signature immaculate straight-across bangs… The only feature not radically 80’s on this girl. I always thought that hair of hers made her look like some sort of seriously abused Barbie doll. Like, “left in a mud puddle outside for weeks and then put in the dryer,” kind of abused. I also see that she still hadn’t figured out makeup. Now, I’m not saying that I am some sort of makeup guru of any sort, but I do know that mascara is not supposed to double as an eyeshadow. Yikes. I still remember having to clean clumps of thick, black, mascara clumps out of my mom’s good Christmas towels because Margie decided they made the perfect tissues on one self-conscious night. Everything about this hen made my sober brain crave a drink. I decided, sober or not, I would get through this night with Margie. I put on my best fake smile and yelled back “Margie! *sigh* Long time no see!” my best futile attempt at appearing excited.


The next thing I know she’s practically strangling me, I know she’s wearing those god-awful fake nails with some sort of rhinestone on the top because they are making tiny canyons in my flesh. Ow. I inhale the regrettably familiar scent of Margie, Cotton Candy and bad breath. Dear Lord, I think her breath actually got worse. As she squeezes, I feel like I am sinking deeper into an endless void of polyester and spandex. “O.M.G Willie.. You just went and became a little hottie-patottie didn’t you?!? I bet you have all the girls fawning after you dontcha?” I don’t even comprehend what this gluttonous mass standing in front of me said because I am too busy focusing on the repulsive slap of her chewing gum that might as well be hitting me in the face. She looks at me expectantly. Did she ask me something? Oh dear, what did she say? I decide on a slow nod accompanying a “Yeeess…” She looks content so I guess that was the right answer. I look past her enormous face and just beyond the large, neon enamel earring staring into my soul, I see an open bar. Yes! My salvation. I say “I think I’m going to go and get a drink…” and then, when I thought the coast was clear and I could happily avoid her for the rest of the night… “Oh, Willie! You always were such a sweetie, don’t tell me you’re still too nervous to ask me if I want a drink?” I stared at her. She stared back, a sickening grin bounding from ear to ear stretched across her face. I turned to go, defeated, and behind me I could hear the clicking of her heels as she followed me to the bar. I decided Margie was as good a reason as any to start drinking again. Otherwise, this was going to be a long night.

I lumbered up to the bar, with the clicking not far behind and ordered a gin and tonic. As the bartender handed me my drink, I heard an “ahem” on my left. Margie was standing there with her enormous cow eyes flitting between me, my drink and the bar. Another “ahem” and I caught on. This narwhal beside me wanted to order her a drink. Seriously. By this time the bartender asks “… and for the lady?” looking straight at me. I grumbled “Whatever will get her drunk…” and left.

I found a nearby table covered in “Congrats Grad!” confetti and a faded maroon tablecloth. Settling into a hard, plastic chair that is decorated with multiple carvings, one of which is a rather large engraving of a lopsided heart with a “Jace” professing his love for a “Madi” … “Jace and Madi 4 Eva!”

As I am getting comfortable and lifting the glorious gin and tonic to my mouth, I hear the clicking again. Before she can get any closer, I take a big gulp of my drink. The intoxicating buzz of bubbles on my tongue sets off a rush of instant gratification and I started to remember less and less why I quit drinking in the first place. The clicking gets closer and then is beside me. Then the pecking begins. “Sooo when did you get a little chunky in the trunky?” or “Why did we even break up in da first place?” her voice is reminiscent of a dog toy. I keep sipping and nodding.

After what feels like an eternity of meaningless questions, and about 6 gin and tonics later, she starts with “Willie, you think *hiccup* we could *hiccup* reconnect?” when I say nothing back, she inches all 200 pounds of pleather and cheetah print closer and hisses the words that are only ever brought up after eight vodka shots and ten years “Like in an intimate way”. I struggle to keep the gin and tonic down. I may be drunk but all the alcohol in the world could not make me get with Margie ever again. I say “no Margie, we had our times… you’re very drunk, and I don’t think you wouldn’t be saying that sober.” Her grey eyes burn into mine. They start to puff up. Crap, she’s about to push me down a waterslide I did NOT sign up for.

“How could you!?” *hiccup* she continued with “I am NAAAT drunk…! I still love you Willie! Why do ya think I came back to this hellhole?” *hiccup* “The thought that I would’ve have a chance with you again is the only thing that keeps me …”


Yes, Margie Rynne vomited on my new tweed pants. Wonderful. I guess I’m going to need a new suit for my sister’s wedding on Thursday after all. I stare up at the leopard print porpoise that ruined them. Behind her matted yellow head of hair, I see the whole reunion laughing. A couple of them have big lumps of the Welcome Back Class of 1987 cake in their hands, others are in the corner holding handfuls of confetti and chips near the industrial fans. What in the world is about to happen?


Now I understand all the food in people’s hands. I stand up, unzip my smelly, soggy pants and add to the noise of by yelling “STRIP FOOD FIGHT” – don’t ask what possessed me to do this, because I don’t know – but to my surprise everyone actually listens. I grab a chunk of cake from the table nearby, I ball it up in my once beautiful tweed pants and chuck it at a previous football quarterback who, upon impact, squeals like a girl I once dated at the sight of a bumblebee. A miraculous thing happens next, he turns and right when I think he’s going to charge, yells across the madness “nice shot!” and continues to pelt people with napkin-made spitballs.

I hear clicking behind me and for the first time all night I don’t care if it’s Margie. As I turn, it’s the brainless cheerleader I had observed earlier, now pants-less and standing right in front of me. She says nothing except – “You’re actually pretty cool” and plants a highly intoxicated kiss on me right in the middle of the chaos. Better than Margie I guess.

When the drunken cheerleader becomes bored with me and goes back to her football-star husband, I decide this has been enough fun for one night. As I turn to leave the chaos I started behind me, I see a half of a cheetah print ball laying facedown under one of the tables. Margie must have either died or it couldn’t handle all the physical activity and liquor, and so it passed out. I walk over to the large spandex covered gluteus-maximus and poke it with my shoe. The mass of Margie Rynne grunts, well she is at least alive. I turn to leave.

One last look at the chaos that my high school reunion and I see “nerds” fighting alongside “jocks” – something that would’ve never happened all those years ago. I see Margie’s rump sticking out from under that table. Banners are being ripped down and being used as shelter. There’s chip shrapnel flying and cake-confetti mixture splattering on nearby walls, various items of clothing decorating the floors but still the gym sock smell remains.

I walk through the doors and out into the hallway. The same trophy case that self-selected its own glory is staring me in the face and my once perfect hair is misshapen and cake bits are doubling as styling gel. I now have a quite literally raspberry coloured shirt, as I am coated in berry juice. My tweed jacket has seen better and I sigh for my missing tweed pants.

I would get them cleaned, if only I could remember where they ended up.

Posted in Writer's Craft

I am Number 4 Movie “Review”

Hello peeps. I wrote this movie review for my Writers Craft class and now I am going to share it with you because I think it’s pretty funny.

I am Number Four (IMDB)  – In case you don’t know what movie I am talking about.

I am Number Four Movie review. 

Alicia Mooers

Okay. Let’s start by addressing the fact that the only way this movie would get more than 3 stars from any self-respecting critic is if they were judging solely on abs. There are a lot of alien-boy abs seen in this movie, and that is about the only good thing it is useful for.

Now to move onto the other aspects of this less than satisfactory movie. One thing that should be known is that this movie was adapted from the book series originally written by Pittacus Lore. This is the first and last movie made in the series I hope. For the love of all that is good and holy please do not make any more of these movies, DreamWorks. I am begging you. And, if you absolutely have to make another, may I suggest dropping all the things like dialogue and plot and switch genres to something more fitting for this amount of alien abs… Maybe more of an “Adult Film”. I think you could really have something there.

As with all badly made books-turned-movies; this one was no different. It had an angry, angst-filled teen alien dude who moves around a lot and hates his guardian because of it (but secretly loves him all the same and when he dies in the end, angry alien dude cries), an innocent artsy girl who is somehow not freaked out by the fact that her soon to be boyfriend’s hands glow; and a shady ass lizard-turned faithful dog- turned demon protector dog that is the size of an elephant (which obviously gets injured in battle and I honestly don’t remember if he dies or not. Frankly, I don’t care.)

In the end, all the abs in the world could not fix this preteen wet dream of a movie.