This week has been all but calm, people. Now I actually have a legtimate excuse for not being able to get blogging ...that is to say, one that doesnt include "Sims2" and "my boring life" as reasons. The writing lab has me slaving away about 4 hours a day (there are whipcracks and heinous cackles abound) with people who cannot, and aren't trying to see their own mistakes. By the 3rd hour the words start dancing menacingly in front of your eyes and you sigh inwardly as you have to start the rhyme about " No, the bibliography does not make up the length of your essay. You cannot put random words in of which you don't know the meaning. Don't start 7 consecutive paragraphs with "This is".
oh. my. word.
It's enough to make anyone try and peel their skin off from frustration.
*sigh*
(If you were wondering what the title refers to, Im busy with a Translation Assignment, which is a nightmare)
Ok, enough venting. In the midst of this whirlwind of grammar, I've been sitting on an idea. Well...actually, it was sparked by my friend Mikey's fascination with double-barreled surnames, coupled with my fascination with the pretention that is British "Society".
Here is the first bit - it's not even a page long, but I feel I have to put something on the blog so you can start gathering those rotten tomatoes or flowers, however your inclination might be after reading it. Enjoy. And comment! :P
“ Get OUT!!”. Malvina Padlington-Croates lilted her intonation so that the last bit of her shriek was so high she almost became breathless. Outraged , she shooed with her pudgy hands, adorned in what seemed like her whole inventory of jewellery. The 24-carat gold gleamed in the dim candlelight, offset by rubies and emeralds which seemed to be glowing indignation at having been thrust onto such an undeserving finger. Meanwhile all hell had broke loose in the chamber as the lady of the house perilously pranced around and yelled at the maid. The bewildered girl could do all but break her knees scurrying out,mumbling apologies and bowing until she was in the hallway.
Malvina slammed the door shut behind the girl and rested her considerable bulk against it. Servants these days were more a pestilence than a help, really. Sighing deeply, her eyes scanned downward to try and assess what the maid saw. Her ample breasts were almost cascading over the too-tight corset that compressed her into almost half the size her waist usually was. The black ribbons were coming loose at the ends and hung down to her hips, where it looked like the corset had spat out two doughy sausages that functioned as legs. In comparison, her ankles were dainty, almost comically so, and her feet the same. Her mother had always bragged in society about her second eldest daughter’s dainty ankles – much to the silent chagrin of her sister Delores, who later died of tuberculosis and jealousy.
She traipsed over to her vanity mirror and sat down. Malvina’s mother, the late Countess Clementina Rutherford-Soarbucks , was as spiteful as she was stupid. Murmurings in society was that she could be outwitted by an autistic racoon. This of course, started as soon as society became aware of the existence of racoons, for they were not very bright themselves. It was very much a case of the blind insulting the blind.
Some time after Clementina’s girls were finally allowed gentlemen callers, she prompty announced that the buck would stop with her when it came to choosing a suitor.
----------------------
Anni 
