In ones life one is bound to make one or two mistakes. Sometimes its mostly our fault or the fault of somebody elses that we stupidly put our trust in.   But in the end,  we usually  believe it was our own fault.
Deep down at least.  We’ll probably blame somebody else, but deep down...

I saw planes trains and automobiles today…that movie is tied to quite a few bad, lonely times of mine.  

They always play it at night  on  cable you know.  Ten, maybe eleven.  it’s the family friendly version ,  where when the charater Neal Page needs a rental car to get home and  is cussing out the lady at the front  desk, but of saying the  f--- word,  his vocabulary is more…creative.  

I’ll never be able to watch it without remembering  those cold times.  Never be able to remember it without the…regret.  But I suppose that’s for the best.  We’re the first people we need to learn to live with ourselves because ultimately…we’re the only person we’ll be guaranteed  to be with for the rest of our days, and the sooner we get tough, the sooner we get strong …the easier it’ll be to face the rest of  our days, because you never know what they’ll bring.  

*ahem*  now you don’t think I’m going to leave you like that?

May I say first that thrift shops rule?  omg I hate to bring up my findings for the second post in a row (okay, I like bringing it up, but I hate how it must make *you* feel in the presence of my awesomeness) , but I found  in the deep dark recesses of  the trashiest second hand shop in our area…a TRESURE.

Ok, okay, it’s a shirt.  But its not just any shirt. Its vintage.  

Not the greatest vintage shirt, its  pillow case white and it looks like someone made it into a short sleeve shirt  by hand (they didn’t do a bad job, but it still bugs me.)  But other then that, its still awesome.  Its kind of a cowboy style shirt  with these tinselly embroidered flowers  got on of those stiff  pointy,  genuine 60’s through 70’s collars, and  one of those older looking “dead brand”  tags that  tells you its defiantly the genuine article and not so cheap  reproduction, not  there’s any thing wrong with  them, they do provide you with the look,  but  there not the real thing.

God they really knew how to make clothes back then.  Bell bottoms for men were a great idea in their own right. 

I doubt I’ll ever wear it, like my other  vintage pieces (like the orange paisley house coat, or the sequined butterfly top…god I adore that thing)  there just for  show, show as in hanging in my closet’s “never to be worn” section,  my “ooo, purty.” section.  

But, maybe I’ll post them here sometime when I have the time.  For now, good night, its been swell.

Well, its been a long time since I’ve posted, so I decided to try to post every day.  (not possible you say?! well I’ll show you…you  unbeliever you.)

Like the other I found the most awesome trench coat ever.   Double breasted, olive green, and dirt cheap, NEVER WORN.   (thrift shops are awesome)  Wanna know the best part?   ITS US of A MILITARY. That’s right.  Nothings to good for our troops  because  I’ve got it so they GET NOTHING. (okay, maybe that’s going a little over board.)
And it’s a man’s jacket, which just makes it that much more awesome.

Yeah so I have a thing for  men’s clothes, so shot  me.  Good clothes,  and only in moderation.  My love for shiny  things  overrides me going full scale drag king.   (the female version of  a transvestite if you will)

An example of them, I hate to say, are those chicks  who wear  those gangish, pants around your knees, over sized base ball caps, inner city type of get ups. You know who you are. I mean,  it doesn’t look good on them, why do you think it’ll look good on you?


*ahem*  not…not that I’m judging.  You don’t need to take  offense, its only my opinion…or do.  I really don’t care.

we continue from last entry were Cole was teaching us all how to make  "tasty" rum cake, (without the rum) and his only observer who  walked out of the room out of the sheer madness of the situation...

(and, once again, we will tell you to that this may  not make any sense if you've just started reading our journal. If that should happen, we are not liable for lawsuit. continuing...)

"...Why HELLO Repunzel, how are you today?"
"Not so good doctor, i think there's something wrong with meeee..."
"I'm afraid you have cancer REPUNZEL."
" Oh no, not cancer..."
"Yes, and all your hair will fall out too."
"Oh nooooooo...."
"YES."
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."
Swan, who had walked in on Gabriel and Paul sitting at a table and playing with a couple of dolls they had found in the attic, looked at them with disgust. "Have you anything better to do?"
"Not really." Said Gabriel. "Bwa-ha-ha..." He said as he cut the dolls hair off, whitish blond hair falling to the floor.  As Swan watched he pawed his own shaggy mop nervously (which was now a relitively faint strawbarry blond from his previous accident.) , backing away slowly.
" Oh nooooo, not my hairrrrrrrrrr..." Paul said,  as his doll was being mutilated at the rath of Gabriel's.
"So whats up Swan?"
"Oh,not much, Jack Sparrow just drank most of the house's alcohol."
"Since when do you care about drinking Swan?" Gabriel said, finally puting the doll aside to look at him.
"True, true..."
"Stupid house always restocks it anyway...whats that smell?" Paul said in a disgusted tone.
"Yeah,  it smells like  some one threw a wino into a vat of burning cake and...plastic? Or is that vinager?" Added Gabriel.
"That would be your idiotic son atempting to make rum cake out of vodka."
"And you let him?!"
"I thought it'd be like always!"
The door burst open. "WELL HELLLO everybody! Guess what..."
"I  can't IMAGINE what..." Swan groaned.
"The kitchen is on fire!" He said with a grin.
"That's good?!"
And then, to make matters worse, the red door burst open. "Hello every one, and this is  Jack Sparrow here again..."
The door slammed behind him. he tried to open it  again  but it was locked shut.
"What..."
"The house is mad at you Jack." Swan Said in a sober tone
"Don't be silly...what has it to be mad at me about?"
"Umm, you drank most of it's drinking supply."
"Oh, THAT." they all stood in silence while the smell of smoke slowly drifted into the room. "Well this is tragic isn't it?"



 

 And now we start again in the Knock Turn mansion  (still alive and well thank you) with the new arrival of a certain songwriter's son, who has made himself right at home in the happy family. (and yes, we are aware that there will probably be confusion to the hopeless souls wandering in who may choose to read this  before previous sections, so we will advise those people NOT TO DO THAT.)

"HELLO, hi, and this is Cole Williams here on 'COOK BOOKS ARE FOR LOSERS' to teach all of you lovely and amazing people how to cook. Isn't that right DAD?"
Swan, the only person in the radius just glared at him from over the paper he was reading, perched atop a stool . "I don't know where you got this misconception that I'm your father. I'm the acclaimed record producer around here, I'm beautiful, for Pete's sake. And another thing, If you make me eat more of your disgusting..."
"And there you have it, an acclaimed record producer refuse to to INDULGE in the privilege of tasting my creations. So now, today, we are going to learn how to make rum cake." He said as he was already stirring a massive bowl of batter, throwing in ingredients like he was making cake for a all the starving children in Africa instead of a handful of people who were no where to be found.
"...um, Cole..."
"What is it SWWAN?" He said with the ever present go lucky smile on his face.
"We're out of rum."
"Awww, silly..." he threw his hands up in the air as he spoke, oozy wooden spoon still in his hand. "We should know by know that that stuff is BAD for us." And he emphasized the word bad by jabbing Swan in the shoulder, leaving a blob of yuck on his black jacket. A look of disgust came across his face.
"Heeeey...why the suit? My entire wardrobe will soon be ruined by you miscreants. And no, i did not drink all the rum--"
"Well, I guess we'll just have to ask..." Captain Jack Sparrow  walked in at that moment, chugging down the last of a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"...And there goes the last of the whiskey. I'll leave you to guess where the rum disappeared." Stifling a smile, he went back to his newspaper.
"You drank all the RUM???!" Cole screeched insanely, as Jack looked at him drunkly.
"So sorry mate, But all mine was gone. Now, you don't think I should suffer that tragedy my young friend? Why should your needs top mine?"
"But...it was ours..."
"Thats the other thing see, I'm a PIRATE, that's what I do.Anyway, I was going to keep this for myself..." He pulled out a bottle of vodka he had stolen from them, "...But since i was feeling generous i think I'll let you have this." He smiled and wiggled his fingers in fair well and slipped out the door, a blast of warm sea air hit Cole for a second as he held the bottle of vodka with dismay.
"What? But...but..."
"What's wrong Boo?" Swan said, amused at the situation.
"What am i gonna do now, make VODKA cake?"
"I'm sure you can manage to make it taste like all your other stuff...rum or no rum..."
"OKAY!" And he proceeded to start dumping the vile stuff in the batter. (but not too much, we don't want the batter to be too watery)

Swan, apparently unable to hold his laughter any longer, walked into another room...

To be continued, maybe if we're in the mood.   





Please, If you reads, leave comment . We be lonesome. 

Captain Jack Sparrow says: The fallowing may contain VIOLENCE.

As we continue on our story, Swan has finally given into pride and  gone up in the attic to get the most desired of hair products…

Oooooh, it’s disgusting up here…” Swan moaned to himself as he weaved through cobwebbed rocking chairs and  whatnots. He heard a slight creaking a bit away.
“Winslow? Is that you …” He caught  sight of the object of his desire. “Ah!”
But, to his utter inconvenience, the notorious Jack Sparrow was behind him, and as he was fondly opening the conditioner and taking in it’s fragrance when Jack came up and stabbed him in the back.
“O-ow! What...” and he fell to the floor with a thud.
“Hello everyone, this is where I ,once again, intervene to save the day. As you can obviously see, Swan was going to do something  horrible to Winslow…”
Josiah, who was sitting in the shadows in a pair of threadbare jeans with his long hair falling over his bare shoulders and back, spoke up. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Well Winslow, I consider my self a reasonably humble man, but we both have  to admit that old Jack saved yo life.”
“I’m not Winslow, I’m the flipin’ merman who hangs up here sometimes. WINSLOW isn’t even up here, he’s downstairs playing  chess with Gabriel.”
“GGGGGAAAAAA!” the sound of little marble men being strewn across wooden  floors echoed through the house from the floor beneath them .
“--And apparently he’s losing. He’s got quite a temper does he not?”
Swan groaned as he got up from where he was lying and reached behind him and pulled  the sword out of himself.
“I do beg your pardon, but aren’t you suppose to pushing up daisies just about now?” Jack commented to Swan.
“It’s the house, nobody dies and nobody leaves. Those are the two laws here. Anything besides that goes, psychopath pirates coming  out of walls and stabbing you  for example.” He emphasized the last part in Jacks direction.
“To be fair…I didn't come through a wall, I came through a door. A red one.”
“Oh, and that makes it ALL better! It doesn’t matter that I now have a big hole in my suit, one of my BEST suits take note, a WHITE suit to top of the whole thing off…”
Jack gave an uneasy look. “I’m…I'm...going.” And with that he ran back  out his door that he emphasized so much on, thus ending another entry of  Knock Turn Mansion.
 
 

It was a dreary rainy morning, and Swan and Gabriel were in the west end green house watering what remaining plants that hadn’t died that week. Lucky for them nothing in the house ever seemed to break down, so the green house roof wasn’t leaking. Much to Gabriel’s dismay, Swan was…

“I have no idea what your going to do about it Swan, it’s just conditioner. And your hair will be fine too… eventually…”
“But it’s not just a hair product Gabriel, it’s a LIFE STYLE. How would you feel if I cut the tips of your wings off?”
“I haven’t used them in ages, why would it matter?”
Swan gave a growl or annoyance, and put his head in his hands and started to cry.
“Look if your so upset about it why don’t you just get some more in the attic?”
“It’s filthy up there, I’ll get dirty.”
“why does that matter?”
“Because he’s a narcissistic snob, that’s why.” Said Paul as he entered the greenhouse and sat in one of the lawn chairs near by with a book and juice.
“Paul, I don’t think…”
“You traitorous rat, you did this to me! I’ll get you…”
“Oh, what are you goanna do, sick one of those henchmen who doesn’t exist on me?”
“Rat!”
“Look, I’m sorry, but you did tear up that song I was working on. It was a good song too…”
“Utter rubbish, you’re a worthless has-been, trust me.”
“DON’T TRUST HIM, HE STOLE MY MUSIC AND DESTROYED IT!” Someone outside the green house shouted in a distorted voice.
“Oh dear, looks like someone’s here to see you Swan.” Said Paul as he returned calmly to his book.
Swan, who was watering a bed of daisies someone had put in a bathtub so camp like, gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you think he’ll come in here? I don’t think I really have what it takes to face him right now.”
Gabriel looked at Swan with interest, “You have an enemy Swan?”
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“Who IS IT?”
“Oh, that’s just Winslow, it’s just a little tick between us, I just used his music without his permission once and ever since he’s been out to get me. Crazy as hell that one is, goes around dressed in a black suit and cape. He usually creeps around in the attic. Wonder why--”
“AAAAAAHHHHHGGG!”
“--He’s down here.”
“HOW DARE YOU DO THIS POOR SOUL WHAT YOU DID TO MEEEEEEEE---”
“So that’s the only reason you came down here?”
“I WAS ALONE, ALONE, ALL ALOOONEEE…YOU HAVE JUICE!”
Paul stared in alarm. “I…I have juice?!”
“GIMMIE!” And with a swipe of his hand he took the glass of juice and ran off.
“But I was drinking that!”
Swan shrugged as he went back to watering. “Nothing I can do about.”

Meanwhile, in the attic…

“THEY’LL PAY, THEY ALL PAY! BOOWAHAAHAAHAA…”
“Hey mister, could you not plot so loud? I’m trying to sulk.”
“WHAT SULKER DARE INTERUPT ME?”
“Me, the merman soaking in the tub in the corner. My name’s Josiah. Got a problem with that?”
“I WAS NOT AWARE THAT WE HAD PLUMBING UP HERE.”
The merman sighed, looking at the swirls of his long brown hair in the water, at his eggplant colored scales. “I don’t care, just stop yelling at me…plot silently or something.”
“WELL… YOU WON’T BE HEARING THE LAST OF ME.”
“Apparently not.” The Josiah replied, sinking farther into the water.

“YOU FILTHY FIEND!” Swan, the diminutive record producer with a fairly boyish complexion, stormed out of  the bathroom in a bathrobe from washing his  normally platinum blond hair, which was now a dingy red, hanging in wet strands  from his head to his shoulder.
Gabriel, the guardian angel of no one or nothing in particular, was  dozing in an arm chair nearby, his wings tucked  behind him. He jolted awake with Swan’s  yell.
“Whoza fiend now?” He said sleepily.
“Somebody put hair dye in my special conditioner!” He looked at him accusingly. “Was it YOU?!!!”
“Sorry, it wasn’t I. Now if you excuse me, I’ve been dusting  all morning and I’d like to get some shut eye.”
He then pulled the hood of his  sparkling sky blue robe, resuming his snooze. 

##############################################################################

“It was most certainly you, you can’t deny it!"
Swan was speaking to Paul, who was sitting in the kitchen polishing silver. Paul, even though he was the oldest member of the household, was still fairly good looking especially since he had grown a goatee.
“What purpose would I,Paul Williams, quirky songwriter of the 70’s, have putting  O’Leary’s beautiful red head hair dye in your special conditioner?” He put his fingers over his lips in mock shook. “Oops.” Laughing, he went back to polishing.
“Oh, you will pay for that. Security!”
“Who are you talking to?”
“My henchmen, who else? H--”a red door that  he was standing in front of burst open, knocking Swan off his feet.
“Hello, I’m captain Jack  sparrow, and this is where I come in to point out various flaws in the story line, thus saving  you all from going over the brink of sanity! Savvy?”
The two men just stared open mouthed at him as he stood in front of the door, the deck of the black pearl creaking behind him.
“Yes. Well anyway, you two are really the same man are you not? Then what exactly is the purpose of  your disagreement?”
“Your outrageous accusations irritate me. Henchmen, seize him!” Swan said, pointing at sparrow as he shouted for non-existant  men.
“That is the other thing, why call somebody who’s never there? Your only embarrassing yourself mate.”
“Oh your just the worse kind of person, may you rot in Hell!”
“By my understanding  Swan, that is where you yourself is going.”
“You don’t know that…”
“Unless I understand your story wrong,  you are a record producer who was filthy rich and didn’t want to get old, so he  made a deal with the devil in order to stay  young forever, giving his soul in exchange.”
"Nobody knows what your talking about
Paul, who was still shocked by  his sudden appearance, spoke out. “But, but you’re a pirate.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, I give up! Drown in your insanity people, I have better things to do.” Just like that he went back from where he had come, slamming the door behind him.