Saturday, November 27, 2010

Letters from Offspring #1: The Bruise

We're thinking we'd be rich if we made desk chairs with seat belts. Because when we get notes from Offspring 1, we need to buckle up first. If you'll recall her last missive, she mentioned she had gotten a bruise. Kate decided to ask why...well, after they talked about shoes.

Strap in girls...though, for the record, there's nothing we can do about the bees.

xoxo, K&L



I was just wondering if Lydia had seen THESE? Cos they are MADE of awesome. And wood, but mostly awesome!

Love, Offspring

Offspring #1!!

Kate here...I have to say even I think those shoes are awesome. Feathers have that effect on me.
We want to post, with your note. But, in addition...would you like to tell us about The Bruise?? You mentioned in in The Badger Incident and now our readers want to know all about how Offspring got injured. Plus, only you can tell such a story...

Please please let it include these shoes and possibly marshmallows and bees would be fantastic, though not totally necessary. OH! And maybe a collander.

xoxo Kate



Wow. So if we made say, heels out of loads of feathers would you be really really epically happy even though they tickle your feet like nothing on earth (but hey, at least they'd be better than lego! Lego shoes = BAD PLAN, been there.) (Have you ever tried making six inch stilettos out of lego? Cos if you haven't, I can tell you it is HARD) (Even when your feet are roughly the size of an average lego brick, but anyway MOVING SWIFTLY ONWARDS)

Oh my, The Bruise! I would very much like to tell you about the bruise and bees and marshmallows and collanders and those shoes! It was a pretty epic bruise even if I do say so myself (and I just did.) I will get right on it, as soon as I have beaten this sociology essay into submission. Using this keyboard. If I don't reply in a week, assume it killed me, ok?
Offspring #1

Listen, three eyes, don't try to outweird me, I've had stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.

Hi Kate and Lydia! Sorry I'm slower than a tortoise in treacle (NOT A GOOD DESSERT.)

There are random men in my house.

Now, before you lovely people begin The Flailing Extravaganza that happened when I said this last night and start demanding I call some variety of Authority to come and GET THE PEOPLE OUT RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND, I should mention they have destroyed the kitchen. That’s right; there is now an empty space where the… everything used to be.

Isn’t it weird what you pay people to do for you?

I offered to do it myself with a sledgehammer, a piece of string and seventeen small pieces of cheddar, but everyone yelled NO at the same time and now my ears are ringing and apparently the reason for that is because we want to be able to put things back where the things were in the first place and still have the rest of the house standing and everything to not be decorated in various shades of yellow. I like various shades of yellow, but there you are. I also like crawling around in cupboards and rainbows and that feeling you get when you get rid of the sleep in your eyes first thing in the morning because ahhh, it’s so satisfying! Even more satisfying than yelling at the gerbils in my brain and having them actually listen to me. Geraldine says hi.

Geraldine is the gerbil in charge of my balance (and lack thereof) (and I just used thereof in a sentence. I feel knowledgeable! YAYNESSITIES!) Geraldine is a pain. And responsible for Oh. So. Much. Including the reason why I am no longer wearing my one pair of smart, fancy shoes. They have heels. They make me feel like a giant. They are hard to walk in. MADE OF ORSUM They are also not these shoes! (and yes, it is a big link because I know NOTHING about technology that can’t be told with a hippo analogy. Seriously. Ooh, and glitter! Glitter’s great, it’s like little speckles of happiness and mini stars created by duck babies because they get bored and have to make something. Like ducky arts and crafts! (I’m distracted by shiny objects. You can tell, can’t you?)) ß And by the way can I draw your attention to the double brackets? I’m getting all fancy with punctuation!

Our oven didn’t work, and the cupboards were falling off. *ahem* ANYWAY MOVING ON!

Yes, back to Geraldine and her asshattery. (A favourite word of mine) Because I briefly touched on the subject I was kind of going to talk about and went off on a tangent like they taught us in Maths, I hate maths, Always hated maths. My maths teacher was one of the most awesome human beings in the history of EVER I swear he had giraffes in his brain instead of gerbils. That HEIGHTENS the awesome. By oh so much. His head wasn’t even weirdly elongated or anything, so I think it was a TARDIS, which adds doctor who to this festival of awesome (or the more awesome spelling of awesome which is orsum and oh yes so much orsum in one place I may have to move on before the world implodes from a too great concentration of the word orsum, oh yes, moving swiftly forwards!)

What was I going to be talking about? Oh yeah, bruises! Or more specifically, The Bruise. The Bruise was cause by Geraldine and also the little imps of chance! Now, usually I love the little imps of chance, especially when I have the exact money for, say, those gummy bears I’ve been craving all day (who cares if I can no longer get the bus home and it’s raining? GUMMY BEARS, people! You have to have priorities!) or that I have not finished that sociology essay because it has been kicking me six ways to Sunday, but we get help on it in class anyway! There’s something to be said for leaving your homework to the last minute… Because homework is like a marshmallow. No, really. It’s all squidgy and sticky the night you get it, but after say, a week of sitting there it’s rock hard and… and this is a really bad analogy.

Homework attracts less bees at least. But only just. I like bees! They’re all buzzy and happy and don’t sting you unless you bite them first. Or sit on them, like Offspring #2 did that one time. And I’ve read the secret life of bees and therefore I know you have to love bees because they are awesome! And also so they don’t sting you, but how could you be afraid of something fuzzy in a yellow and black stripey jumper? Except wasps, but that’s because wasps are mean. They’re like the mean kids in the playground. The sweet little kids look all cute and fuzzy and only kick you/go tell on you if you’ve done something. The mean kids kick you whatever.

What was I supposed to be writing about again? Um… oh yeah! Bruise! So there I am, minding my own business (of which I have much, oh yes, it’s not mostly schoolwork (which has been kicking my arse recently) at all… nope…) talking to my friend, She Who Wears Hoodies, and going to buy some Underage Teenage Girl T boxes, which is what I’m calling mars bars and lucozade nowadays, when kabam!

Hello ground, you look odd up close. How did I get here? Why? What is my purpose in life?


Well, thanks. Aside from that?

Get off me before I bite you again, hear? Snitch…

The ground is very territorial. Only small things are allowed on it and I am five foot six and a half. (The half is very important. It makes me feel like a supermodel, despite the fact I have curves and eat chocolate.)

I got off the ground.

It turned out my bag strap had broken and tangled around my legs, and then my shoe had come off and tripped me over and straight into a puddle of ooze. Oozeish ooze. So, while She Who Wears Hoodies laughed, I assessed the damage.

Incorrectly apparently. Because while I’d realised I had a grazed foot (?!?) three scrapes on both elbows and a pretty impressive bruise on my arm, I did not find the enormous blood stained bruise on my knee until that night. During dinner.

Offspring #2 was NOT amused.

I even have PICTURES of this epic bruise, but they cannot convey the sheer awesome that was the bruise, at least the size of my fist – which means at least half the size of my HEART (there’s some trivia for you,) – and oozing. Oo. Zing. There was not much ketchup eaten that night.

Another reason for not showing the pictures is that some people may be eating. But I have to admit, if you still eat or drink when reading The Kate And Lydia Awesome Blog you are either a) New, in which case hi, how are you? Sorry, scuse me, don’t mind me, coming through or b) a braver person than me.

The next day at school I was walking down a corridor when I showed my friend, She Who Wears Hoodies the bruise and it actually caused a crowd. Not just because my legs look like they belong to King Kong on a bad fur day either. Because it was EPIC.

And that, my friends, is why bruises are awesome. Especially the way they turn every colour of the rainbow in reverse before they leave you. Oh. Even. Yesser. Stop looking at me like that. What? Dear Maude.

Ah, the things you find in cupboards at church.

Offspring #1

(P.S, Sorry it took a while. Life is kicking me twelve ways to Sunday which you wouldn’t think was possible BUT IT IS and yes, things. Including spending almost three hours in specsavers. Seriously. You’re quite possibly GAINING awesome, btw. Just so you know! And congrats on the Best Miscellaneous Blogitude! And good luck on the shredding! And have another exclamation mark!)

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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