Dolly's twelfth and a half entry; or, I can barely type this right now but I swear I'm not inebriated.

Just a quick update that I'm too delirious to give.
So, here's the Duchess with a synopsis, copied from her DA account. Deviant Art, not Dumbledore's Army. She wouldn't be caught dead in Dumbledore's Army, I'd say.




I should never be allowed to update a journal while in this state of mind. The things that have spewed forth from my mouth in the last two hours have been both nonsensical and frightening. I think it says enough that Facebook refuses to load my current status - which is a collection of the craziest comments known to man.

For example:
I am the Duchess of Dingle-Twang and my roommate is Princess Waffles, the High Sovereign of Delerity. We have declared war, determined the outcome, and decided that our two great nations will come together and unite - breeding very sticky children. They shall be depressed by the might of the Great Waffle Iron and be forced to inhale Prozac.

What a happy, overly-carbohydrated world we shall build.

For those who are unaware of what a Dingle-Twang is, please see the Wikipedia entry on St. Brigid's Day, however, I should hope at this stage in life the concept of a waffle needs no explanation.

Sincerely,
The Duchess




I'm going to add to this when I feel less like. . . this. Bahaha.

Dolly's twelfth entry; or, I promise I'm still alive.

It's been forever since I've updated this thing. I'm sure all of you lovely readers were thinking "Oh, I do hope she's still alive and that she hasn't been eaten by piranhas or mauled by tigers or something equally horrific." Well, readers dear, I have not experienced any of those terrible things, so you can go back to sleeping well at night.

Since I last wrote, I've moved out of the Burrow and into the Nest, for serious this time. I have a bed and everything. Well, mostly. I have a mattress, but that's still better than a cot. I also have my things here, which is lovely, because that means that I can have more than a bag full of clothes, and now I have candles and my 360 and other delightful things within reach. Oh, speaking of my 360, I've been trying to think of a name for it, but I've been coming up short. It really deserves a name; if the one room place that I live gets a name, my pretty gaming wonder should. So, you should help me out and suggest things. I would offer a prize for the person whose suggestion I choose, but I really don't have anything to offer. Perhaps a letter, handwritten by me? I'm sure that's exactly what you want. Or maybe you just give me your address and I'll send you something fantastic, like candle wax or a bit of fabric. :D Promise I'm not a creeper.

Erin and I have pretty much become nocturnal. The Duchess (that's Erin) didn't wake until nearly seven this evening, though I myself wasn't awake until about three. . .and then I went back to sleep until around five. We didn't go to bed until after seven this morning, so I suppose that's reasonable on my part, though not so much on hers.

We're a little unstable at times, but it's entertaining. When we haven't slept in a few hours and it's nearly sunrise, we get a bit delirious. For instance, last night the Duchess got on her kitchen broom and flew about the room, pretending to be Harry Potter when his broom went rogue, ending with a crash landing on her bed. As she was flying, she was shouting "My parents are dead! My parents are dead! I'm Harry Potter, I'm fantastic! Everybody loves me!" in a British accent. Theatrics aside, we often fling spells across the room. Thanks to be bad influence of the Duchess, I've begun using Unforgivables; I can't count the number of times I've Avada Kedavra'd her, not to mention the times she's done so to me. I'm better at being Crucio'd than she is.

I had to run across the street to the convenience store earlier, and I was a bit afraid. One time, the Duchess went alone and apparently the creeper behind the counter asked about me, asked if I was taken, and said "She's niiiiice" in, according to the Duchess' rendition, a voice that sounded a lot like Borat. Thus, I'm afraid (and with good reason, I'd say) to go to the store alone. However, her grace was in the bath, and I was growing a rather large headache from lack of caffeine, so I ventured out alone. Well, not completely alone; I called Mr. C and talked to him there and back, so I wouldn't feel alone. However, my precautions turned out to be in vain; Creeper wasn't there, the older guy was, and he's not nearly as off-putting. I returned triumphant, soda and Haribo Raspberries in hand. Her grace was pleased.

We've been watching The Tudors. Well, her grace has been watching The Tudors, and I've been listening to it, since she can't stand to do one thing like watch a TV show, even when it's as gorgeous as The Tudors. She has to be manipulating some photo or making some layout, and so I feel like I'm listening to a radio show. Oh, if only I had Netflix.

Last night we attempted to make ice cream. She got the idea online, and we got excited. "We have milk, sugar and vanilla! We can DO THIS." However, her grace being the genius that she is, realised that we couldn't; we had no ice. No ice cube trays. No ice maker. No ice cream. However, I'm no less of a genius than she; wrapping my spider-web cape about me, I swished into the kitchen and took the cupcake trays from the cabinet, filled them with water, and stuck them in the freezer.

After a wait full of The Tudors and internet, the water was mostly ice and we poured the milk and whatnot into the bag, and then put that bag into another bag full of ice, and shook. And shook. And shooook. For an hour. After an hour the milk was just frothy milk, not ice cream. We gave up, poured the sweetened milk into glasses, and drank it.
So. DELICIOUS.
I recommend unice-creamed ice-cream to everyone.

Dolly's eleventh entry; or, all I want is some rice.

Hullo, avid readers. I'm really just updating right now so as not to fall asleep. I'm sitting at the Burrow with my little sister Jill and Mr. C, who's asleep. He had driving school today; apparently, you have to go to driving school if you run a red light. We're all waiting around for my dad to feel less sick; we're supposed to go to a Japanese restaurant for dinner, but my dad had the worst headache, so he's laying in the cool air.

My other younger sister Faye went to her prom today. My dad and I took Big Red (that's the truck that he built; words can't do it justice, I'll have to post a picture) to M-town to see her and her date all dressed up, and to take pictures.

That's Faye and her boyfriend Wilson. Aren't they adoooorable? She looks too old though.

Pinning the boutonnière. She was just posing; she had no idea how to do it. His dad ended up pinning it for her.

She looks so happy. :] He actually managed to do the corsage. So proud.

So after that, we were supposed to have dinner, but my dad's headache got worse, so he headed back to the Burrow while Mr. C and I got sno cones to tide me over until we could eat. The sno cone place that we go to has the best flavours, and you can mix them up. They have one called Beauty and the Beast that's really just cotton candy mixed with blue raspberry. Of course, I couldn't get a usual flavour, so. . .

I noticed that they had a cream soda flavour, so I searched the list of flavours for a bit for a butterscotch. . . to make butterbeer, of course. I couldn't find it, but I did find rum butter. I had to try it, so I got the two flavours mixed, and it actually tasted exactly like what I'd imagine a butterbeer to taste like as a sno cone.

It looks a little like blood, but it tasted great. <3

On the way back to the Burrow, Jill regaled Mr. C and I with her tales of being G. She considers herself a gangster, which is hilarious because she's a little white girl with a very slight southern accent. It's pretty incredible. Her story started with "so there was this mannequin". Just now, actually she was talking about her woes when it comes to watching movies online, and how an ad always plays, but it's just the sound, and it's all about how to make shrimp. "I have to close the whole window, because if not, it's just old people talking about shrimp over and over."

That's pretty much all that's happened today. We're hopefully going to eat soon; the restaurant we're going to has incredible food. I'm starving.

Here's another little gem, just for lulz. Erin and I saw this van in the parking lot at Martins and she made me take a picture of it. In retrospect, I'm glad I did.

Dolly's tenth entry; or, what is this morning thing?

Hello, avid readers. :] It's currently after 10:30 in the evening and I'm still awake. I'm actually really proud of myself for this, since I've been awake since 6:30 this morning. Erin and I marathon slept yesterday and actually managed to sleep through the night; she got 15 hours, I'm not sure how long I slept.

We woke up and I actually had a breakfast of eggs and toast and tea. Imagine, breakfast food at breakfast time? The idea of referring to a meal based on the time of day (breakfast, lunch, dinner) had started to become foreign to me, not having been awake/hungry at regular meal times in a week. I think I got back on track today, though.

After breakfast (and a bit of lounging about, procrastination, and adding buttons to my skirt), Erin and I set off for Martins, since she needed to pick up a few things. On the way, we happened across the costume shop, and had to go in to ask if they were hiring (of course). We ended up spending a good hour in there trying on colonial and Victorian dresses, until we found matching satin dresses in different colors (hers maroon, mine green). We hunted down velvet capes and then stood in front of the mirror, flouncing our skirts and glaring and smirking, and pretending to be Death Eaters.

Alas, we couldn't loiter in the costume shop all day, so we again embarked on our mission to Martins. A half hour and a good 25 pounds of groceries later, we were back in Hogsmeade and the heat, complaining the whole way. (Well, mostly Erin. I kept trying to tell her that if she didn't think about the heat, she wouldn't feel it as much, but she never listens to me.) On the way back to the Nest, we passed a thrift store that Erin loves, and so went in. After a bit of looking she found a Burberry bag (we're not sure if it's real, but it looks lovely either way) for only $7. I had to do a bit of convincing, but she bought it. The clincher? The woman who checked us out was from England, which we found out after Erin asked her. Outside of Liverpool, to be exact. When we left the store I couldn't help but gleefully comment that Erin had just bought a Burberry bag from an English woman, and we both bounced around happily for a bit.

Around 2:30, Lee came by the Nest and sat in the cool air for a bit (it was really rather muggy and very hot today), and then he and I set out for the bead shop. He got a nice strand of tiger's eye and a crystal pendant, and gave me two of the four tiger's eye stones. They're really gorgeous stones. I'll have to take a picture later; I can't be bothered to get out of this bed at the moment.

We ate lunch and then went back to the Nest, and then he left, and not too long after, I made dinner for Erin and I. As I cooked, it struck me what a picture we make. She, sitting in her bed on her computer, I in the kitchen cooking what she'd asked for. I really am Helga Hufflepuff, and I finally admit it. I'd known she was a Slytherin to the core. :] She commented that she would have made a great man, and I asked why. Her response: "I work, bring home the money, sit on my ass and mess around on my computer, while the woman cooks dinner. It's perfect." That's pretty much how the past week has gone. :D

I think I've rambled enough. What's this, a post with no pictures in it? If you're still with me dear reader, I applaud you and ask you to comment below, telling me if your attention span was long enough to get you here. :] <3