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caile-girl

Last seen: 2 days ago

elise caile is a woman from The Deep South, Georgia, USA

    if i were any more inert, i'd be a fossil.

Hi! I'm an INFJ personality type and a compulsive sandwich squasher. "Online" doesn't necessarily mean I'm "here" (I sometimes hide in the sofa cushions). If I don't respond to a message, it's nothing personal, I just get easily overwhelmed. Thanks for understanding.

facebook ~*~ Twitter. Cheers! :-)

For those who understand you, no explanation is necessa

  • Created Oct 01 •


    THIS UGLY STUPID STICKY THING WILL BE FIXED SOON. I PROMISE. MAYBE.

    Will try to answer some mail soon. Sorry. It just piles up more and more and turns into this huge, looming monster. Ha-ha.
    I think I'm afraid of it now. :-P~~

    STICKY THING in process of being reformatted. All unappealing aesthetics are temporary. ;-)

    MY POETIC SPORADICA
    Glass Box | Lust | Gates | Piano | Apathy
    A Thought | Door | Wallflower | Nowhere
    Dumbass | Ghost | Pieces | Echoes | Bridge

    MISC. OTHER STUFF
    Whale Cam | For My Sons | Archives

    Hover mouse over images for hidden commentary.

    ~*~
    Like sands in the hourglass, these are the bloggings of my blog.

  • Created Jul 01 2007 •


    How To Be A Complete Dumbass In Just 12 Easy Steps:
    (An Unfortunate But True Story)

    Step 1) Go to doc then decide you aren't ready to go home, you want to go for a "drive."

    Step 2) Head to the canal next to the Savannah river after heavy rains from the night before and drive crappy minivan on wet, slimy dirt roads.




    Step 3) Deliberately drive through as many mud puddles as possible, despite the fact that you're not driving a jeep or a truck.

    Step 4) Get stuck in a big-ass elbow-deep mud puddle about 50 feet long. Have passersby stare, shake their heads at your stupidity and look at you with pity while you fume in frustration, painfully aware that you are reinforcing the "helpless damsel-in-distress" stereotype.




    Step 5) See a few "suspicious characters" lurking nearby and get out 800,000v stun gun ~ literally named "StunZilla" by the makers ~ that strongly resembles a thin flashlight.

    Step 6) Turn it on to test it, holding the damn thing backward.

    Step 7) Stun the holy living F*** out of yourself. Gasp for air.



    Note: I tried to get a pic of the actual electrical charge but my hand was useless and the zapping sound was so loud I couldn't tolerate it long enough to take the photo. Just imagine sticking your palm against a bug zapper. What a rush! *Uggg...*

    Step 8) After 45 minutes of sitting in the mud puddle in humiliation and physical agony, finally get towed out backward by the city utilities dept.










    Step 9) Come home and find typing quite painful from stun gun shock to left hand and arm (plus a jolt to the heart and the occasional muscle spasm in the left gluteal region).

    Step 10) Decide to type anyway to explain why you can't type for a while, creating an oxymoron by typing why you're such a moron and therefore can't type.

    Step 11) Plan to get a 4-wheel drive truck next time around because what is mud for if not to play in.

    Step 12) Resolve to curb impulsive tendencies and crawl in bed and sulk, even though you brought it all on yourself ~ knowing full well that it won't be long before you forget all about this little "incident" and do something similarly retarded.

    That's my personal 12-step program for creative idiocy. (I think I just graduated.)


    Footnote: My son's first comment when I picked him up that afternoon from school was, "You went mudding WITHOUT me?!?" (Never mind my limp, lifeless arm dangling to the side, it was utter *heresy!!* that he didn't get to go this time.) I relayed that it wasn't as much fun as he imagined it.