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In INDIA, almost all mariages are arranged. Even among the educated middle classes in modern, urban India, marriage is as much a concern of the families as it is of the individuals. So customary is the practice of arranged marriage that there is a special name for a marriage which is not arranged: It is called a “love match.”

Quotes from real Indian girls:

“Of course I care. This is why I must let my parents choose a boy for me. My marriage is too important to be arranged by such an inexperienced person as myself. In such matters it is better to have my parents’ guidance.”

“Meeting with a lot of different people doesn’t sound like any fun at all. One hears that in America the girls are spending all their time worrying about whether they will meet a man and get married. Here we have a chance to enjoy our life and let our parents do this work and worrying for us.”

This is why I must choose a mate for my dear Olive. I hear India is the future of our world.

Signed,

Olive’s guardian (guardian being defined as defender),

Athena O.

*All credit (referring to the borrowed paragraphs above) goes to the author whom I was intending to plagiarize from, but later decided to credit, Serena Nanda. *

I remember when I was IMing my friend Setna, and we were talking about his gaming addiction. Because of this addiction, I hadn’t talked to him in years. The exchange was fast, because Setna had mastered typing in cheat codes for his favorite games. I was trying to read what he had typed to me, when all of the sudden “BRB” flashed onto my computer screen. I almost had a seizure because of the annoying day-glo font colours he was using.

I sat there for an hour trying to do my reading assignment, but I kept glancing back at the screen, hoping he had come back. All of the sudden Mother called me to make hamburger helper. This was depressing. I am vegan. Still, more depressing was that I had just realised Setna pulled the same thing he did four years ago. He had broken his promise to “be right back.” I still wait and see, and am constantly logged onto my IMing programme. Setna, are you still out there? Are you playing WoW now or something?

The Dauphin needs to make some money cleaning houses so that he can go on a hike with Athena.

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So tell me more about yourself.

Well, I am pretty awesome when I’m high, but other than that, I have a lot of fears. I am really scared of a lot of things and am always anxious when not high. I have a dog, but in reality, I’m actually scared of my dog because he thinks we’re playing a game when I run away and squeal. Also, I have hyper-pica which is why I eat pencils and myself. Also, I really can’t  handle social situations because I am an INTJ so I’m really irrational.  I usually need a social interpreter, and I found one who is also my counselor.

Uh, alright that’s enough about that. Did I hear you say you ate yourself?

You’re making me feel really uncomfortable, man.

Why should we hire you?

Well, I really like cleaning windows because I use baking soda so that there’s no streaks and I pride myself in how good I am at it. Also, I really suck at vacuuming because I have bad eyesight because once I poked myself with a pencil I was chewing. Well, there are probably plenty of people who are better than me at this sort of stuff, so sorry that I’ve wasted your time. No, I’m really sorry.

Um, alright, then next question.

Why do you want to work here?

Um, I don’t really. I actually want to hike the Appalachian Trail with my social interpreter, but it turns out that I need to have some money, because I’m not assertive enough to forage for berries.

What would you say is your biggest weakness?

Well, this is like really hard for me because I have so many weaknesses, like how hard I work, but when it all comes down to it, my biggest weakness is that I am seriously the Devil’s advocate. No, seriously. Like I was arguing with someone and I told them that because of  something this other thing was true, and what I said really made sense in truth, but then the person was all like, “Dude, you don’t believe in Evolution.” Also, I can’t get along with people who don’t understand that almost everything I argue I actually don’t believe in, which means that I can’t get along with almost anyone.

Okay, we’ve thankfully reached the end of this interview, do you have any questions for me?

Well, I was blanking out during the interview and now I have a question that I totally want to look up the answer for, so can you go google my question? “If a female got sex change could she join the Navy SEALS?”

Would you please just leave if you have no questions about the Moldy Maids?

“I met a little gurly-

Her toes was kinda curly-

She clungs to the walls…

Like a FRUITBAT!”

And Clare Bare himself singing it…

Oh well I’m too lazy to bother with that for the moment…

Above: The Dauphin is still recovering from his injury as we speak.

It has now been announced that there is an official ban on the wearing of heels that are greater than 1-inch high after that Dauphin was greatly injured by Princess of Idioclast’s 5-inch stiletto heels earlier today.

Note: Some people have commented that the Dauphin does not appear to be in health considering the size of his leg. These allegations are untrue. We had forgotten to mention that the cut is on the inside of his lower leg, coming from the calf all the way to the ankle. Long live the Dauphin!

But I wouldn’t even write a thousand words anyway, so make that 600 words.

The story would be about Oliver’s new favorite thing–Strawberry Iced Coffee. It would seem a lot like sandwiches with onions in them, oatmeal, or grape banana smoothies.

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Athena told me that you can tell who truly loves you by how many cards focused on your loving relationship you get in January.  She also told me that I only initiate conversation or come over to people when I am trying to get something from them.  So, today, Oliver sends Athena a Valentine.

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Okay, so it turns out that the layout goes completely crazy when I post a picture of this size, so when I’m not so lazy I’ll try to fix that.
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A certain contributer didn’t want the author to disclose who they are as they made their gender evident in the story.  So,  I’m using Bob’s account.

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This is a story of a man who owned a rubber chicken factory. The significance of rubber chickens is amazing. The most common type is a comedic prop, but this man had a

factory that cooked rubber chickens for social gatherings. He didn’t quite get that they tasted bad because he got tons of orders for them and never tasted them himself,

being vegan. Nonetheless, the significance of rubber chickens to the author is outstanding. The author once knew a little girl who left her sister’s prop rubber

chicken out on the lawn and consequentially got it accidentally chopped into pieces by a lawn mower. She did keep the head though, after an obsessive compulsive person threw

away the rest of the body when it was lying around on a coffee table. However, she threw it at the base of her holiday tree and lost the head. It is good though that she

thinks that different pieces of the chicken are doing the cha-cha in a landfill. The author cannot be a hypocrite(although she has laughed at these events) because a

similar thing happened to her with her library card.  She did get the pieces back, taped together though. She was more devastated than this rubber chicken girl, as the

number of the card was d011728035.

Anyway, it is quite a coincidence that this man was at a library, and at this exact time, the author could be seen crying because she had given her library card to an evil

librarian who would, in due time, cut up her library card. The man we are talking about’s name is Clarence Vent Cutler. His name was so similar to that of someone the

author knows that the author only wrote this because of the similarity. Clarence wanted to write a book on Jainism, so he was quickly reading every book in the

“spirituality” section whilst spinning his favorite wheel on a children’s game. The wheel’s name was oddly the wheel of monotony.

At about this time, the author was asked why she wanted to keep her library card. She responded that it was because of the number. The librarian was looking for “This is

the last object my friend touched before they died,” or “Obama touched this library card.” The librarian was most likely an Obama supporter for geographical reasons, but the excuse

would probably have worked with McCain too, at the time.

Anyway, at this time Clarence won a free pet-pet paint brush on his children’s site. The problem was: Clarence was way too old to play this Internet game, and from a life

time of being addicted to these games, had many, as he called them, “violent hallucinations.” “Violent hallucinations” here means that he would go to a place of battle in the game with his newly painted

pet-pet and all of the sudden,  foaming at the defiling mouth, start thinking about how he could have had a better life if he had not been addicted to this game. Of course,

these thoughts are silly, because Clarence found no real meaning in life except for owning a rubber chicken factory, pretending to be spiritual, and playing online games.

If he had had some real goal other than this, he would have realised it and succeeded at whatever it was beyond your wildest dreams, just as he did on children’s Internet sites.

At the time, the author was crying. Someone commented that if anything really tragic happened to the author, she would probably just die from sadness. Of course, this is

not true. That’s why the author got the idea to call the number d01-172-8035. This is actually a work of mostly fiction, so please do not try to call this number, as the

author cannot guarantee it is even a valid number. Anyway, in this story it is very obviously Clarence’s number.

“Hello, is this my library card speaking?”

At the time, Clarence was forced out of the library for mobile phone use, and forgot to sign out of the online world. He quickly hung up and signed out.

The author was so sad that they decided to stop slumping in the bathroom stall and go lay under the sinks, as they were leaky and more depressing. Don’t ask why, but

Clarence(the real Clarence) told me that depressing things when you are depressed is a good idea. Somehow this contradicts what I would think, but I’m not too bright.

Clarence’s phone rang once again.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Sniffle.

“Is this my,” sobbing ,”library card?”

“Uh, what’s that? This is Clarence Vent Cutler, owner of Clarence’s Fine Rubber Chickens. How many fine chickens do you want today? Are you interested in our ‘Foul Fowl’ deal?”

“But, but, your number is d011728035?!”

At this time Clarence hung up quickly.

He also changed his number.

The author moved to Mekong with her lesbian girlfriend, and Clarence continued to have horrible hallucinations(which were in fact, not hallucinations but unfounded regrets.) But now

actually starting to become delusional, he had periods where he was convinced he was a library card.

He did write a book, though. And convinced many tormented souls to become more like him and live a regretful life.

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