Yesterday my papa and I went out birthday shopping for me (I took Friday off because it's too much of a pain to miss AP classes) and I got to pick out lots of snazzy stuff.

Camille
Sense and Sensibility
Star Wars: Dark Force Rising
Seventeen Against the Dealer
Salamandastron (Redwall book)
Star Wars: The Approaching Storm
Cabaret (the DVD)
Celine Dion's All the Way: A Decade of Song
Moulin Rouge 2

Then when I got home, I called Alise and we went out for frozen yogurt and watched some of Cabaret. Awesome movie. . . some of the scenes in the beginning bear a resemblance to the Moulin, so my little brother (he's 10) said to me:

"I think this is a ripoff of Moulin Rouge."

Me: "This was made thirty years before, honey."

My obsession is gradually effecting others. I find it amusing that my brothers can sing/quote along to a movie they supposedly hate. And my younger sister. . . hmm, she tried to steal MR 2, but I refused to let her.

I need to start writing again. I've been a slacker lately. Not only my fanfics, but my original stories as well. I think I'm going to start writing children's stories. I know I can write those. Right now, when I try to write short stories that adults would read, I feel like I'm reaching outside myself. Well, I probably am. What do I know about life? I haven't even graduated from high school yet. Besides, I'm not the next Annie Prolux or Raymond Carver (although he is very distantly related to me through my papa. I'm related to a famous writer!) I'm (hopefully) the next L.M. Montgomery. If all goes well, I'll write things that children will treasure. See. . . well, it's like this. Crummy poem, ignore the structure, focus on the ideas please. I wrote it quickly.

I like innocence.

Pretty things delight me
And make me clap my hands
I'm afraid of shadows
And evil in our lands.

I like to laugh, not cry
Rosebud tea sets
Filled with herbal tea
Honey butter on my scones
Pass the sugar, please

I still love pretty dresses
I have a tiara on my shelf
I adore sparkles, glitter
And puppets on my bed

I like things that are beautiful,
And sweet, and pure, and clean.

Which is true. It doesn't require any deep analysis to find that out about my personality. But since the topic of the day is our facades, I have to admit that there's a side to me nobody really is acquantined with. If they even know it's there. It's the part of me that love the hectic atmosphere of the Moulin Rouge, and watches Cabaret without disapproving. A passionate part of me that just loves the noise and colour and brightness. It's the hidden portion of me that's not so quiet and clean, and I never let it out. Sometimes it colours what I do, but it's never in full control. So I keep on my pretty, conservative clothes, and wear a little makeup.

I love dances. Real dances, I mean, not the school ones where you sit in church dress and try to get your date to loosen up. Dances where the only illumination comes from the glittering silver ball in the center, and it seems smoky, even though you know a person with a cigarette hasn't ventured near the room since its construction. Where the pulsating beat of the rhythm floods your body and you can't help but dance with your hips swaying and body rocking, moving more than any of your friends thought you could.

I've only been to one of those dances.

I do like pretty, clean things, and I do like my world. But part of me wants so desperately to reach outside of it and just say "Screw you all," to all the conservative people I know. Which is quite a few. . . I've got two conflicting sides to me. The calm, caring, intellectual side that does well in school and will be a wonderful English teacher and possibly a children's author. And then there's the passionate side of me that just wants to run away to Paris and see what it's like there.

I know which side's going to win, because it always has. In choices and relationships, I always choose to play me that everyone knows. The quirky hopeless romantic with good grades and a ready smile. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Supernovas are violently gorgeous, but they fade so quickly. And those quiet little stars just shine on for a long time. It's a good life. But still. . . I wonder.

Either way, it's a show. Nobody can ever be who they truly are, because no one wants to see the real faces behind the masks. They want life to be boxed up into neat little categories, and you can't have that without people acting out their roles. Authentic selves are so messy. You can't stereotype them or predict the next move they'll make. Shakespeare doesn't ride strictly on his reputation. All the world is a stage.

Maybe, in the next life, we'll learn to live and accept each other for who we are. Not the person we nearly fool ourselves into believing we are. Just our pure, unadulterated selves.

But until then, we know the most important maxim in Moulin Rouge. It's not "all you need is love," as much as we might wish it. Nor is it "diamonds are a girl's best friend." Satine died behind the curtain in the pantomine. Not on stage. The show went on. And so it will . . . for all of us.

	You are Fozzie! Wokka Wokka! You love to make lame jokes. Your sense of humor might be a bit off, but you're a great friend and can always be counted on..
Take the What Muppet Are You? Quiz!

I love Fozzie! Wokka wokka!

I adore Breakfast at Tiffany's. It's my favorite.

Holly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul: Sure.
Holly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away.

I didn't go to Tiffany's, but I spent about fifteen-twenty minutes meditating and it made me feel oh so much better. I just went into my basement and lit a lemon scented candle and listened to Enya and thought about a garden filled with the perfumey scent of lilies. . . the way a waterfall sends little jeweled droplets of water on your eyelashes and hair. . . the frothy crest of an ocean wave and how it rides up and caresses the sandy shores.

Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff and looked down at the wind-swept canyon beneath you? You can't hear anything but the haunting pitch of the desert wind and your eyes are filled with the crimson sands beneath you. It's that sort of calm at the very center of your being that I seek. It's complete peace and simple joy. A violin playing a hymn. A daisy growing in soft, rich soil.

It's almost as good as going to Tiffany's.

Another hero. . . another mindless crime
Behind the curtain in the pantomine.
On and on
Does anybody know what we are living for?
Whatever happened?
We leave it all to chance
Another heartache
Another failed romance
On and on
Does anybody know what we are living for?

The show must go on
The show must go on
Outside the dawn is breaking on the stage
That holds our final destiny
The show must go on
The show must go on. . .

Inside my heart is breaking
My makeup may be flaking,
But my smile still stays on.

The show must go on
The show must go on
I'll top the bill,
I'll earn the kill,
I have to find the will to carry on!
With the
On with the
On with the show
On with the show
On with the show
The show
The show must go on. . .

Yes, the show must go on. That's the nature of life, isn't it? We expect it from each other, that we will carry on with our facades even when our worlds are crumbling at the edges. Especially when our worlds are crumbling at the edges. Today B.B. complained that I'm no fun anymore. He says I'm too serious, boring-- I never smile. Isn't he the one who gave me looks of strained patience when I did something stupid? I've been withdrawing more into myself lately, but there's really nowhere else for me to go. B.B. is wrapped up in his problems, Jeff is still there, but he's not much of a confident. . . all my other friends are not at school. Alise is pretty much all I've got at school.

I want to sail off into the golden horizon of dreams. I want to fall in love, I want to fly away from here. All I've got, though, is an over-active sense of self-pity and some high-flown phrases. I reach outside myself too much, and I wonder why I can't be content with what I have. Because I have so much, and I am grateful for that. Still, I can't help dreaming. I know it's innately selfish.

There has to be more to life than going day by day. There has to. I demand it, with all the youthful drive that I possess.

But what does it matter? The show must go on.

You are Come What May!

Love is very important to you. Music is one of

the many ways you express your love.

Take the Which Moulin Rogue Song Are You?quiz.

did you ever stop and wonder
about the lonely eyes
of the girl in the corner--
can you sympathize?
do you see her empty body?
can you hear her tired cries?
can't you see she's just a phony
hiding behind their disguise?

I love this song. It is me. :)




Find out which Moulin Rouge song you are.

take free enneagram test

You’re Michelle Branch! You’re the ‘girl nextdoor’ type of gal. You’ve got a down-to-earth feel about you, and you’re not afraid to be original. You’re still trying to find yourplace in life, but that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying the trip. Rich and famous? Sure! But you’re not gonna let that go to your head. ;D

What Kind of Pop Princess Are You? Quiz by Jonah

I am a subtle taste, like Pine. I am a quiet, fresh taste, almost more of a scent than a flavour. You will be aware of me, but not quite remember me without being reminded. Not that I'm boring; on the contrary, I'm just a little outside the ordinary. What Flavour Are You?

Blatanly stolen from our beloved Karita-esque girlie. . . it's quiz time!

Which of the Disney Princesses are you?

I love Celita. 'Nuff said.

infatuatedglitz: *gasps* Drunk at 7 in the morning?! Camille!
WistfulFlower: If I wasn't going to expensive college next year. . .::grumbles::
WistfulFlower: Of course! On Moulin Rouge!
infatuatedglitz: Don't try to fib to me, young lady! *waggles finger*
WistfulFlower: LOL. Okay, you got me. . . it was the absinthe.
infatuatedglitz: ABSINTHE! Good Lord above...what have I TOLD you child about drinking the Devil's wine?
WistfulFlower: :snorts:
WistfulFlower: As if you can talk
WistfulFlower:
infatuatedglitz: *grins*
infatuatedglitz: Do not twist this tale child! You have drunk the Devil's wine! you must be punished!
WistfulFlower: Runs off to the village of sin
WistfulFlower: I'll end up wasting my life at the MOulin ROuge with. . .a . . .Bohemian poet!
WistfulFlower: ::dances::
infatuatedglitz: If your beloved Father was here today *sighs and places hand over heart* What would he say? What WOULD he say child?
WistfulFlower: Probably "Always this ridiculous obsession with love!"
WistfulFlower: or "Hell yeah, take a hike, kid."
WistfulFlower: Your pick.
infatuatedglitz: My line!
infatuatedglitz: Don't take that tone with me young lady!
WistfulFlower: Okay! *starts singing Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend*
infatuatedglitz: He would have made you seen sense, that living with us and marrying a proper gentlemna was all you were worth!
infatuatedglitz: *is getting scarily into this*
WistfulFlower: *plugs fingers in ears* LA LA LA. . .I can't HEAR you!
WistfulFlower: lol
infatuatedglitz: BLASPHEMY! BLASPHEMY UNDER MY OWN HOUSE!
infatuatedglitz: *faints*
WistfulFlower: *throws Absinthe on you*
infatuatedglitz: The Priest! The Priest will clean the Divvil out of you, girl, if its the last thing he does!
WistfulFlower: He's too busy inviting people away from Montmarte
infatuatedglitz: *shrieks* I'm meltiiing! Meltiiing! of the world, the cruel world! Meltiiiiiiiiiing
WistfulFlower: Absinthe melts witches? I wonder if this would work on the Duke. . .?
infatuatedglitz: You will be forever damned child! Damned to wander aimlessly around, lost in the world of sin! I disown you! *dies with a dramatic flourish*
WistfulFlower: *looks at puddle on the floor.*
WistfulFlower: Funky.
infatuatedglitz: *dead*
infatuatedglitz: *is reincarnated as la Fée verte*
WistfulFlower: Yay!
infatuatedglitz: Ding Dong the Witch is dead!
WistfulFlower: You're the green fairy!
WistfulFlower: THE Hills are alive. . . with the sound of muuuuusic!
infatuatedglitz: *flitters around and passes Camille a bottle of Absinthe*
infatuatedglitz: With songs they have sung for a thousand yeaaaaaaaaars!
WistfulFlower: No, you won't fool the children of the revolution!
infatuatedglitz: *does little cutey dances* Don't say you can't can't can't!
WistfulFlower: "Cause you know you can can can!
infatuatedglitz: This convo is *so* going onto mah bloggie
WistfulFlower: I know. . .*shakes head*
WistfulFlower: Ah, Cels, what are we on?
infatuatedglitz: *flashes her can-can skirts*
infatuatedglitz: Absinthe?!
WistfulFlower: Oh.
WistfulFlower: Yeah.
infatuatedglitz:
WistfulFlower: I forgot. . . *sheepish smile*
WistfulFlower: And my first glass of. . . AB-SINTHE.
infatuatedglitz: *sparkly noise* i'm the green fairy!
WistfulFlower: No, I'M the Green Fairy!
WistfulFlower: *dances around lighting things up*
WistfulFlower: "One glass tells the truth. Too much of it lies."
infatuatedglitz: Whose been watching the DVD extras?
WistfulFlower: Not me. . . *whistles innocently* I have a life.
infatuatedglitz: *waves hand sheepishly* I have one too *coughcough* Sure I do!
WistfulFlower: Yeeeah, riiiight.
WistfulFlower: I believe you!
WistfulFlower: *cought*not*cough*
infatuatedglitz: *sobs*
WistfulFlower: Awww, poor Celita.
WistfulFlower: She no has a life!
infatuatedglitz: Ah, well, I have my Green Fairy, my Bohemians, my Poet and my Camille, karita, Hannita and Madi!
WistfulFlower:
infatuatedglitz: *sniffles*
WistfulFlower: All you need is love!
infatuatedglitz: A girl has got to eat!
WistfulFlower: All you need is love!
infatuatedglitz: She'll end up on the streets!
WistfulFlower: All you need is loooove.
infatuatedglitz: Love is just a game
WistfulFlower: I was made for lovin' Ewan baby, he was made for lovin' me!
infatuatedglitz: The only way of loving Ew baby is to pay a lovely fee [dammit!]
WistfulFlower: Just one night, will he give me just one night?
infatuatedglitz: There's no way cause you can't pay! [expensive college!]
WistfulFlower: In the name of love. . . one night in the name of love!
infatuatedglitz: You're a crazy fool he won't give in to you
WistfulFlower: He can't leave me this way!
infatuatedglitz: you can survive
infatuatedglitz: **cant
infatuatedglitz: actually, **can!
infatuatedglitz: without his sweet love, oh Camie
WistfulFlower: He can't leave me this way!
infatuatedglitz: *grins* I like this game! Twisting lyrics is nifty have you seen my 'Spend What May'?
WistfulFlower: Nopers!
WistfulFlower: Ooh, i have one.

"You'd think that peole would have had enough. . . of silly love songs"

"I watch Moulin Rouge and I see it isn't so, no."
infatuatedglitz:
infatuatedglitz: *applauds* Perffaith!
WistfulFlower: *jumps up* Love lifts up where we belong! *falls of her bed*
WistfulFlower: Oww.
infatuatedglitz: *giggiles*
WistfulFlower: And I. . . I drink all the time.
WistfulFlower: *hiccups*
infatuatedglitz: C&L: Never knew we could spend like this
Like we've never seen a bank before
Want to vanish inside a shop
Everyday we buy more and more
Listen to our credit card
Can you hear it sing?
telling us to buy everything
Fashions may change
Winter to spring
But we love it
Till Joe's dying day.

CHORUS:
Spend what may
Spend what may
Spend Joe's money
Until his dying day

Joe: They're spending me into an early grave
Never have been this broke before
Celyn loves eBay, Leah loves pink
Everyday they'll spend more and more
Listen to my card
can you hear it cry?
They can't decide on what to buy!

Leah: Millions of shoes!
Celyn: Or some Moulin Rouge?
C&L: Let's buy it all!
Till Joe's dying day

CHORUS til fade
WistfulFlower: LOL! LOL!
infatuatedglitz: This was a song between my, my best friend Lil [Leah] and my cousin Joe
WistfulFlower: *applauds*
WistfulFlower: Just because I . . . .I. . . . will always love Ew. . .
infatuatedglitz: *bows* Diolch!
infatuatedglitz: LOL!
WistfulFlower: How wonderful life is. . . now Baz's in the world. . .

Heroes forever and ever. . .

I'm listening to ELM as I type. Isn't it strange how music gets in your veins? The rhythm of the notes flows through you and seeks out the dancer in your soul. Ewan has this rich, rich voice filled with tonal subtlties that are so warm and tender. And Nicole's voice is simply breathy sweetness.

Now it's Fly Away. I love this song. There's something about it that speaks to me. And I don't have a bad life by any means-- my family loves me, I have lots of friends, and I'm going to college next year. But when she sings that she follows the night. . . I have to agree. I love the deep velvety blackness of the night. It's easier to find solitude underneath the stars. There's solace in the silence.

Night is my companion, and solitude my guide
Could I spend forever here and not be satisfied?

I realized today that I wished I could invite the GRRR's to my eighteenth birthday. I can just picture Madi and Hannah poring over my presents, Karita drinking too much pop and getting hyper, and me and Celyn having a pretend sword fight with frying pans. Ah, well. You guys can be with me in spirit. ;)

It's so strange to think of myself a woman. Legally, I'll be an adult at 5:38 AM on April 8. But then, aging a year is like coining new pennies. . . by the time you actually get a shiny copper coin in your pocket, it's July and the novelty has faded. You grow into age, and I imagine it'll be the same way with adulthood. I'm graduating in May. I start college in September. I'm living at home, so I'll still have my beloved laptop and room, but things will be different. My friends will start to get married and go to different schools. Me? I don't know. There's a bend in my road that I haven't approached. It curves around the birch trees and hangs there in the misty light, luring me towards it.

I remember when I was younger, my friend Erin had a poster in her room of a road lined with these beautiful flowers and the road bent at the back, and you could see the shadows from what awaited, but you never knew what was really there. I used to crane my neck, thinking that if I looked just a little harder, I could see what was there. But of course I never could.

All the rest of the GRRRs are fourteen. When I was fourteen, I was plain and shy, shyer than a budding flower in early May. I tried to see how small I could make myself, and see if I could curl up into something so tiny and insignificant that I could just fade away to . . . nothing. My books and fantasies were all I could hold onto. I'd never lived except through the printed word. And then. . . it's strange, but I fell in love with a boy with soft grey-green eyes and brown hair. As much as love as anyone could be at fourteen. We knew each other's spirits from the start. Or maybe we invented each others hearts and by accident, came close to the truth. He drew me out, brought me into his world on the stage. And I learned how to live without the shelter of my books.

He was actually my first boyfriend. . . but that's another story, for later.

I'm under orders to fill my blog up. So Madi, this is for you.

Albanygrace: the MR catergory has gotten downright sad
WistfulFlower: That it definitely has
Albanygrace: okay, now I'm pissed
WistfulFlower: What?
Albanygrace: You know my old story, 'Angel of the Snow'?
WistfulFlower: Yeah
Albanygrace: someone wrote:
Albanygrace: ick! ()Date: 2002-03-17Ch: 1Anonymous

I'm so sick of fics where Christain goes looney, they're too sad! No! He's not crazy in this one, it's the old lady that's crazy! Yeah, that's much better. Hehe, anyway good fic.




Albanygrace: ick! ICK?
WistfulFlower: That's. . .
Albanygrace: excuse me?
WistfulFlower: ugh
Albanygrace: that's just wrong. I have never, ever gotten an 'ick' before.
Albanygrace: I do NOT take flames well.
WistfulFlower: I don't blame you!
Albanygrace: okay, I'm a brat with diva-itis. I know. I apologize.
WistfulFlower: No, I got flamed the other day
WistfulFlower: It was fun. ::strained smile::
Albanygrace: which one?
Albanygrace: oh, the one were Christian moved on.
Albanygrace: I remember
WistfulFlower: yeah
WistfulFlower: It was great
Albanygrace: *growls* That's wretched. Why would people want Christian to be miserable forever?
WistfulFlower: I don't know!!
Albanygrace: See, if they loved him like we do, they'd want him to be happy.
WistfulFlower: Satine begs him to go on in the movie!
WistfulFlower: I don't think they got the movie!
Albanygrace: exactly! it's not like he's like, oh, she's dead, get your freak on!
WistfulFlower: I know!
Albanygrace: He didn't start winking at Nini and singing 'Hey baby hey baby hey'
WistfulFlower: LOL!
Albanygrace: she was like, you got to go on, and he was all, hells no!
Albanygrace: *sniff*
WistfulFlower: They just don't get it
Albanygrace: *giggles* that's a funny image
WistfulFlower: It is
Albanygrace: *Satine dying*

Christian: Die.

*Satine dies*
WistfulFlower: LOL!
Albanygrace: C: hey baby, hey baby, hey

S: CHRISTIAN!
Albanygrace: Okay, I killed it
WistfulFlower: :falls off her seat::
Albanygrace: Nini: Shakespeare! *sexually explicit scene*
WistfulFlower: ::snorts::
Albanygrace: S: Christian, how could you? *sobs*

C: But you died.

S: Oh. right.
Albanygrace: Okay, I'm going to stop before I hurt myself...
WistfulFlower: ::is having difficulties stopping laughing::
Albanygrace: breathe in, breathe out, Camie
WistfulFlower: Okay, I'm all right.
WistfulFlower:
WistfulFlower: Sorta
Albanygrace: good.
Albanygrace: this convo is SO going on my blog
WistfulFlower: I'll have to copy it
WistfulFlower: This is what my bro says:
WistfulFlower: S: I'm dying!
C: NOOOOOOOO!
S: *dies*
C: NOOOO! She's dead.

*waits a bit*

Oh, well. At least I'm inspired.
Albanygrace: What a good story this will make... Hollywood, here i come!
WistfulFlower: :snorts:
Albanygrace: Or did Hollywood not exist? *shrugs*
WistfulFlower: something
WistfulFlower: I know what the RRD's next fic should be!
WistfulFlower: A quest to save Christian and Satine from the clutches of the bad fanfic!
Albanygrace: stupid situations involving unplausible character changes/dialogue?
Albanygrace: Even better!

Early morning musings are really quite delightful. I'm mostly awake, but my eyelids are still a little heavy. At any rate. My room is looking nice-- and clean. This is a landmark event in the world of the Bohemian poetess. Usually she's too busy thinking about her ideals to concern herself with the floor of her room. I wonder how Christian did it?

My room looks like my personality. It reflects a lot of me. And today's topic of the day is a descriptive exercise.

It's painted a soft lilac, with a soft of impressionist border my papa painted, and there's blue carpet. There's pictures posted everywhere-- things I drew with my limited artistic skills, pictures from magazines and catalogues, and cards people have given me. A print of Monet's "The Artist's Garden in Versailles" hangs above a wicker nightstand. A Victorian toiletries set graces the surface of that. It's one of those heavy silver brush, mirror, and comb that's been decorated with roses. There's not much furniture, just a wicker chair and a large teddy bear that I love to sit and type on. My awards sit on the window shelf, and there are just enough trophies and a plaque, along with a newspaper article, to look properly well rounded. The bookshelves are overflowing with favorites and odd sundry books I've picked up here and there. Photographs of dances limit themselves to a shelf in my doorless closet, the same place where my Star Wars obsession makes itself known.

The whole room seems to convey a dainty femininity and girlish hopes and desires. Everything from the glass ruffles on the lights and the ivory tulle wrapped around the cast-iron designs on the bed, softens the sharp angles and blocky furniture and gives it spirit. A calendar of London and pictures of beautiful places should hint at the desire to travel, but somehow they seem content to be domestic in this room. It almost seems that the whole place is a snowglobe, pristine and just waiting for the glittering snow to fall.

But a real girl lives here, and her books and clothes get thrown of the floor, and pictures do fall down. Sheets get mussed and siblings invade with food and movies, but right now, the only thing out of place is the occupant. Me in my plaid bottoms and t-shirt from the musical, my red-gold hair falling messily out of the sleek ponytail it was in last night. Luckily, my room doesn't ever ostracize me. Thank heaven for that.

Ah, well. Time to hop up and start doing things. I think I'll do Pilates this morning. It's nice to work on having a firm stomach. (Which I am certainly not in posession of)

Just another typical conversation between me and Ceyln. . . ::shakes head:: What WERE we on?

infatuatedglitz: Camiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!

infatuatedglitz: You *left* me!

WistfulFlower: STUPID AIM!

infatuatedglitz: *giggles*

infatuatedglitz: Diolch is Welsh for 'Thank You'

WistfulFlower: *giggled* I'm so nice to my computer

infatuatedglitz:

WistfulFlower: Niftiness!

infatuatedglitz: Schnazz

WistfulFlower: Splendiferous!

infatuatedglitz: *is really hating her computer right now*

infatuatedglitz: Spec Spec!

WistfulFlower: *kicks Celyn's computer*

WistfulFlower: Fantastique!

infatuatedglitz: *thwacks Camie's lappie-top*

WistfulFlower: On guard!

WistfulFlower: *engages in furious battle*

infatuatedglitz: *drags out swrod*

WistfulFlower: Touche!

infatuatedglitz: *realises and drags out sword*

infatuatedglitz: *battles*

WistfulFlower: *hurls frying pan*

infatuatedglitz: *ducks*

WistfulFlower: Look! It's a little frog!

infatuatedglitz: *throws cattle prod*

infatuatedglitz: FROG!

WistfulFlower: *ducks and heads for frog*

WistfulFlower: Wherever there is frog, Duke is not far behind!

infatuatedglitz: LOL!

infatuatedglitz: Eek! Fat man doing backflips!

WistfulFlower: AHH! NOOOO!

WistfulFlower: He's in conspiracy with the Duke!

WistfulFlower: Get HIM!

infatuatedglitz: *lunges*

WistfulFlower: *throws frying pan at Duke*

WistfulFlower: *WHACK! WHACK!*

infatuatedglitz: *bounces off fat man's belly*

WistfulFlower: *does the mad can-can*

infatuatedglitz: Whee! Trampoline!

infatuatedglitz: *boings*

WistfulFlower: Look! I've gained the ability to do backflips! Xena Diamond!

infatuatedglitz: Aieeaieaieaie! *tries to make funny Xena-cry*

WistfulFlower: *kicks Duke*

WistfulFlower: Ooh, look, there go his false teeth!

infatuatedglitz: *happily bounces*

infatuatedglitz: Teeth!

WistfulFlower: *watches teeth bounce* Wow. . .

infatuatedglitz: *decides to can-can with Camie*

WistfulFlower: CAN YOU CAN CAN CAN?

infatuatedglitz: WE CAN CAN CAN!

infatuatedglitz: CAN YOU CAN CAN CAN!

WistfulFlower: I CAN CAN CAN!

WistfulFlower: Don't say you can't!

infatuatedglitz: *giggles and plays with flase* Lookie, I'm the Duke

infatuatedglitz: 'CAUSE YOU CAN CAN CAN!

WistfulFlower: *Lowers herself down from the ceiling on swing* The Duke is glad to pay for looooove

infatuatedglitz: He's too wimpy for fighting duels

WistfulFlower: But I prefer a man like Ewan. . . who doesn’t need to pay with jewels.

infatuatedglitz: YEAH!