Mass Denim

Denim Vestments guys who are they? Yesterday we were watching the mass for Sen. Kennedy and noticed a few younger guys wearing denim vestments. Does anyone know who these guys are?

Is this opinion of girls acceptable from a males perspective? Is it wrong that if i had a choice between a scruffy, rag wearing,broken nailed toned, dirt covered prehistoric girl or a manicured, conditonered, hair straightened, lip glossed denim wearing typical modern mass produced of the production line girl, I would choose the prehistoric girl ANY day of the week

I think the tension on my bobbin is too loose? I just recently got a Babylock denim pro from my grandmother and it worked fine when she sewed me a dress, but now any time I go to sew, the top part looks fine but when I turn it over there's MASS amounts of knotted hanging string. Is it the tension in my bobbin, and if so how do I correct it?

Where can I find such bermudas? http://www.yoox.com/item.asp?sec=1&YOOX=MASS+DENIM&dept=denimmen&tskay=361A2971&rr=1&cod10=42151830OD&sts=sr_denimmen80

Ummm was I the only person in the world who didn't know this? So hey today i was bleaching denim shorts and found that when you pour mass amounts of bleach directly onto denim it turns bright yellow. I was just wondering if like other people knew this and i was like the only one who didn't. For the record i was just trying to make them white but after you wash them their kinda nice. lol

Need help With science Project for junior cert.Any info ? 1) Marble chips react with a dilute HCl acid solution. Co2 released.Investigate how particle size affects the speed at which the mass is lost from the reaction mixture as gas is released. 2)Clothes made from certain fabrics , e.g denim , are not suitable for hill walking or mountain climbing.Carry out an investigation to compare the thermal insulating properties of Three different fabrics when they are dry AND wet.Denim MUST be included as one of the three fabrics. Thanks ^_^

Are good jeans going extinct??? I HATE stretch jeans!!? What's with the stretch denim?? I can't seem to find ANY of the durable heavy woman's jeans anymore. Are they gone for good? I think it's more than a fad, I'm concern that the mass distribution has been altered for only the stretch denim. Does anyone know what this is about and is there any end insight???

For those who base their lives on a THEORY, how do you explain this? The Theory of Gravitationalism claims that on Earth things fall down. Well, how does your theory explain birds? They can fly and don't fall down. This proves that Intelligent Falling is the true explanation of the phenomenon of falling. Prominent scientist Em Adjineri has demonstrated that the Theory of Gravity is just a theory, and therefore is only as valid as any other theory put forth to explain falling. Em Adjineri, along with Sue Denim, support the teaching of Intelligent Falling as an alternative to the Theory of Gravity. Intelligent Falling explains that Godliness is directly proportional to mass because God created protons and neutrons in his own image. Therefore, things fall because they are Godly. Birds, on the other hand, are Satan's messengers and that is why they don't fall. Angels don't fall because they are so Godly that they are attracted to God, who lives in the sky. Take that, gravitationalists! Riegan: read my profile. 2nd paragraph.

riddle for chemistry - homework help? i need to find the element that fits this description 19. why is this metal used in magnets, low melting alloys, and pink antidiarhireal medication ? I make it my buisness to know! 20. this halogen is a liquid at room temperature and though its symbol may remind you of the cold its compounds serve as flameproof agents 25. a rather inactive gas this royal family member makes up nearly 1% of our atmosphere it is used as inert gas in lightbulbs (when N and O are gone, filament lasts a lot longer) 28. most deadly poision was used in apollo program to power equipment on the lunar suurface. critical mass of the fissionable isotope can blast you to the outer limits of the solar system 31. just ten protons short of a full deck welders know this steel-strengtheening transition metal as "molly b. denim" 32. albeit the most abundant metal in earth's crust yet so difficult to extract from its ore taht this hsiny lightweight used to be more valuebale than gold. now everyone (even all you minimum waste advocates) treat it like trash even one answer is appreciated thanks

So, in your opinion, does God exist? I am a high school sophomore and this is becoming an everyday struggle with me. I was raised as a United Methodist, and went to church regularly. There was never any doubt in my mind that a loving and just God existed. Now, I am having serious thoughts about it. I am really doubting the presence of God in our world. First, needless to say, our religion is interpreted in many ways. What I don't understand is the mass conservative dominiation of our demographic. My questions are this: does God really have a distinct plan for us? Is His alledged Word true, as it was not written by He Himself? The Bible is NOT the direct word of God, you know. It was written by the authors of that particular book, aside from direct quotes from Christ. The other source of questioning for me is the teachings of God. Does God reallly believe that men are superior to women? After all, most churches prohibit the ordination of women. Does He really condemn wearing two different clothing materials at the same time? No more cotton tshits and denim jeans for me, I guess. Does He actually support the excommunication and so-called "conversion" of homosexuals? I am bisexual myself, so this is where it gets REALLY hairy. Also, creationism creates a problem too. The Big Bang and Darwin's Theory of Evolution can be proven. Creationsim cannot. So then, itsn't more logical to say that there is no God?

How an Underwear Malfunction Helped me Understand Christian Fundamentalists? I don't know how it happened. Maybe I had been careless after my last trip to the loo; maybe it was the lack of support in modern underwear; or maybe I had been a little too enthusiastic bounding off the bus at the Drummer Street bus station. Whatever it was, I rapidly realized that something was not in its proper place. One of my secondary sexual organs had slipped from its safety harness and was now uncomfortably trapped in the middle of a sawing motion between denim and cotton, the skin rubbing raw in its lethal fabric embrace. This was unbelievably painful, something like I'd imagine giving birth to be, except that unlike a woman in labor I couldn't scream, or ask for an epidural. I desperately wanted to slip a hand down there, rummage around and free my tortured testicle, but I was in the middle of a crowded street, and had nearly a mile to walk until I would be in the privacy required to achieve release without ending up on Cambridgeshire's Register of Sex Offenders. And so I was forced to walk on, in agony, looking like John Wayne with a broken ankle. My first thought was one of anger at society. Why shouldn't I be able to just reach down, do what I need to do, and walk on? No, instead, I had to suffer for another fifteen minutes, fearing every step that I would feel a small, bloody mass slide down my right trouser leg. I had to conform to society's expectations of good behavior - "don't touch your genitals in public" as my Nan always used to say - but this was completely irrational, why should I have to suffer just to do what someone else has arbitrarily decided is the "Right Thing"? Why would it be so bad to ease the pain? Who would it offend? I began to think about my plight. What if I saw another man coming towards me, releasing his own trapped testicle? How would I feel? I'd be furious. My venom towards him would know no bounds. I would howl in protest, demand that society exact appropriate retribution on him. In short, I would be a total hypocrite. And then it hit me. This might be exactly how religious zealots think. I wouldn't be pissed off because he was breaking the rules, I would be pissed off because he was breaking the rules and I wasn't, and there are only a few ways to rationalize that, if you think about it: either (a) I'm stupid or cowardly for following rules that are wrong; or (b) the rules are right, and he is an ignorant pervert deviant who should be punished by society. Following on from that, I have three choices: 1) Accept that we're different, life isn't fair and I've chosen to live in pain for some intangible sense of righteousness. 2) Accept I've been stupid, thank him, and switch sides. 3) Decide that he is a Bad Man and be angry. We'd all like to pretend we'd go with 1 or 2, but that's just not true. In reality, loads of us would go with 3, but there's a hidden trap - this behavior is self-reinforcing. The longer I continue to get angry, the more I'm investing in these rules, and the harder it will be to ever accept that I was wrong. Worse, if I'm going to make sacrifices by following these rules, then I want to see a pay-off - I want to see that I'm winning out in life over people who don't follow them. I want these people to be punished so that I know that my suffering will be for a reason. Fast forward 30 years, and I'll be putting up posters, running RummageWatch.com, and holding angry meetings in City Hall. I may even be reading the Daily Mail. It's a slippery slope of irrationality. And so I think that's why some of these fundamentalists are so angry. That's why they're so upset with anyone else breaking their irrational rules on homosexuality and internet porn, even though logically it has precisely zero effect on them. Every atheist out there is flying in the face of their system, and it kills them that they make sacrifices to follow their rules, while there are no apparent consequences in the lives of those who break them. Or maybe I'm just projecting. actually, it's not my story, i got it off of the "bay of fundy" blog, but i thought it would be nice to share. http://www.bay-of-fundie.com/archives/463/underwear-and-fundies

Should feminists "Take Back the Lies" about rape? This writer thinks so: http://www.newuniversity.org/main/article?slug=sexual_assault_month%3A_take186 How about you? Interesting quote: "Haven't you heard? April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. This month, UC Irvine's Campus Assault Resources and Education Program (CARE) is sponsoring events such as The Clothesline Project, Denim Day USA and has invited groups like "Take Back the Night" and "One in Four" to raise awareness through a candlelight vigil. CARE hopes to combat sexual assault on our campus and others. Many UCI students have undoubtedly received the mass e-mail inviting concerned citizens to participate. As part of its call to arms, CARE and its associates have informed us of some alarming statistics. In particular, we have been told that during a four-year span, there will be roughly 3,000 female students at UCI who become victims of sexual assault. In the e-mail, UCI students were invited to view the Red Flag Project, where "almost 3,000 flags will be staked [by the UCI flag poles] … to demonstrate the number of women at [UCI] that are, according to national statistics, likely to experience an attempted or completed sexual assault before graduation." Such estimates are based on the frequently quoted statistic that "one in four women in college will be victims of rape or attempted rape," so it has escaped scrutiny from the college administrators who endorse organizations like "Take Back the Night" and the appropriately named "One in Four." Their math is simple. UCI has roughly 22,000 undergraduate students. of which roughly 52 percent are female. In a student body of about 12,000 females, one in four will be victimized during their stay at UCI. Therefore, roughly 3,000 female students will be victimized during a four-year span. CARE did not share the details of its arithmetic; they merely claim that their projection of 3,000 victims in the next four years is based on national averages. However, a close examination of the national statistics on sexual assault and UCI's own statistics and police reports reveal a totally different picture. By any reasonable measure, the claim of rampant sexual assault at UCI is a gross exaggeration at best. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, there were about 0.5 reported incidents of sexual assault per 1,000 people nationwide in 2005, excluding prison rape (which predominantly affects males) and molestation of victims under the age of 12. Since the vast majority of reported rapes involve female victims, that rate is comparable to one report of sexual assault per 1,000 females in 2005. Since crime rates fluctuate from year to year and it has been estimated that sexual assaults may have risen by as much as 25 percent since 2005, one can generously assume that there were as many as 1.25 reports of sexual assault per 1,000 females in 2008. If the rate is more or less steady, that translates into as many as five reports of sexual assault per 1,000 females every four years. If one were to use the national average to approximate the average number of sexual assault victims over a four-year span at UCI, then one would conclude that there would be less than 60 reported victims at UCI. That number is 50 times less than 3,000, which is the number claimed by CARE. In all likelihood, CARE and other sexual assault awareness groups would counter by claiming that the majority of sexual assaults that occur go unreported. Indeed, the Department of Justice has estimated that as many as 61 percent of sexual assaults never reach the police, but even adjusting the numbers for underreporting leaves the estimated number of sexual assaults at UCI at around 154, which is 2,846 short of 3,000. The estimate would still fall short by 1,800 even if one were to assume that as much as 95 percent of sexual assaults are unreported (as some activists have taken the liberty of doing). Furthermore, the phenomenon of underreporting may exist, but false claims of sexual assault exist as well. So far in this discussion, all reports of sexual assault were assumed to be entirely genuine for the sake of argument. However, someone familiar with the Duke University lacrosse team scandal or the Kobe Bryant scandal might object to such a broad assumption."

Please read this story? [teen/angst/romance/action]? Hi guys. This is the first chapter in a book I've written. It is 176 pages long and completed. Tell me what you think of the first chapter. *** Chapter 1 The TV ebbed it's translucent light, making the darkness retreat. I wasn't paying attention, far to engrossed with the mobile phone I held in front of me. Mum was sitting to my left, curled up on the sofa with a blanket thrown over her. She was watching some sappy romance that I wasn't interested in. I was opening an unread text when mum suddenly spoke. “Chase's mother called.” Mum said it casually, but I could hear the strain in her voice. I glared at her angrily and swept a brown curl out of my face. “Not funny, mum.” I growled and tossed the phone onto a cushion beside me. Crossing my arms, I slumped further into the armchair. “I'm serious. You were at school when she rang. I forgot to tell you.” My head snapped up. “What? Did she leave a number?” I sat on the edge of the seat, my hands curled into fists. I knew I sounded hysterical, but I didn't care. Mum shook her head. “She called on a private phone.” I shrank back. “Oh.” Chase, the runaway boyfriend who hadn't even bothered to call. His mother had rang my mum, and she knew something I didn't. “That boy really isn't good for you, Cassie.” Mum said tensely. Before I could reply, she had snatched the remote from me and had turned the sound up. Like that was going to stop me. “And so you've told me.” I replied, rolling my eyes. I glanced at mum and noticed her jaw seemed tight. Her eyes darted over the screen and I couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat that had formed on her wrinkled forehead. “No, Cassie. It's not like that anymore.” Mum said. “Oh, it's not is it?” I snapped. On the TV, the weatherman with the unusually white teeth declared another rain spattered day. Great, I thought, More time stuck inside. Mum opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. “No, it's not,” She said slowly. “Chase was found unconscious on the wharf, naked.” “Your kidding...” Mum had turned the TV off and she was now facing me. “Traces of cocaine and alcohol were found in his system. They aren't sure yet if others were involved, but they're still focusing on waking him up,” She looked at me anxiously. Probably fearing a tantrum coming on. “I would've told you earlier, but I didn't know if you could handle it.” Anger, embarrassment, betrayal. A dangerous concoction of emotions brimmed and I felt the urge to slap my mother. How dare she lie to me? Chase was seventeen, he couldn't legally buy drinks. He didn't have stupid friends either. It was not in his nature to get caught up in this stuff. Silently, I threw the blanket off me and blundered to my feet. I moved to the door, but paused. “I'm going out.” I bawled, turning on my heel and exiting the room with unintentional drama. My thoughts were one swirling mass of anger. I wasn't angry at my mother, not at all. It wasn't her fault this had happened. I needed to calm down. Kill the messenger, I thought to myself. Flinging open the cupboard doors, I pulled on a pair of stylish blue denim jeans and slipped a dark green hooded sweatshirt over my head. I snatched a brush from my bedside table and yanked it through my knotted hair. Mum was standing in the doorway, watching me with pleading eyes. “Cassandra, you can't go outside in weather like this. You'll freeze to death.” I flipped open my phone and punched in a few keys. The tone rang for several seconds before a squeaky voice erupted. “Hello?” “Hi Jess. It's me, Cass,” I said hurriedly. “Listen, could you please pick me up?” “What's wr-” She started, her voice reaching a whole new level of high. “I'll explain it all later. Be at my house in five minutes.” I pleaded. “Okay, be there soon.” As I was about to thank her, the line went dead and I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. Mum stood aside as I pushed through the doorway. She took ten dollars from her wallet and pushed it into my hand. “Don't stay out late.” “I wont,” I said, pulling my hood over my face and moving out the front door. “It depends on the hospital visiting hours.”

yupsters............? Someone Like You Dessen, Sarah Paperback Sold By: Sort Floor Books Ships From: Fall River, MA, UNITED STATES Condition: New ISBN-13: 9780142401774 Seller Price: $3.29 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $3.29 Inexcusable Chris Lynch Paperback Sold By: SmokyMtnBooks Ships From: Elizabethton, TN, UNITED STATES Condition: New ISBN-13: 9781416939726 Seller Price: $3.85 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $3.85 The Twisted Window (Laurel-Leaf Suspense Fiction) Lois Duncan Mass Market Paperback Sold By: Atlanta Book Company Ships From: Atlanta, GA, UNITED STATES Condition: Acceptable ISBN-13: 9780440201847 Seller Price: $1.99 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $1.99 The Tenth Circle: A Novel Picoult, Jodi Paperback Sold By: FatCityBooks Ships From: Stockton, CA, UNITED STATES Condition: Good ISBN-13: 9780743496711 Seller Price: $1.99 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $1.99 Faded Denim: Color Me Trapped (TrueColors Series #9) Melody Carlson Paperback Sold By: SavvyMedia Ships From: Chattanooga, TN, UNITED STATES Condition: New ISBN-13: 9781576835371 Seller Price: $1.99 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $1.99 Girl, Interrupted Kaysen, Susanna Paperback Sold By: Alibris Ships From: Sparks, NV, UNITED STATES Condition: Very Good ISBN-13: 9780679746041 Seller Price: $1.99 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $1.99 That Summer Sarah Dessen Paperback Sold By: Barnes & Noble Once-Read Books Ships From: Paramus, NJ, UNITED STATES Condition: Very Good ISBN-13: 9780142401729 Seller Price: $3.00 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $3.00 The Truth About Forever Dessen, Sarah Paperback Sold By: Up North Books Ships From: Sault Ste. Marie, MI, UNITED STATES Condition: Acceptable ISBN-13: 9780142406250 Seller Price: $2.32 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $2.32 A Child Called "It": One Child's Courage to Survive Dave Pelzer Paperback Sold By: Atlanta Book Company Ships From: Atlanta, GA, UNITED STATES Condition: Acceptable ISBN-13: 9781558743663 Seller Price: $1.99 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $1.99 Deadly Little Secrets (Touch Series #1) Laurie Faria Stolarz Hardcover Sold By: A1books Ships From: Netcong, NJ, UNITED STATES Condition: New ISBN-13: 9781423111443 Seller Price: $9.13 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $9.13 Keeping the Moon Sarah Dessen Paperback Sold By: Better World Books Ships From: Mishawaka, IN, UNITED STATES Condition: Acceptable ISBN-13: 9780142401767 Seller Price: $2.98 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $2.98 This Lullaby Sarah Dessen Paperback Sold By: Archives Books, Inc. Ships From: Edmond, OK, UNITED STATES Condition: Good ISBN-13: 9780142501559 Seller Price: $2.35 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $2.35 Lost It Kristen Tracy Paperback Sold By: SuperBookDeals- Ships From: South Bend, IN, UNITED STATES Condition: New ISBN-13: 9781416934752 Seller Price: $4.37 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $4.37 Forever... Judy Blume Paperback Sold By: oncesoldtales Ships From: Auburn, WA, UNITED STATES Condition: Good ISBN-13: 9781416934004 Seller Price: $3.24 1 Usually ships in 1-2 business days Details $3.24

How's my story coming along? do you like it? KEEPING THE GIRL Jacob tugged impatiently on Nikolai's arm, trying to turn him to face the front of the room. "Look," he hissed. "There she is! I told you, didn't I?" Nikolai stared, frozen. He couldn't even manage a response, which Jacob seemed to understand. He had become kind of rigid himself. Walking into the room was the most striking, eye-catching girl Nikolai had ever seen. She was tall, about five foot nine, and she looked like an angel as she entered the room. Snow blew in behind her, swirling around her white dress, and Nikolai felt his heart jump as a whirl of wind caught her silver-blonde hair and threw it around her face, like a halo of light. She closed the door, smoothing down the thick (yet somehow feathery-light) mass of hair and looked around. She caught Jacob's eye and smiled, causing Nikolai to notice both her deep, amber eyes and her petal pink lips. She began winding her way towards them, her skirt flowing around her calves, and Nikolai felt his heart begin to thump. She reached them, smiling. "Hello, Jake." Wind chimes began playing in Nikolai's ears, and he looked around stupidly, until he realized that the beautiful noise was her voice. "Hi, Arianna." Jacob cleared his throat. He seemed to be nervous, but it was nothing to what Nikolai felt. His heart was ringing in his ears, his palms were sweating, and he could feel his blood coursing through his veins. He was truly in awe of such a beauty. "Arianna, this is-" "Nikolai," Nick quickly interrupted. "I'm Nikolai." He held out a hand, and when she shook it, he thought he would pass out. Her skin was cool and smooth and she felt so delicate that he wanted to put her in a protective case. "What a beautiful name," she responded, smiling at him. "Your name is quite beautiful in itself," he answered, surprised that he could even talk when she was merely three feet away. "What does it mean?" "It's Italian. It means 'holy'." She blushed slightly, and a rosy glow so lovely spread across her cheeks that Nikolai almost sighed weakly in awe. "Beautiful," he breathed, not daring to tear his eyes away from her face in case he missed even one moment of her beauty. "What does your name mean, Nikolai?" Jacob huffed quietly at their side, seeming put out at their exclusion of him. He muttered something about a drink and shuffled off, his big, muscular back flowing under his shirt and blonde hair shining in the light. "It means 'victory of the people,'" he replied, blushing. "It's Greek." "What a strong name," she said, still smiling. Nikolai gestured to a couch. "Would you like to sit?" Arianna stared at him. He blushed, feeling that he had made some mistake. But what he didn't notice was her eyes sweeping his smooth, dark skin, his bright, warm brown eyes, and his midnight, wavy curls. He didn't see her glance down at his muscular torso, clearly visible through his tight red T-shirt. He didn't watch her take in his long, muscular legs encased in stonewashed denim, or notice her evaluate his uncertain, breathing-taking smile. She blushed, her mind racing and her heart pounding. "Yes, let's," she said, after what seemed like hours. Nikolai held out a hand to help her, and when their fingers touched, a current of electricity sparked Arianna's hand. She looked up at him, thinking of nothing but his heart-stopping beauty, and he sat next to her, so close next to her, not yet releasing her hand. When he did let go, Arianna felt the spark go out, like a light switch had been flipped off. They talked for hours, about anything and everything. Nikolai told her of his family and his friends, while Arianna spoke of her best friend and her mother, the only people she really had as a family. They went on and on, uninterrupted by anyone- they seemed so deeply into each other that it was obvious they wished to be left alone. At a quarter to midnight, Nikolai cleared his throat, smiling at her ruefully. "Well, it's getting pretty late," he began. Arianna checked her watch. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "We've been talking for over four hours!" She blushed as Nikolai smiled at her. She touched her face. "What?" she asked. "What are you smiling at?" Nikolai brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Nothing. Just you." Arianna felt her heart beating in a frenzy when he touched her. "What did I do?" she asked, her eyes glued to his face. "You were just being yourself," he said honestly. "I find it funny that you think you can say that after only four hours of knowing me, Mr. Kaligaris," she teased. Nikolai laughed. "I know. But for some reason, I think I can, Ms. DeFiore, " he said honestly. Arianna felt like her heart would burst out of her chest, and blushed even deeper when she realized that he must notice the heat rising to her face. "Arianna, can I walk you home?" he asked seriously. Outwardly, she smiled, but inside, she was jumping up and down in excitement. "I would like nothing better, Nik

rough Draft #5 (Its almost to the good parttt in the story)? I waited in the cold I should have brought a jacket; I could be such an idiot sometimes. Snow began to fall softly as the sky clouded over. Great, just great, I ducked under the overhang of the theater. I thought about buying a ticket so I could go inside but I didn’t have any money. Just then his recognizable old, beat up 57’ mustang pulled up. I loved that car, it was perfect, and although it was beat up it just made the car more perfect. I was day dreaming off into space thinking about his car when his voice shattered my thoughts. “Get in the car.” He ordered. “Listen I have my board I’ll just skate back, no biggie.” “Dammit Haily get in the car!” He grabbed my arm so tight my arm started to go numb. I was scared to get in. I had never seen Kyle this mad before it was like he wanted to kill me himself before the cold did. I could run off, he could chase me and probably catch me he was fast. I could throw him off swerve through some trees or try and shake him in a crowd but he would just plow through them to get to me. I had my hand frozen on the car door. I could skate off, or I could refuse. Would he hit me? There was a possibility but I didn’t know, all my thoughts were jumbled. I was cold and shivering, I was scared and I couldn’t think right. I felt faint and almost sick, I was about to collapse over. The car was keeping me steady but not for long, suddenly it all went black everything. Chapter 7 Cars I woke up in the car it felt as if we were going a hundred miles per hour. I looked out the window at the trees speeding by, and the slow that was still falling. I was warm now, I looked down to find myself in Kyle’s big coat, it was really warm. There was no music and as I looked over at Kyle. He just stared at the road so I turned back to the window. “You do that again and I swear…” he said bringing his fist down on the dashboard. “I'm sorry.” I was scared and shrunk into the door. “Your sorry, geez Haily, do you even think anymore?!” “Y-yea.” “No. No you don’t,” I opened my mouth to speak, “you try and get run over by a car, jump off a cliff, jump out a window, go snowboarding in the snow in your pjs, faint in the middle of the street… what else are you going to try? Jump in shark infested waters in California?!” “None of that was life threatening.” “But you could have gotten hurt Haily!” “But I didn’t” “How long have you known about moving?” Now was my chance. I wanted to tell Kyle but I needed to get away. He was speeding so I was ready to get hurt badly, but I had his jacket. I carefully and slowly pulled up the lock on the door. I waited a second for him to notice. “Well?” “I flung open the door and jumped out. I rolled a little bit. I could feel all the bruises forming. How had I not broken a bone yet? I heard the car come to a screeching stop. I got to my feet as fast as I could. Wincing in pain I ran into the thick mass of evergreens beside the road. “Jesus Christ Haily! Get back here!” He yelled as I heard him charge after me. I swerved through the trees, jumping over rocks and branches in my way, I made left and right turns rapidly. I heard him snapping through the forest. “Why are you running away?!” I didn’t answer, not like I had the courage to anyways and just kept running. I didn’t know how long I could go like this, what if he caught up. What if an animal got me? I was thinking too much again and tripped and fell. “Haily! What’s going on?” “I-I don’t k-know. I-I just… UGH! I'm scared.” “Of what? California?!” “Yes, and you, and not being with you, and y-yes California.” “Don’t worry about California, as for me,” he grinned, “Don’t worry about that either.” Chapter 8 New School I was so nervous about everything. My hair, my outfit, my makeup, my shoes! I was wearing a denim mini, with a white tank, amazingly cute green empire waist, almost Mayan style shirt. And of course matching green converse. I straightened my hair, and parted it to the side; I had let it grow out a little bit more and gotten softer layers. I had a smudged thin line of eyeliner, and pink lip gloss. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was tan, not white, and I looked good. My hair had also naturally lightened and highlights came out. I believed I was ready, hopefully. I walked up the front steps about an hour later and it looked like I was late. Great typical new kid move. I walked to my classroom took a deep breath and stepped in. Every eye in the room stared at me; there were some definite cute new guys. I and Kyle had left off on uneven terms. We were in a fight about something that I can’t even remember now and I wasn’t sure if we were official but we lived states away now. I could have some fun, and then I spotted the popular girls. Probably their ex’s or their “property”. Then I spotted the kids I used to hang with, before I moved, the skaters, the nerdy kids, the rather scary kids, and the jocks, people who I would never fit in with. “Yes, you dont have to read it! you can ignore it, and im not begging, so once again you can ignore it

Constructive Criticism on my writing? Obviously you don't know the storyline, but I'd really appreciate it if you could just make a few comments on my writing. This is just part of my draft, so if you've got any suggestions for better names that would be great. I'm fifteen, by the way. Jones smelled smoke. His head was full of fog, bells and pain. Something soft, like hair, was brushing against his face. He was warm. Aching. Weak. “About time,” someone said. It was a girl’s voice, rich and low. She sounded far away, muffled by the incessant ringing trapped in his skull. Jones could feel hands on his chest, creeping between the buttons of his shirt and coming to rest over his heart. The fingers were cold, contrasting sharply with the heat that the midday sun had inspired in his flesh as he lay unconscious. He tried to raise his arm, but the icy fingers closed around his wrist. “Don’t try and move,” the girl said in a commanding tone. Then the hands were on his face, and the chill brought him back to reality quicker. The buzzing in his head dissipated, and the frailty in his limbs seemed to fade away. He opened his eyes, and sat up. His head spun for a moment. The girl looked annoyed. “I told you to stay still.” Jones looked straight at her. Her frowning eyes were round, as black as beetles. As he looked, the eyes softened. “You got bust up pretty bad,” she remarked. “What happened?” “MUC’s,” he croaked simply. Then, struck by realization, “Jay!?” “You’re little brother’s over there. He’s ok. A bit shell-shocked.” Jones stood up, and his legs promptly gave way. “Sit down!” the girl laughed. She shook back her masses of obsidian hair. Tangled and straight, it hung to below her waist. “No, no...” Jones tried again, this time managing to regain his balance. The girl held out a tanned, freckled arm, and he took it gratefully. Jay was lying on his back in the shade of a heavily graffitied phone booth, one arm covering his eyes. He was conscious, and sat up gingerly as Jones and the stranger approached. “Hey kid. How’re you feeling?” Jones asked. “Sore, but nothing broken,” Jay seemed to have warmed towards Jones considerably since the morning. “Thanks, by the way. Those MUC’s would have had me for lunch if you hadn’t come along.” “It was the least I could do.” There was a long silence, during which the girl looked from one boy to the other, smiling broadly. Jones turned to her, noticing with amusement that she wore no shoes, faded denim shorts, and a white peasant shirt that showed most of her flat, tanned midriff. An Indian headband criss-crossed her forehead. She smelled of soap and earth. “What’s your name?” he asked her. “Lacey,” she replied, her mellifluous voice brimming with humour. Jones wondered what she found so amusing, but she quickly satisfied his curiosity. “You guys really don’t look like brothers.” “We’re not,” Jones and Jay chorused, adamant. Lacey giggled, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Ok, ok. So how are you both feeling?” Jones passed a hand over his eyes. He felt groggy and lightheaded, a deep graze on his face stinging. “I’m fine.” “Sure you are. And you?” she turned and smiled at Jay. “My arm hurts,” the kid started to whine, then caught Jones’ eye and quickly changed his tone. “But I’m fine.”

Is this opinion of girls acceptable from a males perspective? Is it wrong that if i had a choice between a scruffy, rag wearing,broken nailed toned, dirt covered prehistoric girl or a manicured, conditonered, hair straightened, lip glossed denim wearing typical modern mass produced of the production line girl, I would choose the prehistoric girl ANY day of the week

How an Underwear Malfunction Helped me Understand Christian Fundamentalists? i realized that i had posted this before, but i thought i would do it again for the people that have logged in within the last 2 hours or so. I don't know how it happened. Maybe I had been careless after my last trip to the loo; maybe it was the lack of support in modern underwear; or maybe I had been a little too enthusiastic bounding off the bus at the Drummer Street bus station. Whatever it was, I rapidly realized that something was not in its proper place. One of my secondary sexual organs had slipped from its safety harness and was now uncomfortably trapped in the middle of a sawing motion between denim and cotton, the skin rubbing raw in its lethal fabric embrace. This was unbelievably painful, something like I'd imagine giving birth to be, except that unlike a woman in labor I couldn't scream, or ask for an epidural. I desperately wanted to slip a hand down there, rummage around and free my tortured testicle, but I was in the middle of a crowded street, and had nearly a mile to walk until I would be in the privacy required to achieve release without ending up on Cambridgeshire's Register of Sex Offenders. And so I was forced to walk on, in agony, looking like John Wayne with a broken ankle. My first thought was one of anger at society. Why shouldn't I be able to just reach down, do what I need to do, and walk on? No, instead, I had to suffer for another fifteen minutes, fearing every step that I would feel a small, bloody mass slide down my right trouser leg. I had to conform to society's expectations of good behavior - "don't touch your genitals in public" as my Nan always used to say - but this was completely irrational, why should I have to suffer just to do what someone else has arbitrarily decided is the "Right Thing"? Why would it be so bad to ease the pain? Who would it offend? I began to think about my plight. What if I saw another man coming towards me, releasing his own trapped testicle? How would I feel? I'd be furious. My venom towards him would know no bounds. I would howl in protest, demand that society exact appropriate retribution on him. In short, I would be a total hypocrite. And then it hit me. This might be exactly how religious zealots think. I wouldn't be pissed off because he was breaking the rules, I would be pissed off because he was breaking the rules and I wasn't, and there are only a few ways to rationalize that, if you think about it: either (a) I'm stupid or cowardly for following rules that are wrong; or (b) the rules are right, and he is an ignorant pervert deviant who should be punished by society. Following on from that, I have three choices: 1) Accept that we're different, life isn't fair and I've chosen to live in pain for some intangible sense of righteousness. 2) Accept I've been stupid, thank him, and switch sides. 3) Decide that he is a Bad Man and be angry. We'd all like to pretend we'd go with 1 or 2, but that's just not true. In reality, loads of us would go with 3, but there's a hidden trap - this behavior is self-reinforcing. The longer I continue to get angry, the more I'm investing in these rules, and the harder it will be to ever accept that I was wrong. Worse, if I'm going to make sacrifices by following these rules, then I want to see a pay-off - I want to see that I'm winning out in life over people who don't follow them. I want these people to be punished so that I know that my suffering will be for a reason. Fast forward 30 years, and I'll be putting up posters, running RummageWatch.com, and holding angry meetings in City Hall. I may even be reading the Daily Mail. It's a slippery slope of irrationality. And so I think that's why some of these fundamentalists are so angry. That's why they're so upset with anyone else breaking their irrational rules on homosexuality and internet porn, even though logically it has precisely zero effect on them. Every atheist out there is flying in the face of their system, and it kills them that they make sacrifices to follow their rules, while there are no apparent consequences in the lives of those who break them. Or maybe I'm just projecting. ben, i not sure whether to laugh or be offended. is that a good thing? well, i'm actually american, this isn't my writing. i got it off of a blog and i thought it would be criminal to keep it to myself and not share it with the rest.