Stop Interrupting The Reader

The Ultimate Reader Problem. My brother does this and annoys me to no end. I’ll tell him, “I’m reading now” and he’ll consistently respond with “Okay” and then he’ll just keep talking and talking and talking.

Morgana´s Book Box

Being interrupted while reading – There´s nothing more aggravating.

I actually hate when someone interrupts me in my moment of peace, solitude, escape.

Not only do I read because I like to read, I also read because reading takes me away from the one thing I want to get away from: Stress or life in general.

The feeling of diving into a new world and being able to envision a life I wish existed is something magical. When I´m into a story I´m truly invested. When someone comes and does the unthinkable…. I, then, also want to do the unthinkable.

But I don´t. All I do is throw nasty glares or annoyed faces or raise an eyebrow. Nothing helps, though. Some people can´t take a hint. Or, they don´t want to.

throughout the years I´ve come up with different strategies on how to avoid being ripped away from my reading session…

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FINALS!!! (And We’re Reblogging!)

Heyo, peeps!

Due to the impending doom that is finals, our blogging might be a bit more erratic.

So while Spinette and I are gone and doing much less interesting activities, we’re going to turn to reblogging for postings.

During midterms, we reblogged our own older posts, but this time we’re going to reblog posts from other peoples in the blogosphere!

Doesn’t that sound exciting?

So do you want your blog post reblogged on TheWebWeavers? It’s simple, just leave a link in the comments, and bam, new readers! But there’s one condition. (Sorry. I know everyone hates that word.) You have to leave a link to your favorite post from someone else’s blog as well.

Trying to Dance

So today, I was trying (let me emphasize TRYING) to dance.

It didn’t work.

I tried to dance along to Red Velvet’s song “Look” (which is a Kpop song). I ended up spending 30 minutes on the first 10 SECONDS. I didn’t even get to the lyrics and I still forgot some moves. That was supposed to be an EASY dance. What am I going to do with harder, or even a normal, level dance?

Here is the dance: Look

Despite that, I have made some progress in Kpop dances in the past some of which were much harder. I mastered 15 seconds of Taemin’s Drip Drop, but I quit because of all the physically demanding and mind bending footwork. It took about three hours and now I don’t remember a single move. Talk about a waste of time!

So, why are you trying to do a Kpop dance now, Spinette? You may ask.

Well, I’m really bored and I want to be able to defeat anyone who challenges me to a dance battle one day. I can’t go on only knowing how to do the Backpack kid dance and the broken sprinkler! My name is Spinette, so shouldn’t I be good at spinning and dancing?

Maybe my parents named me that way for irony and I’m actually terrible at all types of dance.

*cries*

Solving all Your Stupid Problems

I’m sure all of these problems have graced you, dear reader. You wouldn’t believe it, but they’re quite common, really. You’re just sitting there thinking that all your problems are unique because you are a unique and special human bean with your own unique and special set of problems. But nope. Everyone else deals with them, too. You are completely generic. But they won’t anymore, because I’m about to solve all your stupid problems!

Lettuce, begin the drumroll!


You get gum stuck in your hair, but there are no worries. As good ole grandma used to say, “Peanut butter will get gum out of your hair, your pet’s hair, your cactus’s wig. And then you won’t have to become prematurely bald!”

But Grandma never considered what happens after you get the gum out of your hair. What happens when the peanut butter gets stuck?!

The answer is simple.

Become prematurely bald.

Go outside and grab a squirrel. Make sure it doesn’t have rabies! (Rabies are bad, in case you didn’t know.) If squirrels aren’t available, other small, peanut-butter-loving animals are good substitutes.

Set the squirrel in your hair and watch it work its magic.

You are a lover of pickles. (These kinds of people are strange. Dear readers, I know that you are not pickle-lovers, because I like you, so a word of advice from author to reader: Don’t associate with pickle-lovers.) You are such an enthusiast of pickles, that you decide to use your life savings to buy a ticket to Pickle World, the pickle-themed amusement park in L.A. (L.A. is also strange. Do not associate with people from L.A. I mean, those L.A.-ians decided to build a pickle-themed amusement park. Couldn’t they have at least gone with cucumbers?)

At Pickle World, they have giant jars full of giant mutant pickles. Trust me, pickle-lovers love giant pickles and will willingly swim with them, despite the fact that the vinegar will make their skin all pruney and will make them smell awful for weeks.

But sometimes, accidents happen.

Sometimes, people get stuck inside pickles. (Don’t ask me what they were doing. I told you, pickle-lovers are insane.)

But there is an easy solution to this, excuse me for the pun, pickle, as well. But I’m sure you readers won’t need it, since you are not of the pickle-loving breed.

Simply ask a trusted acquaintance to pull you and the pickle out of the jar. You will see that in minutes, no seconds, the pickle will be devoured by ravenous pickle-lovers and you will remain magically unscathed. Pickle-lovers are insane, but they’re not cannibals.


I hoped that I have solved some of your (many) problems. And don’t worry if you have problems that haven’t been addressed in this short post. There will be more parts.

Caring for Your Unicorn Master

TheWebWeavers is actually our second blog. Both Spinette and I had our own individual “first blogs” that didn’t really work. They were both unicorn-based. (This was not planned. We just both love unicorns). My blog, Unicornia, was a guide for the measly human attempting to move to Unicornia. Spinette’s blog, Unicorn Sightings, was about all things unicorn. Unicornia had three followers (two of which were Spinette and me) and Unicorn Sightings had seven (two of which were Spinette and me).

Both of these blogs still exist on the internet, but they haven’t been active for ages. I think the reason that they didn’t work was that the topics were too restrictive and it wasn’t interesting to write on over and over again. TheWebWeavers is a lot more fun because we can write about whatever we want.

However, despite being inactive, the posts on the blogs are still somewhat funny (especially Spinette’s) so they will be reshared on TheWebWeavers for everyone to read and judge. You can also determine how much we’ve improved. 😉

Here’s the second segment of the Unicornia Series, Caring for Your Unicorn Master. It was originally published on November 19, 2016.

 

Growing your unicorn is not the end of the long and tedious process of entering Unicornia. You must also care for your unicorn so they will accept you as their life-long faithful servant and follower.

When you have warmed the Magical Kernel with the bottled purple dragon breath, it will pop into a baby unicorn, similar to the way Ordinary Kernels pop into the delicious treat known as “popcorn”.

Since unicorns are the perfect creatures, they expect their servants to be perfect too. Unicorns live on a diet of chocolate, candy, and fruit. You must feed your Unicorn Master four meals a day. They normally eat about five pounds of food a meal. You must use chocolate, candy, and fruit to make creative meals every day. Unicorns are picky eaters and if you want them to accept you, you must give them good food to eat (organic, nutritious, sustainably-sourced, low calorie, etc.). Something you never want is a hungry unicorn. They will eat anything and everything. Including you.

Unicorns don’t sleep very well on Earth, so be prepared to wake up in the middle of the night (Unicorns’ sleeping patterns are similar to that of a fidgety newborn baby). Give your Unicorn Master a spacious bedroom with a lakeside view. Always tell them a bedtime story. They love stories in which unicorns are the heroes.

Even though Unicorns don’t wear clothes, they like to have a full closet. Buy your Unicorn Master lots of colorful clothing they can hang up and organize.

Every unicorn is different and they have different preferences. Get to know your Unicorn Master and eat, sleep, and breathe their likes and dislikes so you know how to care for your Unicorn Master.

Caring for your Unicorn Master is a difficult task. They expect you to be perfect at all times. There is never time for rest. If your unicorn likes and accepts you, once they get older, they will take you with them to Unicornia. In Unicornia, they will build a beautiful house for themselves and permit you to live in the stables.

A Stream of Thoughts: Keys

Welcome to another edition of A Stream of Thoughts! In A Stream of Thoughts, a random word generator picks a word for me and I ramble about it. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?

But first, life update/warning. We’re at that time of year again! FINALS! *Jazz hands*

I hate finals more than anything else in the world. They are the bane of human existence. *Spews hatred* But because of them, we might probably will be less active on ze blog.

Today’s magic word is…

KEY

There are many types of keys. You have the physical keys that can open an assortment of things, including doors, cars, lockers, safes, treasure chests, bank vaults…

I’m terrified that I’m going to lose my keys and be stuck outside for hours and hours in the rain. But isn’t everyone?

There are also the keys on maps. Also known as “legends”. In my opinion, these are the most boring of all the keys. Why would you look at a key on a map when you could instead look at the pretty map? (Ignore the fact that keys are often necessary to understand a map.) Speaking of which, does anyone know why a key is also called a legend? I get key (because it’s the key to understanding the map), but why legend? I could probably Google it. But eh.

And then there’s the most interesting type of key, the figurative key. The key to their heart (not a literal key unless your crush is a robot), the key to knowledge, etc. There are so many figurative keys. What if they were literal keys, though? What if the key to love was finding a literal key, or the key to becoming the smartest person in the universe was finding a real key? And what if you could take these keys to Walmart and make copies?

I’m hungry.

Going back to my fear of losing my keys and being locked out of the house. Why don’t all houses just have retina scanners on them? I’m not going to lose my eyeball at school. Although I might lose my fingerprint, which is why they don’t use fingerprint scanners.


Bye.

The Cliche Book Tag

Thanks so much to Sophia Ismaa Writes for tagging me! She’s just started a new tag called “5 Things I Like About Myself” where you list five things that you like about yourself. I think it’s just so nice and so positive. I’m going to do this tag soon and I want to spread the love so if you want to be tagged, please comment with a link to your blog on this post.


Actions Speak Louder Than Words.

A Book That Wasn’t Or Couldn’t Be Better Than The Movie.

I rarely ever watch the movie after reading the book. The only one I can think of is Giver, but I equally despised the book and movie.

So… pass?


The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side.

A Rags To Riches Or Riches To Rags Story.

the false prince

The False Prince

I can’t really talk about why this fits into the category without giving away spoilers, but this is one of my favorite books. I love the characters. Everyone, go read it.


The Apple Does Not Fall Far From The Tree.

A Parent-Child Relationship That You Love

to kill a mockingbird

To Kill a Mockingbird

Scout and Atticus’s relationship is adorable. I read mostly fantasy, and a lot of those have absent parents, so this was a harder category to choose for.

I could’ve gone with Keeper of the Lost Cities, too, but I felt that the category would be more appreciated if I picked a book you guys have (probably) heard about.


You Can’t Judge A Book By Its Cover

A Great Book That Needs A Better Cover

the pact

The Pact

I’m currently reading this book, and it’s been lovely so far. But seriously, that cover sucks. Just ugh. Look at the color scheme! They do have a different version with a much better cover, so I’m glad they figured out that this one kinda sucks.


You Can’t Please Everyone

A Book You Hate That Everyone Loves

ready player one

Ready Player One

I could’ve gone with Giver, but I also despise Ready Player One. *Shrugs*

Reasons I despise Ready Player One

  • The characters weren’t developed
  • The characters weren’t interesting
  • The main character was insufferable
  • The plot was bland
  • I didn’t get most of the references and it was written like it expected me to
  • The plot
  • Ugh
  • I don’t even like the concept
  • It should’ve gone into more detail about the apocalypse. The beginning where it was described is probably my favorite part.
  • The ending was too neat
  • The characters
  • It wasn’t thrilling
  • I didn’t like the writing style. It was tell, not show. It didn’t go into much depth with the descriptions and it was hard to imagine things properly.

Moving on.


What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger.

What’s A Book That Made You A Better Person For Having Read It.

Let’s make a list!


Love is Blind.

A Book With A Disabled Main Character Or Actual Blind Love

turtles all the way down

Turtles All the Way Down

The main character, Aza, has severe OCD.

It’s a lovely book. I highly recommend it.


Ignorance Is Bliss.

A Book That Is Bad But You Just Don’t Want To Admit It.

king's cage

King’s Cage

This series is so close to me as it was my introduction to the wonderful world of YA. I love Red Queen and it was one of my favorite books, but the series quickly went downhill and it definitely has a lot of flaws. But I’m going to pretend it’s good.

Also, War Storm just came out yesterday! Squeeeee. I apologize for my squealing. Sadly, I won’t be able to read it until June, or maybe even July. *Sobs*


There Is No Time Like The Present.

What Is Your Favorite Contemporary Book?

a list of cages.jpg

A List of Cages

Go read it.


Better Safe Than Sorry.

A Book You Don’t Want To Read In Case It’s Bad.

go set a watchman

Go Set a Watchman

The Early Death of Our Advice Column (And How to Resurrect It)

Hello peeps! It is a sad occasion.

Unfortunately, our advice column, Ask TheWebWeavers, has died before it could grow up. There have been no questions to feed it and it has shriveled up.

Luckily, the corpse is still warm and it can be brought back with a little CPR and some questions.

Will you, dear reader, help save its life?

It only asks for questions. And the questions can be about absolutely anything. The world of curiosity and troubling problems is at your fingertips.

Do you have any questions that need answering? Send them to us through our contact page or in the comments and all your problems will be solved.

Ask TheWebWeavers #1 || The Spider Squisher

Ask The Webweavers #2: Stuck Up Peeps

Ask TheWebWeavers #3 || The Chewer

Happy Mother’s Day

 

Happy Mother’s Day everyone!

I hope you’re all spending your days with your mothers and you made her lovely presents and some popcorn. Or not.

This song, Mama by My Chemical Romance, is my favorite song. And The Black Parade is my latest obsession. I’ve listened to it about seven times. *Sheepish grin*

Click here if the video doesn’t play.

She’s Having a Baby?!

So last Monday, my cousin’s wife had a baby. I didn’t know she was pregnant.

Sure, big families can be fun with the endless stream of people who are obligated to like you. But they can also be a burden.

When you near forty cousins, there’s a problem. Many problems, in fact. Such as no one telling you that one of them is having a baby. And not being able to remember said baby’s name.

One day your mom will tell you that one of your closest cousin’s has a new wife (He got married?!) or is having another baby (He’s married?!).

And you can never remember a week later that they got married or had a baby.

 

Or sometimes you’ll be at a party and some random stranger will come up to you and the following conversation will ensue:

Stranger: Hey, Arachnid! I’m your aunt! I saw you when you were three. You used to run around without clothes on. Remember?

Arachnid: Oh, hey…yeah. I totally remember that. You’re my favorite relative! How could I possibly forget you? Uhh… Remind me how we’re related?

*Stranger that claims she is your relative holds out her arms for a hug.*

Arachnid (Thinking): Who in the blobfish is this random dude? I’m supposed to HUG her?!

*Arachnid awkwardly shakes the stranger’s hand*

 

I often have difficulties remembering all the members of the Weaver family (There are so many!). I ask my parents beforehand whenever we go to visit family. I still can never remember their names, though.

Most of my cousins are a lot older than me, and they’re all getting married (I’m going to go off on a little tangent about arranged marriages now. One of my cousins is getting married this summer. It was arranged. They talked on Facebook for NINE DAYS when he proposed to her. And she said yes. THEY HAVE NEVER MET IN PERSON. *Ultimate face-palm. Face-palm so hard I accidentally decapitate myself*) And my cousins are all getting married to people with even BIGGER families and then I have to learn all of their names.

A couple months ago, a large portion of my family went to my dad’s brother’s son’s son’s first birthday party. One of my cousin’s friends came to the party and he asked my cousin how he was related to the Birthday Boy.

Friend: How are you guys related?

Cousin: Uhh… He’s my mother’s sister’s husband’s brother’s son’s son.

Friend: …

 

I need to make a flowchart or something to keep track of everyone.


Do you have any questions that need answering? Send them to Ask TheWebWeavers, our advice column, using the Contact Page.

My Name in TBR Books Tag

Hey guys! Today’s post is going to be short because I have to write a four-page essay. *Commence miniature melt-down*

(I’ve actually already finished the essay and am in the proof-reading stage. I’m just in the post-essay writing freak-out phase.)

The lovely Cat on the Bookshelf tagged me for this one exactly one month ago. (I’m so bad at doing tags in a timely matter. Don’t hate me.)

For this tag, you’re supposed to spell out your name with books on your TBR. Unfortunately, half of my TBR is floating somewhere in the great depths of my mind so this might be a bit tricky.

So, let us begin!


A- An Ember in the Ashes

R- Red Queen (Re-Read)

A- All The Wrong Questions

C- Carve The Mark

H-

N- (The) Night Gardener (Re-Read)

I- Inkheart (Re-Read)

D- Divergent

W- Worlds Apart

E-

A- Ace of Shades

V-

E-

R-


Well, I failed that…

Can you guys think of any book recommendations for the missing letters? (Not that my TBR needs a growth spurt.)


Do you have any questions that need answering? Send them to Ask TheWebWeavers using the Contact Page. Please specify if you want your letter to be anonymous. If you want the world to know who you are (otherwise known as this small corner of the internet), we’ll add a link to your blog to help spread the love.

Ask TheWebWeavers #3 || The Chewer

Sophia Ismaa Writes asks…

My aunt chews so loudly. Like, SO loudly that it sounds like there’s a factory operating in her mouth and every single one of the workers there are French kissing each other. I have told her I don’t like it because it gives me flashbacks to someone in my childhood and it makes me uncomfortable. She refuses to change. What do I do?

There are several courses of action that you can take for this particular problem. You have already attempted the most simple and effective one, asking her to stop, but that did not work. Unfortunately, chewing loudly is something that one often doesn’t realize they’re doing. So asking someone to stop might quiet them down for a minute or two, but then they’re right back to chewing like a lawnmower.

It’s quite difficult to change someone else, so the easiest course of action is to change either yourself or your environment.

  1. Wear earplugs/noise-canceling headphones
    • This option is, of course, a bit rude. But sometimes drastic measures must be taken. However, the drawback to this plan is that it will be quite difficult to follow the conversation. So it is recommended that one becomes proficient in the art of lip-reading before attempting this method.
  2. Avoid eating with your aunt
    • This method is also somewhat rude. But effective. You could claim to be busy or even say you’re eating with other people.
  3. If you are cooking…
    1. Make only Jell-O. It’s hard to chew loudly with Jell-O
    2. Make something like spaghetti that requires a lot of slurping (and other disgusting chewing sounds) to eat. Set the table so you are sitting really close to your aunt, and talk with your mouth full during dinner. Later, while there is still food in your mouth, laugh rambunctiously at your own spectacular joke and throw your arm around your aunt in a fit of giggles. Then just stay there on your aunt’s shoulder for a bit and keep eating, making sure to chew obnoxiously in her ear. Add loud slurping for a bit of pizzaz. If you want to get extra credit, laugh again at someone else’s joke later in the meal and “accidentally” spit a piece of food onto her plate.
      • This labor-intensive solution will hopefully make your aunt become more aware of her own chewing.
  4. Show her this post.

Do you have any questions that need answering? Send them to Ask TheWebWeavers using the Contact Page. Please specify if you want your letter to be anonymous. If you want the world to know who you are (otherwise known as this small corner of the internet), we’ll add a link to your blog to help spread the love.

I Never Learned About Stranger Danger

Most children are taught at a young age about ‘Stranger Danger’. It’s the time when their expectations for a perfect world full of good people are dashed, and to add salt to an already-burning wound, their childhood is crushed like a fresh leaf underfoot.

Their wonderous, big-eyed, childish glow is muted by the fact that not everyone loves you. That not everyone holds your wants and needs and safety close to their hearts. That not everyone will hold your hand when you cross the street.

It’s when you start to look around at the world and you see kidnappers and murderers and thieves and rapists lurking behind every innocuous and smiling face. When you stop talking to strangers and making friends outside of your comfort zone. When you cling to your parents, your courage crushed and your fears multiplied ten-fold.

But, of course, there are always exceptions. Children who choose to believe in humanity. Children who believe that nothing bad can happen, no skinned knees or scraped wrists, as long as they don’t cheat on their next vocabulary test. Oh, they’re aware, of course, of strange men in white vans giving free candy to children. But stuff like that is the work of fiction, or it happens to faraway people. Never at home. Never to good children like you.

These children know that danger exists. But they won’t recognize it when it tries to hide.


My parents attempted, like most other parents, to teach me about stranger danger and the faults of the world. But I did not believe them. Why would anyone hurt me? I’m so adorable. I’m invincible!

Another lesson of theirs, however, did seem to seep into my skull. They told me that if anything bad were ever to happen (they never specified, but I assumed they meant skinned knees and scraped wrists) to tell the nearest adult.

Adults are to be trusted. They are always good and they always know better.

I, as a child, believed this full-heartedly. I had experienced first-hand the cruelty of children, but without much contact with adults aside from my teachers and parents, I had no reason to disbelieve my parents’ words.

Children are so awful, how could adults be the same? I was sure they out-grew their monstrousness at some point.

Thankfully, nothing bad ever happened where I had to trust my life to some random adult. I mean, there was that time I got lost at the Target and I was mentally preparing myself to do some stranger-talking, but my parents were just one aisle over. So…

Anyway.

When I was in second-grade, I was visiting family in Bangladesh. We were at my cousin’s house, which, as I remember it, is a single apartment building. Behind the building is a forest and in front of it is a field and the area isn’t densely populated aside from the people living in the single apartment building.

The field was absolutely packed with forget-me-nots and they would always stick to your clothing when you walked anywhere and there were tons of puddles that made an excellent jumping ground.

One day, my cousin, my brother (Scorpion), and I were playing in the field, just doing what children do. My parents and my aunt were in the house, just doing whatever it is that adults do (probably gossiping over tea). My cousin was about ten, I was seven, and Scorpion was three.

We were having an amazing time, running around and splashing in puddles, the air humid and hanging heavily, plastering sweat to our faces, when a random man on a motorcycle appeared on the road in front of the apartment.

He was wearing a black jacket and dark pants and we’d never seen him before. He asked us if we wanted a ride on his motorcycle. But he could only take two of us. His motorcycle wasn’t large enough for all three.

My cousin, Scorpion, and I quickly discussed who should go. All three of us wanted to go, obviously, but we had to decide who would be left behind.

One of my uncles has a motorcycle, too, but he rarely let us go on rides with him because he thinks it’s dangerous. But motorcycles aren’t dangerous. They’re fun. And how could something so harmless hurt?

Eventually, we decided that Scorpion and I would go since my cousin lived in Bangladesh and would occasionally get a ride from my uncle. But Scorpian and I lived in the States and a motorcycle was novel for us. Straight out of a comic book.

We asked my cousin to tell our parents where we had gone.

We were so very considerate and cared so very much for our safety…

Scorpion and I climbed onto the motorcycle, seated in front of the mystery driver, all laughter and giggles. How lucky we were for a benefactor to magically arrive and whisk us away for fun without warning.

The ride was exhilarating. I could feel the wind combing its fingers through my hair and I could smell the damp earth as the motorcycle ate it away.

But the ride continued for longer than I had expected. We were bordering on fifteen minutes. The wind turned cold and the earth turned sour. I realized how fast we were going. How much distance we had covered.

I realized I didn’t know this man’s name.

My brother was still laughing.

I started to fidget. I asked, “Can we go home now? I’m getting tired.”

The man didn’t look at me. His dark eyes were glued to the road. “Don’t you want to ride a bit longer? It’s so much fun.”

Scorpion replied, “Yeah! Let’s keep going.”

I am starting to panic, but I keep a blank face for my brother. I hold him closer.

My cousin had told me stories of infants stolen in the night. Their organs cut out and sold. I’d seen the blind men without eyes on their faces, nothing but empty sockets. I thought that she had been trying to scare me. She’d told me of little girls and boys taken and never returned. Their families grieve, but they move on with time. The little girls and boys tortured for more, more, more.

The anxiety in my stomach grows, building into a monster, clawing at me and scraping away at all self-control. I can feel the pieces flake off onto the road and they are run over by the motorcycle’s wheels, torn up by the wind, and left in the ground far behind me in a moment’s time.

I breathe in. I breathe out.

Faster, faster.

But then, I see it.

The field with the forget-me-nots and the puddles where children play.

The man slows and stops. He helps my brother down and then me.

My family is waiting, my cousin in the front.


This story is the inspiration for my short story, A Dreamer in The Darkness. Getting on that motorcycle was a really stupid idea. I was in a strange country so far away from home. I couldn’t read in the language and I could barely speak it. So many things could’ve gone wrong, but luckily, they didn’t.

Sam, the main character of A Dreamer in The Darkness, is based on me as a child. His story is what could’ve happened.

Growing a Unicorn Master

Hey, peeps! You hopefully may have noticed my absence over the past week or so. This was due to my corner of the world exploding. Over the past week, I met a Holocaust Survivor (she is so sweet), participated in a Science Olympiad tournament (I won two medals!), and skinned a rat (I would post pictures, but I feel like that would be too gory for this blog).

So, you may or may not know, but TheWebWeavers is our second blog. Both Spinette and I had our own individual “first blogs” that didn’t really work. They were both unicorn-based. (This was not planned. We just both love unicorns). My blog, Unicornia, was a guide for the measly human attempting to move to Unicornia. Spinette’s blog, Unicorn Sightings, was about all things unicorn. Unicornia had three followers (two of which were Spinette and me) and Unicorn Sightings had seven (two of which were Spinette and me).

Both of these blogs still exist on the internet, but they haven’t been active in ages. I think the reason that they didn’t work was that the topics were too restrictive and it wasn’t interesting to write on over and over again. TheWebWeavers is a lot more fun because we can write about whatever we want.

However, despite being inactive, the posts on the blogs are still somewhat funny (especially Spinette’s) so they will be reshared on TheWebWeavers for everyone to read and judge. You can also determine how much we’ve improved. 😉

Here’s the first segment of the Unicornia Series, Growing a Unicorn Master. It was originally published on November 18, 2016.


Before you escape to Unicornia from this wretched world, you must know about their world. Unicorns are born from magical kernels of corn. Every corn stalk has the potential of growing a unicorn if it is cared for the right way.

Many people try to grow a unicorn before going to Unicornia. If you have a Unicorn Master, you will be more respected in your new home, and the elders will be more likely to accept you.

Growing and caring for a Unicorn Master is no easy task. Many people have tried and lost their lives in the process, but it is worth it because your amazing life in Unicornia will be much better than your boring and dull life here.

The first step in growing a Unicorn Master is finding the perfect corn seed to plant. This one of the most difficult things you will have to do. If you choose the right one, you will soon have a Unicorn Master to guide you in your new life. If you choose wrong, you may lose everything. Unicorn Kernels must be warmed by the bottled breath of a purple dragon to pop into a baby unicorn. If an Ordinary Kernel is popped by the bottled breath of a purple dragon, it will grow into a dark donkey and devour you.

The perfect corn seed is difficult to find. There is only one perfect corn seed in 4,538,862 ordinary corn seeds. The perfect one will glow a light pink in the light of an Alaskan sunrise. Always check to see if you have the right corn seed! Many brave and courageous people have lost their lives because they didn’t notice that their corn seed was glowing magenta instead of pink.

Once you have found the magical seed, grow it and nurture it. Soon the corn plant will grow. The Pink Kernel is the magic one. Heat it with the breath of a purple dragon and it will become your Unicorn Master!


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