So I’ve Been Gone…

Sorry, I’ve been gone for a long time. A LOOOOOOOOONG time.

I was fingerless after the keyboard amoebas ate my hands. It was quite the predicament. The injury hurt so much that I couldn’t eat my favourite cereal with my hands soaking in milk anymore, I was unable to draw, unable blog, and did I mention, I couldn’t consume the tastiest, liquidy cereal barehanded any longer? It was insane, spiders!

I tried to find a solution. I went to all the palm readers, tattooists and mimes I could find, but they all stayed silent despite my troubles. It was my life’s quest to get my hands back. Then it hit me!

After a long time of thinking, and a long time of panicking, I decided to go find a unicorn slave.

But then I realized they had hooves. Not fingers.

Now, I have a fish typing for me. It’s much more efficient, since, you know, everyone knows that fish have eight typing tentacles which they crawl with.

Wait a minute…

My slave has informed me that she is my pet spider. I am sincerely sorry; I don’t live around too many species.

XglsiruwIRsor

She just angrily jumped on the keyboard, while claiming that I’ve been with her for about ten years or so.

Oh! She just told me this is a private matter and to not have me dictate any about anymore. “A blog should be a connection between the author and reader,” she says, “without a MIDDLE MAN.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about. Men with average heights are great! Women are too.

So readers, if you have painfully average height, it’s not as painful as my late onset shortness. (I had carpet amoebas the other day.)

And remember, dear blog scanners, stay away from amoebas!

 

Arachnid Writes a Story

NARRATOR: Arachnid’s fingers dance over the keyboards as he weaves a story. Her fingers struggle to keep up as she records the symphony in her head.

ARACHNID slams her face into the keyboard after staring at a blank document for an embarrassing amount of time.

A lightbulb flashes into existence above her head as an idea comes to her. She furiously types.

She pummels the backspace bar, beating it bloody, then slams her face into the keyboard again. Random letters appear on the screen.

ARACHNID: Ugh! Why is this so hard?

LAPTOP: I’m sure it’s harder for me than it is for you. What with the beating my keys bloody and all that! (Glares)

ARACHNID: If only I chose to like something I was actually good at. Imagine how convenient it would be!

LAPTOP: And if you like something you were actually good at, you wouldn’t beat my keys bloody anymore! (Glares harder)

ARACHNID: Come on, Laptop, you’ve been with me through it all. Essays, stories, disgusting attempts at poetry… You must have some ideas!

LAPTOP (softening a bit): Well, you could try writing short, random pieces before you get back to the hard one. Just write whatever. Flex those writing muscles! Preferably without beating my keys bloody. Practice makes better, as a wise first-grade teacher once said.

ARACHNID: Whatever? As in anything I can think of? Like a scene where you give me writing advice?

LAPTOP: If you must. (Sighs)

ARACHNID: Aww. I love you, too.

I Accidentally Dented My Wall… With a Comb

This week has been a long series of mishaps and general clumsiness. But after I got over the sheer mortification, it’s actually kinda funny.

So. STORY TIME.


How I Dented the Wall With a Comb

I was doing my homework this weekend, and a comb was on my desk. Now, this was a rather hefty comb. And I got very annoyed at this comb for being on my desk. (I know, I know. The comb’s only fault was existing. It didn’t deserve its fate.) So, I did the only rational thing and decided to get it out of my sight and into the closet. But… I decided to throw it into the closet instead of calmly walking it to the closet. Cuz, yeah. Maybe I was a bit frustrated. And true, I wasn’t frustrated at the comb. I was angry at my homework, but I couldn’t very well rip up my homework. So I threw the comb at the closet. And I’m not particularly athletic, and I don’t have particularly good aim nor descent hand-eye coordination. So, I completely missed the pile of clothes at the bottom of my closet and instead hit the wall. And I kinda sorta made a dent.

BUT.

At least it’s not a hole.


How I Nearly Killed a Flute With My Clumsiness

And a few days before that, I was in band class, sitting between the people who sit to my left and right. We will call them Leftie and Rightie for simplicity. So I turned my stand and knocked Leftie’s flute OFF OF HER STAND.

Leftie, unlike me, has very good reflexes and lovely hand-eye coordination, so she somehow, like a SUPERHERO, managed to catch her flute MIDAIR, while I was shouting “ohmygodI’msosorry.”

BUT.

Five minutes later…

I knocked my stand over and Leftie AGAIN manages to catch it in midair.

AND.

Half an hour later…

I knocked my flute into Rightie’s stand and dented it. (The flute, not the stand. Which is unfortunate because I’d rather the stand was the dented one.)


How I Burned a Bunch of Rubber in a Botched Chemistry Lab

In Chemistry, we’ve been doing a lab. Lovely, lovely, lovely lab.

Yesterday we didn’t finish the first trial and today we didn’t finish the second. But that’s not the point.

After heating a crucible, we set said very hot crucible down right next to the rubber tube that feeds the gas into the bunsen burner. And then the rubber melted.

LOVELY.

The end.


So. School’s started, and I’m doing homework almost every waking minute.

My schedule:

  • 6 am: Wake up.
  • 6:30 am: Go to school.
  • 2:30 pm: Come home.
  • 3 pm: Start homework.
  • 9 pm: Hopefully finish homework.
  • 10 pm: Go to sleep and start this whole horrid cycle all over again.

So. The blog’s been a bit neglected, unfortunately. I’m hoping that I figure out the secret key to doing homework faster (Do any of you guys know?). In the meantime, my plan is to schedule posts ahead on the weekends (but to do that, I’d need a weekend that’s not packed).

A Rambling About the Purpose of Breathing and Mashed Potatoes

Welcome back to A Stream of Random Thoughts, where I will use a random word generator to generate a random word. After which I will say whatever crosses my mind!

Doesn’t that sound like fun? That sounds like a ton of fun!

Aren’t you EXCITED?!

(Can you tell by my tone that I have once again done WAY too much homework? I’m doing this while I’m trying to figure out my physics in the back of my head. It’s somewhere back there. It just has to emerge as the correct answer.)

So today’s word is…

SNIFF

 

What a wonderful word! I was thinking today, as I was walking down the hallway of my school, preparing to acquire more homework (aka, go to class), that some words are pretty because of what they mean, like bunny or happy or clover, and some are pretty because of the way they sound, like grotesque or ubiquitous or arbitrary.

bunny. happy. clover.

grotesque. ubiquitous. arbitrary.

I AM SENSING SIMILARITIES BETWEEN THESE WORDS.

My mind has exploded. You peeps must be wiping brain matter from your computer screens. Because that’s how it works. My brain explodes on THIS side of the computer, and my brain matter ends up on THAT side. (Look how connected we are. We’re friends. *Warm squishy feels*.) If only it worked like that. Then I could just reach through and steal all the cookies you guys bake without me. *pouts*

My brain is a mush. Bleh. Blech. Blah.

Blech is my favorite.

Has it occurred to you that I haven’t talked about the word sniff yet? So I was planning to go back around in a giant magical circle, but I got sidetracked because, with only slight exaggeration, my brain is a LITERAL MUSH. Bleh. Blech. Blah.

I’m breaking all the grammar rules with these fragment sentences and run-ons and WeIrd cAPitiliZAtions.

Hold on, my friend is texting me about the physics. She said my lab report was fine the way it was. She’s the second person who’s told me that. BUT I LOVE TO WORRY.

Well, back to sniffing. You sniff— I forgot about the magical circle!

Okay. I had to go figure out more physics and help Scorpion with math homework. But I’m back! And so is the magical circle.

But then I left again to wash my hands.

At this point, you guys probably think that the magical circle is way cooler than it actually is. It’s not. I hate to crush your hopes and dreams. I was just going to say that sniff is not pretty at all. It doesn’t mean a pretty thing and it doesn’t sound pretty either.

Sniff, in my opinion, is a rather annoying sound. That great inhalation. The even worse exhalation that comes afterward. Why do people even need to breath? That constant exchange of breath. Yeah, I just breathed in the air that was just INSIDE YOUR LUNGS, random stranger that I’m sitting next to on the airplane. I hate airplanes. And don’t even get me started on sneezing.

I’m just generally against most bodily functions. Blech.

Am I spouting weird mind-thoughts, peeps? My brain is a literal mush. Mushy mushy mush. Like a caveman mashed potato. You, dear reader, might be questioning the random caveman thrown in there. I am too. I don’t know, that’s what my brain decided to think when I actually meant MASHED POTATO. I pictured a mashed potato while I said a caveman.

That’s right. Welcome to my brain, where a mashed potato is a caveman.

How do you mash your potatoes, dear reader? (I always spell potato wrong, in its singular form. I always add an extra e.) Do you buy the boxed powder? Do you imagine the potato as the head of your enemy and aggressively throw it off of a tall building? Do you wash your hands thoroughly, imagine the potato as the head of your enemy, and destroy it bare-handed?

Do you, dear reader, believe that I need more sleep?

I’m Back (What’s Your Name?)

I’m Back (What’s your name?)

(haha corny jokes)

Well, I’m sort of back. Arachnid might’ve told you about how I can’t go into my WordPress account anymore because the password tap danced out of the confines of my otherwise junkyard of a brain. I’m sorry for not being on the blog for so long and not being as dedicated, but from now on I’ll try my best to post every week.

So the situation is (for now anyway) that I will write the blog on google docs first then I’ll give it to Arachnid to post under my name. It’s kind of like sockpuppet situation where the hand goes into the sock, but the sock does all the talking, if you know what I’m getting at.

Since I left, a lot of things have happened to me. I’ve been tossed into a new setting, trying to fend for myself in the vigorous cycle of high school. I’d say looking for the best human cluster to follow to my next class is the hardest thing to get the hang of. Making friends is difficult because all of my peers say I’m way too particular about how the class smells. (But I need to voice my opinions, right?)

Right now, my octopus Anipharas is sleeping and looks like a brown undersea spectacle of the senses. He brings a calm sea to my soul as well as make me swoon. I wish I could take a picture (my octopus is quite photogenic) but that would wake him up. His ears are very sensitive.

That wraps things up, I guess. I hope I can make more frequent blog posts in the future.

Bye ❤

 

The Forgotten Blog Ideas

Heyo, peeps!

I’ve had many blog post ideas over the nearly-year, some of them good, some of them bad, and some which never made the cut. As I’m one to go all-out with bad post ideas, the ones that don’t make the cut are usually just too short. Like only a couple sentences long. But I guarantee that those couple sentences are funny and they don’t deserve to rot away in my notebook of blog ideas. So why not mash them together into a disconnected post and let them have a bit of the spotlight?


  • Playing hot potato with ACTUAL hot potatoes. I mean, who even does that anymore?
  • When you think you’ve been eating multivitamins, but they’re actually gummy bears.
  • When I’m angry at someone, I find that it helps to imagine their head as a watermelon and a conveniently-placed hammer in your hand.
  • What if animals had equal rights? What if you hit a squirrel with your car and it died? Would you be charged with manslaughter (squirrelslaughter)?
  • There’s morning people (early birds), night people (night owls), and me: the perpetually tired.
  • Why did the chicken cross the road?
    • This joke is funny because the listener expects a funny punchline, but the punchline (to get to the other side) is so decidedly unfunny that it’s shocking, and therefore it’s funny.
  • What happened to all the older people in YA fantasy?
  • Nut Ramblings
    • Cashews are my favorite nut
    • Salted almonds are bad
    • Unsalted peanuts are bad
    • So since peanuts must be salted and almonds cannot be salted, peanuts and almonds can’t mix, even though they’re both nuts.
  • bubble cars
  • Is the scent of a freshly mown lawn actually grass blood?
  • Red is my favorite flavor
  • Leave an index card that is decorated and says, “Have a stunning day” in every library book you read for others to find. On the back, write, “Why, today is amazing“.
  • Never stick your hand (or anything else) in the flame. It is not good for your health. (I can’t remember what I meant by this. I don’t get the italics either.)
  • Sayings
    • Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.
    • The only possible motive for asking a question is to see what the other person knows.
    • One must always believe whatever one finds on the internet.
    • One must never have any expectations at all so one will always be impressed with one’s accomplishments.
    • The worse something tastes, the healthier it must be.
  • Emojis that should exist
    • Yellow circle (for when there is no emotion)
    • scowl
    • stick figure
    • bemused expression
    • one with crossed arms
    • half-smile
    • glaring
    • evil witch cackles
    • furrowed brows
  • From what direction do you peel a banana?
  • When I was a kid, I’d rip the heads off of gummy bears and stick them on other bodies. Is that weird?

So welcome to a piece of my mind. If you didn’t already think I was crazy, here’s some more evidence to prove you otherwise.

This was actually really helpful because while I was looking through my notebooks, I found a bunch of good ideas that I haven’t written posts for yet I think!

Showers

So today, I was looking at some random meme:

Image result for random things

Since everyone gets inspiration from memes, I decided to make a post about my own shower time limits.

When I was a small hatchling, my mother used to do this thing called Towel Time and showed me proportions of time passing using a towel. Each time she showed me this, she told me to spend less time in the shower since I was in there for too long. And I mean, extremely long—to the point to where I become a human prune!

Seriously, this meme dude has a firm grasp on this Towel Time concept because I don’t know anyone (besides the Grand Master Of the Towels, my mother) who would shower for such a short amount of time. When I step into the shower, time seems to just slip away as my fingers prune. To me, it’s like a drug—once you start, you can’t stop. Towel Time would be the creepy cigarette commercial after I’m done.

Now, let me break down the things I actually do in the shower.

Unlike the meme, I do not have the brain capacity to reflect on the universe and instead sing an odd blended combination of Kpop, the Heathers Musical, Disney songs and the National Anthem of the U.S.A. (I just really like singing the National anthem okay?). Also, bits of other pop songs I like on the radio are stuffed in as well. This takes about 70% of my shower time.

Before I start to sing, I talk to You for awhile and fantasize about situations could never be in. Of course, this is the other 29% remaining plus the other 1% dedicated to actually doing things that are supposed to be done in these water hubs.

Yep. Time Management.

 

 

 

 

Untitled Part 1

I stir the tea with a red lollipop,watching the brown swirl into a soft velvet. Clink! The “pop” part of the snack fizzes into a flurry of small, soapy pink bubbles as I hit it against the inside of the ceramic cup. With a playful smirk, I carefully lift up the white stick remaining, noting it’s end, burnt in a hue of electric purple.

I call, “Olth? Are you responsible for this sorcery?” My smile twitches, in a state between proud and furious.

Olth skips down the curved stairway, her black sneakers blending with the dark carpeting of the steps. A grin cuts through her oddly geometric face, teeth sharp and pointed. She nods, “Yes. I am. I was hoping you would drink it, first.”

“I’m not that gullible,” I say, my lips in a mock pout.

“You were about to…Allete, I mean, just look at your lollipop!” She snickers, her tall shadow towering over me. Even if she was a bit bigger, I was older and the more responsible one. She giggled a bit, her nonsensical joking followed by a cute sneeze. It reminded me of her young years.

“Wait. You just sneezed…” I stutter, my panicked side kicking in, “Where is the teapot?”

Olth’s yellow, somewhat reptilian eyes dart to the maple wood table, now empty with the exception of the poisonous drink. Her sharp teeth curve into a frown, skin paling from a purple-grey to a lighter shade. She seems to shrink.

“You teleported it, didn’t you?” I grit my teeth, clenching my fist.

“Yep,” she mumbles. Even her words seem small.

“Where to?” I ask, releasing my anger into a somewhat petty guise, stroking her hair like a dog’s fur, hoping desperately that Olth would impress me again and actually know to where she teleported the item.

“I don’t know,” She whispers, microscopically.

“You are such a chore,” I whine, whipping out my broomstick and witch’s hat. I put the hat on, muffling my messy chocolate brown hair. Olth was always jealous of it (she only has unidentifiable white noodles after all) so I pull some out of my cap, clearly agitated.

Sinking in guilt, the tall reptilian girl sulks towards the circular gold framed window, unlatching it to let in the cool May air.

Olth and I board my broom, with me in the front, ready for lift off. A puff of wind elevates us into the sky, blue and dotted with white puffy clouds.

“What’s wrong?” I question, gazing at Olth’s expression, as sad as melting ice cream. She whimpers. I can’t stay mad at her, so I tuck my hair back in my hat and say, “It’s alright. We’ll get the teapot before anyone drink out of it. Focus on searching, okay?”

Olth gives me a foxy smile, getting to work, her jet black pupils becoming slits in concentration. With her, I scan the town, glancing between the clotheslines, the brown brick buildings and the slinking smoke-stack trains. The breeze plays with my hat, threatening to to let it drop to the ground. I fight the urge to fix it, maintaining two hands on my broom stick, flying responsibly.

“I don’t think the teapot is up here,” Olth tells me, tapping my shoulder.

“Oh!” I waggle my eyebrows, “Do you want to dip down? For losing a teapot?”

“Am I that predictable?” Olth giggles as I ascend upwards above a cake white layer of fluff. Tiny dew drops sprinkle our faces as our broomstick pokes a hole in the cloudscape. My bestie yells in exhilaration; the sound of an adorable mix of a snake’s tongue and a kitty’s growl.

“Are you ready?” I declare.

“Y—”

I dip down before she can finish, the wind tearing at our faces, stomachs dropping as we went hurdling towards the ground. The broom fans out, losing a few yellow hairs. With a rush, our vehicle turns from vertical to horizontal, our legs only two inches from the brick.

“Woohoo!” I pump my fist up, energized and swiftly turn my broom towards the building, going up and down between colorfully decorated clotheslines. I howl in laughter at Olth, watching her battle a woman’s undergarment, trying to claw it off her face, “Fllll-y a bbit slewor!” she screams.

I fly a bit faster, just for kicks and giggles. “That’s what you get for losing the teapot,” I say, my voice hanging off the edge of “pot” as if asking a question.

“Tek thiz off mi faece firrst!” She demands. I stop the broom, tossing the undergarment away with ease.

“Better?” I ask.

She nods.

I look both ways, although there is no broom traffic today and in the midst of honking cars, I see a curious looking man sitting on a mini-fridge, moving the dinosaur magnets on the front as if they were puppets in a play. He opens the fridge, taking out a can of cola and for a split second I spot…

“THE TEAPOT!” Olth yells, shaking my shoulders, “The man! The mini-fridge!”

I take off, swooping under a billboard sign before landing on the sidewalk. We run over to the man, but as we do he stands up and picks up the fridge.

“No! That teapot is ours!” I yell.

He takes a long, hard look at us, his eyes squinting into nonexistence. Slowly, he bends down.

“Thank you!”Olth cheers, giving out a toothy grin.

And he gives the fridge to a little child on a red bicycle.

Olth and I exchange “what the blobfish” glances before jumping on the broom and racing after the pint sized kid. He cycles through a bustling road of traffic, the wheels on his tyke moving much faster than they should be.

Cars all around him stop and honk; some even crash into each other in a desperate flee to avoid the little devil. Our broom zig zags behind him, my partner in crime grabbing for the fridge and failing to do so on every account. She finally latches onto kid’s bicycle handle, attempting to squirm her way to fridge without falling off. Her hand brushes the side of the fridge, her hand glowing purple. She starts to say something under her breath but before she can, the boy accelerates, pulling Olth’s white noodly hair.

“OUch!” she screeches, in full on hyena type sense, “Stop that, kid! That teapot is ours!” She grabs onto the very edge of the mini fridge, body over extending between the broomstick and the bike. I take siege of her hips, as the child pedals frantically, dragging us behind him. In the end, the kid sends us tumbling down, Olth breaking my fall and I breaking my broom’s fall.

“Hey,” The little man’s voice is much deeper than expected, “What are you doing here? Why does a witch and a stupid animal want this prized petite fridge for, huh?”

Olth growls.

“We want the teapot inside…please,” I tremble as he walks up to me.

“Ha!” The kid lights up a cigarette, “You’re a such a peculiar witch. Most witches I know don’t even have sense of humor.”

“What witches do you know, you stupid kid?” Olth roars, covering me in an instant.

“Many,” He responds with cool, calm composure, “But, I certainly don’t know any of your kind. You are interesting.”

“So… can you at least check the fridge for a teapot?” I ask, my voice tiny against the verbal fighting.

“Only in exchange for your creature,” He bargains.

“She’s not a creature,” I declare firmly.

“You didn’t let me finish, you snob,” He states, “I was going to say ‘Only in exchange for creature and for you to come to the market with me!'”

“Why would you want that?” I shoot a question at him.

“Because you two are entertaining and we need entertainers for the auction tonight. The idiotic poor men always get bored and cranky.” And he deflects it, swiftly.

It’s My Birthday!

Dudes! It’s my birthday! Which simultaneously amazing and terrifying. Amazing because the entire day is dedicated to celebrating my existence and terrifying because I’m old now. I am turning into a raisin!

Scorpian (my little brother) outdid himself. He got me nine enamel cactus pins and this morning he slid this adorable note under my door. And, gah. He’s just amazing. *Radiating sibling love*

 

They’ve also left me alone and I have a headache and I’m talking to Siri…

Greta Thinks She’s A Labrador Retriever

I need a Greta. (I’ve finally repotted Sergeant Spike!)

Remember when you were first in love and the idea of taking a shower together seemed like such a romantic thing to do? That is until you realized that only one person could get under the shower head at a time. Plus, there really wasn’t enough room and soapy elbows polked soapy “insert your favorite […]

via Greta Thinks She’s A Labrador Retriever — Everyone Else Has the Best Titles

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…

View original post 1,174 more words

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.

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.

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!


Do you have any topics that you want us to talk about in a post? Leave a suggestion in the comments.

My Odd Little Addictions

1. Cinnamon Toast Crunch

This cereal is my guilty pleasure. Every time I pass the cereal box, I take out a single square, then a handful and then, if I have the time, put some in a bowl with milk and start crunching. It’s a serious problem. I have gained one pound from this cereal eating.

2. Keeping my face in one solitary expression, unless I’m laughing

Expressing emotions through my face lately has been too much work. I feel like it kind of turns people off, because whenever people say hi to me and I say hi back, I don’t smile. An example of an incident would be today, when I sneezed very loudly, like I usually do. A guy murmured, “That’s the loudest and most expressive I’d ever seen her.” Almost immediately after he said that I reverted to my blank slate. (Note: this “addiction” hasn’t killed any friendships yet)

3. Earrings

I’ve taken an addiction to earrings lately. I wear them almost every single day and probably lose one every month due to overuse. (I’m actually terrible at keeping my earrings on my actual ears or possession. I’ve broken apart four pairs since January of the last year which is quite sad. It’s like I’m the wedding crasher in movies.) The funny thing is that I used to DESPISE earrings, but now I love them and treat them like little children that I keep losing and buying more of. It’s a fun relationship.

4. Gazing/Touching people’s feet

Feet are just really interesting. I love their little inner workings and cute yet harsh shape. Usually, I enjoy feminine feet, especially with the the nails painted. I haven’t touched a lot of feet yet, but I tend to go towards the feet of people I’m close to. It’s also quite hilarious to see their reactions. So I asked a friend, Fishy, “You always wear socks. Why don’t you give your toes some fresh air?”

“My feet are big though…”

So ignoring her insecurities, I tore off her sock and thought to myself, More surface area for me!

I am terrible.

5. This Japanese commercial for Sakeru Gum.

The commercial is truly amazing. It’s like a series, with each episode ending with an epic song. I really want to buy the gum now. Let me give you guys the link:

SAKERU GUMMY

My Strange Sense of Humor

It is nearly impossible for me to write or say something without at least a twinge of humor in it, but it is quite possible for this subtle humor to fly over someone’s head due to the strangeness of it [joke]. For this post, in every sentence that I write something funny, I will add “[joke]”, so you can be sure you know when to laugh [joke].

Many of my jokes rely on the fact that they make no sense. For example, “The graduating carrot ate a rutabaga the size of a football field” [joke]. (I am figuratively dying of laughter at my own joke right now [joke].) [joke] (The previous joke was the punctuation if you didn’t catch it [joke].) [joke]

Since most of my jokes are ununderstandable [joke], many people in real life, with the exclusion of Spinette, don’t get it, and therefore, don’t laugh at the proper cues.

On the flip side, I usually don’t comprehend their jokes and I don’t laugh at the appropriate times either.

On the other flip side [joke], sometimes I laugh at unintentional jokes, and in these instances, I am the only one laughing. For example, once, in geometry class long ago, we were reviewing volume. The math teacher related the volume of an object to packing boxes and he mentioned that a one-inch squared packing box would be fairly useless. A kid next to me said that one could ship a sugar cube.

I burst out laughing/snorting. Of course, the rest of the class was dead silent and I think the person who said it was dead serious [joke] because he didn’t laugh either. Not even a chuckle.

I, of course [joke], found this to be the funniest thing ever due to the impracticality of shipping a single sugar cube in a one-inch squared packing box and burst into random fits of giggles for the rest of class.

P.S. Something that I find enormously hilarious is saying “Have fun” when someone says that they have to go to the bathroom. It earns me strange looks, but it is great on my part. It’s even funnier when, due to habit, people say, “I will”.

*Maniacal laughter*