Kaiki
Good day. My name is Stephanie Sun. And I'm an alcoholic. huh?? NO WAIT! I'M NOT!! Well. My name IS Stephanie Sun. But I'm NOT an alcoholic. I stay away from that stuff...that and drugs. ^_^ You're thinkin, "Great, now she's gonna get all ethic on us." I'm not. Don't worry. Anyhow...on with my "Biography." Well, unlike many other authors out there (and I don't say this to be offensive), I prefer not to show my personal information. It is not for security reasons, it is merely the fact that I believe it should not matter to you where I was born, who my parents are, or why I write what I write. If you would like to learn more about me, my writings would be the first place to start. Profiles do not mean a thing, they are just facts that are forgotten in five short minutes. Writings about personal thoughts and feelings remain in the readers' minds. I can rant about the way I hate getting the right amount of change when I am shopping in the grocery store, or I can tell you how tall I am. Which will you remember more? You decide which is more worth remembering. (not that my rant IS worth remember...I just mean by comparison)What I will currently display here will be little snipets of my personal website. When I will update it and change to another topic, I do not know. I will post up new items from my website when I have the chance or when I actually get off my lazy butt. (wait, that didn't make sense. I AM on my lazy butt...well. as long as you get it) My first topic is FEAR.Not guns. Not knives. Not weapons. But the office equipment known as... Alright. Let's talk about my ultimate fear. Well, this isn't actually my ultimate fear...but it's one way to get me screaming and make me stop botherin you. Who would've thought? Steph's fear: Staplers It must be lame that I'm so scared of staplers. You're probably wondering why and how it is POSSIBLE that anyone could run away screaming because of one lousy stapler. Well...here's my story. When I was young, I guess I was playing with a stapler and stapled myself by accident. But that incident didn't traumatize me yet. No...it was that day in 7th or 8th grade, I believe. We were in class, making Christmas stuff for the walls and for the Christmas assembly we were putting on. And of course, staplers are required...to staple things together. I had to staple something to the wall...and obviously you need to open the stapler so that it's straight and you just bang it to the wall, right? The trouble is, I couldn't open it. There was some type of safety button thing or something that I had to unclick, but I didn't know that. So I struggled to get it open and, being the idiot that I was, had my THUMB at the opening where the staples come out. Click. Thumb got stapled. Haha. Are you cringing now? So...the reason I have this retarded fear of staplers because of that one incident. I stapled my thumb TWICE in my lifetime, and I'm making sure there won't be a third time. And my FRIENDS who love me oh so very much, I'm sure would just LOVE to torture me with the stapler now. You know what's a good way? Open the stapler, and pretend it's like a gun and point it at me. You don't even have to shoot. You start walkin towards me with that pointed at me and if you're lucky, I'll run away. If you're not, well, the scenario below might occur. "AUUUUGH!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" |
