Not much to say about me. I'm an Aquarius, 18 years, I can't seem to be able to write a story with a plot past two chapters, and my hair is purple. (Now blonde again)

A large spider in an old house built a beautiful web in which to catch flies.

Every time a fly landed on the web and was entangled in it the spider devoured him, so that when another fly came along he would think the web was a safe and quiet place in which to rest. One day a fairly intelligent fly buzzed around above the web so long without lighting that the spider appeared and said, "Come on down." But the fly was too clever for him and said, "I never light where I don't see other flies and I don't see any other flies in your house." So he flew away until he came to a place where there were a great many other flies. He was about to settle down among them when a bee buzzed up and said, "Hold it, stupid, that's flypaper. All those flies are trapped." "Don't be silly," said the fly, "they're dancing." So he settled down and became stuck to the flypaper with all the other flies.

Moral: There is no safety in numbers, or in anything else.

-- James Thurber, "The Fairly Intelligent Fly"

I CANT GET UP

An old priest soon got sick of all the people in his parish who kept confessing to adultery. One Sunday, in the pulpit, he said, "If I hear one more person confess to adultery, I'll quit!" Well, everyone liked him, so they came up with a code word. Someone who had committed adultery would say they had "fallen." This seemed to satisfy the old priest and things went well, until the priest died at a ripe old age. About a week after the new priest arrived, he visited the mayor of the town and seemed very concerned. The priest said, "You have to do something about the sidewalks in town. When people come into the confessional, they keep talking about having fallen." The mayor started to laugh, realizing that no one had told the new priest about the code word. But before the mayor could explain, the priest shook an accusing finger at him and said, "I don't know what you're laughing about, your wife's already fallen three times this week!"

The last train is nearly due,

The underground is closing soon,

And in the dark deserted station,

Restless in anticipation,

A man waits in the shadows.

His restless eyes leap and scratch,

At all that they can touch or catch,

And hidden deep within his pocket,

Safe within its silent socket,

He holds a colored crayon.

- as sung by Simon & Garfunkel "A Poem on the Underground Wall"

Not much else to say, except that I'm terribly unorganized and I love your reviews!! But what author doesn't, amiright?

Feel free to look around, stay awhile, kick up a chair. There's always room for one more. :)