Posts Tagged ‘Mongolia’

Guest Blogger!

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

Hi!  My name is Artemis, and I am the guest blogger for today! How exciting is that! Does this annoy you that I am ending everything in an exclamation mark!  Because it should!  In real life, I don’t actually talk like this!  I actually talk very monotone and it is quite boring and nobody listens to me wahhh wahhh well except my pet snake.  His name is Pez.  I picked him out from the pet store down the street when I was five, and he has been my best friend every since. One time I put him in an urn because I thought he would like it in there.  He got stuck because he is a boa constrictor.  I had to break the urn to get him out.

My mom was very upset because that was her favorite urn.  She got it from Egypt in the year 1920.  Yes, she is that old.  She is also not Egyptian, but Mongolian.  I went to Mongolia once when I was ten.  I ate this raw fish and it made my very sick.  I spent fifteen days in the general Mongolian hospital while my mother (who was younger at the time), my father (who is Australian), and my older sister did tourist stuff around the country.  I dislike tourist stuff.  So maybe it was a good thing I was sick.

That was definitely the trip from hell.  We went to India afterward which was a huge mistake because that was the pre- Slumdog Millionaire days.  Whatever that means.  Anyway our flight was delayed and I missed the episode of “Glee” that I had been dreaming about the entire 6 – month trip.  I MISSED IT. OH NO NOW I’M TALKING IN ALL CAPS. WELL I MISSED THE SHOW AND I WAS SUPER DUPER ANGRY.  SO ANGRY THAT I DECIDED I WOULD NEVER TRAVEL OUT OF THE COUNTRY AGAIN.  So, I have not left this nation, nay, this state, nay, this little town of nobody, in TWELVE YEARS.  YES THIS PIECE OF INFORMATION DESERVES TO BE WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS.

Anyway, I’m known in my hometown as The Girl Who Never Leaves.  They all expect me to live here forever with my sixteen pet cats (I actually have ten but one is pregnant and due any day).  But little do they know that I have actually have had an arranged marriage waiting for me with a millionaire from India.  That’s right folks.  While I was pacing, worried about missing Glee, the only show worth watching on this earth, my loving parents had set up a marriage between me and the richest man in India.  So now I’m just waiting to gain my citizenship for India, and then it will be adios, Americans!  My children will be beautiful, half Indian, quarter Mongolian, and quarter Australian.  I already have names picked out:  Athena, Hermes, and Zeus.  Lovely, right?  I hope it will convey their inner strength.

By the way, Pez died last year.  We had a serene burial in my backyard, which all of my loving family and friends attended.  He was buried next to my pet hermit crabs which had accidentally died two years ago.  But that’s a different story.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes.  My children will be gods and goddesses.  My cats will not be able to join me in India because I am afraid they will be eaten.  I am leaving them in the care of my old sister, who is an old maid and will never make anything of her life.  She is the true cat lady of our family.  She will love my cats like the children she will never have because she will remain a virgin for the rest of her life.  Sad, right?  I know.  A while ago I thought it would be nice of me to help her, so I set her up on a date with this nice young man from New Jersey.  He looked clean-cut, articulate, and no tattoos.  However, little did I know that he was actually a serial killer.  My sister barely escaped with her life; however, the creep was put in jail.  My sister did not speak to me for years after, but she eventually got over it.  How was I to know that the man was a killer?  Really, sister, really?

This is a picture of my sister.  Her hair is so large it covers her face, which is probably a good thing, if you know what I mean.  We do not get along, in case you cannot tell.  However, she loves cats.  So that is why I am giving mine to her when I go marry my millionaire.

And that is my story.

The end.

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