<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:19:23.477-07:00</updated><category term='Stacie'/><category term='first'/><category term='blog'/><category term='sister'/><category term='family'/><title type='text'>Porcelain Mirror</title><subtitle type='html'>Life from the viewpoint of one in the middle!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2116833710994903144</id><published>2008-12-21T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T15:51:07.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Debt to Society</title><content type='html'>Yeah, sorry I haven't been writing. Life goes on, you know. Just because your sister's missing doesn't mean you can quit school. And besides, I've been trying to convince the parents that I'm reformed. As in, no more sneaking out or worrying about Elaine. And guess what? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They bought it&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm free to do what I want, so long as I play Zombie Child. Nothing much has happened, though. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh- I'll report on Cecily's journal tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2116833710994903144?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2116833710994903144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2116833710994903144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2116833710994903144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2116833710994903144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/12/debt-to-society.html' title='Debt to Society'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-3652420970039426070</id><published>2008-11-14T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T19:44:41.369-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Cecily</title><content type='html'>Yo, sorry about not updating- busy with finals and the like (darn the trimester system!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent all of rehearsal today (three hours) reading Cecily's journals. Winter sent them up a few weeks ago, but I haven't dared touch them. Mom got really mad when she saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Winter, your sister's a pretty interesting person. Level-headed, probably, but what was with her and conspiracy theories?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ice, thanks for the messages. I've been thinking about what you said- maybe Elaine &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; meant to disappear. But if that's the truth, who's behind it all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the Feral will have answers, but I doubt it. All I've gotten from them is the runaround. Their site was surprisingly easy to break into, but the trail seems to end rather rapidly. I can't shake the feeling I've only stumbled upon their security measure. If only there was some way of knowing who's behind it all, 'cause there's got to be someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answers will come, perhaps, but in the meantime all I can do is try not to take out annoying people at school with my epic skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-3652420970039426070?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/3652420970039426070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=3652420970039426070' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3652420970039426070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3652420970039426070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/11/sweet-cecily.html' title='Sweet Cecily'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-6360646764104944490</id><published>2008-11-05T19:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T19:09:50.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom...</title><content type='html'>Well, no one's been reading. Or at least, no one's been commenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slipped my marked batch of Halloween candy to a neighbor who teaches- he said he needs candy for his desk at school. Maybe someone will find me from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much has happened- I've been practicing my fighting skills, and it's weird how much I know. It's almost as if I was trained in this, but that's impossible. Anyways, like I said, nothing new. See you around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-6360646764104944490?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/6360646764104944490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=6360646764104944490' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6360646764104944490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6360646764104944490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/11/boredom.html' title='Boredom...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-6340376413994386318</id><published>2008-10-31T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:24:26.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry to commandeer it like this,,,</title><content type='html'>Stacie-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, it's Winter. Sorry to steal your blog like this (couldn't resist), but I've got a message for you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The link should work now- for anyone, not just members. If you can find it (it's somewhere on that page, but I don't know where), you can get in. It was hard work, and I think they probably have a fail-safe in case people get in like this, but hopefully it's a start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah- s+@g3_n1nj@. Remember it. Use it. It's your ally. And sorry for sending you the journals, I forgot your parents don't know about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be watching...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_w1nt3r_&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-6340376413994386318?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/6340376413994386318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=6340376413994386318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6340376413994386318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6340376413994386318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorry-to-commandeer-it-like-this.html' title='Sorry to commandeer it like this,,,'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-3975783155942147014</id><published>2008-10-31T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:20:35.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grounded</title><content type='html'>Yeah, sorry for not writing. I got grounded even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Winter, it's all your fault. Yeah, I know I'm helping you find Cecily, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; did you have to send me her journals in the mail? The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mail&lt;/span&gt;!!! 'Cause Mom found out and got mad and took the computer away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got it back about ten minutes ago, and there's big news!! Ready? Good:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm inside the Feral&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nanite found the entrance point for their Web community. But I can't get in- it only works from certain computers. People who are already members of the site. At least, I think that's it. Winter, any chance you could send me one of those hacker nanites you showed me? I know you mentioned something like it once- you know, those ones that you slammed the DoD with last fall (oops, probably shouldn't have said that...) that fool the computers into thinking you're a member. Yeah, send me one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh- I almost forgot! Since Mom and Dad are so unconcerned about Elaine (Mom packed up her stuff yesterday. Her room's empty now.), I'm garnering support this Halloween! I'm in charge of handing out candy, so I'll be sending out little slips of paper along with them. They'll have this URL on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter, please send me that stuff!!&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-3975783155942147014?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/3975783155942147014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=3975783155942147014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3975783155942147014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3975783155942147014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/grounded.html' title='Grounded'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-4533835497488305839</id><published>2008-10-24T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T18:09:12.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Brief Note</title><content type='html'>No decisions on the Feral yet, I really just wanted to forget the whole thing for a while. Ice, if you're reading this, I watched MST3K on YouTube all afternoon :) Tomorrow I'll be back to my stressed self, praying for guidance (and trying to find out how to get past Mom and Dad. Or just trying to figure out Mom and Dad. Either way, they're on my mind.) Winter, I need advice- what does the "f3r4l" page mean? Is it some sort of code? Guess I'll figure it out later. Oh- Mom's calling. Better go.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;~Stacie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-4533835497488305839?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/4533835497488305839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=4533835497488305839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4533835497488305839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4533835497488305839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/brief-note.html' title='A Brief Note'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-5372875735099665810</id><published>2008-10-24T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T07:51:26.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So weird,,,</title><content type='html'>So I check first thing this morning (fall break today, it's lovely) and the first thing to pop up is &lt;a href="http://www.freewebs.com/f3r4l/hellogoodbye.htm"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. Weird, huh? I don't know why it's here. just that it exists. Do I break in? I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's with the Children 18:3 song? Is it some sort of code?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Winter- thanks for the note :) It's nice to know I'm not alone. And if I find out anything on Cecily, I will tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-5372875735099665810?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/5372875735099665810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=5372875735099665810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5372875735099665810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5372875735099665810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-weird.html' title='So weird,,,'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-1133136129625183761</id><published>2008-10-23T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T20:38:12.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Proverbial Needle</title><content type='html'>I emailed Winter and told her about my problems with finding stuff on the Feral. She was quick to respond (always is, actually) and sent me one of her nanites. This one was designed like a search engine- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt;, according to its creator. The idea is that I release the program onto the Net, and it brings me back all results relating to the Feral. The catch? Only secure/members-only sites are brought up. I can then choose to use the nanite to "break in" and either (a. become a member or (b. covertly steal information. Not sure which one to try yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I'm still grounded and I still fight like Jackie Chan. Mom and Dad don't think it's weird, though. Dad just made a comment on "getting control" when he found me in the basement practicing on Mom's exercise mats. This is so unlike them, it's weird. And they let me keep the laptop. which is even weirder. It's almost like I'm not getting punished. (Except for the grounding, of course.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm going to release the nanite and get to sleep... so long!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-1133136129625183761?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/1133136129625183761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=1133136129625183761' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1133136129625183761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1133136129625183761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/proverbial-needle.html' title='The Proverbial Needle'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-8925054223816037928</id><published>2008-10-23T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T10:36:38.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess who found me...?</title><content type='html'>Well, guess what? I'm back at home. Yep, no more Florida. Too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem started because of my stupid flesh memories. You know, the reason I'm some sort of black belt. Stupid, stupid, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stupid&lt;/span&gt; flesh memories. 'Cause when some idiot tried to "assault" Winter on the Greyhound to Georgia (yeah, I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; on my way to getting some answers!), I stepped in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And broke his nose. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the damage was so severe that we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to call the hospital, and then when he recovered the creep &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to call &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;la policia&lt;/span&gt;, who of course &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to take me in and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to check to see if I was reported to Missing Persons. Turns out I was, but not Elaine. I just don't get that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and Dad got down here &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fast&lt;/span&gt;. They were really relieved that I was all right, but they also were freaking furious at me for running away. But not as furious as I expected them to be. After all, they should be worried about Elaine, right? Right? But instead, all they do is lecture me on how I won't stop talking about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation since then sounds pretty much just like this:&lt;br /&gt;Me: But Dad, Elaine could be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anywhere&lt;/span&gt;! We have to go find her!&lt;br /&gt;Dad: Calm down, Anastacia. (Yeah, stupid name. Shut up.) I know she was close to you-&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Close&lt;/span&gt; to me? She was my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sister&lt;/span&gt;! She was more than &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;close&lt;/span&gt; to me!&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Don't talk to your father that way! You scared us half to death!&lt;br /&gt;Me: But what about-&lt;br /&gt;Dad: Not another word, young lady.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: You are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; grounded when we get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it goes on and on. What I don't understand is this: why are they not worried about Elaine? I even told them about Gerard- it was a necessary decision, albeit a stupid one- and they just wrote it off. "Calm down." Mom said, sounding like Dad. "We know you loved her, but she's fine, I'm sure." They keep talking about her in the past tense, like she died or some other weird thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm stuck here at home. I can go to school (and they were nice enough to count the Florida trip as alternate education, so I don't have to make up the work. The weird thing is that it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mom and Dad&lt;/span&gt; who set that up. I guess I thought they'd &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; me to be punished with extra studying.) and I can get on the Internet, but no talking to people any other way. And there's no Chris to talk to, and Sylvia's avoiding me. Says her parents are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mad&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing left for me to do- oh, wow, I just got an idea. Ice was the one who discovered the Feral for me, and he said it has a massive online community. Might as well try to break into it, but how am I going to do that? Oh, I'm stupid. I've got Winter's email!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time,&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-8925054223816037928?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/8925054223816037928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=8925054223816037928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8925054223816037928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8925054223816037928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/guess-who-found-me.html' title='Guess who found me...?'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2782167838483078712</id><published>2008-10-11T08:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T08:38:58.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just call me the Karate Kid</title><content type='html'>We're officially off to Georgia!! Now that everything's fixed, we can continue the search for Gerard and my sister. "We", of course, meaning Winter, Ice, and I. Winter's sticking with me because we're both searching for similar answers, and I think Ice just likes me, which is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But about the post title. We almost got mugged last night (sleeping in a dumpster to save food money isn't the wisest course of action), and it was terrifying. But I saved us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me.&lt;/span&gt; The teen from Westfield, youngest in the group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How? Well, apparently I have flesh memories. Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Bourne Identity&lt;/span&gt;, when Jason fights off these two cops without realizing how he's doing it. So when the gangbangers jumped us, I just took off with some crazy martial-arts routine. Winter said it was like watching Jackie Chan. Ice started talking in an accent. I laughed at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really crazy, because now I can do all this weird stuff. Like breaking glass with my bare hands. I get cut, but it doesn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hurt&lt;/span&gt;. I found this out when Ice handed me a bottle of olives (don't ask me why they were packed that way, I don't know) and I karate-chopped them open. Winter bandaged up my hand and gave me a lecture about listening to Ice. He just grinned and cracked kung-fu jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sitting on yet another Greyhound, bound for Atlanta to investigate a group known as the Feral. Apparently, they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;huge&lt;/span&gt;, with an equally massive online community. See you when we get there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2782167838483078712?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2782167838483078712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2782167838483078712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2782167838483078712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2782167838483078712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-call-me-karate-kid.html' title='Just call me the Karate Kid'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2299608657043342114</id><published>2008-10-10T14:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T14:17:40.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explanations</title><content type='html'>GAH!!! I thought I would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;die&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid hackers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter (crazy, awesome person that she is) took me to camp with her. Camp Cyber, to be exact. It's her boarding house/commune where she lives with others of her ilk. Hackers mostly, with a few robot-building geeks in there along for the ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, we get there, and then the whole place is blacked out by a stupid electrical storm. Like, a real Florida storm with winds and rains and weather alerts. I thought we were all going to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we didn't, obviously. Though being caught in Camp Cyber with thirty Internet- deprived computer geeks is almost as bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what happened? Simple:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; one of the hackers decided to test a new worm. Winter, actually. Apparently her specialty is "nanites", named for the robots on Star Trek The Next Generation. She invented them- they're worms that do things. Like look for data or fix system bugs. And then they vanish from the system by "dying out", or erasing themselves. But  Winter decides to hack into the power grid and transfer power from another sector to our residence, and somehow by doing this she wrecks the Wi-Fi. And hey presto! No Internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, everyone was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; unhappy with Winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done anything Gerard-related, mostly because I got an email from Sylvia about how my parents found out I ran off. She suggested I lay low, and I followed her advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah- I met this really great guy! His name's Ice (another alias, of course) and he builds cambots (camera-equipped robots). And he likes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mystery Science Theater 3000.&lt;/span&gt; So when Winter's working (she's one of the few with an actual &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;job&lt;/span&gt;- she works with Geek Squad), I'll hang out with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I can return to the chase soon, but until then, it's farewell from Camp Cyber!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2299608657043342114?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2299608657043342114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2299608657043342114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2299608657043342114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2299608657043342114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/10/explanations.html' title='Explanations'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-1649525889709424812</id><published>2008-09-18T19:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T03:38:56.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have I Crossed the Line? You decide...</title><content type='html'>I met a hacker today. Her name's Winter- at least, that's her business name. Says that giving out her true identity is crazy, in case she ever needs to use it. I'm serious- everything she's got is set for Winter Ratterfield, but that's not her real name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met by accident, on the Greyhound bus. Her Wi-Fi was messing with my laptop, and she sent me a "beta" worm to make sure it worked. I got mad and started yelling at her, and we finally struck up a conversation of sorts. Turns out she's investigating the mysterious death of her cousin, who expired quite suddenly after breaking off a relationship that began over the Internet. I was surprised she told me that quickly, but when I told her so she just smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're no Fed." she said. "I was in your com, remember?" (I suppose "com" means computer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we talked for a long time about one thing or another, and then we both got off in some quiet little town near the northern Florida border. I'm working my way west, and she might come with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped at an internet cafe, and she broke in to the Missing Persons Database for me. Yeah, I know. Not exactly legal, and I was kind of scared when she did it. But somehow it balanced itself out all right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're together now, each searching for fulfillment in some way. And somehow my job seems a little smaller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-1649525889709424812?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/1649525889709424812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=1649525889709424812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1649525889709424812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1649525889709424812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/have-i-crossed-line-you-decide.html' title='Have I Crossed the Line? You decide...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-4673995805268299083</id><published>2008-09-17T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T18:22:06.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Much</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't been writing, but there's not been a lot of time. I've basically spent the last week on a Greyhound bus, riding from one corner of Florida to the other. I've not made contact with any more communes yet, but I did get called in by the police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I witnessed an accident. This probably happened on the Greyhound- in fact, we stopped to offer help and follow the law- but I actually saw what appeared to be a car crashing into a telephone pole. I had to give a statement (and quickly whip up some credentials about who I was- thankfully I look older than I am) and describe what I think the driver was doing. It wasn't pretty, but finally they let me go, and I was free to resume my search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually thinking about heading to Georgia- apparently there's some sort of large group there, at least according to Yvonne's church. I went there for a service on Tuesday and spoke with their cult outreach minister. She said she'd put Elaine's name out there, along with Chris, and that anyone connected with a commune or cult named Gerard would be sent to me via e-mail. So I've been checking, but so far, no response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm off to Georgia. See you when I get there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-4673995805268299083?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/4673995805268299083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=4673995805268299083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4673995805268299083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4673995805268299083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/not-much.html' title='Not Much'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-6025353533328847809</id><published>2008-09-13T06:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T07:09:39.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One World (but not mine)</title><content type='html'>I left the cafe and went straight for the One World site- just outside Frostproof, Florida in an ex-orange grove. I met my liaison to the inside- a rather short college dropout named Yvonne. She explained to me that what I was about to see was typical, normal commune life- no special ceremonies or rituals for the sake of a guest. I agreed, and we entered the compound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very simple- most of the people lived in tents or cabins that could have been handmade. The one professional structure was their dining hall, which had both air conditioning and indoor plumbing that linked to Frostproof's sewage system. Apparently they didn't believe in shunning all the comforts of home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Yvonne took me to the dining hall for dinner, and I was introduced to the other members of the settlement. There were too many to name here, but I remember clearly a teen girl resembling Sylvia, and then their founder, the oldest man among them, whose name was Liam. (They all shunned surnames to foster a sense of connection)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate dinner, which was fried tofu and homegrown green beans (surprisingly good, considering I'm not a fan of tofu) and Liam explained to me the philosophy behind One World. He told me that they aren't a cult, that if I were to join (there was no pressure to do that at all, surprisingly) I would be allowed to visit family and keep my friends and laptop- even leave, if I wanted to. He said that One World was a "political group" whose only agenda was to "convince people to change the intolerant, too-powerful regime currently ruling." It wasn't just an American group, either (hence the name "One World"), and they reached out to others via their Web site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very enjoyable evening, spent airing my political views (I wasn't aware I HAD political views until I met these people) and drinking Fresca around a campfire... but there was one problem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No Gerard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There wasn't anything I could do about that- though I will say that I wouldn't mind Elaine or Chris ending up with the folks from One World- so it was with great sadness that I had to take my leave. I told Yvonne and Liam about Gerard, Elaine, and Chris, and both offered their sympathy and help. Yvonne goes to a non-governmental church every week, and she offered to put my sister's name into their cult outreach program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We get a lot of people who  turn up without a home." she said. "They sometimes don't remember who they are, and we have to get them to a hospital and home again. I'll put in Chris's name too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thanked her and headed back into Frostproof proper. I slept under a bridge (really uncomfortable, but I'm not spending food &amp;amp; transportation money on a hotel room when the ground is free), and now I'm eating breakfast at McDonald's and plotting where to go next. Hopefully it'll be as nice as One World.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-6025353533328847809?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/6025353533328847809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=6025353533328847809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6025353533328847809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6025353533328847809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/one-world-but-not-mine.html' title='One World (but not mine)'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-4162555397323125034</id><published>2008-09-12T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T13:34:40.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And now, from the middle of nowhere...</title><content type='html'>Hello everyone!! I am currently sitting in an internet cafe with my dad's laptop, the charger plugged into a wall. It's been a crazy week (no surprise there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's what happened:&lt;br /&gt;1. I convinced my parents to let me go on this trip with Sylvia. What they didn't know was that the trip was just a cover for me to find Gerard.&lt;br /&gt;2. They told me it would take the place of my summer camp trip. I was fine (I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; that stupid camp), so I got the tuition money from that to spend.&lt;br /&gt;3. I told my parents we were leaving on Wednesday morning, and that I would spend the night at Sylvia's. Funny thing is, I told Sylvia's parents to pick me up on Wednesday before the trip.&lt;br /&gt;4. Sylvia picked me up and drove me to the nearest Greyhound terminal. (It took an hour. There aren't Greyhound terminals in Westfield.), and bid me farewell. She then went back and told her parents that she's sorry, but I suddenly fell ill with appendicitis (never had it, so the story's plausible.) and my whole family is at the hospital, and don't bother calling because recovery will take a long time (apparently, the darn thing actually tore itself in two), and I'd asked that they take the trip and I'd just go to summer camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bought it, and I made my escape. I didn't know much- my only lead came from the fact that Gerard's voice had a hint of a Southern accent. Just a hint, really, like he wasn't from there but just lived there. So I did some research on communes down south. It's crazy. There are cults, utopias, hippie groups- you name it, it's got a commune down there. All under-the-table, of course. So here I am- oh, guess where I am. You'll never figure it out, I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frostproof&lt;/span&gt;. Frostproof, Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm here to investigate the One World group, a "government-intolerant" bunch of teens and ex-college students bent on transformation through passive resistance. Sounds peaceful enough, but you never know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going there at six for dinner and evening "discussion." I'll write tomorrow and report my findings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-4162555397323125034?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/4162555397323125034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=4162555397323125034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4162555397323125034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4162555397323125034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-now-from-middle-of-nowhere.html' title='And now, from the middle of nowhere...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2987899585467773015</id><published>2008-09-06T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:06:21.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revisions on a Plan</title><content type='html'>Once again Kirm, you've given me an idea that just might work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don't read the comments, Kirm is a wonderful person who gave me the blue hair idea. And she's struck again, critiquing my plans of escape. She suggests that I tell my parents Sylvia's taking me on a trip, and to ask for spending money and Dad's laptop to keep in touch. Luckily, Sylvia's going to Hawaii soon (she homeschools) with her biologist parents. And she's offered to take me several times. I'm going to call her and find out if she can convince her dad to take me- then he can convince my parents the trip is legit (and I'm getting volunteer hours for college!!) and I can back out the night before or something. Hopefully Mom &amp;amp; Dad will buy it... better talk to Sylvia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2987899585467773015?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2987899585467773015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2987899585467773015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2987899585467773015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2987899585467773015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/revisions-on-plan.html' title='Revisions on a Plan'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-6542529681107199947</id><published>2008-09-06T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T13:18:34.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Disappear Completely and Never be Found</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/foRYSVJaYK/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/foRYSVJaYK/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/rockmusic13/music/ZexEXrkB/children_183_time_and_wasted_bullets/"&gt;Time And Wasted Bullets - Children 18:3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to bring Sylvia into the loop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only a matter of time anyway, but it couldn't wait any longer. She was asking questions, and when Chris disappeared- well, that was the last straw. She knows everything now, right down to the peach smoothie. And she's helped me plan out what I'm going to do next, because I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; going after Gerard. He's paying for what he did, even if I have to chase him halfway across the country for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm setting out on his trail tomorrow- Sunday afternoon, to be exact. Seems fitting that I leave like Elaine- right in the middle of the day. I'm taking a knapsack of clothing and food, and all the money in my savings account ($700, but I don't know how long it'll last). My objective? Simple:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Find Gerard.&lt;br /&gt;Make him pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Stacie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-6542529681107199947?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/6542529681107199947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=6542529681107199947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6542529681107199947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/6542529681107199947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-to-disappear-completely-and-never.html' title='How to Disappear Completely and Never be Found'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2792201261729777588</id><published>2008-09-05T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T17:24:37.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barnes &amp; Noble: More than you could ever read...</title><content type='html'>Well, here I am. And there's Gerard, right on time. I'm using my dad's laptop again, and- oh, Chris's cueing me to come and talk with her. My name's "Juliet", by the way. Sort of like Julia from &lt;em&gt;1984&lt;/em&gt;, only more sophisticated (and definitely prettier).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. Ten minutes of conversation and I've only just managed to slip away. I'm sort of scared- Gerard's really &lt;em&gt;nice&lt;/em&gt;. Like, &lt;em&gt;decent.&lt;/em&gt; Not the sort of guy who'd spirit away your sister or seduce your friend. And he loves &lt;em&gt;1984&lt;/em&gt;. *sigh* If I didn't hate the dude so much, I'd fall in love with him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, more talk. Gerard's favorite movie is &lt;em&gt;Interview with the Vampire&lt;/em&gt; (I can see why Elaine loved him so much...) and he's a fan of theoretical Communism on a small scale. Like, gypsy camps and hippie communes. That makes me wonder- is that where Elaine is? Some sort of cult-y commune? I don't know. Oh, wait- they're beckoning me over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's ten minutes later, just to let you know. We've all got frappucinos from Starbucks, and Chris wants to go browsing for new vampire lit with Gerard. (It's &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; not her thing. She's a fantasy girl all the way. Probably just indulging him.) I'm going with them just to browse for myself. I've made Juliet a fan of Anne Rice, just to fit in with the moment. Luckily Elaine went through a Vampire Chronicles phase before Twilight. See you people soon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG.&lt;br /&gt;OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's happened again&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I just turned away for a few moments, browsing the back of a &lt;em&gt;Vampire Knight&lt;/em&gt; manga, and then I turned to ask Chris what she thought...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;em&gt;and she was gone&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Like, really gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Disappeared.&lt;/em&gt; Just like Elaine.&lt;br /&gt;I've searched the store and I can't find a trace of her other than an empty frappucino cup. Of course Gerard's scuttled by now. I don't know what to do, but I do know one thing for certain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I find him, I'm going to &lt;em&gt;kill&lt;/em&gt; him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2792201261729777588?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2792201261729777588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2792201261729777588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2792201261729777588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2792201261729777588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/barnes-noble-more-than-you-could-ever.html' title='Barnes &amp; Noble: More than you could ever read...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-7267321778968504662</id><published>2008-09-05T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T13:55:28.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Transformation Complete</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I am so fortunate to have theatre friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told Sylvia I needed to be transformed, and my friend the makeup artist (who, if you'll remember, is also responsible for this blog) said "I'll be right over!" and has succeeded in turning me into someone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first time wasn't important- Gerard hadn't ever seen me. But now, even the slightest mistake could be deadly. I'd done some work myself- borrowed a high-quality blue wig from our costume room, gotten a &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; good hairnet, and picked out my outfit- black shirt with white at the neckline, black skirt, and black tights with black shoes. I'm not dark or anything, I just like the color black and happen to have several articles of clothing of that color available for wear. I also bought a good pair of colored contacts for my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sylvia came and went to work with her army of makeup products (using clean applicators, of course- techie habit) and turned me into a different person. Want proof? Here's a couple of dolls of the situation that I whipped up afterwards:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242636948177834898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SMGWhxZ6U5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Xkek1UWiVZ4/s400/BeforeAfter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Her specialty is changing skin colors, which she mastered beautifully for our presentation of &lt;em&gt;Dracula&lt;/em&gt; a few years ago. We shot a trailer for the daily announcements, and we needed the vampires to be believable, so she stepped up to the plate.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I told her I had been hoping to make it more... well, &lt;em&gt;bright&lt;/em&gt;, but she laughed and said that now no one would ever know me. And I guess she's right...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chris and I meet in half an hour to go to Barnes &amp;amp; Noble. I'd better leave a note or something for Mom, just in case. I think I'll leave Gerard's note and Elaine's diary too, so she can see what's been happening and maybe she'll forgive me. On the other hand, if we can slip away without a problem, then I may just tell her anyway. See you in half an hour!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;~Stacie&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-7267321778968504662?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/7267321778968504662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=7267321778968504662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/7267321778968504662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/7267321778968504662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/transformation-complete.html' title='Transformation Complete'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SMGWhxZ6U5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Xkek1UWiVZ4/s72-c/BeforeAfter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-2792183465769884891</id><published>2008-09-04T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T19:07:33.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Catch a Kidnapper: Phase 2</title><content type='html'>(Oh yeah, the title is linked to a pretty sweet AMV. I'm not a fan of Princess Tutu, Sylvia is, but she got me hooked on this really well done vid. Watch it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've got it all planned out: Gerard will inevitably call tomorrow night, and Chris will arrange to meet him at Barnes &amp;amp; Noble. I'll go in disguise (cleverly suggested by a commenter on my last post- thanks Kirm!!) and pretend to have run into Chris at the store. I'll be a friend of Narcissa's. ^_^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She will arrange for me to join the conversation, and I'll get a chance to talk with Gerard and find out exactly what sort of person he is. It's risky, but there's always the chance I'll find out something important. Bye for now- I've got shopping to do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-2792183465769884891?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tHZqxecCukg' title='To Catch a Kidnapper: Phase 2'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/2792183465769884891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=2792183465769884891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2792183465769884891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/2792183465769884891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/09/to-catch-kidnapper-phase-2.html' title='To Catch a Kidnapper: Phase 2'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-1120239907844428798</id><published>2008-08-30T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T20:01:13.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Liar, Liar, Tripps on Fire</title><content type='html'>I'm back at home now, safe and sound- and away from Gerard. But not for long. They've got another meeting soon, and I'll have to wear a wig and some makeup to disguise myself this time. I almost feel like Sidney Bristow from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alias&lt;/span&gt;, but it's kind of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got out of the food court quick and went to the only place we could think of- Hot Topic. See, Chris explained that she told Gerard her mother was coming, and he got out of there "like he was Snape and I just said 'shampoo'". We couldn't risk him doubling back, though, so we hid in Hot Topic. The clerk did ask us why we were there, but I improv-ed up some story about a freaky ex-boyfriend who was abusing Chris. She said we could hide in the store as long as we needed to. Yes, I'm a liar, but I'm a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;living&lt;/span&gt; liar. So it all pays off. I just hope God won't zap me yet. After all, I still need to find Elaine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris told me that Gerard just wanted to keep meeting at the food court for now.&lt;br /&gt;"He talked about the commune where he lives." she said. "I think he wants me to join eventually."&lt;br /&gt;"If you do, I'll kill you." I said. "Better yet, I'll rescue you."&lt;br /&gt;She smiled. "You do that."&lt;br /&gt;We got out of there pretty fast after that, but I did set up another mall date for next Saturday. I'll write soon as I get any news, or when I pick out another character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-1120239907844428798?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/1120239907844428798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=1120239907844428798' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1120239907844428798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1120239907844428798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/liar-liar-tripps-on-fire.html' title='Liar, Liar, Tripps on Fire'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-5570260133176773416</id><published>2008-08-30T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T19:49:21.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live from the Castleton Food Court...</title><content type='html'>Hey all, it's Stacie. I'm sitting in the Castleton Mall food court, waiting for Gerard. I've been here for an hour, with only a Hot Topic shopping bag and my dad's laptop for company. Chris is about ten tables over, and she's looking for Gerard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked out my disguise last night, and I absolutely LOVE it!! It's sort of Army/punk, I got the idea off a dolling website. I wore this really tight olive-green top over a long-sleeved black shirt, with a camo miniskirt, fishnets, and a pair of lace-up boots from Goodwill. The final touch was a black cap, and I wore my hair in a messy bun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, wait- OMG. Chris just saw this guy walk in, and he's holding a book that looks like it might be 1984. She's getting up, she's walking towards him- they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;talking.&lt;/span&gt; Just chatting really. I think I'll go buy a smoothie and try to listen in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back. They're just chatting right now, but Chris met my eyes briefly and I think she'll try to get to a table where I can overhear. She just moved into the line for Subway, but Gerard's not getting anything. On another topic, the smoothie is really good- peach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, they're moving to a table near me... no such luck. Gerard's going over to this corner on the other side of the room. If you've never seen the Castleton food court before (and chances are you probably haven't), there are lines for different food places on two walls, with Galyan's on the other side and then a hallway to access the main mall. In the middle is this play area for little kids, and Gerard's just moved to the other side. I can't see him anymore, and Chris just followed. Time for a bit of espionage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back again, people. I snuck around the kiddie area, crossed my arms, put on my best emo face, and slouched across the food court to greet Chris and Gerard. Chris was certainly surprised.&lt;br /&gt;"Narcissa!" she cried. I cringed mentally. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh, crap.&lt;/span&gt; Of course, the first thing that would pop into her head was Bellatrix- thankfully &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; name was taken.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey." I said in my best angsty-depressed-teenager voice. "'Sup?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm just talking with my friend Gerard." she said. "Gerard, this is Narcissa."&lt;br /&gt;Gerard extended his hand. "Narcissa...?"&lt;br /&gt;"Mal- Maltran!" I cried. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh dear Lord, I almost said Malfoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled. "Lovely to meet you. And how do you know Christina?"&lt;br /&gt;"We go to school together." I said flatly, then turned to Chris. "Umm, so are you two, like, a couple?"&lt;br /&gt;"No!" said Chris.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!" said Gerard at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!" agreed Chris a second later.&lt;br /&gt;I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a casual manner. "Whatev. I'll be at Hot Topic if you need me, Tina."&lt;br /&gt;I never called Chris "Tina". Ever. But I guess "Narcissa" would. So here I am, drinking a smoothie and trying to catch a glimpse of my best friend in case the kidnapper lives up to his name. I think I'll send her a text, she said after ten minutes to get her out of there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's done- I texted her "Your ten minutes are up." And here she comes. I'll fill you in on how we got out of this later, but now we need to escape before Gerard changes his mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-5570260133176773416?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/5570260133176773416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=5570260133176773416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5570260133176773416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5570260133176773416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/live-from-castleton-food-court.html' title='Live from the Castleton Food Court...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-1148093059460489883</id><published>2008-08-28T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T19:01:34.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>one... more... day...</title><content type='html'>It's decided: I'll be seeing Gerard on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why have I not written? Simple: life goes on, even when your sister is missing. I've had homework (stupid physics!) and Mom's not been sleeping (neither has Dad, but he hides it well) because of Elaine. I hate her in those moments, hate her for making us suffer. After all, I'm the one risking my butt to see Gerard incognito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what I'm gonna wear- probably something crazy or emo. After all, it's supposed to be different then me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be sure to write Saturday night, but now I've got to go to bed. It's pretty late in Westfield.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-1148093059460489883?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/1148093059460489883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=1148093059460489883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1148093059460489883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1148093059460489883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/one-more-day.html' title='one... more... day...'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-7275329335633901788</id><published>2008-08-23T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T18:25:26.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trapping the Kidnapper</title><content type='html'>Chris, I love you. You're brave, smart, and your flair for the dramatic astounds me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Gerard called promptly at eight. I set up a tape recorder to capture his voice, so I'd be prepared for the police. We both huddled around the phone, which was on speaker, and I tried not to yell as my best friend talked to a kidnapper. Here's how it went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: Hey Chris, how are you?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: (grimacing) I'm... okay. You?&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: Missing you.&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Really? That's...erm, sweet.&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: Sweet but true, my dear. When are you going to see me?&lt;br /&gt;(By this point I was feeling sick. Had he seduced my sister just like this?)&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Umm... uh, not soon.&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: (clearly upset) What?&lt;br /&gt;Chris:(Improvising and very freaked out) That's right! Not soon. I'm, uhh... mourning the death of my sister... in law! Sister-in-law!&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: You're... married? (He pronounced the last word like it was some kind of disease) Aren't you a little... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;young&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Um, uh- it's not me! It's my brother! My older brother. (she sighs with relief and collects herself) He just lost his wife of two years to... a brain aneurysm. (she didn't sound very convincing. I winced.)&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: (not convinced) I see. What was her name?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Umm... (her eyes flew around the room, settling on her computer with the Bellatrix Lestrange wallpaper. She's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;crazy&lt;/span&gt; about Bellatrix for some reason.)...it was Bella! Bella Black. (It was our luck that Chris's last name &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; Black. I just hoped Gerard wasn't a Harry Potter fan.)&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: Oh! (he sounded convinced, and at least faking sorrow) I'm sorry, Chris. When is the funeral?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: That's too bad. Next weekend, perhaps?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: (breathing hard and very scared) Perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: I'll be at the Castleton mall, in the food court, and I'll be reading a copy of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1984.&lt;/span&gt; (I glared. It's one of my favorite books.)&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Okay... um, bye!&lt;br /&gt;Gerard: Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;(He hung up, but I didn't turn the tape recorder off. I figured we'd want a record of our plan, if we developed one.)&lt;br /&gt;Me: That was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;genius,&lt;/span&gt; Chris! (I high-fived her) You rock!&lt;br /&gt;Chris: (laughs) I try, Stacie. But now, what do we do?&lt;br /&gt;Me: We can't go to the police. We don't have evidence that he did it.&lt;br /&gt;Chris: You have that note-&lt;br /&gt;Me: But who's to say it's the same Gerard?&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Good point, I guess. Hey! Why don't I go meet him?&lt;br /&gt;Me: WHAT?!&lt;br /&gt;Chris: I'll meet him, and you'll be in disguise watching us! If he makes a move toward me, I'll signal you or something, and you can pretend to be someone else who knows me from school!&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't know, it sounds really risky...&lt;br /&gt;Chris: Come on, what have we got to lose? It's a public place, it's not like he can just grab me and make off. And there are security guards everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;Me: (I sigh) Fine. We'll do it. Now let's do something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fun&lt;/span&gt; while we still can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there you have it- our plans for trapping Gerard. I don't know what we'll do when we see him, I guess this meeting's just a "get-to-know-you" kind of thing. But seriously Chris, I am in awe of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-7275329335633901788?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/7275329335633901788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=7275329335633901788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/7275329335633901788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/7275329335633901788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/trapping-kidnapper.html' title='Trapping the Kidnapper'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-13211363702788840</id><published>2008-08-22T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T14:46:23.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Evidence</title><content type='html'>I said I wouldn't write until I'd made a decision, but this is important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at lunch, Chris (my closest friend) told us that she'd been getting weird calls on her cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He calls at like 9 every night, and he says that he saw my deviantArt account and he wants to go out with me." she said. I asked how he'd traced her account to her (DA requires a screen name, and Chris hadn't given out any personal information), and she said she didn't know. Then, my friend John asked her what his name was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's Gerard." she said. "Like from MCR." My Chemical Romance is her favorite band, and Elaine's too. But this didn't stop me from freaking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT?" (That's me, with my jaw hanging open.)&lt;br /&gt;"I said his name's Gerard."&lt;br /&gt;"Chris, don't go to meet him."&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me funny. "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Because," I said, "he's the one who kidnapped my sister." I explained about the diary and showed her Gerard's note (I've been keeping it in my hoodie pocket for safety). She was freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;"You mean, she disappeared? Like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; disappeared?"&lt;br /&gt;I nodded. "Don't meet him, Chris."&lt;br /&gt;She nodded back. "I won't. He sounds dangerous."&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, the bell rang, and I didn't see Chris for the rest of the day. But she called me after school, and I'm going to her house for dinner (and to listen in on Gerard's call). I'll post what happens as soon as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-13211363702788840?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/13211363702788840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=13211363702788840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/13211363702788840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/13211363702788840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-evidence.html' title='New Evidence'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-8376848674753936834</id><published>2008-08-21T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T14:35:48.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Decisions, Decisions</title><content type='html'>Did some research today in the library at school during lunch. Couldn't find anything about a Gerard D., but I did find records of other weird disappearances online. Like there was this Eskimo village in 1930, and all the people disappeared. That's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2,000 people&lt;/span&gt; just up and gone. Not that it helps me much, (most of this stuff is more paranormal than I need) but at least there are other occurrences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a couple of interesting things from Vermont- an 18-year old student disappearing while hiking and an 8-year-old vanishing off his parents' farm- but they all happened from 1920 to 1950. &lt;a href="http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/history_bizarre_mysterious/118527"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is where I found records of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure what to think of Elaine- I guess most people would say to call the police and report the note and her disappearance, but I can't do it. Part of me desperately wants to get her back (and quickly, too!) but something makes me wonder that there might be more to this than meets the eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved to abductions and found some seriously creepy stuff, like &lt;a href="http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2003/07/04/1057179154768.html?"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; story of Eloise Worledge, a little girl from Australia who was kidnapped in the middle of the night. I'd tend to lean more towards something like this happening, but clearly Elaine left of her own free will (Elaine? Eloise? Anybody else a little creeped at that?) and she wasn't snatched from her bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do I do? Do I (a. take the note, diary, and security tape to the police and ask for their help [which Mom and Dad have yet to do for some reason, probably Dad's distrust of the police chief] or (b. strike out on my own, armed with the evidence and a desire for truth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll think it over, maybe bring some friends into my plans. I'll write once I've reached a decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-8376848674753936834?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/8376848674753936834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=8376848674753936834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8376848674753936834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8376848674753936834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/decisions-decisions.html' title='Decisions, Decisions'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-1011629554338520250</id><published>2008-08-20T18:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T19:09:17.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Very Secret Diary</title><content type='html'>Well, I did it. The one thing no self-respecting sibling is ever &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; EVER supposed to do. And I did it for Elaine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it, you may ask? What is this horrible crime? Simple: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I read her diary.&lt;/span&gt; Not just any diary, either. Normal people have diaries. Elaine has a VERY SECRET DIARY with a computerized voice-recognition lock. Luckily, I can imitate her real well. And her password was easy, too- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Edward&lt;/span&gt;. What else from my crazy sister?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skipped past her first entries documenting her seventh-grade year, flipped through the random sketches of Edward and other people she's had crushes on. I don't know what I was lookign for- maybe a plan. Or a note. Or anything that gave her a reason to run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I was looking for, but I found it. It was tucked between a sketch of Edward and herself kissing and a brief outline of the coming week- a short note, only a few words long: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Meet me tomorrow. Come alone. G.D.&lt;/span&gt; I glanced at the outline of the week- this week. And on Sunday, the words &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Meet Gerard at 4. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the other days were blank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shut the diary and replaced it on her shelf, taking the note with me. I can't tell Mom or Dad- they'd flip. Probably call the police, and then Elaine might never come back. So in the end, my heinous crime didn't really accomplish much. I got one answer, but with it comes two new questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Who the heck is Gerard?&lt;br /&gt;2. What did he do with my sister?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-1011629554338520250?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/1011629554338520250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=1011629554338520250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1011629554338520250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/1011629554338520250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/very-secret-diary.html' title='The Very Secret Diary'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-4225327575757863334</id><published>2008-08-17T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T17:45:36.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still not funny</title><content type='html'>Elaine's not back yet. It's like 8 p.m. here. Mom and Dad are getting worried. I just wish she'd come home, I'm sure they'd un-ground her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-4225327575757863334?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/4225327575757863334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=4225327575757863334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4225327575757863334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/4225327575757863334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/still-not-funny.html' title='Still not funny'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-3256635222834225791</id><published>2008-08-17T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T14:26:50.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Completely un-funny</title><content type='html'>I have to give the kid credit, she's got guts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who, you ask? Why, Elaine, the world's biggest Cullen addict. She's gone. Ran away. I found out when I went to tell her to come get her clean laundry and found her room empty. Mom checked the cam from outside her window and found out she ran away a little after lunch. I don't get it, but that's Elaine for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elaine, if you're at Lindsay's or Delaney's and you're reading this, we aren't laughing. Not at all. This isn't funny. Come home NOW or Mom's gonna flip and we'll be stuck inside this house 'til we graduate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, people. Just had to take the chance. Of course, we called Lindsay and Delaney, but they claimed she "wasn't there." Not that I believe them. They'd lie for Elaine any day. We actually tried going out and looking for her, but she's nowhere to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one of you people out there have any idea where she is, please please &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;please&lt;/span&gt; tell me. I don't care if it's a crazy half-baked idea, or where your little sister hid when she got busted for dating the wrong kind of guy, just tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I'm worried or anything. Not yet, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-3256635222834225791?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/3256635222834225791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=3256635222834225791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3256635222834225791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/3256635222834225791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/completely-un-funny.html' title='Completely un-funny'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-8911811101549738025</id><published>2008-08-17T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T09:42:31.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Knight RULES!!</title><content type='html'>As I've said before, I love love LOVE &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Dark Knight&lt;/span&gt;. Why? One word: Heath Ledger. He's the best Joker &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever.&lt;/span&gt; Scary, but true. (The dude even messed with my nightmares)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen it nine times (beating my previous record of five for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Batman Begins&lt;/span&gt;), and it gets better every time. When I'm not watching it, I'm vidding footage from trailers to Children 18:3 songs. My best one is All My Balloons. I'll post it here sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah- Elaine's threatened to run away again. Says she's got friends who'll take care of her. It's just because she got grounded for sneaking out to go to a party. Heck, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;did that, but I finally gave up 'cause Mom kept catching me (Note to all would-be rebels: Check for security cams outside your windows). She'll get over it, but she's pretty mad as of right now. Probably writing fanfics in which Edward comes to rescue her and Mom and Dad get killed by the Volturi. Not much I can do about that, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that I post something under a title that eventually has nothing to do with the post itself? I don't know... just something I do, I guess. So much for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time!&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-8911811101549738025?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/8911811101549738025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=8911811101549738025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8911811101549738025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8911811101549738025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/dark-knight-rules.html' title='The Dark Knight RULES!!'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-8167422441529557236</id><published>2008-08-16T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T14:34:57.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Techie Woes</title><content type='html'>Tech hasn't started yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate &lt;/span&gt;that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, you ask? It's because my whole school life is built around theatre, and when there's no theatre, Stacie's not a happy girl. I tried alleviating the pain by reading reviews of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Dark Knight &lt;/span&gt;(which, by the way, is awesome), but it didn't work. So I read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New Moon&lt;/span&gt; instead, bringing us to a whole new subject: Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love, love, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;Twilight. And its sequels. I haven't got &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Breaking Dawn&lt;/span&gt; yet (but it's in the mail from Amazon!!), and I can't wait to find out what happens. But not because of Edward. Oh no. Not that I hate him, but I'm not in love with him like the rest of teen girl America. I think he's cool, but something about him seems too... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt;, I guess. I prefer my crushes flawed. Like Erik (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phantom of the Opera&lt;/span&gt;)- a good heart but in need of some rescuing. Edward's just too good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elaine doesn't agree- she's in the midst of a major Cullen obsession, and it's all Mom &amp;amp; Dad can do to keep her from running away to find them in Washington. She &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;says&lt;/span&gt; she's perfectly aware that vampires aren't real- or compliant with our Christian faith- but I think she wants to believe that our parents are the crazy ones. Once, she threatened to run away in search of Edward, with only her sketchbook to keep her company. She later said she was joking, but I wonder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah- sketchbook. Elaine's a budding manga artist, and her skills are perfectly suited for sketching Edward night and day. I used to admire her drawings and help her color them, but I got bored of Edward all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phantom&lt;/span&gt;, our choir is doing a medley from the show, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; singing Christine in the "Think of Me" part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess I better go. Not much to do on a Saturday like this one, but dinner's almost ready and my stomach's demanding food... see ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-8167422441529557236?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/8167422441529557236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=8167422441529557236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8167422441529557236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/8167422441529557236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/techie-woes.html' title='Techie Woes'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-5941761930475150297</id><published>2008-08-14T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T19:02:54.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello again</title><content type='html'>I'm back, and I have one thing to say: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ugh.&lt;/span&gt; I love my sister, but she's really a pain so much of the time. The little creep thought &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'd&lt;/span&gt; stolen her stupid camera. Oh well. I finally managed to find the thing and extricate it from under a huge pile of dirty laundry. (And when I say huge, I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;huge.&lt;/span&gt; Both my parents work, so we're lucky if laundry gets done once a month. It all just accumulates in the basement and forms this mountain range of soiled clothing.) She owes me five dollars- I bet her I'd find it- and now we don't hate each other as much as we used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about 9:50 at night (I know the blog time is different, haven't set the stupid thing to eastern time yet), and I'm full of thoughts. Don't know why. Maybe actually having a place to put them is what does it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An idea occurred to me whilst I was buried beneath Mt. Apparel: why not hire myself out as a laundress? I know enough about the chore from assisting in our monthly basement cleanout, and I'm a pretty fast sorter. You know, lights &amp;amp; darks and that sort of thing. I'd probably be  world-famous if I practiced weekly. Or maybe I'd start a reality show: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So You Think You Can Sort&lt;/span&gt;. Contestants would have to navigate a pile of clothing, and they'd be timed. Whoever did it the fastest would win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On second thought, that's stupid. Nobody'd watch it at all. Or maybe they would, but it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;urgh... I'm getting tired. See you people tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-5941761930475150297?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/5941761930475150297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=5941761930475150297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5941761930475150297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/5941761930475150297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/hello-again.html' title='Hello again'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1051678264993627663.post-892001420097969956</id><published>2008-08-14T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T17:59:52.717-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stacie'/><title type='text'>Hey, I'm Stacie!!</title><content type='html'>Hello people, I'm Stacie!! I'm kind of nervous (this is my first blog), and I really don't know what to write. Do I journal? Post art? I've got no clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might as well tell you about getting this blog. (I didn't really want it) It was my friend Sylvia's idea of a joke. She always talks about how I'm so lo-tech because I don't have an iPod, and I'm always like, "what? I have an mp3 player, and it plays music!" But she wanted me to have this, so I'm writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you people out there want to know about me? Not much to tell, let's see now... Oh yeah! I'm from the U.S.A., but I'm not rich or spoiled or anything like that. We're sort of poor (which is why I'm iPod-less) as people in Westfield, Indiana go, but I don't care. I get new clothes when I need them, and we're never hungry, so count your blessings, right? Am I rambling? Oh, gosh, I'm so bad at this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I live in Westfield with my two parents and my younger sister Elaine. She's not really younger, except by ten months, but I still lord it over her:) I go to school at Westfield High and am a Thespian (that's drama club). I'm a sophomore of fifteen years. Anything else you're dying to know...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, got to go. Elaine's bugging me about the loss of her camera. Not just any camera, her photography class camera she bought with her own money. So I've got to sign off. But I'll be back on later hopefully. (It's almost exciting, having a blog).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;br /&gt;~Stacie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1051678264993627663-892001420097969956?l=chippedveneers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/feeds/892001420097969956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1051678264993627663&amp;postID=892001420097969956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/892001420097969956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1051678264993627663/posts/default/892001420097969956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chippedveneers.blogspot.com/2008/08/hey-im-stacie.html' title='Hey, I&apos;m Stacie!!'/><author><name>Stacie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14853038315645813389</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_J7NaAZusY/SQHj-9YDV-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/xkb_mXX-_9E/S220/Stacie.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
