Virtual Reality.

Have you ever wanted a double life? a place to escape from the harsh thing known as reality? Well Habbo.com is that for me. Habbo is a virtual world were for  most cases is a role play "rp" website. Therefore you have almost a new identity, formed to how you desire. That identity can attain what you dream to. This below is my character, Mandy. I hope you enjoy her brief biography :)

Ps. I got bored, hence the random facts. Lol

Amanda "Mandy" Alice Peterson

DOB- May 27
Age-27
EC- Brown
HC-Scarlett
Height- 5"6
Allergies- onions.
RS-Taken, and Expecting (:
Blood Type- A-
Favorite;
Color- Green
Movie- Alice in Wonderland
Book- Harry Potter Series
Animal- Llama
Her worst fear(s)- Bugs. or Anything that involves bugs, or looks like one. Being secluded.
Hobby- Messing with noobs, and tasing people :)
Pet Peeve- Noobs. :)
Disliked quality- Talks too much.
Liked quality- decorating skills.
Traits- Very laughable, gets down from time to time, attempts to see the good in everyone, worrier, not a partier, loves to read, loves animals.

Brief Biography-
   Mandy Was Born to Alice Barlow In Paris, The heart of France many years ago on May 27 (Father Unknown). Alice was 16 at the time and decided it would be best to give her up for adoption, in hopes of a better life. Since their depart Mandy has not seen or heard from her mother. All she knows is what was in her file at the orphanage.
   Mandy was then adopted at the age of two by Matthew Peterson, A star wars obsessed Canadian.She had one one adoptive brother, Brian, whom later grew up to be married, then widowed, left to raise his daughter, Meghan. Mandy then lived most of her life in Quebec with her adoptive family. Most weekends were spent Building forts with Brian, watching star wars, and playing with her pet inguana, Chuckie. Minus the weekend were they discovered she was allergic to onions, which was spent in the Hospital after her throat swelled up from the consumption of onion rings at a birthday party.
    Then around the beginning of the lovely teen years is when she began to focus on other things. she began painting and sketching while attending a local High school, after she graduated she then decided to explore her options, and after much thought and consideration, she decided to go into the medical feild.
  She then packed up her bags and set off for Middlesbrough, UK, after hearing of James Cook University Hospital, Where she Became a student doctor. Since then she has surpassed her roles as F1-2 and is currently The Clinical Lead Of Trauma. Friendships were easy to attain at JCUH, and Now days Mandy spends her off hours in the company of close friends, redecorating her home, and annoying noobs.

 And that my friends is a brief history of Mandy A. Peterson. :)

Chitter Chatter

I have come to a conclusion that I talk too much. It seems I can never stop. I have tried not talking but I usually fail and burst out talking away with any random news I can think of. I am constantly being told to be quiet and that a -insert loud object here- is quieter then me. When I wisper. Personally I don't think I am thaaaat loud/talkative. I just have lots to say :) and who says I can't talk? God gave me a mouth for a reason! Why not use it? But I think I talk much more then half the people I know. Well maybe not in class, or at a party, but when it comes to texting/Instant messaging/ and email. That's when I tend to get the chattiest. My theory is, your my friend, why shouldn't I say hello? But I believe I say hello to the point where people are getting annoyed... Anyway, I talk too much. So as of now, I will try to maintain one day of silence. I won't say hello, until you say hi fist. You honestly don't think I was planning on NOT talking!? That would be crazy talk. This way, you can choose If you wish to talk to me :) This Day Starts Now.

Why Is A Raven Like A Writing Desk?

I just watched the movie Alice in wonderland, and I couldn't help but wonder, Why is a raven like a writing desk? This is something the mad hatter asks Alice quite a bit, and the answer to this quirky riddle was never given :( I tried googling it, but no luck! now I cannot get it out of my mind! This is going to bug me until I figure it out. So I ask of you all a favor, get your best idea of why a raven is like a writing desk, and leave it in a comment below :) Much appreciated!

Pointless post

The world has a weird way of working things. I just had the worst week of my life, but now? i have had one of the BEST weekends  in a looooong time. :) now to finish up my duck tape dress, and blast pandora. :) The day is mine and i shall make the best of it <3

Another Lame Post

Well this is a crappy week so far, and it's only Wednesday! oh joy. So far this week a "friend" of mine decided to alert me I'm gay via writing it ALL OVER my math assignment, my friends have been abandoning me one by one, I was tormented to the point of tears twice today alone, and thats just the start. I feel lost, confused, angered, despair, and yet I feel hope. as if help is on the way. I await it's arrival everyday with eager hands. 

on the plus side of things, next week is spirit week. aka, a week packed with crazy dress up days to build school pride. Monday Is duct tape day and I am making a sweet dress :) Tuesday, Crazy hair day, Wednesday, Pj day, and Thursday, School Pride. Which will be all a lie because i lack pride for the school that has caused so many tears.

Chapter One!

Chapter 1- One of a Kind.

          It was an early Saturday morning, well for me it was, for the rest of the world, noon. I’m Penny; I am unique, one of a kind, and a loner. What you are reading is a personal glimpse of my life before I become famous, which will happen, someday.

As for now, I am just an ordinary 14 year old trapped in the zoo called junior high, where everyone is like howler monkeys and buzzing bees. The noise in the hall is yet to cease. The bulling and teasing has become like biting your nails, you don’t notice it after time.

I somehow manage to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and change into some clothes. I look around my room that looks as if a tornado had literally just gone through it. Empty bowls and cups lying around, clothes all over the floor, and my walls coated with poems and paintings. I shut the door and walk down the stairs, into the bright sun filled kitchen. As always, I look to the ugly little wood carved family key hanger my gram got at a garage sale and was “Just the cutest little thing!” to see if the keys to the rusty old slug bug where there, they weren’t. This meant one thing, Gram was out rummage sailing.

 It’s what she does every Saturday ever since I came to stay with her when my parents drowned on a sinking ship. I remember the last time I saw them too. I was five and they were all excited for this trip my mum won from work, a cruise around the world. They kissed me goodbye and left me for a couple weeks with gram. “We will be back before you know it squirt!” my dad said before they left “you won’t even realize we’re gone!”                                      

“be good now!” my mum called out, “don’t cause trouble!, love you!” then she gave a me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. That’s the last I saw of them, and ever since I have lived with gram. To be honest, I think there is more to the story then what gram told me, but there is no getting something out of her if she doesn’t want you to know.

I took this alone time to pour myself a glass of apple juice and pop a couple waffles in the toaster. As I waited I walked into the living room, and began to read the newspaper. Newspaper headlines fascinate me, how the writer can take the dullest of news, and make it sound intresting by a clever title. “Rampage at Local Minimart” could really be, some guy was wasted and caused a small scene. Not that interesting, right? But the title makes you want to read it! I just finished the currents section when the I heard the toaster ding, I got up, got my waffles, and headed back to read the rest of the paper.

Around three o’clock Gram came home, told me to comb my hair, then went upstairs to take a nap. So I headed up the creaky old stairs and rummaged through my room for my hairbrush, after a brushed my hair and as I was just about to press play on my CD player the doorbell rang. So I tossed aside the CD case I was holding and ran down the stairs. There I found my best friend Eliza sitting in the tree in the front yard, hair in braids, mismatched knee highs, and overalls. She then sees me standing there and jumps down from the tree, runs up to the porch and hugs me.

“Boy do I got news for you!” she said, her eyes filled with delight.

“What?” I question, “It’s not bad is it?”

She lets out a laugh “Well for Nellie it is, for me? Its AMAZING news!” I can tell she is excited by the way she is smiling at me with her big grin,

“Oh! Do tell!” I ask, eager to hear the news she is so happy about

“Well, you know the spring production?” she says “you know, the one with the biker dude and the beach girl?”

“you mean grease?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“so? Spill!”

“well a few weeks ago I auditioned for that French chick and…”

I butted in before she could finish, “You got the part??” I didn’t even have to wait for her to answer, her face said it all, the big grin, her eyes bursting with excitement “Congrats!”

“Thanks” she says, she then takes her hand and shoves it into her pocket, rummaging around for something. She then pulls out a deck of cards, looks to me, and asks ”Kings Corner?”

“Sure, but be prepared for defeat!” Even though we both know she is going to win, she always wins. I’m just not as observant as she is. She notices EVERYTHING, as I wouldn’t notice if someone dumped a bucket of water on my head. At least that’s what gram says. We play a few games, me almost beating her on the last one, when we decide to go make some supper. Its about six o’clock now and we take three hot pockets from the fridge, one for me, one for Eliza, and one for gram who just woke up and was reading the paper.

“Hello Eliza” says Gram “care for a souvenir?” I will never get gram. She takes so much pride in what she gets rummage sailing, yet can’t miss a beat to give it away. Probably for the best though, if she didn’t give it away I think she would be classified as a hoarder. Anyway, like usual Eliza takes grams gift, this time a mismatched set of potholders with a roster on the one, and a flower on the other.

“Thanks!” Eliza calls out as we head into the living room. We are sitting on the couch watching television when she begins with random questions. Eliza is very random. You never know whats going to slip out of her mouth, even if its not the time or the place, she says what she feels.

          “Why are they called hotpockets, when the most certainly are not pockets?” she wondered aloud.

          “I think its because of the little slip it goes in” I tell her “doesn’t it look like a pocket?”

          Eliza then stared at her hot pocket in her hand for a few moments and then nodded her head, “I believe you are right Penny.”

          We then played a few games of kings corner, and by the time we got done with the last game, it was about eight o’clock. “Well. I better get going if I don’t want to be mugged by a stranger.” Eliza said, peering out of a window. See, that’s a perfect example, she just lets things slip. Eliza then jumped over the couch, slipped on her green converse with the bugs bunny laces, said goodbye and told me not to eat rat poison, gave me a hug and skipped down the sidewalk without another word.

          I then decided to call it a night, so I showered and grabbed my book. Its about the billionth time I have read Tuck Everlasting, but I love the book and will continue to read it until the binding falls off. Which looks like it could happen any day now seeing I have read it so many times and it was already beat up when gram picked it up at a garage sale. Taking the sheets of my bed, and carefully sliding into them I pick up my book and read.

          The next thing I know, its morning and the smell of French toast fills the house. It’s the only time gram cooks, Sunday morning French toast brunch. I then look toward my clock which tells me its about ten o’clock. So I get out of bed, get dressed, and head downstairs to find Gram at the stove, and pile of toast to her right. “Morning Gram” I mumble, grabbing myself a plate

          “Morning Penny” She replies, as she turns of the stove and takes a seat next to me, she then looks at me, as if wanting approval on her breakfast,

          “Its really good! Best batch yet!” I encourage, but I lied, because to be honest Gram is not meant to cook. She tends to either leave things halfway raw, like today’s French toast or burn them to a crisp. I can never tell her that of course, it would break her heart.  So I lie as always, and the look of joy on her face is well worth it.








Let me know what you think of it! looking for all the tips i can get!