Wimpy Sayings And Quotes

Except fang. I glared at him. "Go on, try to stop me, I dare you." It was like the old days when we used to wrestle, each trying to get the better of the other. I was ready to take him down, my hands curled into fist. "I was just going to say be careful," Fang told me. He stepped closer and brushed some hair out of my eyes. "And I've got your back." He motioned with his head toward the torpedo chamber. Oh my God. It hit me like a tsunami then, how perfect he was for me, how no one else would ever, could ever, be so perfect for me, how he was everything I could possibly hope for, as a friend, boyfriend, maybe even more. He was it for me. There would be no more looking. I really, really loved him, with a whole new kind of love I'd never felt before, something that made every other kind of love I'd ever felt feel washed out and wimpy in comparison. I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breathe in my lungs. and air sacs. Too bad I was going out to face almost certain death. Right there in front of everyone, I threw my arms around his neck and smashed my mouth against his. He was startled for a second, then his strong arms wrapped around me so tightly I could hardly breathe. "ZOMG," I heard Nudge whisper, but still fang and I kissed slanting our heads this way and that to get closer. I could have stood there and kissed him happily for the next millennium, but Angel, or what was left of her was still out there in the could dark ocean. Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, took a step back. Fang's obsidian eyes were glittering brightly and his stoic face had a look of wonder on it."Gotta go," I said quietly. A half smile quirked his mouth. "Yeah. Hurry back." I nodded and he stepped out of the air lock chamber, keeping his eyes fixed on me, memorizing me as he hit the switch that sealed the chamber. The doors hissed shut with a kind of finality, and I realized that my heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to start snapping ribs. I was scared. I was crazily, deeply, incredibly, joyously, terrifyingly in love. I was on a death mission. Before my head simply exploded from so much emotion, I hit the large button that pressurized the air lock enough for the doors to open to the ocean outside. I really, really hoped that I would prove somewhat uncrushable, like Angel did. The door cracked open below me and I saw the first dark glint of frigid water.

Mom is always saying I'm a smart kid, but that I just don't apply myself.

Greg starts a middle school and asks: Why is "bullies" such a big PROBLEM? And says people need to shave twice a day.

When God creates Eve, he calls her an ezer kenegdo. 'It is not good for the man to be alone, I shall make him [an ezer kenegdo]' (Gen. 2:18 Alter). Hebrew scholar Robert Alter, who has spent years translating the book of Genesis, says that this phrase is 'notoriously difficult to translate.' The various attempts we have in English are "helper" or "companion" or the notorious "help meet." Why are these translations so incredibly wimpy, boring, flat...disappointing? What is a help meet, anyway? What little girl dances through the house singing "One day I shall be a help meet?" Companion? A dog can be a companion. Helper? Sounds like Hamburger Helper. Alter is getting close when he translates it "sustainer beside him" The word ezer is used only twenty other places in the entire Old Testament. And in every other instance the person being described is God himself, when you need him to come through for you desperately.

Let me just say for the record that I think middle school is the dumbest idea ever invented. You got kids like me who haven't hit growth spurt yet mixed in with these gorillas who need to shave twice a day.

Rodrick’s punishment was that he had to answer a bunch of questions Mom wrote out for him. Did owning this magazine make you a better person? No. Did it make you more popular at school? No. How do you feel about having owned this type of magazine now? I feel ashamed. Do you have anything you want to say to women for having owned this offensive magazine? I’m sorry women.

Mom always says I need to spend less time on the couch and more time being active. But the way I see it. I'm just conserving my energy for later on. When all my friends are in their eighties and their bodies are broken down, I'll just be getting started.

Call it the Human Mission-to be all and do all God sent us here to do. And notice-the mission to be fruitful and conquer and hold sway is given both to Adam and to Eve. 'And God said to them...' Eve is standing right there when God gives the world over to us. She has a vital role to play; she is a partner in this great adventure. All that human beings were intended to do here on earth-all the creativity and exploration, all the battle and rescue and nurture-we were intended to do together. In fact, not only is Eve needed, but she is desperately needed. When God creates Eve, he calls her an ezer kenegdo. 'It is not good for the man to be alone, I shall make him [an ezer kenegdo]' (Gen. 2:18 Alter). Hebrew scholar Robert Alter, who has spent years translating the book of Genesis, says that this phrase is 'notoriously difficult to translate.' The various attempts we have in English are "helper" or "companion" or the notorious "help meet." Why are these translations so incredibly wimpy, boring, flat...disappointing? What is a help meet, anyway? What little girl dances through the house singing "One day I shall be a help meet?" Companion? A dog can be a companion. Helper? Sounds like Hamburger Helper. Alter is getting close when he translates it "sustainer beside him" The word ezer is used only twenty other places in the entire Old Testament. And in every other instance the person being described is God himself, when you need him to come through for you desperately.

Actually, it reminded me of Tony Stark’s house in one of my favorite movies, Iron Man. I guess you could say it’s a MARVEL-ous mansion! (Heh, heh.)

(By the way, I’m pretty sure Moo thinks I’ve lost my marbles. Or should I say blocks?)

My dad's always saying you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your own family.

Some day, the mayor's gonna be saying something like: "You? A noob? Did I really say something so foolish? No, I always knew you were going to be the best, Sir Runt! Please forgive me, sir! Let me polish your sword for you!

Nice Guys are wimps. This may not sound like a nice thing to say, but it's true. Nice Guys tend to be wimpy victims because their life paradigm and childhood survival mechanisms require them to sacrifice their personal power.

You know how my first few minutes in a new Minecraft world are usually spent screaming, running for my life, and hiding from scary monsters—sometimes even GIANT ones! Well, not this time! Instead of a giant monster, I was plopped down in front of a giant MANSION! (Yay, Minecraft: Peaceful Paradise floating book!) And the best part was that it wasn’t all dark and creepy like the Haunted House! It was an awesome modern mansion made of white stone and glass. Even better, it was built on a hillside overlooking an ocean! Actually, it reminded me of Tony Stark’s house in one of my favorite movies, Iron Man. I guess you could say it’s a MARVEL-ous mansion! (Heh, heh.)   Anyway,

The instincts and attributes of animals are so much better than those of a human being in so many ways, and we sometimes forget that fact. We certainly don’t have the strength of many animals; we cannot fly like birds and insects; we cannot survive in harsh climates like many animals; we cannot navigate like most animals; we cannot swim like fish and whales and dolphins; we cannot get along with one another like most animals. In fact, all in all, human beings are kinda wimpy. It is only our brainpower and our invention of tools and weapons that have allowed us to survive. Some then say that our brainpower is why the human is superior, but given a level playing field and only our physical attributes, human beings are not superior to many animals. Our brains may appear to be superior and may very well be, although we still cannot navigate like a whale or dolphin or bat with sonar, and we certainly don’t have the highly tuned instincts or the heightened senses of many animals. The point is that we are different creations, and each creation has different attributes for its survival—and we as human beings should respect that fact. Animals aren’t necessarily better or worse than we are, they are just different, and we should acknowledge that they have just as much right to survive as we do.

Nice try,” Ro said, peeking into the room. “We all know you would’ve been pounding on the door to the Shores of Solace if you’d realized.” “The Shores of Solace?” Sophie asked. “Apparently that’s what my dad calls his beach house,” Keefe told her. “And yes, he says it with a straight face.” “Meanwhile, I keep calling it the Waves of Wimpiness,” Ro said proudly. “Lord Pretentious is not a fan.” Sophie had to smile at both nicknames, but it faded when she asked Keefe, “How’s it going, living there?” He shrugged. “It smells better than Alvar’s house.” “But . . . is your father being nice?” “Oh yeah, it’s a big cuddle fest. And then we sit down and make lists of all the reasons we love each other.

I stood next to Breeze in a small quartz room. A sea lantern served as the only light source, bathing the room in its pale blue light. Against the center of one wall stood a mysterious object. It was three meters tall, three meters wide, and flat, like a banner. However, instead of dyed wool was a surface like the calmest pool of water. Breeze reached out with her right hand. Her fingers touched those of her reflection. After she lowered her arm, we continued staring at ourselves in silence. In awe. It was the first time we'd seen ourselves this way. But more than that were our outfits. Our clothes were made of spider silk, a type of cloth crafted using spider string. Puddles, the owner of the Clothing Castle, had worked with the humans for days to craft perfect recreations of Earth fashion. Then, to make us look even more majestic, our cloaks had been modified to fall over our shoulders. Poster children. Symbols of hope. Villagetown's biggest stars. That's what we've become. Some say it's sweet: a budding romance between two young heroes fighting valiantly against all odds. I'd say that's an exaggeration. Although Breeze and I are close, we haven't had much time for anything beyond battle or preparing for the next. I guess the mayor wants to change that, though. The people need something to believe in, he says. I suppose that's why he whisked us away in

When God creates Eve, he calls her an ezer kenegdo. “It is not good for the man to be alone, I shall make him [an ezer kenegdo]” (Gen. 2:18 Alter). Hebrew scholar Robert Alter, who has spent years translating the book of Genesis, says that this phrase is “notoriously difficult to translate.” The various attempts we have in English are “helper” or “companion” or the notorious “help meet.” Why are these translations so incredibly wimpy, boring, flat . . . disappointing? What is a help meet, anyway? What little girl dances through the house singing, “One day I shall be a help meet”? Companion? A dog can be a companion. Helper? Sounds like Hamburger Helper. Alter is getting close when he translates it “sustainer beside him.” The word ezer is used only twenty other places in the entire Old Testament. And in every other instance the person being described is God himself, when you need him to come through for you desperately. There is no one like the God of Jeshurun, who rides on the heavens to help you . . . Blessed are you, O Israel! Who is like you, a people saved by the LORD? He is your shield and helper and your glorious sword. (Deut. 33:26, 29, emphasis added) I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (Ps. 121:1–2, emphasis added) May the LORD answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you. May he send you help. (Ps. 20:1–2, emphasis added) We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. (Ps. 33:20, emphasis added) O house of Israel, trust in the LORD—he is their help and shield. O house of Aaron, trust in the LORD—he is their help and shield. You who fear him, trust in the LORD—he is their help and shield. (Ps. 115:9–11, emphasis added)

standing in front of a creeper. I turned round and farted at it, the traditional creeper greeting. A fart is about as close as I can get to blowing myself up. In return, it blew up its leg to say hello.

He says it’s “not becoming for a young Prince.” What does he know? He is 332 years old. He’s never been young in his life!

stop saying ‘I wish’ and start saying ‘I will’.

But, like electricity, you do have to plug into it. And you do have to quit being so gosh-darned wishy-washy. Nobody in his or her right mind would call up Sears and say, “Oh, just send me something I like.” Likewise, you wouldn’t call a plumber to fix your toilet with this proviso: “Just come whenever you feel like it.” Yet that’s how most of us interact with the field. We’re wimpy, vague, and don’t have a clue how it actually works.

OCTOBER 19 • Do, or do not. There is no “try.” —Yoda Trying is what we do when we aren’t willing to make a commitment. We say, “I’ll try,” when our heart isn’t ready to give a full effort. It’s what we say when we can’t admit that our resolve is wimpy. And it’s the lie that will defeat us. Some challenges we face can’t be conquered simply by saying, “I will do it.” But we can choose to do something that will help. We can’t move the mountain, but we can pick up some rocks. We can engage with the problem and get to know it better. Every action we take leads somewhere and sets us up for the next action. We even learn from our mistakes and that moves us closer to achieving our goal. Today, I will not just “try”; I will do something to move toward my goal.

The rain was straight out of an enderman's nightmare. I could barely hear anything through the heavy downpour. Still, when I listened closely, I could hear the eerie cries, long and sad. The shuffling. The scraping. The endless, ragged breathing. They were coming. You see, while attracted to torch light, and of course explosions, they are particularly fond of large breaks in cobblestone walls. Only when the lightning flashed did I understand just how many there were. So many, in fact, that describing their amount with a single word, number, phrase, or even sentence just doesn't feel appropriate. For example, I could say there were a lot of them. But then, to a noob, or even a level 50 student, a lot could mean three. Instead, I'll provide a little story to help illustrate what we faced tonight.

Dirk the Jerk had a new computer game called Minecraft. He was bragging about how he was a master of Minecraft. I didn’t really understand what he was saying, but I think it was something about: - fighting the big, black Underwear Men (Seriously?) - defeating ghosts in the Netherlands - being super close to conquering the Slender Dragon (I wonder, how tough could a skinny dragon really be?)   After a while, I just wanted him to shut up! He went on and on and on until I just snapped!   “Yeah? Well, I finished the game on the fourth of July, loser!” I yelled.  I swear the word LOSER echoed throughout the school.   Loser! Loser! Loser!   Eyes bulged and mouths hung open all around us. Tension filled the hallway. Nobody talked to Dirk the Jerk that way. NOBODY. Unfortunately, that didn’t shut him up. He smirked, and challenged me to a Minecraft survival marathon on a popular server this weekend. Of course, I immediately accepted.

Mike was saying something about cave spiders. Something about how, upon seeing one, it's a good idea to run away while screaming like an enderman in an ocean biome.

About MC Steve Even when I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a writer. Stories always fascinated me. And I did not just see them in books and movies… I saw them everywhere - especially in video games. When I looked at the characters in the video games I loved, I always wondered: What is their story? What do they spend their time thinking about? What great adventures will they have? Now, as an adult, and living in the greatest city in the world, I still wonder the same things. Living in New York means that ten thousand times a day I pass by strangers, each with rich and complicated lives I know nothing about. But I want to know! And when I want to know, I write. There is a medium for stories that I think many people – especially adults – ignore: and that is video games. So long and complicated are the plots of video games that sometimes they are richer than movies, or even books! In fact, it was Minecraft that actually got me going in my writing career. I saw it as a channel where the audience could not only engage in the stories, but actively participate in them. Hence, my desire to write my first book - Diary of a Minecraft Wimpy Zombie. When I first published my story, I was terrified. What will people think of me? Will they like my stories? However, given some time, kids have come up to me and told me how much they loved my book. They were not only reading, but enjoying my book! It was this feeling - reaching and connecting with kids – that inspired me to write some more. And, as I continued to write, the more positive feedback I got! Before I knew it, Readers’ Favorite rated my book 5 Stars and I became a #1 Amazon best-selling author, all from following my passion and responding to the passion I saw in others. Wimpy Zombie says, “Because zombies can’t go out into the sun, most of them tend to be afraid of anything that can go into the sun and live to tell the tale.” Let me say this: in a writer’s sense, I used to be a zombie. I was afraid to display my work to the light of day, for fear of the scorching rays of ridicule, embarrassment, or failure. But, like Wimpy Zombie eventually learns, and I learned myself, everyone needs to, at some point in their lives, be brave enough to venture into the sun. If you’d like to post a review, click on the button below and it will take you to the reviews page straightaway:  

We woke up this morning to a full apartment.    Ash and I fell asleep pretty early last night after seeing and saying hello to Tyler and George. Both of them looked a lot like Jill, tired and worried. We all agreed to discuss things in the morning after we have some rest. But when Ash and I went to the living room, they were all right where we left them but now they had guests. Jill ran over to us with a sleepy smile.    "GOOD MORNING, GUYS!"    She laughed and pulled us over to the couches in the middle of the room. They were all sitting in a circle with similar mobile devices. They were all GO trainers.    "Ok everyone, this is Ash and Pikachu. I messaged them to come here and help us deal with everything. I still have to fully explain the situation but if anyone

This is Buck in a nutshell. He either has no clue what I’m saying, or he has a really warped sense of humor. I’ve tried, and failed at, everything I know to get him to follow directions.  Mostly he just wanders around ignoring me, like I’m not even on his back. But sometimes he does the exact OPPOSITE of what I say. Some examples include: “Whoa!” means “Run!” and “Giddyup!” means “Stop now!” (I may have flown off once or twice).

At the mention of Kiara, the man gripped the water pitcher in his hand hard enough that Kevin thought the handle would shatter. Did this man have a grudge against Kiara? He didn’t think so, but then, who could say for sure. For all Kevin knew, this man could have asked Kiara out on a date, thinking his bishounen good looks would make her swoon over him—and had then been disappointed when she told him that wimpy maggots who sparkled didn’t do it for her. Kevin could totally see that happening. “Yes,

How can you say no?

How can you say

I know Mom's always saying friends come and go and family is forever, and maybe that's true. But your family isn't gonna be there when Meckley Mingo chases with his belt on your way home you from school.

As my Pops always says, POOP rolls downhill.

Paris looked me in the eye — as if he could, and desired to, see beyond the colour of my skin... ‘Can I ask you something personal, Ros?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘I’ve always wanted to ask a white person this question, but never had the chance.’ ‘Ask away,’ I said. ‘Was there a moment when you discovered apartheid and questioned it, or was it something you never thought about?’ I told Paris about the day in 1982 when I saw the Whites Only sign outside the Wimpy Bar and questioned my mother. ‘What did she say?’ ‘She translated it into a rule that I must accept and obey.’ ‘And?’ ‘And, I refused to eat my food in protest.’ He wiped his hands, pushed his chair back and stood beside me. I looked up at him like I would the Umhlanga lighthouse. ‘Stand up, Ros.’ I stood up and faced him. He held my face in his hands and said, ‘I knew you were special.’ ‘I’m not special,’ I said. ‘I have spent my whole life criticising apartheid, but doing very little to change anything.’ ‘Tula,’ he said, ‘you knew right from wrong and you had the courage to speak up.’ ‘Fat lot of good it did.

A man strolled up to their table, dressed in the garb of a waiter. His blond hair was long and shiny, showing that he obviously took great care of it, probably more so than a man had any right to care for their hair. Light blue eyes were hidden beneath several strands of shimmering gold, and his pearly white teeth gleamed as he smiled. Kevin nearly groaned. Great. This was just what they needed. A bishie. “Good evening ma’am, madam… sir.” For reasons beyond Kevin, he felt like this man only added him at the last second as an afterthought. “Would either of you care for a refill?” he asked the two ladies at the table, though his eyes focused on Lilian. Kevin felt his blood boil. “No thanks. I’m good here.” Lilian dismissed the man without even looking at him. Vindication rushed through his veins when Kevin saw the pretty boy’s right eye twitch. He apparently wasn’t used to women ignoring him. “I see.” Kevin had to give the man credit. He kept his annoyance in check well. “And what about you, madam?” he addressed Kotohime. “Is the wine to your satisfaction?” He gave her his best smile. “It’s all right, I suppose.” Kotohime took a sip of the wine that he spoke of, managing to hide her grimace. “Though I do wish that you were in possession of some sake instead.” Another twitch. “I apologize that we could not accommodate you.” He bowed. “I have, of course, already suggested that we begin working towards importing sake, however, these things do take time. It will probably be at least a year before we see anything done.” “A shame,” Kotohime said, “I know that Kiara was most looking forward to trying some.” At the mention of Kiara, the man gripped the water pitcher in his hand hard enough that Kevin thought the handle would shatter. Did this man have a grudge against Kiara? He didn’t think so, but then, who could say for sure. For all Kevin knew, this man could have asked Kiara out on a date, thinking his bishounen good looks would make her swoon over him—and had then been disappointed when she told him that wimpy maggots who sparkled didn’t do it for her. Kevin could totally see that happening. “Yes, well, I am terribly sorry to disappoint a woman of her… esteemed position, but I am not in charge of imports, I’m afraid. I merely wait tables.” “Indeed.” “If you’ll excuse me.” “Hold it.” The man turned around. Kevin almost smiled when the man aimed an evil glare at him. He raised his glass. “I’d like a refill of water, please.” A twitch. “Of course, sir.” The man refilled his glass. Kevin leaned in. “If I ever see you stripping my girlfriend with your eyes again, I will rip your arms off and shove them so far up your ass that you’ll need to have surgery done if you ever want to use the restroom again,” he said, his tone and manner nonchalant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man said, his smile fixed. “I am merely doing my job as your host.” “Yes.” Kevin snorted. “I’m sure you are.

Day 1 I am Slinklebert Petrovius Mordechai Smythe, but everyone calls me Slinky, mainly because nobody can ever figure out how to say my name properly. I live in the jungle with my family and we’re the royal family here. It’s no big deal really. It just means that every now and then, dad puts on a crown and makes people bow to him, just so they know who’s boss. And once a year, we have a special party for all the important Minecraftians in the area so dad can show off how many emeralds we have. It’s very boring if you ask me. Nobody ever does though. I’m just a kitten and nobody thinks that I have anything to say they want to listen to. That’s OK with me. I don’t want to be royal anyway. I’d rather play all day. That’s why I’m glad we live in the jungle. There’s so much cool stuff to do here. I can climb trees, chase sunlight through the leaves, and catch fish in the lake. It’s a busy life being a royal kitten. It’s going to be my birthday soon and dad asked me what I wanted. I told him that I wanted to have a pet creeper. He told me not to be so silly. Everyone knows that creepers don’t exist. They’re a story made up by Minecraftians to scare naughty children. No ocelot has ever seen a creeper, and if nobody has seen one then they can’t be real. It’s a shame they’re not real though. They sound so cool! I mean, tall, green things that blow up when they’re annoyed or frightened or trying to cause trouble? Who wouldn’t want to meet one of those? Since dad said I couldn’t have a pet creeper, I had to think of something else to ask for. I know what he really wanted to give me, a day on the throne leading the jungle. I can’t think of a worse present for my birthday. I’d have to sit around all day while people come to see me and complain about what the other ocelots are doing. I’ve sat with dad in the throne room before and it was hard to stay awake. It was so dull! But I could see how much it meant to dad to have me interested in his work, so I told him that I’d like to spend the day with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile as much as he did when he heard me say that. I could count all his sharp, pointy teeth. He has a lot of them. Now that I’ve thought a little more about it, I should have asked for a big pile of fish. At least they’d taste good. Instead, I’ve got to spend my birthday hanging around with dad when I could be out in the jungle having fun. Oh well. I suppose it’s just for one day. I can put up with being bored for just one day.

ask him more questions about my past, and he told me a very strangely sounding story about how we are friends, who had known each other for most of our lives.  I listen to him, but subconsciously do not believe everything he tells me. I feel that there are too many blanks in his story, but since he is the only friendly face, I decide to stay with him.  “Now that you found me, are we going to go back home?” I ask when he finishes telling me his story.  “I think that if I go in a more familiar environment, I will remember my past.” “But, we came here to have some fun,” Dave whines.  “Why do you want to go back so fast?  Let’s just spend a few nights here and then I will show you the way back.  Our families know where we are, and no one is going to worry for us.” “If you say so,” I agree reluctantly.  “But, don’t you think that it will be for the best to go home early?  After all, I am hurt, and I cannot remember anything about my life that happened before yesterday.” “I don’t see what is the hurry,” Dave just raises his shoulders and continues to make plans for our next adventure, as he likes to call it.

Because there is almost always a gap between what we say we believe and what we actually believe. None of us are exempt. If we believe God is mad at us, we will be afraid of making a wrong move for fear he will snap. If we believe God is distant, we will feel alone and untethered in our decision-making. If we believe God is a scolding parent, we may delegate decisions to someone else so we can avoid the consequences. If we believe God is wimpy, we will think that maybe we can manipulate him into doing what we want.

Since I had two brand new Ender Pearls, all I needed was Blaze powder. I fished around inside my magic expandable pocket and pulled out the yellow Blaze rod I had picked up when I visited the nasty Nether a few worlds back. I plunked it down on the crafting table, and two little piles of yellow powder appeared! That was the easy part. Then came the hard part—putting everything together! Making stuff in Minecraft usually means arranging every single ingredient on a crafting table in EXACTLY the right way. And if just one little thing is out of place, you get NOTHING! Let me tell you, I was NOT looking forward to hours and hours of trial and error and error and error and... But I psyched myself up by remembering that Eyes of Ender were my only way back home! I took a deep breath, and got ready for a long and boring day of flailing around at a crafting table. So of course, after getting myself all worked up, the second I put the ingredients on the crafting table an Eye of Ender instantly appeared! I guess you could say it was “Eye-ronic!” (Heh. Get it? Eye-ronic = ironic!) Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining! I’m just glad that the Minecraft irony worked in MY favor for once! Then quick as a flash, I had two brand new Eyes of Ender! Unfortunately, that didn’t mean my problems were over just yet. The torn page made it sound like I’d need a bunch of Eyes, and I was fresh out of Blaze powder! I couldn’t go back to the Nether (no Nether Portal… and no DEATH WISH either!), so there wasn’t any way for me to get more! Hmm. Or was there? Hanging all over the walls inside the tower, were all kinds of framed pictures. One of them was a Blaze rod, and another one was Blaze powder. They looked totally life-like. Then a crazy idea popped into my head. I reached out, and tapped a picture. The Blaze rod went POP! out of the frame, and onto the floor! It WAS real! I tapped the “picture” of the Blaze powder, and it popped out too! WOW! Man, if I had known the items in the frames were REAL, I’d have pulled out stuff in the other hacker kid houses, and saved myself TONS of time and trouble and, more importantly… PAIN!

Well, you know what they say, “Time flies when you’re terrified!

I would say he was gay.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “Think about it. He’s dramatic, he knows how to decorate, likes wimpy music—if he said anything about show tunes I would have to call in a pro to figure this out.

I hate to admit it, but cookies might not be the best food to eat in Minecraft. (I never thought I’d say that!) They don’t seem to keep me full for very long.  I could almost hear Mom saying something about how good vegetables were for you.   (Note to self: Make sure to gather potatoes and carrots. I can’t just eat cookies. *sigh*)