In Honor of My 101st Post....

...I will bore you to death! Well, it's better than being beaten to death will the sharpened broken end of a croquet mallet, eh?

Holy Cow BlogWorld!
Did you know that the post previous to this one was my 100th POST!??

Wow. In honor of my that huge and amazingly important milestone I will share part of a story I wrote for Jeremiah about the day we first met. It's sort of like Miss Yvonne's posts about meeting Captain Carl at Yo Mama's Blog, but not as cool...mainly because she's Miss Yvonne and I'm Erin The Dork.

Aren't you glad you moseyed on over to Blogging is For Dorks today? You're darn tootin'.


Once upon a time, there was a girl:

The girl was small and round, she had a cheery smile, a pleasant disposition and a quick, short step. She had recently pummeled her little brother for messing with her stereo and her arm felt reassuringly sore from his volitile defense. She was at the moment walking down the red brick hill and enjoying the sun and the wind on her face and in her hair.
This delightful girl was heading towards her friends, a small group that spent most of their time skateboarding, and that she spent most of her time watching. She never really minded, actually enjoyed watching them roll around, jumping and swearing when they missed the trick they were attempting. Simple energy encased in arrogant boy movements, perfect in their own way. She was happy and content.
This day would have been the same as many other she had spent in exactly the same way, except for the fact that it was....different. A few days before this day she had met a different boy, well, she hadn't exactly met him but she had seen him, heard him talk and watched him laugh and skate with her friends in an easy manner. She wasn't sure how old he was, he smoked fat camel cigarettes, but they all did. It donned on her at some general point since seeing him that she didn't care how old he was, it could be assumed he wouldn't be too much older than her, or the range of ages of her friends. These boys were all the same no matter how old they were, really. But for some reason she was convinced this particular boy was not the same. He was thin and attractive, with an easy smile and a bright expression. She heard him laugh many times in the short period she watched him and when she asked someone what his name was, she thought it unique.
Later it would all make sense, but in this moment the thought of the fleeting moments she spent looking at him make a slow but beaming smile appear on her ready face. She had crossed the bridge at the bottom of the hill and could already see her friends at a distance. She wondered if the boy would be there this day and a quickening like butterflies took over her tummy.