Time is running out...

Sunday 14th April 2013 - DAY 1

I don't mean to sound dramatic, but time really is running out for us here in the Shire-o-Sauce! We have given ourselves a deadline for completing our BIG assignment; 1st May. That is fifteen days from now. So we decided to 'attempt' a documentation of the events that occur in the coming fortnight. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly - you can be sure to see a lot the latter! 

So here we go, TEN THOUSAND words. 

Let's do this. 

Sun, birds, buds and the return of a green world!

Lying on the bed with sun shining through her small window; warming up her small chamber that she currently shares with her mini-me (aka her kid brother), trying to ignore the persistent bird tweets early in the mornings. Such simple details are what makes up the season called Spring.

April, despite the chilly mornings, the sun manages to lit the world up by givining the late night's frost-bitten ground that sparkly shine - which is yet to be duplicated.

Her nose itches, on the wurge to runny, and she knows, like the the trees know, like the returning birds from the south know, that it is the time of the year. The time where the long, cold, and harsh season has passed, and in its place a warmer, more gentle and filled with possitive energy season tests its water. Spring, the symbol of a new beginning, the symbol of a second change - the symbol of another future. Yes, she can tell how her entire being shifts along with the weather. Gone is the constant chill. Gone is dark gloom. Slowly the depressing wardrobe is replaced by colours leading her to various directions. What path is the right one and which one should be avoided is yet unclear. However, she knows, deep down inside, that regardless of her choice - what the future holds are endless of possible outcomes. That, is what really matters. 

Now for a proper introduction.....

How do you follow a first post like that? Where an offer of an explanation was presented with regards to the title of the blog, then none given. Instead you are provided with a rather....unusual....dialogue between two members of the digestive tract. Somewhat fictional, yet - knowing my flatmate - probably true. In her head, at least. 

So let's try again. Doofbal. The name of our blog and future food business. Obviously I can't give too much away (take note Mi - no details!!!) but it will be fun. And tasty. And weird, but in a good way. 

As for us - the 'bloggers' - we're two months (and 40,000 words collectively) away from completing our undergraduate degrees at the University of Sauce. In Sauce town, Sauce-shire (or Shire-o-sauce as I affectionately call it). Our birthdays are 365 days apart, though we are not related. A useless yet crucial fact for when either of us make reference to the other as our 'twin'. There is a lot to be said about birthdays - I never gave it much thought before, until I met Mi. That's her name, the other one; Mi. How two people who are in many ways 'yin and yang', who were born and raised in different countries and whose families embrace totally different cultures, doing two totally different degrees, could turn out to be best friends - with SO MUCH in common - surely can't be down to coincidence. So as I said, there's a lot to be said about birthdays. The same can also be said about names, though I haven't given that one anywhere near as much thought. Mine is Emily by the way. 

So that's us, the bloggers. Mi and Emily; two almost-graduates contributing to a blog entitled "Doofbal", residing in the town of Sauce, and leading the way in the exploration of procrastination methods. 

If you enjoy reading our words then welcome, glad we could help, you're not alone in your weirdness, have a nice day.

If you hate what we have to say then you're welcome, glad to have made you feel better about yourself, you're probably not alone in your weirdness, have a nice day. 

Here's a photo of a lizard licking its eyeball. No need to thank me. 

Till next time! E x

initiation with some tummy complications

Okay, it is very late, as in late for someone who is old and aging still, I am going to keep it short.

Hello - to someeone out there who is bored enough to read this. Either way I am honored by such gesture.

I do realize this is the first entry of this blog - oh, well. If you are still reading it means that you will understand that many posts from now on is gonna be just like this random. 
Also, if I had any manners (buried deep somewhere) I would start by introducing myself and the name of this blog. Even myself understand that an explaination at least is in order. However, this is me.

Therefore what you will grt to read is the following letter of complaint signed by a certain tummy to a certain mouth.

Dear Mr. Mouth.
(I certainly hope that you are indeed a Mister based on the assumption of your healthy appetite the least. I am concerned on the topic of your manners when shuffling food into your mouth. The speed of such is not appropiate - least so of a lady!)

My reason for contacting you despite the knowledge of your busy schedule - indeed you do not seem to stop chewing or swalloing EVER! Is such that I cannot take it anymore.I do realize there must have  been some kind of misunderstanding between the headquarters (brain) too keep informing the hands to non-stop placing food in your working area. I do not understand how the hormones activating the cravings for dairy products could have been release in such manners! In the end of the day I am the one to deal with the consequences. I am doing my best but to break it all down and sort them out as useless is nothing like a waltz on roses - no, but it is not only increasing our workload but I am afraid our workings cannot be as descret and will no doubt affect our host. 

Thus, I beg you to keep whatever you are best at doing - mainly talking- to distract the bloody cravings and constant stream of food inhaled.

Sincerly,
Madam Tummy