just minishorts.

Because this blog is about me, me and meeeee, today I will talk about me, mee and meeee… (and you can scoot off if this does not interest you and it's not supposed to interest you anyway).

Someone asked me what I'm currently doing for a living because I seem to be online most of the time and talking a lot of bull. Well. Right before me is a book full of bed-time stories. I'm supposed to choose a few that has moral values, sans political sentivities, sans religious sensitivities, sans racial sensitivities, and repackage them into an appropriate format that will be CD-fiable. CD-fiable, i.e. a coined term (by yours truly), means to convert into a multimedia format.

I have since re-written about 13 stories for the upper primary market, and am heading on to tell tales like 'The Fox and the Stork', 'The Musicians of Bremen' and 'The Greedy Dog'.

I particularly like the last story, and if you haven't heard of it before, eh you never go kindergarten before izzit? But never fear, I'm here, The Greedy Dog's about an old little bitch who found a bone on her way to get to the BIG city — to get more bones methinks, walked across a bridge, looked at her reflection, saw another dog with another bone and wanted that bone also, and stupidly leaped into the water to eat the other 'bone'.

Somehow this is reminiscent of the actions of some people that I have been recently acquainted with.

Now you see, this storytelling business has been going on for about a week or so, and its getting a wee bit tiring. And sitting DIRECTLY UNDER the air-conditioner vent is not speeding up my brain either. But the again, my worktime chat partner Elaine mentioned that she thought what I was doing was cool, so I think I can live in the doldrums for a bit. But, today I decided to be a good girl and reassure mothers who read blogs that minishorts of the 'WTF and go eat my non-existent balls' bad-mouth is currently writing short stories for children aged 13 and below. And they will be distributed into schools near you.

Can you blame me that I feel like a goddess? A mini chunk of your child's imaginary future is in MY hands. Muahahaha.

Now you are pardoned for feeling pissed. Come let me kiss all the nice and kind ladies in the world.

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