Kelly Sullivan
Social
Relationship Status
Single
Highschool
Riverdale High School
College
MTSU, until I transfer the heck out.
Interests
Renaissance faires, acting, dancing, drawing, writing, reading, poetry, stage combat, rapiers, archery, coffee and conversation, crème brûlée, France, travelling, Shakespeare, the supernatural, music, laughing, politics
Favorite Music
Classical and indie.
Signs God Hates Megan And I, And Wants Us To Die.
September 25 2005
Sign #1: Sends housewares (i.e. the neighbourhood Linens 'n' Things) to systematically assassinate us or get us thrown out of the store by falling off shelves.
Sign #2: Sends chief nocturnal agent (i.e. skunk) to provoke our dog into attack and justify midnight spray, the cloud of which we are preordained to walk through.
Sign #3: Makes popcorn kernels explode in bowl of already popped popcorn, thereby sending explosions of fluffy white air-popped popcorn everywhere.
Sign #2.5: When measuring popcorn kernels into airpopper, container upends. Kernels go everywhere (much to the kittens' amusement), most notably into a visiting aunt's birthday cake.
Sign #4: When asking if we're on Sign #3, the necessary and proper reply is, "You mean Sign #3,000?"
Sign #2.25: Family threatens our life when we draw near. (This, shortly after the skunk incident. We proceeded to dig out a can of air freshener and spray each other down, bug-spray-camp style.)
All this happened within an hour. An hour.
And these are not all our adventures, oh no. The Universe is too ironic for that. Two days in a row have we walked around Murfreesboro, stopping outside the Republican Headquarters to be thoroughly amused by car-marker graffiti ("Whatevah! Pimpin' ain't easy!"), finding the one pigeon Murfreesboro had lying dead in a ditch, discovering the doors to a now-abandoned coffee-shop swinging open (the second time was damn scary -- it sounded like someone was walking up the front porch to enter! ), a seedy Kwik Mart with iron bars across the door (someone just haaad to have her Icee, and I found Necco wafers. Score!) Hanging out in the one new age store and the one head shoppe. Sitting on the decorative-boulder-edging of a fountain and talking. And finally playing a moldy piano abandoned outside BluesBoro, trying to write a song about the past two days.
It was awesome. Minus the whole skunk-and-popcorn fiascos.
"How do we get ourselves into these things?! More importantly, how do we get ourselves out?!!"
"See, if you sit on this side of the empty lot, you can almost pretend we're in a city."
"Listen, hear that?" "Hear what?" "Exactly. This town is dead."
"....A tumbleweed?!"
"FIND A BACK DOOR!!"
Sign #2: Sends chief nocturnal agent (i.e. skunk) to provoke our dog into attack and justify midnight spray, the cloud of which we are preordained to walk through.
Sign #3: Makes popcorn kernels explode in bowl of already popped popcorn, thereby sending explosions of fluffy white air-popped popcorn everywhere.
Sign #2.5: When measuring popcorn kernels into airpopper, container upends. Kernels go everywhere (much to the kittens' amusement), most notably into a visiting aunt's birthday cake.
Sign #4: When asking if we're on Sign #3, the necessary and proper reply is, "You mean Sign #3,000?"
Sign #2.25: Family threatens our life when we draw near. (This, shortly after the skunk incident. We proceeded to dig out a can of air freshener and spray each other down, bug-spray-camp style.)
All this happened within an hour. An hour.
And these are not all our adventures, oh no. The Universe is too ironic for that. Two days in a row have we walked around Murfreesboro, stopping outside the Republican Headquarters to be thoroughly amused by car-marker graffiti ("Whatevah! Pimpin' ain't easy!"), finding the one pigeon Murfreesboro had lying dead in a ditch, discovering the doors to a now-abandoned coffee-shop swinging open (the second time was damn scary -- it sounded like someone was walking up the front porch to enter! ), a seedy Kwik Mart with iron bars across the door (someone just haaad to have her Icee, and I found Necco wafers. Score!) Hanging out in the one new age store and the one head shoppe. Sitting on the decorative-boulder-edging of a fountain and talking. And finally playing a moldy piano abandoned outside BluesBoro, trying to write a song about the past two days.
It was awesome. Minus the whole skunk-and-popcorn fiascos.
"How do we get ourselves into these things?! More importantly, how do we get ourselves out?!!"
"See, if you sit on this side of the empty lot, you can almost pretend we're in a city."
"Listen, hear that?" "Hear what?" "Exactly. This town is dead."
"....A tumbleweed?!"
"FIND A BACK DOOR!!"
