I have created a meme.
Yes, I, Penelope, the all knowing and ever so fabulous cat, created one of those wretched little games, which I so love playing.
Actually, this meme came from Karen. Actually, this isn't a meme at all, but merely an activity Karen saw in a workshop about a month ago. She thought it was fun so I'm passing it on to you, my readers of discriminating taste.
If you didn't know this already, Karen is a high school teacher. She attended a seminar referencing "choice theory", a concept in which students are given options for assignments. In theory, if the student gets to "choose" what they do, then they are more likely to do it.
But that really isn't important to us. This is the meme:
Listed below are four assignments. You choose one and complete it on your blog. For our purposes we are using the children's tale: The Three Little Pigs.
You are an insurance adjuster. You are writing a letter to the pigs in regards to their policy not covering "wolf breath".
You are Mrs. Pig (mom of the three little pigs). You are emailing your husband regarding the fact that the three pigs have returned home, due to the fact that their homes have been destroyed.
You are the wolf. You are writing an apology letter to the pigs regarding the destruction of their homes.
You are a local city councilman. You are giving a speech, advocating removal of all wolves from "Pigville".
Anyway, after looking over these options I like assignment three.
As part of my recovery, it is time I make amends for my wrong doings, which is the purpose of this letter. Today, pig friends, I am begging your forgiveness.
I wish I had a good excuse for my behavior that night. I was out with Prince Charming and we were trying to impress these really hot princesses. Well, all of us had a few too many and the next thing I knew I was bragging about how I could blow down the houses on pig row. Ole Charming kept goading me (you know how he is-- such a frat boy), and I couldn't back down. I got the house of straw-- easy-- barely winded myself. The girls were cheering and a crowd of people from the bar heard the commotion and gathered to watch. They were chanting my name, "Wolf. Wolf. Wolf . . ."
So then, of course I couldn't stop. Once you've experienced the drunken glory of the inebriated hot chicks of fairy tale land shouting your name, jumping up and down with glee, bouncing . . .
But I digress.
The crowd followed me as I headed next door to the house made of sticks. In the midst of the shouting and screaming I once again huffed and puffed and low and behold the house of sticks came crashing down like a house of cards. With that, two of you pigs come running down the street squealing with fear like something out of Deliverance. (Enough similes for you???)
Again, the crowd behind me screamed my name-- louder than before. I was pretty winded this time, so Jack (as in Beanstalk) brought me another beer. Charming, persuasive as ever, convinced me to go for the gusto.
Gusto being the brick house.
"Come on," he said to me, his arm around Cindy, as in rella. "You know you can do it. It's just bricks. Besides those pigs don't know squat about bricklaying. I bet we can knock it over with no more than a puff."
Since you all know Charming, I'm sure it is obvious that "we" in this scenario means "me".
With the support of the crowd I huffed and I puffed and nothing happened. So I tried again. Nada. Everyone stood silent. I tried again. Still the brick house stood like, well, a brick house.
The silence was both palpable and awkward as hell. Snow, as in White, brought me another beer. God love Snow, she's got a heart of gold. Lets face it: by this point I was pretty 'faced. And as we all know, I'm not a happy drunk.
I was pissed.
Pissed at the house that wouldn't fall down.
Pissed at you pigs who wouldn't stop laughing from inside that brick house.
Anyway, Charming was back at the bar, now hanging out with Goldy, as in Locks. (It was getting close to midnight-- I'm guessing Cindy had to split.) I wanted to go home, but well, you know Charming.
So I got another beer and soon Beauty came over. One thing lead to another and the next thing I know ole Beauty was talking about some party back at the castle. Then a shadow was cast over us in the darkness of the bar.
It was the Beast.
I can't stand Beast. He's moody. And you know what, if you're going to get involved with a tramp like Beauty, you should at least have a sense of humor about her shenanigans.
Anyway, so the ridiculous Beast was all questioning me about who I was and what we were talking about in that brooding deep voice. He is such a baby.
If it weren't for the fact that Beast is like twenty times bigger than I am, I'd lay him out fast. However, he is and I'm a realist, so I just excused myself to the john. Since I didn't want to deal with that thug of a creature, my inebriated self decided it was wise to climb out of the bathroom window.
Due to my tendencies towards excess, I kind of got stuck in the window. So once again I huffed and I puffed, and well I was stuck. And it freaking hurt. After some squirming, I finally fell head first out of the window and onto the concrete parking lot.
So there I was, lying underneath the bathroom window, wondering about what the heck I was doing. It was then I decided to go the path of the straight and narrow. I checked into Promises, got a room with with "the Hoff", which brings us to today: me sitting at step nine.
Anyway, I'm sorry about trashing your houses. It was wrong. I'd say come over and we could chat about the old days over pork chops but that seems tacky. So hang loose, little piggies, and please consider upgrading your standards on building products so such things don't happen in the future.
I gotta go. I'm supposed to have dinner with Little Red Riding Hood tonight. I really hope she doesn't bring Grandma . . .
So that is my story for today. I hope you enjoyed it. I've seen some pretty creative minds out there (Shife, Travis . . . to name but a few). Take a gander at it-- it's kind of fun.