Personal Narrative-Groomed Bunette

The arena was cold, the lights were bright and the pressure was on. We stepped out onto the ice it was fresh and crisp. It was time I had to be ready for the most important ringette game I've ever played.

The Parsley Project involved the efforts of Ingrid Penrod, Blake Shrader, Christina Smith, and me. We did not know each other prior to this assignment but did our best to collaborate. None of us live in the same area which benefited the project in terms of our access to a number of different sites. Ingrid works in Logansport and grew up in North Manchester. Christina works in Peru and her mother-in-law is the head of the Charley Creek Gardens in Wabash. Blake works at a golf course near the Mississinewa Reservoir and lives in Greentown. All members agreed to collect samples near their homes.

Her legs were long, lean, and tan. Her blue shorts were loose, unlike her shirt. It was pitch black; showing all her curves and her flat toned stomach, but sadly it didn't show anything more than her neck and hands. Her dark brown hair was pulled in a high, messy ponytail. A strand of hair had fallen out and was on her full pink lips a split second before she unconsciously brushed it away. I took a moment before I finally looked her into her brown eyes. They weren't the brightest but by far the most captivating as she too studied me.

Her face is so small and round her features very soft. She has big beautiful deep brown eyes that glisten like honey in the sunlight, and a curtain of long lashes that brush her cheeks when she smiles. Her lips are pale pink pouty and full like two rose buds. Her almond colored skin paired with her deep brown hair makes the perfect combination. Her face is framed by the dark mane of curls, short and voluminous it moves at the slightest tilt of her head. Only being 5’4 she reaches my shoulder when standing side by side. Anything she holds looks enormous in her small dainty hands resembling a fairy’s.

My plans as the next owner of Rock Spring Farm are twofold. First to provide a safe haven for senior horses who are too often left without options and secondly to allow those same seniors to help parents in crisis through the Brush It Out program. My love of seniors started with Patch. Patch was an old Appy who had just blown a tendon for the third time, declared useless by those he most relied on he was headed to the game farm. Under the guise of needing a “dead broke” horse for my grandson Patch came to the farm. In caring for Patch, helping him recover from the injuries of being ridden too hard, forced to work too much, never being allowed to heal properly, I found myself recovering. Recovering from wounds hidden under too much work, too

Those exotic eyes, with all the myriad memories, Her luscious lips softer than pillows and Her smile makes people mislaid their tracks. And all and sundry trembles in pain. A glance at thee, Make my blouse all wet of sweats.

I have been looking for a natural curly hair stylist for a while with no luck until I discovered The Curl Whisperer online and decided to get a cut with her after looking at her work online. What convinced me to check this place out was that I saw before and after pictures of cuts she made to people with similar kinky curly hair as mine.

You walked into the casino cautiously, your arm looped through your friends. Somehow she had convinced you to join her. She loaned you one of her dresses, the tight silk hugging your curves, making you feel confident yet exposed. The plum color bringing out your complexion. Of course once you two were seated at the bar she found her next target and pulled him to the dance floor, leaving you alone.

On last Saturday I interviewed with Cosmetologist (Salon) Assistance. Her name was Mrs. Sunita Bhatt. I just met her once before and the last Saturday I met her again for the interview. My appointment with her for an interview was at 11:30 A.M., so I went there are at 11:20 and as I entered the room, I was so shocked by seeing the customer. It was full; there were a lot of people in the saloon. “Sunita can you pass me the dye color?” A voice came from my back, but I couldn't see find her where was she so I went to the receptionist and asked for Mrs. Sunita. She paged her and called her to the front desk. “Oh hey Yesha, how are you?” She asked. I am good how you are?” I am great as well, was just waiting for you. Come on in we will go to inside for an interview.” As I was following her, I noticed everyone was wearing black apron and Invisible gloves. As we were walking to the classroom Mr. Sunita took her apron and gloves off.

compliment Blanche on the way she looks and her style. “Admire her dress and tell her she’s

Her dark, sparking eyes and features like sculpted marble reflect a cruelly alluring perfection. Her flawless red lips press together in ardor as she intently follows the grainy images of the television. Long, delicate fingers alternate tapping anxiously and gripping to the arms of the chair, the glistening nails flitting like spider legs.

Many people think I'm weird. Full of retarded shit. But I ain't as weird as the guy next door. I'm a laugh, the line people cross and the wave people ride. I blabber on and am a wreck-lace case but without the spark there is no flame. I am the person of people's nightmares or their dreams. I am the same as good and bad. I may not be as good looking as those you want to be with but what I am cheeky and full of heart. If you don't like me well the life you own has run into my nightmare. Because those who know me know I am a ball of

As I walked into the restaurant, the bells on the door chimed, signaling that I had entered. I look and see the square dessert that has been calling to me from the moment I first thought about it this morning. I see it waiting in the chilled display case. A mural of of the Greek Islands sits in the background, creating the sensation of being on the island; I can almost feel the cool sea breeze brush across my face. This layered creation starts from the bottom to the top with fine creamy mascarpone filling, next is the lady fingers that had been in only the finest coffee freshly brewed for this special dessert that morning. Next there is another layer of the creamy filling. Lastly there is a fine layer of cocoa powder dusted on the top, crowning

From the moment she arrives, dressed impeccably, you are wowed by her astonishing appearance and curious about what surprises are lingering under the clothes. She sheds her layers for your enjoyment and wraps you in her charms, issuing a level of eroticism not found in Istanbul strip clubs.

“They told me you would kill me”, I told the Barber. A look of horror crossed over his face, he probably thinks i'm going to kill him. I walked a few steps then turned to face him, “ It's not easy to kill. I know what I’m talking about”. I walked out, I am not surprised that he didn't kill me. However the way he was shaking as soon as I walked in showed me he was debating whether to. He made the right choice though, it's very hard to kill a man. I started towards the school. I know I will see him there. I told him to come at six o'clock, he wondered what we were going to do. I told him “i’m not sure yet. But we will have a good time”. I smiled to myself remembering the fear on his face. I have lost count of how many I have killed. They might