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While not all of the original comments or Scrineblog entries have made it home to roost quite yet, it appears the days of newscrine.com have come to a close.
Scrine.com is back in business. Still lacking a decent mobile access, but we're getting close.
Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.
This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.
Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.
A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
if you have two kids and decide to take them to the beach on a 95 degree afternoon (with 90% malevolent purposes, 'i bet this'll wear em out...') this math will equal a lot of shady characters and sideshow circuses in the course of an hour and a half. sure, your heels will be soft, your toenails debrided and perfect for the sandals you just happen to have with you; but in the end you'll get the same result as the toe touching promise i've warned you about.
and after all this that you are unwilling exposed to, these black socks, and thongs on 4 year old's to 400 pounders to men with badly placed and explicit tattoos carrying fishing poles, you will have to make the trip back to your car withou you or said children being side swiped by stiff necked tourists speeding down the straightest and most deserted road in town. you will laugh to yourself, knowing what they don't, about the speed trap up ahead, and then slide down your window to wave them goodbye as you pass them on the side of the road. a little local vengeance goes a long way.
No wonder you haven't been around much lately. You were in pain, and all on account of my brutish, vulgar American ways, and for that I must apoligise. Or perhaps an ode.
While the woman in her might rationise
The constant, jarring pain of the Americans' -ize,
The girl inside felt troubled, no, assaulted,
"These misspellings," she thought, "must really be halted."
First pleading her case in letters and cards,
She then took to the streets, tried radio, then bars,
"If the -ize were but one, but no, it's a thousand!
Like suffering a case of grammatical Munchausen!"
"It's an affront to the language, an unbearable disparity,
I can't accept it, not this... this... American vulgarity!"
Then she'd pound her fist on the bar, and toss back her beer,
And every Australian within earshot would let out a cheer.