Never try to attack a sturdy, steel chair. It has an impeccable defence.

Kate snorted. She seethed. The chair provoked a short-lived assault by looking with calm detachment on her severe infuriation. The chair won. Kate hobbled away with a red toe, muttering darkly about going to Ikea.

All because the form of a teacup eluded her. (one hour ago) She poised the tip of the pencil on the clean, crisp paper and proceeded to make a series of wide, sweeping movements. The effect was studied from all angles. After a moments thought, she came to the conclusion that she was remarkably apt at drawing. But only in the eyes of the Tragothonians from planet Extortha, which have an unfathomable predilection for art works resembling grotesque, lump and scribbled objects which possess not blood ties to the intended item of study. Not even third cousins twice removed.
For all other life forms, whether it be the yellow-spotted gznoonak, the grumpy and cigar-smoking ophi, or the incurably hysterical Eurj (which, for some unknown reason, looks exactly like a bowler hat) IT WAS SHIT.

So she did was kate always does when she can't do something. She gave up and stormed off.

You guys haven't seen me really 'angry' have you? i mean, annoyed, sure. I spend most of my time annoyed as something or other (falling back on the incorrigable blueness of the carpet when my good disposition has just started to bask in a couple of rays of sunlight). But angry. hmm.
It's kind of funny, and kind of not- when my mum gets angry, she yells and storms and, well, doesn't scruple to let everyone know it. I'm the opposite. I get all cold. I clench my jaw and avoid contact completely. So when we're angry at each other, my anger is unbelievably infuriating to her. She bellows in my ear and i assume a nonchalent expression and icily observe some dot to the left side of her head. God, it peeves her. I feel bad about it afterwards, but when you're fuming the voice of morality and reason sounds very distant and feeble in your ear, and is swiftly squished by complete distortions. Burnt up by the flame that has travelled from your heart, on its way up to spout at any time from your ears.
wow, that metaphor really sucks.

something else on my nerves: i was trying to paint john butler. enough said.
also: my graphics calculator has broken.
also: i can't get the blogskin to work.
also: holidays are almost over.

do you see why an innocent teacup had to be scapegoated?