OK, I've let you wonder long enough. Through valiant and cunning fighting, Pancha prevails in the attack by the pack of wily, yet confused, ninjas.
The ninjas slink away as silently as they came, although they were a little less deadly, and Pancha goes back to her regularly scheduled programming, which is to say, not doing much. Now what happens to Princess Nobuko is another matter, and one that we won't go into here.
Y'all may be aware that I am taking a Spanish class in my final push to become fluent once and for all. It will happen, too, dammit. Well, as part of my homework, I've got to keep a journal in Spanish. Considering that my life isn't all that exciting -- notice only three postings since I started this blog, and one of them was totally made up (I'll let you figure out which one) -- I am now accepting suggestions for things to write about. And they need to be a little more believeable than me getting attacked by mistaken ninjas (ninjas equivocados in Spanish).
So send in your ideas. The winner(s) get a mention on this here widely read and much-praised blog. Blog credits, if you will. What more could you ask for?
Oh! I'll do shout outs. There's only one tonight.
This one goes out to my homie Shelly, who will soon be visiting and celebrating her birthday, not in that order. What up, yo?
That's it.
Maybe we'll talk about Halloween next. It's my favorite holiday, you know. Aside from that one that starts in December and ends in March. Mmmm ... green beans and tiny buffalo cookies. Can't beat 'em.
p.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Mistaken Identity
When we last left our heroine, she was fighting a pack of wily ninjas on an assassination mission. You'll recall that they attacked her in a case of really mistaken identity, believing her to be the Princess Nobuko, who had fled home to escape a loveless arranged marriage to a man twice her age and to find out the truth about her mother's mysterious disappearance, and had taken the Emperor's wife's (her stepmother's) prized jade necklace.
The necklace, if you remember, was a gift from the Emperor to Empress Mizuki, who had coerced it out of him through a combination of feminine wiles and mickeys slipped into his before-bed glasses of warm milk, which, as you know, was how she got him to marry her in the first place.
Of course, you remember that the necklace really belonged to Princess Nobuko's mom, Empress Saika, who had mysteriously disappeared a mere three months before the Emperor and Empress Mizuki's nuptials.
If you kept reading, you would have learned that Princess Nobuko chased a lead on her mother's whereabouts to a Northern California metropolis, having learned from the man who sold fruit from a cart at the gates to the Emperor's city that the word on the street was that an unknown man of high rank and nobility (who, as you know, was acting on behalf of Empress Mizuki) paid the pirates of the Good Ship Gyoza a handsome sum to ferry away across the Pacific a woman bound up in burlap and screaming like the dickens. Though no one was sure who she was exactly, they could tell she was educated, and from the clothes that hung below the burlap sack, that she was a fine lady indeed. No one thought to help her, though, as you'll recall, because who in their right mind would mess with the Gyoza boys? No one, that's who.
If you probe your memory, you know that the fruit vendor told Princess Nobuko that he wasn't sure where exactly the ship would dock, but that there was tell of a man in a Northern California metropolis who would take the fine lady off the Gyoza boys' hands for a nominal fee, and put her to work in one of his sweatshops.
If you read further, you would recall that Princess Nobuko then hopped the next ferry to the Northern California metropolis, and when Empress Mizuki got word of what she saw as Princess Nobuko's treachery -- which threatened her own treachery -- she sent the pack of wily ninjas after her.
Of course, the ninjas, although silent and deadly, were fantastically confused. They had never seen Princess Nobuko -- she was unmarried and a princess, after all -- and so had no idea what she looked like. They got what would have been a passable description from Empress Mizuki, but her Elmer-Fuddian speech impediment made their grasp of that description tenuous at best.
It didn't help that the Emperor's description varied greatly from Empress Mizuki's, largely due to his heavy medication at Empress Mizuki's hands, nor had anyone a recent picture of Princess Nobuko, again because she was an unmarried princess.
You'll remember that the ninjas argued, silently, deadly, the whole boat ride over about whether she was short or tall, fair or brown, coarse or fine, coming to no conclusion other than they all seemed to agree that the Empress' court's intel put her at a certain address in the Northern California metropolis.
Which was how our heroine came to be fending off an attack by a pack of confused ninjas.
Needless to say, the Empress' court's intel was waaaaaay off. But the ninjas, having committed to an attack, ignored the fact that Pancha didn't really look like any of the descriptions of the princess that they had received and didn't even speak their language.
Still, our heroine had no choice but to fight back, and even though she had no beef with the ninjas, she was picking them off one by one with her mad judo skillz.
So that's where we left off, and really, nothing has changed. Check back later to see how Panchita fares against the wily ninjas.
Then again, you may never know.
The necklace, if you remember, was a gift from the Emperor to Empress Mizuki, who had coerced it out of him through a combination of feminine wiles and mickeys slipped into his before-bed glasses of warm milk, which, as you know, was how she got him to marry her in the first place.
Of course, you remember that the necklace really belonged to Princess Nobuko's mom, Empress Saika, who had mysteriously disappeared a mere three months before the Emperor and Empress Mizuki's nuptials.
If you kept reading, you would have learned that Princess Nobuko chased a lead on her mother's whereabouts to a Northern California metropolis, having learned from the man who sold fruit from a cart at the gates to the Emperor's city that the word on the street was that an unknown man of high rank and nobility (who, as you know, was acting on behalf of Empress Mizuki) paid the pirates of the Good Ship Gyoza a handsome sum to ferry away across the Pacific a woman bound up in burlap and screaming like the dickens. Though no one was sure who she was exactly, they could tell she was educated, and from the clothes that hung below the burlap sack, that she was a fine lady indeed. No one thought to help her, though, as you'll recall, because who in their right mind would mess with the Gyoza boys? No one, that's who.
If you probe your memory, you know that the fruit vendor told Princess Nobuko that he wasn't sure where exactly the ship would dock, but that there was tell of a man in a Northern California metropolis who would take the fine lady off the Gyoza boys' hands for a nominal fee, and put her to work in one of his sweatshops.
If you read further, you would recall that Princess Nobuko then hopped the next ferry to the Northern California metropolis, and when Empress Mizuki got word of what she saw as Princess Nobuko's treachery -- which threatened her own treachery -- she sent the pack of wily ninjas after her.
Of course, the ninjas, although silent and deadly, were fantastically confused. They had never seen Princess Nobuko -- she was unmarried and a princess, after all -- and so had no idea what she looked like. They got what would have been a passable description from Empress Mizuki, but her Elmer-Fuddian speech impediment made their grasp of that description tenuous at best.
It didn't help that the Emperor's description varied greatly from Empress Mizuki's, largely due to his heavy medication at Empress Mizuki's hands, nor had anyone a recent picture of Princess Nobuko, again because she was an unmarried princess.
You'll remember that the ninjas argued, silently, deadly, the whole boat ride over about whether she was short or tall, fair or brown, coarse or fine, coming to no conclusion other than they all seemed to agree that the Empress' court's intel put her at a certain address in the Northern California metropolis.
Which was how our heroine came to be fending off an attack by a pack of confused ninjas.
Needless to say, the Empress' court's intel was waaaaaay off. But the ninjas, having committed to an attack, ignored the fact that Pancha didn't really look like any of the descriptions of the princess that they had received and didn't even speak their language.
Still, our heroine had no choice but to fight back, and even though she had no beef with the ninjas, she was picking them off one by one with her mad judo skillz.
So that's where we left off, and really, nothing has changed. Check back later to see how Panchita fares against the wily ninjas.
Then again, you may never know.
Monday, September 18, 2006
First blog
Our story begins in a bright yet claustrophobic office known as "The Studio."
There, our heroine, Pancha, (that is to say, me) sits at her keyboard occupying her time watching her black Labrador retriever roll around on the grass in the back yard (ahhh ... to be a dog), exchanging polite, but increasingly strained, e-mails with the printer company in an effort to figure out why her printer all of a sudden stopped working (it's a conspiracy), and hoping fervently for meaningful employment (or any kind of employment, really).
No, it's not as exciting as it might sound. That's why I, Pancha, the heroine of my own story, have started this blog. Because if this is what I've got to do on a Monday ... well then, I'll be damned if you're not going to suffer right along with me.
Forgive me. That was a little harsh. My intent is not to make you, my loyal and enthusiastic reader, suffer. I actually have quite a bit to do, and it might be quite interesting if I actually did it, but I have been actively engaged in procrastination for the better part of three hours, and honestly, I don't foresee that changing any time soon.
As I absolutely must get out of the house before going mad, I am going to wrap up with a few words about what you can expect on these cyberpages:
Not much.
I think that sums it up quite nicely. To expand:
I will not post regularly, but instead when time permits and the mood strikes.
I will not make it a point to entertain you, because that is simply setting me up for failure, and I've had quite enough of that recently, thank you very much.
I will not be worldly or topical in my entries -- this is not the place to come if you're looking for insightful commentary on the state of American politics.
I hope I have lowered your expectations significantly. Please check back for more postings whenever you feel like it. Maybe it'll be your lucky day.
hasta luego,
pancha.
There, our heroine, Pancha, (that is to say, me) sits at her keyboard occupying her time watching her black Labrador retriever roll around on the grass in the back yard (ahhh ... to be a dog), exchanging polite, but increasingly strained, e-mails with the printer company in an effort to figure out why her printer all of a sudden stopped working (it's a conspiracy), and hoping fervently for meaningful employment (or any kind of employment, really).
No, it's not as exciting as it might sound. That's why I, Pancha, the heroine of my own story, have started this blog. Because if this is what I've got to do on a Monday ... well then, I'll be damned if you're not going to suffer right along with me.
Forgive me. That was a little harsh. My intent is not to make you, my loyal and enthusiastic reader, suffer. I actually have quite a bit to do, and it might be quite interesting if I actually did it, but I have been actively engaged in procrastination for the better part of three hours, and honestly, I don't foresee that changing any time soon.
As I absolutely must get out of the house before going mad, I am going to wrap up with a few words about what you can expect on these cyberpages:
Not much.
I think that sums it up quite nicely. To expand:
I will not post regularly, but instead when time permits and the mood strikes.
I will not make it a point to entertain you, because that is simply setting me up for failure, and I've had quite enough of that recently, thank you very much.
I will not be worldly or topical in my entries -- this is not the place to come if you're looking for insightful commentary on the state of American politics.
I hope I have lowered your expectations significantly. Please check back for more postings whenever you feel like it. Maybe it'll be your lucky day.
hasta luego,
pancha.
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