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| My daughter in law is cheating on my son with my other son, what can I do to stop this outrageous mess? My daughter in law Ebony had me in her corner until I found out this affair she's having with my baby! My son Andre is 20 years old, Ebony is 34. Andre decided not to go to college right away so he stayed home with me and held down a job after graduating high school. Ebony is married to my older son Malik who is currently locked up. He been in prison since 2008 and he's expecting to be released early next year. I can't pretend that Malik has been a total good guy. He put Ebony through a lot. They have a 9 year old son and a 6 year old daughter together. Malik could never hold down no job, he blew his money on weed and he ran his household into debt which made Ebony lose the house last year and have to move into my house along with my grandguys. Through all of that, Ebony did indeed support Malik by writing letters, visiting and keeping his commissary full. She also helped with bills, cooking and cleaning in my house. So, I can't say she sat on her behind and ain't do nothing. Ebony put up with a lot to be with Malik because she loved the sh*t out of him. Ebony is college educated and makes good money and her parents think she can do much better than some delinquent thug. Even though it hurts that they was talking about my son; it's the truth I must admit. About 7 months ago, Ebony got upset because Malik's jealous, spiteful, ghetto baby momma Lakeisha decided to come to my house and drop off a bunch letters addressed to her from Malik throughout his prison stay. These letters did not say much about the 12 year old son Lakeisha and Malik have together. Malik was saying things like "He misses her", "He still loves her" and "He can't wait to see her". Ebony cried for a long time over that mess. For months I've been consoling Ebony, letting her know that SHE is my daughter and Malik shamed me because I done raised him better than that. I've been cheated on by Malik's father and then Andre's father did the same thing to me, so I felt Ebony's pain. But yesterday afternoon was a nightmare. When I came home from work, my grandguys was playing the Nintendo Wii in the living room. I goes upstairs and hear Ebony moaning from Andre's room. His lock was broken so I busted in and embarrassed both their behinds. They were both naked trying to get dressed. My son barely had his boxers on when I came in. I cursed Ebony out calling her a whore and I had to stop myself from whooping her ***. Long story short, I told her to get her things and get out my house, but my grandguys can stay. But no, Ebony took her things, her guys AND Andre with her to MY DAUGHTER'S house which they'll be staying until they find a place. My daughter is a backstabbing little *****. She never got along with me or Malik so I think she's being spiteful and I'll deal with her later. If she wants to crowd up her house with Andre, Ebony, the guys PLUS the husband and son she already has then that's her irresponsible problem. Andre and Ebony claim to be in love with each other. I can't believe all of this happened under my roof behind my back. To me, this don't make her no better than Malik. I still ain't even told him. Should I tell him? Do you think Ebony was justified in anyway? What in the hell should I do? |
| wow what a story! I don't really know what to say except I bet that ebony had sex with his brother our of spite and being so hurt by malik that she just didn't know what else to do besides try to make herself feel better about him doing things behind her back by doing thing's behind his back... I don't know whether you should tell your son or not. I would want my mom to tell me but I am assuming they are already over since he loves someone else... so maybe it's not necessary. |
| My daughter in law is having an affair with my younger son while she's married to my oldest son. What can I do? My daughter in law Ebony had me in her corner until I found out this affair she's having with my baby! My son Andre is 20 years old, Ebony is 34. Andre decided not to go to college right away so he stayed home with me and held down a job after graduating high school. Ebony is married to my older son Malik who is currently locked up. He been in prison since 2008 and he's expecting to be released early next year. I can't pretend that Malik has been a total good guy. He put Ebony through a lot. They have a 9 year old son and a 6 year old daughter together. Malik could never hold down no job, he blew his money on weed and he ran his household into debt which made Ebony lose the house last year and have to move into my house along with my grandguys. Through all of that, Ebony did indeed support Malik by writing letters, visiting and keeping his commissary full. She also helped with bills, cooking and cleaning in my house. So, I can't say she sat on her behind and ain't do nothing. Ebony put up with a lot to be with Malik because she loved the sh*t out of him. Ebony is college educated and makes good money and her parents think she can do much better than some delinquent thug. Even though it hurts that they was talking about my son; it's the truth I must admit. About 7 months ago, Ebony got upset because Malik's jealous, spiteful, ghetto baby momma Lakeisha decided to come to my house and drop off a bunch letters addressed to her from Malik throughout his prison stay. These letters did not say much about the 12 year old son Lakeisha and Malik have together. Malik was saying things like "He misses her", "He still loves her" and "He can't wait to see her". Ebony cried for a long time over that mess. For months I've been consoling Ebony, letting her know that SHE is my daughter and Malik shamed me because I done raised him better than that. I've been cheated on by Malik's father and then Andre's father did the same thing to me, so I felt Ebony's pain. But yesterday afternoon was a nightmare. When I came home from work, my grandguys was playing the Nintendo Wii in the living room. I goes upstairs and hear Ebony moaning from Andre's room. His lock was broken so I busted in and embarrassed both their behinds. They were both naked trying to get dressed. My son barely had his boxers on when I came in. I cursed Ebony out calling her a whore and I had to stop myself from whooping her ***. Long story short, I told her to get her things and get out my house, but my grandguys can stay. But no, Ebony took her things, her guys AND Andre with her to MY DAUGHTER'S house which they'll be staying until they find a place. My daughter is a backstabbing little *****. She never got along with me or Malik so I think she's being spiteful and I'll deal with her later. If she wants to crowd up her house with Andre, Ebony, the guys PLUS the husband and son she already has then that's her irresponsible problem. Andre and Ebony claim to be in love with each other. I can't believe all of this happened under my roof behind my back. To me, this don't make her no better than Malik. I still ain't even told him. Should I tell him? Do you think Ebony was justified in anyway? What in the hell should I do? |
| Mam, I think you should write a letter to Malik, brag on Ebony, tell him that Andre has stood by your side instead of going to college, etc., etc. Then tell him what has happened, remind him of his need to go straight or else he's going to be right back in jail. The letter will give him time to cool down, if he's going to cool down at all. But if he walks out of jail thinking he's got a loving wife awaiting, only to learn what has happened there's no telling how he might react. That's my take on it. Good luck, you and your family are going to need it. |
| Will any fantasy fans critique my first chapter/writing style? I haven't written in aaages, so go easy, hehe. Also, if you answer on this one, will you see my other question with my second half of the chapter in please? So many people on here post their first chapter as just a few paragraphs, but this will be full length :) here goes. Vesol inspected his sabre dozily the sweltering, mid-afternoon humidity in the temple collecting on his forehead. The curved single-edged blade, the large ceremonious hand guard and the crystalline amber pommel were all too valiant and pompous-looking to fit his job. The job in question included slouching against a door all day, ever vigilant against imaginary threats. The city of Halen was a beehive of military planning and activity for the war in the frozen north. As such its inhabitants were incredibly paranoid. Vesol sighed, toying with the ebony scabbard and standing to attention as another important person and his entourage entered through the large walnut door, ready for their audience with the General. He smiled and stepped aside to allow the white bearded, bespectacled man and his servants inside. “Thank you, Captain” said the man without a glance. Many people entered and exited the office that day. The only noises Vesol heard were dull, droning mumbles. The last guests left well after night had fallen. A fully armoured Private wearing his white plumed gold helmet came hobbling up to the office and saluted. “There are some unplanned visitors for the General, sir” he puffed, stooping a little. “Are there any more scheduled meetings today Vex?” Vesol asked. “No sir.” “The General will not want to be bothered after hours. Send them on their way.” The Private muttered something and walked labouredly away. It had become nippy and cold in the hallway, and frequent gusts of wind blew in through the open windows. Vesol slouched a while longer, wondering when the General would decide to go home and relieve him of duty. Screams of confusion and horror haunted the breeze coming from outside. Vesol drew his sword and stood upright. Two figures rounded the corner, one white, the other draped in black. “What is this? Where’s Vex?” The black cloaked man walked calmly up to Vesol. “Stop right there! Who are you? Stop or I swear I’ll stick this in your guts!” he brandished the ceremonial sabre like a common breadknife. The man chuckled darkly. The woman in white next to him smiled mechanically. “Stand down Captain. We have urgent business with the General” he said in a patronising manner. It was as if Vesol posed no threat at all. “Arkana, if you would do the honour...” he spoke confidently. The woman dressed in white stepped forward. Vesol noticed that both her hair and cloak were white, and her eyes had no irises or visible pupils. What happened next was a blur. As she streaked towards him, the woman’s fist connected with his chest so quickly that he almost missed it. The blow winded him, sending him flying through the walnut doors, which had been left unlocked. He sguyded painfully across the floor, further denting his antique armour, his head hitting the General’s desk with a loud thwack. A bitter sweet taste filled his mouth and a dull, splitting pain spread through his skull and brain. Everything blurred, and then he heard the General’s chair scrape back. Nothing was said, but the atmosphere in the room was tense. The sound of armoured feet clattering on the stone floors could be heard as guards came to defend the general. The pair drew blades, and from his lower vantage point Vesol glimpsed the man’s fearsome eyes. They looked dark red. And angry. |
| good story! keep up the good work! help me with my question! answers.yahoo.com/question/index;… |
| Proof read for me please? HS "imaginary journey" paper....? As we drove down the highway, the wind drove the pouring rain across the windshield and on the pavement of the road. Inside the truck, Charlotte, Saige, and I slept while Stucky, the driver, struggled to see through the downpour. I awoke to a liver colored dog, named Dollar, licking my face. Poo, the other dog in the truck, slept on, oblivious to the torrential rain that made visibility low and driving dangerous. Stucky drove on, nearing our destination, the Florida Fairgrounds, as the clock ticked nearer to ten o’clock. We drove from our barn in New Jersey to Florida for the High School Rodeo Finals which Saige and I qualified to compete in. Behind our truck tagged a silver horse trailer. In the trailer stood our three horses, all of which remained wide awake as they braced and balanced on the long ride. Cheyenne, a deep brown colored Quarter Horse belonging to Saige, shifted her foot. Next to her, Justin, my a sorrel Paint Horse, ate his hay. Last in the trailer, Rocket, an ebony black Quarter Horse, swiveled his ears as he listened to the sounds of the road. These three horses traveled with us as our mounts for the rodeo. Justin and Cheyenne, the two barrel racing horses, belonged to us, but we borrowed Rocket to use for the roping competition. “We’re almost here!” I exclaimed excitedly as we drove past a sign pointing towards the Fairgrounds. Stucky and I roused our sleeping companions as we pulled into the Florida fairgrounds: our destination. Sleepily, we climbed out of the truck and carefully unloaded the horses, leading them to a stable in the distance. As I walked, I felt the cold rain soak my tired body and the wind blow the droplets into my face. “Put the two barrel horses in the right stalls, I’ll stick Rocket in the stall opposite the tack room,” Charlotte called to Saige and I as we walked into the well-lit barn. Lined with rows of stalls, this barn housed all the horses that would compete over the next two days. “Alright guys, lets get this crap unloaded so we can crash at the hotel already,” I complained to my companions. Together, we tended to the horses and stowed our gear before parking the trailer and heading to the warm hotel. As I readied myself for bed, I felt that tomorrow could not come soon enough. I fell asleep to excited thoughts about the completion the following day. Saturday dawned bright and warm, but we room mates had roused ourselves long before the sun rose. We fed and watered the horses and prepared ourselves for the day’s activities. As I watched the sun begin its assent, and the beginning of competition draw near, I felt the beginnings of nervousness rise in my stomach. Stucky, on the other hand, evidently felt none of that pressure. “Holy cow, you guys are going to get soaked! Have you checked out the arena? Its pure mud! Crash, ya better be careful!” Stucky exclaimed as he walked into the barn. I had received the nickname crash years ago after a less-than-graceful fall from a horse. “Stucks, will you stop harassing them? They’ve got a job to do and your not helping. Now get in there and quit your messin’ around!” exclaimed Charlotte. “Elena, have you seen my crop?” Saige shouted. “Nope, did you have it yesterday?” I inquired. “I haven’t seen it since we got here. Do you have an extra?” she asked hopefully. “No, your on your own…hey where did my goat string go? Guys, I need that string. Anybody seen it?” I asked frantically. “I don’t know but you better find it.” Charlotte exclaimed, “We needed to be warming up five minutes ago. I’m going to the ring, meet me there.” With time waning and pressure of the difficult day that lay ahead of us bearing down, both Saige and I began to crack with the stress, and accusations flew readily. “I know it was in my trunk last night, did you move it? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” I complained to her. “You know what, I didn’t touch your stuff, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m a little preoccupied looking for my crop, which I desperately need.” Saige answered. By the time we met Charlotte at the ring, anger and tension flew between Saige and I. Justin jittered underneath me, picking up on my stress. Meanwhile, Saige struggled with a misbehaving Cheyenne. Both horses had picked up on the tension of their riders and reacted to it negatively. Saige ran Cheyenne first. I half-heartedly wished her good luck, but secretly I hoped to beat her. I barely tasted the soda I hurriedly drank before mounting Justin in preparation for our run. Seeing the bright red alleyway and the barrels ready for my run, my nervousness left me and I felt nothing but excitement. I gripped the reins, feeling the tough leather resting in my hands. “Our next run is by Elena Mirabito and Justin,” the announcer proclaimed, “this pair traveled from their home state of New Jersey to be with us today. Show us what them Jersey girls can do, cowgirl!” Charlotte gave me an encourag |
| You give far too much information as to make it complicated so I stopped reading after the first paragraph. Too many place-names, actions and repetition of words (rain, stucky etc)glad to have helped, looks good though There is NOTHING wrong with the word 'said' This 'I complained', she exclaimed,shouted,is pointless. Try not to use words tha end in -ly (adverbs) ie: excitedly |
| Text transformation creative writing course work, please comment? She ran her hands through the heads of the knee high bluebell heads, the tallest of their kind anywhere, but not today, today they were all ash on the smouldering earth. The forceful wind blew ripples, waves, tides, in the great dead sea. It had changed since yesterday; yesterday it had been alive. She came to small fire, well into its embers: the culprit, next to a pair of once fluffy rabbits in a miniature wrought iron cage. From the abyss of black the thundering of hooves, closer, closer, her heart found a rhythm of missed beats. ‘It’s okay Ofelia.’ He demounted the black white horse. He was a gentleman, she thought, that, or a highwayman. ‘Fair morning to thee, welcome to the land of dead. What do you here?’ She held the flower basket to him as she walked closer, stopping a foot from him, and answered, ‘picking flowers for all the people at court. I think they need some colour in their lives.’ He nodded, ‘Well, these flowers will add no colour to their lives.’ He spoke without humour, without emotion, he spoke wearily, like an old man beaten by the world, but he was young, she could see by the way he stood, straight back, keeping his height, square shoulders, keeping his width. But his legs were strange, double hinged, resembling horse’s, or goat’s legs; there were faun’s horns hidden beneath his hat, a tall capotain with a magpie plume of green and purple but mostly black. He wore a waist length black cape over a puffed black shirt with dark green trim, and black padded hose and stockings met by knee length deerskin boots. Everything he wore was black, or near to black, everything but the ball mask hiding his face; that was ivory white. ‘A smile to hide the shame in the job’ he told her- without shame- when she asked what it was. ‘But where’s the ball? I’ve seen no people in costume going to a ball, and surely they’d head to Elsinore, not to this place. I wonder if you could point me to Elsinore?’ she asked him. He nodded, and answered ‘you stand on it. And there be no ball, I am a killer, and this is my killer’s mask.’ He pulled a matt black pistol from his cape, to reiterate the point; ‘who takes a loaded gun to a ball?’ He fingered the trigger, before letting it back into the short furrows of his cape. ‘I used to carry a scythe’ he told her. Hey, she thought, knowing then why she trusted him even though he held her an arm’s movement from gun point. She fell into his arms. ‘Still slave to the parasympathetic nervous system’ he lamented, with a light sigh. Soon enough she stirred, and ventured groggily, ‘Death?’ He nodded. ‘Yes. The grim reaper; very grim- hence the mask.’ ‘And you’ve come to reap?’ ‘Yes. I would offer you a coat, but they’re all bloodstained; Denmark is ill; seems every other person’s a murderer these days.’ He tapped his ebony sceptre on the ground, ‘come,’ he said, ‘see who’s showing tonight.’ He held her hand. She felt it warm. He pulled a small glass candle lantern from his cape, slid down one of the panels slightly so as not to let to much wind or rain in, and blew, lighting the storm proof candle with breath of blue flame. They walked, arm in arm, the final distance to the great coliseum invisible beside her, dim light came through the grand entrance between the blood drenched statues of Mars and Zeus on pillars taller than ten men stacked. Enough light for the arena, he decided -it made its own light- and folded the lit lantern back into his cape. Three thrones- two occupied- slightly off from the centre (that occupied by a sole standing figure). It was still night, but bluer black as she followed Death out onto the sawdust. She walked close enough to see that it was her father, Polonius, sat on the largest throne. He wore a green and purple jewel encrusted platinum crown, and sat next to a beautiful Queen. ‘Ofelia, dear; dearest . T’is the jewel in my crown, pride of place amongst the emeralds and amethysts, come to sit and be princess of our realm.’ he grinned, the fondest grin she’d ever see. Her mother smiled too. The fool lamented at the top of his voice- ‘oh boo! t’is the ugly duckling of the ugly duck and fat pompous faun! Boo hiss!’- to rapturous laughter and applause from the unseen audience high up in the stands. King Polonius clapped too, and pointed to the empty throne beside him. The fool bought her a silver crown on a purple velvet cushion, before running back to the centre of the ring. ‘Daughter dearest,’ said her mother, ‘how good it is to see you again- to see you from my own level- I can see why you drive men mad.’ Tears welled in Ofelia’s bright eyes. ‘Mother, father, together?’ She laughed, and a cold hand landed on her shoulder. ‘Ofelia, Ofelia t’is I: Hamlet, your prince.’ Her eyes confirmed it when she turned. She looked to her father, who looked to Death, who produced a black book of psalms, and held it for her, a living lectern, to follow his finger and read. ‘The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in gr |
| Big smiles for you! :D This was actually pretty good. When I opened your question, I looked at the amount of text and groaned. So long. But you drew me in from the beginning. There are some errors to correct, however. You need to use actual quotation marks rather than the apostrophes you're using right now. Also, T'is, as you say it, is actually spelled 'Tis. With the apostrophe before the "t". Another thing: you need to start a new paragraph whenever there is a new speaker. Ex.) "Hey," Kevin said. "Why, hello there," Lucy said. "Nice day today, isn't it?" he said. "Yes, it sure is," she said. Of course, that's a very simplistic example, but I assume you get the point. Always start a new paragraph if you're switching speakers. Keep working on it. You're doing well so far. |
| Choosing a guitar for Industrial-Alternative-Etherea… Rock? So I am looking at a few guitars....Two caught my eye. One is a Gibson and the other a Jackson.... www.guitarcenter.com/Gibson-SG-Sp… www.guitarcenter.com/Jackson-DK2T… The Gibson is obviously going to have better resale value. Gibsons are overrated and Jacksons are underrated. I am going to ditch the stock pickups either way and put in some passive SD Blackouts. I love the way blackouts sound....More versatile and richer than EMGs. I used to like the 85-81 EMG combo, but Blackouts have blown them out of the water. I have the original blackout in the birdge of my Ibanez EX (which unfortunately has wiring issues), and the jazz blackout single coils in the neck, and the combo was nice. Compared to stock Ibanez it was night and day.....However, Ibanez is for lead guitar and I play rhythm and some single note stuff, but I wouldnt describe it as 'lead'. I dont go for that 'screaming' sound. I like heavy crunch in the lows and clear melodic highs. I would go for a Les Paul if it was the studio BUT LPs are ugly as sin and make you look like you need a pocket protector.....The SGs are cooler looking AND easier to play. A double whammy in favor of SG for playing live, not to mention the cheaper price tag means you dont mind the scratches. Do I really need a Gibson if I am going to put SD Blackouts in them anyway? Would an Epiphone SG do the job? Are there any Ibanez thats good for rhythm? I go back and forth between ethereal metal, dark alternative (think soundgarden 4th of July), Industrial (Skinny Puppy. Nine Inch Nails), and gothy folk stuff like some of Rasputina. I do more melodic stuff than most of the industrial bands though, layered over hard industrial drum and base. I use solid state amps. Peavey Vyper. The Gibson is just a little pricey for me, and it does slightly irk me that I will have to change out the tuning nobs and lower the action, though I have to take it in to switch out the pickups anyway. I will probably put the pickups into the Ibanez and give it to my brother as a project piece. Any suggestions for a good axe for me in this price range? I know hasty decision are not best decisions, but I want to take advantage of a sale that ends tomorrow, so hasty answers that dont require more questions are best.....but feel free to ask in case I post back. I like the look of SGs and Strats. Im looking for passive pickups....Ive thought about actives, but the blackouts in passive gave me 85% of what I wanted from actives, and the melodic stuff sounded better in passive. |
| i would say go for the jackson. i love jacksons i have two but if you are planning on selling it in the future get the gibson. also the jackson is lower price, lower price = having guitar faster. and less time to get pickups. but if u want a suggestion Epiphone-Futura-Prophecy-Custom-FX-Ele… i would rather have that than either, and its the same price of the sg and with your pickups it will be sweet btw is the vypyr a good amp im going to get one soon and i want to knw ur opinion |