Make hurricane shutters. Daybed canopies

Make Hurricane Shutters

make hurricane shutters

    hurricane shutters
  • Hurricane coverings, commonly known as shutters, are used in hurricane mitigation to protect houses and other structures from damage caused by storms.

  • The manufacturer or trade name of a particular product

  • The making of electrical contact

  • engage in; "make love, not war"; "make an effort"; "do research"; "do nothing"; "make revolution"

  • The structure or composition of something

  • brand: a recognizable kind; "there's a new brand of hero in the movies now"; "what make of car is that?"

  • give certain properties to something; "get someone mad"; "She made us look silly"; "He made a fool of himself at the meeting"; "Don't make this into a big deal"; "This invention will make you a millionaire"; "Make yourself clear"

bury the cynics. (project365: dayTWENTY.)

bury the cynics. (project365: dayTWENTY.)

i had allll this written out and my cunting hand accidentally pressed the back button, AND IT WIPED IT ALL AWAY. here's the second, less inspired version.

this, obviously, was another of my loo shots, and i debated for ages on whether to post it or not. but i feel like pushing the envelope off the table, so here it is. MWAHAH. and this ...the only way i can describe it is a "mini loo", at the back of the house is my brothers', hence the wallpaper and towels all over the floor and all that decadence. but, it's the most secluded place in the house to shoot photos, so i frequent it often.

i'm listening to the momas and the papas, and by god, i don't care if john phillips is a rapist, their music is bloody good. :DD

three more.
one: i'm quite crude sometimes. bahahahahhahaha, i think most of you have caught a glimpse of it every now and again, but fucksake, sometimes it's terrible. i make more sex/ fap (wank)(masturbation)/ the conquering of virgins/ alcohol / dick /and so on, for ages - jokes than almost anyone i know. it's quite a common occurance to hear from me "with my massive penis..." and then something obscene. actually, just yesterday, i had the most..fantastic conversation with a mate of mine from back home, and he brings out the awful inside me! bahahahah, it's so bad, really, he's just like i am. these were said by either him or me (you'd be surprised on who said hat - or maybe not. :/), and it never, ever ends when we're together, it can get badbad.

""just explored the concept," fuck what? i had a wank, fool."
"i ate a small child with a gravy made of jizz."
"i'd smash her backdoor like window shutters in a hurricane."
chris: "right. when you come back, we're going to commit sodomy."
alixi: "YES. i've always wanted to penetrate your orifices with my gleaming schlong."

then in the middle of all that madness, he just starts laughing like a moron and goes, "alixi, you're insaaaaaane. and i bet you fuck like a crazed weasel."

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA. that made my life, it did. :DDDDD

and so on and so forth. and it's not like he's fourteen, he's 24 and doing quite well for himself in engineering. HA. regardless, i have very few girl friends, i have more male friends, as girls think i'm fucking weird. (can't imagine why.) you know, i didn't used to be like this at all, i was miss posh herself for ages. i blame the way i am on my AUNTIE, for sending me an offspring album when i was ten. and she knows it too! baahahahahhahahaha.

two: social activism is my passion in life; it's what i was made to do, i was formed for it entirely, of this i have no doubt. coming from a very feminist and progressive family (ie, mum, though she tries to hide behind the mask of conservative..ism(?) and christianity, she's as raging a liberal as i am. well - almost. HA.), i was taught my whole life that i can make a difference if i so wished to. as opposite as it sounds, i completely modeled myself after my mother, (subconsciously, obviously, when i was a child), her strength, her insanely large and dominating aura (but in a quiet way. like, "here's a sleeping lion who's not eaten in a week. don't poke it" aura) , her piercing stare, her ability to get shit done, the knowledge of "you can do it. don't doubt yourself, fool.", everything that people notice most about me, stems directly from her and her parenting. but back to my point, i was raised with the ability to get people to listen, and i shall.

for the longest time i wanted to do relief work, entirely, THAT was what i decided, (way back when i was fourteen, up until about a month ago, actually) to do with my life. but then i accepted the fact that, "fucksake, alixi, you're creative out the arse, writing is the passion of your life, that's as much a part of you as this, it's unfair to ignore it and shove it back." so i'm going to do something involving both, inextricably twined, as they already are to me. so, that's that.

three: erm. i write a lot. (as evident as above. HA! this really doesn't have anything to do with number three, i just noticed i'd written more than what 99.99999% of you people will read. :DDD) i'm a smartass, and i joke a lot, but underneath all that muck, i'm actually a very serious and contemplative person - i have a solemn soul - as someone once said to me. i'm not by any means faking all this, but there's a lot, a fucklot, more to me than smiles and laughs and funtimes. i prefer a fiery heart, a silently brooding creative force, an unrelenting, chaotic, excruciatingly painful passion to one's art over smiles anyday of the week.

(also. i have a disclaimer for number one. i do hope you all know i'm joking, i'm not really that much of a fuck, it's all in good fun, i don't actually conquer virgins or prowl or whatever else vile thing you think. i actually loat

"Twas the Night Before Christmas....

"Twas the Night Before Christmas....

.......... when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"


Peom by Clement Clark Moore

make hurricane shutters

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