Helga can fix an iPod that was Steve Jobs’ work, except she struggles to help Eliza and Eliza has broken into pieces and Helga, she has all of the tools in North America, except these tools won’t work on Eliza—she’s human.
“It’s a fixer upper, ya know, a little mix and match always builds character.” Said the realtor a little too cheerfully.
I looked at the prospect of building a life here, “Yeah, I’m going to pass. And it’s not that I don’t agree with some of what you said, but it’s got bad vibes, plain and simple.”
The realtor’s eyes narrowed on me suspiciously, “Why, what have you heard?”
My gaze did not falter, “Everything I need to it seems. Look, I’m changing my market so I’m sorry to have wasted your time. But thank you for showing me around, I appreciate the effort.”
“What’s it like living with the “4 Dorks” as you like to call them?” A fan laughed as she asked me.
“It’s very tough but you get used to it.” I replied as we both laughed.
“Well be careful. Some girls looks can kill.” Her friend warned me. “She met Luke at a friendly mixer and tried to be a little more than friendly.”
“Well as long as Luke stays out of trouble with her I’m fine. I trust him but he still won’t hear the last of this. Thanks!” I exclaimed, as I glared at the deadly girl while I walked away.
It looked like a normal electric hand mixer, but it was so much more. It was a symbol. Silly I know, but this battered old mixer was a symbol of our life together. It was one if the first “appliances” we had bought as a married couple.
I remember the mixer where I met the girl from the rich girls’ boarding school down by the river. Somebody said they were all the daughters of diplomats. It was the first time I slow danced with a girl, it was the end of the dance, the last song, and I held her close. I had never felt that close to a girl before. Then I kissed her at the end, and I promised her I’d call. I never did.
mixer the way it was in high school with boys and girls at the dances and the boys were all standing against the wall and i remember one mixer with a band who thought they were the rolling stones the lead singer had long hair and danced around in a very feminine manner and the guys were yelling at him yelling faggot. It was 1969.
The mixer was driving her crazy!!! “Why won’t this thing stop back shooting! Every time it does it shoots dirt all over me! Uugghhh”.
Finally he came and took apart the trigger operation and fixed the spring. She walked back with a clean top and started again. Oh how thankful she was! No more dirt; in her face!!
I love to bake. A lot of the time I use a mixer to make the dough. I love the mixer. It makes every thing easier. Baking is so much fun! It is what I like to do on my free time.
I want him shaken and stirred
with purpose.
Salted with flavor and full of life-
never in danger of falling in the rocks below but
always rising above.
at the club the other night it was an all night mixer it was the men against the women the boys against the girls everyone holding hands and it was clear as day that something was about to happen no one
Morris had not even applied for the job. Although the selection process for those who would colonise the new world was immensely complicated, and totally secret, his selection had been remarkably simple, and almost accidental. He had met an admiral at a party some weeks before, and was called the next day and told of his assignment. When he asked why, the admiral had merely responded that he was “a good mixer, a pleasant person to talk to”. He had wondered why such social skills were important for the mission he faced, but now that they were under way, with four thousand people in his charge, he understood. He had been assigned the control of not only the most advanced spaceship that mankind had ever built, but also the control of the four thousand souls who traveled on her.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” I said.
“Why? What are you afraid of?” asked my companion.
“I’ve heard stuff about what goes on at these things,” I replied.
“It’s just a party,” my friend sighed. “They just call it a mixer because…”
Darnel smiled hard as he shook hands with the brothers. His jokes were timed perfectly and they all seemed to get a real kick out of them He left the mixer feeling confident. He had the GPA, money, and personality to be a SAE brother. But when invites when out the following day, he did not receive one and he wondered whether they had been laughing with him or at him.
It stared slow, a few people showing up with bottles of wine, but by the time she stumbled out of her 4 inch heels, cocktail in hand there was an urgency in the crowd. If she didn’t do something soon it would explode.
What a strange word. If I tell you what it used to mean to me, then you’ll say, “How the hell old is that?” Well, let’s just say that in my mother’s time, a mixer was a dance where you got a chance to actually hold someone one of the opposite sex and dance. It was usually to a live band, except the guys in the band were always way more interesting than the guys who asked you to dance.
He was standing over there but all I could do was gawk. I hung by the wall and hoped for my friend Alyssa to be as tired as I was and want to go back to our dorm. He was chatting with I presumed was his girlfriend, afterall guys like that were never single. He was standing over there, and I was across the room. I was a nobody for sure, not someone that usually stood out. He was standing over there, and I could never sum up the courage to go and stand over there with him.
mix mix mixed. Everything in my head mixes, mingles, merges. In the mixing they acquire new identities. They become other things. But I don’t want to mix. I want to be pure, i’d like my light to shine un mixed. Everything else can mix. But I will be still.
mix all of the ideas in my head mix. they mingle and fuck me up- all the projects in a pot. mix them. will it be a smoothy? is my life a smoothy. I want to live unmixed. with my light shining pure between the cracks. and everything else can do it wants.
The mixer didn’t work yesterday, and my daughter needed a cake for the school charity fair. Should I mix the cake manually or buy one at the store? be a super mom or risk just being a mediocre one? what a conflict.
the story about everyone needing their other half is bullshit. you’re already a whole by yourself. you don’t need anything to make you complete. you just make more wholes with other people. like you’re a piece of candy and all of you get put together in all sorts of numbers to fill packets and jars and liquorice allsorts (I’m not european so I have no idea what those taste like though)
I have always been interested in the business of coffee and blenders, all those things I thought would have been an excellent thing to learn in a place like starbucks, or something. For at least to know something about coffee.
Im getting my feelings all mixed up. I think i have a crush or something more than a crush on my best friend, but i dont know. I saw her today with ________ and it made me really jealous for some reason. But she isnt my girl or anything i just. Care for her so much and i think i love her. I never want to let her go when we hug.
I threw all the ingredients into the bowl the mixer whirled away mixing it all together. After a few minutes in the oven my biscuits were done but burnt. :(
I threw in the ice cubes and yogurt into the mixer and flicked it on. The mixer roared with a terrifying racket and a spoon ricocheted into the air. (based on a true story…)
Saturday morning jumped out of bed, put on my socks and shoes. Got out of house then to the market to buy me some fruits and foods. ‘Coz I’m a vegetarian now, ladies and gentlemen this isn’t a joke. Got to my house so fast all the way to the kitchen mixer to mix my very awesome breakfast!
The mixer whirred as the cookie dough took shape under Martha’s skillful hands. “If we hurry,” she said, “we’ll have time to let them cool before we take them to the king.” I gulped, nervously anticipating the fateful delivery. Would we be caught? “How long does it take for the poison to act?” I inquired.
I like to use natural juice as a mixer for cocktails—lime, lemon, cranberry, grapefruit are all common. Try mango, papaya and pomegranete. They’re all delicious—especially with vodka!
I publicized a “mixer” type event a couple of weeks ago. I work at a marketing agency and much of my job is in the digital space. The mixer involved healthcare and technology; although I didn’t attend, the pictures and description of the event were very inviting. I like the concept of the “mixer”. Wine and robotic technology- very fun!
So we were at a mixer the other night, and there were two girls just staring at us the whole time. Like, non-blinking, eyes-bugging, legitimate, bona fide staring. I remember we went to the bar to get ourselves some martinis, and one of the girls with the never ending gaze just tapped me on the shoulder – right on the sore spot, too, where I had just gotten a fresh tetanus shot – and she asked me:
“Do you like your women like you like your martinis?”
I didn’t know how to answer. “Uh, you mean dry and with olives?”
Slowly he adds pigment to the white plastic pallet next to him from vivid bottles, he’s almost too precise in the basic measurements. Then he picks up a ratty little brush, nothing more than a handle now, and mixes them together as though they will soon be exactly what he is looking for – effortlessly, the way everything else in his life has been. This is exactly why she refers to him as the mixer of emotion.
He looked down at the Mixer looked at the drink and though of what he had put in so he would not tast it how his life was worth nothing how was so depressed how his wife died ad his son how he was angry with God how he wish he could have died with them.
I say now if you are going though hard times there is one person that will never leave you nor forsake you he will always love you his name is jesus he loves you he wants to be with you all you have to do is accepect the free gift he gave you when he died on the cross and came back to life on the third day. He is knocking on your door all you have to do is let him in if you feel butterflys in your in your stomach that him knocking on your door if you want to let him in pray this prayer with me dear jesus i thank you that you died on the cross for me i thank you that you forgave me of my sins i ask you in to my heart that you would take over my life and steer the boat lord amen if you belIeve in your heart that he is your lord and savery then you have just given your life to Jesus.
the mixer was broken. Again. We had to go to the store and buy a new one, but Jen kept insisting she could fix it. And sure, she could. For about one hour, then it broke again. I was considering just going out and getting a new one without telling her, sneaking the old one away before she could notice. Hell, I could even get one of the same type, she’d never notice, and it would be grat for her self confidence
Helga can fix an iPod that was Steve Jobs’ work, except she struggles to help Eliza and Eliza has broken into pieces and Helga, she has all of the tools in North America, except these tools won’t work on Eliza—she’s human.
put up the mixer and stay focused. Stay focused on the turbulence inside it, when things come in and become uniform, uniform from the sharp disorder.
“It’s a fixer upper, ya know, a little mix and match always builds character.” Said the realtor a little too cheerfully.
I looked at the prospect of building a life here, “Yeah, I’m going to pass. And it’s not that I don’t agree with some of what you said, but it’s got bad vibes, plain and simple.”
The realtor’s eyes narrowed on me suspiciously, “Why, what have you heard?”
My gaze did not falter, “Everything I need to it seems. Look, I’m changing my market so I’m sorry to have wasted your time. But thank you for showing me around, I appreciate the effort.”
“What’s it like living with the “4 Dorks” as you like to call them?” A fan laughed as she asked me.
“It’s very tough but you get used to it.” I replied as we both laughed.
“Well be careful. Some girls looks can kill.” Her friend warned me. “She met Luke at a friendly mixer and tried to be a little more than friendly.”
“Well as long as Luke stays out of trouble with her I’m fine. I trust him but he still won’t hear the last of this. Thanks!” I exclaimed, as I glared at the deadly girl while I walked away.
It looked like a normal electric hand mixer, but it was so much more. It was a symbol. Silly I know, but this battered old mixer was a symbol of our life together. It was one if the first “appliances” we had bought as a married couple.
In my foggier days
I once fell into a mixer,
where I was tossed about
a crowd of strangers
drinking cocktails
and turning down hors d’ouevres.
I remember the mixer where I met the girl from the rich girls’ boarding school down by the river. Somebody said they were all the daughters of diplomats. It was the first time I slow danced with a girl, it was the end of the dance, the last song, and I held her close. I had never felt that close to a girl before. Then I kissed her at the end, and I promised her I’d call. I never did.
mixer the way it was in high school with boys and girls at the dances and the boys were all standing against the wall and i remember one mixer with a band who thought they were the rolling stones the lead singer had long hair and danced around in a very feminine manner and the guys were yelling at him yelling faggot. It was 1969.
The mixer was driving her crazy!!! “Why won’t this thing stop back shooting! Every time it does it shoots dirt all over me! Uugghhh”.
Finally he came and took apart the trigger operation and fixed the spring. She walked back with a clean top and started again. Oh how thankful she was! No more dirt; in her face!!
That’s good enough, you can stop now you’v worked the mixer hard to day. Thank you I’m out of here!
I love to bake. A lot of the time I use a mixer to make the dough. I love the mixer. It makes every thing easier. Baking is so much fun! It is what I like to do on my free time.
-Gummy Worm
I want him shaken and stirred
with purpose.
Salted with flavor and full of life-
never in danger of falling in the rocks below but
always rising above.
at the club the other night it was an all night mixer it was the men against the women the boys against the girls everyone holding hands and it was clear as day that something was about to happen no one
Morris had not even applied for the job. Although the selection process for those who would colonise the new world was immensely complicated, and totally secret, his selection had been remarkably simple, and almost accidental. He had met an admiral at a party some weeks before, and was called the next day and told of his assignment. When he asked why, the admiral had merely responded that he was “a good mixer, a pleasant person to talk to”. He had wondered why such social skills were important for the mission he faced, but now that they were under way, with four thousand people in his charge, he understood. He had been assigned the control of not only the most advanced spaceship that mankind had ever built, but also the control of the four thousand souls who traveled on her.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” I said.
“Why? What are you afraid of?” asked my companion.
“I’ve heard stuff about what goes on at these things,” I replied.
“It’s just a party,” my friend sighed. “They just call it a mixer because…”
Darnel smiled hard as he shook hands with the brothers. His jokes were timed perfectly and they all seemed to get a real kick out of them He left the mixer feeling confident. He had the GPA, money, and personality to be a SAE brother. But when invites when out the following day, he did not receive one and he wondered whether they had been laughing with him or at him.
It stared slow, a few people showing up with bottles of wine, but by the time she stumbled out of her 4 inch heels, cocktail in hand there was an urgency in the crowd. If she didn’t do something soon it would explode.
What a strange word. If I tell you what it used to mean to me, then you’ll say, “How the hell old is that?” Well, let’s just say that in my mother’s time, a mixer was a dance where you got a chance to actually hold someone one of the opposite sex and dance. It was usually to a live band, except the guys in the band were always way more interesting than the guys who asked you to dance.
He was standing over there but all I could do was gawk. I hung by the wall and hoped for my friend Alyssa to be as tired as I was and want to go back to our dorm. He was chatting with I presumed was his girlfriend, afterall guys like that were never single. He was standing over there, and I was across the room. I was a nobody for sure, not someone that usually stood out. He was standing over there, and I could never sum up the courage to go and stand over there with him.
mix mix mixed. Everything in my head mixes, mingles, merges. In the mixing they acquire new identities. They become other things. But I don’t want to mix. I want to be pure, i’d like my light to shine un mixed. Everything else can mix. But I will be still.
mix all of the ideas in my head mix. they mingle and fuck me up- all the projects in a pot. mix them. will it be a smoothy? is my life a smoothy. I want to live unmixed. with my light shining pure between the cracks. and everything else can do it wants.
The mixer didn’t work yesterday, and my daughter needed a cake for the school charity fair. Should I mix the cake manually or buy one at the store? be a super mom or risk just being a mediocre one? what a conflict.
the story about everyone needing their other half is bullshit. you’re already a whole by yourself. you don’t need anything to make you complete. you just make more wholes with other people. like you’re a piece of candy and all of you get put together in all sorts of numbers to fill packets and jars and liquorice allsorts (I’m not european so I have no idea what those taste like though)
I have always been interested in the business of coffee and blenders, all those things I thought would have been an excellent thing to learn in a place like starbucks, or something. For at least to know something about coffee.
Im getting my feelings all mixed up. I think i have a crush or something more than a crush on my best friend, but i dont know. I saw her today with ________ and it made me really jealous for some reason. But she isnt my girl or anything i just. Care for her so much and i think i love her. I never want to let her go when we hug.
I threw all the ingredients into the bowl the mixer whirled away mixing it all together. After a few minutes in the oven my biscuits were done but burnt. :(
I threw all the ingredients into the bowl the mixer whirled away mixing it all together.
I was baking and the mixer mixed the ingredients up and yeah
mixes things in a pot or bowl or something
rsw
I threw in the ice cubes and yogurt into the mixer and flicked it on. The mixer roared with a terrifying racket and a spoon ricocheted into the air. (based on a true story…)
Saturday morning jumped out of bed, put on my socks and shoes. Got out of house then to the market to buy me some fruits and foods. ‘Coz I’m a vegetarian now, ladies and gentlemen this isn’t a joke. Got to my house so fast all the way to the kitchen mixer to mix my very awesome breakfast!
The mixer whirred as the cookie dough took shape under Martha’s skillful hands. “If we hurry,” she said, “we’ll have time to let them cool before we take them to the king.” I gulped, nervously anticipating the fateful delivery. Would we be caught? “How long does it take for the poison to act?” I inquired.
I like to use natural juice as a mixer for cocktails—lime, lemon, cranberry, grapefruit are all common. Try mango, papaya and pomegranete. They’re all delicious—especially with vodka!
I publicized a “mixer” type event a couple of weeks ago. I work at a marketing agency and much of my job is in the digital space. The mixer involved healthcare and technology; although I didn’t attend, the pictures and description of the event were very inviting. I like the concept of the “mixer”. Wine and robotic technology- very fun!
So we were at a mixer the other night, and there were two girls just staring at us the whole time. Like, non-blinking, eyes-bugging, legitimate, bona fide staring. I remember we went to the bar to get ourselves some martinis, and one of the girls with the never ending gaze just tapped me on the shoulder – right on the sore spot, too, where I had just gotten a fresh tetanus shot – and she asked me:
“Do you like your women like you like your martinis?”
I didn’t know how to answer. “Uh, you mean dry and with olives?”
Slowly he adds pigment to the white plastic pallet next to him from vivid bottles, he’s almost too precise in the basic measurements. Then he picks up a ratty little brush, nothing more than a handle now, and mixes them together as though they will soon be exactly what he is looking for – effortlessly, the way everything else in his life has been. This is exactly why she refers to him as the mixer of emotion.
He looked down at the Mixer looked at the drink and though of what he had put in so he would not tast it how his life was worth nothing how was so depressed how his wife died ad his son how he was angry with God how he wish he could have died with them.
I say now if you are going though hard times there is one person that will never leave you nor forsake you he will always love you his name is jesus he loves you he wants to be with you all you have to do is accepect the free gift he gave you when he died on the cross and came back to life on the third day. He is knocking on your door all you have to do is let him in if you feel butterflys in your in your stomach that him knocking on your door if you want to let him in pray this prayer with me dear jesus i thank you that you died on the cross for me i thank you that you forgave me of my sins i ask you in to my heart that you would take over my life and steer the boat lord amen if you belIeve in your heart that he is your lord and savery then you have just given your life to Jesus.
the mixer was broken. Again. We had to go to the store and buy a new one, but Jen kept insisting she could fix it. And sure, she could. For about one hour, then it broke again. I was considering just going out and getting a new one without telling her, sneaking the old one away before she could notice. Hell, I could even get one of the same type, she’d never notice, and it would be grat for her self confidence