=masked-racoon

is...an upside down panda?

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About Me Official Beta Tester Comedy Writer Max18/Male/Australia

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#Feature-Folk

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^{Note: Click on the names to get sent to the said page.}
List of collections: _{Awesome Art
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Leave a comment on my main page if you have any queries or questions.
-Max}

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faucet dripping star necklace_
by `bleedsopretty

green cassette necklace_
by `bleedsopretty

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Eye tutorial - in color
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^{^{I'm gonna try and feature at least one new deviant here every week.}}
Featured Deviants:

Name: ~viridis-somnio

Reason for feature: [link] Nuff said.

Examples of Work:

Name: ~captaincabbage

Reason for feature: None

Examples of Work:

Name: =interseting

Reason for feature: Awesomeness

Examples of Work:

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Welcome:
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All ya do is click on the things in bold_{(except the titles)} and you'll get flown to the subject. Isn't it amazing what the internet can do?
Wowza. Anywho, have fun, and if you have any problems or questions don't hesitate to note me
Have fun

=masked-racoon

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_{If you have anything else you think should be up here to help new and experienced deviants alike then please comment on my page or (preferably) note me}

Update_1

Journal Entry: Mon Dec 21, 2009, 5:05 AM

I miss my keyboard :/

Anywho, arrived in one peice now let us find out what I have been up to

Day 1:
Plane trip was the worst thing ever, without a doubt. It has been over twenty hours since we left Melbourne at nine in the morning. I have not slept in about two days so please excuse any lack of poetry. I jumped out of the bed I had not been able to sleep in at half passed five and we were out of the house by six thirty. Many hours and security checks later we jumped onto our first of two planes, off to Sydney with Virgin Blue. Two hours of mild boredom wasn’t too bad. No food was present and the TVs were all switched off unless we forked over $20… yeh, we went without. We arrived at Sydney in one piece and in good cheer (a family first). Me and my brother passed a good twenty minutes trying to figure out if this one man was going to Japan (my thought) or Germany (Lewis’s). It turns out that he was planning on doing a tour of Southern Europe and was now heading off to Asia. Much arguing was had as to whether I had been more correct or my brother had. Afterwards we visited a café and caught fire in the Sydney sun. I cannot understand how anyone could live in such a place. Our stay in Sydney was brief (less than two hours). Too soon did we have to wave goodbye to legroom and embrace the way of AirAustral. AirAustral is perhaps the worst airline I’ve ever been on, and I’ve been on a plane that cost only $270… the plane, not the ticket. The flight was long. I spent twelve and a half hours sitting in the dark, cradling not only my mother and brother but my grumbling stomach, for two “meals” in twenty hours was not enough. The observant reader may notice the quotation marks around meal. Mystery stew and a cracker does not make a dinner, half a croissant and a cracker does not make breakfast and those two combine does not make a happy Max. What it does make is a hungry, sick, tired, sore, grumpy Max covered in bruises and riddled with cramps that would make even Prometheus cringe. The only satisfaction I got from the trip were two things. One, the fact I got to drink Oringina which is a drink I had long forgotten since my time in France nine years ago. The second was a air steward who looked just like David Becham. I spent more time that I’d like to admit imagining this Froggish football look a like saving me from the hellish trip… I may have turned gay during the flight. By the end of it during the final decent I was completely straight again, even though I was heard saying on “the texture of this drink is devine”. The airhostess’ spent a lot of time avoiding me which I found out was due to the fact my mother had said I was Autistic. This would have been riotous fun had they spoken English as well as most. So in the end they thought I had some sort of mad cowesque disease and therefore did not yell at me for having my table tray down. The city of St Dennis ( “sa Denny” ) was an field of twinkling fairy light from our lofty viewpoint and was certainly a pleasant change to the endless waters we’d been forced to view. As we drew closer it became increasingly obvious that we were not in Kansis anymore, one of the more obvious hints was the volcano that seems to take up 90% of the island. Upon landing at La Reunion at 7PM(ish) we rushed towards the baggage hold, eager to receive our luxuries again and I experienced a mild shock. There were black people. Now I’m not talking about London black people, where there’s about twenty of ‘em looking badass and I’m not talking about Kenyian black people, where they form throngs of aimless begging. I’m talking about a bunch of black people that were just… people. This was a first for me, a country where there really was no difference between the black population and the white one. After many suspicious looks from the locals for my gawking we decided to grab our bags and leave. Once in the airport lobby we found Jean-Phillip and his family, well actually they found us. I was relived to find that they spoke English better than they wrote it, having had several odd conversations with their son Loui over email. We headed to their car and Jean-Phillip’s wife Christine told us all about the island, pointing out where we’d be visiting on passing posters. Splitting up we took two cars back to there house. The trip took an hour and mum fell asleep twice during. I was far too busy ogling the sights and sounds of this beautiful place. The whole mountain side was glittering with lights as we drove through St Dennis. The architecture, despite technically being IN France is surprisingly Spanish. This place is a 1st world country but it doesn’t look like New York or Tokyo, it’s simple and bright. Odd. We finally arrived at their house in St Peirre ( “Sa peyair” ) and my god was it stunning. It looked just like a house from a pamphlet, but this was much, much better. Palm trees and roses fill the garden, well the bits not taken up by the cool blue pool or the Hindu shrine. Photo will be taken. After a drink and a chat we all headed off to bed, Lewis (my brother) having grabbed the cat Jean-Peirre and not getting bitten, what an amazing island this is.

Day 2:
It’s hot. It’s the tropics and it’s hot. I should’ve seen it coming but I didn’t and now I am hot. The heat and the humidity make me wish we’d perhaps chosen Finland as our holiday destination. My eyes are bombarded with the bright sun and bright colours of this idyllic island paradise, but I don’t have the time to take in the sights or the sounds just yet, oh my no. For now, is the time for planning and plan we did, two and a half hours looking at maps, books, pamphlets and charts. Jean-Phillip really planned ahead. At the end of it we only have one day without a planned activity or two. I foolishly have signed myself up for “Canyoneering” which as far as I can gather is a combination of rock climbing and white water rafting but without the raft. One of the other activities will give AirAustral a run for it’s money as worst experience ever. A three day activity. To be precise, a three day walk up a volcano or two or three or four. This may just be the death of Max or at least for my feet which I’m sure will be nothing but bloody stumps if I return. During the next fifteen minutes I got in the pool, watched Lewis do flips, played Marco Polo, took too many photos of Le cat and got a horrible sunburn. Yep, fifteen mins and I’ve got shoulders the shade of a very embarrassed lobster. To make matters worse it was decided that now was the time to visit their supposedly famous “Black Sand Beach”. It takes thirty minutes to get there but it’s worth it. The sand is warm and dark, an odd combination. It turns out the sand is so dark from all the iron and volcanic ash in it. I spend most of my time in the warm waters, gazing up at the looming mountain while floating along on a body board. An hour and four stubbed toes later (well, one toe stubbed four times) and we’re out. Back to the villa but first an ice-cream and some beer. Once back at the house we are surprised to see a feast laid out upon the table for us, Jean-Phillip and Loui had snuck home and set it all up. We dug in whole heartedly to the curried meal not realising that this was only starters. By the time we’d finished the meal we were stuffed and then some more, we’ve all learned to pace ourselves from now on with French meals. Photos, French TV, pool and off to bed. This day has been magnificent.

Day 3:
Everyone left. I cannot go snorkelling with the others because of my sunburn which is agony. So instead I sit here writing in my journal, writing short stories about children with pudding and writing Christmas letters to my girls. I also lost a bet with dad, I bet him an ice-cream that I could connect to the internet in five minutes. Christine has just informed me that there is a password on it. Dad will pay.

So, time to stop talking about it and start living it again.
I will try and get on again soon.

Merry Christmas all

,
_-Max

Oh, Christmas cards are coming your way =minimidna and ~skittle-eatin-cat