Author has written 7 stories for Harry Potter, and Twilight.
"I'd tell you you shoot like a girl, but you're not that good."
Location: Colorado, USA.
Hair color: blonde/purple
Eye color: Green
Number of peircings: 17
Number of tattoos: 4
Hight: 5' 8 1/2"
Hobbies: Piano, archery, writing, reading, working out
Places I've lived: Rhode Island, Florida(twice), Colorado(three times)
C-Springs, the 719, the Springs, conservative Christian cesspool or the best city on earth: Whether you love it or hate it - and hey it's okay to hate it - here's a list you'll probably identify with.
You know you're from Colorado Springs when . . .
You get incredibly irritated at people who don't know how to turn left at the William Palmer statue.
You've lost entire weekends wasted/high at Garden of the Gods or Gold Camp Road.
You've never taken the train to the top of Pikes Peak . . . that's for tourists!
Your parents are out of town this weekend . . . in Cripple Creek.
You know who James Dobson is, and you either love him or hate him.
You've never thought twice about why Focus on the Family has its own highway sign.
You still talk about the Ted Haggard scandal.
Your graduation was at the World Arena.
You tried to be cool by hanging out at Pikes Perk and Coffee Roasters.
You did all your Christmas shopping at Entertainmart but are ashamed to tell anyone.
You know who lives in the Broadmoor area.
You buy weed from a kid . . . who lives in Widefield.
You've been pulled over on Powers.
You don't say I-25 . . . you say the "interestate" or the "i."
Your neighbors had their trash ransacked by a bear and you blame them for not locking it up.
You think it's weird when there's no construction on the interstate.
Someone in your family attends the Air Force Academy.
Someone in your family is in the military.
You want to have a cultural experience, so you go to Manitou for the day.
You know all the Democrats live on the West Side or in Manitou.
On Friday you wait in line for hours to get into the Vue/Rumbay/Eden, only to realize they're all pretty much the same club.
You take pure water and clean air for granted until you go out of town.
You go out of town and can't believe how many fat people you see.
When Tinseltown opened, it was a big deal.
You've been hit on by teenagers hanging out at the Citadel Mall.
People ask you what you do for fun around here and you answer, "Go to Denver."
You know who hangs out in Acacia Park.
When looking at the mountains, you can point out "The Scar."
You thought it was a practical joke when someone told you Michelle's closed.
You think of anyone who lives here and hasn't been to Fargo's pizza as uncultured.
You know there are plenty of locally owned restaurants downtown, but your family still insists on going to Chili's or Olive Garden for dinner.
You go to a mall in another city and are shocked at how, well, NICE it is.
You know your political parties as Republican, really Republican, conservative, and Californian.
If you weren't born here, you're probably from Texas or California.
You don't know who the mayor is.
You remember when you could ski at the Broadmoor.
You can pick out tourists in the summer by their purple cowboy hats, turquoise earrings and Southwestern ponchos.
You have been to a CC hockey game, regardless of how much you care.
You went to UCCS because CC was too expensive.
You worked at the Broadmoor and it was the worst experience of your life.
Your little brother had his birthday party at Mr. Bigg's.
You remember going to Laser Quest and Q-Zar as a kid.
You remember going to Skate City or Bosonova and dancing to the Macarena and YMCA.
You know who hangs out at Cowboys.
You know who William Palmer is, but you can't remember who Penrose or Stratton were.
The Olympic Training Center is not a big deal.
The statue of Humpty Dumpty and the Cowboy Reading the Newspaper downtown seem to be the extent of the local art scene.
You complain there is no music scene and someone protests that they saw a great cover band at the Thirsty Parrot last night, and if that ain't music then what was it!?
You have asked your friend who lives on Post to buy alcohol for you on a Sunday.
Your car has a yellow support the troops sticker, or three.
You drive a Suburban or an F150.
You've recently seen a car with those "bullet hole" stickers, or the car's brand emblazoned in Black-letters across the rear window.
You've been to Spring Spree.
You listen to Magic and hate the Beat, or you listen to the Beat and hate Magic, although they play 90 percent of the same songs.
You have had school canceled with less than two inches on the ground, but had to go in during a real blizzard.
You make fun of people who live in Pueblo, while people in Denver make fun of you.
You've never thought about why it's called Colorado Springs, even though there are no actual springs (except for some minor podunk holes in the ground).
You know who reads the Independent and who reads the Gazette.
You have a relative who lives in Pueblo or Greeley, but you avoid going to visit.
The Royal Gorge is just a big hole in the ground to you.
The vast expanse of land that used to be across the street from your family's house is now fully developed housing.
You partied at the High Life House and then the Everyday House.
You remember, and very much miss BOARDWALK, MOUNTASIA, JOYRIDES, Peter Piper Pizza, Beau Jo's, Harry's Pit BBQ, and the short-lived Krispy Kreme over by the Citadel.
Zeezo's and Halloween are synonymous.
Going to Wal-Mart is more like a class reunion (Widefield).
You know that if there is even the tiniest shred of doubt that you may not support the troops, you will be shunned.
Even though everyone says it's nasty, you've been to "the Vu." Maybe more than once.
You know that West is toward the mountains and East is away, and can't imagine any other navigation system.
If you went to Doherty, you thought Wasson was ghetto. If you went to Wasson, Mitchell was the ghetto. If you went to Mitchell, it was Sierra. If you went to Sierra . . . welcome to the effing ghetto, bitches.
If you went to Cheyenne or Air Academy, EVERYONE ELSE was ghetto and subsequently annihilated through your stellar sports teams.
You remember the old, tiny Bijou bridge and when trucks would crash into it, backing up traffic forever.
You're tired of having to abbreviate "Colorado Springs" on mail, or having it get cut to "Colorado Spri" on fill-in forms.
. . . because you just call it "The Springs" anyway
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Profile updated- June 7, 2012
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