Drawing 031738
One in 6 billion... so what?

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Page 6

Tried to leave a message, but the system just froze. Moderator, please leave a message about the current status of the youdraw project. It seems to be floating free or withering. I hope that I'm wrong.
larry a. - Thursday Jan 2 2014 at 11:10:44 (GMT)

I wish I had the money to buy it! I don't let people draw here- I just enjoy drawing- but I don't get back here very often..... I know its still moderated because sometimes the scribbles go... I wish things were happening with it- the posters were good a few years ago- maybe one of the moderators should contact Pete and ask what is happening?
cmb - Tuesday Nov 5 2013 at 23:12:42 (GMT)

i think youdraw was bought by cmb so the project has been droped. and she is just letting people just draw now for fun.
tapehead - Wednesday Oct 30 2013 at 16:48:43 (GMT)

IS THERE NO MEDIA INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT what about sky arts one i recently watched a programme about the million masterpiece project...has nyone who owns /operates this site courted the possibility I believe this project is unique and needs to be sold as such In My humble opinion this visionary work should be rolled out as wallpaper on billboards across the world ...just a thought
RJH WALES - Saturday Oct 26 2013 at 7:55:14 (GMT)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.' But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."' But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Friday Oct 18 2013 at 0:38:06 (GMT)

Red onion for color!
Sunday Sep 29 2013 at 22:04:16 (GMT)

looking down around the related area, I realize...that once again I am on the weird part of the internet
slimmy - Wednesday Sep 25 2013 at 20:24:04 (GMT)

where is youdraw doing
Sunday Sep 15 2013 at 21:38:01 (GMT)

does recipe call for white, yellow or vidalia onions? I want to get this right.
;-} - Friday Aug 2 2013 at 4:10:54 (GMT)

Hoot Owl Pie 1 Good sized cooked hoot owl, boned and chopped 1 Stalk celery, diced 1 Onion, chopped 1 tb Oil 10 oz Package frozen broccoli, cooked and drained 1 c Sour cream 10 1/2 oz Can cream of hoot owl soup Salt and pepper to taste Warm tortillas 1 1/2 c Hoot owl broth 1 c Grated rat cheese Mix the chopped owl, celery, onion, oil, cooked broccoli, sour cream, hoot owl soup, salt, and pepper together. Then you let them sit while you and the boys play "Never beat your Mother with a Great Big Stick." Be sure you don't play more than 6 choruses. Roll all of this stuff into the warm tortillas and place them in a baking dish. Then pour the hoot owl broth over them. You cook all of this stuff in a 325F oven for 20 minutes, or 3 choruses of "Dirty Me, Dirty Me, Oh How I Hate Myself." Make sure the onions are done. Then the last 5 minutes of cooking, place the grated rat cheese on top. Dish out the warm tortillas and hot sauce. Now then, if the moon is in the "getgone" and the wind blows in snuffs, there ain't goin' to be no hoot owls. In that case, you get Ernest T. Bass to steal you a good sized chicken and ya put that in instead. If you do that, while the chicken is cookin' you get the boys and play 6 choruses of "Don't Dance on the Table Charlene You Stepped in My Collard Greens." Serves 6.
Wednesday Jul 24 2013 at 15:37:03 (GMT)