Domestic Violets [NOOK Book]

Overview

Tom Violet always thought that by the time he turned thirty-five, he’d have everything going for him. Fame. Fortune. A beautiful wife. A satisfying career as a successful novelist. A happy dog to greet him at the end of the day.

The reality, though, is far different. He’s got a wife, but their problems are bigger than he can even imagine. And he’s written a novel, but the manuscript he’s slaved over for years is currently hidden in his desk drawer while his father, an actual ...

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Domestic Violets

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Overview

Tom Violet always thought that by the time he turned thirty-five, he’d have everything going for him. Fame. Fortune. A beautiful wife. A satisfying career as a successful novelist. A happy dog to greet him at the end of the day.

The reality, though, is far different. He’s got a wife, but their problems are bigger than he can even imagine. And he’s written a novel, but the manuscript he’s slaved over for years is currently hidden in his desk drawer while his father, an actual famous writer, just won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. His career, such that it is, involves mind-numbing corporate buzzwords, his pretentious archnemesis Gregory, and a hopeless, completely inappropriate crush on his favorite coworker. Oh . . . and his dog, according to the vet, is suffering from acute anxiety.

Tom’s life is crushing his soul, but he’s decided to do something about it. (Really.) Domestic Violets is the brilliant and beguiling story of a man finally taking control of his own happiness—even if it means making a complete idiot of himself along the way.

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Editorial Reviews

John Wilwol
All this misery makes for good comedy, especially when Norman goes after corporate culture.
—The Washington Post
Publishers Weekly
This debut comedic novel takes on the corporate machine, the literary machine, adultery, family, and dogs with anxiety disorders. Tom Violet is the son of charming literary superstar Curtis Violet, who shows up in the middle of the night to tell Tom that he's divorcing again and moving in with Tom, his wife, and 13-year-old daughter. (It's technically Curtis's house since he paid for it.) Tom has his own problems: "mild" erectile dysfunction (according to the Internet), a crush on a young woman who works with at his company that "helps other companies be better companies," his secret shelved novel, and his neurotic dog. When Curtis wins the Pulitzer Prize, Tom's feelings of inadequacy go into free fall, but the laughs keep coming. Norman controls his complicated story and handles its chaos and plot twists with a steady, funny hand. Despite a heavy reliance on pop-culture references and some stock characters—the pompous writer, his tough agent, the trophy wife—this is a thoroughly entertaining, light but thoughtful read. (Aug.)
New York Journal of Books
“Timing, so important in comedy, is also exacting in Mr. Norman’s expert hands...Domestic Violets leaves the reader satisfied by the intriguing plot written in a comic spirit; it also endears the author and hero to the reader for maximum poignancy.”
Shelf Awareness
“Norman’s debut novel is funny and incisive, and hard on sacred cows.”
Booklist
“Reminiscent of Richard Russo’s earlier work, Norman’s refreshingly witty style is perfectly suited to articulating the trials of a middle-aged cynic. Wonderfully fast-paced, hilariously genuine, difficult to put down, Domestic Violets is an ideal first novel.”
Jessica Anya Blau
“Domestic Violets is a fast, fun, hilarious read.”
Susan Richards Shreve
“Domestic Violets is a wonderfully readable, riotous story... told with humor and surprising intimacy. ”
Joshua Gaylord
“Matthew Norman has written a dastardly fun satire of contemporary domestic life [with} surprising twists on all the old conventions and a fresh perspective on a literary foundation that hearkens back to Philip Roth, John Updike and John Cheever. An astoundingly good read!”
Susan K. Perry
“so real, so funny”
Washington Post on DOMESTIC VIOLETS
“All this misery makes for good comedy … charmingly drawn …”
Washington Independent Review of Books on DOMESTIC VIOLETS
“Norman’s hilarious debut novel is a tale of a man’s middle-age quest to differentiate himself from his father and decide what’s worth changing and what’s worth keeping in his life.”
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780062065124
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 8/9/2011
  • Sold by: HARPERCOLLINS
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 352
  • Sales rank: 212,588
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author

Matthew Norman is an advertising copywriter. He lives with his wife and daughter in Baltimore. Domestic Violets is his first novel.

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Read an Excerpt

Domestic Violets

A Novel
By Matthew Norman

Harper Perennial

Copyright © 2011 Matthew Norman
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780062065117


Chapter One

I splash cold water on my face.
This is what men in movies do when they're about to fly off
the handle, when shit is getting out of control. I do this sometimes.
I react to things based on what characters in movies would do.
That's kind of ironic, considering I've always thought of myself as
a book person.
At least I think that's ironic. That word gets misused a lot.
The water isn't refreshing like it's supposed to be. It's ice-cold
and I gasp. As it swirls into a little cyclone on its way down the
drain, I look in the mirror, ashamed and angry at myself.
There's something wrong. With my penis.
It's been an unpredictable thing for a while now, my shlong, all
flighty and unreliable like some stoner uncle who shows up
hammered at Thanksgiving and forgets your name.
The guy I see in the mirror, Tom Violet, the same lanky,
moody bastard I've been looking at for almost thirty-six years
now, looks . . . old. The fact that I'm naked certainly isn't helping.
Like most men who are not Brad Pitt, I could do without the sight
of my own nudity. Back in the day I was a long-distance runner,
all streamlined and put together. Now I'm flabby-thin, the way a
fat guy might look after a year in an internment camp. Worse, the
hair on my chest is overgrown and dark against my pale skin and
I wonder if I should be one of those guys who shaves his chest.
Maybe that would help.
Of course it wouldn't help. That's not the problem. The problem,
still, is my broken wang.
I look at it in the mirror, really look at it, and it, too, appears
ashamed. It's shriveled up into itself, like an infant's thingy. I close
my eyes and touch it, and then I squeeze it, just to try to get something
going. I think of my wife. She's lying in bed, not twenty feet
away, in a red thing from Victoria's Secret—just "a fun little thing"
she picked up. I actually think that's the problem. Lingerie screams
of effort. It screams of forced intimacy and the fact that we both
know she's probably ovulating. We did the math this week. What
I need to do is to sneak up on sex. For some strange reason, thinking
about getting an erection makes it fucking impossible to get an
erection. I tried to explain this to Anna a few weeks ago, but she
didn't get it. I don't blame her. It's a very abstract concept.
Maybe it's the economy. Personal and global financial ruin
could cause boner problems, right?
Sadly, no. This all started happening before the world ended. I'll
have to come up with another excuse.
And so I stroke on, like a fool, like a caged monkey masturbating
in front of a horrified troop of Cub Scouts at the zoo. There's a
sensation, like a phantom tingling somewhere in my stomach, but
then there's nothing again, and I begin to think about the cruelties
of aging. In my carefree youth, sitting in Catholic school, I
couldn't go more than twenty minutes without popping a painful,
trouser-lifting boner. Now, with the prospect of actual sex in the
other room, I've got nothing. Zilch.
How many perfectly good hard-ons have I wasted in my short,
stupid life? Hundreds? Probably thousands if you count college.
It's just not fair.
Finally, I turn off the faucet and give up. In the silent bathroom,
I give my lifeless manhood one last pleading look and then open
the door.
Anna is still in her Victoria's Secret thing, but she's de-sexed it a
little by putting on her reading glasses. She's stretched out on our
bed reading a New Yorker by the light of one of the candles she's set
up. I've been trying to jerk myself back to life. She's been reading
"Talk of the Town."
The stereo is still on, too. It's playing some CD of classical music
fused with nature sounds. It's supposed to be relaxing or soothing
or God knows what. But, of course, it's just more effort, more
unnatural things added to what's supposed to be the most natural
thing in the world.
Our dog, Hank, is skilled at sensing anxiety in a room. He's
sitting on the floor on one of his dog mats. He's one of those dogs
that always seems to be bracing himself for the worst.
Anna smiles and sits up. "Hi," she says. Her legs on our powder
blue sheets are long and toned and treadmill-ready. She's beautiful,
my wife, I recognize this, but my body is somehow rejecting this
fact along with all of its sexual implications. If the nineteen-year-
old version of Tom Violet were here in this room, he'd slap the
thirty-five-year-old version of Tom Violet across the face in utter
disgust.
Three nights ago, after our last failed attempt at this, I woke
up in the middle of the night to Anna moaning quietly next to
me. At first I didn't know what was going on, and then I realized
that she was having a sex dream. In eight years of sleeping beside
her nightly, I'd never heard anything like that. As I listened to her
whisper her way toward a soft, muted little orgasm, I realized that
we had a real problem.
I put on a pair of boxers and slide into bed next to her. She rolls
over onto her side and looks at me. Her small breasts are vivid
against all that silk or satin or whatever those things from
Victoria's Secret are made out of. "You OK?" she asks. Her voice has
taken on this funeral like tone, which feels absurd and completely
accurate.
I sigh and listen to the music and the sound of some whale or
dolphin in the ocean. "No," I say. "I'm obviously not."
"It's not a big deal, you know. It . . . happens."
This is what women say in these scenes to the men they love.
Her eyes and her face are sweet and concerned for me, but there's
enough tension in her voice to know that she's just reading from
the script. It might not have been a big deal the first time, or even
the sixth time, but it's a big deal now, and I wonder what the man
in her head looked like who inspired those little noises the other
night. Like me with a shaved chest, perhaps—or, at the very least,
like me with a fully functioning penis?
"I don't know what's the matter with me."
She takes off her glasses and sets them on the nightstand.
Over the sheets, she rubs my knee, and then she inches a little
closer. "Maybe you're just—" but she leaves this hanging. Like
me, she doesn't seem to know exactly what it is that I am. I look
down at her feet, and her toenails are painted red. This is some-
thing new for her. Her feet are typically very functional things,
but lately they're lotioned and cared for. This simple act of pure
femininity would probably be enough to turn the nineteen-year-
old version of Tom Violet into a sex-crazed idiot. But here I am,
dejected and lustless.
I don't want to talk about my penis, but I don't want to blow out
the candles and roll over, either. I'm vulnerable, yet simultaneously
guarded. I want Anna to hold me and tell me that she loves me,
but I also want to sleep in the guest room. I'm like a six-foot-tall
version of my own flaccid dick, wanting yet pulling away from my
only real ally in the world.
Anna's an optimist, though, to the bitter end, and so she forges
on. Like her ancestors, great, blond Swedes from Nebraska, she'll
continue plowing long-dead fields, even as the locusts converge.
"We haven't been to the Caribbean in a while," she says gently,
smiling at me. Her face goes flush.
"Anna," I say, but then I stop. She's right. We haven't.
"Maybe that's where we should go then," she says, and then she
tucks her hair behind each ear. "You like it there, right?"
Two days after we were married, we were on our way to the
Caribbean, stuck in the very back row of some medium-size plane
from Washington, D.C. We'd had drinks at the airport bar and
wine after takeoff. The alcohol, the altitude, and the weird joy of it
all were enough to motivate my wife to go down on me as the cabin
lights dimmed and a rerun of Frasier came on the little drop-down
televisions.
She kisses my neck and then my chest and then my stomach,
working her way downward. My heart is running and I'm nostalgic
as I touch the back of her head. "Just relax," she whispers.
I close my eyes as she goes about the little routine of swirling
kisses and harmless bites.
Then she puts me in her mouth and I hold my breath and
concentrate on the rush of sensations. I think of dirty, pornographic
things and grit my teeth. I think of swimsuit issues and
those creepy phone sex commercials that come on when you can't
sleep. A minute later, I should be as hard as that stupid, ungrateful
thirteen-year-old looking down white blouses in Catholic school.
But I'm not—not even close.
"Anna," I say.
"Just relax." She draws the word out, trying to hypnotize my
penis. I'm determined to will an erection out of thin air, so I
squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate some more. Aside from the
lovely wetness of Anna's mouth, though, there's only this odd,
rubbery little thing that I've somehow become.
I say her name again, but she doesn't stop. It's so small in her
mouth and I feel a fresh wave of that awful humiliation that sent
me scrambling to the bathroom ten minutes ago.
"Anna, please!"
Finally, she pulls away, startled, and I cover my stupid penis.
"I'm sorry. I can't. Shit. I just . . . I'm sorry."
She wipes her mouth and lies down again to stare at the ceiling.
"Tom," she says. But before she can say anything else, there's a
knock at our door, three small taps.
"Mommy? Daddy?"
Anna sits up and shakes out her hair. "I locked the door," she
whispers, and that somehow makes it even more embarrassing.
She's planned all of this down to the finest details. I briefly wonder
if our daughter has been listening to this entire episode, and if so,
how badly will she be scarred? I wish I could sink down into this
mattress and disappear.
"Mommy? Daddy? Can I come in? Please! Pleeeassse!" She
sounds scared.
Anna takes a breath and clears her throat—a mother again. She
hops up and opens the door and Allie runs into the room, her eyes
noisy and wide. "You guys," she says.
"What's up, Allie-Cat?" I say.
Her lower lip is shaking. "There's a burglar downstairs."
"A what? No, baby. You're just dreami—"
"Nu-uhh. It's not a dream." She's on my side of the bed clutching
our comforter, and Anna crouches beside her, smoothing her
wild bed-head. "He's taking away all of our stuff. He's stealing it. I
can hear him. And then he's gonna try to hurt us because robbers
can't leave witnesses. If they do then we'll be able to pick them out
in that room with the glass."
Thank you, Law & Order reruns.
"Sweetie," I say, but then Hank stands up, the shittiest watchdog
in North America, and growls at the door. There are footsteps and
then rustling, and my daughter is right. There's somebody downstairs.
"See," she says. Tears are about to spill from wide eyes. "I told you."
"Shit," I whisper.
I wonder what someone does in a situation like this—all those
actors in movies. And then for a moment I do absolutely nothing,
as if the situation might simply resolve itself while the three of us
sit here in this bedroom breathing. Then I realize that despite what
both of them must suspect about me and my abilities as a man,
Anna and Allie are looking at me. They're waiting for me to do
something. Waiting for me to protect them. Even Hank is looking
at me now, perfectly still, the rigid statue of an ugly little dog.
"OK," I say, which seems like a good place to start. "You guys
stay here. I'm gonna go check it out."
God help us.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Domestic Violets by Matthew Norman Copyright © 2011 by Matthew Norman. Excerpted by permission of Harper Perennial. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 74 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(51)

4 Star

(17)

3 Star

(2)

2 Star

(2)

1 Star

(2)

Your Rating:

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 74 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 1, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Highly recommend

    Tom Violet has problems. He has erectile disfunction, a mind-numbing job he hates, an arch-nemesis who'd love nothing better than to have Tom fired, a wife who he thinks is having an affair, a novel in his desk drawer that nobody apparently wants to read, a crush on his beautiful and too-young coworker, a father who's just won the Pulitzer and is getting yet another divorce, and a dog with acute anxiety. Anybody would go off the deep end, which Tom does, with true Violet flare.

    When I started reading this book I immediately thought that the beginning did not bode well - the protagonist, Tom Violet, kept going on and on about his erectile disfunction in the most descriptive fashion and I just could not imagine reading a whole book of that. Tom did prove to be a funny guy with an off-beat sense of humor and a hilarious comeback for whatever life throws at him and ED soon stepped off the center stage so I kept reading. In no time at all Norman charmed me with all the characters in Tom's life - his beautiful and intelligent wife, his budding artist daughter, his excitable dog, his brilliant philandering father, his too-good-looking subordinate, his agent and even his mental mother-in-law. They are all so alive and so far from being cliché that it's impossible to remain indifferent especially since they all do something unexpected or funny on a regular basis and the story never gets boring.
    While there is a lot of humor in this book it's not a literary romp. Things are never that simple in the Violet family and while their relationship with the truth has always been touch-and-go, as Tom himself admits, they make it work because they love each other. The value of family is up-front and center here and all the funny parts aside it's a thoughtful and thought-provoking book that is mainly about Tom's relationship with his father and it had me reeling on a number of occasions from Tom's actions and their consequences.
    The only thing that was a bit off for me is the ending. It seemed long with a number of instances when the story could have ended right then and there and wouldn't have been any less satisfying. There was even that "the end" type finality to the paragraphs and yet Norman kept going, wrapping everything up neatly and giving us a promise of a happy future for the Violets despite all the difficulties. Then again, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?
    This is a very good debut novel, well-written, funny but not slapstick, profane but not vulgar, sad but not depressing, and best of all when I turned the last page I was smiling. A word of caution: it is most definitely not appropriate for younger audiences.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 25, 2013

    Great

    Really liked it. Very humorous at times and a good story overall. I recommend it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 22, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Great book!!

    Wow, this book is pretty amazing. I got all the way to the end before it suddenly hit me that it was written in the first person - something I tend to hate. The book is fun, witty, captivating and a page turner. Once I started I couldn't put it down, much to the chagrin of my coworker who wanted to chat.

    The book is about a middle aged man who has his mid-life crisis that brings him many woes before it all smoothes out again. His humor and thoughts make one laugh out loud while some of his antics make women roll their eyes in disgust.

    A great read! Norman does a wonderful job with the internal struggles and his opening chapter pretty much sets the stage of what is to come. I would recommend this book to anyone - including those going through or who have a husband/brother/son going through their mid-life crisis.

    I received this book by Netgalley to read and write a review. I am not required to write a good review, I am only asked to be honest after reading the entire book. This book was quite easy to praise - it is that good.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 9, 2014

    Engrossing read

    This book is amazing and is deeply insightful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 25, 2014

    Jocelyn Biography

    My name is Jocelyn Saravia. I am twevle years old. I new traine here. My persontiky is happy and serious. I am also dermtined person. I am girl. I waer a hat that said Pokemon. And i wear a black shirt and red jacker. My pantis black leggings. My pokemon is chikorita. Her nam is Leafy.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 20, 2014

    Zelda's Bio

    ((Little late for this)) Name:Hatsune Zelda ((in Japanese order))| | Age:15| |Looks:Blue hair((it will change, hses always dying it)), black Kingdom Hearts tank top, black jeans with aqua circles at the flares. She sometimes wears her sxhool uniform which consists of a gray blazer, black and aqua skirt, aqua d gray stripped thigh high socks and a aqua and black headband. For each outfit she wears her signature Black Orsis.| |History:Zelda was adopted at the age of the 3. She had a 2 brothers. One was murdered. Her only surviving brother is Hatsune Link((again in Japanese order)). She doesnt know where she was born. She has no idea who her parents were. And becasue of this she went on a killing rampage which got her sent of to a mental hospital. She stayed there for awhile then came back and started to listen to voiced in her head.| |Personality:"Get to know me"| |Theme song(s) I Hear Voices, InSaNiTy, Bad End Night, Love is War, Animal I Have Become

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 15, 2014

    Eevee

    I am a male Eevee named Flare

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 10, 2014

    Glaceon

    Im a female glaceon named snow

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2014

    Can i be a snorlax

    Please

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2014

    Darkrai & co

    U all know darkrai and lugia and zorua and ditto, right?

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 21, 2014

    Mew's bio

    Im awesome and the rarest pokemon in da world!! My fav move is skill swap.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 15, 2014

    To larvitar

    Dufuq not even tyrantiar at level 80 reaches that high

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 12, 2014

    Lottie's bio, an actual bio this time

    Name: Lottie<p>Stuff and things: 18ish years old, six feet tall, and never ask a lady how much she weighs<p>Looks: Very long silvery-blonde hair with orange tips that begin after the hair leaves her feet and go on for a foot where the hair ends. Yellow eyes. Not gold, just straight-up yellow.<p>Wears: a mixture of random costumes like Luigi's outfit or a green crayon, and outfits available in X and Y like a light pink hat with the Sundae Dress thingy.<p>Personality: Considered crazy, but just random and humor-oriented. In extreme situations, she'd be the one being all brave and cr<_>ap.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 7, 2014

    Keldeo

    Moooo

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 1, 2014

    Xernes bio

    You all know me im a legendary but still thunderbolt and moonblast are my fav attacks

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 31, 2014

    Snorlax's bio

    YOU KNOW FLIPPIN' SNORLAX! <br>
    Other: Fat; knows Splash, Cut, and Tackle.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2014

    Ayame's bio

    Name:Ayame;Gender:Female;Age:15((almost 16));Height:5'6";Wieght:More than she looks;Looks:Black wavy hair that goes right below her shoulders,Dark green eyes,light brown tiny freckles spread right above her nose but below her eyes,Pale skin,A black t-shirt,A black sweater with tiny white fluff at the edge of the sleeves and hood and bottom of the jacket,Dark grey jeans,Black white and grey tenni-shoes;Pokemon:Vulpix-female-,Evee-female-,Pidgeotto-Male-,Poocheyana-Male-,Houndoom-Male-,Leavanny-Female-,Roserade-Female-,Roselia-Female-,Kirlia-Female-,Gardivour-Male-,Bisharp-Male-,Seaking-Female-,Arcinine-Male-,Rapidash-Female-,Dragonite-Male-,Rhydon-Male-,Cubone-Female-,Starmie-Female-,Gyrarados-Male-,Flareon-Male-,Dragonair-Female-,Aggron-Male-,Delacatty-Female-,Milotic-Female-,Zoroark-Male-,Duskclops-Male-,Pachirisu-Female-,Buneary-Female-,Glaceon-Female-;Region:Johto((Born in Johto but traveled));Crush:None;Relationship:Single pringle

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 22, 2014

    Alecs bio

    Name:Alec. Gender: &male. Age: 16. Looks: Tall blonde and grey eyes dimples and blue jacket black shirt and red cap. Current pokemanz: Fenniken named Dellfox, shiny pichu.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 15, 2014

    Octavia's Thousandth Update.

    Name: Octavia Autumn Willis <p>
    Age: I turn 11 in December, thank you very much <p>
    Gender: Do you know any guy named Octavia? <p>
    Appearance: Tall, with a jet-black ponytail and creepy gold eyes. Usually holds a Master Ball in one hand. <p>
    Clothes: It depends. When cosplaying, I'll be genderbent Link or Fluttershy or something. When in normal clothes, I wear the black Logo Cap, brown Bowneck Blouse or whatever it's called, black skinny jeans, and black boots. All from Pokemon X. <p>
    Personality: Weird and random. Meet me and figure out the rest. <p>
    Pokemon and random facts about them: Luna, my lv. 82 Xerneas, who loves Spice PokePuffs. Spitfire, my lv. 87 male Delphox, whose ear-fluff is reviving if you touch it. Squee, my lv. 84 male Blastoise, who hates to be poked. Gardevoir, my lv. 43 female Gardevoir, who loves me to the bottom of her heart. Celest, my lv. 43 female Ampharos, who likes neck rubs. And Lily, my lv. 72 male Pidgeot, who likes to run better than he likes to fly. <p>
    Other: Nope.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 28, 2014

    Kinera and co. bio GET READY FOR ANOTHER UPDATE!

    Name: (FACENOOK) (Kinera for those who can't read headings)<p>Gender: &female<p>Age: 15<p>Appearance: Dark brown hair and eyes, leather jacket with casual tee under it, blue jeans, sc<_>ar on arm<p>History: IT'S SO LONG I DON'T FEEL LIKE TYPING IT!<p>Team: Illux (Zorark &male), Ace (white Staraptor &male), Queen (Jellicent &female), Chomper (Mawile &female), Yin (Pangoro &male), Rocky (Golem &male)<p>Other: Ask!<p>***<p>Name: Dora<p>Gender: How many guys do you know are called "Dora"? EXACTLY.<p>Age: 15<p>Appearance: See orre res 2!<p>History: Unlike her childhood friend, Kinera, Dora didn't become a Trainer. Instead, she became a scientist at the Pokemon Lab HQ in Orre. Though that doesn't mean she doesn't have any Pokemon.<p>Team: Dragonite &female , Porygon-Z, Clefable &female , Gothitelle &female , Ampharos &female , Electrode<p>Other: Ask.<p>***<p>If you have played "Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness", you know Michael. Only difference is that he's now 17.<p>Team: Jolteon &male , Pidgeot &male , Aggron &male , Walrein &male , Ursaring &male , Zapdos

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