*two balloons fall from the ceiling*
Happy birthday, mom! Er...happy new year! ...oh wait, I mean, happy 500th post!
[link to my mom's 500th, 500th Post - 100 Random Things About Me]
I'm really glad you're blogging, as if it wasn't for you, my posts would be a lot more boring. Notice how I said, "more boring," not "less fun." One of those "cup half empty" issues. Ugh.
So uh yeah, love you and all that, glad things have turned out the way they have, uhh...thanks for...uh......birthing me...and stuff.
This is, like, my 31st post for this month, so I hit my goal as well.
I'll see you next year. Unless one of us dies. In which case, I'll see you in glory. (That's the new phrase I've learned to say instead of "I'll see you in the fiery pits of despair." Thanks for your counsel, pastor!)
What will you be doing for New Year's, mom, now that I've suddenly found out that you like New Years and the Fourth of July? (see Random Thing #76 at above link)
Monday, December 31, 2007
Internet Speed is Back and So is the Water!
Everything is like a blur now. If you don't have access to broadband, let me say that I am very, very sorry, and understand well your position. I spent well over 5,000 hours on a computer with dialup, so believe me, I understand.
We have Wildblue satellite internet, in case you didn't know. Recently my mom acquired a virus which downloaded...something, endlessly, up to 3 GB worth a month. We have a 7 GB per month limit, and typically we will hit 3-4 GB. With the virus, we went over bit by bit until finally, they cut our speed down to 100k or so. It seemed much slower, but eh. Ugh is all I can say to that. I had to spend 2-3 times as long on everything, and I officially was branded as being addicted to the computer again. Thanks a lot, dad.
Today I also went to get water. They had it back Saturday afternoon (see the backstory here: When Getting Water Isn't Easy), but I wanted to wait a day for the flood of thirsty fools to cease. Come to find out, they did something to stir up a bunch of dirt (or other ruffian particles), so our water is yellow. See a photo, below. Mmm, mm. Aren't you envious of our filthy water? Not ...not even a little?
Please?
Last year about midway through my Twilight Princess playthrough, I saw our neighbor, the Thirsty Wolf. Now, a year later, I saw him again! I am only 1/4 through at this point; we need to pick up a pizza from the Local Hairy-Man Operated Pizzeria. You can guess what they're infamous for. Eyuck...but aside from the...hairy part, they have good pizza.
I've seen our neighbor once throughout the year, and I saw his wife a few times, 2-3 I think. Good thing I saw him; otherwise, he might have thought his tank ruptured and was letting dirt in. I've made almost $1000 this year from delivering water to him. It sure doesn't seem like a thousand dollars when you spend it each week like a crazed fool! Donate this, donate that, sow a seed, make a love pledge, bring it to the storehouse, and you can't give until you've tithed!
...speaking of spending money like a crazy fool, Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls arrived today, as I prophesied. I should go join one of those prophecycult meetings worship festivals! They do have prophecy worship festivals, right?
I will try it out tonight, and hope that it isn't like most 8-bit games I've played. You know, pointlessly overly hard. Shouldn't be too bad, right?
We have Wildblue satellite internet, in case you didn't know. Recently my mom acquired a virus which downloaded...something, endlessly, up to 3 GB worth a month. We have a 7 GB per month limit, and typically we will hit 3-4 GB. With the virus, we went over bit by bit until finally, they cut our speed down to 100k or so. It seemed much slower, but eh. Ugh is all I can say to that. I had to spend 2-3 times as long on everything, and I officially was branded as being addicted to the computer again. Thanks a lot, dad.
Today I also went to get water. They had it back Saturday afternoon (see the backstory here: When Getting Water Isn't Easy), but I wanted to wait a day for the flood of thirsty fools to cease. Come to find out, they did something to stir up a bunch of dirt (or other ruffian particles), so our water is yellow. See a photo, below. Mmm, mm. Aren't you envious of our filthy water? Not ...not even a little?
Please?Last year about midway through my Twilight Princess playthrough, I saw our neighbor, the Thirsty Wolf. Now, a year later, I saw him again! I am only 1/4 through at this point; we need to pick up a pizza from the Local Hairy-Man Operated Pizzeria. You can guess what they're infamous for. Eyuck...but aside from the...hairy part, they have good pizza.
I've seen our neighbor once throughout the year, and I saw his wife a few times, 2-3 I think. Good thing I saw him; otherwise, he might have thought his tank ruptured and was letting dirt in. I've made almost $1000 this year from delivering water to him. It sure doesn't seem like a thousand dollars when you spend it each week like a crazed fool! Donate this, donate that, sow a seed, make a love pledge, bring it to the storehouse, and you can't give until you've tithed!
...speaking of spending money like a crazy fool, Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls arrived today, as I prophesied. I should go join one of those prophecy
I will try it out tonight, and hope that it isn't like most 8-bit games I've played. You know, pointlessly overly hard. Shouldn't be too bad, right?
My Brother. On my nerves again.
So, my brother is getting on my nerves again. I am unsure why. I think it is because I am more or less blamed for him having the dishes in his room, and around dinnertime there has been an increase of shortages (what?) of either forks, spoons, or plates the last 1-2 weeks.
As you know, this has caused "burn out" for me in the past (warning: clicking the link will cause loss of respect for our family like my mom's post here (Master Bedroom Cleanup), via this recent post here (Six Days of Freedom)), and I've stopped cooking or cleaning for as much as a week.
To remedy the situation, I will start barging into his room at odd hours to retrieve the dishes. We also need to get him a box spring for his bed (his current box spring is connected to his bed stand, and that allows dishes to weasel their way under his bed). That should hopefully motivate him to set his dishes outside of his door to hopefully stop the intrusions.
I will also be restricting his access to large bowls; he'll either have to eat smaller portions, or take two smaller bowls. He will have access to bowls no bigger than 2 quarts...and if he needs more than two quarts worth of food (which he does), oh well.
Now if only we could have a "you have to eat the vegetables on your plate" rule.
Apparently, New Years is not today, but tomorrow, so the mail will be running today, which means it may be lawful for me to ponder if FF1&2 or AoE:AoK will get here today. That makes no sense to me, but like my mom said the other day in church in front of EVERYONE, "Kev isn't allowed to look at calenders. He figures out how long it is until the next major holiday and he gets so excited that he wets himself sometimes."
THANKS A LOT, MOM.
As you know, this has caused "burn out" for me in the past (warning: clicking the link will cause loss of respect for our family like my mom's post here (Master Bedroom Cleanup), via this recent post here (Six Days of Freedom)), and I've stopped cooking or cleaning for as much as a week.
To remedy the situation, I will start barging into his room at odd hours to retrieve the dishes. We also need to get him a box spring for his bed (his current box spring is connected to his bed stand, and that allows dishes to weasel their way under his bed). That should hopefully motivate him to set his dishes outside of his door to hopefully stop the intrusions.
I will also be restricting his access to large bowls; he'll either have to eat smaller portions, or take two smaller bowls. He will have access to bowls no bigger than 2 quarts...and if he needs more than two quarts worth of food (which he does), oh well.
Now if only we could have a "you have to eat the vegetables on your plate" rule.
Apparently, New Years is not today, but tomorrow, so the mail will be running today, which means it may be lawful for me to ponder if FF1&2 or AoE:AoK will get here today. That makes no sense to me, but like my mom said the other day in church in front of EVERYONE, "Kev isn't allowed to look at calenders. He figures out how long it is until the next major holiday and he gets so excited that he wets himself sometimes."
THANKS A LOT, MOM.
I didn't do it. SERIOUSLY. I DIDN'T.
Alright, really, I didn't do it. Seriously. I didn't. I swear! It wasn't me! It was the cats! See picture, below!
Now, just because it's my pillow that's urine soaked, does not mean that I did it! I have, to my knowledge, never wet the bed!
Now what happened is, I have a bean bag chair on my dresser at the head of my bed (in my closet; it fits well.) One of the kittens- I assume, as the adult cats have never done this- climbed on top and peed all over it. I guess it formed a pool, as when I drug the bean bag chair onto my bed...well, you can imagine what happened to the puddle of urine on top.
I thought maybe there was a dish of water up there I didn't know about...but when I smelled it...it smelled faintly of cat urine. I then realized it was also on my shoulder in addition to my hand. I got up, slightly alarmed...perhaps this puddle is semi-sentient, I thought, as it seemed to climb up my hand to my shoulder. I braced myself to deal with a Venom-like being, perhaps an Ing.
I got up, only to discover it had completely soaked my pillow, as you can see in the first picture! Appalled, I got up and ran through the story in my head. Cats peed on bean bag chair. I did not do it. I flipped the chair onto my bed, I did not pee on my bed. I did not do it. I then got up, but not to pee on my bed, which I didn't do, because I didn't do it!
I went and washed the chair off in the shower. I then put my pillow and blankets into the washing machine. I cursed the cats to Hell several times during all of this.
I really didn't do it. If I did, I would have had to either
Therefore we conclude that I DIDN'T DO IT, IT WAS THE CATS! I DO NOT WET THE BED AND EVEN IF I DID, HOW WOULD I HAVE WET THE PILLOW? HOW OFTEN DO YOU HEAR ABOUT LITTLE TIMMY'S "PILLOW WETTING PROBLEM?" YOU DO NOT! THEREFORE, I DIDN'T DO IT
WHY DOESN'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME
Now, just because it's my pillow that's urine soaked, does not mean that I did it! I have, to my knowledge, never wet the bed!Now what happened is, I have a bean bag chair on my dresser at the head of my bed (in my closet; it fits well.) One of the kittens- I assume, as the adult cats have never done this- climbed on top and peed all over it. I guess it formed a pool, as when I drug the bean bag chair onto my bed...well, you can imagine what happened to the puddle of urine on top.
I thought maybe there was a dish of water up there I didn't know about...but when I smelled it...it smelled faintly of cat urine. I then realized it was also on my shoulder in addition to my hand. I got up, slightly alarmed...perhaps this puddle is semi-sentient, I thought, as it seemed to climb up my hand to my shoulder. I braced myself to deal with a Venom-like being, perhaps an Ing.
I got up, only to discover it had completely soaked my pillow, as you can see in the first picture! Appalled, I got up and ran through the story in my head. Cats peed on bean bag chair. I did not do it. I flipped the chair onto my bed, I did not pee on my bed. I did not do it. I then got up, but not to pee on my bed, which I didn't do, because I didn't do it!
I went and washed the chair off in the shower. I then put my pillow and blankets into the washing machine. I cursed the cats to Hell several times during all of this.
I really didn't do it. If I did, I would have had to either
- A: get up in the middle of the night and pee on the bean bag chair, sabotaging myself
- B: pee directly on my pillow; however, this doesn't fit, as it was more of a "splash." Therefore, I would have had to first pee in a dish, then splash that onto my pillow- while sleeping.
- Or C: I would have had to, through telekinesis, will urine out of the septic tank, up through the toilet, under the toilet door, under my door, and either onto the bean bag chair or onto my pillow, and I would have had to do it from a distance, AND I wouldn't of known I was doing it. I think I would know if I was willing a stream of urine out of the septic tank through the air onto the pillow beside me!
Therefore we conclude that I DIDN'T DO IT, IT WAS THE CATS! I DO NOT WET THE BED AND EVEN IF I DID, HOW WOULD I HAVE WET THE PILLOW? HOW OFTEN DO YOU HEAR ABOUT LITTLE TIMMY'S "PILLOW WETTING PROBLEM?" YOU DO NOT! THEREFORE, I DIDN'T DO IT
WHY DOESN'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME
Friday, December 28, 2007
Do you know what a keep case is?
I didn't.
I do now.
No, it isn't slang for "suitcase." Believe me, if the younger generation is going to invent slang terms, it is NOT going to relate to business as much as suitcases do, especially in a positive light. No, apparently, a keep case is that Here is the sickeningly sweet, butterfly infested tag of Things I Love dandy plastic case that video games come in. Oh, I guess DVDs come in them, too, but why do DVDs or movies deserve a mention? If you don't already know my feelings about movies and other entertainment media, notice that movies, music, television programs, and DVDs combined only have 36 tags, whilst video games have 66. I really, really dislike movies. Really. Like, really. I could say 'really' five more times in varying ways, but you get the idea.
In fact...do you know what IMDb is? Internet Movie Database? Well, they're complete, total cult-freaks. They know who every single extra is. If a movie shows the planet earth from space, then they have to list the many billions of "extras" shown; usually 2-3 billion depending on how wide the shot is and if it's mostly ocean and if there are clouds.
To boot, they create a "profile" for each person. Then, if the same section of the earth is used in another movie, that "extra"- who is not shown in any way, shape or form, but is simply thought to live in the section of the planet shown- is claimed to have "extra'd" in that movie. Confusing and unnecessary, isn't it? It is. It is.
Taking that into account, it is no marvel that they have A LIST OF DVDS IN KEEP CASES. God knows why they need this information. I assume it's useful for their cult practices. Here is the link: IMDb packaging: Keep Case.
I just found out what a keep case is today whilst looking at Wikipedia. Video games come in them, and Xbox games come in lime green colored keep cases. Made me get a creepy feeling when I saw them. Like, verbal "Ooohgah!" expressed in a color...a green color.
I love keep cases. I'll tell the world right now. Before them, I could keep no packaging. I have 1 instruction booklet (SSB), and 1-2 old N64 game boxes (they're in the Shed of Death). Compare that with the 20+ instruction booklets and 22+ game boxes I have for Gamecube (any I don't have boxes for is due to them being sold without them).
The only box I really currently use (that is, "that is not lost") is my Metroid: Zero Mission box, soon to be sealed in a ziptop bag so that nothing bad will ever happen to it...ever. My own little "everlasting covenant," if you get my meaning. Aside from Metroid games, I really see no purpose to having cardboard boxes, and it seems as if they would just complicate matters. You know, it'd be sort of like driving a car with an empty trailer. It's like, fine, but...it doesn't need to be there. It decreases your gas mileage, and stuff.
Shouldn't be too long before the DS and GBA games I ordered arrive. I'm 1/5th through The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. I have these feelings...they're like...man, if I'm only 1/5th through the game, why have I already experienced more awesome than is found in most games?
Yes, that sums up my feelings on the matter quite well. That mailman is such a dork. Oh, and I discovered that apparently Zoras do have breasts. There'll be an upcoming post focusing on the cleavage and breast content of Twilight Princess. Apparently there's an entire post's worth? And I'm only 1/5th through the game?
I do now.
No, it isn't slang for "suitcase." Believe me, if the younger generation is going to invent slang terms, it is NOT going to relate to business as much as suitcases do, especially in a positive light. No, apparently, a keep case is that Here is the sickeningly sweet, butterfly infested tag of Things I Love dandy plastic case that video games come in. Oh, I guess DVDs come in them, too, but why do DVDs or movies deserve a mention? If you don't already know my feelings about movies and other entertainment media, notice that movies, music, television programs, and DVDs combined only have 36 tags, whilst video games have 66. I really, really dislike movies. Really. Like, really. I could say 'really' five more times in varying ways, but you get the idea.
In fact...do you know what IMDb is? Internet Movie Database? Well, they're complete, total cult-freaks. They know who every single extra is. If a movie shows the planet earth from space, then they have to list the many billions of "extras" shown; usually 2-3 billion depending on how wide the shot is and if it's mostly ocean and if there are clouds.
To boot, they create a "profile" for each person. Then, if the same section of the earth is used in another movie, that "extra"- who is not shown in any way, shape or form, but is simply thought to live in the section of the planet shown- is claimed to have "extra'd" in that movie. Confusing and unnecessary, isn't it? It is. It is.
Taking that into account, it is no marvel that they have A LIST OF DVDS IN KEEP CASES. God knows why they need this information. I assume it's useful for their cult practices. Here is the link: IMDb packaging: Keep Case.
I just found out what a keep case is today whilst looking at Wikipedia. Video games come in them, and Xbox games come in lime green colored keep cases. Made me get a creepy feeling when I saw them. Like, verbal "Ooohgah!" expressed in a color...a green color.
I love keep cases. I'll tell the world right now. Before them, I could keep no packaging. I have 1 instruction booklet (SSB), and 1-2 old N64 game boxes (they're in the Shed of Death). Compare that with the 20+ instruction booklets and 22+ game boxes I have for Gamecube (any I don't have boxes for is due to them being sold without them).
The only box I really currently use (that is, "that is not lost") is my Metroid: Zero Mission box, soon to be sealed in a ziptop bag so that nothing bad will ever happen to it...ever. My own little "everlasting covenant," if you get my meaning. Aside from Metroid games, I really see no purpose to having cardboard boxes, and it seems as if they would just complicate matters. You know, it'd be sort of like driving a car with an empty trailer. It's like, fine, but...it doesn't need to be there. It decreases your gas mileage, and stuff.
Shouldn't be too long before the DS and GBA games I ordered arrive. I'm 1/5th through The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. I have these feelings...they're like...man, if I'm only 1/5th through the game, why have I already experienced more awesome than is found in most games?
Yes, that sums up my feelings on the matter quite well. That mailman is such a dork. Oh, and I discovered that apparently Zoras do have breasts. There'll be an upcoming post focusing on the cleavage and breast content of Twilight Princess. Apparently there's an entire post's worth? And I'm only 1/5th through the game?
Thursday, December 27, 2007
The Little Birdy
Everyone welcome the "TMI" tag, for information about my life. Such as this post or a post about flies or a post about how I hate merging onto freeways with people who think they can make it doing 40 MPH. You know, they have faith that they can make it...their faith isn't wrong, what they're believing in is.
Every so often, a bird flies into our covered, sealed porch. It's harder for it to get out (on occasion they do escape); the dogs leap high off the outer deck to try and get it- their efforts are futile, but it scares the bird, and there is usually one or two cats in there trying to get the little guy. I usually hear about it, because the dogs make a racket and so do the cats.
Usually within 5-10 minutes the bird exhausts itself to the point that it is caught by a cat, at which point I strangle the cat until it drops the bird into my hand. This can happen several times as, often, I can't catch the bird fast enough from the feline jaws. The cats don't seem to mind being man-handled and strangled, having their prey taken from them, and being dropped nonchalantly as I begin the capturing process again, so that's good.
So, after I finally acquire the target, I take it inside and let it chill (out of the side, as the youth say, not "ice" chill) until it gets its breath, then release it out the opposite door. This one had yellow on it. See pictures, below.
Every so often, a bird flies into our covered, sealed porch. It's harder for it to get out (on occasion they do escape); the dogs leap high off the outer deck to try and get it- their efforts are futile, but it scares the bird, and there is usually one or two cats in there trying to get the little guy. I usually hear about it, because the dogs make a racket and so do the cats.
Usually within 5-10 minutes the bird exhausts itself to the point that it is caught by a cat, at which point I strangle the cat until it drops the bird into my hand. This can happen several times as, often, I can't catch the bird fast enough from the feline jaws. The cats don't seem to mind being man-handled and strangled, having their prey taken from them, and being dropped nonchalantly as I begin the capturing process again, so that's good.
So, after I finally acquire the target, I take it inside and let it chill (out of the side, as the youth say, not "ice" chill) until it gets its breath, then release it out the opposite door. This one had yellow on it. See pictures, below.
When Getting Water Isn't Easy
So, our well is down. Which I found out today as I went to gather water for the little flock. Uhh, sorry. I meant to say, as I went to get water to sustain me, my family, and my neighbor's family.
A sign was on the door of the well. It said, "Dude, back off. No water getting kay? Go to another outlet plz. GG nubtub."
"Addresses" to the other well outlets were provided. Several of them were also down (I didn't know so many well outlets could exist in such a cramped world!). The reason I say "addresses" is because it wasn't so much an address, but a random, unheard of, 1-mile-long stretch of "road." That's just great.
Now, had they said, "The water is poisoned at the other wells, please chill out on the side until the 31st so you can get water then," I would have went home a happy, contented camper, having caught my share of fish. But noo. I went out in search of the nearest outlet...surely enough, it took my 35 minutes (we'll get that in editing, like men) to find it. I learned a new hymn. "He Lives." I now despise it, as I sung it at least 500 times in the process of finding the well. Oh, and now I've got "Used to know some people, who walked and talked with me. But since I found salvation, they turned their backs on me" stuck in my head. Ugh. Make it stop...make it stop!
I pulled up, very happy to have found it. However...there was a sign up. "Dude lol, the water is like, poisoned and stuff, so don't drink it alright? Feed it to your dogs lol and your carrots too dude lol it's great for gardens and fields but it will kill you."
I paused for a second to assess my feelings. Resentment, frustration, betrayal, sadness, a feeling of futility, and the feeling you get when you are happy then sad suddenly.
I drove off slowly. I came home and found, typed, then printed out some directions. The lost sheep of the house of idiocy (IE the segment of mankind that is lost and stupid) would surely not be able to find it if I were unable to. I made an error, so I will reprint them tomorrow. It's not grammatical, just something I didn't know about when I printed them.
Following my own directions proudly, I set off in search of the second well. As I was driving down the road a few miles from it, a jokepot pulled out in front of me. Picture, below.
I followed him very politely, as I always do when getting water. How much sense does it make to overtake them, spit dust in their face, then pull into the well and sit there for two minutes until they arrive with a crowbar and a bad look on their face? Not much, I reckon.
Then I saw the sign. No, locusts did not fly out of the earth and eat the rubber off my tires...but I saw the sign. "Dude, uh, hi2u, lol. Well uh the water here it's like...also poisoned, LOL. sory to get you out this far but it has waay 2 much floride and it'll kill you dead if you touch it so...no drinky aright?"
I drove away slowly once more. I decided that, instead of return defeated, I would go back to the first well that was poisoned and get some of their water. If we have 1500 gallons, that should dilute the poisoned 500 gallons. On the way there, I saw some water! And I mean for reals! Check it out, below, doug.
Spit spit spit spit spit spit endlessly spitting water into a small concrete trench. Ah, the life of a polyvinyl chloride pipe.
When I arrived, I found the accommodations to be...less than stellar. On top of the poor accommodations (razor wire), I found that my water tank was attempting a valiant escape! Boy, you KNOW water is poisonous when your inanimate, non-sentient water tank tries to escape to avoid it! Picture, below. Note that it is almost falling off.
Regardless, the pump pumped water and the rocks kept the mud from swallowing up the tires, thus it worked. It took a long time, though, probably 9 minutes. So I examined my knuckles. One is particularly bad. See picture, below.
Doesn't it make you wonder why I don't use lotion? It makes me wonder why I don't use lotion. Am I the only one who is wondering why I don't use lotion? I guess...I am going on an intensive lotion program. I'm going to wear a glove with a bunch of lotion inside of it, thus lotionizing (or is it moisturizing?) my skin...intensively.
While the water was pumping, I discovered some good news! Yes, the "sticker amongst the gnats," if you will. Yes, I found out that Christ died for us! Check the pic of our truck window, below.
Well, I guess I already knew that, but it bears repeating. Thanks, Lord!
Romans 5:8:
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Note: this is one of the only posts I have EVER not proof read.
A sign was on the door of the well. It said, "Dude, back off. No water getting kay? Go to another outlet plz. GG nubtub."
"Addresses" to the other well outlets were provided. Several of them were also down (I didn't know so many well outlets could exist in such a cramped world!). The reason I say "addresses" is because it wasn't so much an address, but a random, unheard of, 1-mile-long stretch of "road." That's just great.
Now, had they said, "The water is poisoned at the other wells, please chill out on the side until the 31st so you can get water then," I would have went home a happy, contented camper, having caught my share of fish. But noo. I went out in search of the nearest outlet...surely enough, it took my 35 minutes (we'll get that in editing, like men) to find it. I learned a new hymn. "He Lives." I now despise it, as I sung it at least 500 times in the process of finding the well. Oh, and now I've got "Used to know some people, who walked and talked with me. But since I found salvation, they turned their backs on me" stuck in my head. Ugh. Make it stop...make it stop!
I pulled up, very happy to have found it. However...there was a sign up. "Dude lol, the water is like, poisoned and stuff, so don't drink it alright? Feed it to your dogs lol and your carrots too dude lol it's great for gardens and fields but it will kill you."
I paused for a second to assess my feelings. Resentment, frustration, betrayal, sadness, a feeling of futility, and the feeling you get when you are happy then sad suddenly.
I drove off slowly. I came home and found, typed, then printed out some directions. The lost sheep of the house of idiocy (IE the segment of mankind that is lost and stupid) would surely not be able to find it if I were unable to. I made an error, so I will reprint them tomorrow. It's not grammatical, just something I didn't know about when I printed them.
Following my own directions proudly, I set off in search of the second well. As I was driving down the road a few miles from it, a jokepot pulled out in front of me. Picture, below.
I followed him very politely, as I always do when getting water. How much sense does it make to overtake them, spit dust in their face, then pull into the well and sit there for two minutes until they arrive with a crowbar and a bad look on their face? Not much, I reckon.Then I saw the sign. No, locusts did not fly out of the earth and eat the rubber off my tires...but I saw the sign. "Dude, uh, hi2u, lol. Well uh the water here it's like...also poisoned, LOL. sory to get you out this far but it has waay 2 much floride and it'll kill you dead if you touch it so...no drinky aright?"
I drove away slowly once more. I decided that, instead of return defeated, I would go back to the first well that was poisoned and get some of their water. If we have 1500 gallons, that should dilute the poisoned 500 gallons. On the way there, I saw some water! And I mean for reals! Check it out, below, doug.
Spit spit spit spit spit spit endlessly spitting water into a small concrete trench. Ah, the life of a polyvinyl chloride pipe.When I arrived, I found the accommodations to be...less than stellar. On top of the poor accommodations (razor wire), I found that my water tank was attempting a valiant escape! Boy, you KNOW water is poisonous when your inanimate, non-sentient water tank tries to escape to avoid it! Picture, below. Note that it is almost falling off.
Regardless, the pump pumped water and the rocks kept the mud from swallowing up the tires, thus it worked. It took a long time, though, probably 9 minutes. So I examined my knuckles. One is particularly bad. See picture, below.
Doesn't it make you wonder why I don't use lotion? It makes me wonder why I don't use lotion. Am I the only one who is wondering why I don't use lotion? I guess...I am going on an intensive lotion program. I'm going to wear a glove with a bunch of lotion inside of it, thus lotionizing (or is it moisturizing?) my skin...intensively.While the water was pumping, I discovered some good news! Yes, the "sticker amongst the gnats," if you will. Yes, I found out that Christ died for us! Check the pic of our truck window, below.
Well, I guess I already knew that, but it bears repeating. Thanks, Lord!Romans 5:8:
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Note: this is one of the only posts I have EVER not proof read.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
What does somebody get Kev for New Years?
OK, here's the deal. If you saw my post today listing the games I currently own, then you'll notice I have an extreme, unequivocal lack of portability- that is, DS/GBA games. (I am unsure if unequivocal is the word.) That is weird to me, as I completely love my NDSLite. It's the most comfortable system (for me) I know of. Plus, it's just dandy, and oh so cute!
So, I set out- spending near 6 hours so far- to compile a list of games I want for the Nintendo DS (and for other systems, as well, but mostly for DS, meaning "also GBA.") I was going to post this list, but I thought better.
Rather, if you're looking to get me something for a holiday of any type (except for Easter- get me a real big, pretty basket with gold bricks in it on that holiday- with lots of that shiny ribbon hay!), just send me $10. That is enough to finance 1/3 to 2/3 of a game.
For the price of one and a half 1-gallon cans of coffee (so for the price of a mere two-hundred, eighty-eight cups of coffee), you can buy something really important- boundless, imagination-enhanced game memories for Kev. And in return, I'll give you the credit for buying it for me in my review of the game you've financed*.
*-No one but Samus receives glory in Metroid reviews; thus, this does not apply to Metroid games. You will receive nary a mention if I buy a Metroid game, humble fool.
I know what you're saying: "What kind of idiot will fall for this scam?"
Truth be told, I will be buying myself these games either way. However, I'm letting you in on the bottom right now, because I know how smart you are...all you have to do is send me $10, and I give you the credit. Whether you want the credit or not is up to you. I mean, I'll be paying some on top of it. $5-$15 more...so I'm more at a risk than you are. We're a team in this.
And if you're ever worried that I won't spend your money in the most efficient way possible, rest assured that I only buy from the cheapest merchants, such as Half.com and, if price is comparable, a game store. Note that almost no games are bought new in an attempt to stretch the budget. Your dollars are well spent and hard at work, and every penny is put to good use.
Have you ever considered the shark? Why are they called "lone sharks?" They're very solitary, and tend to be independent and do things on their own. Sharks have a very shy tendency, and that's exactly what you aren't. I know you know a good deal when you see one, so react like a squid- grab for it with every tentacle you have and grip it with your suction cups and don't let go until it is dead!
Like I said, I'll be buying the games either way, so no pressure on you. My grandma actually already financed two of my games with her $25 donation, and it will soon pay off in dividends once the reviews come in. But you have to get in on the bottom...the sooner you donate/give the gift of cash, the sooner your credit in the review manifests. Remember, I'm developing a "short review" program, that I deem No Game Played Left Behind (NGPLB, or "NeoGeo Peanut Lettuce Butter" to help me remember it), and will soon post short reviews of games instead of the arduous task- which I often skip- of reviewing them in full. Sometimes a short explanation is all a game needs.
So just remember, when you're sipping down that two hundred and eighty-eighth cup of Joe, that you could have bought me a video game from the brew you consumed. Skipping only two-hundred and eighty-eight cups of coffee is enough to buy me a new game.
So if you're ever wondering what to get me, just send $10 my way in a pretty envelope. I like my envelopes sealed, by the way.
Thus far, my grandma's donation (see: Christmas gift) of $25 has bought me Age of Empires: the Age of Kings for the Nintendo DS and Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls for the Game Boy Advance (DS plays GBA carts). Together, they total around $28. I am unsure as to why the FF games are titled "Dawn of Souls," but we'll find out.
So, I set out- spending near 6 hours so far- to compile a list of games I want for the Nintendo DS (and for other systems, as well, but mostly for DS, meaning "also GBA.") I was going to post this list, but I thought better.
Rather, if you're looking to get me something for a holiday of any type (except for Easter- get me a real big, pretty basket with gold bricks in it on that holiday- with lots of that shiny ribbon hay!), just send me $10. That is enough to finance 1/3 to 2/3 of a game.
For the price of one and a half 1-gallon cans of coffee (so for the price of a mere two-hundred, eighty-eight cups of coffee), you can buy something really important- boundless, imagination-enhanced game memories for Kev. And in return, I'll give you the credit for buying it for me in my review of the game you've financed*.
*-No one but Samus receives glory in Metroid reviews; thus, this does not apply to Metroid games. You will receive nary a mention if I buy a Metroid game, humble fool.
I know what you're saying: "What kind of idiot will fall for this scam?"
Truth be told, I will be buying myself these games either way. However, I'm letting you in on the bottom right now, because I know how smart you are...all you have to do is send me $10, and I give you the credit. Whether you want the credit or not is up to you. I mean, I'll be paying some on top of it. $5-$15 more...so I'm more at a risk than you are. We're a team in this.
And if you're ever worried that I won't spend your money in the most efficient way possible, rest assured that I only buy from the cheapest merchants, such as Half.com and, if price is comparable, a game store. Note that almost no games are bought new in an attempt to stretch the budget. Your dollars are well spent and hard at work, and every penny is put to good use.
Have you ever considered the shark? Why are they called "lone sharks?" They're very solitary, and tend to be independent and do things on their own. Sharks have a very shy tendency, and that's exactly what you aren't. I know you know a good deal when you see one, so react like a squid- grab for it with every tentacle you have and grip it with your suction cups and don't let go until it is dead!
Like I said, I'll be buying the games either way, so no pressure on you. My grandma actually already financed two of my games with her $25 donation, and it will soon pay off in dividends once the reviews come in. But you have to get in on the bottom...the sooner you donate/give the gift of cash, the sooner your credit in the review manifests. Remember, I'm developing a "short review" program, that I deem No Game Played Left Behind (NGPLB, or "NeoGeo Peanut Lettuce Butter" to help me remember it), and will soon post short reviews of games instead of the arduous task- which I often skip- of reviewing them in full. Sometimes a short explanation is all a game needs.
So just remember, when you're sipping down that two hundred and eighty-eighth cup of Joe, that you could have bought me a video game from the brew you consumed. Skipping only two-hundred and eighty-eight cups of coffee is enough to buy me a new game.
So if you're ever wondering what to get me, just send $10 my way in a pretty envelope. I like my envelopes sealed, by the way.
Thus far, my grandma's donation (see: Christmas gift) of $25 has bought me Age of Empires: the Age of Kings for the Nintendo DS and Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls for the Game Boy Advance (DS plays GBA carts). Together, they total around $28. I am unsure as to why the FF games are titled "Dawn of Souls," but we'll find out.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Cry Mor Plz Santa
Where you at, foo'? I gots yo' plate of cookies right here. They're sugar cookies. I found the recipe at The Chocolate Gourmand (Old Fashioned Sugar Cookies). They're old fashioned with sugar sprinkles. But not the gross kind that have normal sugar over them and have a horrible texture because of it...but colored decorative sugar. Mm, mmm. The orange adds brightness and freshness, if I am not mistaken. I took these to church last week.
Oh? What's that? You can't show if I'm awake after midnight?
Aww, so sad. Cry a tear for us Santa.
That's right, let us hear it drop to the floor like the proverbial pin drop.
What's that, Santa? Why don't I hear a tear drop hitting the floor?
Hmm? Oh? Really? You're nowhere to be found? I see. Oh? I'm up after midnight, you say?
Can't come in through the keyhole, is it? Aww. Cry, let's hear it. Too many watchful eyes keeping you away? Really? Only two here. Mm, these cookies are great. Chomp chomp, munch munch. What's that? Gonna cry? Hold on, let me cup my hand over my ear.
OK, now...let's hear it.
...
...
...
Nothing? Santa? What went wrong? No tears? Why do you tarry so? Sleigh get stuck on little Timmy's roof? Someone shoot at you? Don't give me the "it turned to ice" routine, as ice would make a louder sound. Aww, poor Santa. You know what I think it is, my humble fools?
I think Santa doesn't exist.
You heard me. Notice what you didn't hear? Santa's tear dropping like a pin. Aww, poor Santa. I don't think he has any idea who's been naughty, and I doubt he knows who's been nice. Know why? I don't think he exists. That's why.
Now, as many as care about the blast fool, please cry the tear for him. Let it fall to the floor gracefully, splattering to watery pieces...releasing the dread sound of a broken tear.
What's that? No one?
Aww, poor Santa. None of his dear fans cried any tears for him.
Cry more, Santa. Cry more.
Here, have a tissue for your issue.
Oh? What's that? You can't show if I'm awake after midnight?
Aww, so sad. Cry a tear for us Santa.
That's right, let us hear it drop to the floor like the proverbial pin drop.
What's that, Santa? Why don't I hear a tear drop hitting the floor?
Hmm? Oh? Really? You're nowhere to be found? I see. Oh? I'm up after midnight, you say?
Can't come in through the keyhole, is it? Aww. Cry, let's hear it. Too many watchful eyes keeping you away? Really? Only two here. Mm, these cookies are great. Chomp chomp, munch munch. What's that? Gonna cry? Hold on, let me cup my hand over my ear.
OK, now...let's hear it.
...
...
...
Nothing? Santa? What went wrong? No tears? Why do you tarry so? Sleigh get stuck on little Timmy's roof? Someone shoot at you? Don't give me the "it turned to ice" routine, as ice would make a louder sound. Aww, poor Santa. You know what I think it is, my humble fools?
I think Santa doesn't exist.
You heard me. Notice what you didn't hear? Santa's tear dropping like a pin. Aww, poor Santa. I don't think he has any idea who's been naughty, and I doubt he knows who's been nice. Know why? I don't think he exists. That's why.
Now, as many as care about the blast fool, please cry the tear for him. Let it fall to the floor gracefully, splattering to watery pieces...releasing the dread sound of a broken tear.
What's that? No one?
Aww, poor Santa. None of his dear fans cried any tears for him.
Cry more, Santa. Cry more.
Here, have a tissue for your issue.
Kev makes a fool out of himself. Again.
Last night, as you hopefully know, I found out that my Twilight Princess disc (Wii) no longer works. It looks as if the Wii scratched the disc, but that makes no sense, as it never stopped working, so it was probably Satan trying to ruin my celebration of Christ's birth (which was totally December 25th!), or God trying to teach me something for sure! I hope I can find out if it was God trying to teach me something or Satan doing an attack on me. Gee, I sure wish I could tell.
Or...it's possible that it may have scratched the disc a year ago, and since the Wii's optical sensor was newer, it worked. How should I know? I don't specialize in optical sensors.
I'm going to have to invest not only my own cash into purchasing a new copy, but also some guilt-credits with my parents. I always build up guilt-credits right before Christmas: "Oh, but he's such a good son, let's get him this bar of gold!"
I have been milking the last week or so and I've been such a good son that I'm holding their faces to the figurative guilt wheel. It grinds their faces with guilt, leaving them looking something like Umagon in Tiberian Sun (complete with that suicide trick the Forgotten do).
I even cleaned our bathroom, which is probably not my mom's most looked-forward-to chore on her chore list- see her blog post, Six Days of Freedom.
So I'm covered as far as a new copy of Twilight Princess goes. I'm fine. But my brother? Ooh. His horror is just beginning. He cannot find any tomato sauce, and he's in a depressive slump because of it. Poor joker.
"I've had a ho-horrible, bad day Kev. No talking to me OK?" he says. "OK, brother." I says. Keep in mind that the only thing that happened to him was that he woke up and found out there was no tomato sauce. Enough to ruin his day. OK, brother...sorry about that.
Back to me. My mom called today and asked me if I wanted them to stop (there's the guilt-credits at work!). Well, since they offered, sure...yes, yes...all working into my master plan. Here I come Santa. Yes, we will get him. He will be ours. I'm hoping to get a copy of Twilight Princess used No, no, get it new, for the glory therein; I certainly do not want to spend $50 again. So I called around to 3 Game Crazy's. I've always shopped with them for used games...that is, used games that I need in a hurry. Otherwise I use Half.com.
I called the first one. The guy was cool; very clear voice, and typically they do their speech so fast you can't understand it. Anyways, I asked him, "Hi, what time are you guys open till?" "9 PM." "OK, and do you guys have a copy of Metroid Prime 3: Corruption for the Wii on sale?"
I meant to say "used," but I said "on sale." What a dork. What a dork he was. You are amazing. He said, "It's $50 new, and $37 used with MVP card." "Do you have one used?" "Uhh...let's see...wow, no. It should be pretty easy to find if you look around at the other Game Crazy's." "OK, thanks." "You bet." (click)
I called the second one. He rattled through his speech about how they have the greatest holiday games. "What time are you guys open till?" "10 PM." "OK, and do you have Metroid Prime 3: Corruption for the Wii in stock?" "For the Wii, for the Wii, for the Wii, let's see...yes. Would you like us to hold it for you?" "How much is it?" "It's...$50." "Oh, no, I wouldn't like it held." (click)
He seemed like he wanted me to go to Hell.
I called the third one. "Hi, what time are you guys open till?" "10 PM." "OK, good. Do you guys have a copy of Metroid Prime 3: Corruption used?" "Let's see...nope. It's new for $50." "OK, thanks." (awkward pause) (click)
I was about to call the 4th Game Crazy, when I lost my nerve. I found it again whilst I was considering that if it's new, it may come without packaging, but that's good, because I already have a Twilight Princess package box kit...
If you have not realized by now, dear reader, might I suggest you take some advice I could have used, and get some coffee...as I have been calling around for a copy of Metroid Prime 3. Metroid Prime 3 works fine. I need a copy of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, not Metroid Prime 3!
Oh, where did I go wrong. You did not. Where did I folly? You did not. What caused me to err? You have not. Tiredness? You are never tired. You never sleep. Stupidity? Idiocy? Dimwittedness? What could it have possibly been, this force that made me make an idiotic display out of myself, and even still pushes me to blog about my embarrassment? It's so natural to say Metroid Prime 3: Corruption, I suppose.
Now I have to call them all back. I will wait an hour, and by then...hopefully they'll have forgotten. Ooh, embarrassment of embarrassments. And you know how much trouble I have with calling places! (Nintendo DS (Lite) Update -- the NDS will be getting some attention here shortly.) But now I know how late they are open, so I can just ask if they have TP on sale. They'll make no connection!
I'm sure more of them have TP used. It's a year old...MP3 is not. Ugh. Idiot!
I guess I can call the final Game Crazy I was going to call out of desperation; hopefully word has not yet gotten around to the other Game Crazy's of my stupidity. It's about 5 miles out of my parent's way.
Oh, drat. Their phone is not working. I'll call the first Game Crazy I called. Oohgh. Embarrassment. On hold...on hold...his computer isn't working right...they don't have one, but it would be $41 used. Weird.
My mom suggests that instead of feeling the awesome, glowing shame of calling the other two back, we should just get it new. They decided to stop by a game store to avoid going to Walmart. It was...a Gamestop. She called me to make sure I wanted a used one, and by the time I had called her back, it turned out that she had already bought the game new, despite the fact that they had the chance to buy it used (to their credit, it was only $8 more new, and they were trying to do good.)
So now I'm back on schedule...and seeing's how they stopped by Frys just for my brother, he'll be back on schedule by tomorrow as well.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to clean my room, then I'm going to play Twilight Princess. And attempt to kill Santa. If he is real. Which he isn't. Here, come get the cookies, Saint Nick...
Fresh goats milk...
...and gunpowder...
Or...it's possible that it may have scratched the disc a year ago, and since the Wii's optical sensor was newer, it worked. How should I know? I don't specialize in optical sensors.
I'm going to have to invest not only my own cash into purchasing a new copy, but also some guilt-credits with my parents. I always build up guilt-credits right before Christmas: "Oh, but he's such a good son, let's get him this bar of gold!"
I have been milking the last week or so and I've been such a good son that I'm holding their faces to the figurative guilt wheel. It grinds their faces with guilt, leaving them looking something like Umagon in Tiberian Sun (complete with that suicide trick the Forgotten do).
I even cleaned our bathroom, which is probably not my mom's most looked-forward-to chore on her chore list- see her blog post, Six Days of Freedom.
So I'm covered as far as a new copy of Twilight Princess goes. I'm fine. But my brother? Ooh. His horror is just beginning. He cannot find any tomato sauce, and he's in a depressive slump because of it. Poor joker.
"I've had a ho-horrible, bad day Kev. No talking to me OK?" he says. "OK, brother." I says. Keep in mind that the only thing that happened to him was that he woke up and found out there was no tomato sauce. Enough to ruin his day. OK, brother...sorry about that.
Back to me. My mom called today and asked me if I wanted them to stop (there's the guilt-credits at work!). Well, since they offered, sure...yes, yes...all working into my master plan. Here I come Santa. Yes, we will get him. He will be ours. I'm hoping to get a copy of Twilight Princess used No, no, get it new, for the glory therein; I certainly do not want to spend $50 again. So I called around to 3 Game Crazy's. I've always shopped with them for used games...that is, used games that I need in a hurry. Otherwise I use Half.com.
I called the first one. The guy was cool; very clear voice, and typically they do their speech so fast you can't understand it. Anyways, I asked him, "Hi, what time are you guys open till?" "9 PM." "OK, and do you guys have a copy of Metroid Prime 3: Corruption for the Wii on sale?"
I meant to say "used," but I said "on sale." What a dork. What a dork he was. You are amazing. He said, "It's $50 new, and $37 used with MVP card." "Do you have one used?" "Uhh...let's see...wow, no. It should be pretty easy to find if you look around at the other Game Crazy's." "OK, thanks." "You bet." (click)
I called the second one. He rattled through his speech about how they have the greatest holiday games. "What time are you guys open till?" "10 PM." "OK, and do you have Metroid Prime 3: Corruption for the Wii in stock?" "For the Wii, for the Wii, for the Wii, let's see...yes. Would you like us to hold it for you?" "How much is it?" "It's...$50." "Oh, no, I wouldn't like it held." (click)
He seemed like he wanted me to go to Hell.
I called the third one. "Hi, what time are you guys open till?" "10 PM." "OK, good. Do you guys have a copy of Metroid Prime 3: Corruption used?" "Let's see...nope. It's new for $50." "OK, thanks." (awkward pause) (click)
I was about to call the 4th Game Crazy, when I lost my nerve. I found it again whilst I was considering that if it's new, it may come without packaging, but that's good, because I already have a Twilight Princess package box kit...
If you have not realized by now, dear reader, might I suggest you take some advice I could have used, and get some coffee...as I have been calling around for a copy of Metroid Prime 3. Metroid Prime 3 works fine. I need a copy of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, not Metroid Prime 3!
Oh, where did I go wrong. You did not. Where did I folly? You did not. What caused me to err? You have not. Tiredness? You are never tired. You never sleep. Stupidity? Idiocy? Dimwittedness? What could it have possibly been, this force that made me make an idiotic display out of myself, and even still pushes me to blog about my embarrassment? It's so natural to say Metroid Prime 3: Corruption, I suppose.
Now I have to call them all back. I will wait an hour, and by then...hopefully they'll have forgotten. Ooh, embarrassment of embarrassments. And you know how much trouble I have with calling places! (Nintendo DS (Lite) Update -- the NDS will be getting some attention here shortly.) But now I know how late they are open, so I can just ask if they have TP on sale. They'll make no connection!
I'm sure more of them have TP used. It's a year old...MP3 is not. Ugh. Idiot!
I guess I can call the final Game Crazy I was going to call out of desperation; hopefully word has not yet gotten around to the other Game Crazy's of my stupidity. It's about 5 miles out of my parent's way.
Oh, drat. Their phone is not working. I'll call the first Game Crazy I called. Oohgh. Embarrassment. On hold...on hold...his computer isn't working right...they don't have one, but it would be $41 used. Weird.
My mom suggests that instead of feeling the awesome, glowing shame of calling the other two back, we should just get it new. They decided to stop by a game store to avoid going to Walmart. It was...a Gamestop. She called me to make sure I wanted a used one, and by the time I had called her back, it turned out that she had already bought the game new, despite the fact that they had the chance to buy it used (to their credit, it was only $8 more new, and they were trying to do good.)
So now I'm back on schedule...and seeing's how they stopped by Frys just for my brother, he'll be back on schedule by tomorrow as well.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to clean my room, then I'm going to play Twilight Princess. And attempt to kill Santa. If he is real. Which he isn't. Here, come get the cookies, Saint Nick...
Fresh goats milk...
...and gunpowder...
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Have a Very Zelda Christmas...wait a minute...
When you think of Christmas, you might think, "Wow, Santa in a red suit, I am so happy." You can be content to think that. It's your right. You may also think, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas is totally gr8 d00d lol!" and that's also your opinion. Hippie.
Thus, it's my right for The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess to mean Christmas. Santa Claus in a suit doesn't put me in the holiday spirit (neither do turtle doves?). Jingle Bells doesn't put me in a holiday spirit (neither does uh, moss growing on a rock?). But oh, Link galloping around on that horse (Epona) and Sumo-wrestling with large, rock-eating creatures that wear underwear (Gorons) just puts me right in gear to enjoy a good Christmas. Then there's Midna!
There will be no stockings hung on the mantel for Santa to fill (besides, 'mantle' just makes me think of that Great King of Evil), no tree for gifts to be left under. No lights on the house and no cookies left out, and we won't be asleep before midnight. Bah-humbug, Santa isn't real.
Oh, but I will be planning quite a night of playing Twilight Princess with glee, as Santa supposedly passes over. Throwing aside tradition tha...wait a minute...
...
......
Oh, dear.
Well...I am unsure how to deal with this. One on hand, I do not have a gun readily available. On the other hand, I did sharpen a knife just last week when I cut up all that meat. Decisions, decisions.
But before we end it all, let us contemplate reasonably like adults. The knife is dirty anyways. Seeing's how I began playing TP a year ago yesterday (the 22nd of December), I was supposed to begin playing yesterday. But church got in the way and said, "Nope, nope. Get to sleep early so that you can wake up in the middle of the night and get even less sleep than if you had just stayed up a few more hours."
Now like a ghost from the past I find out that TP will not play. Had I at least checked it yesterday, I would have been able to buy a new disc today on the way home. I am sure they're at a somewhat-possibly-reasonable price by now in the game stores. But no, I had to let my "I want to get to sleep" dreams get in my way. (Get it? Dreams? Sleep humor! Laugh, man!)
Now, let me go try once more, then I'll consider some more options.
Alright. Here's the history: bought the game and the Wii, December 22nd 2006. Played it for 9 hours a day for 7 days. Worked fine. Never stopped working. I put it away for a year. I come back and it does not read. It gets as far as the profile selection...then the color check...then it just does not start.
...well, I'm not all...in a happy mood right now. I did break tradition. I deserve this. The last time I broke tradition this bad was...let's see...
Actually...
I've never broken tradition this badly. Now I know that there is only one trick pony that can happy my mood. There is only one tricycle of joy that I can ride off into the sunset of glee. One wind of delight that can drift my hot-air balloon of gladness over the province of happiness.
Behold...I show unto you...the Zelda Rap. Complete with subtitles. Ooh, it burns. Can you literally feel the acid? Purifying...cleansing...no...just straight burning! Ah!
I think that's Link's uncle dude he lives with!
OH MAN, WHY IS LINK DANCING WITH SKELETONS AND ZOMBIES
WHY IS LINK AN ASIAN GIRL?
...WHY IS ZELDA AN ASIAN GIRL?!?
Quite honestly I have no idea why Agahnim is there so early. Wait...he did fight Link at first, didn't he?
SUPER FAMICOM
Link is totally the best dancer there, no wonder he pwnt Agahnim
LOL, there's that one FREAK that swung that mace when you try to rescue Zelda! I don't remember him looking like Ridley!
OH MY GOSH IT'S GANON HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL! LINK ZELDA STOP DANCING AND SHOOT HIM WITH LIGHT ARROWS!
[end]
Thus, it's my right for The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess to mean Christmas. Santa Claus in a suit doesn't put me in the holiday spirit (neither do turtle doves?). Jingle Bells doesn't put me in a holiday spirit (neither does uh, moss growing on a rock?). But oh, Link galloping around on that horse (Epona) and Sumo-wrestling with large, rock-eating creatures that wear underwear (Gorons) just puts me right in gear to enjoy a good Christmas. Then there's Midna!
There will be no stockings hung on the mantel for Santa to fill (besides, 'mantle' just makes me think of that Great King of Evil), no tree for gifts to be left under. No lights on the house and no cookies left out, and we won't be asleep before midnight. Bah-humbug, Santa isn't real.
Oh, but I will be planning quite a night of playing Twilight Princess with glee, as Santa supposedly passes over. Throwing aside tradition tha...wait a minute...
...
......
Oh, dear.
Well...I am unsure how to deal with this. One on hand, I do not have a gun readily available. On the other hand, I did sharpen a knife just last week when I cut up all that meat. Decisions, decisions.
But before we end it all, let us contemplate reasonably like adults. The knife is dirty anyways. Seeing's how I began playing TP a year ago yesterday (the 22nd of December), I was supposed to begin playing yesterday. But church got in the way and said, "Nope, nope. Get to sleep early so that you can wake up in the middle of the night and get even less sleep than if you had just stayed up a few more hours."
Now like a ghost from the past I find out that TP will not play. Had I at least checked it yesterday, I would have been able to buy a new disc today on the way home. I am sure they're at a somewhat-possibly-reasonable price by now in the game stores. But no, I had to let my "I want to get to sleep" dreams get in my way. (Get it? Dreams? Sleep humor! Laugh, man!)
Now, let me go try once more, then I'll consider some more options.
Alright. Here's the history: bought the game and the Wii, December 22nd 2006. Played it for 9 hours a day for 7 days. Worked fine. Never stopped working. I put it away for a year. I come back and it does not read. It gets as far as the profile selection...then the color check...then it just does not start.
...well, I'm not all...in a happy mood right now. I did break tradition. I deserve this. The last time I broke tradition this bad was...let's see...
Actually...
I've never broken tradition this badly. Now I know that there is only one trick pony that can happy my mood. There is only one tricycle of joy that I can ride off into the sunset of glee. One wind of delight that can drift my hot-air balloon of gladness over the province of happiness.
Behold...I show unto you...the Zelda Rap. Complete with subtitles. Ooh, it burns. Can you literally feel the acid? Purifying...cleansing...no...just straight burning! Ah!
I think that's Link's uncle dude he lives with!
OH MAN, WHY IS LINK DANCING WITH SKELETONS AND ZOMBIES
WHY IS LINK AN ASIAN GIRL?
...WHY IS ZELDA AN ASIAN GIRL?!?
Quite honestly I have no idea why Agahnim is there so early. Wait...he did fight Link at first, didn't he?
SUPER FAMICOM
Link is totally the best dancer there, no wonder he pwnt Agahnim
LOL, there's that one FREAK that swung that mace when you try to rescue Zelda! I don't remember him looking like Ridley!
OH MY GOSH IT'S GANON HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL! LINK ZELDA STOP DANCING AND SHOOT HIM WITH LIGHT ARROWS!
[end]
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Metroid Prime 3: Corruption
Wii. Nintendo Wii. Metroid. Metroid Prime. Samus. Samus Aran. Ah, yes. Ms. Aran. In all her blazing arm-cannon glory. Reigning the stars into a cage with her shoulder pads. How does the third and final installment in the Prime series rate?
Pretty darn good. See the other Prime reviews here: Metroid Prime, Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. Echoes was my first review of the series, and took over 9 hours to write (seriously). Bottom line, MP3 retains all of the gameplay of the previous 2, and that's what counts. I wholeheartedly endorse it, and if you like the previous two, there's no need to read this review. I finished it on December 4th, by the way.
Story:
Phazon (a deadly, ominous mutagen with much promise as an energy source) has spread, its usage has increased dramatically, and the Space Pirates have begun employing it in their war machine beyond Phazon mutations, powering ships and going so far as to make a deadly Phazon enhancement suit worn by almost all of their forces. The Galactic Federation has responded in kind with its own version of the Phazon enhancement suit, dubbed the PED: Phazon enhancement device. With these devices, both Pirates and GF marines can enter 'hypermode,' which increases their power exponentially. The GF version is considerably more deadly than the Space Pirate's version (displayed by Federation troops laying waste to Pirates), and poses less risk to the user.
Phazon seems to be transforming technology- and the galaxy- for the worse. The Galactic Federation's Aurora Units- large, organic, sentient supercomputers which can easily replace entire complements of technicians- have suddenly become infected with an incapacitating virus, rendering the majority of them all but useless. This seems to have come about from an attack on a Galactic Federation vessel, the G.F.S. Valhalla, perpetrated by the Space Pirates. The Valhalla's whereabouts are unknown, thought to be drifting in space. An "antidote" is formulated, but it must be hand-delivered to the Aurora Units before they can again become operational. And Dark Samus is back. She's such a drama queen.
Graphics:
I believe Metroid Prime 3 is closer to Prime 1 than Prime 2. Metroid Prime 3 is what I feel Prime 1 should have been- there are organic environments spattered with technology, and there are areas that are very high-tech, but without Prime 1's "unfinished" feel. They're very colorful, and typically I despise "vivid" color, but they're actually quite nice; not sure why. Any more colorful, and I would have turned down my TV color. The prevailing color is blue- the color of Phazon. Samus' visor now has a new look which I really like, as well as her ships' visor; little hint here, there are a few features of the cockpit you are not introduced to and kind of have to stumble upon. Two buttons above the thrusters, and 2 more on the opposite side.
There are some great, atmosphere-inducing spatial phenomena displayed; planets have pretty milky way types surrounding them. You do certainly feel like you're in space (you do NOT fly the ship manually), though the game is a bit lax in determining distance to planets. Travel between them doesn't appear to take long, as Samus uses a type of warp drive. There is a certain planet which has looming storm clouds, but they do not come and storm on you. That would have added a whole lot of atmosphere. Literally.
Also, if you're in a pressurized room, upon opening the door you'll have to walk against the vacuum to get out. Very nice touch. There are also some areas that have light shining through windows, and it appears that the room is dusty. That is, you can see the light on the dust. There is no nighttime-daytime rotation.
Sadly, Samus' appearance is still changing. She looks different in all three games; it is strange...in the first game, she looked really great and realistic; in the second game, she looked toony, but great; and in the third game, she looks really toony, but still great. The pattern here is that she's great! As touching her suit, it looks fine through most of the game...but I wish it was a little less colorful.
Controls:
This is what we all expect to be the best. It's for the Wii, and the Wii is the system that made a Dragon Ball Z game (Budokai Tenkaichi 2) not just tolerable, but fun. In my opinion, that's akin to taking a tunafish sandwich- made with stale bread- and serving it to the Queen of England instead of a 5-course dinner and her not having you killed. I am not alone in this opinion.
However, due to the near-perfection of the previous Prime games' controls and physics, the Wii controls don't add that much. That said, the Wii remote has its own quirks (such as Z-locking then moving the Wii remote out of the screen to make her cannon appear to rest against her body), and it is a lot more comfortable to hold the Wiimote and Nunchuk. Additionally, the boss fights are...now I will use a word I very infrequently use...sweet. I don't feel the controls are a great improvement, but aiming with the Wii remote is fun nonetheless.
The only thing that keeps the Wii controls from being better than the GC controls is...that it seems as if they take a smidgen of consecration from it; it's...somehow, not as controlled. Perhaps I just have the "Samus is a deadly killing machine who commits genocide" legalistic mentality and feel that she should always move in a certain way.
You travel around to diver's planets (sic, that's an inside joke) like in Metroid Prime: Hunters, however...you do NOT die when you fall off of something. I hated that. I hated that. I hated that. The system for changing planets is better with better cutscenes. It takes longer, but you can see a lot more and have several landing zones to choose from; it's fluid, and is more becoming.
Gameplay:
Well, it's a Prime game. The third in the series. The gameplay is more or less the same as the gameplay in the previous two, not surprisingly. There is a return to the basic, 1-beam weapon system akin to Metroid: Zero Mission. Everything is fine, except that I wish missiles traveled faster...I always wish that, though. Despite not traveling faster, and despite the lack of a burst-fire mode, they are very cool in this game...literally. You technically have two beams, but mainly you only have one.
I felt that MP3 had enough bosses. Some were very imaginative, and many are memorable ("Steam Lord.") Also, as I mentioned, the Wii remote makes the boss battles...sweet. As for the enemies, I disliked the generic Shriek Bats; there were several varieties, all attacked the same, but they had different names and looked different. The cheapest enemies since the Beam-flavored enemies in MP1- to add shame to embarrassment, they completely miss 95% of the time. Losers.
The Space Pirates play a larger role this time around. They're improved greatly, and look cooler. The Flying Pirates are a particular nuisance. The Inglets make a comeback, but they are not called Inglets (they're called "Phazon Ing!" Eugh!)- I would rather the Ing either come back full force, or not come back at all.
There is a new system which awards special tokens to "stylish" moves. The first I discovered was "Bowling for Bots," which entails smashing into a bunch of robots with a Morph Ball Boost. Sometimes these cause short, special cutscenes (a bridge blowing up behind Samus as she walks away). They're cool. I have absolutely no idea how many there are, but it would seem likely that there are many, and if you're the type to use a guide, I'd probably check them all out. They appear to be one-time. I am unsure.
Sound:
Metroid tends to have very good, memorable music. This installment has grand, high female singing (words are not audible; it's sort of "Ahhhh, ah-ooh-ah-uh, ahhh, ah, ah ouahh"). It's very memorable and evokes a lot of emotion. Filled with an agonizing dread, an "I can't believe the day has come" lump in my throat,I almost peed my pants the first time I loaded up the game I was completely unaffected by it as I am an emotionless man!
Voice acting ranges from alright to "that-must-be-a-publicity-stunt" bad (they have a gay man with attitude voice one character); Samus does NOT talk. I really, really dreaded her talking, so I'm relieved. She's perhaps the only truly silent protagonist I know. All the others I know of attempt to talk at times but are cut off (maybe not Link; I am unsure).
Now I will borrow a line from my Metroid Prime review:
One thing with Metroid Prime which wasn't fixed in Prime 2 (or even Prime 3, as far as I can tell), is that enemies do not recoil in pain. I dislike that. I figure you would lose the use of an arm for at least a few seconds if you got shot in the shoulder by an energy weapon. Now, I'm not saying they have to explode and shoot blood and gore 40 feet in each direction. Just...be hurt for a second. Oh, also, I did not see breasts on any of the creatures that I killed (I did not look too closely...), so I can assume I did not kill any females. Never mind how "stunning" limb-wounding would be with the Wii remote (stun humor! Laugh, man!). Also, I did not see breasts on any enemies, so I can assume I did not slaughter any females.
In ending, I give the game a 9.7, along with You're a Moron (Must Have) and Unique Gameplay awards. I will revisit and whittle this review at a later date (complete, Dec. 23; review has currently taken 5.5-6 hours, but I did no whittling!). Samus is not revealed any more than she is in Metroid Prime 2 (that is, she is shown in her zero suit, which is a pretty, blue full-body "jumpsuit"); I am therefore of good cheer. Next up is...The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. Oh, baby. I also just finished ALttP on DS; I may or may not review it.
Note that the review was posted at 3:33 PM originally.
Pretty darn good. See the other Prime reviews here: Metroid Prime, Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. Echoes was my first review of the series, and took over 9 hours to write (seriously). Bottom line, MP3 retains all of the gameplay of the previous 2, and that's what counts. I wholeheartedly endorse it, and if you like the previous two, there's no need to read this review. I finished it on December 4th, by the way.
Story:
Phazon (a deadly, ominous mutagen with much promise as an energy source) has spread, its usage has increased dramatically, and the Space Pirates have begun employing it in their war machine beyond Phazon mutations, powering ships and going so far as to make a deadly Phazon enhancement suit worn by almost all of their forces. The Galactic Federation has responded in kind with its own version of the Phazon enhancement suit, dubbed the PED: Phazon enhancement device. With these devices, both Pirates and GF marines can enter 'hypermode,' which increases their power exponentially. The GF version is considerably more deadly than the Space Pirate's version (displayed by Federation troops laying waste to Pirates), and poses less risk to the user.
Phazon seems to be transforming technology- and the galaxy- for the worse. The Galactic Federation's Aurora Units- large, organic, sentient supercomputers which can easily replace entire complements of technicians- have suddenly become infected with an incapacitating virus, rendering the majority of them all but useless. This seems to have come about from an attack on a Galactic Federation vessel, the G.F.S. Valhalla, perpetrated by the Space Pirates. The Valhalla's whereabouts are unknown, thought to be drifting in space. An "antidote" is formulated, but it must be hand-delivered to the Aurora Units before they can again become operational. And Dark Samus is back. She's such a drama queen.
Graphics:
I believe Metroid Prime 3 is closer to Prime 1 than Prime 2. Metroid Prime 3 is what I feel Prime 1 should have been- there are organic environments spattered with technology, and there are areas that are very high-tech, but without Prime 1's "unfinished" feel. They're very colorful, and typically I despise "vivid" color, but they're actually quite nice; not sure why. Any more colorful, and I would have turned down my TV color. The prevailing color is blue- the color of Phazon. Samus' visor now has a new look which I really like, as well as her ships' visor; little hint here, there are a few features of the cockpit you are not introduced to and kind of have to stumble upon. Two buttons above the thrusters, and 2 more on the opposite side.
There are some great, atmosphere-inducing spatial phenomena displayed; planets have pretty milky way types surrounding them. You do certainly feel like you're in space (you do NOT fly the ship manually), though the game is a bit lax in determining distance to planets. Travel between them doesn't appear to take long, as Samus uses a type of warp drive. There is a certain planet which has looming storm clouds, but they do not come and storm on you. That would have added a whole lot of atmosphere. Literally.
Also, if you're in a pressurized room, upon opening the door you'll have to walk against the vacuum to get out. Very nice touch. There are also some areas that have light shining through windows, and it appears that the room is dusty. That is, you can see the light on the dust. There is no nighttime-daytime rotation.
Sadly, Samus' appearance is still changing. She looks different in all three games; it is strange...in the first game, she looked really great and realistic; in the second game, she looked toony, but great; and in the third game, she looks really toony, but still great. The pattern here is that she's great! As touching her suit, it looks fine through most of the game...but I wish it was a little less colorful.
Controls:
This is what we all expect to be the best. It's for the Wii, and the Wii is the system that made a Dragon Ball Z game (Budokai Tenkaichi 2) not just tolerable, but fun. In my opinion, that's akin to taking a tunafish sandwich- made with stale bread- and serving it to the Queen of England instead of a 5-course dinner and her not having you killed. I am not alone in this opinion.
However, due to the near-perfection of the previous Prime games' controls and physics, the Wii controls don't add that much. That said, the Wii remote has its own quirks (such as Z-locking then moving the Wii remote out of the screen to make her cannon appear to rest against her body), and it is a lot more comfortable to hold the Wiimote and Nunchuk. Additionally, the boss fights are...now I will use a word I very infrequently use...sweet. I don't feel the controls are a great improvement, but aiming with the Wii remote is fun nonetheless.
The only thing that keeps the Wii controls from being better than the GC controls is...that it seems as if they take a smidgen of consecration from it; it's...somehow, not as controlled. Perhaps I just have the "Samus is a deadly killing machine who commits genocide" legalistic mentality and feel that she should always move in a certain way.
You travel around to diver's planets (sic, that's an inside joke) like in Metroid Prime: Hunters, however...you do NOT die when you fall off of something. I hated that. I hated that. I hated that. The system for changing planets is better with better cutscenes. It takes longer, but you can see a lot more and have several landing zones to choose from; it's fluid, and is more becoming.
Gameplay:
Well, it's a Prime game. The third in the series. The gameplay is more or less the same as the gameplay in the previous two, not surprisingly. There is a return to the basic, 1-beam weapon system akin to Metroid: Zero Mission. Everything is fine, except that I wish missiles traveled faster...I always wish that, though. Despite not traveling faster, and despite the lack of a burst-fire mode, they are very cool in this game...literally. You technically have two beams, but mainly you only have one.
I felt that MP3 had enough bosses. Some were very imaginative, and many are memorable ("Steam Lord.") Also, as I mentioned, the Wii remote makes the boss battles...sweet. As for the enemies, I disliked the generic Shriek Bats; there were several varieties, all attacked the same, but they had different names and looked different. The cheapest enemies since the Beam-flavored enemies in MP1- to add shame to embarrassment, they completely miss 95% of the time. Losers.
The Space Pirates play a larger role this time around. They're improved greatly, and look cooler. The Flying Pirates are a particular nuisance. The Inglets make a comeback, but they are not called Inglets (they're called "Phazon Ing!" Eugh!)- I would rather the Ing either come back full force, or not come back at all.
There is a new system which awards special tokens to "stylish" moves. The first I discovered was "Bowling for Bots," which entails smashing into a bunch of robots with a Morph Ball Boost. Sometimes these cause short, special cutscenes (a bridge blowing up behind Samus as she walks away). They're cool. I have absolutely no idea how many there are, but it would seem likely that there are many, and if you're the type to use a guide, I'd probably check them all out. They appear to be one-time. I am unsure.
Sound:
Metroid tends to have very good, memorable music. This installment has grand, high female singing (words are not audible; it's sort of "Ahhhh, ah-ooh-ah-uh, ahhh, ah, ah ouahh"). It's very memorable and evokes a lot of emotion. Filled with an agonizing dread, an "I can't believe the day has come" lump in my throat,
Voice acting ranges from alright to "that-must-be-a-publicity-stunt" bad (they have a gay man with attitude voice one character); Samus does NOT talk. I really, really dreaded her talking, so I'm relieved. She's perhaps the only truly silent protagonist I know. All the others I know of attempt to talk at times but are cut off (maybe not Link; I am unsure).
Now I will borrow a line from my Metroid Prime review:
One thing with Metroid Prime which wasn't fixed in Prime 2 (or even Prime 3, as far as I can tell), is that enemies do not recoil in pain. I dislike that. I figure you would lose the use of an arm for at least a few seconds if you got shot in the shoulder by an energy weapon. Now, I'm not saying they have to explode and shoot blood and gore 40 feet in each direction. Just...be hurt for a second. Oh, also, I did not see breasts on any of the creatures that I killed (I did not look too closely...), so I can assume I did not kill any females. Never mind how "stunning" limb-wounding would be with the Wii remote (stun humor! Laugh, man!). Also, I did not see breasts on any enemies, so I can assume I did not slaughter any females.
In ending, I give the game a 9.7, along with You're a Moron (Must Have) and Unique Gameplay awards. I will revisit and whittle this review at a later date (complete, Dec. 23; review has currently taken 5.5-6 hours, but I did no whittling!). Samus is not revealed any more than she is in Metroid Prime 2 (that is, she is shown in her zero suit, which is a pretty, blue full-body "jumpsuit"); I am therefore of good cheer. Next up is...The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. Oh, baby. I also just finished ALttP on DS; I may or may not review it.
Note that the review was posted at 3:33 PM originally.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Where's the Dead Animal Flesh?
In the freezer! Yes! Observe the photo below and weep bitterly!
Isn't it great? Of course it is! There's
Now, I've been craving chicken fried steak lately (we'll probably have it for dinner tonight), so I will teach you how to prepare chicken fried steak meat. You have to pound it really, really thin for some reason. I am unsure of why.
First, look on the "before" square, below. Then you'll see how much bigger of a steak you get when you flatten it. If you have morons in your household, it's simple to make them think they're getting a huge steak.
You must hit it really, really hard. If you hit it right, it should only take one hit. Note that I used the Deni meat tenderizer on it before I pounded it at all...why? I don't know, I like the thing. It makes me happy. See the below picture. This is what it should look like after one swing. If it doesn't, just hit it again, and that should do it.
Then you pepper it real good and hit it with some salt, then coat it with some flour, and bake it in a pan on the stovetop in some lard or something. It's real simple. I've used Alton Brown's Chicken Fried Steak recipe at FoodNetwork.com. I'm totally not sure if it's a good recipe or not (speaking in terms of better recipes), but come on, it's steak with pepper and flour. E plus Z equals E+Z.
----------------------------------
My mom informed me that she hates chicken fried steak. My parents' tastes frustrate me. Someday, I will understand them...perhaps it is their hormones. Until then, I will continue to have no remorse nor empathy for them in the matter of not liking perfectly good food.
Sorry guys.
Isn't it great? Of course it is! There's
- 2 dinners worth of pork
- 7 dinners worth of cow steak
- 1 dinner of chopped beef (1/4 inch cubes)
- 1 dinner of meat prepared as unto the Pioneer Woman's direction for Marlboro Man's Favorite Sandwich
- 1 dinner of meat prepared for chicken fried steak.
Now, I've been craving chicken fried steak lately (we'll probably have it for dinner tonight), so I will teach you how to prepare chicken fried steak meat. You have to pound it really, really thin for some reason. I am unsure of why.
First, look on the "before" square, below. Then you'll see how much bigger of a steak you get when you flatten it. If you have morons in your household, it's simple to make them think they're getting a huge steak.
You must hit it really, really hard. If you hit it right, it should only take one hit. Note that I used the Deni meat tenderizer on it before I pounded it at all...why? I don't know, I like the thing. It makes me happy. See the below picture. This is what it should look like after one swing. If it doesn't, just hit it again, and that should do it.
Then you pepper it real good and hit it with some salt, then coat it with some flour, and bake it in a pan on the stovetop in some lard or something. It's real simple. I've used Alton Brown's Chicken Fried Steak recipe at FoodNetwork.com. I'm totally not sure if it's a good recipe or not (speaking in terms of better recipes), but come on, it's steak with pepper and flour. E plus Z equals E+Z.
----------------------------------
My mom informed me that she hates chicken fried steak. My parents' tastes frustrate me. Someday, I will understand them...perhaps it is their hormones. Until then, I will continue to have no remorse nor empathy for them in the matter of not liking perfectly good food.
Sorry guys.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Church This Week: December 16th, 2007
Back by popular demand. My mom wondered where it was, and my Pastor last night demanded to know where it was, so here it is. You guys can put away the torches and the pitchforks. Instead, break out some marshmallow forks, and let's sit around a camp fire and exchange stories of peace. Rock on, brother. Sorry, I've been spending too much time with the Hitman. See the custom-made post today detailing his hippy love.
Last Sunday me and my dad went to church together. My mom didn't go because she was home baking cookies for 4 hours. We talked with Mr. dataDyne (he's a techie guy with a bit of evil, looming multinational corporation lead by extraterrestrials in him) before the service began, and I asked if RJ ever dressed up as an elf for Christmas. He said "No, but if you want, we can capture him and make him dress like an elf."
So it's set; we're going to camp on the roof of the covered parking, and as soon as he pulls up and gets out of the car, we're going to force an elf costume on him. I was going to make a joke about Link, but no one would get it.
Pastor made some announcements. He was blathering about a prison ministry and reading a letter from a man currently incarcerated. Have I ever told you about our experience with the prison ministry? I haven't? What?! Yes I have! You liar!
In fact, check this post here I just made simply to spite you. Liar.
After the Justice updated us on the prison ministry (I was getting itchy ears for an update), Mrs. Fletchingbird revealed that her brother is dying. Let's hope he's saved. I did learn something; I now know to wait until after the service to dispense such bad news. You can't drag your feet and be sad and mourn over something while trying to be receptive to a message...and especially not when giving a message.
I've decided that I'm making custom sacrilegious rosaries for people to take home and pray over if I ever need prayer. If they're gonna pray for me, they're gonna do it with sacrilegious items.
Then he mentioned a Bible conference. Previously, I had been elbowing my dad when the Justice mentioned prison ministry, and now he was elbowing me when Pastor would mention the Bible conference. It seems like all the cool kids go to Bible conferences, and it's where all the coolest kids gather to teach. It's in California. I've never been out of Arizona, and I'd have to go by myself. I'd have to meet a lot of new people and represent our church. A scary thought.
Nevertheless, I am going to push ahead, and make it my lofty goal to attend the Bible conference. (By the way, my Pastor seems to think he needs to sign in to comment? All he has to do is check the Anonymous box. My mom didn't grasp the simplicity, either. In fact, it would be best, because if "they" had his real name, they'd use it to slay me, just like Dooplis. Ahhh...no one gets it...you know...in Twilight Town...ahh...no one gets it...Paper Mario...agh...)
Pastor said to be sparing with the informative papers, so I took one home in a form that will last- a picture! According to the photo log, there will be "youth" activities provided at specified times. Perhaps a burning furnace will be fashioned and they'll lock us in it.
The longest length of preaching will be for 3 hours, and I assume there'll be an hour before that and 2-3 hours after that just "chilling out of the side," as the youngers (sic) put it, but my brain goes to mush after 2 hours, so I'll need to work on that. The Crude Justice will be there (he runs our "sister" church in Chicago), as well as the Raw Justice (our pastor). There's also going to be some pastors named Morris Pecan and John Vertigo. With a name like Vertigo, it must be hard to be a pastor. Definition: A confused, disoriented state of mind. Ouch.
I think of Romans 1:12:
11: For I long to see you, that I may impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established;
12: That is, that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.
And there you have it. Hopefully, someone will want to carpool. We can split the cost of everything, and be pals. We can also sneak out to the back of the hotel and smoke cigarettes until we vomit, then tell everyone we didn't vomit and make a lifelong pact not to tell anyone we vomited. Ahh, the childhood memories involving cigarettes I do not have.
The other possibility is to rent a car for me to take. If it gets 25-30 MPG, that'll be enough savings in gas to pay for the cost of renting it (and not cause wear nor tear on our Pathfinder). I'm guessing the cost to go to be $600.
Last night, I took one of the Golden Tickets Pastor says you have to have to go. He didn't call them that, but that's what they are, apparently. I need to find out which fool to call to reserve my hotel room and spot in the conference. I'll call this Sunday, as (church) answering people are typically in on Sunday mornings.
Pastor says that it's just like a normal Sunday, except that it lasts three times as long, is in California, and it has four pastors all clamoring and climbing over eachother like Trace in the MP:H opening movie for the glory instead of just one, and sometimes books are thrown into the audience at random.
To round out the day, the Hitman informed me that the Stingrays at the Phoenix Zoo do not have stings in them. He said that "I've tried to make innovative poisons from enough severed stingray tails to know they don't have it in them." Distressing.
Last Sunday me and my dad went to church together. My mom didn't go because she was home baking cookies for 4 hours. We talked with Mr. dataDyne (he's a techie guy with a bit of evil, looming multinational corporation lead by extraterrestrials in him) before the service began, and I asked if RJ ever dressed up as an elf for Christmas. He said "No, but if you want, we can capture him and make him dress like an elf."
So it's set; we're going to camp on the roof of the covered parking, and as soon as he pulls up and gets out of the car, we're going to force an elf costume on him. I was going to make a joke about Link, but no one would get it.
Pastor made some announcements. He was blathering about a prison ministry and reading a letter from a man currently incarcerated. Have I ever told you about our experience with the prison ministry? I haven't? What?! Yes I have! You liar!
In fact, check this post here I just made simply to spite you. Liar.
After the Justice updated us on the prison ministry (I was getting itchy ears for an update), Mrs. Fletchingbird revealed that her brother is dying. Let's hope he's saved. I did learn something; I now know to wait until after the service to dispense such bad news. You can't drag your feet and be sad and mourn over something while trying to be receptive to a message...and especially not when giving a message.
I've decided that I'm making custom sacrilegious rosaries for people to take home and pray over if I ever need prayer. If they're gonna pray for me, they're gonna do it with sacrilegious items.
Then he mentioned a Bible conference. Previously, I had been elbowing my dad when the Justice mentioned prison ministry, and now he was elbowing me when Pastor would mention the Bible conference. It seems like all the cool kids go to Bible conferences, and it's where all the coolest kids gather to teach. It's in California. I've never been out of Arizona, and I'd have to go by myself. I'd have to meet a lot of new people and represent our church. A scary thought.
Nevertheless, I am going to push ahead, and make it my lofty goal to attend the Bible conference. (By the way, my Pastor seems to think he needs to sign in to comment? All he has to do is check the Anonymous box. My mom didn't grasp the simplicity, either. In fact, it would be best, because if "they" had his real name, they'd use it to slay me, just like Dooplis. Ahhh...no one gets it...you know...in Twilight Town...ahh...no one gets it...Paper Mario...agh...)
Pastor said to be sparing with the informative papers, so I took one home in a form that will last- a picture! According to the photo log, there will be "youth" activities provided at specified times. Perhaps a burning furnace will be fashioned and they'll lock us in it.
The longest length of preaching will be for 3 hours, and I assume there'll be an hour before that and 2-3 hours after that just "chilling out of the side," as the youngers (sic) put it, but my brain goes to mush after 2 hours, so I'll need to work on that. The Crude Justice will be there (he runs our "sister" church in Chicago), as well as the Raw Justice (our pastor). There's also going to be some pastors named Morris Pecan and John Vertigo. With a name like Vertigo, it must be hard to be a pastor. Definition: A confused, disoriented state of mind. Ouch.
I think of Romans 1:12:
11: For I long to see you, that I may impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established;
12: That is, that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.
And there you have it. Hopefully, someone will want to carpool. We can split the cost of everything, and be pals. We can also sneak out to the back of the hotel and smoke cigarettes until we vomit, then tell everyone we didn't vomit and make a lifelong pact not to tell anyone we vomited. Ahh, the childhood memories involving cigarettes I do not have.
The other possibility is to rent a car for me to take. If it gets 25-30 MPG, that'll be enough savings in gas to pay for the cost of renting it (and not cause wear nor tear on our Pathfinder). I'm guessing the cost to go to be $600.
Last night, I took one of the Golden Tickets Pastor says you have to have to go. He didn't call them that, but that's what they are, apparently. I need to find out which fool to call to reserve my hotel room and spot in the conference. I'll call this Sunday, as (church) answering people are typically in on Sunday mornings.
Pastor says that it's just like a normal Sunday, except that it lasts three times as long, is in California, and it has four pastors all clamoring and climbing over eachother like Trace in the MP:H opening movie for the glory instead of just one, and sometimes books are thrown into the audience at random.
To round out the day, the Hitman informed me that the Stingrays at the Phoenix Zoo do not have stings in them. He said that "I've tried to make innovative poisons from enough severed stingray tails to know they don't have it in them." Distressing.
Peace? Sign? Peace sign?
[See the post that puts this post in context: Church This Week: December 16th, 2007.]
Well, you know who the Hitman is, right? He is a higher-up at my church, and he has a tainted past.
It all began when he was born to a heavily Catholic family. When he was very young ("God's number" 7 years old), they decided, for whatever reason, to send him to be near the Pope at the Vatican. They could not have known what fate awaited.
He met Vaticandorf (I am unsure if that's the Pope or not?), and they decided he should become a Vatican assassin. They sent him to be trained in the art of killing. Hush-hush stuff, of course. Apparently, you can become addicted to killing...which he reminds us of quite frequently.
When 9/11 occurred, he went out in search of God. The 10 commandments scared him (fear), as he had no excuse for the lies and murders he had committed (as he no longer realized the Pope's authority to justify his "soul quenchings.") Everyone welcome the Friends/Pals tag. For my friends and/or pals, both of which I count the Hitman...as.
Now he is turned around to the point that he flashes the peace sign, if you can believe it. He showed me a few weeks ago (during Bible study night) a map in his Bible of the Red Sea. He was attempting to show me how it is a peace sign. See the picture, below. The pic is of my Bible (he still has "camera phobia," as a killer's worst fear is a picture and he still has it instilled, so I couldn't photograph his).
Now, see the Red Sea? There looks to be two prongs? Well, I thought it looked like a worm with antennae. If it were a hand, where are the other fingers? And where's the thumb? And where is the body the hand should be attached to?! He finally got frustrated enough to give up on me.
But Tuesday night, I finally understood what he meant when I saw something similar at the source of the Zora's River! See the picture I took of my DS Lite screen, below. In case you didn't know (you disgust me), the screenshot is of ALttP (your lack of understanding of the acronym also annoys me.)
Yes. See right next to Link? OH NO, OH NO. I have been blogging for the last half hour, and I wept (in a bad way) through Spiritual Warfare, and I bittered through some lady blathering, but now TCT Here is the festering, maggot-infested tag of Things I Hate Rejoice is on, and I find myself annoyed enough to break my blog concentration to SHUT. THEM. UP.
"GO REJOICE IN THE BURNING PITS OF HELL," I scream as I turn off the Satellite box.
Now I'm in a bitter mood. I feel like Charlie Brown after trying to kick the football for the umpteenth time.
Well, you know who the Hitman is, right? He is a higher-up at my church, and he has a tainted past.
It all began when he was born to a heavily Catholic family. When he was very young ("God's number" 7 years old), they decided, for whatever reason, to send him to be near the Pope at the Vatican. They could not have known what fate awaited.
He met Vaticandorf (I am unsure if that's the Pope or not?), and they decided he should become a Vatican assassin. They sent him to be trained in the art of killing. Hush-hush stuff, of course. Apparently, you can become addicted to killing...which he reminds us of quite frequently.
When 9/11 occurred, he went out in search of God. The 10 commandments scared him (fear), as he had no excuse for the lies and murders he had committed (as he no longer realized the Pope's authority to justify his "soul quenchings.") Everyone welcome the Friends/Pals tag. For my friends and/or pals, both of which I count the Hitman...as.
Now he is turned around to the point that he flashes the peace sign, if you can believe it. He showed me a few weeks ago (during Bible study night) a map in his Bible of the Red Sea. He was attempting to show me how it is a peace sign. See the picture, below. The pic is of my Bible (he still has "camera phobia," as a killer's worst fear is a picture and he still has it instilled, so I couldn't photograph his).
Now, see the Red Sea? There looks to be two prongs? Well, I thought it looked like a worm with antennae. If it were a hand, where are the other fingers? And where's the thumb? And where is the body the hand should be attached to?! He finally got frustrated enough to give up on me.But Tuesday night, I finally understood what he meant when I saw something similar at the source of the Zora's River! See the picture I took of my DS Lite screen, below. In case you didn't know (you disgust me), the screenshot is of ALttP (your lack of understanding of the acronym also annoys me.)
Yes. See right next to Link? OH NO, OH NO. I have been blogging for the last half hour, and I wept (in a bad way) through Spiritual Warfare, and I bittered through some lady blathering, but now TCT Here is the festering, maggot-infested tag of Things I Hate Rejoice is on, and I find myself annoyed enough to break my blog concentration to SHUT. THEM. UP.
"GO REJOICE IN THE BURNING PITS OF HELL," I scream as I turn off the Satellite box.
Now I'm in a bitter mood. I feel like Charlie Brown after trying to kick the football for the umpteenth time.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
What does Jesus want for His birthday?
So, I'm watching Rejoice on TCT right now. Apparently, you can't attend someone's birthday party without bringing the guest of honor a present, so we need to discover what Jesus wants for Christmas. Because he was totally born on December 25th.
They want to know my favorite Christmas carol; these people annoy me. Nevertheless, my favorite carol is Here Comes Paul.
You've heard Here Comes Paul, right?
What? You totally haven't? No way, dude. You're lying! Really? Hmm.
Well, it goes like this. It sounds sort of like another song that involves somebody coming down a lane, so you can sing it to that tune if you like.
Here comes Paul!
Here comes Paul!
Right down Pauline lane!
Romans, 2 Corinthians, Galatians and Ephesians,
Philippians and Colossians!
Rightly dividing right and left,
The four Gospels aren't to us,
Cause Paul is our Apostle yeah!
Here comes Paul!
Here comes Paul!
Right down Pauline lane!
He's got teachings direct from Christ
And he tells us just the same.
2 Thessalonians, 2 Timothies and
Philemon just for us.
Rightly divide, else Law and Grace collide
You just gotta divide them right.
My parents don't really like it. Typically they enjoy my songs, so I can only assume there is a silent resentment or pot of simmering despite brewing. We will see how the plot unfolds, and once it does, we will strike it over the head. Or...other aptly named appendage that is ripe for the striking.
Their problem is that they get caught up in the technicalities...they fail to see the big picture. Usually, I fail to see the big picture. The big picture is this: carolers on every corner of every third street, all singing Here Comes Paul. Yes...yes.
As for TCT's Here is the festering, maggot-infested tag of Things I Hate Rejoice, I give it a 2/10 for their unbridled, raw, amazingly embarrassing display which causes me to disgust them very, very deeply. Not since Tim and Willy in the Mornings have I been this purely disgusted with a talk show based upon viewing them for less than 10 minutes.
Now if you'll excuse me...I need to go simmer for a while. Ooh, ahh, anger. Tss. Hot.
They want to know my favorite Christmas carol; these people annoy me. Nevertheless, my favorite carol is Here Comes Paul.
You've heard Here Comes Paul, right?
What? You totally haven't? No way, dude. You're lying! Really? Hmm.
Well, it goes like this. It sounds sort of like another song that involves somebody coming down a lane, so you can sing it to that tune if you like.
Here comes Paul!
Here comes Paul!
Right down Pauline lane!
Romans, 2 Corinthians, Galatians and Ephesians,
Philippians and Colossians!
Rightly dividing right and left,
The four Gospels aren't to us,
Cause Paul is our Apostle yeah!
Here comes Paul!
Here comes Paul!
Right down Pauline lane!
He's got teachings direct from Christ
And he tells us just the same.
2 Thessalonians, 2 Timothies and
Philemon just for us.
Rightly divide, else Law and Grace collide
You just gotta divide them right.
My parents don't really like it. Typically they enjoy my songs, so I can only assume there is a silent resentment or pot of simmering despite brewing. We will see how the plot unfolds, and once it does, we will strike it over the head. Or...other aptly named appendage that is ripe for the striking.
Their problem is that they get caught up in the technicalities...they fail to see the big picture. Usually, I fail to see the big picture. The big picture is this: carolers on every corner of every third street, all singing Here Comes Paul. Yes...yes.
As for TCT's Here is the festering, maggot-infested tag of Things I Hate Rejoice, I give it a 2/10 for their unbridled, raw, amazingly embarrassing display which causes me to disgust them very, very deeply. Not since Tim and Willy in the Mornings have I been this purely disgusted with a talk show based upon viewing them for less than 10 minutes.
Now if you'll excuse me...I need to go simmer for a while. Ooh, ahh, anger. Tss. Hot.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Updated Posts: How I almost fell for Charismania
Check the "sister" post, Church This Week: December 16th, 2007. Note: I am rearranging, editing, and linking to posts, and this is a gradual process, so this may not show up immediately. Note: what I meant was that I was still writing the other post.
I edited and updated some posts today. I need to update all but 80 or so of my posts due to grammatical errors and wording issues.
I updated the posts:
Hold Up, Wait a Minute
Reflection of Kev
Tomorrow
"GO"
For grammatical or otherwise errors. I retained most of the heart-wrenchingly embarrassing contents of the latter two.
Why did I update these posts today, and not in order like all the other posts I update in the dead of night? Well, the first two were random, but the latter two were so I could discuss my dad's involvement in the justice system. Pastor made an announcement yesterday on the state of our miniature prison ministry (we send a few guys information, they learn it, we all win!).
During the time my dad was in jail, he had to deal with a guy named Mike. Mike, knowingly or not, tried to shipwreck our faith. The typical charismatic preacher centered around money.
See these posts: Tomorrow and "GO". (Lord Jesus Christ, help me to cope with the unstoppable embarrassment! Aah! Making himself of no reputation! In all lowliness! AHH, IT BURNS! ACID, ACIIID!)
Post Twin Powers activate, and together they detail the before and after of what happens when you allow your emotions to guide you and (almost) lose secure spiritual footing. I now understand so much more than I did at that time, but I knew enough then to know that he was not correct.
He was a preacher or pastor type guy. Traveled around. His trouble began when his pyramid scheme collapsed; he was sent to jail, and sentenced to 3 months. He ran the scheme with two other people, and between them they had to pay back $3,000,000. I am unsure of the logistics, but it seems a life sentence; for example, 400 years is just for the "rest of life" effect, like this 3 mil is. I'm sure he won't pay it all off. Though he did attempt to wrangle us into a pyramid scam while he was still in jail, so uh...yeah. Maybe he will pay it off, if he keeps that up!
He can talk a good talk, but doesn't mention much scripture. I was thinking last night of why Hal Lindsey frustrates me, and I came up with "He doesn't give a scrip of scripture," or "He doesn't exactly put the scrip in scripture." Ooh, that's almost as cold as an email I sent my Pastor today. Ice, ice, ice. I spoke of how non-computer users are fools who just slum their way through life, oblivious. I got a taste of it during the 4-day computer break, and it made me sick.
Anyway, Mike claimed he had a direct line of contact with God. Verbally, through dreams, to his heart, "whatever." He claimed he healed a baby back to life. He also claimed that the hand of God reached down and drug him out of the water, or an angel, or whatever. He expressed no doctrine beyond "the Father, Son and Holy Ghost." I guess that's almost all you need, but still, no edification whatsoever, and no rooting or grounding in Grace or any establishing. Problem: I was immediately blinded by him because I had previously never talked to anyone (outside of my mom/dad) about Christ.
Due to our lack of personal leadership (I had never been in a church before our current church) Mike almost had us believing in miracle healings. He had fooled my dad, and I trusted my dad on it, thus fooling me as well (not that I'm bashing my dad!). If you read the aforelinked posts, Tomorrow and "GO", you can see my progress from trusting the guy to realizing he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Simply, I now realize that what I experienced was far, far too full of "plot holes" to be of God. No rhyme or reason to it, and I refuse to have a fearful faith.
Finally, once more I'll answer the question, Why was my dad in jail?
I don't think I can answer this enough...basically, he used to drink heavily. He then got arrested for drunk driving. Then he got released from prison, and failed probation. He was then "on the lamb" for 10 years; he did not actively "run," they just never found him. He turned himself in last November, and was in jail for 5 months. Then released on normal probation.
After he became legal, we began attending church (also, he and mom got remarried), and that's where I heard about this prison ministry, prompting this post. Cause and effect, isn't it a great thing?
We sort of have a tender spot in our heart for the prison ministry, because we know what it's like to be so limited in our intake of knowledge. My dad does, at least, and I know what it's like to be an older son, and my mom knows what it's like to be a wife.
Pastor has a slight way of letting people know stuff needs to be done. At the Lord's Table this year, he said that we'd be needing someone to teach classes in the future. I knew he was talking to me, but I let him think I didn't know. I just smiled patiently.
But this week, he spoke directly to me about it! He suggested I go kick a cop in the knee real hard, and then I can insert myself into the prison system, and start a Grace congregation! I asked him, "But then won't I be locked up?" and he said "Go read Acts 16:23-24." Sure enough, it DOES say Paul was locked in jail, and apparently an earthquake broke him out! Yes, a grand plan! So, here's how it'll work:
I can't wait!
I edited and updated some posts today. I need to update all but 80 or so of my posts due to grammatical errors and wording issues.
I updated the posts:
Hold Up, Wait a Minute
Reflection of Kev
Tomorrow
"GO"
For grammatical or otherwise errors. I retained most of the heart-wrenchingly embarrassing contents of the latter two.
Why did I update these posts today, and not in order like all the other posts I update in the dead of night? Well, the first two were random, but the latter two were so I could discuss my dad's involvement in the justice system. Pastor made an announcement yesterday on the state of our miniature prison ministry (we send a few guys information, they learn it, we all win!).
During the time my dad was in jail, he had to deal with a guy named Mike. Mike, knowingly or not, tried to shipwreck our faith. The typical charismatic preacher centered around money.
See these posts: Tomorrow and "GO". (Lord Jesus Christ, help me to cope with the unstoppable embarrassment! Aah! Making himself of no reputation! In all lowliness! AHH, IT BURNS! ACID, ACIIID!)
Post Twin Powers activate, and together they detail the before and after of what happens when you allow your emotions to guide you and (almost) lose secure spiritual footing. I now understand so much more than I did at that time, but I knew enough then to know that he was not correct.
He was a preacher or pastor type guy. Traveled around. His trouble began when his pyramid scheme collapsed; he was sent to jail, and sentenced to 3 months. He ran the scheme with two other people, and between them they had to pay back $3,000,000. I am unsure of the logistics, but it seems a life sentence; for example, 400 years is just for the "rest of life" effect, like this 3 mil is. I'm sure he won't pay it all off. Though he did attempt to wrangle us into a pyramid scam while he was still in jail, so uh...yeah. Maybe he will pay it off, if he keeps that up!
He can talk a good talk, but doesn't mention much scripture. I was thinking last night of why Hal Lindsey frustrates me, and I came up with "He doesn't give a scrip of scripture," or "He doesn't exactly put the scrip in scripture." Ooh, that's almost as cold as an email I sent my Pastor today. Ice, ice, ice. I spoke of how non-computer users are fools who just slum their way through life, oblivious. I got a taste of it during the 4-day computer break, and it made me sick.
Anyway, Mike claimed he had a direct line of contact with God. Verbally, through dreams, to his heart, "whatever." He claimed he healed a baby back to life. He also claimed that the hand of God reached down and drug him out of the water, or an angel, or whatever. He expressed no doctrine beyond "the Father, Son and Holy Ghost." I guess that's almost all you need, but still, no edification whatsoever, and no rooting or grounding in Grace or any establishing. Problem: I was immediately blinded by him because I had previously never talked to anyone (outside of my mom/dad) about Christ.
Due to our lack of personal leadership (I had never been in a church before our current church) Mike almost had us believing in miracle healings. He had fooled my dad, and I trusted my dad on it, thus fooling me as well (not that I'm bashing my dad!). If you read the aforelinked posts, Tomorrow and "GO", you can see my progress from trusting the guy to realizing he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Simply, I now realize that what I experienced was far, far too full of "plot holes" to be of God. No rhyme or reason to it, and I refuse to have a fearful faith.
Finally, once more I'll answer the question, Why was my dad in jail?
I don't think I can answer this enough...basically, he used to drink heavily. He then got arrested for drunk driving. Then he got released from prison, and failed probation. He was then "on the lamb" for 10 years; he did not actively "run," they just never found him. He turned himself in last November, and was in jail for 5 months. Then released on normal probation.
After he became legal, we began attending church (also, he and mom got remarried), and that's where I heard about this prison ministry, prompting this post. Cause and effect, isn't it a great thing?
We sort of have a tender spot in our heart for the prison ministry, because we know what it's like to be so limited in our intake of knowledge. My dad does, at least, and I know what it's like to be an older son, and my mom knows what it's like to be a wife.
Pastor has a slight way of letting people know stuff needs to be done. At the Lord's Table this year, he said that we'd be needing someone to teach classes in the future. I knew he was talking to me, but I let him think I didn't know. I just smiled patiently.
But this week, he spoke directly to me about it! He suggested I go kick a cop in the knee real hard, and then I can insert myself into the prison system, and start a Grace congregation! I asked him, "But then won't I be locked up?" and he said "Go read Acts 16:23-24." Sure enough, it DOES say Paul was locked in jail, and apparently an earthquake broke him out! Yes, a grand plan! So, here's how it'll work:
- Kick a police officer in the knee (figure out what "real hard" is on the force continuum)
- During the arrest, tell him "I'll tell you when I've had enough!" and ask where my whiskey is
- Act belligerent to the judge to increase my sentence from "knee kicking" to "prison time"
- Arrive at prison and instantly begin my new Grace congregation
- When the prisoners hear our Christ is Lord Gracetet (like a quartet), that'll be God's cue for the earthquake
- I convert Joe Arpaio, who will be visiting randomly and sleeping at the prison.
I can't wait!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Stingrays and Kev takes a break
Much has been said about these ferocious beings. Some say they swim underwater. Some say they sting things. Some say that up to 80% of them are nicknamed "Ray." It's a widely accepted fact that they are weird looking.
I had the chance to photograph some stingrays today. Here are the awesome picz I took manq!
Can you see it?! Yeah! Right there next to the ominous, cloudy cloud!
I didn't think the pictures would come out so clearly!
Obviously I am lying. Below are the real pictures. The one above did not come out for some reason. Everyone in the crowd was going, "Oh, Kev'll never get pictures of the stingrays, he's going to fail!"
After which they, of course, began chanting "Fail! Fail! Fail! Fail!"...even the strangers joined in. It was the thing to do, I suppose. All the cool kids were doing it.
The one above has some sort of problem with its "wing" (see the chip out of it). It's also a lot darker than the others. Perhaps it's the oldest, or perhaps it's the evilest, or perhaps it's the "darker gray stingray" of the bunch. That was a play on "black sheep," by the way.
I saw one other stingray with the same problem, but it was not as dark. They look like mice who chew the tails off of their siblings when they're babies...I didn't see any little fishes, but the picture below proves that there were little fishes.
The stingray in the above picture was a very large stingray. The smaller ones went around, and around, and around, and abound, in a large cyclonic kind of underwater racetrack.
But these just stayed on the bottom...flat. Moving ever so slowly. Below, the same stingray is pictured with a miniature shark thing.
I suggest looking at the above picture in another window. You know, expanding it. Look at the scowl on its face. I wonder what it's like to permanently have a scowl on your face? I know, I'll ask my WIFE! AHahahahaha...I am kidding, I do not have a wife, but it sure would've been a good joke.
I stopped taking pictures after this. The crowd worked its way around to realizing I was actually getting the pictures, and changed their chant from "Fail! Fail!" to "PUSH HIM IN, PUSH HIM IN," and I didn't want to stick around to see if they'd really push me in. I had my camera on the tripod, and I would set the timer on the camera, then hold it a few feet out over the water...sort of like those guys who hold microphone out on poles for important speeches. I am sure I looked important, they were jealous, and thus wanted to push me in, where I would promptly die. That's what they wanted.
I will be taking a short break from the internets. I'm going to try to not open the computer for 4 days. That is, until 4 AM on Monday, the 17th. If you need to contact me, you can go through the normative channels, such as emailing my mom, who can be reached via her blog, Life is a Conundrum.
I had the chance to photograph some stingrays today. Here are the awesome picz I took manq!
Can you see it?! Yeah! Right there next to the ominous, cloudy cloud!
I didn't think the pictures would come out so clearly!
Obviously I am lying. Below are the real pictures. The one above did not come out for some reason. Everyone in the crowd was going, "Oh, Kev'll never get pictures of the stingrays, he's going to fail!"
After which they, of course, began chanting "Fail! Fail! Fail! Fail!"...even the strangers joined in. It was the thing to do, I suppose. All the cool kids were doing it.
The one above has some sort of problem with its "wing" (see the chip out of it). It's also a lot darker than the others. Perhaps it's the oldest, or perhaps it's the evilest, or perhaps it's the "darker gray stingray" of the bunch. That was a play on "black sheep," by the way.I saw one other stingray with the same problem, but it was not as dark. They look like mice who chew the tails off of their siblings when they're babies...I didn't see any little fishes, but the picture below proves that there were little fishes.
The stingray in the above picture was a very large stingray. The smaller ones went around, and around, and around, and abound, in a large cyclonic kind of underwater racetrack.
But these just stayed on the bottom...flat. Moving ever so slowly. Below, the same stingray is pictured with a miniature shark thing.
I suggest looking at the above picture in another window. You know, expanding it. Look at the scowl on its face. I wonder what it's like to permanently have a scowl on your face? I know, I'll ask my WIFE! AHahahahaha...I am kidding, I do not have a wife, but it sure would've been a good joke.
I stopped taking pictures after this. The crowd worked its way around to realizing I was actually getting the pictures, and changed their chant from "Fail! Fail!" to "PUSH HIM IN, PUSH HIM IN," and I didn't want to stick around to see if they'd really push me in. I had my camera on the tripod, and I would set the timer on the camera, then hold it a few feet out over the water...sort of like those guys who hold microphone out on poles for important speeches. I am sure I looked important, they were jealous, and thus wanted to push me in, where I would promptly die. That's what they wanted.
I will be taking a short break from the internets. I'm going to try to not open the computer for 4 days. That is, until 4 AM on Monday, the 17th. If you need to contact me, you can go through the normative channels, such as emailing my mom, who can be reached via her blog, Life is a Conundrum.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
My Crazed Aunty Disnar
I feel the need to talk about my aunt. I had a dream about her today (it ended in me and my parents having a feint race to see if I could outsmart them on a bicycle; they were in the car).
Well, I've only met her once a few years back (and have never met her husband), so it's hard to say that she was crazed based on my own observation, but word around the family is that she's a little "on the sunny side of life," if you know what I mean.
She currently lives in not-quite-northern Arizona in Skunk Heights. On this "farm," aside from skunks of every imaginable shape and size, she has a big box shed where she has a redundant production facility. Why redundant?
All the conveyor belts work, some machining machines machine imaginary parts, large amounts of electricity are consumed...but nothing is ever produced. It is said that she spent so much on the mystery production facility, she can't afford to buy materials to make whatever she was hoping to produce with it.
According to Family Lore Volume 0004, she was either hoping to produce mechanical skunks to rob banks, or small, infantry-like tanks (think: cyborgs) to take over the world with, or massive amounts of potato peelers for unknown reasons. I've only seen bad-quality pictures of the facility from the outside. It has windows, and you can see a machine machining some imaginary part through one of them.
She was her dad's favorite child (her dad was a Christian satanist; troubling, isn't it?). She would get the others in trouble for something she did, like interrupt their 5-player baseball games (and if they tried to do something about it, it was a beating). This molded her into a ...well, she lives in Skunk Heights (really). That should tell you, right there.
Once, she stole some tools from me and my dad; we had agreed to sell them to her for around $400. When I was younger, money was tight. It still is, but back then, it was "I can't buy this $2 slingshot because it will bankrupt us" tight. It taught me some important things, such as "When I fall into some money, I'll do something nice and buy the family some food instead of the football I've been wanting! I'll continue to play with these pom-poms until I get the money to buy the football, I won't be damaged!"
Though I did not know it at the time, that was a very good, sacrificial thing to do. Of course, I was stupid, and I'd buy ...steak...you know what? That's why I hate expensive steak (such as T-bone). I recall buying it one time, and I would have been able to buy a lot more if I had just gotten the steak one below it. And it all tasted the same. And I could have STILL gotten the football!
...anyway...she took the tools, and when my dad contacted her later that night, she was hawing about it. He taught her how to make gravy...and she betrayed him.
But he knew all about Disnar...he grew up with her, at least, and the Family Lore Volume 8690 warned all about her. She was on the front page right next to "Crazy Uncle Kelly" (who was on the second page). Though, I'm not so sure Crazy Uncle Kelly exists. Aunt Disnar did teach me one life lesson: it doesn't matter how much stuff you have if you buy it on credit. Then you're eventually going to hit rock bottom and be trapped.
My dad recounted to me a story about him and his new friend. They were kids. He said they'd been pals for about a week, and his friend was over at his house. It was one of those "lay-in-a-field-and-watch-clouds-and-ponder-if-you'll-be-friends-forever" friendships, he said.
Disnar got a section of garden hose and threatened to beat his friend until he said he'd go see what the smell of death under the house was. He called her bluff, and she beat him 4 or 5 times about the shoulders and back, at which point he scrambled under the house. Shortly thereafter, he found out what the smell was; it was a dead dog he had to drag out.
As he was dragging it out, she began beating him again. He ran off saying "I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN KEV'S DAD!" My dad developed an eye twitch.
Then, there was my dad's favored chair. He called it Sand, and it was his pal. He would come home every single day from school and sit in it for at least 20 minutes. He said that "it fit him like a glove shaped like a chair." It was the only semblance of hope in his troubled world.
One day, as he was rounding the corner to go sit in Sand, his saw his sister, Disnar. She was holding a match. She proceeded to throw the match on Sand, who in turn burst into flames. She had soaked Sand in gasoline so he'd burn faster, and my dad had to put it out with the garden hose. He said that he was never quite able to get the image out of his head, and shortly after, Sand was thrown away.
Apparently, my aunt Desnee really has some bad things to say about Disnar. I'll have to strike up a conversation with her about it. Also, Disnar used to act like a dog when in stores. She would get on all fours and bark and everything, even attempt to sniff people's crotches. True story. The one thing she lacked, apparently, was a leash. My parents both had dismal childhoods.
I wonder how my children's childhoods will be.
Well, I've only met her once a few years back (and have never met her husband), so it's hard to say that she was crazed based on my own observation, but word around the family is that she's a little "on the sunny side of life," if you know what I mean.
She currently lives in not-quite-northern Arizona in Skunk Heights. On this "farm," aside from skunks of every imaginable shape and size, she has a big box shed where she has a redundant production facility. Why redundant?
All the conveyor belts work, some machining machines machine imaginary parts, large amounts of electricity are consumed...but nothing is ever produced. It is said that she spent so much on the mystery production facility, she can't afford to buy materials to make whatever she was hoping to produce with it.
According to Family Lore Volume 0004, she was either hoping to produce mechanical skunks to rob banks, or small, infantry-like tanks (think: cyborgs) to take over the world with, or massive amounts of potato peelers for unknown reasons. I've only seen bad-quality pictures of the facility from the outside. It has windows, and you can see a machine machining some imaginary part through one of them.
She was her dad's favorite child (her dad was a Christian satanist; troubling, isn't it?). She would get the others in trouble for something she did, like interrupt their 5-player baseball games (and if they tried to do something about it, it was a beating). This molded her into a ...well, she lives in Skunk Heights (really). That should tell you, right there.
Once, she stole some tools from me and my dad; we had agreed to sell them to her for around $400. When I was younger, money was tight. It still is, but back then, it was "I can't buy this $2 slingshot because it will bankrupt us" tight. It taught me some important things, such as "When I fall into some money, I'll do something nice and buy the family some food instead of the football I've been wanting! I'll continue to play with these pom-poms until I get the money to buy the football, I won't be damaged!"
Though I did not know it at the time, that was a very good, sacrificial thing to do. Of course, I was stupid, and I'd buy ...steak...you know what? That's why I hate expensive steak (such as T-bone). I recall buying it one time, and I would have been able to buy a lot more if I had just gotten the steak one below it. And it all tasted the same. And I could have STILL gotten the football!
...anyway...she took the tools, and when my dad contacted her later that night, she was hawing about it. He taught her how to make gravy...and she betrayed him.
But he knew all about Disnar...he grew up with her, at least, and the Family Lore Volume 8690 warned all about her. She was on the front page right next to "Crazy Uncle Kelly" (who was on the second page). Though, I'm not so sure Crazy Uncle Kelly exists. Aunt Disnar did teach me one life lesson: it doesn't matter how much stuff you have if you buy it on credit. Then you're eventually going to hit rock bottom and be trapped.
My dad recounted to me a story about him and his new friend. They were kids. He said they'd been pals for about a week, and his friend was over at his house. It was one of those "lay-in-a-field-and-watch-clouds-and-ponder-if-you'll-be-friends-forever" friendships, he said.
Disnar got a section of garden hose and threatened to beat his friend until he said he'd go see what the smell of death under the house was. He called her bluff, and she beat him 4 or 5 times about the shoulders and back, at which point he scrambled under the house. Shortly thereafter, he found out what the smell was; it was a dead dog he had to drag out.
As he was dragging it out, she began beating him again. He ran off saying "I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN KEV'S DAD!" My dad developed an eye twitch.
Then, there was my dad's favored chair. He called it Sand, and it was his pal. He would come home every single day from school and sit in it for at least 20 minutes. He said that "it fit him like a glove shaped like a chair." It was the only semblance of hope in his troubled world.
One day, as he was rounding the corner to go sit in Sand, his saw his sister, Disnar. She was holding a match. She proceeded to throw the match on Sand, who in turn burst into flames. She had soaked Sand in gasoline so he'd burn faster, and my dad had to put it out with the garden hose. He said that he was never quite able to get the image out of his head, and shortly after, Sand was thrown away.
Apparently, my aunt Desnee really has some bad things to say about Disnar. I'll have to strike up a conversation with her about it. Also, Disnar used to act like a dog when in stores. She would get on all fours and bark and everything, even attempt to sniff people's crotches. True story. The one thing she lacked, apparently, was a leash. My parents both had dismal childhoods.
I wonder how my children's childhoods will be.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
It's the hap, happiest season of all...
I feel the need to "look back." I've seen bloggers do this before. I am unsure of what causes it, but they feel a need to go back and think on events of the past; I am sure it's not just bloggers, but bloggers reveal this stuff like others don't. It almost seems therapeutic; as if dealing from a clean slate, reassessing memories, re-rating experiences, evaluating how things have changed, and reforming world interaction based upon the wider/panoramic view of what has been, a change from the daily world interaction based on the comparatively narrow current window and the outdated "panoramic view."
Let's begin with my thoughts on winter, shall we?
For me, the winter season is very special. For one, it's the best season of all. It's the Samus Aran of seasons. Now, I'll be the first to tell you that some of my best seasons are fall, spring and summer, but we all know that's just an excuse because I am really seasonist.
It's just now starting to get cold enough outside for our indoor temperature to be effected; we have "HeatWave Max No Cool Burn Box Brick Oven Taste of Hell" classified insulation (because we live in Arizona and totally need good insulation :| ), and I love it. Uhh, that it's getting so cold, that is. I do not love the insulation. It is hard to believe that some actually do not like winter [link to a blog for Hudson Community Chapel, titled "winter splinter", and an article from The Southern Illinoisan], but I totally, honestly understand, as long as they totally, honestly understand that I despise summer.
In that light, I don't know if I could ever live in an area where the winter season caused me to hate it. In Arizona, it's still very cold (under 10 degrees in the mornings; I know this is child's play to colder states, but so is their 90 degree summer!), but it isn't cold enough to despise the winter. Unless, of course, you're my dad. Oh, how my dad hates winter. He doesn't pick flowers for, and meet the parents of, summer, either, but he doesn't hate it as much as winter.
In fact, here are my dad's feelings about winter, portrayed by a photo I took of Paper Mario.
The knowledge that anything you do outside will be ten times easier than it is in the summer (and how!)...
The water coming out of the tap at a nice temperature...
The bone-chilling effects of rain...the freezing despair...then being able to heat back up...
Going to sleep, warm under the covers...not being able to move for fear of losing the pockets of heat that have accumulated in the blanket...
Wearing clothes that should be worn in summer and freaking people out (they all wear sweaters like GIRLS!)...
Actually being able to drink hot beverages, like actual humans...but choosing to drink cold beverages because why not!...how chilly ice cream seems...
Christmas lights up everywhere...Christmas songs (I am partial to Todd Agnew and Friend's Do You See What I See album)...
My parents' dog, Little Jihad, waking me up to go outside...
The sheer base awenem of winter. More recently, it means I can play Twilight Princess again! Woo! Princess party over he-......I mean...ouhm...that is...I meant to say...
...manly...party... over here. Yes. With uh, razors, and ...power tools. And sports on the TV. Yes, uh, manly party over here...er...with...fast cars and...beer nuts...and......uhh...lawn mowers. Yeah, nothing but manliness over at this party, no princesses allowed. No marshmallows. Lots of sandpaper, and footballs everywhere.
In ending, randomly, I suggest this post from my blog- "That Dead My Great Grandmother Again." I did a search of my blog, and it came up, and I was laughing over it. Boy, she had a scorpion farm or something. And uh, Pastor was feeling a little..."hellfire" around the collar that day.
Let's begin with my thoughts on winter, shall we?
For me, the winter season is very special. For one, it's the best season of all. It's the Samus Aran of seasons. Now, I'll be the first to tell you that some of my best seasons are fall, spring and summer, but we all know that's just an excuse because I am really seasonist.
It's just now starting to get cold enough outside for our indoor temperature to be effected; we have "HeatWave Max No Cool Burn Box Brick Oven Taste of Hell" classified insulation (because we live in Arizona and totally need good insulation :| ), and I love it. Uhh, that it's getting so cold, that is. I do not love the insulation. It is hard to believe that some actually do not like winter [link to a blog for Hudson Community Chapel, titled "winter splinter", and an article from The Southern Illinoisan], but I totally, honestly understand, as long as they totally, honestly understand that I despise summer.
In that light, I don't know if I could ever live in an area where the winter season caused me to hate it. In Arizona, it's still very cold (under 10 degrees in the mornings; I know this is child's play to colder states, but so is their 90 degree summer!), but it isn't cold enough to despise the winter. Unless, of course, you're my dad. Oh, how my dad hates winter. He doesn't pick flowers for, and meet the parents of, summer, either, but he doesn't hate it as much as winter.
In fact, here are my dad's feelings about winter, portrayed by a photo I took of Paper Mario.
Paper Mario had some truly amazing character dialogue. I am unsure of their method, but it is by far the best I've seen. I haven't seen too much, though.
Yes, pa, we know you hate winter. But I love it. Perhaps people are born to love different seasons. A personality issue. Regardless, I like winter a whole, whole lot. The tinge of coldness in the air that somehow cannot be recreated in such subtle tones by merely turning the thermostat down...The knowledge that anything you do outside will be ten times easier than it is in the summer (and how!)...
The water coming out of the tap at a nice temperature...
The bone-chilling effects of rain...the freezing despair...then being able to heat back up...
Going to sleep, warm under the covers...not being able to move for fear of losing the pockets of heat that have accumulated in the blanket...
Wearing clothes that should be worn in summer and freaking people out (they all wear sweaters like GIRLS!)...
Actually being able to drink hot beverages, like actual humans...but choosing to drink cold beverages because why not!...how chilly ice cream seems...
Christmas lights up everywhere...Christmas songs (I am partial to Todd Agnew and Friend's Do You See What I See album)...
My parents' dog, Little Jihad, waking me up to go outside...
The sheer base awenem of winter. More recently, it means I can play Twilight Princess again! Woo! Princess party over he-......I mean...ouhm...that is...I meant to say...
...manly...party... over here. Yes. With uh, razors, and ...power tools. And sports on the TV. Yes, uh, manly party over here...er...with...fast cars and...beer nuts...and......uhh...lawn mowers. Yeah, nothing but manliness over at this party, no princesses allowed. No marshmallows. Lots of sandpaper, and footballs everywhere.
In ending, randomly, I suggest this post from my blog- "That Dead My Great Grandmother Again." I did a search of my blog, and it came up, and I was laughing over it. Boy, she had a scorpion farm or something. And uh, Pastor was feeling a little..."hellfire" around the collar that day.
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