As you know, humble fool, I'm a gamer. A Nintendo gamer. I must be honest, I've only played a PlayStation once (it was purchased and returned in a temerarious haze, leaving me scarred for life, but that's a story for another time) and I've never even seen an Xbox in person. Yet I've always maintained that I would get an Xbox over a PlayStation.
The other day, my dad was berating a woman with the last name of "Valentine." I said, "Now, listen, Pa, there ain't nothing bad you can say about someone with the last name of Valentine." He said, "Why not?! She's the ANTICHRIST!" His words hung in the air.
"Yes, but, Jill Valentine has that name, and, well, I doubt that the Antichrist would share Ms. Valentine's name..."
"Who?"
"Jill Valentine!"
"Who the hell is she?!"
"I don't know, let me put it this way. If I was less of a craven fool, she'd turn me into a drooling fanboy without a backbone, and I'd melt into a puddle and stick in the carpet."
"Oh whatever!" he said. "She's still the Antichrist!"
The same conversation has occurred thrice since then- each time the commercial is on.
Jill Valentine is a character in the Resident Evil series of movies and games. That's almost all I know. The other bit of what I know is enough to know that she's awesome on a lot of levels, and worthy of deference and, importantly, defense.
However, now that the Age of Idols has fallen, there's not much purpose in that defense. With the passing of the Age of Idols comes the passing of gamer "buoys." I am adrift in the middle of a sea of fireroads, to quote a dove.
I'm sorry, Jill. I'm sorry that I've never had the spine to come to the knowledge of what wonder you may possess. I'm sorry that I possibly never will. I'm sorry that I've let you and, indeed, the entire franchise slip through the crack in my gamer skull. I've done this wretched thing with full awareness and knowledge. I'm sorry that what indentation on the hard disk of my brain you may have made has been baseless or, if possible, worse, skewed by the lowest wretches of humanity, Hollywood.
In that vein, I am unrepenting that I destroyed that DVD.
Now, humble fool, I am sorry toward you that I will not be able to get to the second part of the title of this post. That will be revealed in due time through a cunning process. It should be entertaining.
With the passing of the Age of Idols, every action, lacking a purpose- unguided by buoys, if you will- has to be based upon some strange system I've yet to fully grasp. The main problematic element being that there is no longer a moral compass.
There's no line I cannot cross.
If I may:
Judges 17:6 KJV In those days there was no king in Israel, but every man did that which was right in his own eyes.
Showing posts with label Updategrade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Updategrade. Show all posts
Friday, November 14, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
The Fall of the Age of Idols: Repercussions
So there I was. Chillin'. You know me.
And there was Red dataDyne. "Oh look at me I have red hair," she said. I could care less about Barack Obama, but she...well, will probably be reading this. But you all know. Or at least you should. So I was talking to her and some people, and then her brother showed up. And then my mom showed up. "OH WOW try this!" she demanded. "No! No I can't, aagh!" I retorted.
Then I announced that I don't eat dataDyne food. Red looked at me. "What?!" she blurted in horror. I am paraphrasing.
"I says," I said, "I don't eat dataDyne food. I only eat Hitman food."
A few minutes later, here comes Lisa dataDyne. Now, if this was two weeks ago, or three weeks ago, or maybe even a month ago, I would have just laughed in her face. But this was past the Time of All Blonds Losing Credence, and I was once more weak to her demands as if she were not blond.
"Her, try this!" she demanded, offering a piece of candy-like candy coated in chocolate. It seemed like everyone was watching the standoff; I don't blame them. Maybe even a month ago, or three weeks ago, or if this was two weeks ago, it would have been hilarious.
But now, I had no choice. I haltingly accepted the piece of candy and, after mumbling "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!", took a bite. The rest was a swirling whirlwind of confusion.
What does this mean?
How will this go?
Wasn't I hoping to have some time to consider the implications of this?
What's the next step?
How do I make my decisions?
Do I care?
Do I have to care?
Who has my loyalty?
Who do I hate?
Who do I love?
Why do I exist?
What are the repercussions?
I still haven't quite figured all of that out. It was a short few weeks ago that I realized that the Age of Idols was coming to a close. I didn't know what it meant; I barely wanted to accept it. And I didn't know what it meant when it happened yesterday at the hands of that sanctified cookie-candy-chocolate-thing.
And I still don't know what it means.
But it had to happen, so, good looking out, Mrs. dataDyne. Just, um...if you go after the Age of Anxiety and the Age of Arrogance next, please diminish them equally, because they kind of balance each other, y'know? One without the other and bad things happen to Kev's personality.
And there was Red dataDyne. "Oh look at me I have red hair," she said. I could care less about Barack Obama, but she...well, will probably be reading this. But you all know. Or at least you should. So I was talking to her and some people, and then her brother showed up. And then my mom showed up. "OH WOW try this!" she demanded. "No! No I can't, aagh!" I retorted.
Then I announced that I don't eat dataDyne food. Red looked at me. "What?!" she blurted in horror. I am paraphrasing.
"I says," I said, "I don't eat dataDyne food. I only eat Hitman food."
A few minutes later, here comes Lisa dataDyne. Now, if this was two weeks ago, or three weeks ago, or maybe even a month ago, I would have just laughed in her face. But this was past the Time of All Blonds Losing Credence, and I was once more weak to her demands as if she were not blond.
"Her, try this!" she demanded, offering a piece of candy-like candy coated in chocolate. It seemed like everyone was watching the standoff; I don't blame them. Maybe even a month ago, or three weeks ago, or if this was two weeks ago, it would have been hilarious.
But now, I had no choice. I haltingly accepted the piece of candy and, after mumbling "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!", took a bite. The rest was a swirling whirlwind of confusion.
What does this mean?
How will this go?
Wasn't I hoping to have some time to consider the implications of this?
What's the next step?
How do I make my decisions?
Do I care?
Do I have to care?
Who has my loyalty?
Who do I hate?
Who do I love?
Why do I exist?
What are the repercussions?
I still haven't quite figured all of that out. It was a short few weeks ago that I realized that the Age of Idols was coming to a close. I didn't know what it meant; I barely wanted to accept it. And I didn't know what it meant when it happened yesterday at the hands of that sanctified cookie-candy-chocolate-thing.
And I still don't know what it means.
But it had to happen, so, good looking out, Mrs. dataDyne. Just, um...if you go after the Age of Anxiety and the Age of Arrogance next, please diminish them equally, because they kind of balance each other, y'know? One without the other and bad things happen to Kev's personality.
Monday, October 06, 2008
8:30 PM. It is (almost) finished.
I expect I will last the night, thus successfully staying awake for the entire 24 hours of October 6th, my birthday. No coffee.
The party went fine; I only invited three people. No, not me, myself, and I. I invited my mom, dad, and brother. The cakes were...umm...interesting. Definitely not something I'd try to sell to depressing clowns, but that might just be me. You know the kind that have really droopy clown makeup? Yeah, those. I had a ton of fun staying up the entire day...what a rush.
First, there was the cleaning of the kitchen. Then there was the checking of the email. And then the milking of the goats...and here I am, almost through the day! Go Kev! Genesis 11:6!
Wait...wait...that's bad. I take it back.
The party went fine; I only invited three people. No, not me, myself, and I. I invited my mom, dad, and brother. The cakes were...umm...interesting. Definitely not something I'd try to sell to depressing clowns, but that might just be me. You know the kind that have really droopy clown makeup? Yeah, those. I had a ton of fun staying up the entire day...what a rush.
First, there was the cleaning of the kitchen. Then there was the checking of the email. And then the milking of the goats...and here I am, almost through the day! Go Kev! Genesis 11:6!
Wait...wait...that's bad. I take it back.
2:34 PM. Metroid prepped. Cake being made. Three hours to go.
Only roughly three hours to go until party time, depending on how fast those morons wonderful parents of mine get the preparations completed. I wish I could be doing that right now myself, but well, I'm locked in my room. I've got a window, though. I'm just so grateful for that. Really. No not really, I'm being sarcastic, those sparkling waters I am duty bound to drink are not helping the whole can't-go-to-the-room-with-the-bath-in-it situation. I'm glad I have a litter box in my room. And I'm even gladder that I'm joking.
Anyway, after much toiling, I've made it as far as I need to go Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. Well, almost as far. I'm ending soon so that I will have a few hours left for the rest of the day. I'm still pretty awake. Don't forget me when you set to sailing...(since someone might be inclined to think that that's a song, it isn't. It's there for the sole purpose of making someone, somewhere, think that.)
Since I can't go into the rest of the house, can't trust myself to be creative in any way, and since my information absorption ability is hindered by the whole two-and-a-half-hours-of-sleep thing, my only options for entertainment are a) video games b) mindless books and c) hymning.
Actually, mindless books are not an option. I don't have any of those. Video games are a given; I'm probably going to put a little time in on Chex Quest. What? You don't remember Chex Quest? Wow...well, it's a Doom clone. But it's got a guy in it called Chex Man or whatever. He looks like a human wearing a huge square Chex Cereal...piece, as armor. Um, actually, I think that's what he is. And that also he looks like it. Because for the reason that he is it. OK, I'm starting the next line before this gets out of hand. I'll put two spaces betwixt these to contain the leaven.
Speaking of leaven, like I said in a prior post...my dad's slaving away over a hot oven baking a cake. I said, "Wait, Dad, just follow the directions. You'll ruin it otherwise."
"DIRECTIONS, FILLEHSPECTALATIONS! I'll figure this out! I'm a man!"
Now we know where I get it. And where my brother gets it.
...and he just brought in some of the filling for me to try. That's real privy, there. So I guess we'll 'see' how this 'pans' out. Get it? Baking humor, you wouldn't understand. Where's my cellphone?
Anyway, after much toiling, I've made it as far as I need to go Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. Well, almost as far. I'm ending soon so that I will have a few hours left for the rest of the day. I'm still pretty awake. Don't forget me when you set to sailing...(since someone might be inclined to think that that's a song, it isn't. It's there for the sole purpose of making someone, somewhere, think that.)
Since I can't go into the rest of the house, can't trust myself to be creative in any way, and since my information absorption ability is hindered by the whole two-and-a-half-hours-of-sleep thing, my only options for entertainment are a) video games b) mindless books and c) hymning.
Actually, mindless books are not an option. I don't have any of those. Video games are a given; I'm probably going to put a little time in on Chex Quest. What? You don't remember Chex Quest? Wow...well, it's a Doom clone. But it's got a guy in it called Chex Man or whatever. He looks like a human wearing a huge square Chex Cereal...piece, as armor. Um, actually, I think that's what he is. And that also he looks like it. Because for the reason that he is it. OK, I'm starting the next line before this gets out of hand. I'll put two spaces betwixt these to contain the leaven.
Speaking of leaven, like I said in a prior post...my dad's slaving away over a hot oven baking a cake. I said, "Wait, Dad, just follow the directions. You'll ruin it otherwise."
"DIRECTIONS, FILLEHSPECTALATIONS! I'll figure this out! I'm a man!"
Now we know where I get it. And where my brother gets it.
...and he just brought in some of the filling for me to try. That's real privy, there. So I guess we'll 'see' how this 'pans' out. Get it? Baking humor, you wouldn't understand. Where's my cellphone?
1:06 PM. Eleven Hours to Go.
Alright, I made it this far, but I'm now officially banned from the kitchen (especially the kitchen) and living area. If I need to go to the bathroom, I "have a perfectly good window." Thanks, Dad. He's baking a cake. It's a surprise. He told me all about it.
Usually, when making a cake, it is to be done privily; or at least you shouldn't ask the person details about the cake. At least when it's THEIR BIRTHDAY CAKE. No, no, I don't need to be surprised. Tell me all about it in detail. Why don't you let me decorate it, too. No, you fool, I was being sarcastic.
I'm a little tired but pretty wired. I guess.
No coffee yet, no sugar yet, no um, drugs yet. Just pure, unconditional relentlessness. (Try to figure that one out via remoter context. Hint: It doesn't make sense.)
And for the record I do not do drugs and never have. Thus the "um." You...pervert.
Usually, when making a cake, it is to be done privily; or at least you shouldn't ask the person details about the cake. At least when it's THEIR BIRTHDAY CAKE. No, no, I don't need to be surprised. Tell me all about it in detail. Why don't you let me decorate it, too. No, you fool, I was being sarcastic.
I'm a little tired but pretty wired. I guess.
No coffee yet, no sugar yet, no um, drugs yet. Just pure, unconditional relentlessness. (Try to figure that one out via remoter context. Hint: It doesn't make sense.)
And for the record I do not do drugs and never have. Thus the "um." You...pervert.
12:40 PM. CBN calls for 30 days of prayer in honor of Kev's Birthday.
Well, we all saw this coming.
Quoth the email:
Also, the Dow dropped a record 800 points to below 10,000 for the first time in four years. I love my birthday...interesting things always happen.
Typically not good for others, though.
Quoth the email:
I am asking all of you who love the Lord to pray with CBN in a special 30 Day Call To Prayer, October 6th through November 4th.
Also, the Dow dropped a record 800 points to below 10,000 for the first time in four years. I love my birthday...interesting things always happen.
Typically not good for others, though.
9:15 AM. The heat is on.
Yep, 9 AM. I went to sleep last night at (about) 9:15 PM and got up at 11:43 PM, so I got two and a half hours of sleep (didn't I already say that in a prior post?), and I'm still awake. Fifteen hours to go. No coffee, no caffeinated beverages, no sugar. Just raw, unconditional manliness.
Which can sometimes cause me to say "unconditional" instead of "unrelenting." Which also can cause actual reversal of "unrelenting" and "unconditional" (aside from causing me to use confusing grammar). Meaning that unconditional love would turn to unrelenting love. Kind of the same thing, just more violent.
And less relenting.
Anyways, birthday #19 is going great so far. Did I mention that I put more than forty cans of sparkling water into the refrigerator last night? Yeah, so I guess I need to drink those before the day is up. It's my honor or something. I'm doing very badly so far. There's practically a wall of sparkling water inside the fridge, and it doesn't seem to be taking the hint. It's unconditional.
Sorry. And my mom officially told me that I wasn't born at night, but at 2:57 PM or something like that. She started in on the technicalities, about how I would need to stay up from 2:57 PM to 2:57 PM. I almost slapped her, but I didn't.
I said, "Listen, stupid. Don't you think I know that? October 6th is my birthday day, and I will be up for my entire birthday day, which is October 6th." And again, I almost slapped her. She was like, "OK, whatever, I've got to go to work. OH, BY THE WAY, GO MILK!"
That time I almost strangled her. Milking went fine; I don't know how many we have currently producing the "white gold," as my parents are fond of calling it. My heart says we have about forty milkers, my mind says we have six or seven, and Jeremiah 17:9 factors in there somewhere. Dad did the majority of the milking, as far as retrieving the goats go. My parents retrieve them, I put them away. I've got the goats relented to obey my will because they know it's futile to do otherwise. I am an (sic) dictator with an iron fist. And I have opposable thumbs. They only have pitiful, cloven hooves.
And sometime before the milking I cleaned the kitchen floor with a rag; which didn't work too well. But it will do; our mop head is dead. And I also got some hours in on Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. That's going great. But my hair? Bad hair day. Or, at least I consider it a bad hair day.
Oh, and as for the title of this post, it always heats up in my room between 9 and 10:30 AM. So it's going to start heating up in my room.
...don't get it? Fine, let me put it in simpler terms: That is why the heat is on. I do declare, you fools think I need to go get some sleep! HAH, I'M NOT CRAZY, THE WOOOOORLD IS CRAZY! AHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAaaaaahackgh
Which can sometimes cause me to say "unconditional" instead of "unrelenting." Which also can cause actual reversal of "unrelenting" and "unconditional" (aside from causing me to use confusing grammar). Meaning that unconditional love would turn to unrelenting love. Kind of the same thing, just more violent.
And less relenting.
Anyways, birthday #19 is going great so far. Did I mention that I put more than forty cans of sparkling water into the refrigerator last night? Yeah, so I guess I need to drink those before the day is up. It's my honor or something. I'm doing very badly so far. There's practically a wall of sparkling water inside the fridge, and it doesn't seem to be taking the hint. It's unconditional.
Sorry. And my mom officially told me that I wasn't born at night, but at 2:57 PM or something like that. She started in on the technicalities, about how I would need to stay up from 2:57 PM to 2:57 PM. I almost slapped her, but I didn't.
I said, "Listen, stupid. Don't you think I know that? October 6th is my birthday day, and I will be up for my entire birthday day, which is October 6th." And again, I almost slapped her. She was like, "OK, whatever, I've got to go to work. OH, BY THE WAY, GO MILK!"
That time I almost strangled her. Milking went fine; I don't know how many we have currently producing the "white gold," as my parents are fond of calling it. My heart says we have about forty milkers, my mind says we have six or seven, and Jeremiah 17:9 factors in there somewhere. Dad did the majority of the milking, as far as retrieving the goats go. My parents retrieve them, I put them away. I've got the goats relented to obey my will because they know it's futile to do otherwise. I am an (sic) dictator with an iron fist. And I have opposable thumbs. They only have pitiful, cloven hooves.
And sometime before the milking I cleaned the kitchen floor with a rag; which didn't work too well. But it will do; our mop head is dead. And I also got some hours in on Metroid Prime 2: Echoes. That's going great. But my hair? Bad hair day. Or, at least I consider it a bad hair day.
Oh, and as for the title of this post, it always heats up in my room between 9 and 10:30 AM. So it's going to start heating up in my room.
...don't get it? Fine, let me put it in simpler terms: That is why the heat is on. I do declare, you fools think I need to go get some sleep! HAH, I'M NOT CRAZY, THE WOOOOORLD IS CRAZY! AHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAaaaaahackgh
Yawn. 2:30 AM.
Funny that I post this around 2:30 AM. Why is it funny, you ask?
Well, I got two and a half hours of sleep "last night." Which was three hours ago.
So it's...not exactly funny in the sense of hilarity. Remember this post? I didn't get to sleep until later. Yeah, so I'll see if I can stay up for the 24 hours on two and a half hours of sleep and no coffee.
Well, I got two and a half hours of sleep "last night." Which was three hours ago.
So it's...not exactly funny in the sense of hilarity. Remember this post? I didn't get to sleep until later. Yeah, so I'll see if I can stay up for the 24 hours on two and a half hours of sleep and no coffee.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Good Night
Alright, time to go to sleep. I'm going to stay up for the entire 24 hours of my birthday. Why? Uh, because, there's so much to do on my birthday, duh. I've got to...um...do stuff. Yeah. A lot of stuff.
And...move things. And other manly stuff like that.
So um, I'm going to go.
Alright?
Alright. You hang up first.
And...move things. And other manly stuff like that.
So um, I'm going to go.
Alright?
Alright. You hang up first.
Friday, September 05, 2008
We got what now?! Again?!
Tap tap tap tap tap.
You'd think that by now they'd use stud finders, but apparently, no. Maybe that's because stud finders are the Weekend Warrior version of Eskimo Ice Cakes. They're useless.
Bzzht. Bzzht. That must be a nice drill. Yep, it's happening again: We got what now?!
I've been just fine with our internet connection, but Mom- like last time- said "Oh, it's so slow, I could just die!" Here are our old download/upload speeds:
Yeah, that's good enough for me. But my mom works at an establishment which has a very fast cable connection, so she's used to much higher speeds. Here's the new results:
Hm. It seems to be 2.5 Mbps with a high of 3.5 Mbps. I'm more impressed by the upload speeds. If there's one thing I hate, it's uploading things. Actually, that's completely untrue.
But...still.
You'd think that by now they'd use stud finders, but apparently, no. Maybe that's because stud finders are the Weekend Warrior version of Eskimo Ice Cakes. They're useless.
Bzzht. Bzzht. That must be a nice drill. Yep, it's happening again: We got what now?!
I've been just fine with our internet connection, but Mom- like last time- said "Oh, it's so slow, I could just die!" Here are our old download/upload speeds:
Yeah, that's good enough for me. But my mom works at an establishment which has a very fast cable connection, so she's used to much higher speeds. Here's the new results:
Hm. It seems to be 2.5 Mbps with a high of 3.5 Mbps. I'm more impressed by the upload speeds. If there's one thing I hate, it's uploading things. Actually, that's completely untrue.
But...still.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Breaking Again
Well, consarn it. I've got too much to do. There's a special project I'm working on (some of you may be privy to that), and I have another project that I'm working on (some of you may also be privy to that), and I've got another project I'm working on (not many of you are privy to that), and I just got the call. I bet I forget what the three projects are unless I write them down. Let's see, BGHAULCAM, PFCCAM, GCAM4IMp, not necessarily in that order. That should help me remember.
"I need a tow truck, boy! I was driving down the road at 50 MPH, and all of a sudden the passenger side rear wheel flew off!"
It was making a creaking sound the last few days. Thusforthtoheretothere, I will not have time to make blog posts, despite the fact that I have at least 10 I want to write (including a 4 or 6-post 'serial'). I may post some update posts on the progress of repairing the Red Beater, though. It'll all be manly discussions on axles and suspension and leaf springs.
See you then, humble fools. See you then. Hopefully no longer than a week. I will persevere, and be strong.
"I need a tow truck, boy! I was driving down the road at 50 MPH, and all of a sudden the passenger side rear wheel flew off!"
It was making a creaking sound the last few days. Thusforthtoheretothere, I will not have time to make blog posts, despite the fact that I have at least 10 I want to write (including a 4 or 6-post 'serial'). I may post some update posts on the progress of repairing the Red Beater, though. It'll all be manly discussions on axles and suspension and leaf springs.
See you then, humble fools. See you then. Hopefully no longer than a week. I will persevere, and be strong.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Saintovision Has Worn Off
Yep, it's gone.
Anytime I'm around a large mass of unknown by face fellowsaints, I switch to some kind of instinct-based sight mode which I can only describe as Saintovision. If you've ever seen Doom the movie, the FPS scene in particular, it's not really like that.
I would describe it as intense observing. If I see someone who looks about right, based upon their movement, how they carry themselves, if they're staring at me, their manner, who they're talking to, how they're talking, etc., I add them to my target list. Then I move to intercept them.
It goes like this:
Step 1: See a saint.
Step 2: Evaluate the saint's movement, manner, and interaction with the saints around them. It helps if you know the saints they're talking to.
Step 3: Add to Target List, or add to Possible Target list and maintain observation.
Step 4: Move to intercept. (It helps if you know the saints standing nearby them.)
It's not a perfect method, but it works well considering how many are there...at least a hundred and fifty. It was supposedly a 'huge' turnout- they were everywhere! But I knew a lot of them already. It was great to see them again. At the end...I think I only missed one target, but that was only to say hi again. So I think I met everyone new that I set my sights on.
My point is, if you've heard me murmur about how "My target has mobilized," or "Target is on the move," "Scopes locked," or "Moving in for the kill," that's why. It meant that someone on my target list was in a position so as to be susceptible to interception. I often leave in a hurry.
Anyways, I was stuck in this for a few days after. It was creepy. Everybody I saw got a half-second, intensive head-to-toe eye evaluation to see if they were pal material. Imagine having your poor eyes lock onto and fiercely process every single person you see against your will...and worse, I don't know if one person from our little town passed.
I love the saints. They usually pass with flying colors.
Anytime I'm around a large mass of unknown by face fellowsaints, I switch to some kind of instinct-based sight mode which I can only describe as Saintovision. If you've ever seen Doom the movie, the FPS scene in particular, it's not really like that.
I would describe it as intense observing. If I see someone who looks about right, based upon their movement, how they carry themselves, if they're staring at me, their manner, who they're talking to, how they're talking, etc., I add them to my target list. Then I move to intercept them.
It goes like this:
Step 1: See a saint.
Step 2: Evaluate the saint's movement, manner, and interaction with the saints around them. It helps if you know the saints they're talking to.
Step 3: Add to Target List, or add to Possible Target list and maintain observation.
Step 4: Move to intercept. (It helps if you know the saints standing nearby them.)
It's not a perfect method, but it works well considering how many are there...at least a hundred and fifty. It was supposedly a 'huge' turnout- they were everywhere! But I knew a lot of them already. It was great to see them again. At the end...I think I only missed one target, but that was only to say hi again. So I think I met everyone new that I set my sights on.
My point is, if you've heard me murmur about how "My target has mobilized," or "Target is on the move," "Scopes locked," or "Moving in for the kill," that's why. It meant that someone on my target list was in a position so as to be susceptible to interception. I often leave in a hurry.
Anyways, I was stuck in this for a few days after. It was creepy. Everybody I saw got a half-second, intensive head-to-toe eye evaluation to see if they were pal material. Imagine having your poor eyes lock onto and fiercely process every single person you see against your will...and worse, I don't know if one person from our little town passed.
I love the saints. They usually pass with flying colors.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Broken O Key
My laptop has experienced its first, non-software-derived breakdown. Something was under the O key, so I took the key off to remove the obstruction. I've taken keys off before. They snap right back on in a most unfathomable fashion...but not this time.
I'm not sure what happened. Regardless, now my only option is to press the rubber nipple and I'm just sure it wasn't designed for that and will soon fall off and I'll cry like a girl. It's usually a fingernail or toenail that causes the problems.
Don't ask me how clipped nails end up in my laptop keyboard. I couldn't tell you. It's not like I have a Barbie Nail Salon® that I have in my room right above my laptop area. It's not like that at all! Whatever gave you such an INSANE idea as that?!?!
I HAVE TO GO!
I'm not sure what happened. Regardless, now my only option is to press the rubber nipple and I'm just sure it wasn't designed for that and will soon fall off and I'll cry like a girl. It's usually a fingernail or toenail that causes the problems.
Don't ask me how clipped nails end up in my laptop keyboard. I couldn't tell you. It's not like I have a Barbie Nail Salon® that I have in my room right above my laptop area. It's not like that at all! Whatever gave you such an INSANE idea as that?!?!
I HAVE TO GO!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Popoe, Come Home
You know who Popoe is?
Here he is after getting caught in a tree last February. It was a Sunday.
And here are some of his better moments, all heavily laden with pictures:
Lionel and Popoe get Catnip Stoned: The Werewolf
Attack of the Yarn Antenna
The Cat Chair's Catnip Residue
He disappeared. The last time he was seen was May 30th/31st. As you may know, Lightning's baby, Dummy, was born on May 30th. I would say some sappy thing about how as one life enters one leaves, but Dummy died almost 20 days later on June 16 or 17 and, come on. I don't want to say sappy, idiotic things like that.
The last notable event was this...look closely. Open the picture, peer at it.
Yep, it's what it looks like. Here's afterwards:
It's his tail, if you can't tell. So, I can't say that he left because he got headbutted and got his tail bit two or three times by a goat in labor, because I think he actually stayed around for another day. (He had no idea what a headbutting was, so he did not evade.) I think he left because it was June, and June's a nice time to get hit by a car, I figure he figured.
At first we were sad, then we realized...we hate that rotten ne'er-do-well! He was getting nearly unbearable. He's just too stupid to learn how to behave. We don't know what happened, but the theories are as follows:
Matt killed him and hid him.
He died under the house.
Matt killed him and Mom hid him, thus why she's so sure that he's gone for good.
He is actually gone and apprehended or hit by a car/truck.
Mom killed him and hid him.
Notice me and my dad did no killing? Yeah, shame on you, Mom and Matt. Killers.
Hey, by the way...expect a post about slaughtering goats, soon. Me and my dad are going to drown then behead and cut up a three month old baby! This is gonna be great.
Here he is after getting caught in a tree last February. It was a Sunday.
And here are some of his better moments, all heavily laden with pictures:
Lionel and Popoe get Catnip Stoned: The Werewolf
Attack of the Yarn Antenna
The Cat Chair's Catnip Residue
He disappeared. The last time he was seen was May 30th/31st. As you may know, Lightning's baby, Dummy, was born on May 30th. I would say some sappy thing about how as one life enters one leaves, but Dummy died almost 20 days later on June 16 or 17 and, come on. I don't want to say sappy, idiotic things like that.
The last notable event was this...look closely. Open the picture, peer at it.
Yep, it's what it looks like. Here's afterwards:
It's his tail, if you can't tell. So, I can't say that he left because he got headbutted and got his tail bit two or three times by a goat in labor, because I think he actually stayed around for another day. (He had no idea what a headbutting was, so he did not evade.) I think he left because it was June, and June's a nice time to get hit by a car, I figure he figured.
At first we were sad, then we realized...we hate that rotten ne'er-do-well! He was getting nearly unbearable. He's just too stupid to learn how to behave. We don't know what happened, but the theories are as follows:
Matt killed him and hid him.
He died under the house.
Matt killed him and Mom hid him, thus why she's so sure that he's gone for good.
He is actually gone and apprehended or hit by a car/truck.
Mom killed him and hid him.
Notice me and my dad did no killing? Yeah, shame on you, Mom and Matt. Killers.
Hey, by the way...expect a post about slaughtering goats, soon. Me and my dad are going to drown then behead and cut up a three month old baby! This is gonna be great.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The New Dog Alpha
Yep, since Hannah died (I have yet to create her surely "inappropriate" montage), the dogs have been figuring out who the new alpha is. If you don't understand, well, the alpha is the leader of the dog pack... understand?
The first thought was that it would be Little Jihad. But I knew he was way too stupid...and lazy. I had a feeling it would be Daisy, seeing as how Daisy was Hannah's only competition on the yard, and none of the other dogs have any drive to be the alpha. It's only logical.
Then I go outside one day and find THIS:
Yep...Daisy beat them all down. Confound it, it says 2007...that's why I don't EVER imprint dates onto my pictures, unless I'm like, taking pictures of um, ...boiled eggs, or something, and I need to know when they're going rotten.
Now, off I go. I have a song to memorize by tonight.
The first thought was that it would be Little Jihad. But I knew he was way too stupid...and lazy. I had a feeling it would be Daisy, seeing as how Daisy was Hannah's only competition on the yard, and none of the other dogs have any drive to be the alpha. It's only logical.
Then I go outside one day and find THIS:
Yep...Daisy beat them all down. Confound it, it says 2007...that's why I don't EVER imprint dates onto my pictures, unless I'm like, taking pictures of um, ...boiled eggs, or something, and I need to know when they're going rotten.
Now, off I go. I have a song to memorize by tonight.
Monday, April 07, 2008
TWTTWTW #3: Sick and Sick Again. Again. And Forbidden Planet.
Welcome to my third update post, the series of which is called TWTTWTW, for Those Were The Three Weeks That Were (or That Was The Three Weeks That Were, whichever you prefer). Because I took a break from March 3rd to March 22nd, I need to cover everything that happened. Sick and Sick Again is located at the link over the words "Sick and Sick Again." That was the second update post. This post...is obviously the second part of that post. Got it? Good.
So, I discovered that the Asian woman- her name is Sandra- from Command and Conquer 3 is General Granger's "intelligence officer." Kind of, at least. Kirce James- the psychotic woman who seems as if she has rabies- is the "Commander"'s intelligence officer. What a twisted web we weave. Next week on Video Game Characters, we examine the stunning similarity of Ajay and my Pastor, Arjay. But who could Pastor's Kane be? Also, I digress into raves about my morals, and how they restrain me from insulting TWWMNBN (she must not be named) in the best possible way. I name in detail, with the swear words made blank, all my favorite ways of insulting both her abilities and her fans. And her breasts.
Also, I go on a raving mad rave about the most dread, heart-dropping, horrific media I could imagine...a Metroid Movie. I quip that I would buy a .45 caliber handgun at the same purchase as the movie. Pastor says that a .45 to the temple is the only way out of this world, and I would be vacating shortly thereafter.
Tuesday, March 11th; 9 days in (into the Blog Break.)
On this day it officially hit me that I was sick. Ooghu. My flesh ached, my joints were sore and tender, and I constantly had to go to the bathroom but didn't want to get up. This led to several long introspective sessions of considering the ups and downs of just...y'know...not going to the bath room. Common sense and potty training won out every time.
I took my temperature. 99.5 degrees. I had to take it with the kitchen thermometer...the next pork chop that's tested with that baby will definitely get sick before it's eaten. If the temperature of the porkchop isn't high enough to kill all the virals. I considered calling Pastor for a miracle healing, but that wouldn't of worked out. He never wants to miracle heal anyone. I sent both him and Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles an email stating I would miss Bible study the next day.
Thursday, March 13th; 11 days in.
Drat, I missed Wednesday service and so did my dad. Pastor supposedly taped it for us. He's a liar and a thief, so I'm not sure if he did or not. Though, he's very reliable.
When I miss a service, I usually end up crying myself to sleep. Which I did last night. Twice (I had to go to the bathroom mid-night.) That's why after I miss a service I usually have a few new wrinkled pages in my Bible. Those tears are a memorial. "I hate crying myself to sleep," they say. Also, they ask "Why do I cry into my Bible when I know it's made of wrinkleable paper."
I was feeling a lot better on this day, but nowhere near 100%. First it was "popsicles that aren't medicated," now it was "lollipops that aren't medicated." Darn it. Solace came in the form of a DVD Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles gave me out of the back of his Solara. It's calledSpace Cowboys in Space Forbidden Planet. Wow, Bowser! What a movie! It was very mushy. Very mushy.
Forbidden Planet is an older movie, but it has color to it. Ignoring the mushy scenes, I give it a 9.5. I don't think any movie I've ever watched has gone beyond a 9.5. It was before computers went Hollywood, back when they didn't call it "programming," but "monitoring." Programming didn't exist I guess. They calls it monitoring, the foolses.
The movie reminds me a lot of Metroid. The atmosphere is very similar. It even has an oddball blond in it! Though, I think she's fully human, and doesn't have another species' blood coursing through her veins. And I noticed a distinct lack of "implants" in her. You know, implants...like...y'know...the one in Samus Aran's left hand. So you know, she is solely responsible for me thinking the Mark of the Beast goes in the left hand. Link, Zelda, and Gannondorf are the ones with the Marks of the Beast in their right hands/forehead. Got to keep that straight. Yeah..................they've got the Mark of the Beast......in their hands...and/or forehead. "Picz or it didn't happen," you say? Fine, I'll detail it later. Remind me.
I had a really tough time getting water that week. In fact, I only got one for The Thirsty Wolf and one for us. We needed two or three more, I am not sure when I got that. We had pizza for dinner. It was triangly bread with sauce and cheese on it, as always.
I also saw a CNC3 Tank Rush executed for the first time. It's quite a strange maneuver. You get a crazy-go-nuts economy established, and build a whole lot of tanks. Or "rocket guys." Then, your little wave of tanks clashes against the other guy's wave of tanks. Whoever wins destroys a few enemy buildings (best case), while both sides build more tanks for a second battle. I am horrible at combat. My wheels just don't turn that way unless I practice for a long, long, long time. Then I end up being the best player in said game. It's a curse. CNC3 is a bit too graphics-intensive for my laptop, so I really can only do 1v1 games. 1v1v1 or 1v2 games can slow pretty bad if either enemy is being infantry-centric.
I also finished the Nod Campaign for the first time! I couldn't make it last time. I had played too much and was bored so I didn't continue on. The ending was HORRIBLE. The ending was so bad, that if that ending was a horse, and the rider was a redneck, uh...I don't know where I'm going with this...uhh...you mow your lawn and find a car. It was THAT bad! Recovery depends on how they handle it in Kane's Wrath, the expansion pack, or "next part of the story" for you humble fools.
Time to end this unholy affair. Looks like there might be a Sick and Sick Again. Again. FOR A THIRD TIME. post. You know, I think that if I shorten my post length any, I'll miss transmission of valuable backstory. What do you think? Are my posts too long? Should I do a poll about that? Y/N? ASL?
So, I discovered that the Asian woman- her name is Sandra- from Command and Conquer 3 is General Granger's "intelligence officer." Kind of, at least. Kirce James- the psychotic woman who seems as if she has rabies- is the "Commander"'s intelligence officer. What a twisted web we weave. Next week on Video Game Characters, we examine the stunning similarity of Ajay and my Pastor, Arjay. But who could Pastor's Kane be? Also, I digress into raves about my morals, and how they restrain me from insulting TWWMNBN (she must not be named) in the best possible way. I name in detail, with the swear words made blank, all my favorite ways of insulting both her abilities and her fans. And her breasts.
Also, I go on a raving mad rave about the most dread, heart-dropping, horrific media I could imagine...a Metroid Movie. I quip that I would buy a .45 caliber handgun at the same purchase as the movie. Pastor says that a .45 to the temple is the only way out of this world, and I would be vacating shortly thereafter.
Tuesday, March 11th; 9 days in (into the Blog Break.)
On this day it officially hit me that I was sick. Ooghu. My flesh ached, my joints were sore and tender, and I constantly had to go to the bathroom but didn't want to get up. This led to several long introspective sessions of considering the ups and downs of just...y'know...not going to the bath room. Common sense and potty training won out every time.
I took my temperature. 99.5 degrees. I had to take it with the kitchen thermometer...the next pork chop that's tested with that baby will definitely get sick before it's eaten. If the temperature of the porkchop isn't high enough to kill all the virals. I considered calling Pastor for a miracle healing, but that wouldn't of worked out. He never wants to miracle heal anyone. I sent both him and Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles an email stating I would miss Bible study the next day.
Thursday, March 13th; 11 days in.
Drat, I missed Wednesday service and so did my dad. Pastor supposedly taped it for us. He's a liar and a thief, so I'm not sure if he did or not. Though, he's very reliable.
When I miss a service, I usually end up crying myself to sleep. Which I did last night. Twice (I had to go to the bathroom mid-night.) That's why after I miss a service I usually have a few new wrinkled pages in my Bible. Those tears are a memorial. "I hate crying myself to sleep," they say. Also, they ask "Why do I cry into my Bible when I know it's made of wrinkleable paper."
I was feeling a lot better on this day, but nowhere near 100%. First it was "popsicles that aren't medicated," now it was "lollipops that aren't medicated." Darn it. Solace came in the form of a DVD Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles gave me out of the back of his Solara. It's called
Forbidden Planet is an older movie, but it has color to it. Ignoring the mushy scenes, I give it a 9.5. I don't think any movie I've ever watched has gone beyond a 9.5. It was before computers went Hollywood, back when they didn't call it "programming," but "monitoring." Programming didn't exist I guess. They calls it monitoring, the foolses.
The movie reminds me a lot of Metroid. The atmosphere is very similar. It even has an oddball blond in it! Though, I think she's fully human, and doesn't have another species' blood coursing through her veins. And I noticed a distinct lack of "implants" in her. You know, implants...like...y'know...the one in Samus Aran's left hand. So you know, she is solely responsible for me thinking the Mark of the Beast goes in the left hand. Link, Zelda, and Gannondorf are the ones with the Marks of the Beast in their right hands/forehead. Got to keep that straight. Yeah..................they've got the Mark of the Beast......in their hands...and/or forehead. "Picz or it didn't happen," you say? Fine, I'll detail it later. Remind me.
I had a really tough time getting water that week. In fact, I only got one for The Thirsty Wolf and one for us. We needed two or three more, I am not sure when I got that. We had pizza for dinner. It was triangly bread with sauce and cheese on it, as always.
I also saw a CNC3 Tank Rush executed for the first time. It's quite a strange maneuver. You get a crazy-go-nuts economy established, and build a whole lot of tanks. Or "rocket guys." Then, your little wave of tanks clashes against the other guy's wave of tanks. Whoever wins destroys a few enemy buildings (best case), while both sides build more tanks for a second battle. I am horrible at combat. My wheels just don't turn that way unless I practice for a long, long, long time. Then I end up being the best player in said game. It's a curse. CNC3 is a bit too graphics-intensive for my laptop, so I really can only do 1v1 games. 1v1v1 or 1v2 games can slow pretty bad if either enemy is being infantry-centric.
I also finished the Nod Campaign for the first time! I couldn't make it last time. I had played too much and was bored so I didn't continue on. The ending was HORRIBLE. The ending was so bad, that if that ending was a horse, and the rider was a redneck, uh...I don't know where I'm going with this...uhh...you mow your lawn and find a car. It was THAT bad! Recovery depends on how they handle it in Kane's Wrath, the expansion pack, or "next part of the story" for you humble fools.
Time to end this unholy affair. Looks like there might be a Sick and Sick Again. Again. FOR A THIRD TIME. post. You know, I think that if I shorten my post length any, I'll miss transmission of valuable backstory. What do you think? Are my posts too long? Should I do a poll about that? Y/N? ASL?
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Kev's First Encounter with the Highway Patrol
So yesterday, I was on my way to Bible study. Like I always am. The demon tonsil's face had melted, and I was feeling much better. Really, as long as I know that it won't spawn arms and reach out of my mouth and grab the wheel and crash me, I'm fine. Things were lookin' good.
It had been several weeks since I drove. Since my pa is going to Bible study, I don't get that chance to stay in tune...so I was driving along. It was kind of difficult- the steering wheel shudders, and it was difficult to accelerate and felt a little like I was driving on sand for the last half of the trek. The steering wheel always shudders and vibrates and shimmies and shakes, but the sand driving was new.
Because I hadn't driven the Pathfinder for a while, I didn't know if it was just another condition it developed, or if something was wrong. It actually felt as if the wind were blowing, which it were. Bah, I'm making good time! I believe was my rationale.
Then I had to merge into a freeway lane, right before a curvy-style 1-lane onramp. Cars were pouring in. All of a sudden, it felt as if the road opened up and Satan reached his ghastly fingernail out and ripped the rubber off of the tire. The car went up and down and up and down...so I stopped.
Turns out, the tire had esploded! I didn't hear a thing.
So I went a-plotting. I had to either get across three very busy freeway lanes to get to the other side which was less busy, or go forward and block the onramp for a time as I hobbled to the gore zone and hope to God that the 300-cars-a-minute-going-60-MPH did not rear-end me.
It seemed I was stuck. My only hope was to make the still-suicidal jump to the less busy side of the freeway. About then, on the opposite side of the freeway, a policeman turned his lights and flashers on. I figured he saw me and was coming in Real Life 3D! to save me! I put my escape plans on hold.
I had already been here 15 or so minutes. It was a sticky situation; the people in the lane behind me had to get over to stay on the freeway, and the people in the lane next to me had to get over into my lane to get off of the freeway. They developed their own little lane going next to me.
5 minutes later, a highway patrolman showed up. "Yes! Thank God!" I said amongst myself. He walked up. "Howdy, sir." I said. "How's it going?" "I'm a little stuck." "Alright, we're not gonna stay here. What we're gonna do is head for the gore zone." "OK."
Onward we hobbled. I don't know how he stopped traffic aside from that he was a policeman. There's no way that any normal person could do that. A minute or ten later and we were there. I hopped out and introduced myself. "I'm Officer Mammoth Armed Reclamation Vehicle." "WHAT?" "Uh, I said, I'm Officer Marv. Are you alright, sir?" "...yeah, I think so."
He asked me if I were able to change it on my own. "I think I were, let me just make sure I have all the odds and the jack...oh, no lug-wrench, and without the lug-wrench, the jack won't work and the tire can't be dropped out of its holder."
Here is the halfway point at which you can go fetch a moolatte or whatever and come back to read. It's a long post.
What followed was quite possibly the most humorous slapstick comedy ever performed by a Highway Patrolman Marv and Person with Flat Tire. "No, it goes in THIS way!" "Yeah?! Get me a pair of pliers!" "I don't know about pliers, try your TEETH! They're ugly enough!" "Oh yeah?! How about we just use the barrel of your gun! Knowing YOU thus far, it probably shoots SQUARE BULLETS, SQUARE!"
"Yeah?! What's this guitar do? Do you use it as a woodwind? You seem STUPID enough to! And your teeth are BAD ENOUGH to! Do you floss with the E STRING?!" "No, but what are the cuffs for? Do you use them to hogtie pigs because you can't tie knots like a GIRL!?" "No, but I bet you do, FARM BOY!" "Oh yeah?! WELL, AT LEAST MY CAR DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A GIRL DRIVES IT!" "YEAH?! WELL, AT LEAST IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A GIRL IS DRIVING MY CAR!" "AT LEAST MY FACE ISN'T AS UGLY AS YOURS!" "AT LEAST I DON'T LOOK AS MUCH LIKE A SISSY GIRL AS YOU DO!" "YOU BRING SHAME TO YOUR BADGE!" "YOU BRING SHAME TO HUMANITY!" "YOU MAKE APES LOOK APPEALING!" "YOU MAKE LIVING A HERMIT LIFE SO I'LL NEVER HAVE TO RISK SEEING YOU AGAIN SEEM APPEALING!!!" "YOU ARE SO STUPID, AND UGLY, AND OVERALL WORTHLESS, THAT IF ALIENS INVADED-"
So, we determined that without the lug wrench, it wasn't going to work. I shook his hand and sent him off, telling him that help was on the way. Church wasn't far. They're helpers. He lit three flares for me! Just for me! Wow!
I was told that The Pit Bull, better known as The Hitman, was on his way. I could just imagine him, an ex-hitman, driving very coldly and methodically to the scene. Then I got the call. "Hey, your dad is about 10 miles away, so The Hitman's coming back to home base."
After another half-an-hour of antics related to us not having that stupid lug wrench (my dad was and still is in disbelief), me and pa were off. We missed the first half of Bible study. They were running completely off of a skeleton crew. I guess once everyone heard I wasn't showing, they just didn't go.
Afterward, I broke the news to The Hitman. "So, I got a second computer, and started a second blog." "Really. Did you close down your first blog?" "Nope." "Huh. That's good." Then he gave Pastor a goofy-looking sword. Then, we made a trek to a new eatery. It was good, but something was missing. I think I'll have relish on my burger next time. Afterward, Don Horsegoggles made a comment about a mad supercomputer impregnating a human female. More on that later.
It had been several weeks since I drove. Since my pa is going to Bible study, I don't get that chance to stay in tune...so I was driving along. It was kind of difficult- the steering wheel shudders, and it was difficult to accelerate and felt a little like I was driving on sand for the last half of the trek. The steering wheel always shudders and vibrates and shimmies and shakes, but the sand driving was new.
Because I hadn't driven the Pathfinder for a while, I didn't know if it was just another condition it developed, or if something was wrong. It actually felt as if the wind were blowing, which it were. Bah, I'm making good time! I believe was my rationale.
Then I had to merge into a freeway lane, right before a curvy-style 1-lane onramp. Cars were pouring in. All of a sudden, it felt as if the road opened up and Satan reached his ghastly fingernail out and ripped the rubber off of the tire. The car went up and down and up and down...so I stopped.
Turns out, the tire had esploded! I didn't hear a thing.
So I went a-plotting. I had to either get across three very busy freeway lanes to get to the other side which was less busy, or go forward and block the onramp for a time as I hobbled to the gore zone and hope to God that the 300-cars-a-minute-going-60-MPH did not rear-end me.
It seemed I was stuck. My only hope was to make the still-suicidal jump to the less busy side of the freeway. About then, on the opposite side of the freeway, a policeman turned his lights and flashers on. I figured he saw me and was coming in Real Life 3D! to save me! I put my escape plans on hold.
I had already been here 15 or so minutes. It was a sticky situation; the people in the lane behind me had to get over to stay on the freeway, and the people in the lane next to me had to get over into my lane to get off of the freeway. They developed their own little lane going next to me.
5 minutes later, a highway patrolman showed up. "Yes! Thank God!" I said amongst myself. He walked up. "Howdy, sir." I said. "How's it going?" "I'm a little stuck." "Alright, we're not gonna stay here. What we're gonna do is head for the gore zone." "OK."
Onward we hobbled. I don't know how he stopped traffic aside from that he was a policeman. There's no way that any normal person could do that. A minute or ten later and we were there. I hopped out and introduced myself. "I'm Officer Mammoth Armed Reclamation Vehicle." "WHAT?" "Uh, I said, I'm Officer Marv. Are you alright, sir?" "...yeah, I think so."
He asked me if I were able to change it on my own. "I think I were, let me just make sure I have all the odds and the jack...oh, no lug-wrench, and without the lug-wrench, the jack won't work and the tire can't be dropped out of its holder."
Here is the halfway point at which you can go fetch a moolatte or whatever and come back to read. It's a long post.
What followed was quite possibly the most humorous slapstick comedy ever performed by a Highway Patrolman Marv and Person with Flat Tire. "No, it goes in THIS way!" "Yeah?! Get me a pair of pliers!" "I don't know about pliers, try your TEETH! They're ugly enough!" "Oh yeah?! How about we just use the barrel of your gun! Knowing YOU thus far, it probably shoots SQUARE BULLETS, SQUARE!"
"Yeah?! What's this guitar do? Do you use it as a woodwind? You seem STUPID enough to! And your teeth are BAD ENOUGH to! Do you floss with the E STRING?!" "No, but what are the cuffs for? Do you use them to hogtie pigs because you can't tie knots like a GIRL!?" "No, but I bet you do, FARM BOY!" "Oh yeah?! WELL, AT LEAST MY CAR DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A GIRL DRIVES IT!" "YEAH?! WELL, AT LEAST IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A GIRL IS DRIVING MY CAR!" "AT LEAST MY FACE ISN'T AS UGLY AS YOURS!" "AT LEAST I DON'T LOOK AS MUCH LIKE A SISSY GIRL AS YOU DO!" "YOU BRING SHAME TO YOUR BADGE!" "YOU BRING SHAME TO HUMANITY!" "YOU MAKE APES LOOK APPEALING!" "YOU MAKE LIVING A HERMIT LIFE SO I'LL NEVER HAVE TO RISK SEEING YOU AGAIN SEEM APPEALING!!!" "YOU ARE SO STUPID, AND UGLY, AND OVERALL WORTHLESS, THAT IF ALIENS INVADED-"
So, we determined that without the lug wrench, it wasn't going to work. I shook his hand and sent him off, telling him that help was on the way. Church wasn't far. They're helpers. He lit three flares for me! Just for me! Wow!
I was told that The Pit Bull, better known as The Hitman, was on his way. I could just imagine him, an ex-hitman, driving very coldly and methodically to the scene. Then I got the call. "Hey, your dad is about 10 miles away, so The Hitman's coming back to home base."
After another half-an-hour of antics related to us not having that stupid lug wrench (my dad was and still is in disbelief), me and pa were off. We missed the first half of Bible study. They were running completely off of a skeleton crew. I guess once everyone heard I wasn't showing, they just didn't go.
Afterward, I broke the news to The Hitman. "So, I got a second computer, and started a second blog." "Really. Did you close down your first blog?" "Nope." "Huh. That's good." Then he gave Pastor a goofy-looking sword. Then, we made a trek to a new eatery. It was good, but something was missing. I think I'll have relish on my burger next time. Afterward, Don Horsegoggles made a comment about a mad supercomputer impregnating a human female. More on that later.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
TWTTWTW #2: Sick and Sick Again
Yes, welcome to my second update post, the series of which is called TWTTWTW, for Those Were The Three Weeks That Were (or That Was The Three Weeks That Were, whichever you prefer). Because I took a break from March 3rd to March 22nd, I need to cover everything that happened.
Today I discover that I am sick. I've been getting sick for several days. Come to think of it, I've been missing meals, too. It started three days ago with sore sinuses...I know, I wouldn't of been able to imagine what sore sinuses were, either.
Coincidentally enough, my next post in the TWTTWTW series is about how I got sick. (I think it's both Blog Withdrawal, and Blog Reentry related.) I don't expect to get very sick, because I did not destroy my immune system as in the following recounting of failure.
Today I discover that I am sick. I've been getting sick for several days. Come to think of it, I've been missing meals, too. It started three days ago with sore sinuses...I know, I wouldn't of been able to imagine what sore sinuses were, either.
Coincidentally enough, my next post in the TWTTWTW series is about how I got sick. (I think it's both Blog Withdrawal, and Blog Reentry related.) I don't expect to get very sick, because I did not destroy my immune system as in the following recounting of failure.
Monday, March 10th; 8 days in.
Today, I began to get sick. Not the good, "It's my birthday and my Granny is coming over and I'm playing Metroid Prime 2: Echoes and also have to go vacuum the floor" kind, either. It began Monday morning with a "scratchy" throat and by the end of the day it was "sore-scratchy." Luckily, we had some Popsicles on hand, so I ate those.
...but apparently, I was just coating my throat in sugar, because it turns out that the only kind of Popsicles that help would be the medicated kind. Or some kinda super Popsicle with lemon and honey in it. That's impossible, though, such things don't exist.
My mom was also sick, and so was my dad. He had it the least, I had it the most, Mom had it the middlemost. I think that I got so sick because several days before the sickness took full hold, I had went to work with my dad on only 3 hours of sleep.
I'm beginning to dislike being 18. The lack of sympathy is astounding. I'd say things like "I'm dying! Call General Cortez and tell him that I located Cabal's core! Call Lt. Eva and tell her I really appreciated the moral support and that whole "intelligence officer" thing and that I do think it's lucky that she has a job! Call General "Pinpoint" Townes and tell him it's idiotic how his tanks have to be plugged in to run! Call that one Asian woman from Command and Conquer 3 and ask her exactly what her role is aside from acting cool, because, God help me, I FORGOOOOT!"
When I'm sick, sometimes I'm trying to say "I need a glass of water," but I end up going on and on about either Job or Command and Conquer. They just think I'm hallucinating or something. Ah, Lt. Eva...the face of peace for all the long weeks of brutal fighting in Red Alert 2. Einstein was pretty peaceful, too, but he appeared with Tanya a little to often, and- hey! How did I get talking about Red Alert 2?!
Hmm, this post is already over. The next part of this post will be called Sick and Sick Again. Again., and I should be able to make an entire post with the material I have remaining. Its difficult to string all these posts together.
...but apparently, I was just coating my throat in sugar, because it turns out that the only kind of Popsicles that help would be the medicated kind. Or some kinda super Popsicle with lemon and honey in it. That's impossible, though, such things don't exist.
My mom was also sick, and so was my dad. He had it the least, I had it the most, Mom had it the middlemost. I think that I got so sick because several days before the sickness took full hold, I had went to work with my dad on only 3 hours of sleep.
I'm beginning to dislike being 18. The lack of sympathy is astounding. I'd say things like "I'm dying! Call General Cortez and tell him that I located Cabal's core! Call Lt. Eva and tell her I really appreciated the moral support and that whole "intelligence officer" thing and that I do think it's lucky that she has a job! Call General "Pinpoint" Townes and tell him it's idiotic how his tanks have to be plugged in to run! Call that one Asian woman from Command and Conquer 3 and ask her exactly what her role is aside from acting cool, because, God help me, I FORGOOOOT!"
When I'm sick, sometimes I'm trying to say "I need a glass of water," but I end up going on and on about either Job or Command and Conquer. They just think I'm hallucinating or something. Ah, Lt. Eva...the face of peace for all the long weeks of brutal fighting in Red Alert 2. Einstein was pretty peaceful, too, but he appeared with Tanya a little to often, and- hey! How did I get talking about Red Alert 2?!
Hmm, this post is already over. The next part of this post will be called Sick and Sick Again. Again., and I should be able to make an entire post with the material I have remaining. Its difficult to string all these posts together.
TWTTWTW #1: Bible Study Aborted: Montana Avalanched
Yes, welcome to my update post, the series of which is called TWTTWTW, for Those Were The Three Weeks That Were (or That Was The Three Weeks That Were, whichever you prefer). Because I took a break from March 3rd to March 22nd, I need to cover everything that happened. For my notes, yesterday we received a squeeze load of hay.
Alright, here's how it goes. I'll do like this:
Wednesday, March 5th; 3 days in.
On this day I went to Bible study, like I usually do on Wednesday nights. As I turned into the lot, I gave my mom a call. "Hey Kev, Pastor tried to call you; there's no church tonight!" "What?! No church tonight?!" "Yeah! No church tonight! Call him." "OK."
Turns out, my cellphone was not receiving calls. I hate cheap kit. It makes me sick sometimes. Sure enough, I had a voicemail. "KEV, THIS IS PASTOR...UH, NO CHURCH TONIGHT, I'M SORRY, I FAILED!" (His voice is always in caps in voicemail for some reason.)
So I hopped onto the freeway looking over the most likely route he took. Then I abandoned mission, because I would probably embarrass him more than I would comfort him. I gave him a call. "Hey, Kev!" he said. "Hi Pastor! I heard that your car exploded in a flaming explosion of death!" "Nope, but we'll have to practice for our Manmanet next week." "OK. I'll go back to the church and hang out in case anyone shows up you couldn't reach." "OK, good idea, Kev."
As I pulled into the parking lot the second time, I pulled in behind none other than Don Horsegoggles! I opened the window. "Hey, did you hear? No church tonight. Pastor broke down." I went to park. When I approached, Don Feldick looked concerned. "Is he alright?" he asked. "Yeah, I think his engine block pulled a Red Sea, if you know what I mean." "Oh! You mean, his car broke down!" he said, relieved. (Actually, the fuel filter exploded, his engine block didn't split. Pastor's van is a Montana, and it got "Avalanched." Cute, isn't it.)
"Yeah. What did you think, he got a piano dropped on him?" "Uh, no, but I didn't know what to think. I was actually thinking, 'Wow, we take this guy for granted.'" "Yeah, I think we take him for granted, too. Well, you do at least. Me, I'm his float-hand man."
He just looked at me. "What do you mean by float-hand man?" he asked. "...well, you know, I'm not his right nor left hand, but I serve as support. You know, I'm like that dude who got into William Wallace's camp and near him with a weapon, then turned out to be an unspoken support man for him. Like a left-left or right-right hand man." "...who's William Wallace?" "No one important."
About that time, Mr. and Mrs. Bruckner pulled up to assist us in waiting. My mom says that seeing me and Mr. Bruckner interact reminds her of Dennis the Menace. I guess Dennis worked well with his church hymn leader? I am not a fan, so I'm not sure. I didn't even know the kid went to church.
Once we were sure no one else would show up, me and Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles went to Denny's. I decided to try the Super Bird sandwich. One word: don't try it. It's an OK premise, but the meat that they put on it is...not that good considering that it costs about the same as a hamburger. I guess hamburger must be cheaper than turkey. Compared to The Completely Awesome Reuben Sandwich Which Defies Physics I had in California, this was like kissing someone who smokes. Who had been dead for a month and a half.
Not that I know what that's like- I don't even know what it's like to see a dead body- but I assume it would be pretty unnerving, much like the sandwich. My mom still likes it, though.
Me and Don, though, we talked about everything. Our hopes, our dreams, our aspirations, our families, why motorcycles are fun (I bet it would look so cool for Samus Aran to be flying across the ground like Evel Knievel after a crash...wait, morph ball! AWESOME!) but it's not good to give kids excuses to ride them, how Hollywood is horrible (I mentioned that that's probably why I like video games), and he suggested I watch a movie called Forbidden Planet. He said he'd burn me a copy of it. He's the church pirate. I think he keeps a bunch of movies on his laptop hard drive and burns people copies out of the back of his Solara on weekends. How else could he afford to wear a T-shirt in dead Winter? Go Don!
On the way out, I hit the claw machine (see the comments for the link). Me and Don talked for about an hour and a half. I guess we basically spent the time we would have in Bible study talking.
I like Caedmon's Call...the guitar sounds real nice. It's got a messy sound to it.
It's a weird style of music, though.
Alright, here's how it goes. I'll do like this:
Wednesday, March 5th; 3 days in.
On this day I went to Bible study, like I usually do on Wednesday nights. As I turned into the lot, I gave my mom a call. "Hey Kev, Pastor tried to call you; there's no church tonight!" "What?! No church tonight?!" "Yeah! No church tonight! Call him." "OK."
Turns out, my cellphone was not receiving calls. I hate cheap kit. It makes me sick sometimes. Sure enough, I had a voicemail. "KEV, THIS IS PASTOR...UH, NO CHURCH TONIGHT, I'M SORRY, I FAILED!" (His voice is always in caps in voicemail for some reason.)
So I hopped onto the freeway looking over the most likely route he took. Then I abandoned mission, because I would probably embarrass him more than I would comfort him. I gave him a call. "Hey, Kev!" he said. "Hi Pastor! I heard that your car exploded in a flaming explosion of death!" "Nope, but we'll have to practice for our Manmanet next week." "OK. I'll go back to the church and hang out in case anyone shows up you couldn't reach." "OK, good idea, Kev."
As I pulled into the parking lot the second time, I pulled in behind none other than Don Horsegoggles! I opened the window. "Hey, did you hear? No church tonight. Pastor broke down." I went to park. When I approached, Don Feldick looked concerned. "Is he alright?" he asked. "Yeah, I think his engine block pulled a Red Sea, if you know what I mean." "Oh! You mean, his car broke down!" he said, relieved. (Actually, the fuel filter exploded, his engine block didn't split. Pastor's van is a Montana, and it got "Avalanched." Cute, isn't it.)
"Yeah. What did you think, he got a piano dropped on him?" "Uh, no, but I didn't know what to think. I was actually thinking, 'Wow, we take this guy for granted.'" "Yeah, I think we take him for granted, too. Well, you do at least. Me, I'm his float-hand man."
He just looked at me. "What do you mean by float-hand man?" he asked. "...well, you know, I'm not his right nor left hand, but I serve as support. You know, I'm like that dude who got into William Wallace's camp and near him with a weapon, then turned out to be an unspoken support man for him. Like a left-left or right-right hand man." "...who's William Wallace?" "No one important."
About that time, Mr. and Mrs. Bruckner pulled up to assist us in waiting. My mom says that seeing me and Mr. Bruckner interact reminds her of Dennis the Menace. I guess Dennis worked well with his church hymn leader? I am not a fan, so I'm not sure. I didn't even know the kid went to church.
Once we were sure no one else would show up, me and Don "Feldick" Horsegoggles went to Denny's. I decided to try the Super Bird sandwich. One word: don't try it. It's an OK premise, but the meat that they put on it is...not that good considering that it costs about the same as a hamburger. I guess hamburger must be cheaper than turkey. Compared to The Completely Awesome Reuben Sandwich Which Defies Physics I had in California, this was like kissing someone who smokes. Who had been dead for a month and a half.
Not that I know what that's like- I don't even know what it's like to see a dead body- but I assume it would be pretty unnerving, much like the sandwich. My mom still likes it, though.
Me and Don, though, we talked about everything. Our hopes, our dreams, our aspirations, our families, why motorcycles are fun (I bet it would look so cool for Samus Aran to be flying across the ground like Evel Knievel after a crash...wait, morph ball! AWESOME!) but it's not good to give kids excuses to ride them, how Hollywood is horrible (I mentioned that that's probably why I like video games), and he suggested I watch a movie called Forbidden Planet. He said he'd burn me a copy of it. He's the church pirate. I think he keeps a bunch of movies on his laptop hard drive and burns people copies out of the back of his Solara on weekends. How else could he afford to wear a T-shirt in dead Winter? Go Don!
On the way out, I hit the claw machine (see the comments for the link). Me and Don talked for about an hour and a half. I guess we basically spent the time we would have in Bible study talking.
I like Caedmon's Call...the guitar sounds real nice. It's got a messy sound to it.
It's a weird style of music, though.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Guitar Update #2: It's Official
On the 24th of February, I bought M.P. Echo, my guitar. It's an FG700s. Get it? FG? FGGJP? I'm so great, I amaze myself. See the Guitar Update #1 for other "valuable" guitar related materials. By the way, welcome the "Guitar" tag, for all things guitar and partially applying to musical performances!
So now that it's the 26th of March, I have no option of returning it. Therefore, I'm keeping it. I like the guitar. I need to learn some more songs for it, that's for sure.
You'll note that I bought the guitar on February 24th, and my first recorded performance was March 24th, 30 days later! Yes, on Monday, I sang at a wedding, and I also played my guitar. I'll post about the wedding soon. But for now, listen to my performance, below! I didn't include the video. The file is 2 MB in size, according to Blogger.
...yeah!
It was quite a day. If you can believe it, I randomly got a guitar lesson the day before in church which gave me a little bit of inspiration. The teacher was none other than Dave Spider, who has a "variety show" which he performs. Apparently, he's a real jokepot. All I know is that he's a patient guy. I learned so much, I can't believe it. It was like his knowledge was crushed walnuts, and I was an apple coated in caramel, and I was rolled around in his knowledge.
David dataDyne is also learning to play the guitar, and even though he's ages ahead of me, he was also absorbing. Dave (Dave Spider; they're both named David) conned him into becoming my teacher, so now I'll be learning how to play the guitar from David dataDyne. It'll mostly consist of me and him getting together once a month and him telling me I do everything wrong.
Then, it will advance into once-a-week, two-hour-long meetings where we practice the hymns for that week. We're going to become the players for the church...Mr. Bruckner will still sing, but we'll play. He may start performing before I do, but I'm sure I'll be able to grasp some basic songs within a few months. I want to learn the one song he played. Maybe he has TAB (guitar musical language) for it.
As of (around) March 15th, my fingers no longer feel like they've been cut, burned, and crushed simultaneously, but they do get pretty sore and tender after I've been playing a long time. When you play for even one person, though, you don't feel it. I was nervous. Also, my strumming hand doesn't lose its coordination nearly as quickly. I can now play for about half an hour, whereas before I could only play for about 3 minutes, then 5 minutes, then 10 minutes.
I'm developing the calluses at a good rate, too. Time to end this post, though. I still only know the chords Dmajor, and Amajor, and Gmajor. I remember them quickly and easily by Delactation, Antigalactic, and Galactometer...D, A, G. What?...don't give me that "You've made yourself look like a freak" look again. Do YOU know of an easier way to remember the chords?!
I'll make another update some other time. For now, it's time to do laundry. Off I go.
So now that it's the 26th of March, I have no option of returning it. Therefore, I'm keeping it. I like the guitar. I need to learn some more songs for it, that's for sure.
You'll note that I bought the guitar on February 24th, and my first recorded performance was March 24th, 30 days later! Yes, on Monday, I sang at a wedding, and I also played my guitar. I'll post about the wedding soon. But for now, listen to my performance, below! I didn't include the video. The file is 2 MB in size, according to Blogger.
...yeah!
It was quite a day. If you can believe it, I randomly got a guitar lesson the day before in church which gave me a little bit of inspiration. The teacher was none other than Dave Spider, who has a "variety show" which he performs. Apparently, he's a real jokepot. All I know is that he's a patient guy. I learned so much, I can't believe it. It was like his knowledge was crushed walnuts, and I was an apple coated in caramel, and I was rolled around in his knowledge.
David dataDyne is also learning to play the guitar, and even though he's ages ahead of me, he was also absorbing. Dave (Dave Spider; they're both named David) conned him into becoming my teacher, so now I'll be learning how to play the guitar from David dataDyne. It'll mostly consist of me and him getting together once a month and him telling me I do everything wrong.
Then, it will advance into once-a-week, two-hour-long meetings where we practice the hymns for that week. We're going to become the players for the church...Mr. Bruckner will still sing, but we'll play. He may start performing before I do, but I'm sure I'll be able to grasp some basic songs within a few months. I want to learn the one song he played. Maybe he has TAB (guitar musical language) for it.
As of (around) March 15th, my fingers no longer feel like they've been cut, burned, and crushed simultaneously, but they do get pretty sore and tender after I've been playing a long time. When you play for even one person, though, you don't feel it. I was nervous. Also, my strumming hand doesn't lose its coordination nearly as quickly. I can now play for about half an hour, whereas before I could only play for about 3 minutes, then 5 minutes, then 10 minutes.
I'm developing the calluses at a good rate, too. Time to end this post, though. I still only know the chords Dmajor, and Amajor, and Gmajor. I remember them quickly and easily by Delactation, Antigalactic, and Galactometer...D, A, G. What?...don't give me that "You've made yourself look like a freak" look again. Do YOU know of an easier way to remember the chords?!
I'll make another update some other time. For now, it's time to do laundry. Off I go.
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