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Friday, December 28, 2001
*jumps about like a jackhammer on crack* Hahaha!!!! It is MINE!! Heh. ^^;
So, um. There's this company, called Blue Box Toys, right? And they make some truly awesome toys...such as the 12-inch articulated Raziel doll. And if you ask me who Raziel is, I'll stare at you in silence for five minutes before closing my eyes, shaking my head, and saying, "Oh, you poor child." Anyway. Blue Box also makes a line of fully-articulated, heavily armed, really cool femmes called the Cy Girls, one of which is P-E-R-F-E-C-T to use for a custom Claire Redfield doll. *grins* Guess where a good chunk of my Christmas money just went.
They also have one that would make for an excellent Jill Valentine, and another for a so-so version of DinoCrisis' Regina. But, ah, as you may have surmised from the decor, I'm a bit of a Claire tramp.
Oooh, "surmised." Aren't I just verbose. Well...not for that, but, um....BWAHAHA! XD
sounds like backstreet boys, "the call" ... aka, the "i'm not cheating on you yet, but once i hang up the phone.....oh, yeah" song
:: at the tone, the time will be 11:56 PM ::
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Thursday, December 27, 2001
Okay, so...apparently Blogger was hacked. *twitch* They're reccommending you change your FTP password if you kept a record of it here, just in case. Which is good and fine and wise, and sucks righteously.
I just really don't feel digging out the URL for account maintenance, and going thru eighty "that certificate has expired" windows and then waiting an eon for it to load, and changing the password, and waiting an eon for the logout to load, and then hoping to god I can actually remember the password and/or that I typed it correctly.
What I would really like to do is talk to Des, and have a soda, and maybe curl up and watch my boys make asses of themselves on stage for a couple hours. Because really, what the hell is "Justin's Beat Box" anyway, and why do all the slash girls seem to think its a _really_ _good_ _thing_?
:: at the tone, the time will be 2:12 AM ::
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Tuesday, December 25, 2001
Merry fucking Christmas.
Sod off.
:: at the tone, the time will be 1:02 PM ::
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Saturday, December 22, 2001
Me is a sickie. Bleh. On the upside, skin me... is all shiny and new. *purrs*
Eck. Methinks me is going to go eat, and then sleep. Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Happy Solstice, y'all, a bit late, and happy whatever the hell else you celebrate. Good resties and nice-nice dreams to all my beloveds. *blows a kiss, then toddles off towards the kitchen, clutching JuJu Bear*
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:10 AM ::
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Thursday, December 20, 2001
WOO! I finally finally finally got the new layout for "skin me..." done. And the funny thing is, it looks almost exactly like the sketch I did last month when I was trying to figure out what I wanted. *grins and bounces*
Now if I could only figure out what to write for the main menu. *whimpers and drops head onto desk* I'm too tired for this shit....
:: at the tone, the time will be 1:20 AM ::
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Wednesday, December 19, 2001
I woke up this morning
with a bad hangover
and my penis was missing again.
This happens all the time --
its detachable.
......alright, no. But you know what's so? Today is MEGGER'S BIRTHDAY!!! *throws streamers and confetti, looses hundreds of balloons and wheels out a cake* Wheeee! Meggy! So how old are you now, sweetie? Cause if its a big one, I'm gonna have to break out the ice cream and strippers, too....
:: at the tone, the time will be 2:37 PM ::
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Tuesday, December 18, 2001
Its my mommy's bithday today. *sucks thumb* She's this many! *pulls a string and hoarde of foam fingers rains down from the ceiling* Hehe. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY! WO AI NI!!
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:52 AM ::
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Monday, December 17, 2001
I am a tomato. I am indecisive and sometimes pretend to be something I am not. I am unpredictable. What fruit are you?
*blinks quietly for several minutes before belching*
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:30 AM ::
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Its weird how, when I get in a fic-reading mood, I will put up with a lot of badness to satisify it, but then I find these strange little things that I just can not seem to handle. At the moment, I'm in a BSB slash place, and don't ask me why, because I don't know, and I don't want to, but I'm reading a fic, a series, no less, that is bad, oh, its so bad. There's spelling problems, and punctuation problems, and grammar problems, and fucking vocabulary problems...I almost want to think that English is a second or third (or fucking eighth) language for the author, but I know people who aren't native to the language, and their grammar/vocab problems are entirely different from the ones this person has.
I can't even say the premise is good, really, cause its kind of shaky, and not playing out that interestingly, so again, not sure why I'm still reading, except possibly I'm just that damn stubborn.
But what keeps killing me, and is driving me so nuts that I'm babbling all this, is their insistence on referring to Kevin Richardson's eyes as "sapphire green." >.< Ok, first? NO. Just...how does one come under the delusion that sapphire is a shade of green? I suppose I could flinch and tell myself that they've just confused sapphires and emeralds -- as painful as THAT would be -- but...his eyes aren't emerald, either. Now, peridot, maybe. So...pale, peircing green, confused with rich, vibrant blue. How...how does that fucking happen? I...shoot me, why am I still fucking reading this?!?
:: at the tone, the time will be 1:16 AM ::
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Sunday, December 16, 2001
Everytime I think I'm the dumbest mofo on the planet, someone goes out of their way to prove me wrong. Jesus H Fucking Christ on a retarded pony. I...ow, alright? Just fucking OW.
In high school I used to have this saying, "Sometimes I think the world should just blow up...but then something good comes on the radio." Now, its, "Sometimes I think. The world should just blow up."
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:01 AM ::
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Friday, December 14, 2001
OI! Somebody fuckin' hug me, alright? Cause...its just not going, and I want it to go, and when images stand up and say, "Dude. I'm the one. Use me" they should then fucking co-operate in the using. *growls and burns Brian Littrell in effigy*
*glower-pouts* I want a Coke. And gum. And boyband slash. And I want my frick-fracking H-U-G!!
......jeezus, now I'm using "frick-fracking" in sentences. Shoot me, stuff me, mount me.
:: at the tone, the time will be 10:25 PM ::
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You could try and tell me that he isn't Wufei made flesh...but I won't believe you.
*grins* The things we find looking for skinnable images, ne, minna? And that is not the only proof I have, either. I have other images that imply that Howie D is in fact Wu-chan. And contemplate his work environment for a moment, if you will. He's one of a team of five, who are rarely if ever seen seperately, and then not for long. He is the "huh? oh, yeah, he's there, too" guy in his group. And the other members line up a bit better than they should, too. You've the got the blonde baby of the group (Quatre/Nick), the strong silent leader (Heero/Kevin), the wild crazy one (Duo/AJ), and the very private, slightly-disturbing one (Trowa/Brian). All leading us to one very scary, cosmically wrong conclusion:
The Backstreet Boys are really Gundam Wing pilots.
*chortles* I shouldn't be allowed to think at six a.m., should I?
:: at the tone, the time will be 5:49 AM ::
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Wednesday, December 12, 2001
Alright, so. Stuff. Got skins I should upload, but I'm not, because dammit, I want my next update to be a layout update cause I want "version Mile End" to go away.
Which is especially odd because, hey, Ewan! and I really can't tell you what my problem is with it. I honestly have no idea. And I think I remember liking it at one point. Altho to be honest, the only layouts I'm liking right now are the bAoi main, and this one. And Mel did this one. *sits staring blankly for a moment, then leans over and attempts to kill the sP layout*
Jeez. I would suck cock for a Coke right now, I really would. And there are so many things wrong with that statement....
:: at the tone, the time will be 1:54 AM ::
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Monday, December 10, 2001
My fam apparently likes to watch dinosaur shows together. Apparently. I'm not complaining, really, I just think its a bit unusual.
The banner I made earlier is kind of bothering me. Its just eight shades of wrong. Cause....no. Not him, just...no. I really like it, tho. Its just...I'd rather have done a banner of someone I was at least vaguely obessed with. Or y'know, that I could deal with so much as liking. And if this is a sign of a burgeoning obsession, I just want to let anyone and everyone in charge that I will be hunting you down and killing all of you.
So of course I'm working on buttons to match it...oy.
:: at the tone, the time will be 2:52 AM ::
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Sunday, December 09, 2001
New banner at the homestead. And if you're thinking it features La-chan...oh, god, I wish. At least then I could grin and be proud.
Playing with a skin of Holly from Dream. Don't really want to skin Dream, even for the AmPop skins, but, um. I like the non-tall, non-blonde, non-perfectness of her, so.
Brought my bear home today. Color me all kinds of content.
Foodness calls. Love to Des and Mel and Megs and Lou.
:: at the tone, the time will be 7:04 PM ::
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Saturday, December 08, 2001
If I were a work of art, I would be Piet Mondrian's Composition A. I am rigidly organised and regimented, although my cold and unapproachable exterior hides a clever way of thinking and a rebellious and innovative nature. A lot of people don't understand me, but I can still affect them on an emotional level. Which work of art would you be?
Wow. That's really deep. Wish I knew who the fuck they were talking about, tho, cause it sure as shittin' ain't me. ........then again, I passionately hate the painting in question, so they could be onto something. *flinches slightly at the colors in the painting, and slips on a pair of sunglasses* Jesus, people. Could we pick something a little more harsh and ugly? I was almost starting to feel good about myself....
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:39 AM ::
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Thursday, December 06, 2001
Y'ever read a story, and its really good and maybe a little long, and when its over, you just have no fucking idea what really happened? And you kind of want to email the author, and just be like, "Ok, that story? VIOLENTLY didn't get it. But, oh, I loved it."
I'm just afraid she'll write back and be like, "Oh, yeah. No, I didn't get that one, either. Glad you enjoyed it, tho." And, um. Yeah. Cause, I...yeeeeaaaaah.
:: at the tone, the time will be 6:23 AM ::
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Tuesday, December 04, 2001
Signs that the world is ending...*Nsync appeared on the Billboard Music Awards dressed in *dun-dun-DUN* nuetral colors. *falls over from shock* It was creepy. They were all in brown and tan, with a couple touches of olive. Oh, and Timberlake had to be different and wear blue jeans. Anything to distract from the fact that your hair has returned, right, Jus-san? *twitch*
Of, course, the next awards show, Lance will look like a pimp, and Chris like a reject from a reggae-rap group, and JC will probably be wearing neon purple leopard-print leather pants with fur cuffs, but y'know. The Fashion Gods need to get their laughs, too. ^-^
:: at the tone, the time will be 11:59 PM ::
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My favorite thing about Wax Jism? She looks at Justin the way I look at Lance. The, ah. The boy band porn doesn't hurt, either. *grins*
Hm? What's that you say, Des? Fangirl? Why, yes, I am, thank you for noticing. *big sloppy kiss*
Oddly, I have been told I'm a fangirl before. By Michael. Right after he found out that I have an Obi-Wan haircut. I shit you not. Picture Obi in Ep1. Shorten the braid to roughly shoulder length, make the hair less spiky and darker, and ditch that stupid-ass ponytail in the back, and you have my hair. It has been this way over a year, and yes, I am fully planning on growing the braid until its at least as long as his was.
Oh, and by the way, Lance is, as we speak, hanging on my wall, looking very yummy in black leather, and yes, I am very very happy about it. ^__^
:: at the tone, the time will be 3:07 AM ::
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Sunday, December 02, 2001
Blyeh. I feel all worn and blffghrs.
And yes, that is a word. If you can use it in a sentence, it counts as a word.
Went to the Galleria with my mom today. Got absolutely nothing accomplished. I bought a Lance Bass calendar, tho, and had butter pecan yogurt, so I'm thinking the day wasn't a total bust.
And yes, I am smiling stupidly at the thought of Lance on my wall for a year.
Friday, at Towson Town with Amelia, I picked up a copy of *Nsync - Making the Tour...or, y'know, I handed Mel the money and the tape and got her to buy it for me, because I'm just not ready to do that myself. I'm still partially in denial. But, um. Its highly, highly entertaining. They're just such complete spazzoids. To my pain and horror, however, I discovered that my favorite part of one of my favorite ballads...is actually sung by Justin. Without that usual edge/twang he usually has, to be sure, but nonetheless, Justin. Which is wrong. Very vastly incredibly unbelievably wrong.
I mean, if I had to list my favorite male singers? Freddie Mercury, because he's fabulous. Bono, because his voice has the magic power to ease my headaches. David Bowie, because he's a fucking god. I could even tack on Lance Bass for the voice that makes my insides melt, and Ewan McGregor because the boy can just sing. But Justin Timberlake? He's...no. He makes 12 year olds cream their jeans. He...he's lame, and his head looks funny, and what bizarre cosmic joke caused his hair? And...ok, so he looked REALLY good in the "Gone" video, everyone looked good in that, even Chris looked good in that. But...I...dammit, Justin, get off my fucking list. >.<
:: at the tone, the time will be 8:53 PM ::
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