| |
Friday, February 23, 2007
I am boredom, hear me ppppbbbbbbttttt.
Wind Whistler is intelligent and articulate, if a little reserved. She has a great thirst for knowledge, and devours books on sight. She seeks to understand the world about her, as she sometimes feels removed from her environment. It is a pity that the other ponies don't appreciate her hard work and accumulated knowledge as much as they should.
Quote: "Keeping the ball in play is a simple matter of potential energy meeting mass and being converted into kinetic energy."
Wind Whistler might find the other ponies appreciated her pretentious ass more if she'd get over herself and say "dude, just hit the ball!" like a normal person. Horse. Thingee.
:: at the tone, the time will be 11:32 AM ::
. . . . .
The cat is being a huge pest. It happens some mornings, she just stands in front of my mother's bedroom door and meows pathetically. If that doesn't work...scratching. And then I chase her with a water bottle. You'd think she'd put the two together, but you'd be wrong.
I had one of my fucked up dreams last night. I only really remember the end, which involved my room at the York house, and this weird bug-frog-mouse hybrid thing, and my mom coming in to ask me if I knew anyone with a Lamborghini, because one had just pulled into the driveway -- which I knew instantly that it was the best friend's new car, and that the car in question would be old and white and beat-up and lacking the niceties a car should have, like AC and a radio and possibly heat. I also very much did not want to tell her that it was the bestest's car, but luckily there was the bug-frog-mouse thing which was black and oily-looking and had a very long, snakelike, prehensile tongue, and was really freaking me the hell out. Mom just tsked at me and grabbed a tissue and picked it up -- and which point its TONGUE slithered out from under the tissue and WRAPPED AROUND HER WRIST -- and then handed me a pen and told me to stab it. Nevermind that I have no natural aiming skills, and the tissue was entirely blocking my view of both it and her hand so I had no idea of where to stab anyway, just here's a pen, I'll hold it, you kill it. Bleayurgh.
I was just as glad to wake up, really.
Oh! The sister set a wedding date - May 19, 1pm. Further details to come when they send out the invitations. Part of me wants to drag someone along to share in my gathering-induced misery, but odds are the bestest won't be able to get off, and I don't think I know anybody in Connecticut. One the upside? Last family wedding I will ever have to do to. Booyah!
:: at the tone, the time will be 9:43 AM ::
. . . . .
Thursday, February 22, 2007
My mother can't spell "awesome." This disturbs me somewhat.
However, my brain has actually let me in on actual, useful ideas, and I'm really too pleased to worry very much that she spells it like a 12-yr-old AOL retard.
I'm considering trying some of DH's saran, despite the fact that her math is faulty (.35 is not .5 more than .30. There is no universe in which this is so. Learn your decimals, and leeeaaaarn to aaaaaadd), and that I find her DH vs. RD arguments both unconvincing and smacking of desperation. My main motivating factors are that I can spend less at one time (even if I don't particularly believe the actual value is better), and that I seem to have developed a strange compulsion about buying the stuff. I waaaaants it, even if I don't currently have a project for it.
Slightly in my defense, I do actually have a project in mind for it. There are just other things I need to get for said project first. Or at least prepare. Or. Something.
:: at the tone, the time will be 10:42 AM ::
. . . . .
Friday, February 16, 2007
Wow. Blogger has really hardcore upped their asshole quotient with their not-really-Beta version. I guess technically its alpha, or something, since despite pretending to give you the option to log into the old version...you can't. It goes straight to the conversion set-up.
I am not someone who responds well to being forced to do things (seriously, if you ever want to insure that I do nothing at all, just tell me that I have to do one thing specifically). But at least ADMIT THAT YOU'RE FORCING ME TO DO IT. Asshats.
I really especially love how they now require you to store your FTP info with them, despite previously telling us that we shouldn't, particularly after that time they got hacked. Great. You fill me with confidence, Blogger.
Pretty much the only thing keeping me from melding this place with my LJ, is the 700+ posts I would have to go through to do it. AH. HA. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. MAKE THAT 970+ POSTS. *dies a lot*
:: at the tone, the time will be 9:52 AM ::
. . . . .
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Is it March, yet? Please? Because then the new Hollows novel would be here, and, oh, yes, it would not be fucking freezing.
I really wish I could sculpt. I know some people can do really awesome things with clay, but I am not one of them. Woe.
I know, practice makes perfect, or at least, less sucky, but I don't even really have the brain for it. Something about clay just makes me stare dumbly at it. I did sculpt a doll-sized lightsaber hilt once, but that has vanished into the ether, which really irks me. Aside from that my greatest accomplishment is the little disks on which little jewels will eventually sit to make Raven's belt. And that wasn't so much sculpting, as rolling it out thin and cutting circles with a straw.
You begin to see the true level of my non-skill, yes?
And of course, me being me, what I really really want to do is something that would require me to be really really good. Which...yeah, no.
And for the curious? Its Jensen Ackles' head, 1/6 scale. Yeah. Its okay that you're laughing. I'm laughing, too.
:: at the tone, the time will be 10:28 AM ::
. . . . .
Monday, February 05, 2007
Doing a minor clean-up of my bookmarks really just drives home the need to do a major one. But the thought of it makes my brain start to slide into a boredom coma, so we won't be holding our breath for that one.
Part of me wants to run some errands today. The rest of me just thinks about the snow on the ground and how cold it was yesterday just going out for the paper, and tells the first part it can go all by its fucking lonesome, thanks much.
The mother and I are currently on season 3 of Smallville. I was deeply tickled by the fact that Lex apparently gets clichedly gay when he goes off his rocker. Like, for whatever reason Michael Rosenbaum just kept sliding into girlish lisping during the big confrontation-with-Lionel/meltdown scene, and it was both surreal and utterly awesome. I love him a whole, whole lot.
I think I might sleep soon. My joints are getting achey, and that usually means I either need food or sleep. Should box up the item that guy bought from me first so it can go out today. Such fun.
:: at the tone, the time will be 7:10 AM ::
. . . . .
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Words cannot express how glad I am not to live in Texas. I'm glad not to be a middle schooler anywhere, really, but particularly in Texas. Its always people with dicks trying to enforce their stupidity on people without, too. Go find a new idiot drug for outies, and force it on your own kind. Schmuck.
In happier news, I am getting money! I traded in some points I earned doing surveys, and its not a lot of money, but its still money! That I didn't have before! WHEEEE!
Yes, I am a dork, thank you for noticing.
The bestest might come visit this week. She is making noise to that effect, anyways, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Things come up as often as not, so we shall simply have to see. Still, it'd be nice to see her, even if its only for a couple hours, or something.
*sighs* 6:30 is such a vile time to be up, it really is.
:: at the tone, the time will be 6:17 AM ::
. . . . .
|
){kind=link}