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Permalink Gotta take Legend of Legaia back tomorrow/today. I’ve had it like, three weeks. -_-;;
But…I’m almost at the end!! Of course, I’ve thought that about four times now. “Ok, so this is the last place, and I gotta go thru here and fight this guy, and its over, right? …..wait, he’s dead and its not ending. I have to do what now??”
Its weird, tho, cause it seems abnormally short for an RPG, but at the same time, its freakishly long for a single disc. *cries* I want to own it and beat and fucking throw it out the window already!!!
Ano…Melly-poo? We need togetherness. Come online now so I can badger you into picking my aging license-less ass up!!!
sounds like aqua, “cartoon heroes”
Permalink Watched Girl, Interrupted with my dad last night. I’d seen it before, but it had been a good while. I’d forgotten how much cursing was in it. Normally, I don’t really care, as I myself curse, and sometimes I curse a LOT. But I’d been watching Pitch Black right before Girl came on, and that had oh, maybe an eighth of the cursing Girl did. People were dying left and right, but everyone sounded intelligent, and rarely cursed. Girl had very little death, but they just would not stop with the fuckings. It just wearying, and in Winona Ryder’s case, it really seemed like she was saying it because she thought she should. Blyeh. Now I remember why I didn’t like the movie. ¬_¬
Anyway. My dad actually came in about half-way through the flick, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but it was funny, cause he thought Angelina Jolie’s character (or, as he called her, “the girl with the stringy hair”) seemed the sanest of the bunch….and was, therefore, the most mental. *grins* Sometimes, I really love the way my dad thinks.
sounds like n’sync, “the star-spangled banner”
Permalink I, ah, I appear to be mildly obsessed with Lance Bass. And no, re-reading that sentence will not make the name change. Nor will it make it make more sense, nor will it magically become a joke. And yes, I am going to hell, but we already knew that.
I’ve always been kind of entranced by him, on account of his head being plastic and all, and there is something undeniably fey about the man. What can I say, I like guys who make you stare at them for a minute, then turn to your best friend and go, “…..is he gay?”
Altho to be perfectly honest, I think my real reaction, back when Nsync first started being everywhere, was something closer to “…..is it me, or is he plastic? And possibly gay.” And well, there wasn’t actually anyone in the room.
But, anyway. The frightening five were on Leno tonight, and yes I was bored enough to watch it. Lance was wearing the most hideous pants, and for some reason he seems unable to shave under his chin, but he managed to find shirts that actually went with his pants, and at least he wasn’t walking around with a giant flower on his back, unlike someone else in the group….yeah, alright, so I can’t actually tell Chris and Joey apart. Except that Chris is marginally more mutastic. I think.
So, ah, I pretty much sat in stupefied awe at the reaction these brats got just by walking, or speaking. Or occasionally just breathing. I thought it was cool that their entire fan section cooed when the Smooshed-Headed One said he loved Britney. I wasn’t expecting teeny-boppers to be supportive of girlfriends who weren’t them. And it was oddly educational in a pop-culture sort of way. And I think I want to be JC, cause he’s adorable, and entertaining, and gets to sit near Lance, and I swear you can almost hear the wind whistling thru his ears.
I think what made me go from vaguely entranced to mildly obsessed, tho, was the fact that Lance didn’t say a thing during the whole interview. He just kind of sat behind JC and watched everyone else talk. He raised his hand when Jay asked if any of them were single, tho, like he was twelve or something. And when they were asked who lies the most…the others all volunteered him. And still he didn’t say a word, just raised an eyebrow and allowed his face to be skooshed for a close-up with this “what the hell did I do” expression. For some reason, that was just incredibly endearing to me.
And my god, those pants were hideous…..
sounds like andras jones, “superlame”
Permalink So, I stayed up all night doing pretty much nothing, which I find very therapeutic. And then around 4am, I caught the “Weapon of Choice” video, which I love, as Chris Walken is both scary and cool, and he displays them both very well in that vid. Also, Fatboy Slim rocks.
After that, I felt almost cheerful, and I decided to try and help that feeling along, as it is a rare visitor to me, and one that tends to drastically under-stay its welcome. So I threw some TGIFriday’s potato skins in the oven, ripped open another Coke, and dug out my Letters ‘zine (still the best TPM fic ever written, thank you very much).
I think I finally passed out around seven, and when I woke up….my dad had turned on the AC. *glances around furtively* I think the world’s going to end. But that’s okay. I’ve got Meggy on the ICQ, cool air flowing, and plenty of Obi/Qui WAFF…dosed heavily with angst, danger, and h/c. And if heaven doesn’t allow slash and wicked digi-goth Snuzzy Nugs, that’s okay. I always figured I was going to hell, anyways. ^_^
Permalink So, my mom’s leaving for a genealogy convention this afternoon.
She’ll be gone a week.
So its just me….the cat…and my dad.
I can’t leave, because my father will neither feed the cat nor empty its box.
But I don’t want to be here.
I want to be away, and crying, and very much away.
I just…I don’t want to be alone with my demon.
Permalink Why is it, Lou-chan’s partially incoherent feedback made more sense to me than my mom’s articulate response? o.O;
*bounces* I wanna work on Ewanness!!
…………..I miss Amelia.
Permalink Its cold in this room.
I’m not emailing this shithead for Mom anymore. She does not pay me enough to compensate for the stress and frustration. I’m not even going to read his two latest emails, she can do that, too. I refuse to undo the goodness done by my chiropractor this afternoon, I just refuse.
Besides, I kind of feel like crying, anyway. Don’t need that shit.
I kind of feel like working on something, but like….I don’t feel like doing anything by myself. Welcome to my idiocy.
sounds like travis, “turn”
Permalink I’m shaking. I’m honest to fucking god shaking. This piece of cerebral spunk has me fucking shaking. Do you have any idea how mad I have to be to physically shake?! I…oooooooooh, let me kill him. Or let someone else kill him, I don’t care, just have him fucking die, because he’s not contributing to the world in any way, he can’t possibly, and be this fucking retarded.
No. I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. That was fucking cruel and insulting to retards.
For every email I send him, I get roughly four back. They babble in different ways, doing little more than to prove that he’s an idiot who was only able to graduate because his teachers couldn’t fucking stand the thought of having him in their class one goddamned second longer, and nearly all of them ask for the total and address to send payment to. Which I gave him, in very clear terms, more than once. And judging from his emails, he is, quite miraculously, getting ALL of my emails EXCEPT the ones containing the info. HOW DOES THAT MOTHERFUCKING HAPPEN?!?!?
What’s that, Georgie? It DOESN’T, you say? Well, aren’t you the bright lad! Here, here’s a rusty, razor-blade covered dildo. Go fuck him in the ear with it. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt him, but it will make you feel all warm and happy inside.
Good god, I’m fucking insane. He’s driven me completely fucking postal. And the best part? Oooh, the very best, ass-puss, diarrhea-slut BEST part is…he’s now getting all superior and indignant to me. He has no concept of spelling or grammar, he can’t keep track of info or his emails, and I’m really starting to think he’s a motherfucking liar, and HE is putting on the offended party act. Why? Because I’m threatening his “perfect feedback” record. Fuck you, little man, eBay takes a commission based on the winning bid for an item, so yes, if we don’t get our thrice-damned money, you bet your ass we’re reporting you as a non-paying bidder, and oh fuck yes, you will be seeing some negative feedback, and you won’t even be able to complain to them, because I will trash your credibility and I will put it in prettiest, purplest prose you have ever seen and every single word will be spelled CORRECTLY, because I, little man, am a pissed-off writing major. Slurp shit and die.
But, OH! Lookee here! You’re all snotty because I’m not writing back the very second you email me, with the information that I already gave you, but which you somehow managed not to receive. I’m sorry, was I supposed to respond to one email four separate times in the same day, each time giving lame-ass excuses and asking for something that already been given to me? Oh, here. Let me inform you, a THIRD time, and oh, look. I managed to be both indignant and polite at the same time….and gosh! Is that proper spelling? And grammar? And good god, I’m actually using sentence structure and *gasp* punctuation! Heavens! Whatever will I fucking think of next?
Permalink Amazon has free shipping now when you buy two or more items.
Amazon has a number of items that Catt-chan is interested in.
Catt-chan has been stressed and depressed lately.
Catt-chan often buys things when she is stressed and depressed.
Catt-chan is broke, and would like to be a good girl and not spend her mother’s money.
Amazon has free shipping now when you buy two or more items.
Catt-chan is in hell.
Permalink So. Had to download a new(er?) version of IE because the other day my main email decided it no longer liked Netscape. Have I mentioned that I despise IE? Have I mentioned that the incessant clicking sound it makes every time you ask it to do something makes me want to saw open my wrists with a Crayola marker? No? Funny, I could’ve sworn we’d discussed that.
Moving along. The reason I needed to get to my email, and thus was forced to upgrade my copy of the devil’s testicles, is eBay. I had to see if the person who’d bought my El Hazard tape had emailed me. Or if one of the mental gimps who’d won my mom’s auctions had gotten back to me. And of course, the really smart one, the one who can’t spell little words like “quick” and apparently can’t read either, has emailed me three times. Not in response to my last email, but to the one before last. Which he had already responded to four times. Twice I have given him the total, the accepted forms of payment, and the address to which to send it. TWICE. With clearly labeled subject lines. And do you know what he’s asking?
That’s right, boys and girls. For me to send him the total and the address.
I’m not sure what to set on fire first…my head, or his dick.
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