"I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no one judges me."
"I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no one judges me."
I Start Fires! |
2002-05-15
Piggy's specs were nicked at: 12:03 p.m.
Edit, 4:30 PM: "An Cat Dubh" is me, "Olan" is Aspect, and Sciribe runs #megaman and the #megaman information page ...
[An_Cat_Dubh] Red is fun
[Sciribe] ok
[Olan] Pfft, sure, ask her ;P
[Sciribe] what color do you want aspy?
[Olan] .... ... ... ... magenta.
[Sciribe] ok
[An_Cat_Dubh] FAG
[Olan] FUCK YOU CANNUCK ;_;
Here's your daily dose of irony. I spent all night at a sleep clinic, and I'm so tired, I may pass out on this here keyboard and embed my forehead with a scrambled alphabet. And I slept pretty well at the place, except I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my neck while dozing. I went back to work last Saturday and was reunited with my love, Washroom Patrol. I noticed a letter posted on the lunchroom board: "We cannot close down washrooms during maintenance, but it's required that you politely allow customers to use whichever sink, toilet, or urinal they want." If the notice wasn't behind a locked glass case, I would scribble a host of frolicking purple dragons and green dwarves all over the bloody fairy tale. If I wasn't an agressive bitch, the washrooms could never be restocked, and then the shrieky she-weasel who tries to bite me would just complain that "the washrooms are such a mess!" and I'd get my arse stewed and fried anyway. But it's not so bad. At least I worked with my favourite supervisor, Frank and my friend Agnes, and we took extended breaks in the manager's (Mike) office... Agnes says to Frank, "Frank, you never wished me a Happy Mother's Day." Says Frank: "Why should I? You're not my mother." But he opens up Mike's cabinet and takes out a 20 dollar beer mug. "Here, Happy Mother's Day!" He throws the mug at Agnes, who drops it. Sound of glass shattering. "Oh, now Mike's gonna be pissed!" Frank says when Agnes opens the box and revealed the wreck of a mug. "Maybe Mike can glue it back together." "Here." Frank takes the box back and whacks it against the desk before he puts it back in the drawer. "Now he can't. I'm sorry I ruined your Mother's Day present, Agnes. Here!" he takes a CD from Mike's desk. "Have Mike's CD instead! Dont' drop it!" Which he does, and steps on it for good measure. I think Frank is sick of his job. I bought a book for my trip to the Sleep Clinic, called Blood Trail. It's about a family of werewolves based near Toronto and I thought, "Awesome, what could be cooler!" The excecution, apparently. The concept is indeed pretty cool, but then again, I'm a sucker for stories/animes/etc. involving anything that turns fuzzy by the light of the full moon. But Blood Trail ... eh. I knew something was amiss when the book declared in regards to the main character, "like most Canadians, hockey was her first love, but like most Torontonians, baseball was a definate second." I checked the book's publication date. 1992. A rosier era, surely. This is my curse. I love stories about vampires and werewolves, but I so rarely find one that doesn't involve gothic "life is a neverending pit of despair" morals. I'm also not interested in vampire hunters. How I'm a huge fan of Castlevania I'll never know. Blood Trail isn't necessarily goth. There's a darkness surrounding it. It's not pitch, but it fills your mouth and stifles you with cliche lines and situations. Someone's killing off a pack of werewolves in southern Ontario. I skipped ahead, found out it was one misguided Christian fanatic and one evil Christian fanatic. I decided that was all for Blood Trail. Maybe I'm not being very fair. I don't like detective mysteries either. So I'm going to skank out and say, read it yourself and come to your own judgements, because it's certainly not a horrible book. Just not to my tastes, ha ha. But I desperately want to write something about vampires and/or werewolves that isn't in the style of cyberpunk, Castlevania, or ... snore ... Anne Rice. My favourite vampire story comes from Preacher, where Irish vampire Cassidy encounters one of his own kind, a "wanker" who's convinced that he has to wear the cape, black pants, and white frilly shirt because he has a role to fill. He even has red contacts and a leathery harem of poetry-purring goths who worship him for obvious reasons. Cassidy gradually beats the stupidity out of the guy, re-introduces him to society, and even drags the guy (Eccadius) into a church. Eccadius is squirming in fear at the sight of the huge Cross on the opposite wall, and Cassidy asks what's wrong. "We're ... we're on holy ground! We'll be killed stone dead!" "What, yer scared of that thing up there just 'cuz some bollocks got nailed to one two thousand years ago? Let me ask you something, Y'ever get a steak through the heart?" "No." "Hurts like hell. Ever eat garlic?" "No." "It's delicious. Ever try to jump off your roof and turn into a bat? Or ride a moonbeam as a cloud of mist?" "I tried that bat thing once ... broke both my fucking legs." Yes yes, I'm going to see a midnight showing of Attack of the Clones. Who wants to touch me? No one. That's no big surprise.
Beast from Water | Beast from Air |