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Diaryland

I Start Fires!

Lexiroth
Her Rainess
Lizsama
'Cedez
Moonie
Pipey
Timofsky
Motro
Squeeky
Lady Maverick
DM
Shoisies
Chokie

2002-07-08

Piggy's specs were nicked at: 10:36 p.m.

[Zaphkiel] I just said that. Moron.

[Ignacius] you didn't say it with ENOUGH LOVE

[Zaphkiel] YOU DON'T LOVE ME WITH ENOUGH KOVE.

[Zaphkiel] ... LOVE.

[Ignacius] ... KOVE!?

[Zaphkiel] Shut up, I hate you. :(

* Zaphkiel burns off Ignacius's hair. :(

* Ignacius burns off Zaph's pubic hair. :(

Tommorow I gots an appointment with my old knee surgeon since my knee SUCKS. The knee dude is an okay guy. Cute accent, not bad looking, but I'm hesitant to go back to him.

See, I had my knee worked on once, a year and a half ago. And there I was, sitting all prepped in a surgical gown et all. The anesthesiologist already talked to me, along with the nurse, and I was one step away from the table. Surgery dude walks in, says hello, lifts up my gown (yow!) and marks, with a pen, what knee he was going to be working on that afternoon.

At any rate, if he comes after me tommorow with a syringe full of cortizone and tries to jab it in my knee joint again, I'm going to strip him naked and fry his balls.

David could be making a fortune right now. Citizens in Toronto are paying damn big money for people to pick up their garbage and drive it to designated dumps, since the cockgobbling unionized cocksucking garbagecockmen are blocking the dumps with their cocksucking picket cock lines. But David doesn't want maggots crawling around the inside of Little Bandit, and I guess I can't blame him. But I do so hate to watch the opportunity pass by. Especially since we have absolutely nothing in the way of money 'till Thursday. No, I mean it. We're pretty damn broke. :D Flatter than my chest in grade three.

As I mentioned on Lexy's guestbook, "My freelancing career is off to a flying start!--with my first rejection letter."

Apparently, the magazine doesn't have room for my story. Like, ever. So I shrugged and sent the story to a magazine that pays more. Ha ha ha! Rejection isn't as harsh as I thought it'd be. My father's life lessons are finally seeping into my head.

I found the famous Magic Kingdom for Sale -- Sold! at a Goodwill, and I picked it up for two caribou disks. It was very, uh...there, I guess. Not a bad book, but not astounding. I was expecting something fun and funny, along the lines of Prachett. I was waiting for humour at every turn of the page. It never came, unless the tiresome quibbling between Abernathy and Questor counts for something, but all those two did was give me acid flashbacks of Devon and Cornwall from Quest for Camelot.

I had two major problems with the book:

1) The descriptions.

2) Everything about Ben Holiday.

Brooks uses the same descriptions over and fucking over. How many times was I going to read about Strabo the dragon's "crusted" head? Or the ailing landscape of Landover having a "wintry" look?

And nothing kills an enjoyable story like learning to hate the main characters. Ben Holiday, shut the hell up with your god damned cliches. Nothing out of Ben Holiday's mouth preceeds anything I'd already heard before I was 12. And everytime something takes Ben by surprise he gasps, "Oh, my God!" Some call this character recognition. I call it a pain in the butt to read and stomach.

But, uh, besides that it's not so bad. If you can pick it up for fifty cents like I did, by all means. I might grab the follow-up books, if someone can promise me that Ben gets his head crushed or at least learns to not be an ass barnacle.

No hard feelings towards you, Mr. Brooks. You have a lovely universe. Just have more fun with it.