Somewhere in my seemingly endless colletion of papers, scrawled on an old password list, I scrawled the phrase "preaching to the inverted." On the other side, I had enthuasiastically written, "GRAB LIFE by the horns!"
I was so wild and crazy back then. Now I'm just eccentric or something. And Rigelkitty has a cute butt, don'tcha know?
So anyway... I've been thinking (oh no!) of making more public entries again. My journal, my rules. So I think the way this is going to play out is the stuff that's happening in my life is going to stay friends-only, and my personal opinion stuff is going to be public... because I've got a big mouth and I like to use it, sometimes when I've got something to say but mostly just when it involves biting the heads off marshmallow peeps and stuff. Rar.
In other news, I'm going to meet up with former employees from Hauptratte-Sperren tomorrow. My former boss asked if I'd bring along some of my pictures of "modern relics." Heh.
In light of the recent press coverage of furry fandom, I took the opportunity to update my furry page and add the article to it. I also typed in the Olympian article, since an actual text version of it wasn't online anywhere yet.
Oh, and the aloe vera gel worked. My hands are pretty good shape now.
Something Else To Do
The 24-Hour Comic. Like NaNoWriMo, but more insane.
Ponies Just Wanna Have Fun
It's Hump Day and I'm not having a Bad Hair Day.
Quick question: If people who haven't even met me don't like me because they got their facts wrong or didn't bother getting the whole story (or simply don't want to), do I really want to know them?1
I feel warm and fuzzy inside. I think I swallowed a tribble.
Another lazy weekend for Rigelkitty and I. Saturday we went shopping at various malls in our neverending quest for a coat rack and shoe rack. I compared it to a summer romance sex comedy; a movie I'd be the wacky Tom Green character and Rigel was the David Spade homosexual love interest and we were driving across country trying to find the perfect home accessories, except it was winter, we never left Loudoun County, and neither of us look like Tom Green or David Spade.
I dropped Rigel off at the comic book shop and wandered over to 7-11 to get munchies. I wandered around and eventually settled on a Vanilla Coke and big bag of Combos. While waiting in line to pay, I glanced out the window and noticed Rigel was done already and waiting my the car for me. Out of habit, I meowed at him---forgetting for the moment that he was outside and couldn't hear me. So the net effect of all that was people on line saw me meow for no apparent reason. Go me, I'm the crazy Tom Green character that meows.
We wandered around the Dulles Town Center mall looking for clothes for Rigel, while I got distracted by the incriminatingly-posed stuffed Bambi in KB Toys. I also saw a giant inflatable Eeyore plushie in the Disney Store, but it's $150 and I've got too many toys already.
While studying $150 price tag on the box, I overheard...
"Mommy, look, it's Jafar!" said a little girl in the store with her mother, pointing to a Jafar display.
"Yes, Honey, from Aladdin," said her mother.
"He's naked!" said the little girl. "He doesn't have any clothes..."
"Yes, well,..." said Mom.
I didn't get to hear how the rest of the conversation went, half because I was trying not to bust out laughing.
We grabbed some dinner in the food court and then headed off to Walmart for more clothes, coat rack, and shoe rack hunting. We found a bright day-glo orange shirt on clearance for $8, and got fashion advice from some friendly hunting guy who was also looking at the display. By this time every store we went to only had the same rinky-dink shoe racks and was generally devoid of coat racks. We headed off to K-Mart in Leesburg, which is closing soon so everything is 10-30% off. We didn't really expect to find any there either, but I did find an electric airpump and weird-looking 8' inflatable shark. Heh heh.
Rigel couldn't find any of the movies we wanted to see at Blockbuster, so (at my suggestion because we know what great movie choices I make) we rented Disappearance on DVD. It was a good movie... in an MST3K sort of way. In other words, it was a good bad movie. (I found out later it was actually a made-for-TV movie.)
The funny thing is, I liked it. It had a neat abandoned ghost town in it. The fictitious town of Weaver, Nevada... mysteriously abandoned in 1948. The Henley family driving across Nevada takes a detour to the town when their modern-ruins-hunting son (yaaaaaaaaay!!) wants to stop and take pictures of the place. This movie gives you the typical Gothic horror set-up (remote location, no ability to communicate with the outside world) and then proceeds to throw every bad horror movie cliche at you: investigating strange noises alone at night, splitting up to look for missing people, trying to go for help and ending up wandering in a circle, and so on. There's an Evil Something lurking around in the town, either a human or a dustcloud, we're never really sure.
Things get more confusing when the family finally escapes and goes to the sheriff for help. A prisoner in the jail cell clues the family in on what happened to the town of Weaver... it was a neutron bomb they were testing back in 1948, and the residents of Weaver didn't want to leave so they hid in the mine tunnels and ended up getting all mutated, plus the town was built on an ancient Indian burial ground so it's haunted by restless spirits, and also there's space aliens that landed there and the Men In Black covered it all up and it's really a big government conspiracy. I mean, why have one explanation for the town being a bad place to be when you can have three, right?
Indeed, they should flee the accursed town before the RADIOACTIVE MUTANT INDIAN SPIRITS FROM OUTER SPACE get them and... and... and do something horrible, oh just horrible!
Don't get me wrong, this was a bad movie, but is a bad movie that you can laugh at really a bad movie?
Anyway, after the Henleys find their son's missing friend (he apparently fell down a two-dimensional cartoon ravine) they drive down the highway and leave the accursed town behind. They would've gotten away if only they hadn't run over a wandering radioactive mutant Indian spirit from outer space that deliberately walked out in the road in front of them. So their SUV tumbles over and over in the desert, and surely now they'll have to face whatever Evil Thing it is that's been tormenting them all this time. What will it be? Devoured by hungry mutants? Ritual sacrifice? Room with a moose?
Well, it turns out the Evil Thing just wants the stepmom to work as a waitress in the local diner, the dad to sit on the bench out front watching car bumpers rust, the kids to play basketball and ride bikes, and all of them to spend the rest of their lives in the little desert town in the middle of nowhere. Truly, a horror beyond any other imaginable.
But first let me tell you a story about Edgar. Edgar worked in a toenail factory, that is, a factory that made toenails for mannequins or people who had a mannequin fetish or something. It was down by the river, burned down in 1938. Nice place for ruin hunting, but it's down by the river you know. Where the frogs are. Edgar was the foreman of the toenail factory, and he used to spend all his lunch breaks down by the river chasing the frogs. Well, one day, Edgar caught one of those frogs and brought it into the factory. It would be his new pet. He liked frogs, y'see. So every day at lunchtime he'd go down to the river, catch another frog, and put it in his office someplace secret. He was the foreman, y'see, and didn't want nobody to go catch him putting frogs in his office. So it went on for years, it did. Edgar caught more and more of those frogs. Then he started to diversify. He caught himself some billygoats and stray cats and pelicans and ostriches, and stuffed them in his desk and filing cabinet and pencil sharpener, and boy they made an awful ruckus. Soon people wondered what was going on in Edgar's office. They hadn't seen him for days. And when they opened the door they saw him in there, with a whole zoo. And the animals stampeded through the factory, and got all caught up in the machinery and caused all kinds of horrible mafunctions and then the mannequin toenail machines exploded and it was awful. But don't worry, thouse animals didn't get harmed, because they were made out of rubber. They were animated magical rubber frogs and billygoats and stray cats and pelicans and walruses that Edgar had imported all the way from Kansas. Folks will tell you, there ain't no walruses in Kansas, but they're lying, y'know. It's a conspiracy. They have plenty of walruses in Kansas. They have more walruses than people, I'll tell ya. I have photographs, after all. Edgar took me on one of his walrus hunting expeditions, once, back when we were in high school. That's me there, on the left. Of course we'd always let the walruses go after we caught 'em. We'd let 'em loose in the factory, yessir. We'd have races late at night after all the workers went home. I tell ya, you ain't lived until you ride around a factory with a friend on the back of a walrus. We used to paint them pretty colors and cover them in glitter and then bring them out on the town to the fanciest restaurants, and nobody would say nothing because Edgar, he was the foreman. What fun times we had, I tell ya. Me and Edgar, hanging out at the factory late at night. One evening, y'know, we were hanging out at the factory... this was after the disaster with all them rubber animals getting caught in the machinery, y'know, and Edgar he tells me he wishes he didn't have to work at the toenail factory, he really wanted to live a carefree life of just eating green eggs and ham with his favorite walrus. So I said sure, go ahead. So he left me in charge of the toenail factory, and that's how I got where I am today, y'know? Except it isn't a toenail factory anymore, because now it's all full of rubber animals and stuff. Some days, I wonder what ever became of Edgar. He was a nice guy, if a little strange. Some days I go wander down by the river and chase the frogs like he did, and wonder why they're made of rubber, and if I give them a kiss will they turn into a magic price of something. Then I'll go off to some faraway place where there aren't any toads of carniverous billygoats that eat your pants or perhaps some giant flying graham crackers. I could start my own band and call it Disco Dingo and the Gopher Heads or something. I'd be famouse and could buy all the damn walruses I want. And then, I'd set up a website. Walruses R Us. I'd sell walrus accessories like glitter and paint. And I'd have a secret lab where I'd build giant robotic walruses with lasers in their heads and all will do my bidding, ha ha ha, because I miss Edgar so much, y'know? Ah well. Maybe it's for the best Edgar left. Damn. Now I can't figure out what else to write and Rigel's knocking on the door and stuff. Hi. How ya doing, Kitty? A kitty likes Happy Tree Friends. Okay, where where we? Talking about my friend Edgar. Well, he wasn't really my friend toward the end, I suppose. He stole my favorite walrus and my entire valuable collection of vienna sausages and built a rocketship out of them or something. I dunno anymore. It's all confusing and stuff since Edgar left. Some days I think I'll run that website and sell walruses or maybe enchiladas shaped like walruses or have walrus wrestling matches or something. Or walrus porn and lots of it. Damn, but those walruses are sexy, and they can such the Eiffel Tower through a garden weasel or so I'm told. Y'know, if I told stories like this for NaNoWriMo people would rip their own eyeballs out so they wouldn't have to read them. If I put obscene walrus pictures up it'd be even better. Except for the people in Kansas. They'd like it. I'd have to drive out there and sign autographs and get a movie deal or Reality TV series on FOX. Who wants to marry a walrus? Anyway. I wonder where Edgar is now. Probably having wild hot weaty walrus sex in a dungeon full of walrus toys or something. Nick Mamatas would know, he's a writer type guy and would be able to track him down. Whatcha say Nick, can ya find me mah friend Edgar and his perverted walrus sex hideout? It'll be fun, don'tcha know? Well, that's it for me. The end.
The above is 1,022 words in 20 minutes with no editing except to add hyperlinks. Idea inspired by Pholph. It's four freewriting sessions strung together... Rigel interrupted me 3/4 of the way through to watch Happy Tree Friends. I was not drunk when I wrote this and no walruses were harmed in the making of this entry. With the exception of the link to Rigel's journal, I have no idea where any of the above hyperlinks go other than someplace that isn't here.2
***PAGE***>> In a page-pose to Rigel and you, Kagemushi stage-whispers, "Watch out for Rogue. He's handing out hearts. I don't know whose."
Filed under Valuable Perspective:
Random says, "After you answer my question, Xydexx, you can ask me anything you'd like."
Xydexx neighs, "If we could be all alone together up by your flame board, would you blow me up all nice and big and pop me with your kitty claws?"
It's hard to take my critics seriously when I'm trying to TS with them.
One might say that's not really a reasonable response—but if they're not being reasonable, why should I be?
On the other hand, maybe it's not a good idea. Some folks don't get my sense of humor and I'd prolly just end up having to deal with even more unreasonable people. Ask me about my boycott of Mu Press3.