A Little Thing

A little thing can change everything. Today, I dressed just a tad differently. Ironed my pants, wore the Nice Sweater that I hate because of the way it's cut. I brushed my hair. I BRUSHED MY HAIR. People didn't necessarily freak out, mind you.  But I got a definite 'Holy crap you look so much better this way' vibe. 

I freaking hate people. 

Now I'm going to make this bonfire toffee, because I'm presenting tomorrow, and food always gets good marks. 

Bam!

Murphs

Uninspiring

I am a waste of oxygen. I have spent my whole weekend either sleeping or watching recorded Scrubs and eating cheetos with chopsticks. I am a terribly uninspiring human thing. There's so many things to be done, but I just feel exceptionally tired, and I suspect that after I finish this post, I will finish my Dew and go back to sleep. And then I will wake up tomorrow and still be tired. 

Get me some concentrated caffine; stat! 

Murphs

Bonfire Treacle

So while Steve is practically fondling his bunny slippers on my telly, I'm researching how to make bonfire toffee. It's British and traditionally served on Guy Fawkes Night. I'm making it for my project on Fawkes. People are always super-impressed when you serve foodens. Actually, I think they're all just piggies...fatties...pudgy, flabby, corpulent lard-os. I fear a Food Courtia effect will take place on Earth; like the Invader Zim episode?
Anybody who will give them food obviously did a good job, otherwise they wouldn't have time to make the food, right? Goes the process of thinking. Nom nom nom, goes the room. Blah, blah, blah goes my 'cast.
All three clues have been figured out! We just figured out Blue's clues, we just figured out Blues's clues, we just figured out Blues's clues 'cos we're really smart. Actually, it's just me.

Fearing a Great Foodening,
Murphs

Celebrations

All my parents want to talk about lately is that I'm almost sixteen and how excited they are that they won't have to chauffeur me everywhere and I'll be able to get a job and apparently all sorts of things. Another certain friend appears to be excited about my semi-legality.
I'm rather depressed about the whole matter. It's still a fair way away, isn't it? I don't even want to celebrate this year. That's not supposed to happen for another twenty years or so, right?
I wish I could Blue-skidoo back to when I was five. The world was far less complicated and I didn't really care about foreign diplomacy or learning Japanese or whether or not Cthulhu would end man's reign over the world.
Kiddies are way more receptive and impressionable when they're five. There's a chance the fae would still take me then! I hate being this old. Ned didn't even believe me when I told him how old I was earlier this month.

DAMMIT BLUE, WHERE ARE YOU?!
Murphs

It's all wrong...

I think I tell my blog more than I tell my friends. They should all read it and comment instead of talking to me. You know how I can tell? Well...
Recently, I've become slightly obsessed with reliving my lost childhood (No, seriously. I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when I was, like... seven. I lived to be the best in skool. No childhood, whatsoever.). As a result, I've been watching Blue's Clues a lot lately. WHY DON'T THE YOUNGLINGS REALISE WHAT WE'RE PUTTING ON THEIR TELLY? In this past episode--I'm not even done with it yet--I've seen cannabalism, whores and what I only take as a pedobestiality relationship. How did this show last ten seasons!? THE SALT AND PEPPER TALK TO YOU. THE FRUITS HAVE FACES. Kiwis don't say 'kiwi.' Kiwis are generally silent and you have to scoop out the inside. Salt and pepper don't have other spice children and they certainly don't have what appear to be French accents. Shovels and pails shouldn't both be male; pails are clearly female. And that side-table will open her drawer for anybody. His soap is sentient and is named Slippery Soap. Of all the names, why that?!
And there is clearly something wrong with the relationship between Blue and Steve. Why d'you s'pose Blue tries to keep us around as much as possible with her little clues and is always hiding from Steve? The man wears khaki all the time. I don't trust people who wear khaki all the time.
In the case of pedobestiality, do you call the ASPCA, PETA, or Social Services?
Blue is hiding from the graphic things fan-fiction people do to her: *Shudder*

Weirded out that my spellchecker is okay with pedobestiality,
Murphs.

Seriously. There's no red line. Three times in this post, and no red lines under any of them.

Contemplative

Man, I hate Mondays. You probably think you hate Mondays too, but I detest Mondays, I loathe Mondays, I abhor Mondays. Mondays are the bane of my existence. I'm more of a Friday person, only because I can't get the hang of Thursday (+42 Hitchhiker points!!).
So I get to spend all day on the School Blog; d'you all still remember where it is? I'm going to find three articles on Baggy Pants Laws.

ChaCha!
Murphs

Bored Out of My Wits

And that means you all get a blog. Actually, I'm just waiting for my last episode of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog to finish loading. Slow internet, eh what. I think it's quite funny. Plus it has Felicia Day in it, and if you don't know who she is, I suggest hopping onto Google to find out about some of her other projects she's worked on like the video-podcast The Guild and a billion other projects. She's one to look up to if you're into acting.
And now for something completely different! I finally got a Netflix that I have been waiting for longer than I've been blogging. You can probably see it's bee a while. Two years, as a matter of fact. DAMN YOU SLOW TRANSLATORS. DAMN YOU TO HELL. Yay! Death Note's live action film is nearly everything I had so hoped, but with the added bonus of figuring out that I like subtitled films in strange languages more than our own. It's got the added bonus of thinking OMG, I just understood that! to your already superb film-viewing experience. On the other hand, I feel that they could have done a better job with just a little time. Oh well. Now all that is left for me to do is wait for the second part (which I already saw in Japan) The Last Name. Damn Japan trip showing me things I can't understand like Death Note and Professor Layton.
Yeah, have I mentioned I'm a rabid Layton fan? I am. I got to see an actual copy of the new one in Japan, but I knew I wouldn't be able to understand a word. I have to wait until Winter (which is probably for the best, as I need to get appropriate monies).

Wonder about the Legend of Neil...
Murphs.

I can stop whenever I want.

I'm in a short story contest on Gaia that's finally begun. I have until the twenty-second to complete a thousand-word story. That would typically be a breeze for me... so why can't I get it right?!
I dunno, maybe I'm all paranoid because somebody I don't know is going to be reading it. And this story... It feels like somebody else is writing it and using my keyboard. Haha... A ghost-writer has taken over my body. Ooooooh *spooky noises* ghost writing! My, that's funny. I wonder how many of you will get that.
Not enough.

Sockingly yours,
Murphs

Hello everybody, I'd like you to meet a personal hero of mine, who I look to for guidance in time of crisis. You've probably only heard passing mentions of him, probably in conjunction with the film V for Vendetta. For the record, I have viewed this man with marvel and reverence. This, my friends, is the original suicidal terrorist.
Ladies, gentlemen, members of the jury. Meet Guy (Guido) Fawkes, who on November fifth 1605, attempted to blow up the Parliament building. That takes guts. The PARLIAMENT building. Why don't I just go ahead and say it'd be like making a break at the Capitol Building for all of us American idiots.
The poor man was caught and hung, unfortunately, and the Parliament building never had it's day with the powder, but how much of a bang would something like that give, anyway?
You may be thinking to yourself, 'Why the hell are you bringing this up now?' Well, when I'm in the doldrums and need a project, I fix this by clicking on the Random Article button on Wikipedia until I find something interesting. It's Wiki-surfing. White people like it. I don't know if there's a post yet about Wiki-surfing. There should be. I expect Ned does it when he's bored, and there appears to be an awful lot of 'Stuff White People Like' that Ned does too. Speaking of which, NED. GET YOUR OWN BLOG SO I CAN LINK TO IT. I DON'T THINK ANYBODY ELSE KNOWS WHO I'M TALKING TO. That's okay, though. Nobody else reads this, either.

Fawke You All,
Murphs.

Nefarious Shenanigans.

If I go corn-free for a month, Ned will give me 'Heath and Fitness' credits. We all know this as PE, and I hate PE. I can totally do this. (Not really. I'm going to crack my first week.)
But anyway, Ned's new seminar is about the election/John Adams. It's both. There's an HBO drama about the man's life that Ned got on DVD, so now at least an hour of my day is spent watching the life and times of John Adams. FUN. I won't bore you, though.
I'm trying to think of anything fun I've gone recently, but nothing comes to mind. My parents are uber-pissed at me right now for reasons I can only interpret from rabid-parent as 'You don't ever talk to us.' Maybe they should try my blog; I can't seem to leave this poor, over-worked blog alone.
But I have a shit-tonne of stuff to do tonight, so I won't get the sleep I deserve or want. I'll probably get none tonight, to be honest. Probably have to work, too. Saving up for a trip to New Zealand (maybe to check out colleges?)

Ask ChaCha a question, maybe I'll be answering,
Murphs.

PS: DJ was getting over-used.

Moths

I just listened to The Fable of the Moth by Steven Beagle. (Thank you, PodCastle) Maaaaan, I feel insignificant. This is almost worse than the time I couldn't stop listening to Garbage Day (Russell L. Burt). Remember, people, don't go hit your head against lamps. It sucks to be a moth, I s'pose. Freaking moths. Eating my wool sweater that I hated anyway. Itchy Scottish wool sweaters.
I can't ever wear man-skirts, Kibawls. The only man-skirts I know are itchy. Urgh.
In other news, Scott Sigler's sequel to Infected is due out in December, and that's when he's going to start podcasting it. W00t. You have no idea how much I am looking forward to Contaigous. No idea.
Actually, it seems like the podcasting communittee is ASPLODING with book publications. Mur Lafferty's Playing for Keeps, the Future Dark Overlord's books in general, and finally the Ask-A-Ninja ninja's The Ninja's Handbook: This Book Looks Forward To Killing You Soon. I want to purchase this last book, and intend to as soon as my paycheck goes through.

I Am Yours Truly,
DJ

Ribbon

I can't figure out how to get my ribbon in properly. Dammit. On another dammit-type note, my parents want me to attend the church youth group again. I think we have the same argument about this every single time.

Me: I hate it there, I don't have anything in common with them.
Parent: Well, maybe maybe if you talked to them, you'd find something to talk about.
Me: I don't agree with them on any point any of them has made.
Parent: Say so, and maybe they'll learn something new.
Me: I think I've told them all of my points before and they're just as annoying now as then.
Parent: Well maybe you should listen to them more! All you ever do is talk and never listen.

This is usually the point where I give up, because I already see hypocritical points here. Same conversation every time. Drives me mad. Couldn't they at least try for a new argument?

Apparently hypocritically yours,
DJ

Work

I got a job. A job-job. For reals. I work for ChaCha. I answer the strange, silly questions people text. There are some strange ones. Yup... people are weird.
Googlingly yours,
DJ

Typewriter

Kibbles gave me a typewriter. All I can say to that is thus: OH MAI GAWD THANK YOU KIBBLES. It's probably a million years old and weighs nearly that much. I'm surprised my desk isn't cracking. I need to purchase a ribbon though, so I can type actual words.Did you know that the Qwerty keyboards were designed to be purposely inefficient so that keys wouldn't stick together?
I realise now why old desks are so fricking sturdy though. They'd have to be, to lift one of these beasts.

Inefficiently yours,
DJ

Burmuda?

RLA has already sunk into Doldrums for me. I have lost the ability to focus on anything I'm supposed to be thinking about. I'm going to stick up a sign that says that.

'Welcome to the Doldrums. You have now lost the ability to focus on any'

My god, I'm witty, right?

Tropically yours,
DJ

Props

You know, I thought about not signing into Myspace tonight (this morning?) because I was really bored and was going to try sleeping again. GOOD GOD I AM SO GLAD I SIGNED IN. I have seen the future, and I know where I will be, come April Fool's Day, 2009. I will be waiting in line at a cinema in my Ganny cosplay that I have yet to finish. If I am lucky, other Zelda 'tards will be in costume too. If I am extrodinarily lucky, somebody I know will be with me. I am being very vague when I say that, because I just want somebody who will dress up like Link. I would look silly standing in line as Wind Waker Ganny and have no Link at my side.

I'm joking, of course. The advert for what would appear to be an earth-shattering film is nothing but a well-played out April's Fool jest. But I'm not joking about my Ganny cosplay. I'm going to look amazing.
On the other hand, there is an indie-flick version of Ocarina of Time in the works here.
Well-played, IGN. Well played. You almost had me, but then Link had brown hair and the Sheikah was not tan enough. Also, there is no way they wouldn't make Ganny way prettier than that.
Your faithful Hyrulian 'tardo,
DJ

Modding

I've found my purpose in life. I want to modify computers and game consoles. Seriously. My god, have you seen what some people have done?
That is a computer, not a microwave. Well, it was a microwave in a former life, but no more! ...I totally want one just like it. The person who built this is my new idol.
Now, while these people probably don't have lives, that's just fine, because neither do I. I have the time to do these things, you know. I might have the skills, too... What's to stop me from find out?! I shall venture into unknown worlds and make sure that I have the coolest electronics evah. Not just ever, people. Evah.
I must take the first step. I am going to steam-punkify my Gamecube (mostly 'cos I'm not afraid of high costs if I bust it).
Founderingly yours,
DJ

I have only this to say: I freakin' love Japanese-based fantasy. See; The Snow Woman's Daughter, Eugie Foster. Fwa-bam.
Ohaio gozaimas,
DJ

Two for One

I know, I'm assaulting you with bloggage tonight. Two in one night! I mean, sometimes I give you one waaaay early in the morning and then another at night, but whew, two on the same night? Apparently I forgot to tell you something and remembered it. Was that an obvious enough hint for what is to come?
Yes, well, this is more like a warning for any RLA kids who read this thing... does anybody except Ned check my blog anymore? Actually, I suppose it doesn't matter if I ask, 'cos it's like saying, 'If you're not here, please raise your hand.' And that works every time.
Anyways. The Warning. Yes, I remembered it despite the half-rant I'd just started. I have a shit-tonne of books I have to pile through. (By the by, a shit-tonne is like an American shit-ton, which is approximately two thousand shit-loads.) And library books have deadlines! I must read these all by the eighteenth, so leave me alone until then.
Actually, I think it should be generally accepted that everybody leave me alone until December first. You see, I have to finish my shit-tonne of book and the currently unnamed ballad of the tinker and the drow before November. And the entirety of November shall be devoted to the final version of Mariposa's tale, which is what I'll be doing for National Write a Novel Month.
Yes, my head is going to asplode with words this Autumn.
Postally yours,
DJ
PS: Asplode: Verb, to self-combust or become structurally compromised in a most likely spontaneous manner.

Meh.

I have risen from my camp-recovery sleep. I bet you all missed me, right? Right? Not really, I suppose. None of you are any fun. What are you doing reading my blog anyway? Get a life, while you still can! It's too late for me... but you can still live...
Imma go back to sleep.
Dreamily yours,
DJ