10 X Ten

Happy 10/10/10!

Here's a boq. (I've asked (and answered) these questions before, but, they're apt for today's date.)
You can answer in the comments, or if you'd like to make this viral, you can answer it on your own blog, I just ask that you link back to me.

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 seconds?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 minutes?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 hours?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 days?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 weeks?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 months?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself in 10 years?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself (or humanity) in 10 decades?</b>

<b>Where do you see yourself (or humanity) in 10 centuries?</b>

and finally...

<b>Make a Top 10 List.</b>

September went by pretty quickly, didn't it?

Of course, now that tomorrow is October (!!!), the rest of the year will slip into fast forward. Especially with all the events coming up this month. There's thee Renaissance Faire on the 8th, as well as payday.
And that Sunday is 10/10/10...which ...while very cool, I don't know what I'll do to celebrate. Probably just be all, "Cool. Today is 10-10-10!"
And then there's the 22nd. We'll see how that goes.
And of course, Halloween at month's end. And, hey, cool! This year it's on a Sunday, so I will actually have it off from both jobs. Hooray!

And now, the word cloud from September:

Visibility was poor, and he'd been speeding - just a little - and it was raining cats and dogs, and yeah, he'd had a few too many drinks before leaving the bar, so in all fairness, the accident was his fault. But it was still also the Freak's fault for being in the road in the first place.

At least, that was the justification Alexander used to help him feel better.

If he'd not been intoxicated, though, he probably would have called the police, and things would have turned out much differently. Perhaps the Freak would have been saved, and that would have made a world of difference, because then - most likely - there wouldn't have been the Retaliation, which resulted in so many deaths.

Sometimes Alexander was kept awake by these thoughts and the guilt that came along with them.

Knowing that, inadvertently, he'd been the cause of unimaginable suffering... it could weigh on a guy's conscious.

Mostly, though, he felt rage toward the Freaks. Nobody asked the original Freak to show up in the first place. Nobody asked him to stick around, fighting crime and saving lives and being all heroic. And certainly nobody asked him to be in the middle of the road that night.

But he had been.

And, so it was that Alexander Luthor had hit Superman with hsi car, critically injuring him.

Alexander felt another pang of anger - at Superman - when he thought about it some more. What kind of superhero is able to be killed by a speeding car? Wouldn't it have made more sense if, instead, his car had been crunched, and the Freak had walked - or flown - away unscathed? THat's how the comics and movies had always depicted his abilities.

But as it turned out, the comics and movies got it wrong. In plenty of ways. There was no Kryptonite - the Freaks could be killed by the same means as humans - they just had super-strength, and could fly. Also, "Superman" - the original Freak - was not the last of his kind. Something Earth learned the hard way once Superman's death made the news.

Pick a song

So, you're driving along, listening to the radio, and scanning the presets. You hear three tunes - which do you choose to listen to?

A) "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by the Smashing Pumpkins

B) "Kiss Me Deadly" by Lita Ford

C) "Sober" by Tool

Your friends don't dance.

I've had that song stuck in my head all day.


Also I'm not P@. I'm Saren. again. Because I started this blog and I'M GONNA END IT.

I'm sure that's a line from some movie. Somewhere. I say this because quoting movies makes you cool.

Okay so. Dad walked out and asked me to blog for him so I wanted this to be all creative and stuff and not like when I was blogging for him just to put in a filler. I guess I still am though, putting in a filler. but. but.

no butts.

Haiku Review: The Fourth Kind

Aliens? God? Hoax?
It's up to you to decide.
(But it's aliens.)

Except that it's not.
Because the "footage" was fake,
to make more drama.

Fake money stories

Warning: Not that interesting!

I only have a few stories involving counterfeit money that I can recall. here they are!

About (my god!) 15 years ago, a friend of mine's mom worked in a casino. At one point during her shift, she received a counterfeit 100 dollar bill. Somehow or other, she ended up giving it to my friend and let her spend it. yay for moms with wacked out moral compasses!

About a year ago, I had a 20 dollar bill in my possession that was fake. (I didn't know it at the time) When I went to spend it at Taco Bell (of course!), the cashier informed me that it was a counterfeit bill - and then attempted to give it back to me. Haa! I told him I didn't want it (and coincidentally, when I was being trained at the sev about fake money, I was told that if any come my way, I'm supposed to hold on to them). The guy did give me the meal, though (but not the change. So, even though it was only 15 or 16 dollars, it cost us 20. Or nothing, if you want to look at it another way).

And about a week ago I went through the McDonald's drivethru with a coworker, and attempted to pay with 100 Grand. They didn't accept that, but at least it made the cashier smile.

borrowing Soupy's thunder

I'm not stealing it, see. I'm just borrowing it, I guess.

Soupytwist has been blogging about art all this month. (Or maybe it's Art. Probably both.)
Anyway. She has talked about movies and television and books, but one thing that she hasn't mentioned (that I've seen) is video games.

So. Can video games be art? I would argue that they can be, if movies are, since video games are just movies that are controlled by individuals.

But, then, if video games are art...what about board games? Or card games? Or just any game at all - is freeze tag performance art? Or is it simply fun?

And what constitutes a game, anyway? You can make a game out of anything if you try hard enough (it's sometimes the only way to make time pass in a bearable fashion "Let's see how many people buy Marlboros this hour.") so...I'm not sure what my point is, other than I've been awakr for waaaay too long, and so I'm pretty exhausted at this point.

I'll bet she does

Funniest line from a political commercial:

"I'm Sharon Angle, and I approve this mess--"

Heh. I know that it was unintentional and that it was just the last half second being cut off, but it made me chuckle. Now, if only the other 29.5 seconds of the spot could be cut off as well...

100 days and MANTIS

2010 only has 100 days left in it! Crazy. And, actually, since this day is more or less over now, it's 99.

Our Mantis (Steph blogged about it here - way back in July!) has grown to a disturbingly large size now. I'm not sure how big it is, exactly, but it's much bigger than it was all those months ago when it first appeared on our screen door.
In fact, until a few weeks ago, I was pretty certain that it was going to be stuck there because the gap to get out was way too thin for it to fit through.

However, I saw it squeeze itself out of the crack about 3 weeks ago (in order to catch another insect that made the mistake of crawling nearby - which was awesome and scary) ...and then it squeezed back in. Heh. It totally thinks of the screen door as it's home.

But if it gets much larger... well, my joke right now is that it will probably eat the turtles first. And then the cats. So, we'd have time to get away before it goes after us.
Although I've not seen the turtles for a few days now....

Don't worry! Bill Murray!

(Today is Bill Murray's birthday. And whenever he comes up, that line from that song gets stuck in my head. So, thank you Mr. Murray, and also, Mr. Cicierega.)

And to help make this more interactive - what is your favorite Bill Murray movie and/or quote or story?

In lieu of a real entry (I've been sitting at the keyboard for over seven minutes now, staring at a blank screen, tyring to think of *something* to write), I'm just going to find a random youtube song, and link to that.

Why? Because it's what we do. (and because I've been listening to that album today.)

In an alternate universe, where sheep have superstrength (provided through their wool) and have been domesticated by humans and raised into intelligent weaponry....someone has uttered the line, "You sheared my battlesheep."

But I don't think that particular sentence has ever been said in *this* universe. Until now.

Work makes me grumpy

Well, lots of things makes me grumpy. But working certainly tops the list. And having to deal with obnoxious individuals. Seriously, there shouldn't be 10 commandments, there should be one. And it would be thus: "Dude. Don't be a dick."

It's not a tough one to follow, is it? I don't think that it is, but obviously there's something tough about it, because a good portion of the population can't seem to obey it.

Eh. Whatever. I'm home now, and no work tomorrow, and I've got great kids and a day to enjoy them with. So there's good things to balance out all negative. :)

Here's Irina!

uencie
hwwxjw2wkwuew2u3 xu2yerji2
vcibuyw


And then she said, "That's all." I'm glad I have children who will assist me in my blogging related goals. :)

If all goes well tomorrow, I'll get back to Goat's tail. I mean tale. If not, then most certainly Sunday.

The Goatest story ever told

Billy was 9 when the Supreme Creator of the Universe first spoke to him directly.

He was at a petting zoo, when he heard the voice behind him. "Billy."

Young Billy turned to see who had spoken. His father was watching off in the distance, along with several approaching families, but this voice had come from the opposite direction.

One of the goats looked at Billy with it's bizarre square-shaped pupils and opened it's mouth. "Hey there," it said.

Billy was surprised to hear a goat speaking, but handled it pretty well. He screamed in absolute terror, and ran toward his father. Goat ran after him (as goats generally do) saying, "Billy. Stop making a scene. I have something important to tell you."

Needless to say, this did not make Billy calmer. His father had already jumped into the petting zoo's fenced-in area, and was running to scoop up his horrified child.
Goat sighed. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this the Old Testament way. Humans are so stubborn." Goat then butted Billy in the butt, knocking him down. Billy had the wind knocked out of him. An eternity seemed to pass as Billy's mind processed everything that had recently happened:

A goat spoke to me. And then chased me. And then rammed it's head into my butt and oh my god, I can't breathe!

And then Billy took a huge breath inward, and cried like he hadn't since he was a little baby. All he wanted was to be back home where there weren't goats that talked and he wasn't being assaulted by barnyard animals.

And now it's nearly 11pm, and tomorrow is a 15 hour work day, so I'll have to work on/finish this story later.

Things are about to get real

Heh. Lame joke. It's Reality TV night! Survivor premieres in about 20 minutes (as long as the digital reception stays ...receptionable?), and it's the finale of America's Not Talented! Who will win? LOG? Hatboy? Someone more deserving? We'll find out...unless I fall asleep first.

But, Survivor!! We totally had pizza tonight, too, in honor of it. Yay for traditions. Oh, also, we have decided as a family that Jeff Probst is probably a Twilight-type vampire. I mean, he never ages, and he's handsome and sparkly in the sunshine. ...it makes sense. (we're very nerdy)

And lastly, big thanks to  Saren for blogging for me while I slept.

Dad hasn't blogged yet.

It's almost tomorrow and The P@ hasn't blogged today. So I figured (actually, debated with myself for about an hour) that I'd post for him. I figure if he really doesn't want this post then he can delete it.

Anyway, so that you forget that he almost didn't blog today, here is a kitten, because no one can be angry at kittens.

unless said kitten peed on your floor.

By the way, Dad, if you'd rather not have this post just delete it. I'm sorry for blogging for you.

Cross Canada off the list

If there is any truth the dream I had last night, Canada is not a place to live. Well, I mean, if you're a cat. Because, apparently, in Canada there are spiders the size of a dinner plate, and they exist on a cat-only diet. Still creepy, though.

Oh, and you have to knock on any door that you enter, even ones in your own house.

Those crazy Canucks.