monkeypoo

Whatever bastard told me i could access my Oceanic World of Warcraft account in China no problem is so gonna get kicked in the googlies. Many times. Goooooglies!!!

Somewhere around the middle of summer semester Fluffy went to doggy heaven. For days afterward, the doggy door would incessantly smack against the back door, and send little Winner into an agitated fit until we followed him out to discover that, inevitably, Fluffy wasn't outside after all. Until we got the big poo dog's ashes home, this kept happening and the days were filled with hairballs of choking misery. After he came back home, the door stopped knocking.

 

Every so often now, I find the odd Fluffy hair on an old shirt, in the back seat. The little ones have been eating quite well though, it's still hard for me to figure out how much dog food to heat up for dinner, sans big poo dog.

 

A couple of weeks after that, my grandmother died, without pomp or ceremony, in her sleep. It pains me that I barely remember her other than her daily admonition that Red Chambers taught young girls bad moral values. But, oddly, I don't miss her enough for tears.

 

I am almost Karazhan attuned, to the delight of my 60-70 in two days guild, whatever that means in the scheme of things.

Today, and probably tomorrow and the day after that, and so on and so forth, I need the following three things:

 

1 A real job - no more shift work, random days and random hours and random people, not enough pay

 

2 A real book to read - less game theory texts, crummy mgazines, something with a flavour, that I can much from beginning to end, and not want it to end.

 

3. A more manageable hairdo - so that it doesn't go flat when I'm feeling down.

 

(4. Gold. Muchos muchos gold.)

The Burning Crusade arrives on Monday. XD XD XD XD

Got Horde?

I have no more New Years Resolutions left to break. The first breach came only a couple of hours after the fireworks, sitting like a mashed potato, albeit a pretty one, in some random bar with pulsing red and purple lights. With a posse of man-boys around me, all of varying addictions, I feel prettier when my eyelashes are not my own.

 

Daylight, and I am conscious that my jaw is too clenched, my eyes to wide, palms too sweaty for work, for mothers and aunties and the checkout chick. Which is why no one likes daylight. No one I know anyway. We are night people, or at the least, twilight/predawn.

 

Without a photographic record, the passage of my dancing lights and cotton candy coloured nights are marked by the stains on my dresses, and the blisters on my foot. Forever, I smell like a cheap pool parlour. Hence, the perfume. And hence, the mosquito bites.

 

Peace to you all. Have a safe and happy new year.

I gots a Wii and a Rayman and I gots myself lots of rabbids.

Wii party after new years, pst/mail/msg if you are interested.

Other titles on include Zelda, Monkey Ball, Splinter Cell and hopefully, Happy Feet.

WoW is down tonight... I forgot it was Tuesday, and had been looking forward to a long night of healing smashy kudos after a long day of hollow shit work at shit joke of a monkey job. So...

 

Last night, I had an uncomfortable night dreaming that I part of a covert eco-terrorist operation, fueled by jelly cups and ice cream. I'm too straight laced to find even eco-terrorism, if even refuelling a bus with olive oil can be called that in a dream, comfortable.

 

A lovely girl at work has given me a recipe for pizza dough that I will try out soon as I have the time to. My last experiment in pizza dough tended toward the biscuit end of the baking spectrum, and largely unchewable.

 

Fingers crossed that my Wii order will go through sooner so I can start spending more time away from WoW.

 

I'm not looking for a real job. Don't ask me about looking for a real job, please. I've spent all my life doing what the middle road expected I'd do, now, I'm going to do whatever I want to do. Mainly, not getting a real job.

 

For a while anyway.

 

The road less taken may be not me after all. I'm just really just the type to be looking for a path of least resistance, where possible.

 

/Pr0n* kicks the mango.

nuff sed.

go die now.

coffee's a little burnt, sour. you know black nail polish is back in, so is nautical, in fact the whole bloody eighties is back in, everything, even pre-george michael and pre-op wacko jacko, though obviously he wasn't wacko jacko back then, and my friend back in grade two, oh gawd what was her name, we use to do everything together, i can't believe i can't remember her name, she was in love with michael, she said, were you ever in love with him? bit on the skinny side i always thought. anyhow i knew she really had it in for cy, me too, i was so jealous when she got a seat next to cy in class, half the girls in the class use to go over to their table to borrow textas, so funny now that you think about it. been really unwell this last week, not too sure what is wrong, everything is painful and horrible and wanted to chuck my guts out the whole weekend, probably ate like three full meals since wednesday, every time i start eating i wanna puke it out again so i stop. so hungry. what kinda mouse you use? ball? balls are cool but they get too dirty. stupid laser mouse is completely spasticated, it just goes everywhere. the sink's flooded again, you know. farrkng everywhere. school is pretty shite though, except for multimedia, where i made a spasticated dancing rabbit. i wanna study animation. really, maybe i should have gone the artsy pathway after all. but back then i loved to write shit, now i don't, and i wanna wear stripes and prance around to billie jean and cut up coloured paper and stick the pieces all over my wall. oh shit gotta run, blasted always running late. kthanksbye.

there's is always someone here. it was fine all the way through the holidays, but now that i am almost halfway through semester, its really getting on my nerves. i don't have time for this. some days i really don't think he gives a flying shit about me, the things i want and the things i need to do. things i need to be done on time. everyday is just the same for him. most days he doesn't even know what day of the week it is. i ask, remind, beg and plead. until i get so impatient i start yelling, then he asks me why i'm always yelling. i don't know. i just want him to do the things he says he'll do, nothing more. four weeks since my computer has been down and he hasn't even bothered to do anything, even though he promised he would, and he has been doing nothing at all in the mean time. finally vish twiddled with it for something like 15 minutes and i have a computer again. fifteen minutes he couldn't spare of his time doing absolutely shit all. i'm so tired all the time from all the crap. i'm not sure if i can stay here anymore. i'm just so, so tired. the timing, god, the timing. it's never been right, ever since the beginning. i feel like he is perpetually three years or fifteen minutes late.