The World's Oldest Profession.

This isn't a very work safe entry, especially where it comes to the links, so be forewarned.

I was surfing an imageboard last night when I noticed dozens of people enganged in a thread about... A Sailor Moon Wallscroll.

Sort of odd for an argument, so I opened the entire thread. It turns out that thats not just a wallscroll for sale, but two girls. Two girls who are acutioning a date with the both of them, where you can take pictures, chat, discuss costumes, ect, ect. Except, several people on the imageboard knew the girls for having done this before, and dinner and a date wasn't all that was included in the package deal.

In a sort of horrific curiosity I went to visit their website which is mostly about cosplaying and modeling pictures they've both taken. In a good deal of the pictures the girls are... underdressed, and in that state it's quite easy to see that they really need to eat more. I'm not sure which part bothered me more, that someone a year younger than me was selling herself and a friend (I assume) for the paltry sum of $354.99 (any sum is wrong, in my mind), or the fact that this girl, only a year younger than me almost stands to my height and weighs... 40 pounds less than me.

Granted, sometimes I think I'm fat and I gripe about it the same way other girls do, but when I say she weighs 40 pounds less than me I mean it with horror and revulsion. A few more pounds gone and she'll quit looking cute and start looking like a skeleton dipped in wax, hipbones no longer sharply defined but protruding, arms like sticks, face gaunt.

This bothers more than the rest, I think.

I didn't realize this till I flipped back to her page, but we share a birthdate.

How to Overthink Things

Dragons are pretty cool. All of them. But today I'm referring to the classic European kind, the ones hunted by Knights for the rescuing of Fair Maidens. That kind.

And I was thinking earlier, about a plot for a (maybe) short story about a Dragon and someone who might need rescuing (or so other people think) from him.

And it got me thinking, what exactly do Dragons want with Princesses (or Fair Maidens) anyway?

I'm trying to remember what story (if any specific one exists) I'm wanting to reference for this... But you know the general idea, don't you? The Dragon shows up, sometimes demands a sacrifice to appease his hunger, and some pretty local girl winds up chained to a post in the woods. Sometimes there's no demand, it's just that the Dragon has been eating your sheep and the girl is supposed to be a bribe, I guess. (That seems counterintuitive to me, but that could be because I grew up in Florida and when you live there you're instructed NOT to feed the Alligators, because then they learn to associate people with food, and when Alligators get big this is a serious problem). Now, if the Dragon (and there's two kinds in my mind) is a big dumb vicious animal, you're teaching it that "food can be found right here, easily" since the girl can't run, and now you're encouraging it to hang about. If the Dragon is smart (and likely talks, since the two traits run together often) you're still giving it free food and encouraging it to turn to menacing villagers as a way to get fed, and to hang about in hopes of more maidenly offerings.

Usually, there's a Knight in this kind of story and this is where he comes in. Now that the Princess has been staked out, and the Dragon has come for her it's the Knight's job to go save her...

Save her from what? If they're going to eat them (which I think we're supposed to assume they want to) why don't they just eat them there, at the stake? She's not going anywhere, and she's holding still, so the dragon could just cook her or eat her, pretty easily, but when the Knight goes to save the girl, she's always back at the Dragon's Lair.

Which is where this gets weird. At least for me. I mean, if he's gonna eat her, he might as well have already done it, right? So what is he bringing her back to his Lair for? Does he need her to use her small, human arms to reach something he can't get to? Is he making her clean his Lair for him? Is there some weird Dragon etiquette about only eating Maidens inside the Lair? Whats going on?

I'm not sure, at this point. It just seems really weird.

The best I could come up with, is that Dragons are probably reptilian, and that they can't produce their own body heat (which sounds hokey when combined with breathing fire). Now, if you've ever been to the pet store, you've seen those miniature electric blankets that you can get for your reptile pet's cages...And once your pet iguana lays on that thing, he's not moving. Ever. I had a friend who had one and the iguana just stayed there, forever, basking. I'm thinking, the Dragon kidnaps the Princess, not to eat her, but as a source of warmth. Maybe he has a nest, and he puts the Princess in there, like she's an electric blanket.

Of course, the first time he rolls over in his sleep he's gonna need a new Princess, which explains the Dragon going back to where he got the first one, and the repetitive sacrifices that draw the Knight's attention.

Rereading

Oh god. I'm rereading part of that previous Nanowrimo Novel, from 2004. It's archaic! The writing...it's...wow. *cringe*

At least all the period clothing is right. "Surcoat" is such an awesome word, don't you think? Surcoat, surcoat, surcoat. Surcoat!!

And I quote:

"Besides, without the mask he had given to them that night by the fire the whole ventrue would have been impossible."

Right. I've been a White Wolf fan too long.

Taking a break...

Well, I've been working on "For the Glory of Rome" since November 2006, and I think I'm finally getting to a point where the characters want to take a break, or I want to take a break, but basically we've been stalled at the same place for a few weeks now, and despite the fact that I've had the Dedication to Mars scene written for about a month I just can't get the characters to hurry up and get there... And there's so much else to do before the story is over.

On top of that Rourke and Shula came to visit and pestered me, since I never finished the sequel to their first book, which was also my first Nanowrimo. Had to go dig out my rough draft of the book to find the art a friend of mine did... Here's Rourke and Shula, from one of the final scenes in the book, and here's the prerequisite Fantasy Map. If you're wondering about his ears and feet, Rourke is actually a WereHyena. And the High King.

Bento gets the grill!

We bought a new set of phones for the house about a month ago, and when I finally got around to setting them up we found out there was only one phone in the box (of the two there should have been), so finally we took the phone back for more phones. At Brandsmart USA, which, if you've never been there and have epilepcy, don't go.

Every time I go there, I think the inside of the building must be what epilepcy hell must look like.

So, exchange the phones and wander around. I needed a new cd player for my bathroom, since my (at least) ten year old boombox finally decided it quit. Found one, then wandered around some more.

Found a George Foreman Grill, for $12.88. And since Cliff says it's so awesome, I bought one.

(After that, and going to Home Depot for bark chips, we went out to Johnnie Maccracken's Celtic Firehouse Pub for dinner, where we narrowly escaped the clutches of an older man who reminded me of the guy from "Highway to Heaven")

I tried the tinfoil thing when I got home, so I wouldn't have to clean the grill, but like the over excited idiot I am, I turned the grill on first, then went to find the tinfoil. Due to my hasty tinfoiling, I had to clean a portion of the grill that was the size of a postage stamp, but thats pretty ok in my books.

And thus, we have grilled chicken, and grilled onions. Yum yum yum.

They're for lunch tomorrow.

the rant of friendship

Pride is a sin, so we are told. Sometimes, sure. Too much, too little, either way I can see it as a sin. But other times, I find it to be the core of what makes us human, what makes us who we are, that allows us to look ourselves in the mirror, and get up in the morning.

We are, I think, when you come down to it the sum of our lives. We are who we are raised to be, the society we were raised in, the people we wanted to grow up like, the people we did not want to grow up like. We learn from everything we go through, everything we suffer for, everything we sob for, yearning, bleeding, crying, reaching, even what comes easy; these are thinks that make us up. Pride is made up out of the worst moments in our lives and how we dealt with them. It is made out of the best moments of our lives too.

I take pride in myself for a great many things; crying on the bus, for instance. I was one of those kids who were mercilessly picked on up until High School. I'm proud that I never took that experience, and turned it, so that I could become a bully and build myself up that cruel way.

I am also proud, that when it came down to it, when I was in danger, I fought back. There is nothing in life that washes away a horrible nightmare, but what does come close is knowing that you didn't start hysterically sobbing when it became important to take action in a now or never, Jack Bauer-esque sense.

And I am proud, that when I need help, when I am in the depths of inner turmoil, and nothing seems like it is ever going to be right again, that I have friends to turn to and family to lean upon. Nothing can go wrong in my life, that between us, we can't fix. Nothing.

And I want others to feel this way. To be happy with who they are, and what stands they've made in their lives, the good times and the bad, the worst moments; perhaps there is no way to make them right or better, but there is a way to say that I did what I had to so that I could look at myself in the mirror and respect me.

Sometimes forgiveness is wrong. I think sometimes, if you let someone say sorry and you say I forgive you, this is taken as carte blanche to do more wrong. I don't mean this in a “I ate the last Hot Pocket” way. I mean the big stuff. I see families on the news, at the final hearing for some person who killed their daughter and they get up there and forgive the murderer. And theres some crying, and everyone is sorry, and the bad man goes off to die.

I cannot imagine, that if someone killed someone I know and love, that I could forgive this person. I can't. No amount of forgiveness is going to replace my friend. No amount of apology is going to bring them back. And no amount of either is going to make what that person did acceptable. There's no explanation. No reason. And if you forgive them, in that odd modern sense of moving on, aren't you tarnishing your friend's memory? Saying, I'll say these magic words, and let go, and then my life will return to normal, because then I won't hate you for what you took from me. In some situations, forgiveness turns into something ugly thats seems more like “I'll let this slide” rather than a word of cleansing and renewal.

Mom thinks I'm bitter. She says I'm pessimistic. And that one day, maybe I'll be the one cheating, and then how am I going to feel about my sense of pride and the words I've been speaking.

And I tell her I won't. I won't ever be that person.

She scoffs.

And she's wrong. I won't. You know why?

I have a sense of pride. I know my worth, I know who I am, and I know what I'll do.

And when you read this you-know-who-you-are I want you to think. Not bad thoughts, or angry ones, or even sad ones. I want you to weigh all of this up; the anger, the fear, the suffering, and you decide how much you're worth to you. How much you have to put up with. How much you're not getting back. And how things are not going anywhere. I want you to think about old wrongs, and new ones, and I want you to do what you have to do.

And I want you to know, that I am always here for you, that I will listen to whatever you say, and that even if you aren't angry I am, and that I will always stand up with you. I will always take your side, I will always care about you, and that there is never any need for you to suffer over something without halving the problem with me.

Got it?

A dish served cold.

Gentle Readers, the opportunity for revenge fell into my lap today, neat as you please.

While I was getting ready for school this morning, the phone wouldn't stop ringing. Thinking it was a telemarketer I let it ring, and gave it no mind, until I checked my cell phone as I was about to leave for class...

My mother had called no less than three times. I called her back. Probably, she had left her curling iron off, and was sure it was on, and wanted me to check. This happens fairly often, you see.

Instead, she was crying when she answered the phone.

She had gotten into a car accident.

She needed me to come pick her up, she cried to me.

I looked at the clock; class started in less than twenty minutes. Petty, I know. Or I think I know. Is it petty to still be seething about my own car accident, and her refusal to come wait with me, because, after all "what could she do?"? I already called AAA, my friend's family was coming to me, the police were there, and Cliff would soon be there (though I didn't know that when she refused).

Is it petty? I'm not sure.

Twenty minutes to class though.

She was coming down Chastain, the same road that hosted my car accident, and someone pulled out from that small road behind the Walgreen's. The car in front of her, a SUV, braked hard and came to a full stop. Needless to say, my mother did not. The front of her Mercedes is folded up like an accordion, one of the headlight covers is shattered, and the front bumper is a little dented. It's all surface damage, and the wheels appear alright, unlike on my car when the accident was over.

And you know what I did?

Can you guess?

I called my Professor to let him know I'd be late, and went and picked her up.

Food Once More

Well, in a blog that was origionally meant to be about my packed lunches, the topic of food finally returns.

I had the best breakfast yesterday morning. Big bowl of Strawberries and Cream oatmeal, thick as peanut butter. Nice hot cup of tea, with extra Cinnamon and Vanilla. It's Celestial Seasoning's Madagascar Vanilla Red, and it has a Lion on the front. Man, is it good. It's the only tea I drink.

Next, I planned to have a picture of this sweet Waffle House food I had last night, and an interview with the short order cook who made it for me, Mike. But I haven't got the picture of the food at the moment, and I think without it the interview would be really confusing. Maybe. Maybe not. I've got the picture on my cellphone, and I think most of my readers (Sorry everyone else- I'll get the picture up here soon!) are around me, and can ask to see it.

Anyway, here's the Human Interest Story:

Mike, of Waffle House.

Mike is twenty-seven and a very, very nice guy. He's funny too. He works at the Waffle House on Wade Green Road, and can be found there most often after midnight, since he works the graveyard shift. Now, what makes Mike totally awesome is the fact that despite the soul-grinding waitstaff job that he has, he's still funny, and jolly, and nice to talk to. Also, he provides more entertainment than a Waffle House should be able to contain... Because Mike performs many actions upon command, right next to your booth! He dances! He juggles eggs! He performs magic tricks! He even knows all the words to all the Waffle House songs on the Juke Box!

And last night, I ordered the plate with eggs and hashbrowns and toast and sausage, and because I asked, he made the whole thing into a smiley face. (insert picture here)

So, thats why you should go to the Waffle House on Wade Green road. Go to see Mike. Go to see him dance, and perform! Go to see him craft your food into something happy and excited to be eaten! Go eat that really, really good pie that they have, the chocolate one!

Next, has anyone else seen the previews for the "Hoax" movie? I don't know about you, but that puts me in the mind of doing something... Amusing. I think I'm going to interview someone really famous. In my blog. Heh. Heh heh.

And... I had to add this in here, it's pretty much the coolest picture I've seen on the image boards in weeks... It's Leonidas of 300 fighting Kratos of the God of War video games.

PS: Does anyone know anything about the legality of having a fake interview with a real Famous Person that you admit is a fake interview?

Hi! (again)

Guten Tag, Berlin! (Is it snowing there? And hows the Chocolate?)

And Hello, Melbourne! (Keep an eye out for those box jellies, and remember to swim in your pantyhose- jellyfish are nothing to mess around with, believe me I know!) (Also, you guys have the best meat pies)

My Cat's Got Knees

This song makes me wish I had a cat so bad.

Being that I have a dog, I'm not sure how many noses and tails she has, or if they add to the same things. Cats probably have different math, you know.

And if you don't laugh at that video...I guess you don't have a pet or anything. Because pet owners really do stuff like this.

I've got five Picture Albums full of Bailey. And thats just the pictures we put in albums.

Man of the Hour

Last night I watched Henry Fitzroy fight evil with Vicki Nelson on Blood Ties.

Then I went downstairs to get a glass of milk, only to see Henry Fitzroy get born on The Tudors.

Small world, evidently.

I wonder if he's going to run for President this next election...