Archive for August, 2007

We’re talking about “saddest country songs” over at MCB.   Since the only country songs I know are Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton I’m out of the running pretty early.

But then someone brought up Dan Fogelberg’s Same Old Lang Syne, which got me to thinking.

Isn’t that essentially the same song as Harry Chapin’s “Taxi”?  With beer instead of pot, of course.

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But this Wiki cracks me up.

It’s not that I don’t believe a person can become addicted to World of Warcraft. I’ve lived a long life as a gamer, and know full well how they can suck you in. It’s just that this is so, well…here. Let me show you:

Find out what has caused your addiction. What makes World of Warcraft (WoW for short) so appealing to you? Is it the fact that it has different continents that you will never go to? Is it the fighting? Is it your unique role as a tank or a mage? Is it the happiness of ‘pwning noobs’? Whatever it is, try to minimize this happiness in WoW, and make it a pleasure that you could also get in every day life.

Unfortunately they fail to give advice for how to ‘pwn noobs’ in real life, although I’m sure there are ways. All I know is that I want to see someone actually yell out “PWNED!!!!” to a stranger in the supermarket or at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

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I’m reading the best book I’ve read in a long time.

I hesitate to say that, because as soon as I start talking about how much I love this book it will turn to suck. I’m about 193 pages into it, however, and so I think it’s safe to say that at least the first 193 pages sing true in a way I haven’t experienced since Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell.

My only problem with this one is it seems to be yet another “Faith Vs. Reason” deal where Faith comes out looking like a rutting hog next to Reason in her shining locks and satin gown. Of course, there’s really no cause to write a Faith Vs. Reason book where Faith comes out ahead, since the platonic ideal was well-accomplished by John Irving more than a decade ago. (Seriously, if you haven’t read A Prayer For Owen Meany, please drop whatever you’re reading now and dive into that book.)

Anyway, back to this book I’m reading now. It’s called The Last Witchfinder, and is probably selling fairly well on the coattails of Harry Potter, even though it has about as much in common with those books as it does with Highlights Magazine.

For starters, this is a book narrated by another book–the principle action unfolds though the wry wit of Isaac Newton’s Principia Mathematica. How can you NOT love something riddled with that conceit?   The rest of the story is smart, funny, and unique, and all written in a beautiful tone with poetic prose.    Not to spoil it too much, but there is one scene where Hooke poses as Newton and cusses out an entire town with some of the most wonderful profanities I’ve ever seen.    With language like that I do wonder why we’ve limited ourselves to the f-bomb as our most turgid curse, when there are phrases like (take the children into the other room) “twattwaddles” and “pudpounders” just laying out there discarded.

And come on! Who doesn’t want to read a book where Hooke poses as Newton?  That and that alone should intrigue you.

I do own this copy, so as soon as I’m done we can pass it around.  Maybe this time it will end better than that poor Grey’s Anatomy DVD.  (Again, I do apologise for forcing so many of you to get into that show right before it started sucking louder than a thirsty baby on a dry teat.)

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I love all of you. Okay, maybe not all. But most, anyway.

And I love the events where we all come out of our Fortresses of Introversion and do the whole “I want to talk to you, but I’d rather do so over the computer” thing. Because we always have such a good time. It’s like you WANT to be shy and then you remember you’ve heard all about this one’s surgical procedure and that one’s embarrassing date and Grace’s, er, activities. So what do you REALLY have to be embarrassed about, right?

But I’m sorry. I could not go to the picnic today. I had a good reason, in that medical science has now proved I am part vampire. Or one of those creepy children from that Nicole Kidman movie where they’re all dead but they don’t know it yet. Whichever–I can’t be in the sun for very long.

Oh, and I really don’t like picnics. They make me feel awkward, because there is no food there which isn’t either messy or vaguely phallic. And then there are bugs. It all just makes me want to go inside and read a book.

I was feeling really bad about missing today’s festivities. Because I like you all enough to brave ants and bean stains on my boobs. And then I found out about the kickball.



Next time why not bring clown ventriloquists and Mrs. Miller, my 8th grade typing teacher? Then it would be a perfect re-enactment of Kat’s Own Personal Nightmares Of Hell.

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Target had a new “body wash” on sale.  (I don’t think they make hard soap anymore, which should make Billy Joel’s Vietnam Veteran from “Goodnight Saigon” very happy.)

I brought home two bottles of this Olay Body Wash because it smells FANTASTIC and it was buy one, get one free.   I generally ignore the rest of the sales copy on my soap because it’s usually just romancing to a silly degree.   There are no actual ‘luxurious silk ribbons’ and normal humans don’t have sexual climaxes from washing their hair.

I should have paid closer attention, because “contains luminous skin brighteners” does mean something.   It means that I am covered from head to toe in glitter.  I feel like a human disco ball.

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to bring you the single best LOLcat EVER. In the history of LOLcats.dude-smell-this.jpg

Hat Tip: Marc, via Twitter. (Marc is my official LOLCat filter. Thank you, Marc.)

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