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Monday, May 7th, 2012
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1:50 am
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My coworker opened the door to her car and I caught a glimpse of the back seat.
I blinked.
“It's full of heads,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, “Do you want one? I'm not using the boy anymore. I tried to shave the bat symbol into his hair but it didn't work.”
“...sure.”
So now I have an extra head. I can't decide whether to name him Bruce after Bruce Banner or Marcel after my cat.
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| Friday, April 6th, 2012
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4:08 pm
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It's a little hard to type with all these frogs on the table. Not real frogs. Real frogs probably would've hopped away by now. Plastic frogs are worse at jumping, but better at occupying static units of space.
And, okay, it not just the frogs – there's also the tofu cake. I'm not sure why my roommate decided to make a cake out of tofu when she doesn't live with any vegans. Maybe she just saw all the tofu in the fridge and was struck with an IMPULSE like those guys who climbed Mount Everest “because it was there.” The tofu in the fridge Was There. But now it's not There anymore; it's in a cake on the counter and nobody eats it because it's made of tofu and also because the cats have probably stepped on it by now.
But anyway, frogs. I love April first. It is the second-best holiday of all time.
This year I was primed for disappointment because I got my allotment of awesome (see previous post) out of the way early and then I had to work all day and also I didn't have time to burn anything, which is what I usually do at the start of April.
So I wasn't expecting anything special when I stepped into the back room for lunch, but then I saw the plastic frog on the floor outside my locker.
I looked around.
There was another plastic frog perched on top of my computer.
Huh.
It looked almost as though the frogs were leading somewhere. Like... like to my backpack.
I approached cautiously and unzipped my bag.
And it was FULL OF FROGS.
So I did the reasonable thing. When customers got up to use the bathroom, I snuck over to their jackets and filled the pockets with frogs. I sanitized a few frogs and put them on the clean dish pile. Dropped a frog with a load of tips in the safe.
And now the rest of the frogs are here, waiting.
I'll find jobs for all of them eventually.
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| Monday, April 2nd, 2012
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2:02 am
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There are a lot of tiny air bubbles just under the surface of my skin. They crackle when I poke them. It's kinda creepy, but it also makes me feel like I'd be good at protecting packages during air transit.
April 1st is a good time for doing things that sound like bad ideas or that make me uncomfortable. This wasn't my first flesh hook suspension, but I was much more nervous this time because of the circumstances.
See, my first suspension happened in a secluded field outside. I got to hang from a tree. I did cartwheels and found tiny toads and my girlfriend came with me and I met a friendly lady with pink hair and a gigantic dog made of enthusiasm and saliva. It was the perfect atmosphere for flying.
I knew this time would be different – I went to a middle-of-the-night suspension party in the city, packed with sweaty people and cigarettes and music that went GGRRRR AAAAAARRRRGHHH AAAAAAHHHHH GRRRRRR.
At least I got to hide behind Misha.
Misha has magnets implanted in his fingers and he braids his beard into tentacles and reads fantasy novels and I'm glad he's my friend.
He's the only friend who understands this aspect of my life.
I wish more comforting nerd people got really into stabbing. Then I could go to stab-gatherings where everyone drinks tea instead of smoking cigarettes and we could listen to floaty songs about mermaids drowning people instead of the AAAAAHHHHH AAAAAAAH GRRRRR music.
Ah well. At least the people in the Madison stab-community seem nice, even if I don't know how to interact with them. My regular piercer, Marcus, is the most kind and trustworthy satanist I've ever met. Here are some pictures of him hauling me off the ground:
( Pictures )
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| Tuesday, March 13th, 2012
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3:27 am
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If you follow me on facebook, you probably already know about the phone call I made to Babe Lincoln yesterday. It went like this:
"Hi, is this [Babe Lincoln]? Great. Great! Hi. This is Lex. Okay, um, is your toilet paper single or double ply?"
Turns out it was double ply - I needed to know so I could glue a bunch of it to her face and torso.
Then she paid me by taking off all her clothes and reading zombie Harry Potter fanfic out loud. I mean, she didn't do that just for me – it was part of the monster-themed Naked Girls Reading show at a local night club, but my ticket was free because I helped Babe Lincoln glue toilet paper to her face. I got quite the bargain, if you ask me.
My favorite part about this whole shenanigan (YES I USED SHENANIGAN IN THE SINGULAR DO YOU WANT TO FIGHT NOW) was that it gave me an excuse to experiment with gelatin for fake wounds. My experiments utterly failed, of course, but it's a start! I will learn this eventually. I just need to meet more naked ladies who want to look uglier than they really are for practice. I hope I meet some soon.
Until then, here are ( a few pictures from recent life. )
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| Sunday, March 4th, 2012
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11:58 pm - I work with people.
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One of my coworkers recently joined a gym. He told me about his complimentary orientation with a personal trainer when he got to work the next day. The trainer brought a sheaf of papers to the meeting so she could track his progress, but I think she regretted it by the end. According to my coworker, their first conversation went like this:
TRAINER: So let's talk about what you're looking to accomplish here at the gym. Do you have any specific goals in mind?
COWORKER: I want to be a beef king.
TRAINER: Okaaaaay. A beefcake.
She took out the first sheet of paper and wrote “wants to be a beefcake” in the goals section.
COWORKER: No.
TRAINER: What?
COWORKER: You wrote “wants to be a beefcake” - I want to be a beef king. King.
TRAINER: Beef... king. Sorry. Right. And, um, how long have you had this goal?
COWORKER: TWO HOURS.
He went back the next week and told his trainer he had an additional goal.
COWORKER: I forgot to tell you before - I want to grow a butt.
Ever since then, the coworker has been blending a lot of protein powder into his smoothies. He calls the smoothies “man milk” and then he grunts while drinking them. It actually looks like he's making progress, though. Like, he's developed these little dents that stay visible under his shoulder muscles and biceps even when he's not flexing.
It makes me feel a little guilty about the current jellyfish-like state of my own arms, but not guilty enough to drink the man milk. That stuff looks vile.
I have another coworker who turned 21 last week and she drank 21 shots of espresso to celebrate. She spent most of the rest of her shift throwing up. Her supervisor told me she threw up 15 times, which is kind of a shame. I really think if she'd tried harder she could've found something to make herself throw up six more times. THEN she'd really have a story to tell the hypothetical grandkids.
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| Friday, February 24th, 2012
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2:40 am
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2:00 AM. I was sleeping when Zim started pounding on my bedroom door.
LEX: Mmf?
ZIM: Lex. Lex, you need to see this.
I stumbled blearily into the other room, where Zim showed me a video of a man cleaning a pipe.
ZIM: He's using pipe cleaners. He's using pipe cleaners to clean a pipe.
LEX: ...
ZIM: I didn't know you could do that. I... I just don't know about the world anymore.
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| Monday, January 30th, 2012
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2:34 pm
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Grizzled looking dude walked into Coffee of Annihilation wearing a Hat. At the time I thought maybe it was a 10 gallon hat, but I just did an image search for “10 gallon hat” and this thing must've been 20 gallons at least.
Anyway, the dude walked up to the counter.
And that's it.
He just.
Stood.
There.
LEX: Can I help you, sir?
HAT GUY: Only the Lord can help me now.
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I gave the guy a free cup of coffee. He drank the whole thing at the counter, staring wistfully at the wall.
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| Thursday, January 19th, 2012
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4:22 pm
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Last night I stowed away illegally at the top of a Catholic seminary. Justin, my best proto-priest friend, had said I could stay with him while I was in town for the Midwinter Gaming Convention, but then he reserved the guest room for the wrong date. So I found myself in Milwaukee with no place to sleep, and I couldn't stay in Justin's room because seminary has absurdly strict rules regarding cooties.
But hey, at least I'd already had dinner! Justin and James and I all met up at a diner earlier that evening, and as soon as Justin saw James he roared, ripped open his shirt, and exposed his chest to the restaurant. That... uh... that was probably my fault because of the one time I told Justin that James had a demon tattoo and he needed to fight it with his god tattoo.
The part about the demon tattoo was a lie, but this experience pretty solidly confirmed that sometimes lying is a great idea.
Then the waitress arrived and we had to explain the shirt buttons scattered all over the floor.
But anyway, no place to sleep. Except... except that nobody at the seminary ever climbs this staircase, so Justin was pretty sure I wouldn't get caught if I slept up there. “Here,” he said, “just let me get you a pillow and a blanket and a stuffed animal – it'll be cozy!”
A “stuffed animal.” Right. Hi, Mr. Flibble.
Justin was absolutely right about the coziness. That staircase doesn't lead to a room, exactly – it leads to this tiny nook with exactly enough space for one stowaway to sleep comfortably. Oh, and also? That room sways in the wind. Equal parts comforting and terrifying.
Justin says I can have a real room today, which I guess is a good thing because I'll need to put on my claws and fangs soon. I don't know about lurking around the public areas of a seminary with claws and fangs. Seems inappropriate somehow.
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| Sunday, January 15th, 2012
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11:21 pm
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Dammit. So I need to have my cannibalistic faerie hag costume ready in three days. This didn't sink in until about an hour ago, when I bought a set of fake nails, cut them into claw shapes, and glued them on to see if they'd fit. And they do! Yaaaaay!
But now I, uh, can't get them off. I thought I could use nailpolish remover, but no, apparently that is just for polish. Looking at the package, I guess I need special nail glue remover? And now my hands don't work anymore and the late night Walgreens is closed. Seriously it is taking a full minute to type each word here. How do people with actual long nails stand their lives? Is this what being a werewolf feels like? Showering and using the Internet must suck when you're a werewolf. Or, ya know, a person with long nails. Ugh, and now I'm going to have to get up all early and slink back to the Walgreens with my shame-hands.
I'd facepalm here, but I'm afraid of stabbing an eye out.
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| Saturday, January 14th, 2012
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4:02 pm
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You guys you guys you guys you guys. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=91.7) voey drew my Exalted character!
Yes. Yes.
You should absolutely commission voey to draw game art for you. He will do your character justice even if she is a middle aged lady covered in open sores.
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6:47 am - We are just like awkward faerie Batman.
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5 AM. I woke up from a dream in which I realized I should be friends with Tavros Nitram from Homestuck. So instead of going back to sleep, I... uh... what is wrong with me I don't even know.
I will shut up about this soon, I promise.
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| Thursday, January 12th, 2012
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1:29 am
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Is this liveblogging? I'm not exactly sure what liveblogging entails, but I get the impression you have to tell the Internet about a thing while the thing is actually happening instead of waiting until it's over. In any case, that's what I'm doing right now.
The thing I'm telling the Internet about (hi Internet!) is my friend Misha embarking on the Gaston Challenge.
Remember Gaston? He's the muscle-bound hunk villain from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. At one point Gaston sings a song which contains this bit:
When I was a lad I ate four dozen eggs
Every morning to help me get large
And now that I'm grown I eat five dozen eggs
So I'm roughly the size of a barge.
“Five dozen eggs?” thought Misha, “That sounds like a lot for breakfast. I could probably do it if I had a whole day though.”
And now he's finding out. Misha just ate his 40th egg, but it's getting pretty late and he might not have enough time to make it to 60. THE TENSION MOUNTS.
It's almost certain he'll make it to four dozen, though, so he'll be lad-Gaston even if he can't make it to barge-Gaston. I'm so glad I'm not the one doing this.
The best part of this whole venture is that Misha is actually on a diet right now. It's a super restrictive diet that would drive me nuts if I ever attempted it, but it seems to work well for him – he's already lost a ton of weight and he seems happy. Misha is not cheating on his diet today. He's allowed to eat 60 eggs as long as he doesn't have any fruit or bread or anything.
I'm glad I don't spend much time thinking about carbs. Carbs are weird.
49 Now. He's eaten 49 eggs. He may make it to Disney villain status by the end of the night after all.
52 eggs now. Confidence rising.
AND HE MADE IT. 60 eggs! He's not the size of a barge though.
Maybe a kayak.
A small kayak.
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| Sunday, January 8th, 2012
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3:23 am
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The thing I've learned so far this year is maybe a little bit what drug addiction feels like. My parents read this journal, so I should probably clarify right away that I'm not on heroin or anything. It's just... there's this webcomic. It's called Homestuck and it's several thousand pages long. Some of the pages are 13 minute videos. Some of the pages are flash games. I started reading around New Year and I haven't cared about anything else since then.
It turns out that completely replacing sleep with a webcomic makes you a lot less able to engage in regular life activities like feeding yourself, taking care of basic hygiene, and attending kick-dudes-in-the-face class. It also makes you worse at reading the actual comic, because you've gone all bleary-eyed and addle-brained from sleeplessness.
Even my basic I-need-to-dress-up-like-this-character-now skills suffered.
I repeatedly tried to stage interventions for myself, but they didn't work because all the parts of my brain were equally addicted to Homestuck. It kept happening like this:
BRAIN BIT 1: Hey Lex, how about you put some laundry in the machine?
BRAIN BIT 2: Can't. Homestuck.
BRAIN BIT 1: It'll take five seconds. Seriously. You are out of clean underpants.
BRAIN BIT 2: I think your favorite psychotic alien clown just hit on the parapelegic space pokémon player.
BRAIN BIT 1: WHAAAAT LET ME SEE.
You do not want to know how long I've been wearing this pair of underpants.
The part where my drug metaphor starts to break down is that actual drug addicts can't forcibly cure themselves by just... ya know... smoking all the drugs until there are none left. But that's what I just did. I smoked all the drugs and I guess that means I'm default cured now? I talked to my mom on the phone, anyway, and now I'm posting on my journal and I have a load of laundry in the wash and a pile of asparagus in the oven and I just played a real life card game with real life friends. And I did a pathetically tiny set of pushups because apparently I've let myself get so out of shape that I have jellyfish instead of muscles now.
But look! Life activities! I am doing them! That means I'm not psychologically dependent anymore and it's safe to engage in a moderate amount of fandom. OH GOD I KNOW SOME OF YOU HAVE READ THIS WEBCOMIC I HAVEN'T LOOKED AT IT IN AT LEAST TWO HOURS PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT HOMESTUCK.
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| Sunday, December 25th, 2011
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5:44 am - Does this mean I have to read Homestuck now?
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| Friday, December 23rd, 2011
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6:37 pm
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If you don't believe in the curse I have where I can't give anyone a decent present ever, I've got even more evidence for you. A few weeks ago, I'd decided to thwart the curse and actually try making someone a holiday present this year. I'd gotten pretty far on the project when the Universe stole my sewing bag - the one with the present in it, and my good scissors, and needles and thread and an apple and a few dice and some capoeira shirts because I am allergic to organizational systems.
Well, crumbfeathers. Gift curse strikes again! Guess nobody gets homemade presents this year.
But then I had a religious experience. It went something like this:
METAPHORICAL LOKI-LIKE BEING IN MY HEAD:* You're such a pushover.
LEX: Yeah, pretty much.
MLLBIMH: You wanna be like that?
LEX: ...not really!
MLLBIMH: So...?
LEX: SUPREME VENGEANCE! FIRE AND BLOOD!
MLLBIMH: That's where you start over but with more cursing, isn't it?
LEX: SO MUCH MORE CURSING.
Religious experiences like this are a big part of why I'm an atheist.
Anyway, Sam helped me get new supplies and I started the project over last night on his kitchen floor. His ladyfriend Nadja must've heard my grunting and cursing because she came over and asked if I'd like a drink. Nadja had made me several cups of delicious tea over the past week, so of course I said yes.
NADJA: Vodka and what?
Ohhhh, a drink. Well, it did seem timely. And Nadja is legitimately Russian, so her order to drink some vodka carried more weight even though she called it “vodka” and not “wodka.” Sigh. That's probably the most disappointing thing about Nadja – she sounds like a regular ol' european person and not at all like a villainous cartoon character or Pavel Chekov from Star Trek.
So now I'm frantically sewing, for a certain definition of “frantically sewing” which involves hour long breaks to pop bubble wrap. Sam sat across from me with his own sheet of bubble wrap and we had a bubble-popping race and I won. Huh. And now that I think about it, that's probably the only race I've ever won in my entire life. I wonder if Sam let me win? MODERN ROMANCE.
* hereafter referred to as MLLBIMH because I like trying to pronounce awkward collections of letters
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| Monday, December 12th, 2011
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5:50 am - Everything I know about invasive species I learned from Star Trek
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You know tribbles? They're these little alien critters on Star Trek. They're perfectly adorable and would make great pets except that they're born pregnant and will basically take over the world if you let them.
Well, it turns out tribbles actually exist, except here on earth they're called giant African land snails and I WANT ONE. Here's a picture I stole from Wikipedia:
Look at the doodly little eyes! Andandand you can hold them and they'll eventually grow longer than your hand and you can brush their shells clean with a toothbrush. And man, can you imagine a better excuse to avoid social awkwardness? “Yeah, your party sounds really fun but I've got to stay home and brush my snail.”
I need an excuse that legit.
Unfortunately, these guys are crazy invasive and therefore illegal in the United States. Earth-tribbles, unlike space-tribbles, are not born pregnant, but they are hermaphroditic and capable of self-fertilization. And, okay, the Internet says the self-fertilization thing is extremely rare, but it's pretty common for one snail to store sperm from another snail for years at a time, so getting just one snail won't necessarily stop it from having 300 babies out of nowhere.
Oh! Oh! And giant African land snail sex is really cool. I watched a documentary sex tape online and it was basically these two snails all cuddling and slurming around and then stabbing each other with their neck-penises. (They have neck-penises.)
The snails subsist mainly on plant life, but they'll also eat sand and concrete and the stucco siding on your house. People have tried to combat snail infestation with poison and isolation and FLAME-THROWERS, but not even the flame throwers worked. One time, the United States Army tried to use the snails as a food source on some tropical island, but then the snails escaped and started causing agricultural havoc. So then the Army released some carnivorous hunter snails to get rid of the African snails. The African snails lived. Native snail species were hunted almost to extinction.
So I really do respect the environmental threat presented by the giant African land snail. But I also still really want one. And I have a solution! These guys are totally legal in the UK! I don't want to leave all my friends just for a snail, but I don't see any reason why all my friends shouldn't move to England too. After all, they could also get pet snails there! And we could all have parties and brush each other's snails and really guys there is no downside why are we not invading England right now?
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| Saturday, December 3rd, 2011
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3:08 pm
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So it turns out maybe getting a cat for our cat wasn't the best idea.
See, the Internet told Zim that kittens learn best and are happiest with other cats around, and he wants all the best for little Ariadne, so he got her a cat. Her name is Marceline and Ariadne loves her. Or at least she loves stuffing Marceline's ears in her mouth, and really isn't that close enough?
Problem is, the rest of us love Ariadne and only grudgingly put up with her annoying pet cat. Marceline is basically fine, it's just... she monologues nonstop. You can always tell where Marceline is by following the mrow mrow mrow mrr meow mrowmrowmrow yowl mrr mrow... And if you try to escape by going into another room and closing the door? She will hurl herself against the door until you take pity on her and let her in.
And then about a week ago the house started to smell like a toilet. Changing the litter box did nothing. Marceline's yowling got more insistent. The day I caught Marceline taking a leisurely piss next to my cellphone charger, Zim finally figured it out.
Marceline hasn't been spayed.
Oh.
I miss the days when Mara was the most sex-crazed person in the house - she doesn't pee on the walls when she's frustrated, and she can talk about sex on the Internet instead of babbling about it to us all the time.
We're going to get Marceline spayed, but Mr. Bread says we have to get rid of her anyway. Frankly, I'm relieved. I'll hate to take her away from Ariadne though. Poor kitten. I made a loud “Gah!” sound the last time I caught Marceline behaving inappropriately, and Ariadne gave me a startled look.
Aww don't worry, Ariadne – you're too young to understand. And we're going to mutilate the heck out of your reproductive system before you get the chance to figure it out.
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| Tuesday, November 29th, 2011
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9:22 pm - For great hubris!
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The Exalted game I've played every week for the last year just ended. I'm gonna miss it a bunch. This means you'll have to put up with a pictures-and-quotes post. Sorry guys. At least I'll stick most of it behind a cut.
THE RETURN OF THE SCARLET EMPRESS
an Exalted campaign featuring:
Zim as Xacus, Dragon-Blooded airship captain, tech guy, and all-round badass.
(He got an ice cream cake for his birthday. WE DESTROYED IT.)
( Here's the promised cut. You should click on it if you were in this game. )
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| Monday, November 21st, 2011
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1:48 am - Woo Teslacon!
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My new favorite thing about working as a barista is the inherent threat - I could poison your drink at any time. At least I think that's why Lord Bobbins gave me the free TeslaCon ticket. My pouty face when I heard the convention had sold out was pretty compelling, but I doubt it was as compelling as the strychnine label I snuck onto the vanilla syrup when nobody was looking.
This is the second year in a row that Lord Bobbins has run a steampunk convention, and the second year in a row that I failed to prepare for it. I still had a great time though!
( I'll stick the rest of this post behind a cut because it has a lot more pictures. )
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| Wednesday, November 16th, 2011
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1:40 am - Things you find in the Labyrinth
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I reached for the light switch without looking and felt something different than usual.
Oh, hello little dude. Thanks for hanging out and letting me take your picture. I like striped socks too. :-)
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