Dearest Journalman of My Soul,
In keeping with the trend of confessing my darkest secrets to you, I have another one: Google is taking over my life. It has everything I could ever need to organize my otherwise whirlwind of a life. In fact, the How-To of the Day today on my Google homepage is How To Balance School and Word as an Adult, something that I personally find useful, seeing as I do just that. And it gave me some useful tips, such as opening an online calendar to keep track of tests and work things and to schedule study time. I think this is fantastic, so I went ahead and added my whole life to my calendar. Now, if only I had a blackberry and could check my Google Calendar from anywhere.
(Side note: The best part of my job-- getting called sweetie by giant African men. I don't know if this is just because they want to suck up and think that's the best way into my heart, or whether it's because I'm such a flaming queen that they assume I'm a woman, but...I hope not the latter.)
Well, last night I decided to delve once more into the wonderful world of making Chili. Jenna has this amazing(ly easy) recipe, involving beef/turkey, bell peppers, onions and a crapton of canned beans, tomatoes, tomato sauce and refried beans. It fills a giant soup pot to the rim, which is totally awesome, but since my kitchen stuff is totally disorganized, it led to a lack of tupperware to contain my concoction. I ended up bringing about a gallon of it to work today in the hopes that someone will help me to eat it all. I'm slowly building up a repertoire of foodstuffs that I can cook. This is going against years of being kept out of the kitchen when my mom cooked dinner and only being allowed to assist during cake- or cookie-making. I still have a phobia of baking pies because she couldn't do it. You'd think this would cause me to be more motivated to bake a freaking pie, just to prove that I'm a better baker, but it just makes me nervous. But I'm very much into cooking my own meals right now. I've been spending entirely too much money on eating out and ordering in (not to mention booze and video games...or crack). Last night's bean and beef extravaganza cost me a total of 27 dollars and probably yielded something around 15 servings. Pretty good, I'd say.
In other news, I have some sort of uncontrollable urge to own every edition of every Final Fantasy game, even when one version is fully sufficient. Take Final Fantasy IV. I played it on Super Nintendo, I've played the original SNES version on an emulator, I've played the harder JP version of the SNES game on an emulator, I bought FF IV Advance for the Game Boy Advance, despite having already played and beaten the one Chris owned. Now, to taunt me, they are developing a DS version of Final Fantasy IV, which I imagine will include some touch screen capabilities like the DS version of Final Fantasy III (which I found insanely dull after a while). I am hoping (obviously) that this version of Final Fantasy IV will have some more enhanced touch screen stuff, but it's unlikely, because honestly what would you add to a Final Fantasy game that would require a touch screen. Maybe at least they'll do something with the two screens. FFIII DS just put a stupid world map on the top screen, which made it silly that there was a button to pull up the world map, because it just copied what was on the top screen onto the bottom screen and what's the point of that!? REALLY NOW! At least I completed the GBA version of FFIV before this one is created. It would be sad if they released a DS version of FFVI, because I'd buy it and I haven't even done the extra content on FFVI Advance yet.
Ok, I'm geeked out. I may have just lost some of the few friends I have left.
Love,
Me
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Friday, May 4, 2007
Over and Over Again
Journalman,
There's something about this song that pulls up memories from my past. The memories are of how little I like it. Mostly because Tara sang it over and over again. Ba dum pum. ...
Anyway, this was a totally transparent excuse to talk to you again. You don't mind; you never mind, so long as you get a little slice of my love now and again. But there's no need to be waiting for tonight, Journalman, you can have it right now. I don't really have anything in particular to blog about besides my everpresent ennui, and we all know how interesting that is.
Let me just say that I am feeling very off-with-their-head towards whoever set the radio to Magic 106.7. My next job had better play nothing but Swedish Death Metal or I'm going to be having words with HR. Can you feel the love tonight?
Hold on, what was I talking about again? Today, I busted out some old jeans that I purchased during my hipster trash period, thinking that the tighter my pants were, the more people would love me. Alas, I attracted the same few looks of vague disinterest and borderline disgust that I always have. I just cried behind my fake black-rimmed glasses.
So, Journalman, tonight we're going out to get some food (steak tips pour moi) and some boissons (probably Tom Collins, cause I'm an old man) at Flash's before partaking of the newest addition to the Spiderman family. Spiderman 3 has already affected me in one profound way: I will never read another NY Times review. Anyone who writes in a review of SPIDERMAN 3 that it's shady (har har) that they use black as a symbol for evil deserves to be shot, metaphorically speaking. Or maybe tarred and feathered, or is that too racially charged for the Times. Aren't we beyond being sensitive to colors being bad having any relationship with race? White is good and black is evil in color symbology. Get over it. Ugh.
Alright, John Barleycorn just arrived, so off I go on my white horse to get boozy.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
There's something about this song that pulls up memories from my past. The memories are of how little I like it. Mostly because Tara sang it over and over again. Ba dum pum. ...
Anyway, this was a totally transparent excuse to talk to you again. You don't mind; you never mind, so long as you get a little slice of my love now and again. But there's no need to be waiting for tonight, Journalman, you can have it right now. I don't really have anything in particular to blog about besides my everpresent ennui, and we all know how interesting that is.
Let me just say that I am feeling very off-with-their-head towards whoever set the radio to Magic 106.7. My next job had better play nothing but Swedish Death Metal or I'm going to be having words with HR. Can you feel the love tonight?
Hold on, what was I talking about again? Today, I busted out some old jeans that I purchased during my hipster trash period, thinking that the tighter my pants were, the more people would love me. Alas, I attracted the same few looks of vague disinterest and borderline disgust that I always have. I just cried behind my fake black-rimmed glasses.
So, Journalman, tonight we're going out to get some food (steak tips pour moi) and some boissons (probably Tom Collins, cause I'm an old man) at Flash's before partaking of the newest addition to the Spiderman family. Spiderman 3 has already affected me in one profound way: I will never read another NY Times review. Anyone who writes in a review of SPIDERMAN 3 that it's shady (har har) that they use black as a symbol for evil deserves to be shot, metaphorically speaking. Or maybe tarred and feathered, or is that too racially charged for the Times. Aren't we beyond being sensitive to colors being bad having any relationship with race? White is good and black is evil in color symbology. Get over it. Ugh.
Alright, John Barleycorn just arrived, so off I go on my white horse to get boozy.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Dearest Journalman,
I know I say this a lot, but:
a) We should hang out more often. You're witty and charming and you never talk back without permission. All in all, you're wonderful.
and b) This font rocks my socks.
Regardless, I come to you with a little problem. No, it's nothing so salacious as crack addiction or raging alcoholism. I would never! Instead, it is about my sad addiction to video game addiction.
Yes, I have reached all new lows when it comes to my uncontrollable urges to play games set in fantasy worlds where I can pretend to me anything from a playboy prince to a white bear with a pom-pom on my head. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I even bring these characters that I so lovingly spend my free time with into the bedroom, much to the chagrin of my lover. It is only when I insist on calling him Zelda that he truly objects. Whatever, he's prejudiced against the letter Z.
In the past six months, I can't even imagine how much of my income has been funneled into purchasing video games and video game paraphernalia. It even reached a point briefly where I was taking my Nintendo DS with me into the bathroom in lieu of reading one of those silly bathroom readers and/or simply doing my business without accessories like normal people.
Ok, this topic bores me now. I had initially opened up Blogger simply to aide in my distraction from work. Anything to avoid being here in thought, since I can't do much about being here physically. I hate when I have no point and then I try to write something anyway and a point does not develop itself. How disappointing.
In other news, my sweet, wonderful man-lover John Barleycorn bought me a Wii this past weekend. By other news, I apparently meant the news I was previously talking about before I got bored with this entry. I have only played the Wii a little bit so far, but it is promising in the fun department. Link rides around on a pony and dishes out hurt to neighboring plants via a wooden sword that he swings when I stupidly shake the wiimote back and forth. I am looking forward to delving into the whole sports thing, but I must say, I'm more intrigued by puzzles and Zelda.
Oh Journalman. Think of me in my absence.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
I know I say this a lot, but:
a) We should hang out more often. You're witty and charming and you never talk back without permission. All in all, you're wonderful.
and b) This font rocks my socks.
Regardless, I come to you with a little problem. No, it's nothing so salacious as crack addiction or raging alcoholism. I would never! Instead, it is about my sad addiction to video game addiction.
Yes, I have reached all new lows when it comes to my uncontrollable urges to play games set in fantasy worlds where I can pretend to me anything from a playboy prince to a white bear with a pom-pom on my head. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I even bring these characters that I so lovingly spend my free time with into the bedroom, much to the chagrin of my lover. It is only when I insist on calling him Zelda that he truly objects. Whatever, he's prejudiced against the letter Z.
In the past six months, I can't even imagine how much of my income has been funneled into purchasing video games and video game paraphernalia. It even reached a point briefly where I was taking my Nintendo DS with me into the bathroom in lieu of reading one of those silly bathroom readers and/or simply doing my business without accessories like normal people.
Ok, this topic bores me now. I had initially opened up Blogger simply to aide in my distraction from work. Anything to avoid being here in thought, since I can't do much about being here physically. I hate when I have no point and then I try to write something anyway and a point does not develop itself. How disappointing.
In other news, my sweet, wonderful man-lover John Barleycorn bought me a Wii this past weekend. By other news, I apparently meant the news I was previously talking about before I got bored with this entry. I have only played the Wii a little bit so far, but it is promising in the fun department. Link rides around on a pony and dishes out hurt to neighboring plants via a wooden sword that he swings when I stupidly shake the wiimote back and forth. I am looking forward to delving into the whole sports thing, but I must say, I'm more intrigued by puzzles and Zelda.
Oh Journalman. Think of me in my absence.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
