naamah_darling: A gray cat with a white chin squinting as though she smells food. (Fish)
We were watching kitten videos on YouTube before bed, and Fish became Very Concerned about the crying baby kittens. I decided to try to convince her that it was me, so I could reassure her that there were no kittens coming to harm. I am not sure she was reassured at all.

One-minute video requires sound; I am squeaking like a baby kitten, so be warned that it's a bit loud. Fish keeps peeping in a most worried fashion. She is very disappointed that there are no real kittens.



I know. I am mean.

She really misses those kittens, I tell you what.
naamah_darling: A gray cat with a white chin squinting as though she smells food. (Fish)
We were watching kitten videos on YouTube before bed, and Fish became Very Concerned about the crying baby kittens. I decided to try to convince her that it was me, so I could reassure her that there were no kittens coming to harm. I am not sure she was reassured at all.

One-minute video requires sound; I am squeaking like a baby kitten, so be warned that it's a bit loud. Fish keeps peeping in a most worried fashion. She is very disappointed that there are no real kittens.



I know. I am mean.

She really misses those kittens, I tell you what.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
I dreamed about space pirates raiding alien planets. My crew began taking an unhealthy interest in the local fauna. At one point, one of the pirates (who sounded exactly like Jeff from Coupling) had this to say about genetically engineered animals:

"You can't put a thousand eyes on a sheep and still have room for a functioning vagina."

I just . . . I have to live with this brain, you know? And it's really not all it's cracked up to be, when thousand-eyed sheep with no vaginas are all I remember about what was a really cool dream with a really great plot.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
I dreamed about space pirates raiding alien planets. My crew began taking an unhealthy interest in the local fauna. At one point, one of the pirates (who sounded exactly like Jeff from Coupling) had this to say about genetically engineered animals:

"You can't put a thousand eyes on a sheep and still have room for a functioning vagina."

I just . . . I have to live with this brain, you know? And it's really not all it's cracked up to be, when thousand-eyed sheep with no vaginas are all I remember about what was a really cool dream with a really great plot.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Maniacal Laughter)
Tonight was my writers' group Christmas party.

Our usual ritual involves a story fragment contest, where everyone brings a two page story fragment, they are all shuffled about, read, and then everyone tries to guess who wrote what. This is enormous fun, as the fragments are almost always hilarious. Tonight was no exception.

I have posted a previous fragment of mine, and one of Sargon's, before. Those were both deliberately bad. The one I wrote today was not nearly as painful, I promise.

This year's theme was "death of the mentor." I had a really hard time with this one, but at the last minute managed to bang out two and a quarter pages. Should you choose, you can read it below. I've cleaned it up a tiny bit, and though it isn't serious, as something committed in half an hour, I'm quite pleased with it.

So read! It has mad science, evil geniuses, a brain in a jar, and lots of obscure humor!

Read on for THE BRAIN OF PROFESSOR WASHBEETLE! )

See? Was that so bad? I kind of want to write about Lady Mondegreen, now, and Jenny Blackheart.

If you're lucky, Sargon will post his Dr. Tentacle fragment, which I think is funnier than mine. And if you ask really nicely, I will post my fragment from last year -- or his, which was probably the funniest thing either of us has ever written.

Until tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like posting again. Moving sucks.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Maniacal Laughter)
Tonight was my writers' group Christmas party.

Our usual ritual involves a story fragment contest, where everyone brings a two page story fragment, they are all shuffled about, read, and then everyone tries to guess who wrote what. This is enormous fun, as the fragments are almost always hilarious. Tonight was no exception.

I have posted a previous fragment of mine, and one of Sargon's, before. Those were both deliberately bad. The one I wrote today was not nearly as painful, I promise.

This year's theme was "death of the mentor." I had a really hard time with this one, but at the last minute managed to bang out two and a quarter pages. Should you choose, you can read it below. I've cleaned it up a tiny bit, and though it isn't serious, as something committed in half an hour, I'm quite pleased with it.

So read! It has mad science, evil geniuses, a brain in a jar, and lots of obscure humor!

Read on for THE BRAIN OF PROFESSOR WASHBEETLE! )

See? Was that so bad? I kind of want to write about Lady Mondegreen, now, and Jenny Blackheart.

If you're lucky, Sargon will post his Dr. Tentacle fragment, which I think is funnier than mine. And if you ask really nicely, I will post my fragment from last year -- or his, which was probably the funniest thing either of us has ever written.

Until tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like posting again. Moving sucks.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (BTiLC Crazy Problem)
I am righteously pissed off and pretty stressed out for various reasons right now, so I'm going to lighten the mood with one simple question.

What do you do when you're alone in the car?

Go on, fess up. Don't be embarrassed. I will even go first! This is my list:

  • Give magazine/radio interviews as an imaginary person, usually about my line of work/personal history/most embarrassing moment/formative tragic moment.
  • Argue with imaginary people, as an imaginary person.
  • Pretend to be having an important phone conversation with a person who does not exist.
  • Practice howling.
  • Practice making crow noises.
  • Sing very loudly and probably very badly.
  • Talk dirty to imaginary people, as an imaginary person. (I don't do this often, but it's tremendous fun.)
  • Explain my real-life problems to an imaginary person and ask for advice, then give it, usually in a different voice.
  • Explain imaginary problems to an imaginary person as an imaginary person, ask for advice, then give it. Sometimes I disagree violently with myself.
  • Practice swearing floridly.
  • Cuss out real people who have made me angry.
  • Pretend to be piloting a spaceship (usually when making the approach to my driveway, or in heavy traffic).
  • Pretend to be an imaginary person on the run from the law/witch-vampire-werewolf hunters/my archnemesis, planning my escape to an imaginary person.
  • Practice villain rants and monologues -- this will one day come in handy in real life, for dressing someone down. Sub-creature!

    I have actually done every one of those in the past week, and I'm probably forgetting some. Yup. If some government agency has me under surveillance, man, my car is where it's at. Some crazy shit goes down in there.

    So! Cough it up! What would the CIA hear if they bugged your car?
  • naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (BTiLC Crazy Problem)
    I am righteously pissed off and pretty stressed out for various reasons right now, so I'm going to lighten the mood with one simple question.

    What do you do when you're alone in the car?

    Go on, fess up. Don't be embarrassed. I will even go first! This is my list:

  • Give magazine/radio interviews as an imaginary person, usually about my line of work/personal history/most embarrassing moment/formative tragic moment.
  • Argue with imaginary people, as an imaginary person.
  • Pretend to be having an important phone conversation with a person who does not exist.
  • Practice howling.
  • Practice making crow noises.
  • Sing very loudly and probably very badly.
  • Talk dirty to imaginary people, as an imaginary person. (I don't do this often, but it's tremendous fun.)
  • Explain my real-life problems to an imaginary person and ask for advice, then give it, usually in a different voice.
  • Explain imaginary problems to an imaginary person as an imaginary person, ask for advice, then give it. Sometimes I disagree violently with myself.
  • Practice swearing floridly.
  • Cuss out real people who have made me angry.
  • Pretend to be piloting a spaceship (usually when making the approach to my driveway, or in heavy traffic).
  • Pretend to be an imaginary person on the run from the law/witch-vampire-werewolf hunters/my archnemesis, planning my escape to an imaginary person.
  • Practice villain rants and monologues -- this will one day come in handy in real life, for dressing someone down. Sub-creature!

    I have actually done every one of those in the past week, and I'm probably forgetting some. Yup. If some government agency has me under surveillance, man, my car is where it's at. Some crazy shit goes down in there.

    So! Cough it up! What would the CIA hear if they bugged your car?
  • naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Kitty Love!)
    This is going around my f-list, and I had my camera near to hand tonight, so:

    Take a picture of yourself right now.
    Don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair...just take a picture.
    Post that picture with NO editing (except, you know, to keep it to a reasonable size).
    Post these instructions with your picture.

    The Helpful Fish

    That's what it's like most of the time. If it's not one cat butt in my face, it's another. Fish is being an especial cuddly little pain in the neck tonight. Those are my new glasses, by the way. I think they're great!

    Moving on to two other animal-related notes, I meant to post this yesterday when it could do some good, but had internet problems.

    For Tulsa area people, the Sand Springs animal shelter is having an adoption fair this Saturday, the 20th. It's from 10 am to 2 pm at the Atwoods at 730 E Charles Page Blvd. Adoption fees are super, super cheap: $35 per animal, $25 of which is refunded upon spay/neuter. Animals that are already neutered are only $10. If you or someone you know is looking for a pet, this is a great opportunity!

    Also, this is Oakley.

    DSC00469

    A friend emailed me this earlier today:

    My neighbor's name is Sarah and her dog is Oakley. He's a Shih-tzu. He was adopted from the shelter and is barely over two years old. He's a funny little dog. When I first went over to Sarah's house Oakley hopped up onto my lap and demanded pettings, all the while growling softly at me. I didn't know what to make of it but then when I went over I came to expect him bouncing up and down and the minute I sat down, him popping into my lap and demanding his pettings.

    The other day when I went over there he wasn't doing well. He wouldn't move much and whimpered and was shaking terribly. Sarah and I work together so we headed off to work. When we got home we found that after we left Oakley had gone and hidden behind a chair and laid down and stayed there all day. When he was taken outside he didn't poop and barely piddled. He wouldn't eat or drink either. I took a look at him when I went over there; his gums were pale and sticky. When you picked him up his little body went rigid and after a few seconds he'd start to shake, badly.

    Sarah's boyfriend Alex has been laid off and although he's desperately looking for work, the unemployment rate in this area is staggering. Two weeks ago Sarah found out she was pregnant. Their house was recently foreclosed on so they had to move next to us into the trailer of a friend who was spending alot of time out west on buisness. That's just some info on their situation.

    Alex and Sarah are so worried about their little guy that they cashed Alex's unemployment check to get him to an emergency vet in Lansing, but even then they couldn't afford the X-rays. Today he was taken to the vet I took my cats to and they were able to get those x-rays as they were a bit more affordable. What they found is unsettling. Three of the discs on his back are quickly deteriorating, making his life very painful. The vet said that it's possible he hurt them by just falling down off the couch, playing with the big dogs or something really simple. They've said that with steady stream of steroids, painkillers and antibiotics, that he might get past this and be on in about a month. But . . . it's also possible that he may not get past it and will have to have surgery.

    Needless to say that with a laid off guy, who is trying his best honestly, and her being preggers, they're not exactly on a huge budget for the puppy. So, yeah.


    This is the same friend -- the other Amanda -- who, like me, is really diligent about helping critters she comes across. I told her I'd post this so that anyone who is able can lend a hand. It can't hurt to ask. Things suck for a lot of folks right now, and it's not Oakley's fault things got rough for his people. This recession has hit hard, and I hate that our animals suffer, too.

    If you can help out, contact Amanda directly at magee.amanda@gmail.com.

    I hope y'all have a good weekend! I'll be back tomorrow with some links, and some silliness, and maybe some bone pics.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Kitty Love!)
    This is going around my f-list, and I had my camera near to hand tonight, so:

    Take a picture of yourself right now.
    Don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair...just take a picture.
    Post that picture with NO editing (except, you know, to keep it to a reasonable size).
    Post these instructions with your picture.

    The Helpful Fish

    That's what it's like most of the time. If it's not one cat butt in my face, it's another. Fish is being an especial cuddly little pain in the neck tonight. Those are my new glasses, by the way. I think they're great!

    Moving on to two other animal-related notes, I meant to post this yesterday when it could do some good, but had internet problems.

    For Tulsa area people, the Sand Springs animal shelter is having an adoption fair this Saturday, the 20th. It's from 10 am to 2 pm at the Atwoods at 730 E Charles Page Blvd. Adoption fees are super, super cheap: $35 per animal, $25 of which is refunded upon spay/neuter. Animals that are already neutered are only $10. If you or someone you know is looking for a pet, this is a great opportunity!

    Also, this is Oakley.

    DSC00469

    A friend emailed me this earlier today:

    My neighbor's name is Sarah and her dog is Oakley. He's a Shih-tzu. He was adopted from the shelter and is barely over two years old. He's a funny little dog. When I first went over to Sarah's house Oakley hopped up onto my lap and demanded pettings, all the while growling softly at me. I didn't know what to make of it but then when I went over I came to expect him bouncing up and down and the minute I sat down, him popping into my lap and demanding his pettings.

    The other day when I went over there he wasn't doing well. He wouldn't move much and whimpered and was shaking terribly. Sarah and I work together so we headed off to work. When we got home we found that after we left Oakley had gone and hidden behind a chair and laid down and stayed there all day. When he was taken outside he didn't poop and barely piddled. He wouldn't eat or drink either. I took a look at him when I went over there; his gums were pale and sticky. When you picked him up his little body went rigid and after a few seconds he'd start to shake, badly.

    Sarah's boyfriend Alex has been laid off and although he's desperately looking for work, the unemployment rate in this area is staggering. Two weeks ago Sarah found out she was pregnant. Their house was recently foreclosed on so they had to move next to us into the trailer of a friend who was spending alot of time out west on buisness. That's just some info on their situation.

    Alex and Sarah are so worried about their little guy that they cashed Alex's unemployment check to get him to an emergency vet in Lansing, but even then they couldn't afford the X-rays. Today he was taken to the vet I took my cats to and they were able to get those x-rays as they were a bit more affordable. What they found is unsettling. Three of the discs on his back are quickly deteriorating, making his life very painful. The vet said that it's possible he hurt them by just falling down off the couch, playing with the big dogs or something really simple. They've said that with steady stream of steroids, painkillers and antibiotics, that he might get past this and be on in about a month. But . . . it's also possible that he may not get past it and will have to have surgery.

    Needless to say that with a laid off guy, who is trying his best honestly, and her being preggers, they're not exactly on a huge budget for the puppy. So, yeah.


    This is the same friend -- the other Amanda -- who, like me, is really diligent about helping critters she comes across. I told her I'd post this so that anyone who is able can lend a hand. It can't hurt to ask. Things suck for a lot of folks right now, and it's not Oakley's fault things got rough for his people. This recession has hit hard, and I hate that our animals suffer, too.

    If you can help out, contact Amanda directly at magee.amanda@gmail.com.

    I hope y'all have a good weekend! I'll be back tomorrow with some links, and some silliness, and maybe some bone pics.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Phantom Bitches)
    I spoke to my doctor yesterday, and today I picked up samples of a new drug I can take in addition to my antidepressant, if I need to. The plan is for me to cut my antidepressant dose in half for a few days, and if that fails to bring me out of it a little, to apply the other drug and hope it doesn't interact badly or give me some horrible side effect. If that doesn't work, I sacrifice a goat to the elder gods and stick live snakes in my pants.

    What can I say? It's a plan. It's not a good plan, but then, there are no good plans for dealing with something like this.

    Anyway, I promised I'd tell you about the stupid dream I had last night, and so I shall (edited from the email I sent [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva).

    I dreamed that there was a huge museum haunted by a "ghost," like the Phantom of the Opera. This phantom was sort of like the self-appointed guardian of all the special items not on display, and all the items thought by museum staff to be lost or stolen. He had massive amounts of neat shit in his babe lair (which did not feature self-lighting candelabras, alas).

    Anyway, this phantom was enraged because a restaurant/gift shop had been opened in his favorite part of the museum. ("Did I not instruct . . . that the east wing was to be kept empty?") He was raising merry hell by causing dire things to happen to wealthy museum patrons; no chandelier accidents, but there were several collapsing sculptures. The restaurant/gift shop staff had lived in terror, of course, ever since the groundskeeper had been found dead in the walk-in fridge.

    I worked at the museum restaurant, and because I was expendable, I was told by my supervisor to find the phantom and tell him to knock off the shenanigans already, or they'd cut his funding. I went to the sub-levels below the museum, where he appeared in a melodramatically narrow and candlelit hallway. He had the cape and mask and everything, which was cool and all, but he looked like a cross between Marco Hietala* and Lucian. Now, neither of them are very big, so he was only about 5'7 and skinny. So there was this fuzzy-bearded, runty little Phantom, cursing the museum's archiving system in a very growly yet tuneful voice as he gesticulated madly and made whooshing sounds with his cape.

    There is probably no way I can explain how hilarious this was.

    The kicker is that he wanted me to be his apprentice, his Christine, so that he could share with me the wonders of special collections, and make me into a great curator.

    I woke myself up laughing before I could say yes.

    I'd wonder where that dream came from, but given the contents of my subconscious, it is perfectly obvious.

    It did make me wonder, though, if Michael Sheen can sing.

    Anyway, I am dead tired, and tomorrow is a long day of catching up on crap I've been putting off. I have to attempt to sleep now, and hope I dream about something a little less ridiculous. Like Tom Welling. Or Megan Fox. Or, you know, both of them. Necking. In a museum.

    * Marco: singer and bassist for Tarot, bassist and part-time growler for Nightwish. Depending on the direction of the breeze, the fuzzy, fork-bearded Finn is my favorite frontman. His version of the Phantom of the Opera title track is not to be sneezed at.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Phantom Bitches)
    I spoke to my doctor yesterday, and today I picked up samples of a new drug I can take in addition to my antidepressant, if I need to. The plan is for me to cut my antidepressant dose in half for a few days, and if that fails to bring me out of it a little, to apply the other drug and hope it doesn't interact badly or give me some horrible side effect. If that doesn't work, I sacrifice a goat to the elder gods and stick live snakes in my pants.

    What can I say? It's a plan. It's not a good plan, but then, there are no good plans for dealing with something like this.

    Anyway, I promised I'd tell you about the stupid dream I had last night, and so I shall (edited from the email I sent [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva).

    I dreamed that there was a huge museum haunted by a "ghost," like the Phantom of the Opera. This phantom was sort of like the self-appointed guardian of all the special items not on display, and all the items thought by museum staff to be lost or stolen. He had massive amounts of neat shit in his babe lair (which did not feature self-lighting candelabras, alas).

    Anyway, this phantom was enraged because a restaurant/gift shop had been opened in his favorite part of the museum. ("Did I not instruct . . . that the east wing was to be kept empty?") He was raising merry hell by causing dire things to happen to wealthy museum patrons; no chandelier accidents, but there were several collapsing sculptures. The restaurant/gift shop staff had lived in terror, of course, ever since the groundskeeper had been found dead in the walk-in fridge.

    I worked at the museum restaurant, and because I was expendable, I was told by my supervisor to find the phantom and tell him to knock off the shenanigans already, or they'd cut his funding. I went to the sub-levels below the museum, where he appeared in a melodramatically narrow and candlelit hallway. He had the cape and mask and everything, which was cool and all, but he looked like a cross between Marco Hietala* and Lucian. Now, neither of them are very big, so he was only about 5'7 and skinny. So there was this fuzzy-bearded, runty little Phantom, cursing the museum's archiving system in a very growly yet tuneful voice as he gesticulated madly and made whooshing sounds with his cape.

    There is probably no way I can explain how hilarious this was.

    The kicker is that he wanted me to be his apprentice, his Christine, so that he could share with me the wonders of special collections, and make me into a great curator.

    I woke myself up laughing before I could say yes.

    I'd wonder where that dream came from, but given the contents of my subconscious, it is perfectly obvious.

    It did make me wonder, though, if Michael Sheen can sing.

    Anyway, I am dead tired, and tomorrow is a long day of catching up on crap I've been putting off. I have to attempt to sleep now, and hope I dream about something a little less ridiculous. Like Tom Welling. Or Megan Fox. Or, you know, both of them. Necking. In a museum.

    * Marco: singer and bassist for Tarot, bassist and part-time growler for Nightwish. Depending on the direction of the breeze, the fuzzy, fork-bearded Finn is my favorite frontman. His version of the Phantom of the Opera title track is not to be sneezed at.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian No Pants)
    Y'all know that because I love werewolves, and because I'm bipolar, I naturally settled on lycanthropy as a metaphor for bipolar disorder.

    Yesterday, reaching for a metaphor for the myriad, swarming horrors of a mixed state, I decided it is a lot like being attacked by devil ducks. They flock with eldritch quacks, wings beating, beaks bloody. No sooner do you fling or kick one away than another goes for your throat. Even the bravest werewolf would be hard-pressed to prevail.

    Now, this might seem silly, but as anyone who knows ducks can tell you, a mob of angry waterfowl is no laughing matter.* But how to accurately describe the horror to one who has never been the victim of duck violence?

    Well, lo and behold! I have at my disposal a way to create a visual representation!

    One Lucian action figure and three miniature devil ducks later, and here you have it.**

    Werewolf vs Devil Ducks

    That is what it's like in a mixed state, assailed by feelings of doubt, anger, worthlessness; beset by insomnia and frustration; inspired by a thousand ideas yet unable to concentrate on any of them for the infernal quacking, quacking, quacking!

    My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] cmpriest, who supplied the ducks, and [livejournal.com profile] sargon999, who supplied the action figure.

    I spoke to my doctor yesterday, and I told him about the ducks. He's adjusted my medication, and today I'm going to pick up samples of some new stuff I can use in case it gets worse instead of better. I don't know how much better I feel, but at least I slept well last night, and the only dream I had was a funny one I'll share later.

    It's a start, anyway. And I have toys to play with.

    * My mother was once cornered by a flock of about a hundred ducks and several geese. She was without so much as a crust of bread with which to defend herself; God alone knows what would have happened to her if a friend had not appeared to help her over a wall. They escaped unharmed while the ducks looked for the stairs.

    ** This has been color-corrected to match the Ny-Quil color scheme of the Underworld movies. Goofy Technicolor original is here.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian No Pants)
    Y'all know that because I love werewolves, and because I'm bipolar, I naturally settled on lycanthropy as a metaphor for bipolar disorder.

    Yesterday, reaching for a metaphor for the myriad, swarming horrors of a mixed state, I decided it is a lot like being attacked by devil ducks. They flock with eldritch quacks, wings beating, beaks bloody. No sooner do you fling or kick one away than another goes for your throat. Even the bravest werewolf would be hard-pressed to prevail.

    Now, this might seem silly, but as anyone who knows ducks can tell you, a mob of angry waterfowl is no laughing matter.* But how to accurately describe the horror to one who has never been the victim of duck violence?

    Well, lo and behold! I have at my disposal a way to create a visual representation!

    One Lucian action figure and three miniature devil ducks later, and here you have it.**

    Werewolf vs Devil Ducks

    That is what it's like in a mixed state, assailed by feelings of doubt, anger, worthlessness; beset by insomnia and frustration; inspired by a thousand ideas yet unable to concentrate on any of them for the infernal quacking, quacking, quacking!

    My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] cmpriest, who supplied the ducks, and [livejournal.com profile] sargon999, who supplied the action figure.

    I spoke to my doctor yesterday, and I told him about the ducks. He's adjusted my medication, and today I'm going to pick up samples of some new stuff I can use in case it gets worse instead of better. I don't know how much better I feel, but at least I slept well last night, and the only dream I had was a funny one I'll share later.

    It's a start, anyway. And I have toys to play with.

    * My mother was once cornered by a flock of about a hundred ducks and several geese. She was without so much as a crust of bread with which to defend herself; God alone knows what would have happened to her if a friend had not appeared to help her over a wall. They escaped unharmed while the ducks looked for the stairs.

    ** This has been color-corrected to match the Ny-Quil color scheme of the Underworld movies. Goofy Technicolor original is here.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
    I'm just spamming you with random pictures.

    Later on you get pictures of wild animals, but today you get pictures of me being silly as hell.

    AND.

    Because I did not spam you with cat pictures on Friday, we will declare this a belated Caturday, and celebrate with pictures of my primary felines.

    On to the pics!

    NYARRGH ZOMBIE 01
    Me, proving that even at 30 I still cannot sit still for a picture.

    More! Click if you dare! )

    And, just because it amuses me, this picture, taken of me painting a cat design with an actual cat in my lap. This is what I look like on a good day. Ponytail, paintbrush in my teeth, paint on my hands, a cat in my lap, and something creative spread in front of me.

    Kitty Help

    Cat Help is pretty much essential to all creative endeavors.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
    I'm just spamming you with random pictures.

    Later on you get pictures of wild animals, but today you get pictures of me being silly as hell.

    AND.

    Because I did not spam you with cat pictures on Friday, we will declare this a belated Caturday, and celebrate with pictures of my primary felines.

    On to the pics!

    NYARRGH ZOMBIE 01
    Me, proving that even at 30 I still cannot sit still for a picture.

    More! Click if you dare! )

    And, just because it amuses me, this picture, taken of me painting a cat design with an actual cat in my lap. This is what I look like on a good day. Ponytail, paintbrush in my teeth, paint on my hands, a cat in my lap, and something creative spread in front of me.

    Kitty Help

    Cat Help is pretty much essential to all creative endeavors.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
    Well, [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva had a birthday, and I, being a geek, wanted to get her something incredibly dorky. Since she collects Martian Manhunters (don't tell), and since I'm almost as big a fan as she is (almost), I thought I'd try to find a figure she didn't have.

    Hah.

    After tons of no luck, and puzzling over it, and racking my brain, I recalled this site, in which it is proven that you can make something as silly as superheroes even sillier by combining the Justice League with '80s kitsch.

    Since I was apparently possessed by the Imp of the Perverse, I decided to try to make my own action figure.

    Yes, J'onn was going to get PONYFIED.

    I stuck a My Little Pony into my amazing Ponyfication machine, set it to "green and broody," waited a few days . . . and voilá!

    MLM01

    My Little Manhunter!

    More pics under the cut. )

    I wanted to do something silly and fun for a birthday present, and it obviously worked! Here's the reaction shot. I couldn't have picked a better moment.

    MLMFirstLook

    Happy birthday, Babs!

    All photos courtesy [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva.

    My apologies to anyone whose sense of my badassery has been shaken by the fact that I play with small plastic ponies. And by "apologies," I mean "Bite me."
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Lucian Wags)
    Well, [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva had a birthday, and I, being a geek, wanted to get her something incredibly dorky. Since she collects Martian Manhunters (don't tell), and since I'm almost as big a fan as she is (almost), I thought I'd try to find a figure she didn't have.

    Hah.

    After tons of no luck, and puzzling over it, and racking my brain, I recalled this site, in which it is proven that you can make something as silly as superheroes even sillier by combining the Justice League with '80s kitsch.

    Since I was apparently possessed by the Imp of the Perverse, I decided to try to make my own action figure.

    Yes, J'onn was going to get PONYFIED.

    I stuck a My Little Pony into my amazing Ponyfication machine, set it to "green and broody," waited a few days . . . and voilá!

    MLM01

    My Little Manhunter!

    More pics under the cut. )

    I wanted to do something silly and fun for a birthday present, and it obviously worked! Here's the reaction shot. I couldn't have picked a better moment.

    MLMFirstLook

    Happy birthday, Babs!

    All photos courtesy [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva.

    My apologies to anyone whose sense of my badassery has been shaken by the fact that I play with small plastic ponies. And by "apologies," I mean "Bite me."
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
    My birthday was quiet, and extremely pleasant, spent in the company of my family-of-choice. Thank you to all who were there -- you know who you were -- and thanks, too, to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. It was very happy, despite everything.

    I will do a proper update shortly, discussing things like cats and grandfathers and strange herbal tinctures, but for now I lay the seriousness aside and present you with gratuitous silly pictures, since it's been too long.

    Birthday 01

    Birthday fun is logged over at Flickr. Mostly, the pics are just up there for amusement because I made some very silly faces.

    Birthday 10

    Michael Manning, aka [livejournal.com profile] metalweb has a way of bringing out the Sexy Face with his pervy, pervy art. This is a compilation of his early stuff, and I'm very glad to have it. I love big cartoon asses and gratuitous weirdness.

    Birthday 12

    That one you have to see full-size, both for the face and for all the notes I pinned to it. Michael, THAT is a picture of the exact moment when I discovered "Brahma." It is one of my favorite stories in there, despite the look on my face. I was just caught off guard. My bad.

    Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] shemchadash for the loot. These two gratuitously sexy pictures are just for you. I don't know about you but the second one is my favorite.

    Aha I See

    And just when I think I've found my favorite goof-ass picture of myself, a new one comes along:

    Birthday 05

    Hard to say if I was more disturbed by the wrapping paper, or by the ghost ball hovering near my face.

    And thank you to Nonny and Morgan. Seriously. I ordered me some Collide CDs, and I'm pretty damn sure they will fracking rule.

    And for those of you who are in some way demented, here. Have some pictures of my goddamn cats. I know you fuckers miss them like anything.

    CuteFu02

    Nakedbelly!

    Don't say I never gave you nothin'.
    naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
    My birthday was quiet, and extremely pleasant, spent in the company of my family-of-choice. Thank you to all who were there -- you know who you were -- and thanks, too, to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. It was very happy, despite everything.

    I will do a proper update shortly, discussing things like cats and grandfathers and strange herbal tinctures, but for now I lay the seriousness aside and present you with gratuitous silly pictures, since it's been too long.

    Birthday 01

    Birthday fun is logged over at Flickr. Mostly, the pics are just up there for amusement because I made some very silly faces.

    Birthday 10

    Michael Manning, aka [livejournal.com profile] metalweb has a way of bringing out the Sexy Face with his pervy, pervy art. This is a compilation of his early stuff, and I'm very glad to have it. I love big cartoon asses and gratuitous weirdness.

    Birthday 12

    That one you have to see full-size, both for the face and for all the notes I pinned to it. Michael, THAT is a picture of the exact moment when I discovered "Brahma." It is one of my favorite stories in there, despite the look on my face. I was just caught off guard. My bad.

    Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] shemchadash for the loot. These two gratuitously sexy pictures are just for you. I don't know about you but the second one is my favorite.

    Aha I See

    And just when I think I've found my favorite goof-ass picture of myself, a new one comes along:

    Birthday 05

    Hard to say if I was more disturbed by the wrapping paper, or by the ghost ball hovering near my face.

    And thank you to Nonny and Morgan. Seriously. I ordered me some Collide CDs, and I'm pretty damn sure they will fracking rule.

    And for those of you who are in some way demented, here. Have some pictures of my goddamn cats. I know you fuckers miss them like anything.

    CuteFu02

    Nakedbelly!

    Don't say I never gave you nothin'.

    Profile

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