| Slighty now at first |
[28 Jul 2009|02:08pm] |
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with just a touch, lift off and peel away the onionskin animosity. Set it to the wind and let enemies blow away. To tangle in clumps in gutters and look sort of shabby and tenacious and low-rent. Emerge radiant and vaguely sexualized and idealized and maybe a bit taller than strictly realistic and just give off a high-wattage warning belabeled choir-backed-AAH psheen. Just radiate onomatopoeiacally. And click accept friend request, and like gird up your loins if you've got 'em.
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| Journal Comic |
[20 Feb 2009|03:05pm] |
I wish I were a teenage girl from Japan with no moral compass so I could do a journal comic and people would actually be interested in it.
Is there a webcomic with a Jeopardy focus?
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| This was my most-commented lj post |
[08 Jan 2009|01:59pm] |
http://halnewcome.livejournal.com/40367.html
Saw that LJ has laid off a hunk of its workforce. I just thought it would be too bad if I lost the 4 years and over 300 posts I put into it. Maybe they will recover, but I meticulously backed up my posts and comments.
Two-thousand four was a good year to start a blog. 2005 was a good year for it to peak. lj_tuckova wrote in a comment
""oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser
for in our hearts our dreams are still the same""
And it's true. I'm wistful for the days when we were all on here and I miss my lj friends in much the way I miss my college friends. Even with the people I still see and am in touch with, I'm nostalgic for the way we interacted on LJ.
Anyway I'm on all the new-fangled social networks. On twitter I'm Przy, and lj_bowenkge and I have started making comics again.
See you.
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| Werewolf Party Game |
[30 Sep 2008|05:39pm] |
The Moderator explains:
"Each round has Night and Day. Each night the werewolves will silently indicate a single victim to me. There is a Seer in the village. Each night the Seer will indicate a player to me and I'll let him know whether he's a werewolf or not.
"Then it's day, and I reveal the victim. He is dead, and he can't talk. Everyone picks someone to lynch. Then that person is dead too. Then it's night again, a new round.
"Rounds continue until
1) all the werewolves are lynched, or
2) the number of werewolves and villagers is equal, then the werewolves rise up and slaughter the rest of the villagers in broad daylight.
"Follow my instructions."
MODERATOR'S INSTRUCTIONS
1. "It's night, everyone close your eyes and go to sleep."
1'. On the First Night: "I'm cursing the werewolves. Keep your eyes closed." For 6 players, including you, tap one werewolf. For 7 or more, pick 2. For 21+, pick 3.
2. "Werewolves, open your eyes. Select a victim. Close your eyes."
2'. On the First Night: "I'm blessing the seer. Keep your eyes closed." Tap one seer.
3. "Seer, open your eyes. Select someone to use your Second Sight on. ::thumbs up/down:: Close your eyes."
4. "It's dawn, everyone wake up and open your eyes. Alice has been torn to shreds by werewolves. Vote on someone to lynch. Bob has been killed by the mob."
----
This is a fun game, and I recommend it. Definitely have fun with the atmosphere in your descriptions of the setting and the transformations of the werewolves, the visions of the Seer, the bloodthirsty justice of the lynchmob.
I have condensed the script here to make it easier to start up the game. I've only played the game a few times. It seemed like the reason the game wasn't broken out more often had to do with tricky setup and explanations. Now that I've written it out, it's apparent that you could easily play it sitting at a table or around a TV if the Moderator just said, "Hey, let's play Werewolf," and launched into it.
Other versions of the game call for cards, but that's not necessary. Any game this fun that can be played with nothing more than a crowd -- no dice, no cards, no board, no ball -- is really noteworthy.
Check out Zarf's Werewolf page for more details on how the game is played, the werewolf-to-villager odds, variations, the game's origins, and more. If this post is your first exposure to Werewolf, don't think you get it until you go to Zarf's page.
This guy (http://www.eblong.com/zarf/werewolf.html) adapted 'Werewolf' from 'Mafia', which was invented in 1986 by Dimitry Davidoff.
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| Not on lj much |
[29 Aug 2008|10:14am] |
check me out on facebook or flickr or my new daily drawings blog oogocho.blogspot.com
i miss lj peoples but yeah
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| arm bumps |
[28 Nov 2007|09:25am] |
I keep breaking out in hives when I handle the pig. Not every time, but it's happened three times. Over Thanksgiving, I think the vet put something on him that I am allergic to.
It itches.
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| Hitman movie reviews |
[27 Nov 2007|04:48pm] |
Hitman has got a nice share of unlaudatory critical pronouncements. I'll strip them down to the most salaciously mean verbiage. Let's take a look:
blatant misogyny and incoherent plotting
an hour and a half of time assassinated
lack of interest in storytelling or logic
Eurotrashy vidgame knockoff.
misses its target by a mile
profoundly desexualized
As cold as it is dumb.
Numbingly unthrilling
The Bourne Idiocy
difficult to follow
straight-to-video
A lousy picture.
soul-crushing.
ear-splitting
nonsensical
uninvolving
Abysmal
silly
Uwe Boll bad.
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| Saw IV review roundup |
[03 Nov 2007|12:42am] |
As much as I like movies, I like slagging them even better. The only problem with that pasttime is suffering through the bad movies. This is why I really love Rotten Tomatoes.
I'll probably never have the patience to see Saw IV, I used it all up on Saw III. So here're the key phrases from the critic's comments. Read them all at once and then go punch a kitten.
slavishly photographed grotesquery
feels like cynical photocopying [what?]
depleted of imagination
an ugly mess
incomprehensible cacophony
low-rent
degrading and debasing
obviously doesn't care
excessively convoluted rehash
ultimately empty
The Syriana of slasher films
find themselves rolling their eyes ... impossibly convoluted
impossibly convoluted
undeniably feels like a sloppily thrown-together rush job
cringingly moronic
a knee-buckling case of cinematic depression
And real quick, "Good Luck Chuck", about a month late:
gross, incredibly vile, devoid of real emotion, shameful waste, harboring a fundamental hatred of women, ham-fisted, raunchy, boring, slimy, scummy, yechh, soft-core male indulgence, no more Dane Cook!, painful, pathetic waste of celluloid, ewww, desperately unfunny, unoriginal, cheap, no intelligence, tiresome, rather messy in a lot of ways, boorish, smutty, stupid, drek
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| The unleavening |
[31 Oct 2007|01:57pm] |
Earlier today i got into my sandals and started the car
this would have been before dawn
i remember the sun coming up
there was no one on the road and it was like i had the whole town to myself. i headed into downtown atlanta, sort of daring someone to show their face, but i didn't see a soul.
i parked my car on an overpass above a 14-lane wide stretch of completely deserted expressway
and that's when the matzoh balls came
hundreds of millions of them ranging in size from golf ball to twice the size of a basketball
the squishing sound they made as they rolled over every surface, horizontal AND vertical
they passed over the undersides of the overpass
ignoring me, they encased everything as far as the eye could see like soupy spherical hamsters, teeming.
swarming
and then they were gone, squish-rolling out of sight to the south, toward florida.
my car was gone. i was naked.
i stole a muu muu from an unattended street vendor's cart and caught a cab home.
my car was parked where it had been the night before.
i ran inside and got some money to pay the cabbie.
i washed my face with a towel, but i didn't let the water touch my hands
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| The Miracle Worker |
[22 Oct 2007|11:06am] |
I had to embed this because it's too perfect but the title on the youtube page itself ruins it a bit.
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| Eyelash eye |
[18 Oct 2007|09:45am] |
When I was little, my older sisters' friends fawned over my long eyelashes. It was pretty nice, but not a fair trade for a lifetime of Eyelash Eye.
I get what I assume must be a more-than-average amount of eyelashes stuck in my eyes. I don't even bother going in after them until I get one in both eyes. This happens almost every other day. Think about that. My body is not designed properly. Sometimes I get them curled back over and poking me in the eye when they're still rooted at the eyelid. Maybe certain times of the month are worse? Eyelash shedding periods?
I've got one stuck in there right now, actually. It's crammed up above my left eyeball, on the medial side. There's nothing I can do. If Lisa were here, I'd probably try to talk her into irrigating with some clear eyes or something. I'm ready to try anything.
By now I'm pretty good at poking them off the surface of my eye while looking in a mirror, or blinking in such a way as to move them somewhere I can get to them. I tried flushing my eye in the sink. Nothing.
Ow ow ow.
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| some tshirts |
[17 Oct 2007|01:19pm] |
I'd like to point out some tshirts that I am making available to the cladding public. Feel free to get all dolled up in some of this stuff. Don't come complaining to me when everyone suddenly wants to be your friend, though:
The Caveman Head - put it over your naked chest, back, belly, and shoulders.
 
Beerlood Drive - They love this thing at the donation center. True story!
Pinwheel test - "Does Thiiis Feel Like Thiiis?" Guy's version also available, in green. This one is pinker. Also in gold and in mint.
Gloria STEINem - Technically not a shirt. "A man needs a fish like a woman needs a bicycle."
Don't miss the "I comment to keep ![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) claudelemonde around" shirt. It's yellow and it makes no sense. I'd split proceeds with Claude herself, but I'm pretty sure I'm selling it at face.
Get a "Ven Diagram of DOOM!" hoodie and have people wonder about both a) Steve and b) your spelling. And your unintentional racism.
Products ordered today will be there in time for Halloween. Dress up as a guy holding an offensive, nonsensive mug!
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| I have a one-track mind |
[06 Aug 2007|01:18pm] |
Ben pushed the boarded door open as wide as it went and strode into the road with the torches held at arm's length. The kerosene soaked rags disintegrated slowly at their edges and fell flaming to the road. The things fell back, out of Ben's sphere of influence. He was light-headed from the fumes and not enough to eat. Part of him had madly expected the zombies to scatter like cockroaches, to disappear into cracks and crevices. Instead, they hung back, regarding this new volatile thing. They moaned and drooled and rotted at the fresh meat with the burning arms.
Shifting the second torch to his free hand, Ben wheeled, whooshing with flame. The zombies backed away some more. He tried to get a clearer look at the scratches and bites on his forearms. The black smoke from the torches was making his eyes water. It was dimmer in the twilight of this particular canyon of buildings. Ben kept swooshing the torches and made his way down toward a road that ran east-west, one that was still catching some light from the setting sun.
Only a few of the things were out on the street here. He passed the entrance of an underground parking deck. Things shifted and shuffled almost-seen in the darkness beyond and below the candy-striped barrier arms. Soon the other ones, the ones who were sensitive to the light, would come up from the yawning basements and stairwells. It would only take Ben twenty or thirty minutes to walk out past the downtown area. If he didn't get turned around somewhere, it would only take him thirty minutes. Forty-five minutes, tops. There should be that much daylight left. Maybe he would run into the Marines on his way, even.
He turned the corner onto a numbered avenue and almost stepped in a rotting ribcage. The head attached hissed and strained at its neck tendons. Ben yelled and pirouetted, arresting his right foot in mid air and spinning clockwise. A walking corpse that had been stumbling along was in Ben's face when he finished his little ballet move. He shoved a whirling torch in its armpit. It clamped its elbow and wrenched the burning thing from his hand, catching fire. Ben backed into the middle of the road, flashing looks in all directions, suddenly remembering to keep aware of his surroundings.
The putrefying flesh of the zombie caught and burned marvelously. It tumbled to the ground howling, and crawl-scurried down the gutter, back the way Ben had come from. A plume of smoke gushed from it. Nothing else moved in the abandoned street. Ben could see for blocks to the east. He saw the trench of the highway two blocks down on the west. The sun glared in his eyes, casting its light on the private moment Ben was having with the burning zombie and and the hissing torso on the corner. Ben wondered if he should wait for it to burn up and stop moving, to get the other torch back. He decided he couldn't bear backtracking even those few paces.
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| Saint Pellegrino |
[13 Jul 2007|03:24pm] |
The girl ahead of me at Moe's ordered a S. Pellegrino Sparkling Natural Mineral Water.
So I had to try one.
It was fine. It went surprisingly well with a burrito.
I finished my food and took half a bottle of water and got in my car to drive home. But I was self-concious about actually drinking from the green glass bottle, lest a cop see me. It looked just like I was drinking either a mini-champagne or a big Heineken.
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| Business Trip |
[12 Jun 2007|08:40am] |
Going to Boston for the first time tomorrow. Me. I am.
I like flying. I like it a lot.
I don't like driving to the airport, getting there early, and paying for parking. I don't like lugging luggage [i just now made the connection between those words].
I don't like waiting in line for everything; The ticket counter, security screening, getting in the plane.
I don't like departure delays and airport announcements about fearfully eyeing everyone else and their luggage to see if they are terrorists and bombs. This fearful eyeing is why zombie cinema has seen a recent resurgence. This unattended bag could contain vials of The Infection...
I don't like cramped knees in coach. I don't like my feet being cold and my head being hot.
But I do like being in the air. I like looking out the window at the sun and the clouds. I like trying to figure out how far the horizon is.
I like being in flight. I like having people bring me snacks. I like sitting and listening to my music. I like when there's a movie I wouldn't have otherwise watched. I like taking a nap.
I like walking through the airport and looking at the public art and the utilitarian architecture that's supposed to evoke Air, or The Wing, or Sweeping. I like the moving walkway and the tram.
I like seeing a new city, being in a new place, on an adventure.
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| Hey there fatties |
[07 Jun 2007|05:38pm] |
Today the company morale officer or whatever just now sent a mass email to all the people who work at the office I used to work at, before I started telecommuting.
"Weighwatchers at Work" it said. Here's the graphic
This is the email equivalent of getting a bottle of Scope in the mail.
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| Green Plant |
[06 Jun 2007|05:05pm] |
Green Plant is the name of my only officemate. I work from my home. I don't know what kind of plant Green Plant is.
We got Green Plant from the realtor as a house warming gift. He had a tag on him that said "Green Plant" with a picture of him on it. Lisa hated the realtor because she'd had to deal directly with her during the process of buying the condo. Since I was four or five states away during the process, I never managed to get much of an impression of the woman except that she was basically like every realtor on the planet; constantly distracted, middle-aged, and female. But when I haven't got an opinion and Lisa has, I usually default to hers.
Since Green Plant was a housewarming gift, that makes him over a year old. Thus, he is the oldest plant I have ever owned. Green Plant is expressive, which is one reason I think he has lived so long. When he is dry he droops considerably, reminding me of my sole duty to him. When he is freshly watered he springs back up, making the relationship gratifying for me.
Here he is, drooping.
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