Since when is this calledFedgewick Biscuits and Tables?the website that asks: what's below the bottom of the barrel?
there is no 12. Who told you there were twelve?
that there is a 13 does not necessarily indicate that there also be a 12.
A wholly needless, I expect, link back to the main page
|The following day, May 7, 2004|
Do you remember that play I mentioned once in March and again in April? Probably not, but I'm going to continue talking about it, anyway. First, the program. It had one.
This is the image on the front
cover page. I want to hit whoever made it. The reason I demanded it be 1743x2326 pixels is because I didn't want people seeing it up close on paper to be able to discern pixels. Wisely, the printer reduced the resolution and blurred the image, because it knows what a fool I am. That it also debed up the colors was a bonus bestowed purely out of spite.
I am told that the play was "a hit," however, it took in no profit, so obviously this is a different definition of hit than the one movie companies use, in which any mistake which sells a certain amount of tickets is a hit, regardless of whether anyone worth acknowledging enjoyed it or not. Also frequently mentioned is the fact that most of the people who came were turned away because there was no room for them. However, an even bigger one this time, due to the disagreeable room and the fact that I wrote many stupid movements into the script without the expectation that anyone would actually try to act them out, the seating capacity was eighty-six. Further, admittance was free, and students who expressed a desire to see it were excused from their 11:30am classes (especially worthy of note, since it was performed at 4:30pm in a roller-disco), and oh yes there was free lasagne afterwards. So ha. Is it wrong that I'd seek satisfaction by employing logic to attempt to prove that my play was not a success?
The actors, however, I do not regret. They managed such a dumb script so brilliantly that I might even pretend I had a thing to do with casting them. I still think screen actors are largely scum, but theatre ilks I have more appreciation for. They have to do everything many times to get it right, and they have to memorize it all, and then they have to do it yet more times, and each one of those time with a different bunch of arbos they've never met before looking on saying "entertain me!" In this particular case, imagine the arbos are senior citizens and also saying "why do they keep moving around?"
I would have liked to get some pictures of the play in progress, but since I was kind of in it to attempt such a thing may have compromised my ability to ring a bell and then hold a sign up. I admit, I'm a slave to my craft. Some of the props afterwards were free for foto, but CAM-RA was in pretend to be working and show green battery icon and then turn off screen, have a beep tantrum and not have taken picture mode, so I have none.
Afterwards some grey-suited Ralph Nader looking man sort of congratulated me. I knew who it was.
During this fire drill, by the way, every 7th person was talking on a krippendorfing telephone. I can understand maybe a few of them got calls just then, because they neglected to tell those with the number that they had classes then, or more likely said just that in the hopes of looking very popular indeed getting so many calls during those classes... right, maybe a few, but I think some I saw in the parking lot initiated the call. "Yeah, there WASN'T a fire. How about that. No, this message definitely could not have waited" Fop, I'll bet they were talking into their machines before the fire drill. Maybe there's a douchebaggery in everyday life course I hadn't heard about.
Then it was time to return to home. After the piano class, I mean. I just remembered who the teacher reminds me of. The hair, the voice, the diminutive size, all unintentionally, I hope, reminiscent of Donna Nappi, the fearsome werewolf woman who serves as "program coordinator" of the worst non-boarding school ever, Cedarhurst, so there's a chance, definitely, that this has contributed to my lack of success. I don't wish to explain at length just now, but to get an idea of the students there, think of the most selfish, whiny, abusive, unlovable spoiled rich wretches to ever not deserve to live. Now imagine that they actually don't have rich parents, and only act that way because they are simply just evil. Before I forget, the pianoist I was annoyed at for trying to "show off" looks like the air-bite guy from the only clip I've seen from Top Gun, but I can't relate that to any miserious life experience of mine, so I'll just leave it at that.
When I at last did leave, I wanted orange soda. STAT. I don't know why. Perhaps I'm pregnant. unfortunately, the closest thing we had was
Here's my bag of Skittles, by the way. Someone with money (presumably more than $10,000) hates me.
|Eventually, the thing is being performed again, this time at THE EDGE. How edgy is the edge? So much that that's its name, fool. They're so edgy that their website is at an .org. Their slogan is "if it ain't edgy, I jump the hedgey." When you buy a ticket the ticket seller sez: "watch your fingers or you'll get a paper-cut from THE EDGE." I heard they have a theatre at the summit of Mount Carmel (which is pronounced differently than caramel, by the way, you ignorant East Haven yerfs) and when you drive to one of its shows, there aren't any railings because they don't believe in boundaries and instead there are signs that read "reduce speed ahead, mind you don't drive off THE EDGE." They're so edgy, they let their logo stamp fall into minor disrepair and didn't do anything about it.|
|Thursday? May 6, 2004|
Ut oh, the Friends end today. I hope they all pile into a rickshaw and drive around to pick up the Slags in the City and then they all get on an airplane and fly to Seattle or Toronto or whatever the place the logo for the Frasier villains depicts, and then the three shows I never watched one of which I don't even have the channel for that I should never have come to know were ending fight to the death. Everyone's death, preferably, but if there's a winner, that winner goes on to face the cast of Angel, which I heard nothing about the cancellation of but looked as if it might have been remotely interesting, in the championship round. Is it unfair to put a damaged and diminished group unrested against a gang of highly trained undead folk who would be difficult to damage anyway? Not when you take into account that, having been canceled by the network rather than left to gradually rot out, the Angel group will be extra succeptible to idiotic, poorly planned, deus ex machina plot twists which would have more than likely left them all piles of bones or fairy dust or whatever vampires turn into anyway. In the end, I would like to personally present the winning losers with a significant cash prize. However, I'd still be in Connecticut, and they're all rich socks anyway, so that's irrelevant.
There is something missly agrave when mein own website is able to download for me viruses I didn't already have.
"Why yes, doctor, I think if you could make me a size triple-D that would be grrrrreat!"
|Saturday, actually, May 1, 2004|
January 36, 205: Roneldo conquers China again
Ah, more dividers.
Any job I'd trust a Cabbage Patch Kid to do I'd just as soon do myself.
I was truly planning to upload, or at least work toward the eventual uploading of a page today, but the disk I use to transport files from my "business" computer to my "internet" computer is no longer readable. I think I possibly spilt water on it yesterday. The disk I used before this one melted. The question now, is will the next disk be crushed by a giant rock or stolen by an impromptu tornado?
American Idol? I think rather that Americans: They-dull. Ha ha ha ugh.
|Even if this wasn't Wednesday, I'm saying it was, April 14, 2004|
Did you know there are four games based in some way upon the movie Shreq for the Gameboy Advance? (and you can be sure at least one of them is a kart game) To put that in perspective, my perspective, be it really necessary, I think there are only like two Star Wars games, and there were something around five of those movies, movies that were actually kind of like video games. With that in mind, I'm sad to say that my shock was not what, in an almost perfect world, it should have been -in a perfect world the afore four would not exist, and thus ruin my point- my shock was not what it ought to have been when I came across this.
There are never any action figures for the video games that deserve them. Imagine the imaginary adventures I could enact with Hulk Hogan, Chewbacca, and non-posable WCW Hulk Hogan if I could also have Flim Flam McSham, Giant Garbage Can and Sam I Am along for the romp. And why not? Demand certainly isn't an issue, for these things, when applicable, will often be found advertised in the manuals for the games the manuals are shipped with, so the figures have already been made up before anyone might find a reason to want them. And... hey, here's another picture.
|What do you know, another Wednesday, April 07, 2004|
Now we know. And knowing is half the battle.
This is Reel Fishing. Similar to real fishing, except not spelled properly. But it's also a pun, because apparently fishing poles have reels on them. Few of them do not. So I suppose it could be said that if you aren't reel fishing, you must be doing a type of fishing which involves an unnecessary, obvious, non-humourous pun on the word fake. Please do not confuse this with Showcase Cinema's Reel Trivia, which is a terrible, unfunny, pointless pun for a different type of reel. Also, especially with that sticker-thing partially concealing the R, it should not be confused with eel fishing, for that might actually make for a good game.
Align="right" rather suits this one, I think.
I saw an advertisement for this game that started off by stating a desire for some "new heroes," and then go on to extoll the virtues of a character whose first game came out 12 years ago. Sure pal. I suppose it could be argued that jumping on and destroying shoddily built robots doesn't count as heroism, because in the context of a video game, it just makes sense to do so. In factual, it could even be paid work if someone is trying to design a jump-proof robot. I do think that if anyone's a hero, it's Robotnik for coming to the aid of those poor non-jump-proof robots, and taking measures to perpetuate their species, even while faced with the problem of the mutant over-stylistically drawn hedgehog four times the size of the animals who make their living operating the shoddy robots.
If I am to assume it's not that, I don't know what this game's about. In the downer-right corner is circle that says "team rose" on it, which appears to be made up of try-hard, overcompensatingly female versions of the utterly non-masculine figures who dominate the display. What can you really do beyond giving them eyelashes and bowribbons? Canuckles is even pink already. And two-tail McGraw appears to be placing a bid on a fondue pot or ordering one of those drinks with the little umbrella in it. Perhaps "I have a suggestion!" is being said. I haven't heard the inevitable voice work, and I do not wish to, but if the case is as I've put forth, it's surely being said by someone who has a higher pitched voice than Nancy Cartwright does.
Also, I can't help but think the moment I see "join the team" that it must involve driving around in a news van in some way. Oooh, maybe they even have a chopper.
CHOP CHOP CHOPPER 4, CHOP CHOP, STOP 'N SHOP, CHOP 'N BOP, CAN'T STOP CHOPPER 4!
I've done it! Not much, but I've still done it. I appended, to the Dungeon of the Unforgiven page, the Zartan commentary which accompanied the olde [ad-less] zeroes version. I was reminded of that issue a few yestodays ago when I heard a brother (a white brother, so I assume he is related to someone present) complain about resembling Rumplestiltskin while wearing a certain set of pants. How often does that name come up? About once every 47 months, it turns out.
|The reason I didn't just take that page as it was when I first moved in here, is that much of my own wordiness was of irritation to me. However, seeing as I recently uploaded that thoroughly embarrassing mid-90s sketchbook snippet (if you haven't seen it I shan't help thee), I suppose my overuse of "quotation marks," a few jokes without solutions and an incorrigible pair of invalid links can only look better by comparison. But, ehhh, still, I did a bit of editing (I suspect too much) in my personal rainbow edition before putting the page here (or wherever it was before here but after there), and for some silly reason I hesitated [quite a while] to insert those words that you see to be blue. Although they made up only a small portion of the page, and now an even smaller portion, I think they add a lot to the positive aspect. Ehhh.|
I'm somewhat amazed at how cleanly Saint Zartan converted it all to zero format, since my most recent speulunk revealed that I had, so long ago, constructed the whole deal with the articulate and efficient Netscape 4.3 composer, or at least that's what I gathererd according to all the stray <
|Until further you notice, I'm only going to mark the date on Wednesdays, this one being March 31, 2004|
People claim to see a lot of stupid things in clouds. Sheep, ice cream, mashed potatoes, water vapour...
I am the worst improviser in existence. Watch this.
BEWARE, I LIVE. RUN, RUN, RUN, OR YOU'LL BE WELL DONE. I AM SINISTAR. WHO ARE YOU? I AM SINISTAR. I AM SINISTAR. WHO IS SINISTAR? PAY ATTENTION TO ME. LOOK, MORTAL, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY. I AM SINISTAR! PLAY MY THEME SONG! YES, YOU, WITH THE HARMONICA! LA LA LA, LA DI LA DI LA, IT'S THE SINISTAR SONG! YO YO YO, OUT IN SPACE YOU WON'T GET FAR, I'LL EAT YOU UP, I'M SINISTAR! YOU WON'T ESCAPE FROM SINISTAR, EVEN IF YOU TAKE A CAR. I NEVER OVERLOOK A MEAL FOR EXAMPLE, IN THE POPEMOBILE. I EAT FOR BREAKFAST, I EAT FOR DINNER, REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOU'RE A SINNER. WHY DO I LIKE TO EAT EAT EAT? I DO NOT KNOW, ASK TEXAS PETE. DO NOT THINK I'M OVERFED, RECALL, I HUNGER, I'LL EAT YOU DEAD! I EAT WITH PEPPER, I EAT WITH SALT, AMONG MY FAVORITE TONS ARE FOUND THE WALT-!
. . . . . . I think I'd better stop now.