potpourri

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Matty for the box of Gaiman-y goodness. It took me like 6 weeks to pick it up from the post office, but when I finally opened it up in the car, I did the happy dance seat wiggle, and texted some love.

Thank you for brightening my day, you wonderful gay boy from Iowa.

Oh, and if anyone's keeping track, I'm now sporting a short, messy, bleach-blonde pixie crop again.

And I don't know what to be for Halloween. Last year I was a Hot Topic store manager. This year? Meh.

But I do know that I want a Oral-B spinny-headed sonic toothbrush for Christmas. (The one that's like $60 at Target.)

I also want a peticure, or whatever the hell you call the cat grooming tool that files the nails shorter.

Today I took a prescription in to Target pharmacy to get filled because I get points for shopping there, and was told it'd be about 15 minutes to fill. I went back about 25 minutes later, and I was informed that they couldn't give me my prescription because while it was filled and sitting in the basket waiting to be claimed and paid for, the pharmacist was on lunch until 2pm, and they legally couldn't dispense anything while s/he wasn't present.

Maybe they coulda told me that when I dropped off the script, since the pharmacist appeared to be at lunch then, too.

When I said I prolly wouldn't be able to pick it up until Monday now, the dude shrugged and said he was sorry that he couldn't help me.

virtual, schmirtual.

I have an account on a 3D-avatar site called IMVU.

In the past it's been a great source of entertainment and friendship, but more and more it's become a place of disappointment and heartache.

For some reason, of all the thousands of chat rooms I could be hanging out in, a virtual dance club with bunch of regulars that are socially-maladjusted nerds seems to be the place I feel most comfortable calling home.

Most of the people on there are broken in some way or other, much like in most online communities.

And almost without fail, every single time I care enough about someone to actually consider them a real friend, they disappear.

I seem to combine the best of video games and anime with all the fun of a therapist and friend... Talk to an ultra-hot neko cat girl in a see-through kimono, or a winged pixie in chain mail, and she'll not only entertain you in a variety of ways, but be an irreverent flirt, an ego booster, a conscientious listener, a shoulder to cry on, and solve all your problems lickety split.

It's like I give the magical gift of being able to function in the real world without the need for virtual anything anymore.

Except who do I get to talk to when they're all fixed and go away?

callooh! callay!

Ba'et bashak ushlay pachzar
Be'afsay-chak savsu, makdo:
au az chilcain haya nimzar
umtay-aran kairdu.

"Gura bnee, min hapiton
mai 'chod-shino, chil-ziparno!
mayof-girgir tanoos, za'on
maychetesh bim'gono!"

Vehu shalaf saypho hachaz:
nad, cheepace et pechik-tzarav --
veko amad betzel zamzam,
tapoos beheerhoorav.

Odo omed shefa hagoot
vehapiton, einav dolkot
veesh'vesh beya'ar hamanood,
ho'e'ah venakot!

Bim'chi chazooz - habas! habas! -
ticktaich hasayif benimhar
natal et rosh pigro hazed
ve'el beito tzahar

"Af ketalto, et hapiton?
achabkecha, yaldi hatzach!
ho yom-tzilha! yabah! yabah!
bechedvato patzach.

Ba'et bashak ushlay pachzar
Be'afsay-chak savsu, makdo:
au az chilcain haya nimzar
umtay-aran kairdu.