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The cake is a lie...
Profile


Noacat
Age. 44
Gender. Female
Ethnicity. YAHTZEE!!
Location Wyoming, MI
School. Grand Valley State Univ
» More info.
Writings

Calendar


August 2019

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The Man-eating Lions of Tsavo and Other Children's Tales
Wednesday. 9.19.07 8:52 pm
So, I was watching an interesting show on the History Channel called Man-eaters about the man-eating Lions of Tsavo in 1898 and the more recent man-eater in Tanzania in 2002 (I'm not sure if the date is exact, I came in the middle of the program).

It was damn interesting. I mean, how could it NOT be??? It's a show about man-eating lions, for fuck's sake!

This got me thinking about looking it up on the wiki, which I did.

MANEATERS OF TSAVO! GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL!

This, of course, leads me to the Field Museum's website. So, I start looking around. OOH! Interesting facts! OH! Pictures of the lions! And then I reminisce, because I've been to the Museum and I've seen the lions myself.

They're really not THAT big, though I suppose size is relative -- plus I think any animal would be huge when they're sneaking into your tent to KILL you.

Just for shits and giggles, I hit the merchandise link.

SELL ME SOMETHING!

Yeah, they have the typical stuffs -- books about the lions. Patterson's account of killing the lions. A bookmark. A pen.

LIONS OF TSAVO KIDS TRAVEL BUDDY??? WTF??!


No, seriously. What the fuck? Dude, how 'bout they have a Lions of Tsavo action playset while their at it? You could have a Lt. Col. Patterson figurine with shooting platform and an Indian train worker set, complete with workers, who'd have detachable limbs so that your Tsavo Lions figurines could disembowel them. WHEE!

Wow, some people will do anything to sell a plushie.

Actually, it IS kind of cute.



**Note: This was originally posted at my livejournal account. But I love you all so much, I've posted it here as well.

[EDIT] Side note. I am an IDIOT! I was looking at my "Pimp My Ride Post" and I accidentally recommended myself by incautiously hitting the buttons like a clumsy, random oaf. I looked for a way to remove it, but there isn't. I'm really not that self-centered a tool -- I'm just a regular tool, who apparently can't grasp the concept of buttons and when to hit them and when NOT to.

*head-desk*

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Man Vs. Anne -- is Bear Grylls out to get me?
Saturday. 9.15.07 10:45 pm
Recently I received this email from my sister.

ANNE:

DO YOU LIKE BEAR GRYLLS?

YOUR RESPONSE IS OF DIRE IMPORTANCE.

JANE.


I emailed her back with an appropriately confused response.

Yes. I want to marry him.

WTF???


She has yet to reply... and now I'm worried.

What does she know that I don't? Is Bear Grylls out to get me? Is he hiding in my closet right now, eating lint and cat hair just waiting for his moment to strike?

I checked the closet, just in case, but I didn't find anything. It doesn't mean much. I've watched Man Vs. Wild, and that Bear is a crafty man. He could have evaded me, making some kind of screen out of birch bark and old jeans.

Whatever the case may be, I'll be sleeping with one eye open from now on...

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And now a very SPESHUL episode of Pimp My Ride
Friday. 8.31.07 7:49 pm
Dude, on the way home from work today I saw the stupidest looking car.

It looked like a Lincoln Continental circa 1970, painted mint green and get this... they had it jacked up on fucking monster truck wheels. Seriously. Here's a breakdown of the equation:

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Plus

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Equals

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

HOLY FUCKING SHIT! YOU ARE THE BIGGEST COCK ON THE BLOCK! FOR SERIOUS! YOUR HUGE ASS RIMS MAKE YOU MORE FUCKING PUNK RAWK THAN ALL THE OTHER KIDS! HOLLA!

Jack-ass.

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My sister gave me Anthrax and other SARs related artifacts
Wednesday. 8.29.07 11:14 pm
Ugg.

Well, here I am, struck down by illness, AGAIN! This time I'm not sure what it might be. Whether it's the flu or allergies is anyone's guess. The fact remains that I am tired, stuffed up, coughing and congested, and overall in a killing mood because of it.

(Not literally, folks. Put down the pitchforks...)

You know, I realize I really have nothing to say about anything.

I've noticed that. Moreover, I've noticed that no one else really has anything to say either. Really, this world is riddled with varying levels of mental detritus -- some which we deem important, but most of it is worthless crap.

I watched "Idiocracy" tonight, and I'm beginning to think that Mike Judge's vision of the future isn't too far off. We really are degrading. Sure, technology has evolved, but I think in a way, our dependence on machinery and technology hamstrings us.

We're so busy immersing ourselves in our idiot boxes -- whether it be a cellphone or a video game or reality TV -- that we don't see the irreparable harm we're doing to ourselves -- no, not only ourselves, but our future -- this planet.

Sometimes, I think it wouldn't be so bad if we went extinct. Humans, I think, are a the most successful virus. We just reproduce and reproduce and destroy anything in our way that tries to stop us.

And the fact is: despite the fact that I think this and feel raw about it, I'm as much a part of the problem as anybody.

At this point in my life, I think I'm too jaded to try and rally anyone to make a change, because change is a pretty big damn thing -- it's not something one person alone can do. I'm so small, and the problems of this world are so big. Who am I to shake my fist at the stars in an attempt to forestall fate?

Really, I think if we all just took a look at those stars from time to time -- to remind us how small we really are -- how ultimately insignificant -- that maybe things'd be a bit better.

But then again, what do I know?

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Signs of Mild Constipation and Other Related Afflictions
Saturday. 8.18.07 3:09 pm
I am bored.

Over at the parent's house. Relatives over. Booooooooooored. *sigh*

Sometimes you just don't want to talk about what you're doing because when you say it out loud it sounds hopelessly idealistic and kind of pedantic and boring. Even worse, if whatever it is you're doing is kind of cool sounding, then when you talk about it -- it's like you're bragging.

It's annoying.

You know what my dream is? To be paid to write and draw, and maybe travel. I'd like that. I recently wrote a little piece for the Anti-Advertising Agency. I was griping about the ads before movies. It kind of filled me with joy that I got to gripe about something for an entire group of other people, rather than what I normally do -- which is gripe to myself and bemoan the fact that I'm the only one listening.

Subject switch: I need a haircut. Badly.

...Today is a pleasant kind of summer day, the kind most people don't like, which is to say it's very cool and overcast and not at all warm. I'm wearing a light hoodie sweater over my t-shirt and jeans, and I'm not sweaty, nor do I feel like laying down and dying from the heat. I really just want to punch people who like warm summer days. They're not pleasant. They're not fun. They're uncomfortable and filled with sweat. I know I mentioned the sweat thing already, but I really can't put TOO fine a point on it -- I hate being sweaty.

I don' t mean to sound like some basement dwelling goth-emo kid about this, really. It's not that I hate sunshine and puppies. I love a good sunny day, and puppies are alright in small doses -- with the proviso that they don't piss on my leg. I just don't like summer days. I love a good sunny day in autumn or in spring. In winter, sunny days, while sometimes blindingly white, they can be quite beautiful. But summer... with a sunny day in summer comes excess heat. Excess heat leads to me being warm. Being warm leads to sweat -- you see my connundrum here?

Also, being that I am of British descent (I am a melange of the British Isles, if you will), I am naturally pale. Really pale. (Okay, my brother is paler. He looks like a white sheet with hair and blue eyes.) Being so pale, I'm prone to burning and for those who don't burn easily -- getting a sun burn sucks all ass, just an FYI.

My brother just did a little dance for me. It'll live in my brain forever -- until I go crazy and die.

Also, the ice cream in my parent's freezer has committed seppuku; it's innards are strewn all over the ice cubes that lay below it. It's my belief that the frozen peas were its second.

That's all... I'm out.


listening to: They Might Be Giants (in my head) and that stupid Chocolate Rain song (also in my head)
mood: Bleh

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TMBG Love and Other Pointless Gestures
Monday. 8.13.07 11:06 pm
It's been awhile since I've posted here... man.

What's been going on... things to write... must think of something interesting.

Hell.

I've got nothing.

Okay, I could talk about my continuing fascination with They Might Be Giants -- new album out in July -- it's pretty awesome. The first CD stamping also contains a bonus CD full of rarities and tracks that didn't make the album.

My favorite song so far from The Else is Climbing the Walls. The lyrics are provided thusly:

I can't talk, I got to go
Don't call me back, I won't get the door
Got to focus on the job
'Cause I got a new job climbing the walls

I was grinding my teeth, I was wasting my youth
And using up my teeth
Now I'm done chewing my nails
Hanging my head, chasing my tail
It got so bad I quit my job
Then I got a new job climbing the walls

Too much junk, too much junk
Can we please clear out this house?
In the trunk, in the trunk
And then we'll take it all to the dump
Then we won't need the car
'Cause we'll stay where we are
And I'll have all this room

I got tired of pacing the floor
Sick of it all, I'm done with the floor
Walked away ever since I got a new job climbing the walls

I was grinding my teeth, I was wasting my youth
And using up my teeth
Now I'm done chewing my nails
Hanging my head, chasing my tail
It got so bad I quit my job
Then I got a new job climbing the walls

The deep end, the deep end
People talk a lot, but they don't know
They pretend, they pretend
They don't really know how deep it goes

Now I misunderstood,
Thought the wall was just good
For staring blankly at

I got tired of pacing the floor
Sick of it all, I'm done with the floor
Walked away ever since I got a new job climbing the walls

Now I'm done chewing my nails
Hanging my head, chasing my tail
It got so bad I quit my job
Then I got a new job climbing the walls
Got a new job climbing the walls
Got a new job climbing the walls


You owe it to John and John to buy this album... why? Because it's awesome and I say so, that's why. Don't argue... it gives you wrinkles.

My favorite song on the bonus disc, Cast Your Pod to the Wind, is Brain Problem Situation. A hilarious little ditty about alcoholism and DUIs.

Wake up
Put on my makeup
And pick the rake up
And rake my hair

And I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands
I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands
I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands

On my hands, I'm looking down, and I can't see what I've got
On my hands there's a Brain Problem Situation

Twenty nine inches of snow on the top of the Situation on the Brain
And the scraper I buried somewhere in the springtime will emerge

And I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands
I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation in the bag

In the bag, in the paper bag, is the source of the call
It was traced to the paper bag
Yes the call has been traced to the bag

Stand up
And put our hand up
And with our eyes closed
We touch our nose

And the cop tells us, but we don't know
But we're starting to feel like we got a
Brain Problem Situation on our hands
We think, officer, but we don't know
But we're starting to feel like we got a
Brain Problem Situation on our hands
On our hands

Ooo ooo

On our hands

In the drunk tank
We're in the drunk tank
We're in the drunk tank
All by ourselves

And I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands

And I think, maybe, but I don't know
But I'm starting to feel like I got a
Brain Problem Situation on my hands
On my hands


I could make a crack about Lindsey Lohan but I won't... I have more dignity than that.

Right, so this post was entirely pointless and inconsequential, as most of my rambling is... Sigh.

Side note: THERE IS A FREAKING BUG THAT KEEPS TRYING TO FLY RIGHT INTO MY EYE!

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