(no subject)

It is officially a mouse.

It has developed a squeak, so that every time I try to play some retarded clicky-on-things-and-make-them-vanish game, all I hear (over the goofy sound effects of the games themselves) is squeak squeak squeak.

I thought I would like to sit here and shoot myself in the head, but I realized the best I could manage would be with a tiny little hair-braiding rubber band, which, with my luck would go straight inmy eye, and I would have to spend all day tomorrow being the bearer of the red and watery orb. Sometimes being a total flake is irksome.

I added three seconds to my mile, but only becasue I had to stop and tie my shoe, and wait for some idiot to realize that the entire street is not their POS's plaything; i hit the lap button on the watch, instead of the stop/start, so , when I went to start again, wound up with a time that was still timing, I guess.

Have been hella woozy and dizzy since the last of the Paxil. You know that headshake thing you do when you're trying to shake off sleepiness? (You might not do it, but if you were any sort of a nice person, you would humor me, and start soon) It feels like that--inside my brain. Like some sort of short-circuit or something, and I have been roaming around all starey and unfocused. Have also screamed at people for little to no reason, full out yelling.

And I won't even get into how many people I've had to chase out of my yard because they're upset that I've been biting the shit out of their children... I'm beginning to think the phrase "Get the fuck out of here or I'll beat you to death!" has lost its meaning in my end of the world.

I'm 6'1", 250 lbs, and occasionally so scary-looking, that as a younger man, I have been escorted from buildings, just for being there, and yet these idiots somehow feel that it is still perfectly okay for them to stand in the face of some Anglo absolute stranger (we're the worst, mind) and ignore threats to their life and limb as though they were mere babbling.

If any of that had really happened, mind you, it would probably put me right out. I'm not sure I could bring myself to bite any of the neighbor children--they don't seem to stay very clean, and with the humidity here, the little weasels are bound to be entirely too sweaty... Now, the withdrawal, and screaming at my fam is true, but i apologize after, and make sure that everyone under the age of ten gets a good old-fashioned jump on the middle of my back as a way of making amends.

It's two in the morning, here, in nunu land, and the goldfish are wondering when they shall feed. I hear a cream soda calling me, and it's hard to hear what it's saying over the insistent whining of my bed (you were supposed to be here Hours ago...)

(no subject)

I would also like to leave you with a short passage from The Lord of the Rings, By JRR Tolkein:
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"...the..."

HA HA HA--I'm so goddamned funny your spleen just jumped out n slapt ya inda lip!
Bulldog! RAWF!!
(flings bulldog on your browser)

I knew I shoulda saved.

Had me this hella long entry half-finished, and then left to get our marriage license, and as I'm getting readay to go, I think to myself that I should save what I've written, in case the coming stormy clouds capriciously knock out my power and leave me grinding teeth.

My life is like having Murphy's Law in the form of Steve Urkel standing right beside you wht whole time, talking in that nasal whine.

I think murnkay had the right idea, but I personally would take the bat, and pound one of the chickens up the relative's ass, as a lesson to all of them about who is in charge, but then again, I've always had thought patterns somewhat akin to what would happen if rednecks could breed with the Sith.

I can picture it now, crushing a dead Bud on my forehead as a distraction to my prey, whilst I Force-crank my Peterbilt and run them over from behind. And then turn on the stereo for some Charlie Daniels Band with one hand, and pop open the cooler for a fresh soldier with the other.

That thing I was thinking before I thought of the thing I thought after this thought I thought I'd--

think?

Y'know, for someone who lists Guitar as one of his interests, I don't talk about it all that much...

Oh yeah?! Well Fuck You! FUCK!! Gedall upn my bidness n shit!! Damn!

Not really all that much to say on the front, 'cept that I still haven't decided on the sound I get from having flipped the middle pickup in my Strat over. I'm definitely at some point going to go back in there and replace the outer cover to said pickup, as I don't much dig the crispness of the tone, and I think the little plastic cover is something of a dampener. The crispy thing is okay, on it's own, except that it fucks with my hellnoise, and we can't have that, now can we?

(grabs up ballbat and another chicken, and arches an eyebrow expectantly) Can we?
*bgok!*
(glares at chicken)
Thought not.

Also, got around to filing some more height off of my twelve-strings acoustic's saddle, and then restrung it. Noticed after some playing that this particular specimen is defintely in the state I call "temporary fix": The body is giving under the pressure, and one day, after I have all the tools, I'm going to have to crack it apart and reinforce the entire gut-structure of the poor thing, as the action near the sound hole is over an eighth of an inch (bad thing) high, working its way towards a quarter inch. Oddly enough, I've played and owned worse, in my life, and the beat-up lil fucker can still stay mostly in tune, so that's all right then. Just something I'll have to deal with when I've the time and tools--right now I hardly even have proper household tools, much less all the fun specialized things you need for serious luthier work.

Mulled over design ideas for the Splatterbastard (my pet name for the paint job I have in mind for the Strat), and I'm thinking about taking out the entire trem block, and maybe even going so far as to replace it with something more along the lines of what Fender puts on their Teles, and then custom-fitting some nice sounding wood in the routed hole for the trem block. Am basically decided on replacing the pickguard with a custom cut piece of lucite, with a hand-drawn graphic pasted to the underside, to hide the electronics. Gave up on the idea of rewiring the Strat to only have the neck and middle pickups with indiviual volume controls and a master tone--played the bridge pickup with the middle, and decided the former could stay for a bit longer.

The Ibanez (I've a recently out-of-stock six string acoustic, one of their low-range builds, but compared to what I've played in the past, it's a godsend) continues to play like a sweet dream, but I'm now getting weebit sad, as I didn't take better care of the strings, so now they've gone dull. Waah.

Am thinking about talking the (soon-to-be honest) missus into letting me buy up the solder and pots I need to replace with this paycheck--all three electrics have to have something replaced in the way of volume pots, although I am also seriously considering getting some circuit-cleaning spray and seeing if that will work, to save time and money--I still need to find a replacement thin-ass nut for the tone knob on my knockoff superStrat, and will eventually get around to replacing the input jack on it, as it's been gone for months now, leaving me with a nice red gitty on the wall for deco.

Now. Anyone else wonder whether or not I'm interested in guitars?

(no subject)

I'm not crazy!---In--stitutionalized!
You're the one who's crazy--Institutionalized!

I--

oh shit, did i leave this thing on? My bad, yo.