What Indi Did During Her 'Vacation'
Sep. 16th, 2004 11:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sisalikSee previous entry first and let me know what YOU did while I was gone.
Now, what did I do?
I bitched. A lot.
I ran through most of the NWN mods I own. The ones with plot, anyway - I'm not big on the hack'n'slash. (Witch Wake 2, when will you exist?) Sola mod? Good. Harper's Tale mod? Good, but bloody HELL that's a lot of killing animals. And I kept mentally calling the prisoner dude "DentArthurDent."
I dissassembled a cabinet. That's not entirely true; what happened was the shelves inside fell down, so I had to remove everything and take them out and fuck with the pins. Turns out that the back of the thing has bent - curved, really - and now there's a big awkward set of shelves on the kitchen floor and a ton of pet stuff in need of a home.
I watched some movies. X2, Blade Runner, Mad Max, Pulp Fiction, and more Stargates - although those don't count as movies. What do we have in common here? Sci-fi, the old ultraviolence, and post-apocalyptic goodness. Mmmmm. I also shrieked like a banshee when I saw the kid in Mad Max was named 'Sprog' - I'd had no idea that's where the epithet came from. I was more upset about the dog, really... but you'd expect that from me. Soon as I saw that spaniel I knew it was doomed.
I threw hissyfits at Ethiopia, since that is where the storms that eventually become hurricanes begin.
I got crafty with a pair of pants: they were some old brown corduroys, circa 1978, I believe, thin-wale and bellbottomed. Now they're long shorts with some pretty red flowered faux-silk ribbon edging around the bottom. I got some more ribbon to do up another pair of jeans, but haven't got around to it yet. Fun thing: they totally forgot to charge me for the expensive stuff and as a result I got all my sewing crap for seven bucks. Whee. I also put little white applique-embroidered stars on the butt of a pair of black pants, on the little flaps over the pockets. The other jeans project involves the pair I think I was wearing the ENTIRE TIME at SquishyCon - the blue bellbottomy ones. I'm gonna put some mostly-black ribbon down the side seams. Fancy is good.
While sewing, I fixed my corduroy patchwork hat that Riley had seen fit to put a hole in. She just had to tear up the leopard patch, too. Is better now.
I've forgotten how to type, apparently. This is awkward.
I put together and shipped out a goodie box for Molly, who is the best person ever for not killing me because I'm stupidly late with mailing shit out. It has, as one would expect, goodies in it. I dropped it off at the airport post office late at night, and as it turns out the postman who stickered and stamped my box used to work at Molly's post office. He figured it from her address. There was also a cute guy - rather, cute but for the Young Professional look he had going - in line ahead of me, who kept staring at me out of the corners of his eyes. I think he was trying to count the rings in my ears.
Speaking of those - as I'm sure everyone wants to know about the holes in my head - the count is currently five objects in three holes. Four on the left, one on the right. I am so hardcore. The 14ga horseshoe barbell is in the right lobe, the 14ga CBR is in the left cartilage, and in the left lobe I have two cheapie silver rings (which are teeny tiny, unornamented, and a devil to get in) AND the silver bead stud. They look smashing together, in a hippie weirdo way. Most importantly, now nothing is poking my head or squishing my skin.
I made a bunch of postcards out of matboard, photographs, sketchbook paper, and pages of a 1950's bartending book that has completely given up the ghost. Sent one to my great-aunt Laine and another to Spricochet. It's very simple, really: get photograph, spray down the back with S7F7, affix to black matboard, let it dry, cut it out, write notes and addresses on white sketch paper, affix to other side of matboardcard with S7F7, add a stamp, stuff in the mailbox. They're thick because of the matboard and feel like daguerrotypes. I learned why they told us to never ever ever use scissors on matboard: the shit is so thick it's impossible to cut with scissors, since it Does Not Bend At All Ever. I hacked my way through eventually, so sorry, St. Katie, if the edges are raggedy. Katie got the Bartending Book page, for good reason, and Laine got the pretty sunset. Robyn, you're next on the list, but I need to find out how much postage to Canadia is before I stamp it. Mike, yours is waiting but the fucking Super Fucking Seventy Fucking Seven Fucking Can splurfled itself into death and won't stick anything anymore. Grr.
Anyone else want a funkadafied handmade postcard? All I need is more aerosol glue.
I found my bin of beads and jewelry oddments, and made myself a choker and earrings. They totally don't go together. The choker is made of some old Kuchi chain (from a pendant I got aeons ago at Sweet Charity) which is a sort of coinmetal copper-steel-brown, and very very pretty. I put some glass beads on jump rings and stuck them to the chain in three places. Tres delicate. The earrings are glass beads - one amber, one clear - that match in shape but not color. I 'loaned' the earrings to my mom, but she'll probably wind up keeping them. Fine with me; I've ganked tons of her stuff. In this bin I also found my wire and pliers, so I fixed a bracelet; it's a rosary-bead looking thing with garnets on.
I checked my voicemail via various pay phones. Drew seemed not to get the fact that Hurricane Frances Ate My Phone means No DSL. Thanks for the concern, sweetie. Dave, however, was more zen about it and left me a memo saying "Oh, okay, call me when you get your phone back." Someone else left me a mystery message all "YOOOUUU SUUUCKK," but when I called that number back, a confused stoned-sounding boy answered and couldn't tell me anything useful. So if that was you, let me know and we can discuss my suckitude.
I hacked at some trees. Due to shitloads of rain, every branch on every tree was all "fuck the sky, I'll turn my attention downward." This caused things like scratches on the roof of the car and on the top of my head. So I went out and lopped a bunch off. It took some doing because our tree-choppers (I have no clue what these things are called, but they have long wooden handles and a scissor-blade set that reminds me of a parrot's beak) are rusted and useless.
Also due to the shitloads of rain, I went out and caught myself some damn tadpoles. Five, in fact, with a net and a plastic cup. They didn't last long, though. Three died the first day, one the second, and one the third. Last time I did that, all I did was scoop the fuckers into a bucket, occasionally ignore them, and poke them. (I was ten. Shut up.) Yet they became frogs. This time, I scrubbed a fishbowl clean, added water purifier, gave them plants, everything, and no good. Maybe they thrive on mud? There was some mystery bug in there too, looking like a mix between a shrimp and a spider, but when I flushed the dead tadpole corpses I sent it down the loo too. I've enough insects around here.
I purchased two bettas at the pet store, and also got myself a membership to the Fancypants Dog Food Club there. The red fish is named Stansfield and he lives in a carved-out glass brick. The blue one is as yet nameless, and he lives in a round bowl. He needs a distinguished name. Suggestions?
Since our phones have been down, the vet office mailed me a memo about Riley's condition - all her bloodwork came back fine. They say it might be epilepsy, which means girlie isn't allowed to go to the disco anymore. I'm not too worried about that, although I'd prefer she didn't have the problem. She hasn't had another seizure since, and if they get more frequent, we'll just put her on pills for it. No biggie. I'm just happy it's not a sign of something else wrong. To show how healthy she is, she's been playing Queen Of The Chair with me and standing on my head.
Her birthday, by the way, was the twelfth. Yay Boo! One whole year old!
I read more of my thriftshop books - got most of the way through Aku-Aku before my constant eyerolling made me pitch the fucker to the floor. All that White European Imperialist Superiority really got to me. He referred to all the islanders' traditions as 'supersitition,' pulled tricks on them, called the non-white women 'vahines,' and bought priceless artifacts with cigarettes and booze. What. An. Asshole. I was interested in the research they did, but let the fuck up on the condescension, dude, and give with the science.
Also due to the rain (the standing water it left behind) every time I even look outside I get sixteen mosquito bites on my everything. If I wasn't so allergic to those fuckers, I wouldn't be covered in scabs, and I wouldn't be waking up with dried blood under my nails.
Now that this bigass hurricane is *not* hitting here (what good is in Alabama, anyway?) I can sleep better. I'm still going completely bugfuck stircrazy, though - a combination of not having my car and not having any way to communicate with the outside world is bad bad bad. It hurtses us, yes.
And I completely de-gutted what's left of Eddie. I now have bookmarks made from old memory sticks and if I can work it, a box for film cartridges made of an old power supply - with the fan, switch, and plug-in doowackey still in there. Heh. Ryan, I need to arrange a meeting with your Dremel. I'll bring some aerosol glue....
Now, what did I do?
I bitched. A lot.
I ran through most of the NWN mods I own. The ones with plot, anyway - I'm not big on the hack'n'slash. (Witch Wake 2, when will you exist?) Sola mod? Good. Harper's Tale mod? Good, but bloody HELL that's a lot of killing animals. And I kept mentally calling the prisoner dude "DentArthurDent."
I dissassembled a cabinet. That's not entirely true; what happened was the shelves inside fell down, so I had to remove everything and take them out and fuck with the pins. Turns out that the back of the thing has bent - curved, really - and now there's a big awkward set of shelves on the kitchen floor and a ton of pet stuff in need of a home.
I watched some movies. X2, Blade Runner, Mad Max, Pulp Fiction, and more Stargates - although those don't count as movies. What do we have in common here? Sci-fi, the old ultraviolence, and post-apocalyptic goodness. Mmmmm. I also shrieked like a banshee when I saw the kid in Mad Max was named 'Sprog' - I'd had no idea that's where the epithet came from. I was more upset about the dog, really... but you'd expect that from me. Soon as I saw that spaniel I knew it was doomed.
I threw hissyfits at Ethiopia, since that is where the storms that eventually become hurricanes begin.
I got crafty with a pair of pants: they were some old brown corduroys, circa 1978, I believe, thin-wale and bellbottomed. Now they're long shorts with some pretty red flowered faux-silk ribbon edging around the bottom. I got some more ribbon to do up another pair of jeans, but haven't got around to it yet. Fun thing: they totally forgot to charge me for the expensive stuff and as a result I got all my sewing crap for seven bucks. Whee. I also put little white applique-embroidered stars on the butt of a pair of black pants, on the little flaps over the pockets. The other jeans project involves the pair I think I was wearing the ENTIRE TIME at SquishyCon - the blue bellbottomy ones. I'm gonna put some mostly-black ribbon down the side seams. Fancy is good.
While sewing, I fixed my corduroy patchwork hat that Riley had seen fit to put a hole in. She just had to tear up the leopard patch, too. Is better now.
I've forgotten how to type, apparently. This is awkward.
I put together and shipped out a goodie box for Molly, who is the best person ever for not killing me because I'm stupidly late with mailing shit out. It has, as one would expect, goodies in it. I dropped it off at the airport post office late at night, and as it turns out the postman who stickered and stamped my box used to work at Molly's post office. He figured it from her address. There was also a cute guy - rather, cute but for the Young Professional look he had going - in line ahead of me, who kept staring at me out of the corners of his eyes. I think he was trying to count the rings in my ears.
Speaking of those - as I'm sure everyone wants to know about the holes in my head - the count is currently five objects in three holes. Four on the left, one on the right. I am so hardcore. The 14ga horseshoe barbell is in the right lobe, the 14ga CBR is in the left cartilage, and in the left lobe I have two cheapie silver rings (which are teeny tiny, unornamented, and a devil to get in) AND the silver bead stud. They look smashing together, in a hippie weirdo way. Most importantly, now nothing is poking my head or squishing my skin.
I made a bunch of postcards out of matboard, photographs, sketchbook paper, and pages of a 1950's bartending book that has completely given up the ghost. Sent one to my great-aunt Laine and another to Spricochet. It's very simple, really: get photograph, spray down the back with S7F7, affix to black matboard, let it dry, cut it out, write notes and addresses on white sketch paper, affix to other side of matboardcard with S7F7, add a stamp, stuff in the mailbox. They're thick because of the matboard and feel like daguerrotypes. I learned why they told us to never ever ever use scissors on matboard: the shit is so thick it's impossible to cut with scissors, since it Does Not Bend At All Ever. I hacked my way through eventually, so sorry, St. Katie, if the edges are raggedy. Katie got the Bartending Book page, for good reason, and Laine got the pretty sunset. Robyn, you're next on the list, but I need to find out how much postage to Canadia is before I stamp it. Mike, yours is waiting but the fucking Super Fucking Seventy Fucking Seven Fucking Can splurfled itself into death and won't stick anything anymore. Grr.
Anyone else want a funkadafied handmade postcard? All I need is more aerosol glue.
I found my bin of beads and jewelry oddments, and made myself a choker and earrings. They totally don't go together. The choker is made of some old Kuchi chain (from a pendant I got aeons ago at Sweet Charity) which is a sort of coinmetal copper-steel-brown, and very very pretty. I put some glass beads on jump rings and stuck them to the chain in three places. Tres delicate. The earrings are glass beads - one amber, one clear - that match in shape but not color. I 'loaned' the earrings to my mom, but she'll probably wind up keeping them. Fine with me; I've ganked tons of her stuff. In this bin I also found my wire and pliers, so I fixed a bracelet; it's a rosary-bead looking thing with garnets on.
I checked my voicemail via various pay phones. Drew seemed not to get the fact that Hurricane Frances Ate My Phone means No DSL. Thanks for the concern, sweetie. Dave, however, was more zen about it and left me a memo saying "Oh, okay, call me when you get your phone back." Someone else left me a mystery message all "YOOOUUU SUUUCKK," but when I called that number back, a confused stoned-sounding boy answered and couldn't tell me anything useful. So if that was you, let me know and we can discuss my suckitude.
I hacked at some trees. Due to shitloads of rain, every branch on every tree was all "fuck the sky, I'll turn my attention downward." This caused things like scratches on the roof of the car and on the top of my head. So I went out and lopped a bunch off. It took some doing because our tree-choppers (I have no clue what these things are called, but they have long wooden handles and a scissor-blade set that reminds me of a parrot's beak) are rusted and useless.
Also due to the shitloads of rain, I went out and caught myself some damn tadpoles. Five, in fact, with a net and a plastic cup. They didn't last long, though. Three died the first day, one the second, and one the third. Last time I did that, all I did was scoop the fuckers into a bucket, occasionally ignore them, and poke them. (I was ten. Shut up.) Yet they became frogs. This time, I scrubbed a fishbowl clean, added water purifier, gave them plants, everything, and no good. Maybe they thrive on mud? There was some mystery bug in there too, looking like a mix between a shrimp and a spider, but when I flushed the dead tadpole corpses I sent it down the loo too. I've enough insects around here.
I purchased two bettas at the pet store, and also got myself a membership to the Fancypants Dog Food Club there. The red fish is named Stansfield and he lives in a carved-out glass brick. The blue one is as yet nameless, and he lives in a round bowl. He needs a distinguished name. Suggestions?
Since our phones have been down, the vet office mailed me a memo about Riley's condition - all her bloodwork came back fine. They say it might be epilepsy, which means girlie isn't allowed to go to the disco anymore. I'm not too worried about that, although I'd prefer she didn't have the problem. She hasn't had another seizure since, and if they get more frequent, we'll just put her on pills for it. No biggie. I'm just happy it's not a sign of something else wrong. To show how healthy she is, she's been playing Queen Of The Chair with me and standing on my head.
Her birthday, by the way, was the twelfth. Yay Boo! One whole year old!
I read more of my thriftshop books - got most of the way through Aku-Aku before my constant eyerolling made me pitch the fucker to the floor. All that White European Imperialist Superiority really got to me. He referred to all the islanders' traditions as 'supersitition,' pulled tricks on them, called the non-white women 'vahines,' and bought priceless artifacts with cigarettes and booze. What. An. Asshole. I was interested in the research they did, but let the fuck up on the condescension, dude, and give with the science.
Also due to the rain (the standing water it left behind) every time I even look outside I get sixteen mosquito bites on my everything. If I wasn't so allergic to those fuckers, I wouldn't be covered in scabs, and I wouldn't be waking up with dried blood under my nails.
Now that this bigass hurricane is *not* hitting here (what good is in Alabama, anyway?) I can sleep better. I'm still going completely bugfuck stircrazy, though - a combination of not having my car and not having any way to communicate with the outside world is bad bad bad. It hurtses us, yes.
And I completely de-gutted what's left of Eddie. I now have bookmarks made from old memory sticks and if I can work it, a box for film cartridges made of an old power supply - with the fan, switch, and plug-in doowackey still in there. Heh. Ryan, I need to arrange a meeting with your Dremel. I'll bring some aerosol glue....
