Sooo…still alive and all…things to come…

Posted: February 20, 2012 in Blogging, Gaming

Shocking, I know.

I’ve just not had much to say.  Life has been interesting and strange and, eh, inevitable and life-ish as it were.  Been pondering continuing on with my sexism in gaming series, just gotta set fingers to keyboard and all that- and yep, I plan to actually pick on the girl gamerz too at this point, cause often, they don’t help the dang situation.  In fact, that post will prolly happen real soon.

In the mean time…loving this song.  Thank you, Walking Dead…

 

 

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Comments
  1. xena says:

    I read somewhere once that February does that to most of us. I don’t know if the same is true in southern climes. It’s probably just as grey and mucky–if not quite as cold–where you are. At least that’s how I remember my last visit to Tennessee, Georgia area in late January. Not so sure about the Virginias or the Carolinas. I was there the following spring, and only for a few days.

    February sux where I am. Snow that was ‘festive’ in December and bright and blinding white in January melts and freezes into turdsicles in February. Dog poop soup turns into frozen nasties we have to gouge at with garden tools, or crunch through on the way to the car. Skies that used to be blue are now a wall of grey against the poor nekked trees that look as if they’re trying to claw their way out of the ugliness. Everything is brown&grey& crunchy. And biting cold. Even the squirrels and rabbits don’t want to go out in this.

    Yes, I get a bit of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I also get fat and disgusted with myself at this time of year. So it’s not an all-out cut my wrists kind of depression. Man, if I killed myself now, I’d look awful in my casket. I don’t think I’d want my friends’ last glimpse of me to be me looking like a moose anyway. It’s more a pissy-with-everything just-angry-enough-to-stay-warm-and-hopefully-shed-a-few-pounds kind of moodiness.

    And my sister’s in the hospital with Monster Fat (lipidemia). Her poor legs are exploding bc of nothing she did, and her durn fool doctor keeps trying to convince her to staple her stomach. Gross. My mom had health problems that made her rely on steroids that made her body explode, too. So every time I gain a few pounds, I lose it on myself. I can’t stand the thought that I may have inherited genes that could leave me a bloated cripple, too fat to get out of bed, too fat to stand up and fight, too fat to walk away, full of oozing, bleeding purple shark-bite looking ulcers, like ugly fat zombie guy getting dragged out of the well. Yuck!

    The extra chores are keeping me busy, at least. My daughter works 2 jobs and she’s never home, so I’m doing all the domestic stuff, caring for all the pets, and my son while the other adults are away. Unfortunately, we don’t get AMC here. Besides hoping Synaesthetik comes home soon so her pain will end, I also want her to set up our online Walkerfest. I think a good zombieblasting spree would be the only cure for this foul mood I’m in.

    • xena says:

      Much better. S is out of the hospital and I got my zombie fix. We’ll be adding AMC to our satellite deal in March so I can second that Thank you, Walking Dead without the youtube lag.

      And thank you, Ren, for curing my snowed-in, busted sattelite receiver boredom with this blog 🙂

  2. It’s 80 degrees and sunny here. Y’all should move to Texas.

  3. xena says:

    I wish, Pheeno. I tried that a few times last year. I’m housed now, but I’m still so po’ I can’t afford the r. Or a passport. Or the bank account reqirements to get a visa. It dawned on me last year when I was considering jumping the border for Slutwalk DC, sleeping at the feet of the Lincoln Monument might have made a lovely image for somebody’s political blog, but I didn’t particularly feel like taking a chance on dying to make my statement. I was homeless in the US for a few months as a teenager, btw. Contrary to popular opinion (my mom cried when I told her I was hitchhiking to the states–she thought I’d meet somebody like Ted Bundy and get killed) Americans at that time were only slightly meaner on average than the Canadians I met as a homeless teen. But I was hot at that age. I’m coming up on 40 now. I suspect things would be different for me if I paraded my chubby middle-aged self up&down the Interstate with my thumb out today. Canadians are certainly meaner after 30 years of right-slipping politics with their vicious neo-con poor-bashing propaganda at the forefront.

    I like blistering, soggy summers. And I liked being one of 3 over-dressed Canadians in shiny western shirts and ten-gallon hats in the otherwise empty pre-fire Gilley’s. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to visit the south again until I’m in a much better way financially. If I were to win the lottery tomorrow, I’d think about Texas or Arizona. I would seriously consider moving to Georgia. I loved it there. I met the nicest family in Calhoun. They’re at the top of my My Name Is Earl list of what I’d do with my lottery money. I’d set them up for life for the hospitality they showed me when I was young.

    Until that happens, I guess I just have to wait for the poopsicles to melt 😉

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