Post-Cleaning Grumpery

Cleaning has ceased for the time being. The worst of it is done; now it's more a matter of finding a place to *put* everything. As a result, I'd like to ask the world at large to stop giving me things that take up space. I've made this request before, and it's gone largely unnoticed. This is why I dislike Christmas so much: I don't want anything.

Except food and computer upgrades. Heh.

Presently on my to-do list:

• Get a chair. This new bed is glorious but I cannot type or game at this relative height.
• Cull the remaining hoard of shite. I do not care if someone just got me something; if I have no use for it, it has no place here. Space is more valuable.
• Throw away my bloody CD jewel cases. Honestly, what are they even good for?
  
• Finally cash in on Tak's offer of computer upgrades. Will very likely pitch in myself and get a new setup altogether; something in this one is dying, and that simply will not do.
• Install and figure out how to use Illustrator. Har har.
• Finish the two active commissions I have and take the one waiting in the wings.
• Move the stuff in this room around. Remember what I said about needing a chair? There's nowhere to put one right now. *grumble*

And to think that I laughed when they said that Capricorns started off as packrats and then threw everything away for the sake of minimalism later on...

My Phone is Filing a Restraining Order

I've several things to mention:

Firstly, that Abney Park's "She" is a delightfully bittersweet and utterly addictive bit of music.

Secondly, that there is no greater hilarity in WoW than staging an excursion and making one's way into the ruins of Dire Maul in character, right down to unlocking the doors... and then getting a faceful of wall and an "additional instances cannot be launched at this time". Can't speak for Ms. Kos' colleague, but I was dying of laughter.

Finally, I've been cleaning for about twelve hours. Some notes regarding the highlights of the evening:


9:30 P.M. - Mothers are greeting dishes in much the same fashion as one does a friend they've not seen in years.

10 P.M. - Had to explain that the loud thumping noises emanating from the basement were a result of my beating clothes against the washer to get the dust off prior to washing. In retrospect, am contemplating doing laundry on a slightly more regular basis.

12:30 A.M. - ShopVac attempted to eat a fingerless glove. Have administered Heimlich and am now chastising it for poor dietary habits.

1 A.M. - ShopVac has made a second attempt at fellating the phone cord. Fairly certain that the phone cord was not particularly happy about this, going by what sounded like a high-pitched shriek of horror.

1:15 A.M. - ...that had better have been a shriek of horror.

And just because I can...

...here's a sketch of my newly-minted WoW priest. These guys never fare well with me; I quite literally have half a dozen priests abandoned from levels 8 to 48. It is my fervent hope that the fact that this one has goggles will endear him to me enough to at least break 50.


And a considerably messier sketch of my perpetually down-and-out rogue for good measure.

And lastly, I wonder who this could be...


(On unrelated notes--I have a spider guarding my windowsill against six-legged invaders free of charge, and this is utter earcandy.)

Souvenirs

I'll be a happy berk when pointed apathy goes out of style... but I have the uncomfortable feeling that at the rate we're going, the world will go up in flames before that happens. Humanity is far too much in love with its ugliest side lately--or perhaps it always has been, and it's just taken me this long to see it. Perhaps the light's finally been kicked out of me for the time being.

So, two souvenirs from my attempts at soothing the disgruntled Chala. See if you can guess which one frustrated the living hell out of me as I was working on it and which one fell off the pen.

I don't want to go on the cart!

I'm not dead. Really truly. I'm just a WoW zombie at the moment.

There is something else in the works on the art front, though. All I'm saying is this:

Mummies.

My Muse is a Jackass

Case in point:


Mebrit fumbled with the keys to his apartment, nearly
dropping them when he went to put them back in his
pocket. Upon opening the door and stepping inside, he was
almost entirely certain that he was hallucinating.

"Miss Kos," he called out weakly as he nudged Tiramisu
aside and shut the door behind Endrin, "why is there a dead
woman in the hallway?"

"Well, I was going to leave her in the living room, but she
clashed with the upholstery."

Time to start over...

Just to keep me from becoming cocky, NetHack decided (after I rolled up Mebby again because the thought of a patron god of afternoon tea-breaks amused me) that when I strolled down a set of stairs as a first level wizard, I should not only be displaced onto a neighboring spot and thus be unable to escape, but I should also be faced with the ghost of one of Miss Nori's previous incarnations, and an angry gnome packing a wand of sleep. Who then proceeded to zap and beat me about the head and shoulders until the wee tombstone graphic popped up.

(So if one was wondering why it took me seventeen years to beat this game...)