Strange Days....

So, the weird dreams seem to be contagious. I had a really weird one last night. This is what I get for hanging out with my friends, then reading some Transmetropolitan before going to bed.

It started out in a dark, icky warehouse somewhere in (I think) Fort Collins. Rev. Linus had decided to do the ministry thing for real and had started up a real live cult, which had become increasingly popular over the years. The government was super pissed and so was harassing them a lot, so Linus decided they needed to leave the US. He was making the announcement of where they were going to his followers in this warehouse. I wasn't a member of the cult, but I was there for the announcement for some reason. Linus was wearing this huge red dress-like thing and a comically large hat. Those were his cult clothes. He said that he refused to be a second-rate Jim Jones and so would not be setting up his town in the middle of a jungle in some other country. No, he was doing it bigger and better: They were going to a parallel dimension. Seriously. Then he unveiled the portal, which promptly crashed. While he and his techies were trying to get the damn thing back online, I decided to leave since I didn't fancy drinking poisoned Kool-Aid in some bizarre ass parallel world.

When I got outside the warehouse, I ran into Spider Jerusalem who asked me if I could help him out. He was looking for a one-eyed hooker for his friend's birthday party. Seriously. I said I didn't know any one-eyed hookers, but I'd seen an ad in the paper for a contest where the winner gets to poke a woman's eye out and asked if that might work for him instead. He said it would, then hailed a taxi. Then, his Filthy Assistants, Yelena and Channon, run up asking where the hell he went. I point at the cab as it disappears down the street. Yelena flat out refuses to get in a cab, saying that every time she does, she somehow accidentally ends up having sex with Spider (?!). Channon laughs and says next time she'll bring a camera.

Then I wake up. Weird, man.

I Ruin Everything I Touch

I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I mean this literally. Things fall to pieces around me. I was talking to Linus about this the other day and he suggested I have an entropy field around me. I think he's right. Some examples:

My apartment:
The day after I moved in, my toilet broke. It'll still flush, but I have to lift up the tank lid every time and make sure the flapper covers the hole. I've had two repair people come in so far and they still haven't managed to fix it. I've got a third call in and he should come to fix it today, but I'm not holding my breath.

The second week I was in my apartment, two sticky spots showed up on my carpet. I have no idea where they came from. I didn't spill anything, I wasn't cooking, I didn't track anything in on my shoes, they just appeared. Huh.

The rod that adjusts the angle of my blinds snapped off.

The arm that opens my crank window came off the track while the window was wide open. I had to pry the screen off the widown, lean way out and fix the damn thing. Then the screen wouldn't go back in. It took a few days of whacking it with a hammer. I hope no one notices the dents.

My Computers: I've had three viruses which required that I wipe my entire hard drive and start over. I've blown out two monitors, one of which was quite spectacular. It caught fire with no warning one night. One time, every time I turned on the computer the mouse started jumping around the screen and programs kept opening and closing like crazy. I went out and bought a new computer, which promptly started doing the same thing. Turns out the mouse was broken. D'oh!

My TV/VCR/DVD Things: I've blown out a TV quite spectacularly as well. I bought a brand new DVD player that would get half way into a movie and freeze. I swapped it for another one that worked until the day after the warantee expired, then apparently began taking a lot of acid. My current VCR actually works pretty well, which is enough to make me suspicious.

My Diskman: So far, I've managed to keep my diskman in one piece, but it isn't even a year old yet. My earphones, however, disintigrate after a few months.

My Body: I'm 23 and I'm falling apart. My arms, my heart, my girly bits, my head, and various other bits of me aren't functioning up to code.

My Car: I'm sure most of you know all about my car, since you've been giving me rides because it's always fucking broken. This did not used to be the case. Oh, no. For the two years that it was my mom's car, it worked perfectly, even though she drove it hard. The minute I became the primary driver, it began rusting, it got hit in a parking lot, and parts began falling out of it left and right. I've spent over $3,000 on it in the last 2 1/2 years. In fact, just this morning I picked it up from the mechanic and, $100 later, it's still doing the exact same thing I took it in for.

And don't get me started on the car I had before this one. It was not nearly as bad as this one, but let's just say that "Reliant" is a bit of a misnomer.

My Blogger: I wrote this post once, and when I tried to post it, it disappeared. "Recover Post" only recovered half of it. ARGH.

Apparently, I Am Doomed To Have Cats With Dumb Names

So, last night at 11:30, I managed to accidentally adopt a kitten three states away. Her name is Princess Rainbow Terrorist.

Okay, so this is how that happened:

A few years ago, my mom and her friends decided to start an no-kill animal rescue organization for our county because the local shelter was a kill shelter, and the local cops refused to enforce any animal welfare laws. So, they started this organization and it's become huge. Because they still don't have a central facility to house the animals, most of them are fostered by volunteers until they are adopted. We cannot foster animals. We always adopt them.

Anyway, last week some teenagers found a two-week old kitten who'd gotten separated from her mommy. They brought her to the Animal Rescue store (second hand and pet supply store they have to raise money for the organization) for help. Barbi, the lady who was in the process of closing up, looked out the front window and saw the teenagers and the kitten with a big rainbow across the sky. That's how she got the Rainbow part of her name. It was kinda late and Barbi couldn't find any foster people to take her right away. So, she called my mom, who, of course, said yes. Ever since then, she's been not-so-subtly trying to convince either me or my step-dad to agree to adopt her. My step-dad would have eventually agreed, because he's a big old softy, especially when it comes to animals, but my mom wore me down first.

So now I have a cat named Princess Rainbow Terrorist. The Princess comes from how spoiled she is already. We always spoil our animals, and since she is a cat it instills a sense of entitlement rather than a sense of gratitude. For instance, yesterday this kitten (who is smaller than my hand) kicked my grandmother out of her bed. The Terrorist part of her name comes from the fact that her favorite past time is terrorizing our American Eskimo, Angel. He's kinda high strung and anxious anyway and he's kinda freaked out by how small she is. She chases him around, sneaks up on him and jumps, runs up and bites his tail or leg, will suddenly puff up and hiss at him for no reason, and stuff like that. She's had to step up her tactics because he's slowly getting used to her. He won't run if she just calmly walks up to him anymore, which is good because sometimes she wants to cuddle with him. So when she wants to play, she'll trick him by calmly walking up to him and then suddenly puffing up and hissing or jumping off of the couch down onto him when he's trying to nap.

Pictures are forthcoming, of course.

And now for something completely different....

My Unitarian
Jihad Name is: Sister Machine Gun of Desirable Mindfulness.

Get yours.

In Kitty Pryde and Wolverine #4, Wolverine Tells The Following Story:

"There's a story people tell of the greatest swordsman in Japanese history, Miyamoto Musashi, of how one fine morning, in those younger days when he still wore steel instead of wooden swords, he came to a bridge only to find his path blocked by another samurai.
'The way, honored sir, is wide enough only for one. It is only fitting htat the lesser man step aside to let the better one pass.'
'Agreed, my friend. If you would be so kind as to do so, I shall be on my way.'
'It appears we have a difference of opinion...'
'...That only our blades can settle.'
Ogun threw down the gauntlet and as one, with blinding speed, two gleaming katanas leapt from their lacquered scabbards. For one minute, the men stood poised, their eyes locked...and then...they sheathed their steel, bowed, and went their separate ways, never to cross paths again.

A few nights ago, I was talking with the Good Rever--er, I mean Bad Reverend Linus about our Nerd Quotient competition. We came to the conclusion that we are Nerd Samurai and, like the Samurai in the story above, we can acknowledge that we are equally matched without resorting to violence (or endless rounds of blog posts, as the case may be). So, we've decided to bow and sheathe our swords.

See, I was confident that I could find something to out-weird the Prince of Tennis/Matrix crossover he found (I seem to remember something about a Catholicism/anime crossover out there somewhere), but then he threatened to break out the Spock/Kirk hentai, which they apparently publish professionally in Japan. However, I felt this was too far into the realm of fanfic and if we were going to open this competition up to fanfic, it could go on forever. I was tempted to mention some of the nerdy, weird, and/or downright scary stuff I've come across (mostly a result of hanging out at godawful.net), but I decided I would rather go home and go to bed than stay up until 3 am talking about all of the crazy shit out there. Hey, I had to get up early for work the next day, what can I say? Besides, if I'd mentioned anything about the infamous Celebrian fic, I might never have slept again.

Once Again I Have Beaten The Black Pope Into Submission (You Know You Like It, Linus)

So, on Linus' blog I was challenged to find a comic book crossover weirder than the Pirates of the Caribbean/Nightmare Before Christmas one he found. Lo, I have discovered just such a thing.

Archie Meets The Punisher. Yeah, you heard me. I think this may just be even weirder than the X-men/Star Trek ones I found that started this whole thing. Basically, Frank Castle chases an evil, evil villain who happens to look just like Archie all the way to Riverdale. Wacky hijinx ensue. They actually have a copy of this at The Grounds, if you want to read it.

Bow down before my supreme nerdiness!

The Cover:



Originally uploaded by Raksha38.