| THEY KEEP CALLING ME |
[06 Jan 2005|12:58pm] |
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joy division :: dead souls |
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I've been trying to find the time on my lunch hour for a couple of days now to get this genuine JEWEL of an avatar up and running. First, I clipped all the images I needed, then I set up the animation, then I jammed it all into my animation program, and....
BEHOLD:
Captain Howdy ain't got nuthin' on me.
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| HOW CAN IT BE OVER? I'M NOT DEAD YET! |
[06 Jan 2005|09:11am] |
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 good |
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Last eve, I indulged myself in a DVD that a friend had lent me. He said that he had rented it, watched it, and promptly decided that he had to own it. He bought himself a copy when he returned the rental to the video store. The movie.... Was Monster Man.
At first glance, I couldn't help but think of Carnasaur. However, my friend said it was much, much better and that a Horror fan like me would be pleased. I wanted to watch it right away (the cover tantalized me) but it was getting late, so I held off. Last night, when Lisa and her bf went to the mall to return some Giftmas crap, I popped the DVD into my player. Within about 15 minutes of the beginning of the film, I was in love with Fuckface and his Truck.
 
Now, don't get me wrong, this flick definitely boasts it's fair share of cheese. However, for a recently made attempt at a Horror film (HorrorCom would be a more appropriate classification), it's pretty decent as far as those things go. At least nobody has sex in the woods! The gore was incredible, and it was reasonably well-acted (with the exception of "Sarah", who looked about 43 years old under certain lighting). All in all, an immensely enjoyable film. The victims die in all sorts of ways, including Death By Monster Truck.
When Lisa and Justin arrived home, I actually watched it over again, followed by the episode of Family Guy in which Peter wishes he had no bones.
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| PLEASE USE THE DOGGY DOOR |
[05 Jan 2005|02:58pm] |
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depeche mode :: policy of truth |
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My Daddy was in town for a Doctor's appointment, so he stopped by the office to take my Mom and I out for lunch. It was nothing spectacular, we just hit the Jiffy Grill (a quaint little diner), but it's always good to physically get out during the day.
On the drive back to work, my Dad reminded me of an amusing parable from my past:
It was a deathly cold midwinter day, and my sister and I were just getting off the schoolbus. We were old enough to look after ourselves for the few hours before my parents got home, and we'd normally just let ourselves in the front door using my key. If, of course, I had the key.
I didn't have the key. At that time, my Grandparents lived just up the road a piece, but I was too embarrassed to go there. We had taken refuge there a couple of times already that winter, and my Grandmother wasn't the most sympathetic or understanding woman in the world. I can't quite remember now, but she must have said something nasty to me the last time it had happened, so Lisa and I decided to fend for ourselves. We decided to brave the bitter cold until my parents arrived home, approximately 2-3 hours later.
We took shelter in the dog house, as we didn't have a dog at that time. My Father had built the thing when we got our first dog, Sarah, and after we gave her to another family it sat empty for a few years. So, there we were, all nestled inside. It was a tight fit, as the dog house wasn't very big, but we managed. I remember we took off our coats in order to attempt to block off the doorway so as to seal out the icy wind. I don't know if it really worked, but it was as though we were caught in Farley Mowat's "Lost in the Barrens", so we were willing to try anything.
Seriously, we were so dramatic. I think we thought we were going to starve, so we dug into our backpacks and ate our lunch leftovers. The food (and shelter) was enough to sustain us until my parents finally arrived home (like, an hour later than usual). They pulled into the driveway and I would give anything to have seen their expressions as their two daughters came crawling out of the dog house.
Suffice to say, I don't think I ever forgot my key again. At least, not while I was still living at home.
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| GIFTMAS... JOISEY STYLE |
[16 Dec 2004|09:21am] |
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iron maiden :: living on a razor's edge |
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I am so much richer this morning than I was at this time yesterday, and it's all thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) tenebrouskate...
Your Giftmas Gift Extravaganza arrived, safely, in the mail yesterday. The postman is totally apologetic to us now that we've called The Postal Heat down on his ass. As it turns out, he was off on vacation during the "mishaps". The CD was awesome! You know I sang along to "The Devil's Whorehouse" and thought of you!
Mercy Buckets!
Now, hopefully you'll get all your shits before you're too old to enjoy them :)
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| YOUR POSSIBLE PASTS |
[14 Dec 2004|01:01pm] |
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mood |
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 not quite like "me" |
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music |
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pink floyd :: your possible pasts |
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Although I feel I've successfully housetrained myself with regard to posting song lyrics to my eljay, I am compelled to post these lyrics. I've loved Pink Floyd since The Wall (I'm an 80s kid, I hadn't even heard of "Darkside" yet), yet this song had been hiding from me completely until this past weekend.
Your Possible Pasts
They flutter behind you, your possible pasts
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost
A warning to anyone still in command
Of their possible future to take care
In derelict sidings the poppies entwine
With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Don't you think we should be closer?
She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile
Haunting, her face, like a cheap hotel sign
Her cold eyes imploring the men in their macs
For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs
Stepping up boldly one put out his hand
He said, "I was just a child then, now I'm only a man."
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Don't you think we should be closer?
By the cold and religious we were taken in hand
Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad
Tongue tied and terrified, we learned how to pray
Now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay
And strung out behind us the banners and flags
Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Don't you think we should be closer?
(From the album "Final Cut")
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| woah |
[11 Dec 2004|12:22am] |
well on my way to hammered. good times. cat pee. good, good times
i am waiting to use the washroom . this makes me have to pee my pantaloons less, i think.
wow. he's done. i go now.
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| |_ @ |\/| 3 |
[09 Dec 2004|01:24pm] |
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I'm not ready to say that this is the lamest thing I've ever read, but it ranks right up there. Why, oh why does my Jesus Freak Aunt continue to send me this garbage by email! As if a badly-written, poor excuse for a tear-jerker of a poem (all but plagiarized, no less) will change my outlook on life/religion/war.
Apparently, this little gem was written by a US Marine:
I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.
I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.
NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT , ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."
THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
I could pick this apart on soooooo many levels. In the interest of time, however, I'll just make a few stops:
1) "This life is my choice."
Sure, it was a choice - one of the only choices/options available to the poverty-stricken. Show me the guy who signed up because he thought having his legs blown off in a landmine would be "cool" and I'll eat my words, but I just don't think it's appropriate to use terms like "choice" and "freedom" in this instance. Kind of how we're told that we can make a "choice" as to who we'd like to run the country, but then that "choice" is basically between two carbon copy figureheads. Not really a "choice" anymore, is it?
2) "Guardian of Honour"
Note to Buddy - it's not "honour" you're guarding. I don't want to give it away, but it rhymes with "spoil" and it can be used to make petrol.
3) "Carry on Santa. It's Christmas Day, all is secure."
...Except for the child labour thing, and those who rape and murder children, and death by starvation, and caste systems, and teen parents, and child abuse, and murder, and robberies, and Alanis Morrisette.
WTF, d00ds? Can't they see there are more important things going on here? Where are all the Freedom Fighters while poor Ashlee Simpson battles for her life in the face of Acid Reflux Disease?
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| DON'T DREAM, IT'S OVER |
[09 Dec 2004|08:49am] |
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crowded house :: don't dream, it's over |
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"...But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're travelling with me..."
Hey now, hey now... I like Crowded House. They were a staple of my childhood, as I can remember watching the video for "Don't Dream, It's Over" on Video Hits (a CBC program in the 80s). Samantha What's Her Name hosted the program, and I can still see her sitting there next to the video monitor in her funky Le Chateau wardrobe. I can remember wanting to be her, thinking that she had the coolest job in the world. I really miss Samantha What's Her Name. She introduced me to the glorious empire that was 80's Pop.
Admittedly, the video for this song creeped me out a little bit as a little girl. I don't know that I fully understood the meaning behind the greasy, congealed-looking food laden plates that would fly across the screen in slow motion. The scenes from a 1950's-style family home conjured feelings of melancholia, though at the time, I had no idea why. None of that mattered, though. After all, how could a young lass deny the sweet, warming quality of Neil Finn's voice. I remember thinking that I wanted to marry him - bizarre, flying plates of food or not.
Hold me, I'm nostalgic.
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| WASTING ALL MY TIME |
[26 Nov 2004|03:30pm] |
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mood |
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 how the fuck did you do that? |
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iron maiden :: fear of the dark (live @ "rock in rio") |
] |
Christ on a rubber crutch! I had thought the accuracy of these to be amusing at best... Until I tried it myself!
This meme has me pegged to a shameful "t".
"They tell me it's easy if you do it right. I know tonight she comes."
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| WWGJS? |
[25 Nov 2004|02:55pm] |
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mood |
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 upset |
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music |
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david bowie :: little china girl |
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Q: Who would Gunship Jesus shoot?
A: Everyone.
(Yoinked from Mykeru.com)
Before you even ask, I tried to make an avatar of it, but you can't really make out Jesus after the resizing.
_____
Slow days at the office really depress me. I've got more time to traul the indie-media headlines, and looking at pics of Iraqi children with their arms, legs, faces, guts blown off/out are an unparallelled "bummer".
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| BOREGIVING |
[25 Nov 2004|11:54am] |
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Man, is it ever boring around here when all the 'Mericans go on lj strike in favour of turkey with all the trimmings!
Guess now is as good a time as any to wish all my south-of-the-border minions a happy (and safe) Thanksgiving. Enjoy your family, for it's the only one you've got. Eat heartily, for many are not able to. Remember what you've got and what you're thankful for, for so many people have less than nothing.
"Our" Thanksgiving is far superior, in my humble opinion. "Yours" falls way too close to Giftmas. Honestly, how much turkey can one really eat?
Now, I just got a whole pile of work from one of my comrades, so I best be scamperin'!
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| DESPERATELY SEEKING: BOOTS |
[24 Nov 2004|02:51pm] |
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mood |
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 more hardco' than the avg bear |
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DESPERATELY SEEKING: BOOTS!
I'm needing the advice of my Friendly Neighbourhood Shopping Mavens in order to track down and hopefully buy a pair of boots. I've searched high and low locally and I'm not finding anything to my liking, even though knee-highs have suddenly become the next big trend. I'm finding them all to be a little too Britney and not enough Comic Heroine for my tastes.
Please, send me links to your favouritest of shopping haunts!
Yours,
Barefoot Blackie (Lawless)
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| FELINE FUNNIES |
[18 Nov 2004|10:03am] |
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mood |
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amused |
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A man absolutely hated his wife's cat and decided to get rid of him one day by driving him 20 blocks from his home and leaving him at the park. As he arrived home, the cat was walking up the driveway.
The next day he decided to drive the cat 40 blocks away. He put the beast out and headed home. Driving back up his driveway, there was the cat!
He kept taking the cat further and further, and the cat would always beat him home. At last he decided to drive a few miles away, turn right, then left, past the bridge, then right again and another right until he reached what he thought was a safe distance from his home and left the cat there.
Hours later the man calls home to his wife: "Dear, is the cat there?"
"Yes", the wife answers, "why do you ask?" Frustrated, the man answered, "Put the little bastard on the phone, I'm lost and need directions."
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| HYPNOCATS: THE NEWBORN EDITION |
[18 Nov 2004|08:20am] |
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mood |
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 awwwwww.... |
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music |
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mew! |
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Follow the Baby Kitties with your eyes... You are getting sleeeeepy.... Veeeerrrry sleeeeepyyyyy.... You'd like nothing more than to take one of these kitties home with you today! Only $19.95 (plus shipping & handling).
( Baby Kitties On Film )
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| STILLS FROM "SAW" |
[17 Nov 2004|12:59pm] |
Harrowing. Rivetting. Pant-pissingly funny. I now present "Saw", as seen through the eyes of black_arachnia:
Ba-dum ching, bitches.
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| PSA'S AND SUCKING FLICKS |
[17 Nov 2004|10:15am] |
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mood |
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 moody |
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First and foremost, I am helping snooks to Get Out The Vote:
Help control the human population.
Have your friends spayed or neutered.
Next on my hitlist is the Bob-awful movie I went to see last night. Initially, I had heard really good things about SAW. However, as Movie Night approached, those good reviews suddenly weren't as overwhelmingly good. The final straw came when c0rrosion panned the flick in an lj comment to me, indicating that it was one of those Groaner Films in which the entire theatre joins in on the Haterade Rinse.
I finally decided that I'd give it a chance, anyway, given that it was Ch3ap T00sday and all. Well, d00ds, not even a 50% discount on the ticket price could have turned this suckbag into a winner. It was awful. Perhaps one of the very worst movies I have ever seen. Ever.
My overall impression of the film (i.e. that it sucked) is disappointing, as it actually had a lot of potential. Though I'd heard numerous comparisons to Se7en, I erred on the side of thinking that Saw actually carried a lot of it's own, unique elements and could have been a successful standalone film. But the acting... So, so, so bad. The dialogue... Positively frightful! It's actually tough to tell which is worse, the bad acting or the bad writing. It's that whole "chicken or egg" element coming into play.
Being writer/director James Wan's feature-length debut, I am optimistic. Like I said, the idea of the film was really very cool and he seemed to really know what he was doing with regard to what works in a scary movie and what does not. But the dialogue! The acting! As soon as the scene would flip back to the one-on-one stuff, it all fell apart. And Danny Glover... Dude! You should totally retire before you embarrass yourself any further!
A word to the wise - do *not* waste your hard-earned money on this film unless you are able to get Rightly Fucked beforehand and can therefore sit there through the duration of the film making Mystery Science Theatre-esque remarks to your friend who is about to pee his pants in a fit of laughter. Yeah. It was that bad. At first people were giving us dirty looks for laughing, but eventually the whole crowd was suffering a serious case of The Giggles. Everyone must have been sitting there thinking, "is it just me, or is it really this bad?"
It's not just you. It's really that bad.
Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD!
Baddycakes.
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| STRAY CAT SAGA |
[17 Nov 2004|08:43am] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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I'm thinking that I've been too busy this past week to properly share with you the Saga of the Stray Cat.
The stray that had been living with us for about a month got outside one night while I was taking out the recycling and didn't come back. I sort of took on a "woo hoo!" mentality, as the cat wasn't ours to begin with. However, Lisa was absolutely beside herself with anguish over what might have happened to Little Cat Long Cat. She even called the Humane Society to look for her, something I didn't agree with based on the simple notion that it wasn't our cat, so why were we trying to rescue it from the shelter?
Well, this past Saturday, the two of us were out for a walk and spotted the cat in almost the very same place we had first found her. It became clear to us that she had a home all along, and that we had taken her from it under the guise of 'saving her from starvation'. We petted the cat, told it we hoped it had a good life, and went on our way. But the cat followed us. She followed us for about 4 blocks until we finally managed to lose her.
Just last night, while Lisa and Justin were on their way out to the store, Little Cat Long Cat came running in the front door as they opened it. She was jubilant, "Yay! Look who's back, Shari!" I grunted. Great. We're now sharing a cat. I'm totally down with kitties, don't get me wrong, but this one pissed me off in the sense that she seemed to be using us. Eat our cats' cat food, sleep on our warm beds, and then bolt out the door not to bee seen for hours, days, or weeks. Regardless of how I felt, I didn't toss the cat out the door. She stayed the night with us, settling back in to our feline sanctuary.
When I got home from work last night, I didn't notice her hanging around. I greeted my two other cats (Lisa's two cats have been living with my parents since the Stray Cat Saga began), but she was nowhere to be found. I didn't worry about it too much, figuring she must have gotten out when Lisa left for work. I headed up to my room and didn't cop out on my workout as I had been planning (go, me!). I did what I had to do, showered, and hopped on the 'net for a minute. After Lisa got home from work, the night proceeded in a very usual way until Lisa realized that the Little Cat wasn't around. She asked if I had let her out, and I told her that I hadn't seen her since I'd been home. She looked around in a few of the cats' favourite hiding spots to no avail.
As we were getting ready to go see the movie, Lisa had to go into the spare bedroom to look for something. She shrieked and came running in to my room. "Shari! Little Cat has babies!"
She was afraid to look at them. Once, when we were very little girls, our cat had kittens and had eaten one of them. When we found her stash of babies, they were already a few days old, and we found a tiny paw at the bottom of the box. It was a pretty traumatic experience for a little kid, and I guess Lisa's never gotten over it. She suggested that we just close the door and wait for Ben to arrive so that he could bravely take a look at them.
"Eff that." I said to her. That was crazy talk. A 25 and a 23 year old, respectively, should be able to drum up the courage to look at a box of freaking kittens. I told her we'd go in and look together, and we did.
We found 3 perfectly happy, perfectly healthy, perfectly cute little baby kitties in the box with Little Cat Long Cat, suckin' at the teats. I took a few pics, which I will post tonight.
On one hand, "Doh! More kitties than ever!!!"
Yet on the other, "Baby Kitties!!!"
What's even better is that Oliver and Jack are being perfect gentlemen with regard to the kittens. The clearly know that they're there and aren't trying to bother them in the least. We've got the door to the room closed now, and my poor boys just sit outside looking sad. They wanna chill out with their step-babies.
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| PRAY FOR CHUBBIE |
[11 Nov 2004|03:50pm] |
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music |
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the cars :: you might think |
] |
Alice in Blunderland,
Your LiveJournal paid account for user "black_arachnia" has bonus features
expiring soon. In 3 days, your Extra Userpics will expire and you will be
reverted to the standard set of features included with your paid account.
If you're still using and enjoying your Extra Userpics, please renew your
subscription at the LiveJournal store:
http://www.livejournal.com/pay/
:*(
Don't they know that I'm in-between valid credit cards right now??!!?? Los Lobos Bastardos!!!
Since paying off my last cc, I've rec'd a new one from my bank (Visa this time. It's everywhere I want to be). I just haven't called in to activate it yet, as I'm turning it in for a better model, one that gives me BONUS points!
This may be the last time you see Chubbie Wayne Gacy alive.
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