***

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 

This story is not about lolcats, which would be surpsing if you know me. Hi. Im dana macguyver macgovern. I kno, 2 Mcs in a row is really lame lol, my parents were on crack lol. No not really. They just really liked that show w/ Richard dean Anderson Macgovern haha. All my life i have loved herman Melville. I just want to hug him and tell him its all going to be okay. I want to have his babies. One day I was thinkng about how romantic it would be and I realized that another romantic thing is pride and prejudice! That’s how I got the idea to combine pride and prejudice w/ hermy’s best novel, Moby-Dick.  That was the summer after my parents got devorced so I spent a lot of time sitting around thinking about romance and how to make it work. Did u know people thought moby dick was bad for many years? I wish I had been there to tell him how good it was. Anyway please read and respond.

Love

Dana

P.S. This story is dedicated to my cat who died and was named Melville. 

Chapter One:

Call me Ismael, even though my friends call me Ishy, because we are not friends. My real name is not either of those but in fact Dara McLofflin, but I changed it to Ishmael. I don’t want to talk about it today. I frist met Willy Darcy in 2090, on the shores of Topeka Kansas, which bordered the atlantic ocean because by then the ocean covered most of the world (Y’all need to start recycling J). He was leaning against a peer staring at me- no- glaring at me- he was totally hot, tall, dark, hot and handsome, with dark hair and blue eyes that could brood into your soul. He was about 5’7” and was waering a t-shirt that said “Guinness” on it. Even though I thought his shirt was inappropriate for the beech which had children on it which I knew because when I was a child I played on the beech with my father before he divorced my mother last summer, I was instantly attracted to him (this was before I was a dude) so I went up to him.

“I also enjoy Guinness,” I declared, “Call me Ishmael. I have just arrived here in this port of Topeka Kansas looking for a spaceship on which I can put my many spaceship maintaince skills to the ultimate test. This is mostly to get my mind off of bad things that have been happening to me lately that I do not want to talk about at all. What is your major?”

“My name is Willy Darcy, Dara,” he pronounced, silently, while scowling, “I am hear because there is a woman who is not handsome and I do not want to be around her even though every man of my rich stature must be in want of a wife. I would rather lean on this peer than look at her dog face, do you understand what I’m saying? Oh by the way I have studied economics.”

 “No. It’s Ishmael,” I rejoined. I could tell we would be fast friends. 

“I can tell we will be fast friends,” I articulated.

Darcy agreed wordlessly.

Chapter: Two

The Next Day

I woke up thinking what a jerk Darcy was. However I would remain friends with him because I am both true and loyal. In addition I am about 5’5’’ with long red hair down to my waist. I got up and brushed my teeth which were pretty straight considering that by 2090 there were no orthodontists because President Hilary Clinton banned them after the accident. I returned to bed to see Darcy leaning under the covers sexily. His clothes were on the floor scowling. “Good morning, sweetcheeks,” he frowned. “No, it’s Ishmael,” I reminded him, “Darcy, I want to stay friends, however as I told you when we met yesterday I am bording a spaceship whose mission is to hunt something whose nature is mysterious right now. You should come with me, I’m sure there is a place for an economist onboard.”

Darcy made a ‘hmm’ sound silently. “I guess I have had a lot of free time ever since the economy was abolished by HC. I guess I can’t spend it all just hating that dog faced bitch that I hate.”

“We both have pasts, but we will work through them together on the ship.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXRRRRRRRRRXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            It was time to board the ship, which was called the S.S. Jane Austen after some author who we no longer read because in 2090 it is possible to have great books downloaded directly into our minds through our iPhones (lol get it). The ship was about 5’4” and glistened like diamonds must have glistened before the diamonds were all melted down to make solar lamps. “This ship is so beautiful,” Darcy remarked, “it is roughly the exact opposite of what that dog-faced cuntwaffle Belizabeth Bennet would look like if she were herself a ship.”

            Suddenly there was a voice from behind us. “Excuse me!” it echoed. I turned on my heal to find myself staring into the face of a gorgoes woman whose hair was like mine blonde. Her shapely hips and large bosom were tucked into a steel jumpsuit which was the uniform of a captain. Specifically, a lady captain, which was the captain only of the ladies because in the future gender roles were really divided (thank you hilary Clinton). On her large right breast, partially concealed by her long red hair, was a small name tag which read “Belizabeth Bennet, Lady Captain of the U.S.S Jane Austen the Wahle Hunting Ship of the New United States of Post-Clinton New America.”

            “What a coincidence,” I thought to Darcy, “The lady captain of this ship has the same name of the woman you hate. But this can’t be her because she’s beautiful and not like a dgo.”

            “It’s no coincidence, Dara, that is Belizabeth,” he scowled, obviously disagreeing that she did not look like a dog.

            “No, it’s Ishmael. This is a comedy of  errors! ”I announced to Darcy, then I looked to Belizabeth, smiling sheepishly to alieviate the awkward-ness, “Who are you?”

            “I am Belizabeth Bennet, Lady Captain of the U.S Jane Austen the Whale hunting ship of the New United States of Post-Clinton New America (McCain ’08),” smirked Belizabeth, “as you can probably read from my name tag. Now, if you’ll ecuse me, my Lady Captain duties will not allow me to waste my time with you men.”

            As I walked away, I heard her mutter “jerk”, and I knew she was muttering of Darcy. Who scowled and began to lean his things onto the ship. I smiled and wondered to myself “Are black cats still bad luck in space?”

Chapter C:

The Male Captain

Darcy and I moved into our room together. He helped me put my bags under the bed. “I hope the Lady Captain bitch and whoever the Man captain is doesn’t think it’s inappropriate for us to live together.”

            “No, it’s Ishmael,” I reinforced.

            We turned a corner and there was an incredibly tall elderly gentleman who looked slightly crazy although I cannot say why. Even though he looked like he was about to come on to me in a way that would make me uncomfortable, I was glad it wasn’t Belizabeth, because Darcy always acted especially like a jerk when she was around. “jerk,” I muttered.

            “Avast ye!” the stranger bellowed “I be captain Ahab, Man Captain of this here fine vessel.”

            “Who are you,” I asked.

            “Arrr, I hate a whale,” he whispered, “the misson of this here vessel is to send it to a watery grave through whatever means necessary. Arrr davey jones’ locker. Dara, you must use your feminine wiles. Darcy, you must use your ‘conomics.” His peg leg, which he had, twitched.

            “ No, it’s Ishmael,” I told him.

            “And a less redundant question, dumbass,” I blushed when Darcy made that statement, “how are we going to find the whale?”

            “Arr, there be a grand ball at pemberly. My sources be telling me that the whale will be in attendance. Arr.”

ASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKL

Having met captain ahab, we set out a week later. He seemed suspicious to me in a literary sort of way. I asked Dracy what he thought but he just scowled and leaned against the porthole. “Maybe,” he told me without speaking. I looked at the porthole Darcy was leaning against, and I saw it looked like there were billions on billions of stars forming galaxies that looked like milk in my coffee, almost like some kind of creamy road through the sky. I thought about how small earth was in comparison to all that dairy in the sky, and in my brain, I wrote a poem, (copyright Gerard way and my chemical romance):

“And we can run, from the backdrop of these gears and scalpels

At every hour goes the tick-tock bang of monitors as

They stared us down when we met in the emergency room

And in our beds, I could hear you breathe with help from cold machines

Every hour, on the hour, they drew blood

Well I felt I couldn't take, another day inside this place

From silent dreams we never wake, and in this promise that we'll make

Starless eyes for heaven's sake, but I hear you anyway

Well I thought I heard you

Say I like you, we can get out

We don't have to stay, stay inside this place

Someday, this day, we kept falling down

Someday, this day, set the ferris wheel ablaze

You left my heart an open wound

And I love you for

This day, someday we kept falling down

One day, this day all we had to keep us safe

And if we never sleep again, it would never end

Well I thought I heard you say to me

We'll go so far, far as we can

And I just can't stay, one day we'll run away”

Had we been irresponsible with our little ball of water & dirt? Had we religuinshed the gift god had given us when we chose a leader who was not fit to rule?

Part Five:

We Are At Pemberly

Darcy scowled in a leonine way, “I hate balls, I mean, not that kind. Like dances. Especially when Elizabeth Dog-face is at them. But I will stay here if it means we will catch the whale and forget our pasts”. We were at Pemberly. “You haven’t even touched your freeze-dried pomegranite astronaut juice bar, with bacon’, I defined. I could understand that beneath his cold glare, Darcy was nervous. After all, Ahab had chosen to send us on this dangerous mission alone and keep every1 else on the ship as backup. We were undercover. I was dressed as a woman, which is odd, because I am a man.  Darcy was dressed as a clown, but I was worried his scowl would blow our cover. I was lost in these worries when I heard a voice, “Excuse me, you handsome, less than happy clown, but may I be so bold as to ask for this dance?” The DJ had just turned on Josh Groban feat. My Chemical Romance, which is an extremely popular remix in the future. I looked up and found myself staring into the gorgeous face beneath blonde hair of none other than the lady captain known by the name of Belizabeth Bennet!

“Belizabeth!” Darcy exclaimed in a voice that was distinctly jerkly and therefore easily recognized as his. I don’t blame him though because the shock made him forget he was undercover.

“Darcy, it’s you. I can’t believe I am attracted to you considering what a jerk you are; however I am, I can’t deny it. You have bewitched me body and soul. Will you dance with me.”

Darcy scowled, deep in thought. “You…” he hesitated, “… suck.”

Belizabeth smirked in a manner unbefitting a lady captain and stormed off.

 “Why did u do that?” I queried, “it’s insubordination.”

“Untrue, she only commands the ladies, thanks to the captainship amendment to the constitution put in place years ago by that president we don’t talk about.”

“You mean Hilary Clinton?” I responded

“Yes, I did in fact mean Hilary Rodham Clinton, who ran on the democratic ticket in 2008. People were foolish and voted for her even though they knew she would pass that horrible amendment,” he inspirited, grimly.

“Let’s not talk about about it. She might have been sending us an important message from the captain. Go after her, apologize, and get the message.”

At first Darcy insisted “no”, but eventually I convinced him in a way I can’t write about ;).

But I came to a realization. Captain Ahab had specifically sent only us on this mission and left everyone else as back-up. If Belizabeth was here, it could only be 4 one reason- SHE WAS THE WHALE !!!

            “I’m gay,” Darcy exclaimed.

Scene Nine:

The Finale

So: Elizabeth was the whale. I knew what I had to do, all by myself because I was a strong woman, or would be if I were not in fact a man, and because Darcy is a jerk. Even though he is a jerk though, I didn’t want to leave him alone with a dangerous whale that had taken away Captain Ahab’s leg and is now a lady captain. If I ever wanted to get revenge and forget about my past, I would have to harpoon my own Lady Captain.

            Back on Mars, I ran quickly over Olympus Mons, the highest mountain in the solar system, which I had learned about actually in school the very day my dad picked me up early to get me to read over some papers about mom. Near the top of the mountain, I found Darcy and Elizabeth making out in the space rain on the space moor. “Darcy!” I warned loudly, “Get away from her! She is not really a dog-faced lady that you are making out with, but really a whale!”

DARCY: But, I love her!

ME: But, a whale!

BELIZABET: What?

ME: Whale!

DARCY: I love her!

BELIZABETH: What?

DARCY: I LOVE YOU!

Me: A whale!

BELIZABETH: I love you too!

Me: A whale!

Me: A whale!

Darcy: A what?

Belizabeth: A whale!

(Then I harpooned her while she was distracted by my wordplay.)

Her tail lashed wildly at the air, swatting the majestic face of the mountain and causing an avalanche. Darcy leaned against a tree for safety. I looked sadly at the two lovers, but knew it was for the best. Darcy fell to his knees, “No, Belizabeth, don’t die! I want to marry you!” Belizabeth blushed as she smirked out a mighty roar, “I’m losing a lot of blood, and also I might die of consumption. After all, it is raining.”

I realized that, like many of Herman Melville’s characters, captain Ahab was crazy, and that maybe the space psychiatrist I had spoken to once was correct in saying that my affection for him was created to fill a void that was in my life maybe. I helped Darcy lift Belizabeth and carry her back to the ship. I rubbed space Neosporin on her woundz and kissed her. At that exact moment there, Captain Ahab rushed in his craziness all unzipped. I did not see  him as the kindly man I once did. He pushed the red lever on the wall and everyone on the ship who I had not introduced because they were not really important to the story screamed wherever they were which was not where I was because if they were I would have described them. The ship rocked back and forth erroneously and I called to Darcy who was only a foot away from me, “Quicky! Use your ‘conomics!”

Leaping to the hull he pressed various buttons and dials with a rougish confidence that I and Belizzy both found very attractive. Possibly ahab too because being crazy he may have also been a homosexual which is not normal, because they are only 4% of the population which is not very much and it is a disease (McCain ’08). He grabbed Ahab’s fairy face and smashed it into the control panel multiple times, breaking his crow nose and ugly cheeks. “Eat conomics Herman McGovern”. The water that the lever had put into the ship flushed out into space. Also the fire went out and the life support came back on.

PAGEBREAKPAGEBREAKPAGEBREAKPAGEBREAKPAGEBREAKPAGEBRE

(This is a page break that separates this part of the story from another part of it)

Now I throw a handful of rice into the air, where it floats because there is no gravity in space. Belizzy, who now that she has come out as a Whale has taken the name Marouska,  looks beautiful in her dress. Her and Darcy walk out of the wedding chapel smiling and laughing and very lovey with their each other. I smiled as a tear fell from my eye and immediately froze and floated away because we were in space. But then my next tear fell and landed on a white rose that was being carried in a dove’s mouth as it flew on its way to heaven where angels live and no one is ever away from her family. A dark time had ended and Captain Ahab slept with the fisses. “Thanks for making my dream a realty, Ishmael,” said Darcy.

            “ No, it’s----“ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

THE END. 

***

To have facilitated the distribution of Dana's work across cyberspace is an honor that brings tears to my eyes.

- Gothicus Maximus  

I was in pain while he was talking.

A matter of minutes ago, I finally managed to track down Act III of the fabulous 'Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog'. This little bit of internet viewing nevana is created by the one and only Joss 'Buffy' Whedon, and the official site can be found at http://www.drhorrible.com/, but I missed i when I could watch Acts II and III for free and had to youtube it. I guess the closest thing of Whedon's other work that it can be compared to is that fantastic musical episode of Buffy. The one where they all suddenly break into dances and heartfelt musical numbers, as if you could get such a thing mixed up with another episode. It's a rather tongue-in-cheek tale of a wannabe evil genius (Horrible), fawning over a sweet innocent girl of a love interest (Penny), and his campaign against his arch-nemesis, Captain Hammer.

I love how Whedon portrays geeks (although Dr. Horrible isn't quite as much as a nerd as Jonathan, Warren and...that other one), and he should really think about doing more musicals in such a tone, they're so much fun!

In today's film news, Guillermo del Toro has signed up with Universal to make them 4 films (all based on novels). After he's all done with a little film called The Hobbit, mind you, which looks set to take up the next 4 years or so. But all the same, GDT is GDT, and two of the films he's set to direct are Frankenstien and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. How cool is that?! It's perfect GDT territory, and I'm sure he'd be able to do so a fantastic job on both.

The other two is an adaption of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five, which I haven't read, but is some sort of WWII/Sci-fi thing...I'm intrieged... and the other is a book by Dan Simmons that has yet to be released named 'Drood' about the last, dark days of Charles Dickens, that mixes fact and fiction together. 

I really love del Toro. If you haven't watched Pan's Labyrinth, go do it now.

Why are you still here? GO!

And for everyone that has seen it, well done, you are worthy. And this completes today's film-related geek out.

Please baby Jesus and all you other divine beings, please make it stop! I-I just can't take it again, not again, please...

*sob*

X-Factor is back, along with its deluded followers (most of whom have no career plans beyond entering X-Factor and winning it - which is depressing and sad in equal measure), it's vile, vile, GOD AWFUL judges, most of whom wouldn't know a genuinely talented singer from another wailing drone from the planet Pantene, and the unsettling knowledge that where X-Factor treads, soon the rest will follow; Strictly Come Dancing (could benefit from the introduction of summary executions), Celebrity Brain Surgeons (if only), and of course, I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here (when will something venomous actually make it into one of their sleeping bags and give us the entertainment we so deeply deserve? When? WHEN?)

And what makes me mad, is the fact that people I actually love and respect ENJOY THESE PILES OF PUTRESCENT CRAP!

Of course, I have deliberately ignored the most obnoxious of all these shows; Big Brother, mainly because they have still failed to observe my suggestions - you know the ones involving the introduction of LSD and quietly whispered threats into the house, the unleashing of angry bees, and the addition of a celebrity house mate who is also a psychotic murderer.

Please God, make the bad TV men stop. Please. PLEEEEEEASE!

     Magic Towels are little things shaped like an animal, or a person, that you put in warm water and it turns into a towel.  I don't see anything MAGIC about it, but I suppose it keeps the 5 year old's entertained with out giving them violence, drugs, and prostitution on TV.  

     But, this did not entertain me one bit.  It was one of the least favorite things I have ever done with my 4 dollars, and unless I get millions of views for this video, I will never do it again.

     But the truth is, that is is kind of cool, and I really did enjoy making this video.  I haven't used these rags yet, but I'm sure they will come in handy with a bleach spill.  Please watch the video.

Comment, Rate, Appreciate!, and subscribe.  Don't forget to subscribe.  YouTube.com/VideosbyKM

YouTube Video URL - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2E_uWFbess

-KM.

NOTE:  COMMERCIAL USE IS PERMITTED, PRIOR CONTACT IS REQUESTED.  

Magic Towels by Videos by KM is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at vbykm.wordpress.com.
 

Warning: A lot of these pranks are a bit juvenile and some of them can get you banned from ever coming back to the restaurant (it has happened).  Seriously think about it before trying and do not do it if it is too extreme.  Some of these even I will not do.

Waiting

Some restaurants force you to wait.  This is a perfect first opportunity.

• If calling ahead for reservations, call with a complicated foreign name or almost dirty sounding name (careful, some may hang up thinking its a prank call).
• Or, even better, say it like "Ka-Noots," but then spell it "K-N-U-T-Z" even if they don't ask you to.
• When you get called, chances are it will be someone other than whoever answered the phone.  Make sure you make a big deal out of him/her mispronouncing it.
• Tell them your party is twice as large as it is, and the others are still coming.  Sit separated from each other as if the others will show up soon.  When you order deny you ever mentioned your party was larger.
• Have your entire party bring handkerchiefs.  Cough, sneeze and wheeze into them, pretending to fill the entire waiting room with germs.

Ordering

Chances are, your waitress/waiter is used to quirky people.  That's why you have to take it up a notch.

• When ordering drinks, make sure you express a lot of interest in the soup du jour.  Ask the waiter about every ingredient and act as if you are savoring it.  When ordering the food, forget all about it.  Ignore the waiter when he mentions it.
• When the drinks come, switch orders with your party.  Pretend that you ordered the iced tea and your friend next to you ordered the Coke.  Make sure you make the waiter do all the switching of glasses.
• Try to see if you can order an entree as an appetizer.  Insist on it.  When it comes, wait for everyone else's entree to come before eating.
• Insist on seeing the dessert tray before you order an entree, even if the restaurant doesn't have one.
• If there are a lot of people in your party, have one person order something and have everyone else, one by one, say they'll have what he's having.  Each time, he'll have to make a new number on his pad.  Likely, the waiter will have to check if they can serve that many of a particular entree.  Even if he comes back to say it's okay, have the first person change his order and, one by one, have everyone else change their order to that entree.
• Try to use coupons for fast food restaurants (for things your restaurant has), like free coffee or medium soda.

At the Table

Sometimes food can still be a long way off at this point.  Try to see how much you can get away with without being kicked out.

• Everyone fall asleep at the table.
• Go through all of the bread in the shortest amount of time possible and keep asking for more.
• Play the Left-or-Right game with waiters and waitresses carrying trays of plates and meals.  Basically, walk through the aisles aimlessly until you and the waitress are walking toward each other.  Try to block her path by figuring out which side she means to pass you on, and then walk towards that side.  Then switch simultaneously with her.  See how long this can go on.
• Take out McDonald's Happy Meal toys and play with them at the table.
• Be loud and obnoxious until the manager comes out.
• Light stuff on fire with the candle at your table.
• Play sword fights with the bread sticks.
• Have one member of your party change into a grim reaper costume in the bathroom.  When he comes back, have him stand behind another member of your party for as long as possible.  Have everyone ignore him completely.  Either stay there for the remainder of the meal and exit with the rest of the party, or have a watch alarm go off and walk out alone.
• Transform the table into a mobile office.  Do your best to bring laptops, land line phones, a cork board with papers and pictures tacked on to act as a cubicle wall, pen cups, staplers and as much other stuff you can think of.
• Take out food you brought with you and start eating it.

Eating

Here is what you've been waiting for.  Hopefully, you haven't completely filled up on bread.

• Make "OMNOMNOM" noises as you eat.
• Ask for extra napkins (if paper napkins).  Hide them when you get them (most restaurants give you hundreds to begin with) and ask for more.
• Treat your non-paper napkins like tissues.  Blow into them very loudly.
• If you are a man, ask for the ladies' room.  For a woman, ask for the men's room.  Do not make it seem like you are asking for someone else.  Then, go to the correct room (they're usually near each other anyway).
• Take a blender from out of your bag, find an outlet, and puree your food.
• Wear rubber gloves while eating.
• Drop anything you can find at your table into your drink.
• Count every french fry and complain that "there are only 56 fries.  Last time you gave me 61."
• Don't eat any of your food, have it wrapped, and have the waiter send compliments to the chef.

Paying and Tipping

The waiter and management thinks this is their big payoff, but it's actually your big payoff.

• Sign your name as something goofy on the check.
• Doodle all over the merchant's copy of the receipt.
• Tell your waiter the mints were the best part of your meal.
• Instead of the pen they provided, use a pink pen.
• Better yet, use red ink and mark the check with a circled "C+," noting all the poor quality foods on the check itself, and marking "good improvement" on the bottom.
• Leave the waiter grocery store coupons for tips.
• Leave the waiter a gift card for the restaurant you are at, if they have one.

The Exit Prank

Only do this once you are ready to leave.  I'd advise against actually doing this because the ensuing chaos could be dangerous and I am pretty sure it is breaking some law.

Disperse your party amongst the restaurant's empty tables.  Before any of the wait staff realize this, walk a few steps into the kitchen so that you cannot be seen by anyone.  Count to five slowly in your head, and once you have reached five, come out and scream "Someone has poisoned the soup!" at the top of your lungs.  At this cue, have everyone else in your party scream and run towards the exit.  Hopefully, the entire restaurant will do the same.

This is my most epic post ever

Now normally, a woman without a bra on can be a good things, especially considering that most young people have pretty good boobs. Unfortunately, young people usually wear bras to keep some modesty, making the men do the chasing to get them off. Fair play. But why the heck to old women think it's suddenly acceptable to wear the worlds thinest shirts or whatever they like and wear no bloody bra!? It makes everyone want to puke. You see an old woman, waddling along, her boobs almost smashing into her face, and then you can see the tits, and you don't know where to look. Do you try and avoid looking? Well yes, but you can, but the chances are these things will be swinging into your face in a few seconds. There was some point when these old women decided bras were no longer needed.

This doesn't just count to old women who make wrong choices about clothing. Fat people also take the award for most disgusting.

That now oldish craze of superbly tight jeans hit emo kids quickly. Then it started to spread into the main stream and before you know it, everyone was wanting to wear them. Right on que, the fat people put them on, and thunder thighs were born! Being able to see every single horrible roll of fat makes me want to puke. Every time, wanting to puke. This stretches past just jeans and goes for all clothing types. [ALLCAPS] WE DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR ROLLS, ANYWHERE [/ALLCAPS] The only place i want to see them is if I was starving in the mountains, and you were my only food source. Even then, I would have the make sure that I was blindfolded whilst I cooked the fat rolls.

Remember people, wear the right clothes for your body type.

The Glogge-Egge is part of the Glockenhof Restaurant and Hotel, positioned as a bar with a small selection of things to eat. I like tables in the shade on busy sidewalk and that was just what I got. Menu was very small a couple of salads, some swiss classics that's it.

As my first meal out of bed after a night at the Langstrassefest I needed some fluids. I opted for an espresso, a coke and an orange juice. Espresso was more of a small coffee and the orange juice was neither fresh nor chilled. I ordered the soup of the day (onion soup with bread croutons) and Bratwurst with onion sauce and roeschti. The onion soup was strange, I liked the taste but I'm not convinced that it was a fresh soup, the onions were fresh though, but too soggy. It lacked cheese, I really would have liked to see some cheese on the onion soup and the croutons were very normal. The real disappointment was the bratwurst and the röschti. Quite simply put, the bratwurst was dry, there wasn't enough onion sauce on the plate and the röschti was horible . It reminded me of the roeschti I had in the army, the add 3 liters of hot water and let the freeze dried potates. I'm guessing the cook was out on Sunday and the dishwasher was cooking or even worse, the restaurant decides to cook with prepackaged convenience food. Prices see below:

But I'm afraid I won't finish my summer work. XD

Yeah, that'd pretty much suck REALLY badly.

It's Sunday, School starts on Wednesday ...

This woman actually doesn't believe a woman should have rights to abortion - even if rape and incest created "a life".  Err?? I'm sorry America ~ a woman's body is her own.  Alaska is the rape capital of the nation.  The stories are HORRIBLE!! Look them up and read them.  A woman is literally a piece of ass up there ~~ even if "it" is uninvited. 

Now, she SUED the Bush Admin. ~~ ALL IN THE NAME OF BIG OIL!!!! F-ck big oil....stupid woman.  Chain reaction people -- the brink is near and guess what -- the Alaskan area is riddle with UNKNOWN VARIABLES OF FAULT LINES and VOLCANOES.  Wow ~ In one earthquake alone ~ A stone jetted up from the ocean ~ 6 to 9 feet!! That was just on the coastline. What happens on land?   

Back to everything else ~ First and foremost ~ I wasn't voting for McCain and whoever the running mate was going to be ~ Second and lastly ~ Should this nation actually choose this ticket ~ oh man ~ bad to worse AND THE POSSIBLE PRESIDENT WON'T EVEN REMEMBER IT!! ha!!  (Sounds like the 5th Amendment would be used a lot.)

NEVER AGAIN! This is the most unprofessional, sloppiest venue I've ever been to for a music event.

-Lines on the left side of the block all the way around the corner

-Lines on the right side of the block all the way around the corner

-Huge crowd of people just standing infront of the main entrance for no reason because no one was getting in

-Cops closed off both sides of the streets, yet you can't walk on the street. Only to cross.

-Soon as you step 1 foot on the street by mistake to get up the block because theres too many people crowding the sidewalk and you can't get by, some rent-a-cop or cop yells at you to step back up on the sidewalk.

-Two entrances...two lines...for no reason.

-Walked around looking for someone to talk to for about 15 minutes, no luck because they kept walking away.

-I stand on the smaller line on the right side of the block which leads to the smaller door which seems to be the VIP door apparently so it makes sense. So I leave my cousin to stand there while I find someone to talk to.

Finally find one dude:

Me: "I work at the label, I have a blue wrist band and a ticket, which line do I stand on?"

Staff: "You can just walk in"

Me: "Okay cool, do I have to show them my work ID because I don't have one
?"

Staff: "You're asking too many questions"

Me: WTF?! ...whatever. Walked away.

-Tell my cousin to get off line and walk up with me because we can get in.

-Walk up to the VIP door, talk to the bouncer:

Me: I work for the label and I have a blue wrist band, the guy said I can just walk in.

Dickhead Bouncer: I'm going to need to see some ID

-I don't have my work ID yet. So I walk back on the line...which is now longer than before.

-Now I'm tight. It's 9:45, at 10 if I'm not around the corner, I'M OUT!

-Get a call from my homie Furlong who would be holding down the door IF THIS WAS A RESPECTABLE AND ORGANIZED EVENT HANDLED BY THE LABEL PROPERLY WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN! and he tells me to come back, the guy he just talked to said that we can walk in with the wrist band. I tell him to stay with dude and I'm going to walk up there so you can tell him who I am when I walk up.

-We get off line again and walk up. Furlong tells dude and the dude says to follow the line, just walk in and follow the line...the line which is now just a crowd of people all going in different directions so there is no line so we end up hopping from 1 line to another about 5 times back and forth before finally just standing on 1 line, none of which are moving at all.

-WHERE THE FUCK IS ANYBODY FROM THE LABEL?! WHY THE FUCK IS THERE NOBODY HERE?! THIS IS BULLSHIT!

-I see one of the staff ladies telling the Dickhead Bouncer I talked to before that a group of people had wrist bands like mine and to allow them in.

-I walk up to said lady and explain my situation to her and she tells me the same thing everyone on the staff has told me yet again, to just walk in.

-So I stand behind the group of people as they wait to get in and its about 8 of them, as we're waiting more people keep walking up and the bouncers are getting more flustered and telling people to back the fuck up.

-The people infront of me are walking in and right when I'm at the door the Dickhead Bouncer says "thats it".

Me: Huh?! I just talked to the lady, she said to walk up to you, I have my ticket, I have my ID, I have my wrist band...

Dickhead Bouncer: I don't care, thats it. You can talk all you want, you're not getting in. They're staff.

Me: Dude...I'm staff, I work for the label! I have everything, they keep telling me to walk up to you and tell you to let me in.

Dickhead Bouncer: No, you're not getting in. Thats it. Go to the front door and try to get in with your wrist band over there.

Me: You know what...Fuck this. I'M OUT!

The only reason I even stuck around for that nonsense and excersize in futility was because my cousin had never seen Nas perform live, so I wanted to bless him but clearly NO ONE was going to see Nas perform because letting people WHO HAVE TICKETS AND PASSES WALK INTO THE BUILDING wasn't on the agenda for that piece of shit establishment. I swear, never again am I fucking with Webster Hall. I'm leaving that shit up to the ONION HEAD BASTARD Guido's from Jersey. Fuck that place.

Whilst walking past the paper table in work, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Yup. Unless you didn't get that,

Brought to you by the most Conservative, anti-Paedophile rag ever to hit your newsagent's shelf, we have Tom Daley's secret sexy photo gallery.

What's that? Derek Stillie accuses The Daily Mail of being all-round dirty old men and fucking paedo cunts only 3 days before this article went to print? Damn fucking right.

The Daily Mail, The Daily Mail's readers and all contributors - you disgust me.

The only people who should be interested in Tom Daley are girls aged 12 to 14. No one else.

Revolting.

Goodnight, tools.

DS

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

In this installment of the Fast and the Furious, Dominic and his gang hijack another truck filled with valuable goods (gasoline) in order to sell it all so they can overnight parts from Japan, SICK!  This is just like the first film, minus the driving under the trailers and the neon clad Honda Civics. Wasn't I at a loss for words? They can't be serious about this, watch it and make up your own minds about this ridiculousness.

UPDATE: We were able to work out a good situation for Wyatt's care. It is good for Wyatt, but it involves other sacrifices, like me waking up at 5 am to work at 6. Whatever works, I guess.

Rachel and I went to the very conveniently located and very cool looking Castleland Academy. All themed-out in Disney decor, this place looked just perfect. And it really felt great. We were convinced that the conveniences offered such as transportation from his elementary school to their center, a kindergarten extension program that would further enhance his learning, would really work out perfectly. We signed the paper work a week later and with Wyatt's school beginning tomorrow morning (8/25), we were hoping for the best. As we were winding down for the night, Rachel happened to check her inbox and found this cowardly and unprofessional notice:

Rachel,

We regret to inform you that we cannot accept Wyatt for enrollment at this time.  When you came in for a tour we were unaware that 2 of our already enrolled Kindergartners were going to be staying and it has always been a policy of ours that enrollment is first offered to already enrolled students before new students.  Also when you came for a tour we were of the understanding that he was on the 9am track at [his school] in reviewing your enrollment documents I noticed that he is not and we DO NOT Transport this track at [his school].  We have refunded your $20.00 paperwork fee via certified mail which you should receive shortly.  I am also listing the other 2 centers in American Fork that might be able to help you.  Sorry for any inconvenience & Best Regards to your family!!!

Cowardly because this was sent by email earlier this evening. Unprofessional because who in the world is running your center? How are you "unaware that 2 of our already enrolled..." yadda yadda...?? Also, we were very clear with what track he was on. We had just come from a meeting where we had to get Wyatt's track/schedule since it wasn't originally mailed by the school. I am happy that they are sorry for an inconvenience, but give me a break! This is no measley inconvenience. This throws a gigantic monkey wrench into our entire lives! Now we have to go through and re-screen these local daycare centers that if it was, say, even 3 days ago, we would have been 100% better off.

Tomorrow is Wyatt's Go-Live date and we are so incredibly happy and excited for him. And since our lives can never go smoothly, how could have we expected this huge step for Wyatt and the rest of us to have gone any better? I am convinced that Heavenly Father will come through, as He always does. But for Heaven's sake!!

Such is life. We will keep you updated. Meanwhile, please make sure you NEVER consider Castleland Academy in American Fork, Utah for your children. Never.

-Timmy

Han muerto dos mascotas muy queridas, mis pensamientos, que no han sobrevivido a mi viaje a Paris sin agua, y el magnifico ejemplar de pez naranja de Javier primo.

Estas defunciones nos sumen en un luto que se mantendrá hasta el día 15 de Septiembre.

Un pez naranja, el de Javier primo, que vivió muy feliz hasta el fin de sus días, en aquella, su pecera roja, a caballo entre Albacete y Cartagena. Me considero un afortunado por haber compartido con él una de sus últimas tardes. Que feliz se le veía. Quien iba a sospechar que días mas tarde encontraría a la muerte en su camino. Un pez joven, gran amigo y  mejor persona. Su cuerpo nos abandonó camino del wáter, pero, qué menos, Javier primo y yo oficiaremos un íntimo funeral en honor de su alma.

Su dueño y yo decidimos ayer que enterraremos al pez en la maceta de mis difuntas flores, las cuales descansarán allí también hasta el fin de los días. Plantaremos unas nuevas semillas en su honor.

Javier primo se está esforzando en confeccionar un ataúd a la altura de ese gran pez que nos ha dejado. Al funeral, sólo acudirán las familias de los desaparecidos, pues así lo habrían querido ellos, y un reducido número de amigos que disfrutaron, en vida de la amistad de estas dos magníficas mascotas.

La ceremonia se celebrará en cuanto Javier primo vuelva a Cartagena, y considero un honor que la tumba permanezca en mi ventana, a fin de poderle ofrecer el cuidado y la limpieza que se merece.

Más adelante os anunciaré la fecha exacta del funeral, o bien aquí, o bien en Radioboniato.

Descansen en paz. Se ruega una oración por sus almas.

Hasta la próxima. xD

So, as I mentioned yesterday, I remain unemployed on this fine island, so far from home.

Yesterday, after an interview with a temp firm that deals only with the media, I realized that, successful as that may have been, it was temporary work, and I was quickly running out of options.  So, I decided to take a pub owner up on his offer to come in for a trial run/interview type thing.  

Basically, I'd give free labor for two hours (demonstrating my abilities rather than talking about them, interview style) then I'd get to drink for free for the rest of the night, if I wanted to stick around, and um ... yeah, I ended up sticking around.

I was initially greeted by the bar lead, who is the very typical sort of insecure, chubby-guy stereotype who always hits on pretty girls and is overly fake-happy and awkward.  I hope I've described that properly, so I don't sound like a horrible bitch.  

I immediately disliked him just because the last man I knew of this archetype was someone we were forced to file a sexual harassment suit against at the club in Orlando, and the few I knew in college ended up always getting into these drunken confrontations with me about why I wouldn't date them.  

Anyway, yeah, this guy was South African, and seemed to think that because I'm American, I'd enjoy abusing the English with him.  I shared very little interest in this.

While he was showing me around, another girl showed up for a trial run, and he was forced to go deal with rescheduling her, since we weren't supposed to overlap.  He left me in the capable hands of this gorgeous, English, 20-something bartender.  He kind of had a Heath Ledger thing going on, except quite a bit shorter, and not Australian ... or dead.

Once Insecure Guy realized that not-Heath and I were being a bit flirty, he quickly intervened, and, for some reason, went back over everything I'd just learned.  I guess he was un-doing my time with the other guy.  I dunno.  It was too late, though, the damage had been done.

From that point on, not-Heath and I kept trying to find time to talk, and, shockingly, realized we both went to college for film production, are both editors, and both preferred Final Cut Pro to Avid.  In fact, he's giving me a copy of Final Cut, which is awesome, since buying the suite would be around $1300, and I'm all about the piracy.

He's just coming off of two Gap years, living in Australia and South East Asia, which makes him more attractive to me, since I, also, am intending to live all over the world.  And he randomly quoted Dylan Moran, whom I absolutely adore, so yeah, high scores all across the board for not-Heath.

He was very interested in what it was like to work in America.  When I told him what the earning potential in a bar is, he called me an "attractive barmaid," and said that probably gave me an unfair advantage.  It might give me an advantage against less attractive American girls, but a hot, straight British guy working behind a bar in Florida would make bank.  Seriously.

I really must stop getting pissed on rose wine, but that's what I decided to drink as soon as I was cut, and I ended up rounding the bar to talk to a patron I'd been discussing Florida with, since his daughters are apparently fascinated with it.  Disney World, I guess. Ech.

Unfortunately, because the Dad was British, he assumed that being friendly meant I was at least somewhat interested, so I had to turn down a date invitation a few hours later, and he mercifully started to give me room to lean over the bar and chat up not-Heath comfortably.  

I kept accidentally drawing crowds of men who wanted to listen to my accent, make fun of the word "soccer," and quiz me about whether American high school parties are really what they look like in the films (the most popular question I've received in this country, by far).  I'm sure this at least presented a fair amount of competition for not-Heath, which is fine by me.

Somehow, toward the end of the night, while the pub was emptied and all that was left were bar staff and trusted regulars, I ended up on a couch in the far end of the pub with not-Heath, nursing my fifth or sixth glass of wine in the rosy glow of the puddled candles, and we ended up making a date to go see The Dark Knight in a few days.  He knew I've already seen it, but I honestly have been looking for an excuse to go again.  Maybe the IMAX this time ... 

I wrote down my number for him, so hopefully he's good about keeping track of it, because if I don't get hired there, I probably won't see him again.  He's going back to his university in a few weeks, in Plymouth, but that really isn't putting me off much at all.

The Dad, obviously a bit bitter since I'd turned him down, asked me like four times if I was going out with not-Heath.  I kind of vaguely answered, but honestly, what does he expect?  Not-Heath is the same age as me, in the same line of work as me, and is super cute and childless.  

Not-Heath also offered to walk me to my bus stop.  Obviously, I'd be taking him up on this, not only because I was drunk and in Holloway, which is totally unfamiliar to me, but just on principle.  He was working on his second or third Corona when we swung out of the pub, him wheeling his bike.  

I think at one point he briefly held my hand.  English guys do that; they just go for the hand hold.  Tim did the same thing to me when I took his friends out back in Florida, but that was much more awkward.  I didn't stay hand-holding with not-Heath because he hasn't earned it yet, but I'm sure if the date comes around, he'll be able to slide right on past that point.

We sat at the bus stop for probably around half an hour, talking about stand up comedy and my stance on American politics (also a very popular line of questioning), and eventually, talking about film, which was nice.  

When my bus came, he gave me a firm hug and a really sexy kiss on the cheek/lower jaw (Guitar Guy kissed me in exactly the same place, once), and told me he'd call me and we'd do the movie.  I somehow navigated my way home, reminiscent of last Friday, and happily dropped into bed.

Here's hoping that we actually make it out on the town in the near future.

First off I just want to apologise in advance for not having photos in this letter. I had a really long day today (an early start) which involved getting my braces tightened (ow! ow! ow! Oh and guess what - the freaking braces have really fucked up my gums so I have to go and see a hygenist - because the brackets were covering the bottom of my teeth and loads of plaque built up just above the gums (unreachable by toothbrush) and now I've got like weak gums - for a bit. AND the fucking orthodontist man was super violent with his wire poker thing and snapped OFF one of the brackets and really hurt my teeth, and he cut my wisdom teeth so now I can feel the actual tooth rather than just the gum ), buying school clothes (yawn, Oxford Street!), taking my cat to see an expert cat surgeon (yawn, yawner, yawnest) and getting exam results (yay! I'll come back to that). But I promise I will have them tomorrow, because I have an empty day (just packing to go to Israel) and a camera that needs loving.

So! Exam results! Remember a while ago I was talking about GCSE's? Which are basically super important exams, that go towards which university I get into and stuff? About two months ago, you may remember I couldn't write any letters because I had to study super hard for some Science exams, and they were GCSE's. Well, I got the results for them today... and I got 100% in all of them! Which I am really happy about. But this led me to a conclusion about myself...

I HATE doing well in things. Not that I want to do badly in things, no no no - I like to do well in the respect that I get good grades and will one day hopefully go to a university that is good or really good, what I mean is that I hate doing well and then having to tell people that I've done well. It's because I hate people who gloat. I cannot stand it. The word gloat for me is just a horrible word and a horrible personality trait - and whenever I try to tell people I've done well I just get a big fat smile on my face and I feel horrible - even if the other person has done equally well. I hate it. I'd like to think I am modest about things and I find it incredibly annoying when certain people respond to the comment: "I don't think I did that well" (before finding out results) with the comment: "You know you did! Shut up and stop pretending to be modest." I am really superstitious about things like modesty and karma and shiz. I don't know where it has come from, because all of a sudden (for about four months now) I have started to touch wood every time I make a claim, such as: "yeah I did well in my GCSE's but I'm going to fail all my other ones!" I actually just did it then, having typed that out.

The reason I'm talking about this is because my friend called to find out what I got. He did really well too and guess what - he called up to gloat. I did the same as him (a few other people got 100% too) and when he found out I did the same, he said "aww". He never even said well done. NOT EVEN A WELL DONE. I don't understand where people's manners have gone. When is it okay not to congratulate someone, even if you did the same as them? It's not that I want my ego stroked, but I said well done to him and it's just polite to say well done back.

OH and another thing (this isn't a rant, by the way I'm just writing a pretty essay - I swear) I saw on the news a horrible, horrible story. Seriously, I actually felt like crying. I'll see if I can link you... here. If you can't be bothered to read it, in short a boy fell to his death (in my area actually - fucking Hackney is going to the dogs) running from a gang of youths. It fucking disgusts me, the youth crime problem we have in London. It is distressing actually how many fucking young children have died this year alone. But that's not the point of this - the point of this is that that poor boy has suffered a fate worse than stabbing - he died in terror. He was fleeing from attackers and was so terrified that he fell to his death. How awful is that? I am seriously so horrified by this I can't even put it down in words. All my wishes go to his family and I truly, truly hope from the bottom of my heart that his murderers (yes, murderers - because it was in actuality they who made him fall) are found and dealt with.

I don't know why this story in particular affected me so much - because I read nearly every month or week about a teenager being stabbed to death (it's horrible, horrible) but this one just tugged at me. I don't understand where someone could get so much hate to kill someone. Even if it was for money or whatever reason... it sickens me to think what was going on in his attacker's heads.

Okay, I can't talk about that topic anymore, because I end up not making any sense because I get so emotional about it - THERE I GO AGAIN. I just sound weird and foreign and like some little pansy - but it's true. It is SO awful. I have to say, it is nowhere near as bad as that incident abou the child who was stabbed to death for being gay. That actually made me cry. I will post a link to the video (it's Ellen DeGeneres, who is amazingly thoughtful and really, really caring, reading about it) here.

Well, thanks for reading this piece of junk. Sorry for another essay.

Lots of love,

Your sad, sad friend,

Ben.

Now, sure it's a great story, a hilarious comedy and a beautiful tragedy all at once.  And unlike most of the musical things on the Internet, the music is wonderfully written and presented, right down to the top notch harmonies between the various characters.  Other people are talking about those things, however, and I want to talk about how this fits in with the world of Mad Scientist Stories.

The Mad Scientist has always been one of my favorite sub-archetypes of character in storytelling.  They show up all throughout the history of literature as characters who seek perfection and dream dreams.  The modern mad scientist misses a lot of this.  Nowadays, they're pretty much just goofy people in exaggerated lab coats, goggles and gloves who can tinker just about any gizmo together, and wind up shouting "Life! Life!" a lot.  This is okay, but fewer and fewer modern mad scientists talk about the loss of one's dreams due to their work (such as Dr. Frankenstein), the ironic loss as the indirect result of taking one's art to dizzying heights (such as the death of Icharus, who used one of his father's inventions to fly too near the Sun and died), or even the occasional acheivement of the dream, but the realization that for all the accomplishments he will ultimately remain mortal and need to identify with the humanity he came from (that was my convoluted attempt to put Willy Wonka into the mad scientist territory.  I have more stable grounds for that classification, but no time to expound upon it just now.)

Dr. Horrible manages to be both, however.  He's a supervillain mad scientist in the same style as those who populated DC's Oolong Island not too long ago, and he's also a classic mad scientist who has to make decisions between his "simple" and "grand" dreams.  He wears a goofy lab coat and works on his freeze ray, while also wishing that he could be courting Penny under different circumstances.

In one respect, you could argue that he's a classic mad scientist through and through.  However, instead of a specific science to excel in (candy, reanimating dead tissue, or time machiens to look at the classic literary examples), his chosen art is Mad Science Supervillainy itself.  After all, he ultimately must choose between his mad science and his humanity.

And also like a classic mad scientist, he was doomed from just about the start.  The moment he failed with his first test of his freeze ray, he was locked in: either get into the Evil League of Evil, or be killed by Bad Horse and crew.  Imagine if Dr. Frankenstein had reacted differently when reunited with his creature.  If instead of blaming the creature he had hugged it and said, "Oh, thank goodness, I've been looking for you for years!  How did you find me?  Hurry, though, there's someone crawling around trying to kill members of my family, you may be next!"  It would've put an entirely different spin on the entire novel (plus Frankenstein's monster would've had a massive guilt issue to work with.)  When mad scientists try to run from their problems, it always catches up to them, just as it did with Dr. Horrible.

In the end, Dr. Horrible just accepts his fate.  Honestly, there's nothing else he can do.  Might's well enjoy it, even though it's clearly tearing him up inside.

Having said that, if you haven't seen it yet, go watch it.  Yes, I know you just read the spoilers I warned you about.  Doesn't matter.  There's still plenty with which to surprise and delight you.

Just when I think Valve can't sink any lower in my heart...SURPRISE!, they do. I tried reestabalishing back to Team Fortress 2 because I knew that horrid arena map would be over by than. But no I can't. Steam has given me everything but a legitimate excuse.

First it was some bs about how the memory couldn't be written. I searched forums and other sites to tackle this problem. Just when I think I've fixed it the Steam keep telling me something is wrong with my game cache and needs to fix it...problem is it keeps doing this every 15 seconds. Don't say you're trying to fix the problem, you're just stating the problem over and over again. So I resort to deleting the TF2 files in hopes of getting a clean install and hopefully unpossesed game.

No luck. Everytime I try to install the game Steam informs me that the servers are too busy to help. Wait so you're saying I can't have, let alone play, the game that I paid money for. Fuck you! This is the problem with Steam. Sure they offer you one full place where you can have all your games together. Steam lets you know when to update and is pretty easy to use. But that's just a mask covering the clusterfuck that Steam really is.

Let's say you went out and bought yourself and your family a new house. Only when you move in you figure out the cielings are made of aespesos and theres rats in the floorboards not to mention the heroine needles still lying about when the house used to be frequent resting spot for drug addicts. So you go to your friendly contractor who says "No problem. I'll have that house looking good as new in a jiffy." So you wait a couple weeks and when you get back to see no house.

"where the hell is my house"

"I'll have to get back to you on that"

"What do you mean get back to me?"

"Try asking me again in few minutes"

A few minutes pass by

"So where's my house?

"I'll have to get back to you on that"

Needless to say I will not be supporting Steam or any of its products from here on out. To do anything otherwise would be foolish and turning a blind eye to Corporations taking advantage of their customers. That's right Valve. You're the sly roofie some sexually angst frat jock slipped into my underage sister's drink.

Put some Uke on that biatch.