Babies, Brock, and Birthdays ... Oh My!

It was my first baby shower so I had only the advice of others on what to expect while my friend is expecting! Awful pun and kitschy party games aside, I had an amazing time and I now demand that all of my friends get pregnant so that I may attend more showers. This particular party was for my best friend Shannon, her boyfriend Jason, and their soon-to-be-born baby Vada. (Congratulations again, you guys!) Having never attended one of these deals before I had no idea what was considered a "suitable" gift, but I do have my own little midget, giving me first-hand knowledge on what a new mommy truly needs - diapers, and lots of them. After a ton of internet research, a mass of videos, and more design changes than I'd care to admit, I ended up with my finished product. Honestly, it took about three hours to assemble completely (and I had help rolling up all of the diapers), and it was as easy as ... pie! (Betcha thought I was gonna say "cake", huh?) In case anyone out there wants to order one themselves, or is simply curious, I'll list what this cake includes:

"Shannon Sweetheart" 3-Tier Diaper Cake

• 84cnt. Size 2 Huggies Little Snugglers Premium Diapers
• 2 bibs (one with Dinosaurs, one with Cupcake)
  
• 4 "Rabbit" washcloths
  
• 3 pairs of "Rosette" socks
• 2 pink spoons
• 6 bath-time water squirters
• 6 glitter hair-ties
• 1 bottle baby powder
• 1 bottle baby wash
• 1 colorful rattle
• 1 cuddly "Piggy" blanket
  
• 1 soft, pink plush

And the cake comes decorated with a gorgeous pink and yellow wire ribbon featuring a print with tiny feet and pacifiers. I'm not entirely sure on the price range right now, but eBay sellers are making a GRIP on these cakes; I won't tell you my final cost because there will be a mark-up for profit, of course, but I've done the math on similar cakes and some are selling at 100-150% profit PER cake. So yeah, {plug} Are you or is someone you know planning a baby shower? Don't know what to get or need a zazzy centerpiece to add that certain "zazz" to your party? Candace's Cakes© can help with made-to-order Diaper Cakes for ALL themes, including but not limited to: Jungle, Sweet Treats, Dinosaurs, Cars, Disney™ characters, Emily Strange™, and The Nightmare Before Christmas™! {/plug}




Now that my shameless plugging in finished we can move effortlessly toward the next topic of da blurg: The fucking Venture Brothers. If you, yeah you, if you have never seen this show GO DO IT NOW. I am making my way back through season three, having recently acquired the unrated DVD version, and it requires constant discipline to contain my gigglefits and joygasms whilst watching. This may be old news to some, but SRSLY, I'm waging this epic battle in my head now - Venture Brothers very well may take the lead as "Best Adult Swim Show To Date" ... we shall see. It's absolutely worth first place, no doubt, with it's superb voice acting, idiotically creative characters, complex underlying themes, extremely beautiful digital animation, wittier-than-fuck dialog, and countless homages to so much shit ranging from passing fads to obscure comic book references ... but I won't let Home Movies down from first place just yet. (Betcha thought I was gonna say Metalocalypse, didn't ya?) Oh yeah, I am a FREAK for Home Movies - hands down the most underrated show on AS. Don't worry, though, my fellow brutalists, the boys of Dethklok take the bronze with pride.



Before I end this post, because it's getting way too fucking long, I have a few more things to talk about. The first being this website that my little brother got me to join called Last.fm . So far it's pretty fun - basically it's a social network for people who are in to music. It compares your music to your friends, syncs with a whole bunch of music players to grab your library, tally charts and graphs, and silly stuff like that. I enjoy it, and I think others with an interest in music and an analytical mindset will as well.

In the interest of being more outwardly social, and not for gifts, I'm pointing out that my birthday is on Friday. We will be seeing "Taking Woodstock" sometime Friday evening in Newport News, and we'll have ice cream cake if anyone wants to be a big kid with me. Everyone is welcome to stop by, and if Newport News is too far of a drive, I believe we've changed the Virginia Beach thing to Saturday, but I'll have to double check.

Well, that's all I feel like typing this morning, it's still quite early and I've only had one thermos of coffee thus far! As I part for more caffeine I will leave you with my favorite poem (J.D. started in on Facebook):

Death Be Not Proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

John Donne (1572-1631)

House and Holmes, or Warlock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels

So, it's been a while, - trust me, I know - but I don't wanna hear it. No, nope! Bep bep bep! That's better. Now sit down, chil'en, and I'll tell you a tale that begins at 221B Baker St.

A week or two ago I went to see the new Harry Potter movie (Half-Blood Price, it was meh), but I did see a trailer for what I believe is going to be a wicked movie: Sherlock Holmes. I watched with a big ass smirk and bewildered eyes as Robert Downey Jr., of all people, bantered with Watson (Jude Law), and fought against a really large man ... shirtless.


The point is, I went to show the trailer to Jeremy and then read, as I always do, the countless YouTube user comments beneath the video to be bombarded by what I can only describe as an "unruly, ill-informed mob of HATERS"! I encourage all to view the barrage of insults towards actors, director, and even fellow YouTube users simply because these people think that this new movie is destined to be an inaccurate travesty. I read things like, "Why is he fighting?", "There's too much action", and "Why isn't Watson fat?". (Also a lot of, what I assume to be women, complaining that Holmes doesn't look "sophisticated enough".) Well, please oh please allow me to burst the collective bubble by announcing that, gasp, I've actually read a Holmes novel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and I can therefore accurately base my opinions off of something other than a few old movies and a black and white television series! I mean, c'mon people, if you're going to say that something isn't "cannon" at least compare it to the original source. Sherlock Holmes was extraordinarily messy; he was a frequent drug user, a boxer, a fencer, and studied a style of Japanese martial arts. Holmes was also notably cold and calloused towards anyone who didn't peak his interest in crime solving, and once a case was finished he would lose interest in any and/or all of the individuals involved. Aside from a seeming infatuation with one Irene Adler (who, to me, is pictured in the trailer as a strong and defiant woman), Holmes cares only for Watson and expresses these feelings towards Watson so infrequently that Watson clings dearly to the few momentous words of compassion Holmes throws his way. And as for Watson being fat, well, that's relying on the movies and TV show again ... he was described in the books as an ex-military man (who had served in war), and strongly built, not tubby or fat. And, too much action you say, well we all know that's what trailers are all about; those two and a half minutes of action in the trailer are probably all the action the movie contains and they jam it together to make the movie seem interesting to those it would normally have no effect on. In the future, I highly advise everyone to pick up a book and read, something, anything. It's good for you.

In other news, I dinged level 70 on my Warlock, Cheydris, last night and have been playing WoW a bit more after my short hiatus. I came back just in time for patch 3.2 and, patch-day bugs aside, so far so good. They've lowered the level requirements and prices considerably for every mount (other than your Epic Flyer, though Faction discounts are in place), and I spent a good two hours just flying around Outlands on my Ebon Griffon.


And some dragon flight-point thing in Northrend...

It's been fun, to say the least, and I have yet to fully enjoy all of the delicious new things that have been added since the Wrath expansion debuted in 2008. Now, with my Flying mount out of the way, I have to save up the bazillion million gold that buys my Cold Weather Flying skill, my Epic Flying Mount, and the skill to go along with that. Oy, someone wanna farm for me? But, there is good news: this week, I will be attending my first ever Karazhan run, so I'll probably post some screen shots of that up here! Exciting!

I meant to post pictures of the apple pie I baked last time I sat down to write a blog, but ... I didn't so maybe next time. I have a busy few weeks ahead of me, but I'll try my best to update in a timely fashion, in between all of the running around and grinding.

Upcoming Events:

• August -- September - Reach at least level 75 on Warlock (see below)
• August --September - Spend time with friends, leave the house
  
• August 23rd - Shannon's Baby Shower
• August 23rd - Dinner at parents (followed by partying at Shannon's some more?)
  
• August 28th - My birthday! (No plans yet, open to suggestions and presents)
• September 13th - Dawn's Birthday
  
• September 14th - Death to the Horde (slaying the Horde leaders for mount/achievement - must be 75)
  

I know there's probably more to add to the list that I'm forgetting about, but all of this is on top of my normal duties of house keeping, Guild Nights, and lazing around. I'm definitely going to have to cut down on my lazing around time ... bothersome!

As if all of this weren't enough, I now have friends hounding me to brave the tunnel to the other side of the Seven Cities to go gallivanting and adventuring throughout the town. Not that I mind, mind you! I love each and every one of my friends very much and it's been a real pain in the ass living on this side of the abomination that is the HRBT, and if someone would pick me up like they've been saying they would ( /glare) I'd be more than happy to quest in the name of friendship! It gets a little lonely being a hermit day after day, so a break from the mundane would be welcome; I've even considered getting a part-time job for a little cash and company, but don't quote me on that.

Alas, I must depart. Time to threaten some Republicans for threatening Democrats for threatening to give me free/affordable healthcare regardless of preexisting conditions. And play WoW.


"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."
- Sirius Black, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire"

Nullifying Negative Connotations

"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

The instructions delivered by the King of Hearts to that neurotic White Rabbit always seemed simple enough to me growing up, and yet one of the hardest things for me as a writer is avoiding a 'forced entry', if you will. I'll never forget the importance of my ninth grade English teacher, Ms. McGuinness, and her tricks to conquering boring writing. Aside from completely barring the use of "good" as an adjective, she was ever firm on the "why", looking high and low for the underlying theme even if, as I often thought, there was none. Most of all, though, she despised the use of "cookie-cutter" statements: in conclusion, firstly, first of all; even the famed 'once upon a time' was subject to her grammatical authority. Despite having to toil through themed essays, and tearing to pieces every epic poem ever written, I owe a lot of what I know to Ms. McGuinness who was always there, standing over your shoulder, ready to ask "why". Thank you, Ms. McGuinness - due to you I can artfully and deftly scribe one-thousand words about absolutely nothing.

That is, if I ever get around to it. One thing I am not is a pancake; however, I am a massive procrastinator. There's no real point to stating that fact, except that if you're expecting regular posts you're in for a let-down - that, and it's a lead-in for my next topic of discussion: something else I am!

Whenever job applications or social networking site surveys ask me to describe myself in three words I'm always slightly tempted to reply with Johannes factotum, leaving the last word free for, I dunno, boobs or fart or something to that ilk. (Also, ten bonus points and/or a cupcake to the person who can tell me who coined the term Johannes factotum. ) Literally translated into Johnny-do-it-all, it eventually became the "Jack of all trades" that we know today. What most of you all don't know is the pairing line to the original couplet that begins Jack of all trades, master of none. It's a traditional case of ignorance, and so I feel the need to enlighten and perhaps reverse this wayward stereotype that has nearly reversed how a Johannes factotum should be viewed. Many extraordinary people were labeled as "generalists", assuring us that the connotation was never meant to be negative. Here, I'll give you a few examples of esteemed polymaths: Leonardo da Vinci, Aristotle, and Benjamin Franklin. There are a ton more, and I'm welcoming everyone to send in their examples. DO EET. Oh, and here's what the real and total couplet looks like:

Jack of all trades, master of none,
though offtimes better than master of one.

So, ha! Suck on that, fuckers! There was a time when I was an angry little lady; no matter what I did I was never exceptional at anything! It was frustrating and infuriating trying to find my 'niche', seemingly surrounded by kids who were gifted at everything. And then one day it clicked, the pieces fell into place, the planets aligned. I had an epiphany! While I may not be fantastic at everything I try, I can do everything that I try and there's something to be said about that.

Noun
jack of all trades, master of none
1. (idiomatic) A person who has a competent grasp of many skills but who is not outstanding in any one.

Alright! So I'm no prodigy, big fucking deal. I'm a polymath and I am fiiiiine with that. More than fine, ecstatic! To all mah Johannes factotums out d'ere, West West! I got yo' backs.

I'll leave it at that today, 'cause I gots shit to do, yo! No really, though, I have to get some chores done, WoW time, and a nap in before dinner. Busy bee! BUT FIRST KITTEHZ!!1!

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

To Clean, or not to Clean?

Three cups of coffee, two bowls, and one chapter later and I am still shirking my chores. I know I'll get it done, eventually, but right now I dun wanna! Random aside: are you supposed to capitalize those "tag" words? I can't help but do it. It's times like these when I really wish that magic were real, but then we'd all be big, fat, slobbering idiots, instead of just some of us. Cleanus Litterus! Yeah, I guess it's good that we can't all be perpetually lazy fuckheads.

So, as a lot of you know, I have this addiction to a book series titled "The Cat Who...", and while I'm never ashamed to flaunt my collection of first editions, I have to admit that owning almost thirty "Cat Who" related books is astounding for someone with such flighty convictions. I really am a Jill of All Trades, yet Master of none, but that is a different story for a different day. There are many reasons why I am such an avid fan of Ms. Jackson Braun and the world she's created in her series. I'll admit that, aside from a few main characters, two of which are cats, there isn't much in the way of character development. For the first ten or so books the plot tends to drag and dead-end, and there are numerous trivial inconsistencies. Once or twice, for me, the mystery's resolution has been painfully obvious only a mere four chapters in, but to invent elaborate riddles and incorporate two cats, an aging journalist, and a slew of "Yokel Locals" thirty times over isn't easy either.

What she [Ms. Braun] has done is created a rich and colorful township full of old town values and charming ideals. Her personal feelings of ecological preservation and animal rights bleeds through into these novels in a delicate and heartfelt way. If it didn't snow, and weren't fictional, I'd move to Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere, in two shakes of a cat's tail. What is lacking in depth is made up for by Ms. Braun's lengthy background in fine cuisine and interior design and she proceeds to describe the meals and surroundings of the main character constantly. Beware: Cat Who books will probably make you hungry. Despite all of the quirks, I am absolutely hooked on this series and will continue to devour it voraciously over and over.

Well, I've killed a significant amount of time posting this bullshit. Time for a cigarette and another cup of coffee and then chores. BORING. Hopefully, WoW will be up by then. Oh, yeah, before I go, get this: my WoW server went down this morning for what those assholes at Blizzard dare to call a "brief maintenance". I checked the site. To them "brief" is three mother fucking hours. Jerkoffs.

Before I depart with the usual KITTEH!?!!1 I leave you with these fine words of wisdom:

Did you hear that they're melting down all the plastic that was in Michael Jackson to make a slide so that kids can go down on him again?

Boooo! Hiisssss! Yeah, I know. Fuck you, too. I think it's hilarious.

See? All better now. I had this one for the 4th, but I didn't post and I'll be damned if I'm waiting a whole fucking year to use it. KITTEH!

"I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain."

At Least We're Dreaming

There are very few things that shake the steadiest hand, but stoics the world over have faltered at a dream. A dream is defined, by Dictionary.com, as "a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep," and you'll noticed they tacked that tricky word 'emotion' at the end there. These involuntary visions, they captivate, overwhelm, and scare some; me, I'm always left in a state of melancholy and it's really starting to piss me off.

Once upon a time, far away, I was deeply rooted in a belief that dreams were some sort of "cosmic message service" that subtly nudged you towards wherever the hell it was you were supposed to be. I know, it's a fantastical idea, but I was younger and way too whimsical. Now that I have at least one foot firmly planted here on Earth, I realize that I have no idea what dreams really are, but I'm damn sure what they aren't.

Dreams are not some guiding force, swerving you this way and that, giving you secrets from beyond. Dreams are not so cut and dry that they can be instantly divined, either. I own at least three different books, calling themselves "Dream Dictionaries", claiming to be the definitive translation to all things slumber. Bullshit! Let's lay out an example: the Dreamers Dictionary defines a large body of water, seem in a dream, represents sexuality. Hm, we'll ignore the vague, one word definition and concentrate on why this is all a fucking farce. What happens if I'm terrified of water? That sure as hell wouldn't represent sexuality to me at all. I guess I'm just too much of a dumb shit to realize that it's representing my sexuality? Oh damn, maybe I'm terrified ... of my sexuality! That's it! I'm gay! ... see? All bullshit. (Take that, Penn & Teller!)

Short of never sleeping again, there's only one solution to my sleepy situation: come to terms with my dreams. Who knows, mayhap it'll be a sane and rational conversation? "Brain, we need to talk ... maybe you should take a seat. Once or twice a week you give me these ... dreams, and well, I don't like 'em. Knock it off, bitch!" I'm a content person, for the most part, and I'm an intelligent adult (again, for the most part) so I cannot fathom why I still have childish dreams about fairytale romances and finding love. I know that I can't control the content of my dreams, but I loathe the fact that my dreams are comprised of such a mushy load of crap. I blame Hollywood.

No, really. Hollywood. Pushing that romance novel bullshit on us at every turn. Perfectly functioning couples break up every single day because of 'Chick Flicks'. Ladies, you wanna know why men hate those movies? It's not because they don't have feelings, it's because those movies are vapid, inane, and just plain old fucking stupid. That shit doesn't happen! There is no such thing as that perfect moment where all of the pieces fall into place and he says just the right thing. Why the hell are you gonna leave a perfectly good man, or woman, because there might be someone else out there? That shit isn't real! It's in a movie for a reason, you dipshit. If you're in a relationship and you happen to meet someone better, well que sera, sera. Shit happens. But, don't sit there and pine away and wonder "what if"... morons.

Ahhh, I feel better. I hope you do, too. No? Need a hug? How about a kitty?!



"Cats are cats . . . the world over!
These intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends - who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed - may someday teach us something." -- James Mackintosh Qwilleran

Happy Fourt- Oh Wait, That's Tomorrow.

MJ - It's what's for breakfast! And brunch, lunch, afternoon snack, dinner, the munchies...

I am so goddamn tired of hearing, reading, and talking about Michael Jackson; fortunately, I have plenty of energy left for yelling, cursing, ranting and/or raving! Yes, I understand that the creepy, twisted husk of a man, who was starting to resemble an aged birch tree, was "iconic", but even the most minute and idiotic details surrounding his life and death are now inescapable. I would fully expect, at the risk of sounding racist, Jet magazine and BET to be all over this like, heh heh, white on rice, but c'mon! CNN is even acting like they give a shit! Not just one shit, either, two shits! Anderson Cooper doesn't know all of the words to "Thriller", and I'm more than willing to bet he doesn't care! Being the news junkie that I am, it infuriates me to no end that my daily headlines are filled with trivial bullshit about a crazy ass pedophile. There are real things happening in the real world, people, so pull your fucking heads out of La-La Land... or should I say NeverLand? Please, stop reporting around-the-clock coverage from in front of Michael Jackson's house, get back to the real news, and let us cave-dwelling internet goers handle reporting the inane shit - we're good at it.

I Can Haev Epic Mountz 2!

For those of you who don't know, or didn't care, I play a ridiculous amount of video games considering there are more productive things I could be doing. Having taken a long ass break from the monotonous grind that is WoW, I've been sucked, or suckered, back into the fray. Having found myself a wicked fun guild to run around with has added a new flavor, not to mention the few years of upgrades to the game I've missed allowing me to be pleasantly surprised when I stumble on to something "new".

I've been truckin' along at what I consider to be a fairly decent pace having only nineteen more levels to earn before I can play with the big kids. I'm not going to turn this into a WoW blog - that is a project of its own that I have tossed around in my head, but only in half seriousness - but I do want to post a few screenshots here and there. We'll start with the new skill they've added: "Trick Riding"

As you can see, I'm getting pretty good. Later, however, I decided that it was a little too gay for my tastes, being a Warlock and all, so I ditched the trick pony for some hardcore Steed-age.


Fuck yeah! That's one badass Death Horse. Whilst I roam around the expansive world (of Warcraft) critters will tremble, humanoids will flee, bitches will swoon! Whenever I'm on a particularly long sojourn I never fail to queue up an ever appropriate song by the one and only Dethklok:

"The Lost Vikings"

Riding, and riding, we search across the land
The snow, and wind, has frozen hearts of man
But we ride
We ride

Many days ago we left our homes
With swords to ride into the night
Fighting side by side to destroy our foes
And leave them without life

We stop, consider the land that we travelled
Our map's at home, direction unravelled
But we ride
We ride

Many days ago we left our homes
With swords to ride into the night
Fighting side by side to destroy our foes
And leave them without life

So much time has passed since we left our land
That we've become concerned
And we'll never find the battle
That we should have fought and won

But we won't stop searching

Lost but still we ride
Search until we die

We ride
We ride

Hungry and tired the frigid plain yeilds little
We trudge on further, eating pride and snow that's brittle

We ride
We ride

We come upon a witch who takes us in
To let us share her mighty fire
She asks of us our story and we lie and say
We ride around for hire
She asks us if we'd like to have her map
And points us in some direction
But we are far too proud and strong so we keep silent
And ignore her suggestion

Lost but still we ride
Search until we die
All the fault of pride
The gods weep in the night

Lost but still we ride
Search until we die
All the fault of pride
The gods weep in the night

We ride
We ride

It's an epic song and I recommend it to anyone with ears. Ya know what, even if you don't have ear! Fuck it! Go ahead and give it a listen anyway, or ... feel the vibrations or whatever the fuck it is they do. Anyways, I'm off for now, but not until I give you your daily dose of KITTENZ!

Peace out, bitches!

Gooooood Morning!

Oh, hey there everybody! I didn't see you there; c'mon inside and ... take off your shoes, please. Welcome to Walk Without Rhythm - the home of random fucking bullshit, magniloquent rants, and kitties. Go ahead, pretend that you don't like kitties ... I'll wait. Actually, no I won't - wanna know why? I don't give a fuck if you don't like kitties! It's my goddamn blog! If you don't wanna read it go away (shooooo), and I promise I won't give two shits.

Now that that's that, whoa, thatthatthatthattythat ... it's time to lay down some ground rules on this mutha':

• Numero Uno ~ Blog comments are enabled because you can say whatever the fuck you want, just don't expect it to make a difference.


• B - This blog is RATED ARRRR ~ I don't even wanna hear it if some snot-nosed punk ass kid reads this. Just don't.


• Penis ~ If you want me to read/follow your blog or add you on a messenger/social site send me a literate email request first or you will be denied. No exceptions.


• Orange ~ Yes, I AM the Grammar Police. Yes, I do typo. Feel free to scour each post for every little error and blast me for it. Also feel free to massage some sweltering testicles with your tongue, you prick.

And that's with only two three cups of coffee in me today. I like my coffee like I like my women: strong, black, with a spoon in them. Can you imagine what I look like this early in the morning having consumed copious quantities of caffeine? Now you don't have to!

D'awww! Look at me! I'm fucking cute! Anyway ... there is more coffee to be acquired and cigarettes that won't smoke themselves. If cigarettes smoked themselves would they give themselves cancer? I'll post more less interesting shit later!

To Do (Or Else):

• Change/Clean Cat-Shit box


• Vacuum house


• Swiffer© kitchen


• Play WoW


• More Kitty Piccers

Oh, fuck, I almost forgot! Here ya go, ladies:

KITTEH!!1

Go now. And may the Schwartz be with you.