I Think That I Need to Take a Break from the Internet for a While

I think it's turning me into a mean person.

Seriously.  Just now, I wanted to get into a full-out, completely heated word-battle with some complete strangers over which version of a song was better, which is kind of ridiculous of me because both of the versions have their own pros and cons and whatnot, and they are equally soulful in each respect, and the fact that I grew up listening to Johnny Cash does not automatically make him a greater musician, okay, self?

(BUT YOU CAN JUST HEAR HIS PAIN AND-)

Shut up, self.  You are being a jerk.  Just shut up.

Does spending half an hour stalking my own blog make me conceited, or just sad?

Because that's what I just did.

I have a serious internet problem.

I need to go to bed.

I'm leaving now.

Goodbye.

All I Want is an Immortal, Evil, Ghost Uncle Who Can Grow Cheese Plants. Is That so Much to Ask?

Today, I suffered a loss.

You see, for a long time, I have been obsessed with the Sims (seriously, it's unhealthy how much I like that game.)  A few months ago, we got the Sims 3, and my life immediately went out the window because, hello, Sims 3.  

Anyway, I have spent more hours than I care to admit playing this game.  Getting my sims jobs, having them get married and have children and all that jazz.  Recently, I created a new family, one that was sort of like a crime family only not really and I'm pretty sure that no one really cares anyway but I have to tell you because you need to know.  

You need to know about Uncle Paulie.

When I started playing this family, Uncle Paulie was just Paolo Dinardo, a poor, misunderstood teenager.  It seemed like he couldn't do anything right.  He was constantly being upstaged by his goody-two-shoes sister, Gianna.  How could anyone possibly love or understand him?  Who could possibly see through his evil exterior to the sweet young man within?  It seemed that Paolo would be doomed to a life of loneliness.

But then, Amanda moved to town.

Amanda and Paolo were similar in every way that you could possibly think of so, naturally, they quickly fell in love and got married (although, not quickly enough apparently because perfect little miss Gianna was already married at this point, and had also already had her first child Arianna.)

The love of his wife and his niece melted Paulo's cold heart, revealing the lovable Uncle Paulie within.  Uncle Paulie lived a very healthy lifestyle, but, unfortunately, was taken from the sim world far too early.

It seemed that that would be the end of Uncle Paulie forever, and I was heartbroken, because Uncle Paulie was the shiz and didn't take no crap from nobody.  He was an adorable little old man who exercised regularly and grew a massive garden, and I loved him, dang it.

However, an opportunity appeared.  I could take Uncle Paulie's ashes to the science facility to bring him back from the dead.  How could this possibly go wrong?  So, I took Uncle Paulie to the science facility, but the process didn't work properly and he only came back as a ghost.  (At first, I didn't notice that he had come back as a ghost and I just thought that the science facility had heartlessly ash-napped the only part of Uncle Paulie that I had left, and I may or may not have freaked out a little.)

Uncle Paulie as a ghost may have been even more awesome than Uncle Paulie as a living sim.  Ghost Uncle Paulie did what he wanted.  If he wanted to go outside, he would glide through the dang wall.  If he wanted to scare you, he would (and did.  Uncle Paulie and Arianna's husband David did not get along very well.)  Ghost Uncle Paulie continued to grow his garden, and he also learned how to grow cheese and eggs because he effing could.  

Uncle Paulie was the shiz biscuit, and I was totally convinced that I could play this awesome sim forever and ever as long as I had someone alive to take his ashes to the science facility every time he died.

However, as I learned tonight, this was not the case.  While Uncle Paulie was innocently tending his garden, he was sucked down into the underworld, never to return.  

So now I'm kind of heartbroken a little bit and I kind of don't want to play the Sims any more even though Arianna's son's name is Flynn and I was totally going to have him marry a girl named Rapunzel.  I just feel like a Sims 3 without Uncle Paulie isn't really a Sims 3 at all.

And here is where I realize that you probably don't care about my dead sim, even if he was the coolest thing since absolute zero, and here is where I state that I don't care that you don't care because Uncle Paulie deserves a decent funeral, dang it.  You will remember him, because he was awesome, and you're awesome, so you both have something in common.

This may or may not have made any sense, since I'm really tired and kind of upset.  I don't really care any more.  I do what I want.

Just like Uncle Paulie did.

My Life has been Taken Over

By ponies.

Specifically, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

I believe that technically this may make me what is referred to on the Interwebs as a "brony."  However, I don't know if I'm entirely comfortable with that title, as I am not a bro.  I am a lady (like Rarity.)

You see, I have been sick all of this past week, so I have been staying home, in great need of something to comfort me (or perhaps to love and tolerate me.)  Enter ponies.

So.  Many.  Ponies.

 Once I started watching the first episode of season one, I was hooked.  I began watching episode after episode on YouTube, in an attempt to catch up to the current season.  I spent unhealthy amounts of time tying to decipher whom my friends most resembled.  (Sassafras Jones is so totally Twilight Sparkle it is not even funny.)

By the way, I'm a horrible person who just Googles things and isn't overly fond of proper citation.  I apologize.  Hold on for just one second.  Snajperpl on DeviantArt is responsible for this glorious display.  Feel free to stalk.

I have a serious problem.  I can't stop myself.  (In much the same way that Apple Bloom couldn't stop herself when she got Cutie Pox!)

Save me from myself.  Please.

(Or don't.  I secretly love my pony addiction.)

I Know You're all Probably Sick of Me Never Really Posting Anything Worthwhile any More, and With Good Reason, but I Have a Legitimate OOH KITTENS

Yeah, I don't actually really have a legitimate reason for not posting anything ever any more, except that maybe I'm about to go over psycho falls in the crazy canoe and I have a bizarre and all-consuming obsession with the Sims.

Oh look, kittens!

AND A PUPPY

And Scruffy!

Basically, what I'm doing here is trying to bribe you all with cute/hilarious animal pictures so you don't hate me any more.

Is it working?

No?  How about this?

I give up.

Predicting the Future with Friends

So, I was having a grand old time with my very good band friends on Friday, and we were discussing what college would be like.  Apparently, it's going to go like this:

I'm going to go off to far away lands and triple major at a private college, thereby making me a recluse and extremely poor.  After I triple major, I'm going to go to another college that's actually in my home state to get a master's degree in trombone.  Why?  So I can be in their marching band, of course.

Really.  That's the only reason.

The Destroyer/David Hasselhoff (You remember her.  We went swimming together.  She plays the trumpet) will go off to that in-state college and be in their marching band from the get-go.  At around week three, she will have a mental breakdown from the stress of homework combined with the stress of so many intensive band practices.  After three days of psychosis, she will stand up and declare the she is the Destroyer/David Hasselhoff and ain't nobody gon get her down nuh-uh.   After she has been at that college for three years, I will begin my master's degree in trombone, and join her in the marching band.  She will have predicted my arrival down to the last second, and when I arrive, she will be petting her trumpet, saying "I've been expecting you."  Only I will be a few seconds late.  She will ask if the elevator got stuck (at which point there is a flashback to me sawing at the elevator cable while the first-chair trombone player stands inside) "Yes," I will reply.  "On a totally unrelated note, though, I'm now the first-chair trombone player!"

Then we will go on to kick butt, only we'll be really poor.  We won't have enough money to drive back home, so we'll go over to our high school band teacher's house because she only lives on campus.  There we will tell her horror stories about how we cut off all our hair and sold it for drugs, then how we sold the drugs for food money.

And that's as far as we got.  I really don't know why I write this stuff down.

I Have Claimed a Nemesis

He's my nemesis because I called dibs, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band already has a nemesis, also, because I have seniority (a booyah.)

I don't know where that last part came from (the part that secretly loves Kim Possible and thinks Ron is actually kind of cute.

You know you love him too.

Also, on an unrelated note, this was kind of awesome:

That is all.)

That's great, subconscious, can I have my blog post back now?

(yes.)

Thank you.

(I'm not making any guarantees, though)

*Sigh*  Fair enough.

Anyway.

Today I claimed a nemesis.  Why?  Because I need a good nemesis to spice up my last year in Quiz Bowl, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band has always had a nemesis, and, frankly, I've been feeling slightly jealous.  There.  I said it.  ARE YOU HAPPY?

(Pay no heed to the caps lock.  She's a little unstable lately.)

I HEARD THAT!

(Heard what?  I didn't hear anything.  Except maybe the nice little chit-chat I was having with this lovely reader of yours.)

*Snake eyes*  I'm watching you.

(Alright then.)

Exactly.

Back to Nemesis.

Nemesis is on the Quiz Bowl team that was totally crazy good last year when they had this one really awesome guy, but now he's graduated, and so we actually sort of stand a chance against them.

Enter Nemesis.

Scout's honor, the boy answered most of the questions asked in that match.  AND EVERY TIME HE BUZZED IN, I KNEW THE ANSWER.  And if he would've just gotten the answer wrong, then I would have been able to get the point, but NOOOOOO.  He's got to go and get all the answers RIGHT like a JERKFACE.

(He's not really a jerkface.)

Fine.  I suppose he's not really a jerkface, but from now on, we shall never be friends. 

I will make sure of that

Mwahaha...ahahaha....AHAHAHAHA....AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ahem.

I apologize.  I haven't been sleeping well.

Nemesis shall be conquered, or I will...do...something.

(It will be poorly-thought out and even more poorly executed, if it ever happens at all.)

Why do you have to be so mean?

(Because you're off your rocker right now, and you need someone to help you back on.)

So you're going to shove me back onto my rocker with verbal abuse?

(It's really more of a forceful guiding...of love.)

Oh, because THAT makes sense.

(It does.)