langwidere: aisling and pangur bán (you must go where i cannot)


langwidere: aisling and pangur bán (you must go where i cannot)
I don’t want to talk about Christmas right now, because it was a little depressing, and right now I am ENRAGED. WHY AM I ENRAGED, YOU ASK? WELL, THIS IS WHY. I THINK YOU DONE JUST SLAPPED ALL THE CUSSWORDS RIGHT OUT MY MOUTH, THE BBC. SHIT.

Here is a physical representation of my boredom, in HTML code, with musical numbers:
(It doesn't have musical numbers.)
Too bored to think up cut text. )

Lastly, many really awesome and apparently insane people visit my website!



In other news! IN OTHER NEWS, Legolas will appear in The Hobbit, which is only right and fitting given that part of the story takes place in Mirkwood, and he is the prince of that country. (Haha, I have been reading Narnia! Can you tell?) I am deeply alarmed by the fact that McKellen hasn’t signed on to be Gandalf again, however, and I will probably stampede later. All by myself. For great justice.

Please, man. Gandalf is the closest a dork will ever get to having a personal relationship with God.
You have to!
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (the only thing death note is good for)
So, as you probably know, I am sort of sick* and I’m feeling really wiped-out and pissy and moody and I haven’t e-mailed anybody in weeks, which is compounding my feelings of guilt and assholery daily, and also I made the very worst chicken pot-pie in the history of mankind for dinner and I am just in a really bad mood in general. No translations today, sorry.

I was planning a post about all the shows I’m watching this fall (I am watching several!) (What is this, 2002?) (Yes! It is!), but I get the feeling that if I tried writing it right now, every review would be a negative F minus. So: no on that one, too. I know. (Don’t cry.)

This is what I was doing last night:


Unable to restrain my intense feminine curiosity, I clicked on the MARRAIGE FIRST image. Because, really? Are we going there, Jesus?

We are going there. I got to this exceedingly strange site, which appears to be called 'Realistic Imaginations YOUTH,' and which features web graphics that depict a bloody Christ being anally serviced by an angel in the guise of Lex Luthor. I think, based on context clues, that these are exactly the sort of people who would like to put marraige first whether you like it or not.

This was the very first thing I saw.

This was also rather nice:

Haha, yes! "Forced into the king’s harem" = "won a beauty contest." That explains a lot.
And Esther is such a ravishing rubber white woman! No wonder King Ahasuerus was so eager to marraige her.

SOME LINKS FOR YOU:
1. Dear Benedict Cumberbatch: I take it back. You’re prettier when you don’t talk.
2. Why fiscal austerity is an even worse idea than you thought it was.
3. Funny.
4. Useful.
5. Cdesign Proponentsism and You
6. Clem hates the fags! Clem hates the fags so much. Clem is not a-goin’ to wear no faggy purple clothes jest bekase sum fags killed thereselfs! (NOTE: That is a direct quote.) (NOTE: Clem is on the school board in a town in Arkansas.) (NOTE: The comments are amazing.)
7. Every 11-year-old boy in the world and I just leapt out of our computer chairs and made a wheezy lap around the living room.

That is all.


* I have some kind of very exciting hormone thing happening. It is almost like puberty, only even more awful. So far, my GP has diagnosed me with a horrible vitamin D deficiency (I have a prescription supplement), and I’m going on Monday for a thyroid uptake scan and then to an endocrinologist on the sixteenth. So, wish me luck, all right?
langwidere: the statue of liberty (and her name mother of exiles)
I’m reading The Man Who Was Thursday. I’ve been reading The Man Who Was Thursday for like ten months, even though it is only 150 pages of large-ish print. This is because it’s kind of boring, and also because I have major, first-degree problems with dead white Christian English dudes telling me what time it is. Seriously: You are defending a world in which homosexuality was a fucking felony*. Because of Britannia, and ladies, and the Queen (or possibly the King). So really, really, really, Mr. Chesterton: Shut the fuck up. For Jesus.

Now I have a marginal amount of sympathy for T.S. Eliot.

(Which is made even more difficult by the fact that some of the shit Chesterton wrote was amazing! PAIN.)

Anyway, so, at the beginning of the book, Chesterton’s intentionally-annoying protagonist attends Chesterton’s (possibly intentionally-hilarious) interpretation of an anarchist’s meeting. And then:

Before he had done so, the long, lean man with the American beard was again upon his feet, and was repeating in a high American monotone —

"I beg to second the election of Comrade Syme."


Which made me think of this:



That is all.

* Among many other problems.
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (and the raven himself telling his beads)
I just broke down and reopened my GMail account. Ew, ew, cellphone cooties, ew. The only thing worse than being forced to lug around a telephone would be to live a world in which social convention dictated I carry around a screaming infant. Ew. Cellphone. I touched it. With my hands. Anyway, so: Looks like someone hijacked my account and then used it to send out a bunch of spam. Heehee. So I guess it wasn’t Google’s fault after all. Oops! (I changed my password.)

And I got my iTouch back on Friday! It is now running iOS 4, which is really unhackable — but it has some nice new features, like a 'Utilities' app that acts as a catch-all for other apps you don’t use often. I stuck the stocks app (and why can’t I delete that mofo?), the world clock, the stupidly useless voice memo app, the maps app, iTunes, the Google app, the IMDb app, the YellowPages app, an extra document reader, etc. in there. Which is good, because OMG that interface is uglier than Glenn Beck in a Victoria’s Secret ad. I don’t need to see all those horrible globs of aqua-button glaze every time I check my e-mail. Aqua was brilliant and futuristic-looking in 2001. It is now officially over. Isn’t it? Please tell me it’s over. Let’s stop using it as our design standard, what do you say?

But: You can also set a wallpaper behind the icons in the home screen now, which is a nice new feature — but, it’s still semi-useless since you still can’t kill the under-app text. So the wallpaper tends to go from looking like a wallpaper to looking like noise. But still, that’s very thoughtful of Apple, isn’t it? HELP US, GEOHOT. YOU’RE OUR ONLY HOPE.

Um, um. Um. Here’s a World Cup primer from Riddled. I’ve been trying to like soccer/the World Cup because it seems to infuriate so many social conservatives here in the US (I don’t know why; soccer is retarded and utterly pointless, which are the two qualities right-wing thinkurz tend to value over everything) — but oh, God. It’s so dumb. Soccer is the dumbest sport ever. It’s soooooo boring. It’s almost as bad as football. Watching/reading about the achingly ridiculous World Cup mess makes me feel like this:





Like, a lot. And unironically.

I ran out of space for news! Next time, okay? Don’t cry. (PREVIEW: THOSE FUCKING CATHOLICS!!!!! GO BRUSSELS!)

Also: NEW LAYOUT! (I’m working on my DW on Wednesday.) And check out the ETA on footnote #2 on this page. Maybe Jesus does love us, after all.

Still no e-mailfu :[
langwidere: two characters from a gay-themed web comic embracing (melons in love)
image


I assume that, when they refer to "The King," they mean Elvis.

(Or John Uskglass, who needs an eponymous font like crazy — possibly inspired by his secret language.) (I’m not even kidding.)