Mascara

I was going through an old purse of mine and found this little comic strip.

I'll write a nice, long post after these dad-gummed holidays are over <3

Runescape - This one is loooooong

 (This is long and wordy, but there's a comic at the end to make up for it.)

            I play runescape.  Unfortunately, everyone’s response to this is, “Runescape?  Ew, why?” so I get extremely defensive and spew things like, “They’ve really improved the graphics!”.  I actually have an entire spiel as to why Runescape is tons better than it was and why everyone should play.  However, I’m not going to bore you with this even though it would be funny to imagine me saying all those things while gradually getting more and more flustered.  For some reason I really dislike the fact that everyone hates runescape.  More so, what people seem to think of me afterwards.

            Or that might just be my paranoia.

            Anyways, I played as a tyke but eventually quit after I had done everything you could in the free game except for the dragon quest which I still refuse to do.  Then, several years later, I realized that I had money and could pay for a membership.  To represent how much better a membership is than the free game, I shall draw a diagram using cake:

           Everybody loves a slice of cake.  It’s sweet, moist and definitely delicious.  Free to play Runescape is a lot like this.  It’s a fun, really great game with okay graphics and plenty to do.  Very cool for a free game.

            Then, you have an entire wedding cake.  Wedding cakes are specially formulated to meet the extremely high standards of a crazed, bridezilla.  Wedding cakes are gorgeous, tasty, and there’s just so very much of it.  Nobody ever forgets their first slice of wedding cake.  The second you put it in your mouth you think, “No cake will ever amount to this.”

            Memberships are indeed wedding cakes.  Not only is there about 75% more stuff to do, but is you compare the size of the member’s map to the size of the free to play map it’s kind of like comparing a small slice of cake to a statuesque wedding cake.

            For a while, the member’s stuff had me super excited about Runescape and I was playing almost constantly.  Unfortunately, with the way I play video games, I soon got bored with actually doing things and just kind of derped around like I do with most other games.

            I hardly ever play a video game with any effort.  As I said before, I really just derp around until something happens, or until I find something completely irrelevant to strive for.  Let’s use the Fable series as an example.  I have beaten the first, haven’t played much of the second, and I’m about to beat the third.  All I did in any of those games was run around finding clothes to wear and people to woo into holy matrimony.  I still have no idea how I managed to beat them.

            I play Runescape the same way.  I’ll spend hours getting the supplies to bake pizzas and while doing so somehow level up four times and beat a quest I didn’t even know I was on.

The curse with this is that once I run out of will to do useless things, I get bored and go do something else.  Therefore, even with all the amazing quests and new skills, I stopped playing Runescape for a while.

Then, a few months later, I decided I should work on my crafting level.  I spent hours making bowstrings on autopilot because I decided I needed to go from level 12 to level 38 in crafting.  I literally made thousands of those things while watching several episodes of Law and Order SVU.  During one of my level ups, I was notified that I could now make a certain kind of robe in a place called Daemonheim.  “Daemonheim?!”  I shouted.  “That’s so many letters!  I gotta find that place.”

So, I pulled up my world map, found the place and walked all the way up there just to see what the heck it was.

In doing so, I discovered the greatest thing ever.

In Daemonheim, you can utilize this skill called Dungeoneering.  Basically, you get thrown in a dungeon with no weapons, no food, no armour, no nothing.  You work your way through this dungeon with a party, sharing skills and working together to get everyone weapons, food, armour, and anything else you might need.  It’s great, because you have to make all of this stuff yourself with what you find in the dungeon.  Paired with puzzles and enemies, Dungeoneering appeals to all sorts of video gaming needs.

Therefore, I fell in love with Dungeoneering and ran dungeons every day for months.  However, they get lonely by yourself and I try to avoid spending time with strangers on runescape (they’re all 12 and very, very angry).  If my sister wasn’t in the mood to Dungeoneer, I wouldn’t go.  Eventually this fizzled out as well, and I stopped playing for a month or two.

The third time I got back into Runescape was a month or two ago when my sister was visiting me.  We were playing together on our laptops so we could get some “quality time” in when we started to notice some really cool looking clothes.  People were running around wearing things we’d never seen before.  We asked around, and people told us what they were, but we couldn’t find them on any databases or at the Grand Exchange.  Finally, we ended up at a clothing store in Varrock only to discover that the Runescape crew had added about a bagillion new outfits to choose from.  Not only that, but it was free for us to change clothes for the entire day.

As Fable taught me, one of my favorite things to do in video games is dress up my characters.  I’ll spend so much money on clothing, dye, hair styles and everything in between.  Runescape had made my day, and I spent an hour completely revamping my entire character.  He went from one big derp to a blacksmith with awesome hair, an entire personality/backstory, and a fictional wife.  This new outfit completely rekindled my love for the game and I suddenly started doing everything with a lot more effort.

Unfortunately, with work and school, I have little time to play Runescape.  Though, my boyfriend has saved me from this, because I managed to get him into the game.  Now I can play more because I’ll be playing with him.  It’s all about that “quality time”, ya know.

In fact, he made his account last night, and my sister and I logged on to meet him.  Once we got there, I noticed that both my sister and my boyfriend play characters who look pretty much like they do in real life.  I do not.

So while Spencer looks like a wizardly version of himself with my hair colour, and while my sister looks like a tanner version of herself with lots of weapons, I look like a burly, white haired blacksmith with sideburns and sandals.  I’m sure the reason behind this is because I do play video games like a giant derp-machine.  I can’t even recall ever playing a character that was the same gender as myself let alone one that resembled me in any way.

The fact that Spencer’s character looks like him is hilarious to me, because we still talk like lovey dovey idiots to each other in the game.  So while we see the conversations as being perfectly normal, the other players see two burly men cooing at each other.

Now I enjoy a good man kiss just as much as the next, but since boyfriend’s character looks so much like him, all I saw was him nomming my Runescape character’s face.  It was such a strange mental image that I actually called my boyfriend and asked him if it was okay if I drew a detailed picture of him kissing Elfleda.

Also, completely unrelated, I just bought two tickets to see the B-52s, heeeeeee.

tl;dr I play runescape (username: Elfleda), Spencer and I are so gay, and LOVE SHACK, BABY LOVE SHACK. 

I have a plauge

I'll update when I don't feel like I'm dying anymore.

I have no idea if that's what the inside of my body looks like.  I just drew what everything felt like.

That last sentence reminded me of the first time I got knocked out for surgery. . .that sounds like good writing material.  Someone remind me and I'll write my next post about that.

Feesh

This one's huge, and completely drawn!  If you can't read anything, click the panel to enlarge it :)

 

 

 

 I should add, before I went up to see Bill I asked, "Is Bill naked?" and everyone said no.

My little sister is hilarious.

            I would first like to apologize for not updating last Sunday.  I had a super, super busy week full of lots of work hours and lots of sleep.  Hopefully this post will make up for it :D

            I called my little sister yesterday and confided in her that I didn’t really have anything to write about today.  She suggested the same thing she always suggests and then proceeded to tell me a rather hilarious story of her own.  Suddenly, it occurred to me that I could combine the two into one awesome post all about my bebe seestur.

Amber is absolutely hilarious.  Every story she tells me has me rolling on the floor busting my gut with genuine laughter.  Though, that seems more dangerous that hilarious. . .we’ll say she’s dangerously hilarious.

Sometime during the summer I answered my phone to be greeted by my already laughing sister.  Once she had calmed down, I asked her what was so funny.  She said, “You are not going to believe this. . .” and I knew I would have sore sides after she was done.

Apparently, my mom had bought some delicious, gourmet, chocolate flavoured instant coffee and neglected to tell Amber about it.  When Amber discovered it in the kitchen she read the “chocolate” part of the label, but not the “coffee” part.  She ended up partaking in the “hot chocolate” a lot that day.  So much, in fact, that by bedtime she was bouncing off the walls, shaking violently and in no way ready for bed.  She stayed up all night and played RuneScape.

 

She was still playing RuneScape when morning came and was so aggravated by her inability to sleep that she went into the kitchen and made herself another mug of hot chocolate.  

The day continued with no sleep and lots of hot chocolate, so naturally she was unable to sleep for yet another night.

Finally, on the third day of extreme lack of sleep, she crashed and slept for a million years.  

She woke up extremely bewildered and unsure of what had happened, so she figured a cup of hot chocolate would clear her thoughts.  However, this time she decided to read the label more carefully since it was the only thing she had done differently in the past couple of days. 

Then, upon discovering that she had been injecting herself with copious amounts of caffeine for the past two days, she burst out laughing and called me.

Another fantastic thing about my sister is that she has the inability to identify animals from a moving vehicle.  It’s hilarious, because half the time we have no earthly idea what she’s talking about.

 

The kangaroo one is my favorite.  It's not everyday you see a dead kangaroo on the side of the road in the southeastern united states.

My sister is also extremely tall.  I’ll wrap up this post with a size chart comparing me, my sister, my dad and my boyfriend.

            I'm not even all that short.  I'm pretty tall myself :I

And yes, this post was super all over the place.  I just kinda felt like putting as much stuff in here as possible to make up for not updating last Sunday :D  HOORAY FOR SLOPPY OVERACHIEVEMENT. 

My Mom is a Witch

            Life is full of some of the most magical coincidences.  There are plenty of people out there that don’t believe in such things and plenty of people who just don’t care.  However, there are events so fantastic that the only other explanation besides coincidence is that someone up there has the best sense of humor.  I’d put my money on a little of both.

            I myself believe that coincidences are some form of divine tomfoolery simply because it’s funnier.  In fact, I can recall a story where my mother experienced such an incredible coincidence that to an outside party she appeared to have some form of deity on her side.

            Several years ago when I was a tyke and lived in this house the first time (long story) we lived in an era of constant church badgering.  What I mean by this is at least once a week a couple of sensibly dressed men would ring our doorbell and ask us if we would like to hear about the lord.

            Being a generally pleasant woman my mom would usually politely tell them she was already a Christian and thank them for their time.  They were lucky she always got to the door before I did because even as a child I was quite devious and would’ve much rather terrified them beyond belief (or so my tiny mind thought).

 

            See, I don’t even know if that’s physically possible, but I wanted to do it and my mom never let me.  Not only that, but she actually managed to thwart my plans of ever doing it in the future.  How this happened was either coincidence, divine intervention, magic or a combination of the three.

            Again, several years ago, it was extremely stormy outside and I was forced to play inside to avoid all of the horrendous things that might happen to me if I were to leave the house.  We were all piddling around trying to avoid the rainy-day-blahs when the doorbell rang and everyone in the house stared at the door in disbelief.  There was thunder loud enough to shake the house and people were outside?!  My mom slowly opened the door.

            Standing there with umbrellas instead of bibles was a pair of sensibly dressed men wanting to talk to us about the lord.  You’d think severe thunderstorms would be enough to keep the church goers indoors but apparently they weren’t as sensibly minded as they were dressed.

            My mom just stared at them for a moment before she unleashed a very loud piece of southern mother wisdom.

        
            For those of you who have never been yelled at by a woman with a thick, southern accent try to imagine being yelled at by your mom but multiplied by a thousand.  For some reason southern accents seem to have the “Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again, ma’am” effect.  I’ve seen grown men cower in fear of an angry, southern woman.

            Her words wormed their way into the sensibly dressed men’s heads, most likely because they were both about 18 and imagined being yelled at by their own southern mothers.  Both of them responded with mumbled versions of, “Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again, ma’am” before turning around and walking towards the road.

            My mom walked over to the large window I was sitting next to so she could watch them leave and just as the sensibly dressed men reached the end of our driveway an enormous bolt of lightening struck the middle of our cul-de-sac about 10 feet away from the umbrella wielding church-folk.  They jumped into the air about ten feet and ran down the road as fast as possible.  My mom was speechless.

            As you can see, the above event is a perfect example of how a coincidence can be perceived in many different ways.  The sensibly dressed men probably ran down that road screaming about how some crazy, bayou witch had cast a lightening spell on them and the only way they survived was because they were preaching the good word whereas my mom and I saw that as the greatest coincidence that ever happened.  Ever.

            Since then, I have never even seen sensibly dressed men in our neighborhood let alone on my porch.  The peace is nice, but I’m still pretty pissed off that my mom stole my future chances of scaring these men with my delinquent tactics.  Then again, it’s not like you can top summoning lightening.