The Eclectic Abecedarium

I will be attending as Natasha Batti-Loupstein from Neglected Murderesseswho "pulverized a paste necklace and sprinkled it over a tray of canapes, Villa Libellule, Nice. 1923."
You should go, especially if you're a bearded or brooding man with a suit who likes theatre and edward gorey. You know who you are.
Wow, my pool of friends makes so much sense right now.

Mom Would Be So Proud

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Very High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Extreme
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Extreme

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

I'll see you there.

97% Chum Free

Ahoy. What I've learned so far this week:

-A brake overhaul be worth precisely t' same amount as a 400 GB hard drive. T' t' cent, tax and/or shippin' included when necessary. (Sources: Midas, Newegg)

-There be no such thin' as a twenty-minute nap, don't kid yourself. Drink a cup o' coffee and suck it up. (Consistent with previous findin's, file under "old habits":crossreference: "die hard")

-Use your parkin' brake. All t' time. Arrrr.

-Me pirate name is "Catherine Hagerty Rough Tougue" and I intend to use it today (after smart five hour nap). I'll be goin' by Caty Rough Tongue for short. My ship be "The Damned Strumpet", just as soon as I get her from t' shipyard. So avast ye lubbers! Strapon the dildos! Batten down the butt plug! You and you grab a cock ring, and meet me on the poop deck!

-Me inner pirate be more Dave Attell than Davy Jones. What's it to ye?

Need A Fix

Internet Crisis, Day 6

Greetings from the University Center.

The powers what is turned off the internet to our houses because someone has a virus, and won't give it back until every single computer has been scanned. This was painful Thursday night, but I have gone certifiably batshit in the days since. I'm so spoiled, without the internet I have no clue how to do anything. When armageddon comes, I hope I get killed off early because life just won't be worth living once the electric grid goes down.

So, of course, I hauled my computer to main campus today only to discover Gmail is down and Blogger has amnesia.

The weekend, however, didn't give me much of a chance to miss my beloved internet. Visitors are the best, especially ones that make funny noises when they sleep, and crack me up every two seconds when they're awake. The "First Ever Craft Center Shopping Cart Race" and Moustache Party were terribly amusing, and I sold all my pieces at the Cookeville Fun Fest. As much as I love to sleep in, it's nice to have an early riser around every now and then to wake your hungover ass up and drag it to Hardee's at 8 a.m. to fuel up for a canoe trip. It gave us the fortitude to confront the tiny water mocassin that managed to get bigger every time Howie mentioned it, and eventually came to define the lake, and no doubt, bodies of water in general for him. Still, we had a blast, and my guest bed now sits empty and awaits the next victim.

I upgraded my flickr account, and all my old albums and pictures reappeared. Woot. Go now and enjoy updated Shopping Cart Race and Moustache Party coverage.

Reason #45,875 why I love and need the internet: YouTube Responses