Talk Nerdy, the film

Hello guys and dolls!

Lindsay here, your plucky adventurer. I realize I haven't written to you fabulous people in quite some time. Apologies for that. When one is employed in creating all the things, one has a tendency to get caught up in everything. Luckily for me, I have a Misha to help set things to right. I also have the added benefit of taking a seminar in effective leadership and community projects; this seminar gives me rocket-boosters to whichever thing I've gotten my wee fingers in at the time and really refocuses my attention to one step at a time as opposed to my usual scatterbrained WANT TO DO ALL THE THINGS PERFECTLY RIGHT NOW. Don't lie, you know you've been there, too. <.<

I want to share with you guys what, exactly, has been taking up my free time and CPU. Many of you may know my professionl background is in the interactive entertainment (a.k.a. the video game industry.) This life-long passion for video games stems from a love of human interaction and the possibility video games have for becoming tools to help us interact with a world very quickly becoming impacted everywhere by technology. 

Growing up, I loved gaming for hours and hours. Summer vacation was the best. I could wake up, turn on my N64 and eat cereal and play Podracer, Mario Kart, Rogue Squadron or Golden Eye all day long. I even did an entire weekend solid of Day of Defeat, my first LAN party. And don't get me going on my dark, dark The Sims months. Those poor people... As I aged, I became increasingly aware of just how singular I was among other females my age who grew up doing things like sports or... cheerleading... /shudder. In my quest to find someone, anyone else like me, I discovered there wasn't much in terms of a someone I could look up to. There were "geeky" icons, to be sure, but not one of them was an adamant gamer. I would have to really dig to find any role models in the late '90's and the early 2000's.

I am lucky enough to have experienced some amazing things in this industry and have met incredibly talented men who share the same passion I do for games. And yet, in 2013, I still find it difficult to find influential women and their contributions to the industry highlighted. Anywhere. 

I want to change that. I am making a 20 minute documentary highlighting women in the gaming industry. I want to find female executives, coders, designers, programmers, artists, writers, talent and media personalities from across the globe and spotlight their passion for gaming and how they got to where there are now within the industry. I want to create an entire slew of women role models for the girls out there growing up, like I did, engrossed in technology and be able to have resources for future industry professionals.

I want to inspire everyone with this project, because it inspires me. And that's the long and short of it. 

I have some great resources at my fingertips, however, this project is geared to involve those of you out there who feel similarly inspired. Bay Area people who want to help, please send me a PM. If you have a suggestion on who would be great to interview, I will be grateful for your time in writing to me. If you know of anyone who would be willing to help get this shown at E3 in Los Angeles in June (hell, or shown anywhere) let me know. 

So that's my life right now. Kinda crazy, kinda big and scary and full of Doubt Monsters who like to come in and tell me I'm not good enough and no one wants to help with this film and gnaw on my brain at night (we have fun, Doubt Monsters and me.) I am being courageously self-expressed, however, and going balls out for this project. And I'll be giving updates weekly in my newsy show on my YouTube channel, so please be sure you subscribe there if you haven't (YouTube.com/geektroncodex). 

Are you interested in helping with the documentary? Do you have an excellent blog about geeky/ game-y/technology goodness and want me to share it around? Let me know! The way I see it: we're all one global community, why not celebrate each other, help one another and all be Bros? Dude bro. 

Hang loose,

Lindsay

Damn You, Shark Week!

Ahoy, fellow people!

It's been awhile since I've written to you folks. Remind me to do so more frequently. K, thanks. Also, Shark Week*. So, everyone can just... diaf.

ONWARDS!

I'm gearing up for another week of show prep, and I'm sourcing a ton of neat shit that's been percolating the ether since Friday. Holy shitballs, people. The world is a wacky place. D: I completed two photoshoots. One of which is me being a human chessboard, a pic of which is coming soon. The second shoot's pictures are up on my Facebook page. Go stalk at your leisure.

I also did a drunk stream extravaganza on Twitch.tv last Friday night. I had nearly an entire bottle of wine to my lonesome, and even in spite of my drunken debauchery I managed to glean some more minions... er, followers. I don't remember the latter half of the evening, however, thanks to modern technology, I am able to go back and relive the unremembered flaming glory. So glad I was able to preserve this moment for posterity's sake. Cheers, mothafuckas!

Being the genius I am, I decided that drinking a whole bottle of wine the night before I had to be on set for 12 hours was a good idea. Luckily enough for me, le Misha knows how to cure what ails his retarded girlfriend. So Saturday morning I was still a little... buzzy. But I had no time for such trivial matters. MAGEHAVEN WAITS FOR NO MAN. Or a hungover bitch. Whatever.

Saturday was my day to shoot my scene in the upcoming episode of Magehaven, a gritty fantasy web show. I play the barmaid, and Misha came along to be in the show as the barkeep. The entire cast and crew of this show are incredible. Seriously. I love being around pros whose passion really gels everyone together. I can't wait for everyone to see this shit. Fuck yeah, stuff!

And Sunday = Niners got pwnd. The end.

So that's what's been happening. I have lots to do, so I'm keeping this brief, like.. my... mom...? I'll try to blog tomorrow, as well.

Happy Monday, everyone!
~Lindsay






*Shark Week (TMI ALERT!!!)
= what I call my period. Because. Yes.
Profit??

Like a BOSS

Write scripts:
Like a boss.

Model undies:
Like a boss.

Grocery shopping:
Like a boss.

Make dinner:
Like a boss.

Edit shows:
Like a boss.

Dance Cancan:
Like a boss.

Manage workflow:
Like a boss.

Touch penis:
...wut? 

Hi Kiddies,

It's your trusty friend Lindsay here with another exciting blog post! I know, you've all been on pins and needles since last Wednesday. LET ME KEEP MY DELUSIONS.

Since I've blogged last, some pretty neat things have happened. Last Thursday I drove into San Francisco to retrieve a GoPro from a former co-worker. He was on set for a sci-fi web series, and upon my arrival, thrust his Rebel T3 into my wee hands and told me the director wanted me to shoot some behind-the-scenes footage. FUCK. YES. So I did. I got to hang out on set, where I ran into Jeremy Jones (of Pico Mause fame) who was there not only as the fight coordinator, but also main cast as well. He said the director wanted to see some of my acting work (of which I'm woefully short in actual video) for Season 3. ERMAHGERRRRRD. This guy, Jeremy, also sent Magehaven director Chuckie Marshall my way, and we're still set to film February 2-3, and he wants me to head up interviewing cast and crew for more documentaries about the series. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. Can't. WAIT.

Thursday I edited my video, and posted it Friday morning. Friday evening, Le Cancan Bijou was scheduled to perform at 9:37, so I took the GoPro and filmed this wee video of more behind-the-scenes shenanigans with the help of my best friends, Chalyce and Stefani. I thought a vid about what it's like for historical showgirls to do their thang at one of these events would be neat. Whatevs. Don't judge.

My weekend was full of projects and editing and planning the next 4 months. And Monday I edited the Edwardian Ball video. Tuesday I streamed on Twitch.tv. I really have the best audience ever. The dudes who patiently watch me embarrass myself twice weekly are incredible. If I ever am lucky enough to meet them irl I would hug them until they pooped. (And no, I'm not be facetious.)

Monday I had a "nerdy boudoir" photoshoot with a great photographer. More cute with Star Wars shirts and my coke-bottle thick glasses (which, if I may add, are NOT fake... I'm horribly blind... D:) Here's an iPhone pic I made Ian take to torture my poor boyfriend:

(Pro Tip: If you're a male photographer {hell, ANY dude could use this advice}, and you want to make women comfortable around you, TALK TO THEM. Ask them questions, make them laugh. Talk, talk, talk. If you're not threatening and desperately trying to get their attention, it's amazing how comfortable, and how far, you'll get with us. You're welcome.)

Misha has gallantly taken the reigns as my Head Writer for a group of amazingly funny people, and they've already punched this weeks' script up. Holy eff, it's going to be great. I'm working on scripts for the Game of Thrones video I'll be shooting in about a month with Jon and Tom of Mars Rising Films down in LA (and hopefully, Trucker Pirates will be filmed while I'm down there as well...)

I have another modeling shoot where I'll be recreating this picture.

I'm really excited for it. I never thought I'd be into implied nude modeling, however, as the concept of this shoot is me as a chessboard... yiss..... I shall take this job.

WHEW. And all that was in just one week. Who knew being your own boss would fill up all your time?? I love it though. So much win.

And that's all the time I have for you this week. I gotta go shoot my show and go buy ALL THE GROCERIES with le Misha. He's so dreamy.

Until next Wednesday, my people.

Stay classy,
Ron Burgundy. 

Don't forget to sub to my YouTube channel!!
youtube.com/geektroncodex

The Blog that Skrillex Helped to Write

Hello intrepid friends!

It is I, your friend Lindsay! Not entirely sure what this blog will be about, so just bear with me. It may even be amusing!

Let's begin with a wee bit of gloating: my former tenure at Curse garnered me some neat stats, my favorite among them being that 6 of the top 10 most popular videos on Curse Entertainment feature yours truly with the most viewed video having 122,974 views as of today. Ahem. Juuuuuust sayin'.

I seem to be getting the hang of this working from home schedule. I gotta say, it's a little tough... even though I don't have an imperious boss looming over me and telling me I suck anymore and the commute is really hard to beat. Hell, I can even work on my stuff without wearing any pants! (Proud to say that today I am wearing pants, thankyouverymuch.) Proof:

Where we're at: iMac is coming home again FOR REALS this time. My Weekly Geekly show will happen! FUCK YEAH. I have people in mind to interview, and I cannot wait for everyone to see the results. And even though my iMac was D-E-D dead, I still managed to get a weak-sauce craptastic video out yesterday, which is a rough concept for my Monday morning show.

Working on some video projects apart from the weekly show, like Magehaven. We shoot in February and I get to show off my l337 ren faire skills.  And thanks to Pico Mause and her boyfriend Jeremy for the lead on this one.

Also working on ASOIF video with my Beastie, Jon, from Mars Rising Films down in LA as well as Trucker Pirates, a Grindhouse-esque movie trailer about revenge and... trucker pirates. I get all ass-kicky in this one.

Streaming seems to be going well. The learning curve on League is really steep, especially since I never really PVP'd before. I kind of panic and mash buttons until I die or am able to outrun whomever is stabbing me. Also on the list of streaming shenanigans is to play some Minecrack with David and Toby from Minecraft Forums. Hopefully, Sacheverell will join as well because I love me some Sach. In that way. Want to also organize lowbie raids in WoW.

And there you have it. All the news that fit to print. Or something. I'm going to head offline now and clumsily strum my banjo and then head to Cancan rehearsal. HISTORY NERDS FOR THE WIN.

Please be sure to share this to your friends, and check out my YouTube channel: www.youtube.com/geektroncodex. Sharing and retweeting really does go quite a long way to help, so thanks to those who help. To the rest who just take and take and take: TAKE THIS:

KTHXBYE,
Lindsay

Noon Came and Went, or, Feck Off, Universe

Hello trusty friends,

It is I, your Failure for the Day: Lindsay. Let me preface this post with a picture of the Monster Coffee (and our Rebel for comparison) I have to get me through today:

My protestations of having my new show debut at noon today seem to be for naught. I'm sure some of you may be curious as to why I've gathered you here today. STORY TIEM, KIDDIES. Grab a seat and some crappy popcorn, because this is funny. In a sad WTF kinda way. It's how I roll, bitches.

Yesterday, your pals Lindsay and Misha retrieved our crApple from its' 4th vacation on the exotic island of Fuck You, We're Apple and We'll Take our Sweet-Ass Time Fixing Shit. Our way home was delayed by me forgetting my driver's license at the Apple store and having to turn around with no U-turns and using an Ikea parking lot to flip a bitch, little old ladies driving 10mph, women crossing intersections with their strollers, a million red lights and I'm fairly certain a vengeful, angry Universe telling us to calm the fuck down. \o/

So, we get home. I was patiently waiting on the Class Fucking 10 SD card. It arrived early. And it also happened to arrive the same time construction dudes showed up to install new windows in our penthouse. They were scheduled for Wednesday, but being in cahoots with the Universe, they arrived the day I was supposed to shoot.

Fuck. OK. Whatever. I'll just hang out. And by "hang out", I mean spin my wheels and sit stewing in Impatient Soup. So the installers finish up around 4, leaving me alone to my own devices. Now, I'm not sure how much experience y'all have with shooting video. It can be a real old bitch sometimes when you have a whole crew and shits' not lining up and you're hemorrhaging money. Shooting video by yourself with manual focus on a 50mm lens? I felt like Sisyphus with the largest goddamned bolder you've ever seen with Oprah perched on it.

 

Being the super awesome bad-ass that I am, however, I persevere. I do some test shots to test focus and white-balance, and prep audio. Everything is set. I shower, get my Face on, look reasonably attractive but nothing to skanky. I'm going for that credible look here, people. I know my bullet points to keep me on track, know what I'm going to say and I even have some funny quips about cats and the new Illumiroom from Microsoft. I'm set. Speed on camera. AND GO.

10 minutes, and I'm done with Take 1. That is, until I realize I forgot to get speed on sound.

/sigh. OK. So all is not lost. I can do another take. I can use the footage I shot to check out how everything looks, and make any adjustments before doing it again for realsies this time. I remove the brand new Class Fucking 10 card from my camera, and thinking "I sooooo got this" I slid the card... INTO THE CD READER. NOT the card reader.

In one fell swoop, I managed to mangle my iMac (and guaranteed the 5th vacation) and lost the brand new SD card. Stand back everybody, we have a bad-ass over here. <.<

And that's the long and short of it. I spent the rest of Thursday crying all over the place like a depressed hippo and watching the West Wing, because Aaron Sorkin is a genius and I wanted to make myself feel awful for not making Aaron Sorkin-caliber content immediately, and by myself.

I'm going to stream some League of Legends while I discuss what I was going to talk about on my show after I take a nice, long walk around the lake across the street. Nothing makes me feel better about myself than seeing homeless people fighting over refuse brought in by the watershed. Also, I may have promised to be a second for one of them, as it often comes to blows and they need someone to hold their garbage when they get into fisticuffs.

And being the hormonal Sharknado clusterfuck that I am right now, I'm going to leave you all with my renewed hopes of having my show air next Friday at noon.

Happy Friday, you awesome people.

Much love,
Geektron.

P.S: Thank you to Stefani, Jon and Misha from talking me down from the proverbial ledge. Tough days are tough.

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned from the Internet

Hello dear friends,

So we've come 6 days from my last blog post. In that time, Misha and I have been working diligently on our studio:

We have training.
We have editing software. 
We have lights.
We have sound.
We have picture.
We have composition and focus.
 We even have a possible sponsor for the show already.

Super duper, right? What's the deal? Why am I writing this blog and not filming ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW OMFG?

Well, funny thing: when learning something new from people who have been at it for some time is that small details seem to get glossed over and spackled as common knowledge. Because, of course, *everyone* knows you need a special class of SD cards on which to record your video data using a DSLR. Like, that's basic Video 101. Duh. Everyone knows that shit.

Everyone. Except for me. Fuck me, right?

So here I sit, impatiently waiting on our 32 gig, Class Fucking 10 SD card to finally show up so I can get this goddamned show recorded. Coincidentally, I learned all about SD cards from Google. Take that, Kindergarten.

So that is what is up on this cloudy and cold Hump Day in California. I'm confident the show will be posted by Friday at noon on my YouTube channel. But don't worry: I'll be sure to spam the crap out of it. I won't give you the option to miss it. I'm a giver, what can I say? ;)

Stay classy!

~Lindsaurus Rex

My Kingdom for Coffee

Hullo friends! 

Lindsay here, continuing to chronicle the journey to dominate the wily and mysterious Internets. Elusive bugger. COFFEE! Must... drink... all the coffee! Ack! Troubleshooting is such an energy-zapper. Who knew?

Today brought a new (to us) Canon Rebel T2i! Thanks, Random Guy on Craigslist! And HUGE thanks to Misha for his super hardcore mode in driving our asses nearly 2 hours roundtrip to hop on a great deal. /hi5 I think that's his Mutant Power. And now that the focal point (heh) of our Sky High Studio has arrived, we're finally able to iron out the next kink in our massive, sprawling plot-line. Joy! 

Up next for us: to have our Battle Station fully operation by Tuesday. I have a show to produce here, people. Troubleshooting thus far has been the biggest time-sink. The learning curve is quite steep, and testing compatibility between OS X and Win 7 is a tricksy Hobbitses. Not sure if any of you have experience with this sort of thing, however, we are more than accepting of suggestions, advice and recommendations. 

The little I was able to glean from working with others, as well as Misha's inestimable ability to keep us moving forward and organized and flush with everything we need, has served us in getting this venture off the ground. 

Thanks to the support of you amazing people, we now have subscribers on my YouTube channel. I suspect this may be the only time where the number of subscribers will be higher than the number of videos for awhile. I'm so totally O.K. with that. For now. /shakes fist

I'll check in with y'all tomorrow for another post about the goings-on with us. I'll also be streaming some League of Legends on my stream, Lindsay Online, at some point tomorrow. Calloo callay! 

I shall end this post with what will become standard: PLEASE be sure to spread this around like jam on toast. Your reposts, likes, shares and Tweets really do more than money can right now, and it really is just the click of a button. Also, please be sure you like and sub to our channel and FB page, and follow us on Twitter. 

The Facebooks

YouTubes

Twitter

Own3d.tv

Look at it this way: if we garner enough support through you guys, we'll stop spamming you! We all win! ;)

xox

Lindsay

HALP!

Hullo again friends!

We're in search of a camera! While we have have nearly everything else, our current camera does not meet our requirements for producing web content. SADFACE.

We're reaching out to you, our community, in order to remedy this sad situation. If you, or anyone you know, happen to have a Canon DSLR capable of 18 megapixels or higher simply hanging around unused, we'll be more than happy to borrow it from you for an extended period (heck, we'll even buy it off of you if it's in good condition and you're willing to part with it!)We're looking at Canon 5d and 7d. We're not married to those, however, we would like to stick with Canon cameras. We're open to other Canon suggestions...

We're not opposed to buying a new camera, however, we'd like to give you all a shot at getting rid of that DSLR no longer in use (if that's the case.)

Let us know whether you're able to help out!

Much love to you all!

I'm a lunatic, part deux.

Hello, dear friends!

It's been almost an entire month since I've left Curse to their own devices, and I am finally ready to share with you guys what, exactly, I've been doing. Like my hero Luke Skywalker, after spending several binary sunsets weighing my options to stick with the Empire or to wander off and find some crazy hermit in the desert, I've decided to hitch my wagon to the hermit and run away to join the Rebel Alliance. That's right, kids. Through careful plotting (no small feat aided by my resident Wookiee/producer boyfriend) and a metric fuck-ton of courage, your creepy pal Lindsay is goin' rogue. I want to be internet famous. I have a lot of knowledge, and I have QUITE a lot to say, and I have a unique way of delivering it. Here's my strategy:

First: I'll be bringing you all the latest gamer news every Friday at 12 noon on my YouTube channel. I'm retaining a show concept I started while at Curse; since my interest in video games drives me, I feel I want to share that with my fans and the world. The show will be primarily me for the first month or so, and then I'll feature correspondents and other features as scheduling allows. (Have ideas for segments? Want to contribute? Email me!) I'll also be blogging regularly so you can follow my process! (LINK)

Second: We're goin' streaking! (+5 to you if you can name that movie.) Or streaming. Whichever. Really though: I've got my own3d.tv channel up and running. I'll be streaming League of Legends around lunchtime my time on weekdays. I fell in love with League of Legends, and primarily so because of Riot's Summoner's Code. I had the privilege of checking out Riot for the NA World Championships down in LA last October, and I met some great Rioters. What they stand for in e-sports and in the larger gaming industry in general are things that resonate with me. Does NOT help my addiction to Sona.

Third: World of Warcraft is what really launched me into the PC gaming stratosphere. In order to pay homage to this most august of games, I'll be organizing events randomly throughout the year which anyone can attend and play (don't worry, you won't need to pay for anything if you don't have the game... it's free until level 20! kek...) so keep an eye out for that schedule on my Facebook page. I also play Minecraft with some really fabulous people, and you can play with us, too. Or I can check out your map and do a video of it, if you want. I'm not limited to just those games, so ping me if you want me to check something out... this is my plate ATM: Hawken, Smite, Tribes: Ascend, PS2, Torchlight 2, D3, WoW, LoL, MC...)

Finally: One of the reasons for my abandoning Curse was because I was told my extra-curricular activities  were deemed "worthless." I happen to politely disagree. In fact, I think there's so much worth in what I do on my own free time, that I'm going to film it and put it on my YouTube Channel. While too numerous to list out (and to save you all from a diatribe on the nitty-gritty) suffice it to say: I'll be producing video content based on these extra-curricular activities. Could be anything from a return of the Baroness (LINK) to my retarded banjo plucking to cosplay events to historical re-enactments to more serious work with other avid filmmakers of my geeky ilk. Yes, Beastie, I mean you.

We need your help! No, we're not asking for money. We're asking for your support, and what that looks like to us is your time in retweeting, "Liking", reposting and sharing the content we're making. That's the only way we'll ever get some momentum. It's really easy, and we'll be forever grateful to you if you wish to support us in our quest for Internet Fame. Ideas, contributions, leads, names, time. All of the ones!

I'll also be making another short announcement about the technical details and whatnot, soon to follow this. I want to thank those of you who have made it to the end of letter. You're fucking rockstars and I love and respect you the more for making it this far.

I look forward to bringing each of you all sorts of entertainment in the very near future.

May the Force be with you,
Lindsay Geektr0n


tl;dr. I want to be internet famous. Please to help! Clicky-click link for more infos. Kthxbye.

How Tripod Lost His Leg

I've been a crazy cat lady before I knew what a crazy cat lady was. I was born a cat-loving goon. So it stands to reason that I would love all cats (and animals for that matter) in a ferocious, determined way. Every. Single. Cat.



People are funny: the more they get involved with something and learn of that somethings' quirks, the more they become snobbish and dull about it all. Buttons are one example. Coins, stamps. Shoes. I know someone who likes yarn. A lot. You name it, and there is some poor sap out there who is completely and utterly obsessed about it and can tell you all about that commonplace item he so raves about until you're dead and he's blue in the face. And then they get a complex about it. Button superiority, coinage hubris. And they're discriminate little buggers. Very discerning customers, those item fanatics. And they love to regale people of how amazing their thing is to everyone in the vicinity; this is why I'm bad with small talk, by the way. I cannot seem to join in their cultish love of shoes. I stand there awkwardly nodding to everything they're babbling on about as if I had some insight or interest.



Pet people are no different. You get dog snobs who turn their noses up at yippy little things hanging out in purses, and small dog lovers who hate clumsy slobbery beasts, especially as they knock into everything. Snake people hate bird people, fish people are lonely little sods, exotic pet people are right out, ferret people hate everyone and so on and so forth. But cat people are a breed all their own.



It's not so much the physical appearance of the cat they go on about. It's the personality. This one is a shit, that one is stupid. Mitsy has a co-dependency with a stuffed bear. Mopsy gets angry when we leave for the weekend and pees on the bed. I'm certain you've heard it, and if you've heard it and did not immediately worry, then I'm positive you are a cat lover. Cat lovers get off on stories of other cats being horrible, selfish creatures.



I am immensely guilty of such exaggerations. I revel in them. I am, however, a cat connoisseur. Everyone I know has normal looking kitties. You get the exception of the Hemmingway types (the polydactyl cats who look eerily like they have furry little hands, which then leads to the even eerier theory that, once they've evolved thumbs, then it's the beginning of the end for man-kind...) and the cross-eyed Siamese. But nothing in the way of a weird cat. This is where I gleefully come in.



I posted a blog about one of my cats, Pharrah. You know, the one with the eating disorder who successfully drove the sea lions from Pier 39 (because, I have discovered, they were jealous that she out-sealed them)? Well I have another one. I collect them, you see. I had Ophelia, that sad, strange little thing who had a water fetish. She would still be with Mother had the mother ship passed her over. It didn't. She loves it in outer space. /squish

In light of my eclectic collection of feline companions, I thought I’d all introduce you to my newest little bundle of fur: Tripod. I fucking hate his fucking name. And so does he. Know why? Because it rubs it in his face, every day, that he has to make his way through life with only three legs. Yep. I have a “special needs” kitty. I think the definition of that is wide, and as a result, I have aptly expanded it to include all of my kitties as “special needs” kitties.

I found Tripod in a Pet Smart cat adoption fair. All the cute, normal kittens were purposefully placed within eyesight, all healthy and shiny and spritely. I love to love kitties in cages, as it rips at what semblance of a heart I have; I do it to remind myself that it is still there and beating, despite what I may think. While ripping at my heartstrings, I stooped down to peer into a dark cage at the bottom, and I see this huge kitten. He’s thoroughly depressed, covered in fleas and has the ominous name of “Tripod” on the little placard. At first I didn’t see his nub—that shiny pink little thing. But as he slept, I caught glimpses of it. And I knew I had to have him. The little old lady seemed dubious at first, but then delighted in the fact that, yes, I did in fact want damaged goods. He was a steal at a discounted price. I think they calculate cat prices like they do cars. This cat comes factory standard, fully loaded. This one has some miles. This one was manufactured just last month. This one has some parts missing, so, we’ll discount the price for you to make the offer more attractive. I was sold. I’m a sucker. Bite me.

When I was buying him cat food after getting him in his box, the clerk was so happy he had another home, because, according to her, he was returned. Who the fuck returns a cat? Peter O’Toole and maybe some other weirdos. Whatever. He was mine.

  

(CALIGULAAAAAA!!!)

I love to gleefully tell people I have a 3-legged cat. It amuses me—they cannot believe it. Sometimes, I get people asking how he lost his leg. My need for attention takes over at that point, and, with the spotlight on me, so I wax hyperbolic different accounts of T-Pod and his Compton days, or some other such nonsense. So I’m here to set the record straight once and for all:

Saigon- 1968. During the Tet Offensive, T-Pod flew a solo mission just after midnight, shortly before the first battle of Saigon. The main point of this was to completely overtake all military operations of the Viet Cong army amassed outside of the US Embassy in Saigon. While the battle primarily fought on the ground, raged, Tripod with his kitty instincts, fired heavily on the advancing enemy, which then drove the Communists back. In retaliation, the Viet Cong army fired on the air strike raiders, downing several planes, including solo pilot Tripod.

While Tripod went down, the US Embassy did not. The Viet Cong army failed to meet their military objectives, in large part due to the daring aerial acrobatics of our hero. Luckily for us, T-Pod’s wrecked plane landed in friendly territory. His life was spared, but he lost a leg in the crash. To him, it was but a small price to pay for driving the enemy back and saving the US Embassy. It is still a point of pride to him to this day. He was honorably discharged and given a life-time supply of catnip, which he promptly sold for booze.

The end. 

Gerald the Very, Very Large Spider

In San Francisco, you don't get much wildlife. Occasionally, you get a feral male cat who likes to bite defenseless 3-legged kitties, and lots of pigeons, but that's about it. The only genuine wildlife we get here in this city are hobos. They range from gargantuan to sickly skinny, fully toothed to toothless and every age from 16 to 80. It's bizarre, the wide variety of hobo. There are seasonal, varietal hobos as well as hobos whose public frequency is dependent on temperatures. 

Knowing my luck, however, I was bound to stumble upon something not many people get to have. And as my luck would have it, that something had eight legs. And large mandibles. 


Gerald. 

Gerald was a spider. More than that, Gerald was the spider who decided it would be a smashing good idea to set up shop in my window sill. The cats paced anxiously on the other side of the window, mewing at him. He didn't seem bothered, but I'm sure he had a tough exterior which only coated the soft, loving spider he was deep down. He had all his legs, all his eyes (I think) and a very impressive set of pointy teeth-things. And he was big. He was also an attention whore.


Gerald was disconcertingly placed in my window ledge, and would often look down on me as I slept. His pointy leg-hairs and the creepy way he spun his web all made me rest easier knowing I had him to watch over me. This one time, Pharrah decided she wanted to eat Gerald; I recalled  her back inside, but her tail caught the bottom of Gerald's web, and she took it with her. Gerald managed to salvage the rest of the web, and in the morning, a very disgruntled spider was re-spinning his web. He hated Pharrah ever since. Pharrah had it out for him, specially when I began to take pictures of him...


I would come home from work to make sure Gerald was still there-- talking to him, checking to make sure he had eaten. Boy he was HUGE. And a little creepy. 


And then, one day, when I woke up... Gerald was gone. He literally packed his web up and flew the coop. I don't know if the cats ate him, if I had accidentally swallowed him when he went to hug me good bye, or... what... but he was gone. :-( No web, no Gerald, no nothin'. 


I like to think Gerald finally got that job promotion he'd been going on about and moved out into the suburbs where he could finally buy a house, get a dog and meet a nice lady-spider (or male spider...) and live a quiet life. Maybe he would pick up Shakespearean acting in his off-work time, join a nice Masons group or get a part time job in the mall during the holidays as Santa Claus. 

Now I feel better about potentially swallowing him. Goodie!

All I Need to Know I Learned at Renaissance Faire

In light of the upcoming Renaissance faire season (at least for us Northerners), I have taken it upon myself to give back to the faire community. It is a community of givers and people who work tirelessly for themselves; who toil and slave away endless to climb that invisible social ladder that exists in all theatrically-minded microcosms. This community, chock full of inflated creator-types has much to teach the bottom feeders like myself, and I cannot express to them how invaluable I find their hard learned lessons have been. For who knows better about myself and my private dealings more than the mob? Vespasian knew this, which is why he began construction the Coliseum. I hang tenuously on every single word, every single opinion they have to gift me. For in that short span of three months comes the culmination of thousands of peoples' lives from all walks of life who share a single goal: popularity. Like Nero, I am seizing upon the mob's love of theatrics to better myself. However, I am reciprocating. It is to this community I bestow my gratitude and am giving them back what I hold dear in my heart: everything I need to know, I learned at Renaissance faire.

1. Share everything. Including your personal life, in great hyperbolic detail to everyone and everything. The higher you are on the Great Social Ladder of Renaissance Faire, the more people care.
   
2. Play fair. But only when you're being watched closely. Otherwise, sling mud profusely. You'll look like an ape when you do it, but boy! It sure is fun!
   
3. Don't hit people. Except when they're down or they're trying to steal your business but fail due to their own ego being twice the size of the actual man.
   
4. Put things back where you found them. Except for your personal morality and sense of accountability.
   
5. Clean up your own mess, only if you spill your alcohol on someone. Otherwise, your personal mess is for everyone to share in and get involved with!
   
6. Don't take things that aren't yours, unless it's married spouses, tankards, opening weekend business, ad space, volunteers and contracted acts.
   
7. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody, but only after faire has been closed for a month.
   
8. Wash your hands before you eat… wait, don't wash your hands before you eat. It's not period.
   
9. Flush. Wait. Nevermind.
   
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. They cause you to forget you're a rational adult and put you right back in the 7^th grade. I mean, we all act like it anyways, right?
    
11. Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. And by "play" I mean slosh around in a vat of jell-o or mud in a bikini a size too small while a real-life cartoon takes pictures of you and posts them for creepers to see. Also, Catholic School Girl Night counts as "dance."
    
12. Take a nap every afternoon. In the street. While being paid. Because you can. It sets a great tone for the faire.
    
13. When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together. Unless you're trying to climb the Great Social Ladder of Renaissance Faire, in which case you're free to gouge out eyes, slander, insult, berate and lie. Popularity is the key to having fun. Being popular is fun. Fun is cool.
    
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that. Also, be aware that Styrofoam cups and raccoon tails and cat ears aren't period… and facial piercings, and off-the-shoulder-chemises…
    
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we. So live it up! Get really really drunk and insult a few patrons!
    
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all – "LOOK," is all well and good, but "DICK" is the operative word.
    

Well, my throngs of adoring groupies, I'm glad you've enjoyed this. Feel free to reprint it for your own benefits. I would be honored, but I would also expect it. I look forward to seeing you all in less than 2 months for our glorious Opening Day at the Renaissance faire! :D

How to Survive in Los Angeles

The Greeting:
It is of the utmost importance to make your greeting as loud and attention-getting as humanly possible. The first impression has more to do with how you greet someone then to whom you greet. If they are a good friend, you may forgo the formal greeting and you may commence with slang terminology. Note: Learning slang may or may not be helpful when dealing with Hollywood talent agents. Learn at your own discretion. See Slang, below.

What You Need To Begin:
What follows is a list of recommended staples one would need prior to moving to LA.

1. A cell phone (two if you plan on using one as a "business line.")
2. Some kind of addiction. Cigarettes are preferable mainly because everyone smokes; if you opt for a drug of some kind, crack cocaine is the only way to go.
3. Some kind of complex, but "little man" syndrome is not recommended. Tom Cruise called that one in the '80's and you want some kind of originality.
4. The presumption that you are prettier /better / more talented than the current Hollywood elite.
5. Some type of network where mindless bodies are readily available for miscellaneous reasons (see The Friendship.)

The Friendship:
Throughout the duration of a friendship, formed purely for selfish reasons, call only when you need an entourage to make an entrance. Drunken groupies make you look like a stud. Form networks of other Struggling Actor/Model/Singers so you can rely on each other in times of desperation. The friendship should only be continued in the light of dismal failure (wherein you both bemoan the life that is a Struggling Actor/Model/Singer). The friendship should be discontinued only after prominent success or if the said friend attempts to kill your career. Attempts at killing you will only give you an edge over the others, and thus should be overlooked as a favor done for you.

A Ride:
Never be seen using the Metro. If you need transport, use the Metro or Orange Line only in the cover of darkness and even then, Bono-type sunglasses and a do-rag are recommended. If you can, mooch off of someone else in your network who owns/steals cars. (Reality Note: Grand theft auto does exist in the real world-- it is not just a video game. If you're riding in a stolen car, be wary of speeding and loud gangster rap. Cops run plates. Minimize attention to self by listening to smooth jazz.) But failing all these and you are reduced to walk everywhere, walk in style. Ladies, do not remove your stilettos. You look cooler when you arrive in heels. Cool is fun.

Food:
Don't eat. When you eat, it implies you're human and weight gain/aging. That isn't cool-- skinny is. Besides, with the diet regime of coffee and cigarettes, who needs food? But if you must eat, vegan is the stylish way to go (think Pam Anderson. She's cool.)

Clothing:
Women, the less the better, unless you're a recent transplant and have yet to get on the Cigarette and Coffee diet plan (See Food, above.) Men, as long as you're tan and buff, pretty much anything goes. Except mesh. And flannel. Designer clothing is a must. Save up all your money to buy Chanel or Prada or Gucci, and then to look cool, wear all three designers at the same time. You'll bring to mind Paris Hilton. And that's cool. Don't worry about rent (see The Friendship) because with network friends, you can mooch a couch or and air mattress for a few months. Keep in mind: couch hopping is acceptable only in the Valley. But no one wants to let a network friend borrow their favorite pair of Jimmy Choo's. Don't even ask.

Starbucks:
A word for newcomers to the Los Angeles region: you will find a Starbucks within a half-mile radius of your domicile. Find the location nearest you. Go everyday (Tip: along with spending money for designer clothes and your cell phone bill, section off a chunk of your money solely for coffee.) Go twice a day. The sooner you've got the day and night shift of the Starbucks calling you by your name/drink, the sooner you can bring a date or your entourage. Having others know you by a first name basis builds up your reputation. Plus, it makes you look cool when you play it nonchalantly in front of prospective one-nighters. A one-nighter is someone you plan on sleeping with only once in a drunken flurry. Men should do this frequently. Ladies, if you must do this, be discreet unless you idolize Tila Tequila.

Slang:
In this town of informality dressed up in Italian silk suits, you need to know both ways of speaking. Taking speech classes will help you rid yourself of any annoying regional dialect you may have from the continental states or an accent if you are from anywhere else besides Canada. However, Australian and English accents are acceptable, but only if you're able to do a decent American accent on command. But in order to communicate effectively with today's youth, find a few useful slang words and pepper your lexicon with them. A few good ones to try out to your dog or plant:
1. "Holla" (basic definition: What's up, attractive fe/male? I want to talk to you but the only coherent thing I could think of was "holla". Please think that I am cool.) "Holla" is to be said outside of context only if something really cool happens and cool seems so ubiquitously said.
2. "Bone out". To "bone out" means to get your ass in gear and scram, which should be used while in a car and you need to leave quickly.  
3. "Home-girl/home-boy". Referring to someone you consider being so close to you, they could live at home with you and you wouldn't mind all too much. The exact translation was lost years ago.
4. "Ill / Sick / Tight." Before the 2000's, each of those words had their own respective definition. Now, they've all been reduced to a singular meaning: "Cool."

Of Religion and Politics:
If you are a conservative, you have two options. 1) Do not let anyone know. Conservatives can survive in LA if no one knows you're one. 2) Switch sides. Liberals have more fun anyway. And fun is cool. A few things you can say in public to gain favor: "Bush sucked." "This country's going to hell." "Big oil sucks." Repeat as needed. And if you belong to any of the Western religions, find an Eastern one that seems similar to yours. Then switch. Western religions are so last century.

Agents:
Every Struggling Actor/Model/Singer needs one. If you don't have the money to afford one right from the get go, forego the Starbucks and save your money to get one. In the meantime, a temporary solution is to have someone back home like a sibling labeled "Agent" in your contact list on your cell phone. Then when they call and "Agent" pops up on Call-ID have them pose as your agent. No one with you will know the difference. And then when you've saved up the money to get a real agent, casually let it drop that you've switched agents because the last one didn't do anything for you except call you. You'll seem cool. 

Nightlife:
Get one. In LA, there are lots of local clubs and bars to frequent, especially on the Westside. Learn all of the restaurants and little cafes open after midnight. The more obscure the place, the cooler you'll seem to fellow entourage members. Here is a recommended sequence of events, which should transpire almost every night: After that quad-shot of espresso (see Starbucks, above), shower and dress with extreme care (when complimented, off-handedly mention that you just threw something on. You'll seem cool because of your natural flair for chic.) After you're ready, call your network friends, and find a place to get shit faced. Stay out until Last Call or security has to forcibly remove you. Either way works for going out with panache.

Failing All of the Above:
If it happens that you do not achieve your goals, you have one choice. Go home. You stay at the risk of being sucked into the world of Adult Entertainment or being a waiter for the rest of your days. Good luck!

 

Celebrities, or, Why I’m Awesome

These days, you see pictures of movie stars and other various celebrities plastered everywhere—like a rash you can't get rid of. It's itchy and has weird bumps and you don't know what the hell is going on but you know you're uncomfortable and you just want it to GO AWAY so you can get some sleep! >.>

But what is more annoying than just the itchy bumps and interrupted sleep caused by mere photos of spoiled people? When the spoiled people try to tell everyone else who isn't famous how they are "just like us!" As if. I read all the time in interviews with celebrities how "we feed our kids ourselves!" Or: "we clean up after ourselves!" Or, my favorite: "we get our own groceries and make our own dinners!" And they spew that with such enthusiasm! I think they're expecting applause after uttering those rehearsed lines. Hello… this isn't the Awards Show of You and you aren't getting a stupid trophy for wiping your own ass.


It's almost as if they're retarded, or 2 years old, and they have to announce to everyone how they can do mundane things and expecting us to all exclaim in unison: Aw! Good job! Who wants a cookie? Oh. Wait. They can't eat cookies. Their contracts specifically state: No carbs or refined sugar until they hit 30. Expiration date, you know. Social networking sites do not help matters at all. Sites like Twitter and Facebook are yet another forum on which those brain-dead monkeys can self-postulate and peacock. Joy of joys. -_-


I wish I got a cookie for doing what I was supposed to do with my own two hands. Hell, I'd collect those cookies and sell them to schools so I can at least make some money DOING WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO EVERY GODDAMN DAY. I love how the stupid-rich movie stars try to glean every scrap of attention from everything. They shouldn't be called "celebrities," they should be called "opportunists." Srsly.

Conversely, I could become completely lazy and dependent on the external reinforcement of others, and refuse to move or feed myself unless I'm guaranteed a standing ovation. Let the games begin. People who do things so mind-numbingly stupid or lazy or socially irresponsible that it hurts: kind of like Octo-Mom, or the woman who is actively trying to weigh 1000 pounds.


But I think what really bothers me most about those people is their complete delusion. They really think everyone just gobbles this shit up like it's the greatest way to spend an afternoon watching other people feign normality. Incredulously, they believe what they have to say is important. I like to think of it as the Bono Complex. Pure narcissism is like pure cocaine. Shit hits hard, roughs you up and leaves you feeling more used than Vietnamese hookers after 1975. Too soon?

One day, I'd like to become the most famous Geek Girl EVAR. And when I do, I can assure you all that I will be the most lazy, self-promoting, selfish creature on the planet. I'll lock myself away and become a hermit, playing World of Warcraft for days on end—and I'll emerge only to work the Renaissance Faire or to do something so blindingly retarded that my royalties income will be secure for another year.

It's the American Way. Manifest Destiny! Onwards to Oregon!

Aw, shit. I just died of dysentery. Press space bar to start over… /fail

My friends, Jordan Grout and Shao Tam

I'm positive everyone out there has that 
one friend of which you're simultaneously ashamed and proud. You know: the dweeb who laughs a little too hard at dead baby jokes while in a Babies R Us. We know they are weird, we know they are loveable. We know that they are really fucking awkward. And we keep them around for a myriad of reasons. I happen to have such a friend. Well may you be surprised. LOL.

His name is Jordan Grout and he is an Irish piece of shite. Now, Jordan is one of the categories of Guys Who Go by Their Middle Name. You know, the quasi-douche M.O. "I think my name is so boring, so I'll go by my more interesting middle name. It works on chicks."

I know several of these guys, and while lovely in of themselves, I can't help but not take them wholly seriously, and I giggle at them, sometimes to their faces. Jordo claims he moved from Ireland as a toddler, but I know otherwise. They kicked him out. The Irish forcibly removed Jordan from their country because he's a gigantic asshole. Even as a baby. Now, when I met Jordo, he was going through his Cave-Man phase. 

He was creepy. He was hairy. He sat in the corner of our poetry class and made weird commentary which was amusing only to him. And yet, in spite of that, we became friends. To this day, I have yet to find a redeeming quality besides his ability to turn into Caveman Jordo. We've never had any adventures or journeys that seem to be a staple to enduring friendships. What we've had instead is mutual, irreverent sense of humor. I, of course, am far superior and better at pretty much everything. But I keep Jordan around for a basis for comparison. Also, he introduced me to Brian Peppers. How can you not keep that person around?? He laughs like a baying hyena, which is a great hobo-deterrent.

There have been legends told in the San Fernando Valley of this creature, this Jordan Grout. I mean, with a name like "Grout" how can one not make up wild (and mostly true) tall tales? I once heard Jordo wrestled a rabid Joan Rivers after a plastic surgery session went south. It has been said he managed to subdue the Wild Rivers with his crappy Irish teeth, peed on her to counteract the acidic stinging venom spurting from her eyeballs and hog-tied her to a Hummer; the city of Westwood gave him a medal—which he promptly laughed at and smelted into a chastity belt. He wears it to this day.

Another redeeming quality Jordo has is his buddy, Shao Tam. Jordan, in a moment of pure spite and genius, decided to give my phone number to this tubby Asian fuck whom I'd never met (and have yet to meet in person to this day) who promptly began to harass me. Daily. And even sometimes at 2 AM. "Tits"… no joke.

Shao Tam is diry and wrong and inappropriate. And Asian. I have a sneaking suspicion he listens to disco music dressed in shiny spandex a la Richard Simmons. From what I understand of Shao Tam the Wortheless Hobo is that he is some kind of chef in a crappy restaurant in Glendale, CA. Why they would let this monster filled with volatile gases near anything served to other human beings is quite beyond my comprehension. But as long as he's not near my food, I can sit back from a comfortable distance and laugh. And I do. A lot.

Seeing as I've never met this fuck in person, I find it only appropriate to make up some things about him for my amusement.

1. Shao Tam wears shiny spandex and listens to disco.
   
2. Shao Tam is retarded.
   
3. Mullet.
   
4. He has Pant-Weasels.
   
5. Shao Tam was the inspiration for Jabba the Hut. 

           =















Well folks. That's all you're getting. I will leave you with Brian Peppers time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuOxnflYQ6E

MAYO!

-- County, USA—The Annual Mayonnaise Festival happens every year, but for some, this gathering of Mayo Aficionados is a brand new, and big, deal.

Held in the height of summer for one week, mayonnaise makers, eaters and friends set up shop on the east block of High Street and have a grand old time. One booth, run by some of the original participants since 1978, Bertha and George Mason’s We Love Mayo!  draws large crowds year after year. They offer homemade classic flavored mayo, but they also put some twists on old classics.

“We cure one line of our mayo with red chili peppers for about 6 months,” says Bertha, 79, of –County. “Folks our age can’t eat it, what with digestive problems and whatnot,” she continues, “but that doesn’t stop ‘em from trying,” she says with a wink, and nodding to the near by Port-o-Let.

Just down a way from the Mason’s classic booth is the newest addition to the festival: Hot Mayo.  “It’s our way of telling the world how new and hip this festival really is!” Missy Smith quips. Smith, 29, is the newest appointee in a long line of Public Relations administrators for –County. “We want the MTV Generation to come on down and be able to enjoy themselves along side their grandparents.”

Hot Mayo features two main attractions, not so much selling mayo per se, but selling an image the tiny host town is trying to renovate. The first is a large, clear vat of mayonnaise outfitted with a dunk chair on which local high school cheerleaders perch, waiting for the chair to drop them into the melting goo. Contestants line up and throw baseballs at a bull’s eye lever. “We’ve noticed we get a broader demographic with this one than with the kiddies’ pool filled with warm mayonnaise,” Smith muses. Smith doubles as the high school’s cheerleading coach. “The prospect of throwing something at a pretty girl seems to hit home with the other girls from school who might be jealous of them,” Smith goes on.

On the whole, Hot Mayo draws the largest crowd, using a pass-the-hat method to raise money for the cheerleading department. The kiddie pool, indeed, did keep audiences’ attention much longer: young girls in bikinis rolling around in the yellowing glop makes people want to drop their dollars.

“Overall, this looks like it’s gonna be a good year,” Bertha Mason surmises, looking into the setting sun on opening day. Silhouetted against the sunset, the ever growing line of elderly people for the Port-o-Let brings a smile to Bertha’s face. “It’s only going up from here!”

So This One Time, At the Mall…

This past weekend, the S.O. and I went ring shopping (squee!!). You know how malls are all packed to the gills with crap you don't need, and like, 12 million jewelry stores? Well, this one was no exception. We popped into the first jewelry store we saw. Jewelry salespeople are like vultures: they see the innocent carrion and they hover and circle until their pray makes eye contact.

We were in the store for about 20 seconds and BLAM! Weasel-Stalker-Guy pounced. He was one of those skinny, pale, greasy guys who thought his quasi-Hitler mustache was attractive. 

OK, now I understand that salespeople work on commission, and I understand that you have to be persuasive and forceful in order to make a sale. But there is an invisible line that must not be crossed, no matter how badly you want a sale. I'm talking about Mall Stalking. 

Its one thing to be weasel-y and pushy. It's quite another to become a weasel-y and pushy stalker. 

The S.O. and I decided we didn't like this jewelry store's offerings, we said we were still looking, and moved on. Weasel-Stalker-Guy followed.

To EVERY. SINGLE. STORE. 

I only wish I was joking. I didn't notice until the S.O. pointed it out, 3 stores in. 

S.O.: "That salesguy is following us."    

Me: "Who?" 

S.O.: "The guy from the first store. He's, like, followed us to every jewelry store."

Me: "No way! I don't even remember what he looks like." 

I turned and looked back to the store we'd just left and sure enough, that smarmy fuck oozed his way around the corner, glanced at us, and preceded to chat up the salesguy we'd just left. WTF. Who does that?! Why us?! Does anyone else have problems with similar Weasel-Stalker-Guys?! Seriously!!

I start panicking and acting sketchy myself, thinking I did something wrong and Weasel-Stalker-Guy is going around warning the other jewelry salespeople that my S.O. and me are horrible people who like fucking with salespeople. And we don't buy. If he was trying to convince us to go back to his store and buy his crappy stuff, he was going about it the wrong way. 

So I'm panicking, and looking behind me at the Weasel-Stalker-Guy and he catches me looking at him, and looks guilty. The S.O. is gallantly going ahead with looking at rings, I'm freaking out because we have a fucking Weasel-Stalker-Guy in a MALL and I have to pee. Just great.

It was at that moment I took out my level 264 staff with +788 spellpower and beat Weasel-Stalker-Guy to death in the middle of the mall. 

I just lied again. 

It was only +600 to spellpower. 

Whatever. 

Sue me.

My Creepy Poem

I decided I'm going to be Bubba from Forrest Gump. Everyone needs a friend with a shrimp fetish.

i see my shrimp fetish has made you distant and cold towards me.

well if that's how you're going to be about it, i'm going to send you buckets of shrimp to your house.

and leave shrimp poop on your pillows

and give you shrimp AIDS!

you know how dirty those fucking prawns are

PRAWN SEX

lolololololol

i'm amused

fukkin loooooooooooool

Brian Peppers Time!

http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Brian_Peppers

HIGHLY amused

i don't need you

or your speed

what, what?

did someone say speed?!

i mean

crank

er

...

rat poison?

lolol

are you off diddling Brian Peppers?

If so, type 1

If not, type "I love bleu cheese made from vagina yeast"

Jesus hates prawns

Jesus hates prawns time a million.