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Apr. 10th, 2012

I'm in my happy place

Mass Effect fanfic: Longing

I can't post this on FFN, so I may as well post it here. Rating is MA for explicit adult content.

For those who aren't my LJ friends, all comments can be directed to me on the BSN (username acidqueen5426). :)

Not work-safe, not kid-safe, abandon all hope ye who enter, &c.Collapse )</p>

Jul. 5th, 2009

Sightless Eye v2.0


It's been reported that there are rumors that Sarah Palin is under investigation by the feds over the matter of her house and the Wasilla (Alaska) sports complex being built at the same time by the same company. There are rumors that there were kickbacks and shady dealings involved.

The facts are that there are rumors about this.

So, because I said that, does that mean that Sarah Palin's lawyer is going to threaten to sue me?

I hope so. I need a good laugh.

Sep. 8th, 2008


Oh, so he's "sorry" now.

Johnston County sheriff "apologizes" for generalizations about "Mexicans".

And if anyone thinks that apology is sincere, I've got a bridge, some swampland, and a nice copper-plated statue for sale. CHEAP!

When I was in fifth grade, I had a teacher (and a few classmates) who used to regularly sling racial slurs at me because it was assumed that since I was born in SoCal, tanned easily, and could (at the time) speak passable Spanish, I was Hispanic. Wetback, border-jumper, bean-eater, greaser...you get the picture. Just because I'm not Hispanic (I only "look Mexican(sic)"), that didn't and doesn't make those terms any less offensive to me. My mother couldn't complain to anyone at the time, because in small-town North Dakota in the 80s there was nobody who would listen. The school board certainly wouldn't have paid any attention--they were content to simply go along with altering my school records so that my sister and I were marked as "Hispanic", so that they could get money from Joe Fed for having "minorities" in the district. When I finally left that town, it was (and still is) a great blessing to me to be quit of that place.

Even now, it still gets assumed that I'm Hispanic--again, because I tan easily (I'm quite brown right now, despite my rosacea) and I speak passable Spanish--and I have to hear that same shit all over again, combined with being told to go back to a country that I've never even visited, much less have roots in. So yeah, though I am against illegal immigration it still chaps my ass hardcore to hear people acting as if everyone of Hispanic origin is in the country illegally. It burns me to hear people calling for Hispanic children to have their citizenship taken away, just because one or both of their parents might have entered the country illegally. What did the kids do wrong, except be born? Would these same fuckheads be calling for their citizenship to be yanked if they were white and from, say, Ireland?

Human nature being what it is, I highly doubt it.

I can only imagine how it is for victims of human trafficking that were lured here with the lie that they were coming in and would receive a Green Card on arrival, only to be kept as slaves in sweatshops or brothels--and then, when freed by the police and given what amounts to refugee status (because they'll be in mortal danger if they get sent home), to hear ignorami calling for them to be deported as if they willfully crossed the border illegally. Again, if they were white and English-speaking, would the ignorami be raving?

And again, I doubt it.

Jun. 9th, 2008

Sightless Eye v2.0


Pyzam Family Sticker Toy
Create your own family sticker graphic at pYzam.com


Mar. 12th, 2008


Dear Nazi scuzzwipe on the Wolfline bus this morning:

I realize that you hold dear the works of such notable people as Adolf Hitler, David Duke, the late William Pierce, and other leading lights of humanity.

However, I think we need to come to an understanding about something--specifically, your use of the term "Aryan" to describe yourselves. You see, the word "Aryan" has been grossly misused since the 19th Century. It most correctly refers to the people who originated in what is now Iran. When used by you and others of your cerebrally-challenged ilk to refer to people of Euro descent, it is rather incorrect.

In other words: Anyone of Iranian descent is more Aryan than a "nice" Northern European Boy like you.

Yes sir, the Ayatollah Khomeini was more Aryan than you are. Zubin Mehta is more Aryan than you are. Even the late Freddie Mercury was more Aryan than you are.

Still don't get it? Let me spell it out for you using pictures so that your feeble mind can comprehend it:



Please keep this in mind the next time you want to spout off about "Aryan racial purity". Fuckin' idiot.

Feb. 7th, 2008

Sightless Eye v2.0

Let's just round up all them filthy mutts and put them down like the dogs they are!

(The subject line is heavy with sarcasm)


In a nutshell: Some loser decided that it would be funny to send out a chainletter saying that there were Muslim women in full hijab practicing for a 9/11-style attack on--get THIS--"the North Hills Movie Theater" (which doesn't exist--it's the Regal North Hills Stadium 14). It's been investigated and found to be completely bogus by the RPD, but of course there are still some morons (one of whom shall not be revealed to be named Judy Allen of the Country Club Hills subdivision just off Glenwood Avenue) who believe the letter and are STILL forwarding it around even though it's been proven false by the RPD and debunked on Snopes.

I quote:

Raleigh resident Judy Allen first heard about the e-mail Sunday night from a friend at a Super Bowl party. After her friend forwarded her the message, Allen said she forwarded it again to another dozen people, including a friend whom she knew was planning to take her daughter to see the Hannah Montana concert movie at North Hills.

"It rang true," said Allen, who passed the message along primarily to members of her Country Club Hills neighborhood's community watch program. "We just wanted to do our part to protect the community. It's important to keep your eyes open."

Yeah, because everyone who "looks Muslim" is immediately a turrist, you stupid fucking cow. I hope that you don't have kids, because it bugs the piss out of me to think that yet another bigoted moron is going to be polluting the genepool with her filth.

Jan. 24th, 2008

Sightless Eye v2.0

Oh for the love of Tyr.

They called my OLD phone number, even though I made it CLEAR in writing that the number had changed four years ago.

Which means, of course, that I have more than likely lost the appeal--but you know what?

At least it's over now.

Jul. 4th, 2007

Sightless Eye v2.0

Lest we forget WHY we celebrate this day:

 IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident...Collapse )

Hail the brave men who put their necks on the line to secure our independence. May their sacrifices not have been in vain.

Jun. 6th, 2007

Sightless Eye v2.0

I am pretty OK with this.

Mostly cos it's pissing off all the Detroit fans and everyone who pisses and whines about teams in the Sunbelt--but also because I remember 2003 and how hard Rob Niedermayer and JS Giguere and the rest of that crew played their asses off.

Those guys finally got their reward. Teemu finally got his reward, after his wanderings away from the Pond and back again. It makes me happy, because it reminds me of the Warchief five years ago when he lost and then last season when he finally got a Cup.

My Golden Bitch? Fuck him (not literally--who do you think I am, Christine Chorley?). This isn't about him. This isn't even really about geographical boundaries or the Mason-Dixon Line (which doesn't really apply to California) or any of that other window-dressy bullshit.

Yeah, I was barracking for the Sens. I felt it would be quite fitting (and nice) to see the first team to win the Cup after the Cup went to the sole possession of the NHL win it again after 80 years, a Great Depression, a World War, a Cold War, and a reincarnation--who better to break the Canadian cup drought?

The spirits of the Silver Seven are calling to their latter-day successors to come and join them in immortality.

Deyr fé,
deyja frændur,
deyr sjálfur ið sama.
En orðstír
deyr aldregi
hveim er sér góðan getur.

Cattle die, kinsmen die,
the self must also die;
but glory never dies,
for the man who is able to achieve it.

The spirits will be waiting a while longer, as will Elgin-Alexander, the Senators' littlest Einheri. But don't lose hope, Sens fans--your boys will get there.

Congratulations, Ducks.

Dec. 12th, 2006

Sightless Eye v2.0

The Roadtrip Diary, Day 5: Game Day

So yesterday was the big day: I'd get to go to a hockey game with my sister. The game didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, but it was still fun to spend time with Shawna. We didn't get to the Can until right before puck-drop, which just floored me. "Don't you want to watch the warm-ups?" I asked. And Shawna was all like "Why? Those are so boring."

I got a lot to teach my sister about hockey, yo. Srsly. Soanyway, the game.

Compared to the RBC, the crowds at the Pepsi Center are D to the U to the L funkin' L. MAN, they are dead here! Of course, I'm used to a constant level of noise and insanity at the RBC. I tried to bring some Section 328 mojo by shouting "CHEATERS! NEVER! WIN!" whenever an Av went to the box, but of course it backfired on me. It amused Shawna, though.

Shawna went down to the Altitude Authentics store between periods 2 and 3 to get a baby-jersey for the Flea, and a blog-buddy of mine gave her an Avs puck after the game. So that was cool. I'll have to cash in my empties and buy a Canes baby-jersey to send to Flea, so he can have one to wear at home (Avs) and one to wear on the road (Canes). ;) The one thing I was hoping to be able to do this weekend (track down the Warchief and get him to sign a puck for the Flea), I couldn't do. I was tres bummed by that, but I guess you can't win 'em all. I'll still have three days after I get home from Denver to do something like that.

After the game, Shawna and I talked about the game--and we agreed that it was fun even if my team got pwnt. It was just so nice to be able to actually DO something with my sister, especially cos I got to tell her why I was laughing at Patrice Brisebois for coughing up JWill's second goal and why Budaj was in goal instead of Jose Hilton Theodore (translation: Breeze-by got regularly manhandled by the 'Canes when he was with the Habs, and Theohilton has pretty much been the Canes' bitch since 2002).

The fans were pretty cool. Had one bloke ask me a couple questions about the 'Canes (who we lost, etc.), and chatted about the Staal brothers with these three cats that were sitting in front of me. And the best part? NO FUCKING CHEERLEADERS. Shawna was astounded at how happy I was that the Avs have no freakin' cheerleaders like a bunch of other teams do. It was SO nice to see a hockey game without having to see a bunch of camel-toe queens running around.

Soanyway. After we got back to the house, and then this happened. I was LMAO right up until the combination of mead and Tramadol knocked me on my ass and I had to go to bed.


Dec. 10th, 2006

Me and my little kitty

Roadtrip Diary, Days 3 and 4: Why am I here?

So yesterday, I got dragged off to Shopping Hel. Shawna, Brett, and I all went out to get clothes. First stop was the Carhartt dealer out in BFE, so Brett could get some insulated pants and work boots (and spent the last of his clothing allowance from his employer). Then it was off to Wal-Mart, where Shawna insisted on buying me several new pairs of pants whether I liked it or not.

Those of you who have known me for a while know how much I despise shopping. It's depressing and a drudge, and I hate it more than I hate the Red Wings (and y'all know that's a lot of hate right there). So now I have four or five pairs of Wally World-issue sweatpants, since that's all that my fat ass will fit into. Yeah.

Then we went to Noodles & Company for lunch. I was frickin' starving. I've been totally starving myself this whole trip outside of whenever Shawna and Brett eat (or when Shawna tells me it's OK to have something to eat), because I don't want to hear about how I'm always eating blah blah blah. Yeah, that's my family. At least my mother isn't here, or I would definitely be hearing about it.

We got home around 6:00ish, and Brett and Shawna packed up Fletcher to take him to the babysitter's house so they could go to a holiday party. Shawna told me I could have one of these frozen red curry things that they have in the freezer downstairs, so I had one for dinner. Then I watched a holiday cake challenge on the Food Network, popped a couple Tramadol and a Flexeril, and went to bed. I had thought that Shawna and I would be heading up to a casino in the area for a few hours today, but....

...at around 8ish this morning, Brett's work called--a main broke and they needed people to come in and get it repaired ASAP. He wasn't on-call, so they shouldn't have called him, and he could have turned it down--but he didn't turn it down, so he went in. Shawna was upset, because she was looking forward to hitting the casino while Brett stayed home to take care of the Flea. I was looking forward to it too, but apparently not as much as Shawna was. I'd have probably lost my ass anyway, as shitty as my luck is.

(And yes, the grapes are good and sour.)

Here's where my frustration is setting in. I offered to help Shawna around the house, but she said no. I tried to help her with Flea, but she won't let me near him half the time. I offered to help her with the baking that she's going to be doing later, but her answer was so noncommittal that I'm taking it as a no.

Why the Hel am I here? I didn't come all this way just for a frickin' 'Canes game that I'll wind up watching by myself, because Shawna can't sit in the 300-level at the Can (so she'll be spending the entire game at the bar) and Flea isn't ready for big noisy crowds according to Shawna. If I wanted to watch my team lose by myself, I'd have stayed home. And I know that sometime soon, I'll start getting hailed on about sitting in my room all the time and not socializing--when I'm not being allowed to do anything to be social in the first place.

Just goes to show that I can't win for fuckin' losing.

Dec. 8th, 2006

Sightless Eye v2.0

Roadtrip Diary, Day 3: Mmmm...abbagabbas

Got up in time to see the Flea off to his daycare this morning--he gave me such a big smile! I about melted right into the floor, it was so cute. Last night he was really cranky (and wicked hungry, too--he was eating almost the whole evening!), but this morning he was all happy-baby again. Shawna would let me take care of the bebbe, but she figures that since she paid for the daycare she might as well use it.

So I spent the day cleaning up the dishes from last night and trying to find other tidying-up type stuff to do around the house. I'm the house-brownie. :p Finally got hungry at about noonish, so I made myself a toasted ham-cheese-avocado sandwich, and oh it was of the good. Shawna thinks it's funny that I'm calling her to ask if I can raid something in the fridge, but Hel--I haven't been able to contribute anything, so I don't feel right just digging in without asking.

BTW, avocados (or abbagabbas as Shawna used to call them when she was little) are love. Seriously. Sliced, with a tiny bit of kosher salt on them....mmm!

Talked to Mike again last night. Or actually, I IMed him last night. I was on at like 4 this morning, and all of a sudden he IMs me all freaked out.

Mike: Hey
Me: Mornin
Mike: you need to look at the account and I mean right now

I couldn't log in, so Mike told me that two PayPal payments were made from our account to Seibel. I facepalmed and said:

me: Seibel is EasyPay. That's our power bill. Christ, don't you pay attention? I told you this the LAST time you freaked out over seeing that entry.

To make a long story short, Mike freaked because he doesn't seem to feel that it's important to remember that EasyPay processes all credit card-type payments for Progress Energy. *sigh* Can't live with him, can't shoot him. So that finally got settled down, and then Mike asked if Shawna has a PayPal account--because if she does, then he'll PayPal her money for me so that I'm not a freeloading oaf any longer.

I have tickets for Monday's game (thank you verysomuch sisterthemoon!), so Shawna and I will be hopefully taking the Flea to see the Warchief and company. *dances* I'm fully intending to head down to the Canes end of the ice with a sign--that would rock if I got on FSN. ;)


Even better would be a sign for Flea saying:


I'm so excited! I get to see the 'Canes on the road for the first time since 2001! *dances* More will be going on this weekend, I'm sure--so I'll save the longer posts for then.

Dec. 7th, 2006


Roadtrip Diary, Day 2: Keeping up with Somnus

No, not the leet-level green dragon in the Swamp of Sorrows that loves to gank unsuspecting lowbies.

Anyway--last night after I made that post, the three of us went down to Applejack, which is like the liquor store to end all liquor stores. Redstone mead, $12.99/bottle! Whole Foods in Raleigh has it for $21!! It was all good and all fun and games, until we got to the register and the clerk carded all three of us.

Oh shit. Of ALL the people to leave her ID at home in her suitcase, it of course had to be me.

Shawna was like "Are you kidding? She's older than me!" But before the clerk could say anything, I jumped in with "No, no, she's just doing her job--it's my fault for being a dumbass and forgetting to bring my license with me. We'll just go somewhere else and I'll stay in the car." Then I apologized to the clerk for wasting her time, and we left.

So we wound up going to this little mom-and-pop jernt near the house, and Brett and Shawna got their hooch. I, of course, went without--though Shawna might take me to Boulder to tour Redstone this weekend, which will be cool. Soanyway. Our paychecks went in last night, and I paid the power bill to keep it from being shut off--I also asked Mike if he could send me some money, and he was like "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be a freeloader on my sister's good will? I can only clean her kitchen and help her take care of the bebbe so much, you know."

Oy vey.

Not a lot going on here today--Shawna and Brett are at work and the Flea is at daycare, so I am trying to be as unobtrusive as possible around the house (and I cleaned up their kitchen for them--hopefully I got everything put away in its proper place). I'm trying to stay awake, but it's hard--Tramadol + tot of Harvey's + sleep-dep catching up with me = teh sleepy!

And then there's the phone call I got from Mike this morning. Progress Energy said "Thank you for your payment, we're shutting your power off until you come up with another $200." Lovely. Just lovely. So now I'm sitting here like "great, and there's nothing I can do--what, you want me to come home now?" So he's going to ask around and see if there's somebody with a Progress Energy account that he can ask to "co-sign" our account so that we can get the power back on without paying the $200.


So that was the evening and the morning (and the afternoon) of the second day. I'm going to nap some before Shawna gets home.

Dec. 6th, 2006

Me and my little kitty

Roadtrip Diary, Day 1: The more things change....

Right after I posted my last message this morning, I grabbed my bags (which had everything packed that I needed, for once) and hauled ass out the door with Mike in tow. He hopped into his car, I hopped into mine, and we left for the Neutral Zone. We got there at about the same time, and then I had to sit and wait for about 10 minutes while Mike went inside to leave a note for Dena.

And then came the fun part--I had to lead him to Kenny's place so he could drop Oppenheimer off. OMG, the man drives so fucking slow. Kenny's is 5 minutes from the Neutral Zone, tops--it took us TWENTY MINUTES to get there, because I had to keep slowing down to wait for Mike. I was so mad when we got there, I about left him.

I got to the airport at 5:10 AM, and fortunately there was no line. So I checked my big bag, endured questioning from the AirGestapo about why I was going to Denver (because apparently a fat woman in a red and black peacoat wearing a 'Canes T-shirt and a backwards 'Canes hat just SCREAMS "ZOMG TURRIST"), and meandered to my gate.

Those of you who read the Roadtrip Diary from my trip to Denver may remember the fun I had with American Airlines treating me like shit because of my size. United, so far, has been the total opposite. I got on the plane and couldn't sit in the seat they assigned me because it was too narrow for my hips and the armrests didn't raise. So I had to ask the flight attendant if I could move to another seat, and she said "Yeah, there are plenty of seats in the back and the flight's not full. Go ahead and move, it's OK." And she brought me an extender too. It was very kind. The flight attendants on the flight from Chicago to Denver were just as nice--but damn, that walk was a pain in my ass (and my legs). I came in on Concourse D and had to walk all the way to Concourse B. Blah.

(Flea says hi by the way--and OMG, he is cuter in person than he is online!)

Soanyway. I got to fly on a 777 today, and man is it a nice nice plane. I spent the whole flight watching the Food Network, cos I am just all about Chef Duff blowing up a cake and those handsome Deen boys rollin' down the road in a convertible. :D That flight was full--but at least I could put armrests up, so it was all good.

When I got on the ground in Denver, I meandered down to baggage claim to get my big bag. Shawna came over and joined me after I'd been there like 10 minutes (she got there late), and we waited another half-hour or so for my bag to finally show up. Then we went out and packed it all into the Jeep, and headed out. One thing I've been looking forward to about this trip is the chance to eat some REAL food. I'm surprised my body hasn't given out on me yet, considering how much garbage I've eaten over the last year or so. So Shawna and I went to Whole Foods and got some stuff, then went to King Soopers (better known as Kroger to those of us east of the Rockies) and got some other stuff.


The trip to King Soopers got real fun when my back seized up on me and my hips felt like they were being torn apart. So Shawna made me to get one of the little motorized gimp-carts because she didn't want me to have to go back out to the Jeep and wait for her. Those things are fun--but the "horn"? Wimpy as hell--but funny when I have to back up. :D

When we got to the house, we offloaded my bags and the groceries, then went to a local Chinese/Vietnamese place for lunch. Saigon Bowl is of the good (and the cheap)--if you ever come to Denver I recommend it. After lunch, we came back to the house and I popped a Tramadol and went to take a nap. Woke up and finally got to meet the Flea, who is an adorable adorable baby--and a strong grip, too! I played with him for a little while, but then he decided he was hungry so Shawna went to feed him and I came down here to listen to the game.

And that is the morning and the evening of the first day.

Nov. 22nd, 2006

Sightless Eye v2.0


Egyptian Zodiac Thingamadoodle--viked from RebeccaCollapse )

Oh, how strangely appropriate.

Five things I'm thankful for:

The Chancellors
The Flea (which reminds me, I have new bebbe-spam for you all--I'll pry post when I get home tonight)
OK, and family too. Sometimes. When there's no drama.

Rumor has it there's a freeze warning out for tonight--I really hope that's not the case, because I do NOT want to drive home on ice. *sigh*
Sightless Eye v2.0

Interesting things that I have discovered....

....during my tooling around ancestry.com:

1) I'm 1/8 Swedish, rather than 1/4 as I'd originally been led to believe. Does this make me half as evil now?
2) I'm 1/8 German--which is interesting to know.

So that sorts out Grandpa's side of the family, at least. Grandma's side, I'm still not too sure about. Since nobody on that side of the family will speak to me, I don't know who (or where) I can get info from.

My Grandpop lied about his age (and his birthday was 8 August, 2 days before mine). That amuses me for some reason. I imagine that it amused Grandmom too.

I need to get a hold of my mom to get some background on her side of la famiglia.

Sightless Eye v2.0


Dear paternal side of the family,


For the love of Frigga, people. TELL ME THIS SHIT.



Dear Ancestry.com,

Thanks for helping me find my father's address so I can send him a Holiday Greeting of Folded Paper.

Holy fuck, he's 59?



Nov. 21st, 2006

Hail to the Hammer

I thought this was kinda cool.


Best general overview of heathenry I've ever seen.

Nov. 20th, 2006

Hail to the Hammer

Hockeyin' it down on the heathen tip, y'all (and cooking rambling)

Cooking ramblingsCollapse )

Ever since 19 June, I've been feeling way different regarding my outlook toward teams that I "traditionally" hate/loathe/despise/whatever. It's strange and wonderful at the same time. Is this what it feels like when your team finally gets over? It's like...I dunno what it's like. Like people can say whatever they want about my team or me or my town or my fellow fans, and I don't care as much as I used to. Go ahead and bash my team, I've got better things to do with my time than to get upset about it--like helping to show the newbie Caniacs the wonder and love that is hockey. I feel like I can get on with that personal task, now that I no longer have to break off time to fight other battles. I want everyone to experience hockey, to come to know and love it as I do, to know the truth in the old Fred Shero quote:

We know that hockey is where we live, where we can best meet and overcome pain and wrong and death. Life is just a place where we spend time between games.

I touched on it a little bit more here, in the hockey blog. It was a little rambly, but it's the summation of the feelings I had all through that playoff run--all the anger and the fear and the sadness and finally the joy and relief.

I think that, on some level, I've achieved satori--that amazing state of epiphanic enlightenment where your eyes are suddenly opened and you "get it". I may not go to games, but I treasure each game I go to for what it is--a touch of spiritual fulfillment, a golden opportunity to spend time with the Gods while watching the Einheriar duke it out on Iðavöllr. The NHL can "sanitize" it all they want, they can turn it into something where fighting becomes a Flowery War that protects miscreants rather than the rough Tyrian justice that it always was and should be, but they can't take away the fact that hockey is the last sport where man truly touches the divine and learns something about himself in the process. Other sports come close, but hockey....there's something about the inherent danger in those sharp blades and the sticks and everything that raises it to another level.

When I see Rod Brind'amour camp his orcish ass in front of the net with his stick at the ready, he's more than "just a player". He's a warrior lying in ambush. Put a sword in his hands and swap mail for the pads, and you've got a man girded for some old-skool warfare. Man is closest to the realm of the divine when he's balanced on two very sharp blades of steel and fighting for a little hunk of rubber--all my years of hockey-watching have convinced me of it. Danger awakens in us the very real possibility that we can die, and episodes like Clint Malarchuk's throat being cut open by a skate-blade and Jiri Fischer almost dying on the bench remind us of that. From that possibility arises the desire to become closer to something greater than ourselves. Few hockey players are atheists--in some way, they all believe in something because they've touched that something on a nightly basis.

It's the most terrifying and perfectly liberating feeling one can have. It really is.


Jun. 19th, 2006

Sightless Eye v2.0

I never thought I would see the day.

The circle is now closed.

Feb. 22nd, 2006

Sightless Eye v2.0


...am I the only one who doesn't care that Team USA lost?

And I'm probably the only one who hopes Team Canada gets wtfpwnt by the Russkies, because I'm still irritated that they refused to put Eric Staal on the roster. "Taxi squad", please. He's better than all the centers that are on the roster except Thornton--better than Draper, better than Richards, better than Sakic--and yet he gets snubbed because he's not a Friend of Gretzky. Fuck 'em.

Heia Sverige (except agin the Czechs).

And how sad is it that I actually find myself not wanting to post my opinions about stuff in my livejournal anymore, because I know that everything I post that isn't a meme or work-related will carry with it a high probability of somebody getting all bent out of shape and bringing the drama?


Go Czechs


May. 30th, 2005

Sightless Eye v2.0


I'm pruning the flist of people that I haven't been paying a lot of attention to or that I really have nothing in common with. Also cutting old journals, people that decided to deflist me without a reason, that kind of thing.

Spring cleaning. If you got prunz0red, don't take it personally.

Feb. 23rd, 2005

Me and my little kitty

To all those new arrivals:


No doubt you've found this livejournal through a link from Jes Gölbez's Hockey Blog. Either that or you're from letsgocanes.com and you guessed that my username there is the same as my username here. Either way, welcome.

Most of the entries here are friendslocked. You'll find a few public ones, and I'm sure that they'll give you a chuckle or two, but unless you're 1) a LJ user and 2) on my friendslist, you won't get much out of reading my journal unless I feel like sharing something with the world. :)


Feb. 22nd, 2005


Ayep, he done drunk the Kool-Aid.

Very interesting comments. These are from 14 January 2005.

Erik Cole interview in the Berliner Morgenpost, 14 January 2005Collapse )

And the translation....

Pretty soon everybody's going to want to go to RussiaCollapse )

Dec. 2nd, 2004

Sightless Eye v2.0

Something that'll make you think twice about going to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.


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Sightless Eye v2.0

April 2012



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