It's like lemonade- Sweet, Tangy, and Refreshing!

March 25, 2005

Flipping Squirrels

Why is it that after a tough week where I just can't help but pull my hair out that I require a bit of destruction?

No, seriously.

Now, I'm not one for video games. I couldn't tell you what happens in Final Fantasy IV, or how to beat Ganonwhosits in Zelda. But my brother just happens to have a hand-me-down N64 that he got from Pat. It was my own fault that I bought him Perfect Dark. Then I probably wouldn't have tried Conker's Bad Fur Day at all.

Perfect Dark was an N64 game that I bought used out of GameStop at the Galleria for Tarrith. He'd been talking about how he needed more games, and it looked intriguing. But then again, Drac was with me and an avid gamer- so just about anything he reccommended sounded intriguing. And somehow, I forgot for two days that it was a shooting game that I had bought him- and that it was my duty as a sister to play it with him. It took me about a month before we switched the settings to paintball mode permanantly.

The thing about Conker's is that he plays the main games alone, and plays the multi-play games with me. At the wedding, JR flat out told me- in about ten words or less- That I had no killing instinct. (When the man's right... he's right.) Which is probably why I take such minor delight in slicing nazi teddi bears (teddiz) into green goo as they splutter and mumble angrily.

The slicing is because- unlike Perfect Dark, I can't properly weild the weapons to shoot before a Katana-teddi severs my grey neck from my body.

Despite the fact that Conker was a tame side-character in an earlier game, the apparently warm and fuzzy atmosphere of the game from someone watching someone else play the main portion belies the more adult content within. And when it's at it's zenith, it's downright hilarious. Or disgusting. Depending. It's a sense of humor thing.

On the whole, though, watching my character poing like a bouncy ball, doing air-flips that belong in Crouching Teddi, Hidden Squirrel, I can't help but wonder...

Does this have anything to do with the outspokeness towards dad's Squirrel-catching?
.
.
.
Nah.

March 22, 2005

Water, Water Everywhere

I wake, look out my window, and see rain. Then I check my Google- How appropriate.

It's World Water Day.

Now, I hadn't heard anything about this holiday, had you? Apparently it's a new world event, like the One Great Hour of Sharing or World Wide Communion Sunday. But still- World Water day?

A little insight can be gained from the ABC news webpage via associated press author Erica Bulman. "This year's World Water Day marks the launching of the "Water for Life" decade, during which the United Nations and governments are seeking to halve the number of people without access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation by 2015."

It's true. After all, the Universal warning for Mexico to vacationers is "Don't drink the water". But anyone that's traveled abroad will tell you that it's not just our neighboring country. Small towns in Africa, South America, and Asia all require the attention of those who can give- or pass the word along, about supporting a movement for fresh, drinkable, usable tap water.

The full article above can be found here, and the webpage for World Water Day is currently down. (Something to do with traffic, I wonder?) I did snag a link for the cached page at Google. Try here. Maybe next year they'll do something nifty like the smartWater site.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a nice, refreshing cup of crisp, clear goodness.

March 21, 2005

A wedding for Von

I think that the space-time barrier was broken at Von and Drew's wedding on Saturday. Ben clocked it at exactly twelve minutes.

It was, however, a lovely ceremony. I don't think I've ever been in the Piper Palm House before, although I'd seen it from the nearby lake several times. The interior is that of a greenhouse, probably much like the Jewel Box after its "renovation." (Pah! Renovation my foot. Bring back the waterwheel, says I!) Between each potted tree is a bust of a composer such as Mozart and Beethoven. The air even smelled fresh.

They say that every woman looks beautiful on their wedding day. Von was no exception. There was a bit of sparkle in her eyes as she walked down the aisle, but there was serenity to her. All the nervousness, the pictures, the careful planning... it all came to her and Drew looking into each other's eyes, holding each other's hands, and exchanging rings.

And after the service- bubbles! I missed out on the first go-around with the basket, so while everyone else used their lungs to blow, Drac and I clapped along with the few others that hadn't recieved them. Suffice to say I attacked the basket later- I still have two vials and a champaign-bottle style one as spoils of war.

In the time between the wedding and the reception, we all wandered over to Von and Heather's flat for a bit of carousing and some chickenburgers. (Because, let's face it, McDonDon's can't be serving up chicken.) With a quick stop to Walgreens, Mike and Jess grabbed window-writers to gussy up the car- and while Jess and I went in, Mike and Lar did a little detailing to Drew's vehicle. Von kicked us out about fourty-five minutes before the reception, so we split ways- some to get back into dresses, others because they were ride-hopping.

The reception itself was at Orlando Gardens on Watson. I was looking forward to being the official cake cutter, but I have to admit- the caterers did it so much better than I ever could. And the cake was "ehhhkselent". The music- I could sing with most of the songs, and it was suprisingly hiphop free. Luckily, JR and Drac skipped before they played Barbie Girl. But the fact that I did get a slow dance this time made it a lot easier.

And watching Von and Drew dance- priceless.

Congratulations, you two.

March 08, 2005

To-Do List: Revised for Spring 2005

I figure I can break this up to things I want to do and things I need to do. And if anybody knows ways to point me in the right direction- please, please point me!

Things I need to do:

  • Get a job
    • Visit with my jobs counselor
    • Gather applications
    • Rewrite my god-awful resume

  • Get registered for summer at Meremac
    • (Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask... I'll be back at Webster for Fall term)

  • Clean my ground zero, I mean... my room

Things I want to do:
  • Get back into community theatre
    • I've got the itch
    • I'm probably going to hit every audition in the RFT over the course of the summer as soon as I'm employed, and could really use some company (Hint Hint)

  • Figure out what's going on for my 21st


  • Possibly get involved in a fire-dancing troupe
    • For those of you not on Myspace.com with me, you're missing out on my buddy Shaun's prof. He's an audio/visual-anthropology major at Webster, and trying to start a troupe. It looks- nifty.
    • Told him I was clumsy. Didn't seem to deter him much. Got a response along the lines of "that's not a real excuse".

  • Drag out The Artist of Athens
    • It's about time I got back to this thing. And now I know how to re-write. Um, give or take.
    • Anybody want to play editor for me?


Yup, I think that's the bulk of it. Wow. You know, this is going to take up more time than I thought.

March 05, 2005

To Catch a Squirrel

Now, I love my dad dearly. I really do. But I think he's gone a bit nutty recently.

A squirrel has taken up housing in the eaves of our roof, scrabbling about a bit. Now, I know that they can be rabble-rouseres, especially if they get to chewing on cable, eating the inner eaves of the house, performing satanic rituals, etc. But the recent lengths that Dad's gone to- it feels like our little Rocky's smarter than the average squirrel.

The first trap belonged to Grandpa. Now, I remember that trap from way back when. It was much like Grandpa's mole traps- something used to capture critters that were disturbing him, his garden, and his plants... only it didn't harm them. But he would tend to them very carefully. Bait it with nuts, and then leave it be. I'd see grandpa carry it past me wordlessly. Ah, the memories. But I digress.

Dad dragged it out when I suggested that he just get a squirrel-thrower instead. (Squirrel-throwers are so much more fun.) Now, apparently, the old rusty girl just ain't what she used to be... the first time, dad had it on the ledge of the back porch. Not smart. Darn squirrel rocked it from side to side, probably trying to trip the lever again and again in hopes that it would get loose. Instead, it merely managed to knock the cage to the ground... Then it somehow got out. This happened twice before Dad figured out that he'd been able to somehow push the door up because it didn't latch the entire way.

I could almost see the cloud forming over Dad's head. There's a slight sort of reverence in his voice, but not much. Like talking about that parrot who rides a bike at Grant's Farm.

The new trap caught him the first time around. I got the opportunity to see him bounding about again before Dad took him across the river that runs near our house.

Then Dad went after the other squirrel that had been eating out of the birdfeeder. Got him pretty quickly, too. Took him out as far as Six Flags. A fifteen minute drive is a lot faster than the running time of the squirrel. Maybe he was dropped off at Jellystone. I can't be sure.

We had a relatively quiet couple of days before our beloved Rocky came back to nest. Telltale scrabbling of what might have been a poker game above the kitchen table quickly alerted everyone to our favorite little houseguest. That said, Dad decided to re-introduce him to the trap.

Apparently he doesn't fall for the same con twice. Dad even set up a camera to find out how the squirrel was getting away. A camera! Granted, it only hooks up to a monitor (no video footage), but still! Even the squirrel went direcly up to it and sniffed the lens cautiously. So far, it has managed to steal nuts without tripping the trap, and then maneuver itself halfway out so that it can speedily trip the trap with the last nut, scampering away before the door slams shut on his tail.

Currently the cage is rearranged, and Rocky's a bit apprehensive. It's poked its head inside, circled it several times, sat on top of it, stuck its arm through the side, and hasn't decided yet if it wants to chance the new setup or not.

When Dad gets a black trenchcoat and starts muttering "Must capture moose and squirrel", then I probably ought to see about getting him a good psychiatrist.