I don't know what anyone really wants.
Familiar faces peer across a bean.
Vegetables and legumes cruise the old haunts.
Somehow a brunette stripper made the scene.
Don't forget tomato sauce in tin cans.
Sudden sickness might spur you off whiskeys.
Hazardous are potent good beverage lands.
It seems Jagger suggests we are monkeys.
Varied are the things which the undead eats.
Vampire horses I'm not thinking of.
Bleeding are all shamans Frankenstein meets.
Grocery store women are all quick to love.
Computers have no real power switches.
Human stomachs are sick sons of bitches.
I was having a really nice time until I had to throw up at around 11am. I still don't know for sure what it was--was it the scotch I'd had last night, which I really enjoyed, or the cous cous in which I'd put freshly chopped garlic, which I also really enjoyed? Stupid, fucking stomach. Why do you have to ruin things?
And I was in such a wonderful good mood last night. I didn't even get upset when the computer crashed while I was in the middle of playing World of Warcraft. It crashed again this afternoon while I wasn't doing anything with it but playing an mp3--the whole thing just shuts off. I suppose I ought to get myself around to actually installing the new power supply I paid sixty dollars for several months ago.
But, yes, otherwise a really good evening. I played Oblivion at Tim's and had a good time kiting vampires out of their caves into broad daylight and letting them kill legionnaires. Then, in Word of Warcraft, I discovered what a great place Feralas is to level up my undead warrior, who's gotten really good at bleeding enemies--a "damage over time" effect. And I never stopped feeling satisfaction at devouring a humanoid opponent after slaughtering them. Alice Cooper's "Feed My Frankenstein" came on at a very appropriate moment last night.
I realised last night I'd forgotten to watch Friday's Dollhouse, so I watched it with breakfast to-day. Another episode I really liked, creating an interesting dilemma for the audience to decide between an emotionally distant father and a doting mother created by the Dollhouse. I suppose it's not surprising the show's tanking in the ratings--audiences don't tend to flock en masse to media that presents two opposing philosophies while making neither a clear villain.
Madeleine returned, wearing two outfits--a grey suit-ish dress and a grey blue skirt with blazer--that further emphasised her connexion to Madeleine from Vertigo. I liked her reaction to seeing Mother Echo getting wiped--the show presents, in the end, two points of view; 1) The ability to obliterate sorrow over the lose of a child is good and 2) Obliterating sorrow from losing a child is bad. That the former perspective isn't short changed even though one senses the writers are more in the latter camp is one of the things I absolutely love about this show.