The Desert Mermaid

Just to let y'all know, I'm still getting through the next Scatterstone update. Things have gotten in the way--legitimate things, like workin' at The Office, revamping Doctors!, and learning to roller skate, and totally NOT legitimate things, like deciding to play straight through both LoZ Oracle games when I found them on the Virtual Console.*

I also am getting bogged down in the This Story I'm Writing Is Goddamn AWFUL phase of writing, which is only partially legit but you just have to work through it. And then go back and try to cut all the infodumps. I am way too into infodumps.

Anyway, the point is that I haven't abandoned it. And also that 2D Zoras remain super adorable. That, too.


*The secret-sharing nonsense is SO MUCH EASIER when you can just switch the software between the two games without losing your place. I no longer have to lament my lost raspberry-pink Gameboy Color! (I still do. IT WAS RASPBERRY-PINK.)

So my friend is an English teacher, and this year she decided to teach The Hobbit to her seventh graders. She asked me if I have any ideas about what to teach them. I think she was expecting a few thoughts. I NOW HAVE TWO SEMESTERS' WORTH OF LESSON PLANS.

Now to get a teaching certificate and go find some seventh graders.

At the moment we're discussing how Joseph Campbell's monomyth relates to The Hobbit.* I'm arguing the case that stopping at Rivendell counts as a Meeting With The Goddess. My case is that the Goddess is more a convenient archetype meant to suggest a well-known meeting of a sage guiding figure, and also that Elves are incredibly fabulous. I am glad she's more interested in my academic argument than my spurious bullshit, though, because otherwise I would have to pull out The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert as Exhibit A arguing Elrond's goddesslike qualities, and my friend is Mormon, so it would go unviewed.

Maybe we'll just skip right on to the Atonement. There are fewer drag queens involved.

(I'm always surprised at how overtly gendered Campbell's theory is. I think he's pretty cool, but to start with "The meeting with the Father Figure" and then immediately have to explain that the father figure doesn't necessarily have to be your dad or even a MAN tells me you need to find better terminology. Also, it tells me that George Lucas has always been one damned literal bastard.)


*Answer: pretty much exactly.

New Super Mario Bros. 2 feels like an extension of the other New Super Mario Bros games. I suspect the game designers just had too many ideas to fit into one game, so they've divided it into discrete concepts--Penguin and Propeller Hat for the Wii one, absurd amount of coin-related shit for the DS one.

Not that I'm complaining. I could play New Super Mario Bros. forever. Especially when I get to be Solid Gold Mario. Hot damn, that's a good time.

It also lends credence to my longstanding theory that Bowser does not differentiate Princess-Kidnapping from games like tennis and racing, and nobody's been able to explain to him that it's all good fun till somebody loses a limb.* Why else would he do this every week, except that he has a fine old time designing obstacle courses and watching Mario & Co. battle their way through them? He probably sits with the Princess and some cheese dip, and they holler at the screen like two rabid sportsfans watching the Super Bowl. It would certainly explain a lot.


*Come to think of it, he'd probably still think THAT was pretty good fun.

Not all my birthday gifts were pants and underwear, though! I got pajamas, too My brother flew in to bestow this upon me:



That right there is a freaking map of the Mushroom Kingdom, my friends. A "Super Mario World," if you will. And it's done in loving detail:



The frame is surrounded by artistic renditions of sprites from various games. I always liked Dino Torch.

How awesome is that? (Answer: So awesome it's getting framed and going on my wall, right across from a breathtakingly painted pair of jeans my friend gave me in high school about six pant sizes ago.)



My sister got the map of Hyrule for her birthday. And let me just say, I think it's pretty cool that Nintendo Power has a section for fanmade works of art now.*



This would make a hell of a tattoo.

So yeah, it wasn't all Boring Useful Things for the birthday. Even the pajamas from my sister had Buford Van Stomm's shirt design! Not totally grown up yet.

Seriously, though, this new underwear is GREAT. What a terrific thing to get.


*Also, rather hilarious how many crafting nerds realized that pixellation lends itself well to things like beading and cross-stitch.

Hanging out heckling my sister while she plays Skyward Sword. It's nice to have somebody who finds Ghirahim as annoying as I do.

Speaking of modern fairy tales, this dad is as modern as it gets. Right down to stopping in the middle of the story to check his memory with Wikipedia.



While I could probably get the sequence of events a lot more in order because I live in a basement without friends and still play this darn game pretty consistently, I am pretty sure I told stories in exactly this manner all the damn time when I was a kid.

I don't anymore, because I've learned I am a super-boring storyteller. That's why I write things instead. I am much more interesting on paper.

I applaud this family's taste in mirrors, though. And also their adorableness in babies. Damn, that kid is cute.

A day late, but gimme a break—yesterday was as bonkers as Monday. Anyway, here’s …

What I Learned Since The Winter Solstice

• Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds had lupus.
• In other WTF music deaths, Melvin Franklin, the awesome bass singer from my favorite band, died of necrotizing fasciitis—the FLESH-EATING VIRUS.
• The platypus’s bill is electrosensitive.
• Quinoa comes in all the colors!
• Friendship bracelets work on the same knot-tying principles as macramé, except for some reason they’re a lot more fun.
• Gliese 436b is an ice planet with a surface temperature of 800˚F. Yes, that means it’s a planet of hot ice.
• Gallbladder surgery can be avoided with magic purple stuff!
• If you watch enough of them, it’s possible to date old western movies to within three years of their release.
• Scientists have spliced spider genes into goats, making spidergoats whose milk can be processed into spider silk. And the spiders aren’t even radioactive.
• Even turning into a skid won’t always save your car from blunt force trauma.
• Wearing a seatbelt can save you from a lot of injury, but it may give you a purple boob if your car has a front-end impact.
• There are three timelines in the Zelda universe, splitting with Ocarina of Time. In one, Ganon got the Triforce and was defeated by grown-ass Link. In another, little Link tipped everyone off to Ganon’s shenanigans (shenaniganons?) and Ganon didn’t get to become the King of Evil. In the third, Link failed and the sages had to seal Ganon into the Sacred Realm.
• The receptionist from Monsters, Inc. has a MEAN older brother.
• The brain-eating amoebas are IN YOUR TAPWATER RIGHT NOW. RUN.
• Contadina sauce is the best for pizza.
• Writing a synopsis for your own book is never easy.
• Bomber jackets can be amazingly warm.
• People seriously believe that monitoring the state of my reproductive system is a serious job requiring lots of government resources.
• THERE IS A SPACE OPERA VERSION OF THE HOBBIT.

Nyyyeeeargh. Finished my first playthrough of Skyward Sword. I still can’t stand Archduke Fancypants, even with his last surprise,* but at least he’s not the FINAL final boss. The actual final boss made me feel much better about villains in general.

Now I have to go back over my notes and see how they’d look as a little commentary. No commentary could top the Christopher Walken-esque swearing of Super Mario Bros. Frustration Guy, but it’ll be fun to play it out anyway.

And when I wasn't playing that this week, I was reading Mastiff--and the combination set me to yearning again. Seriously, game designers, Tortall video game. I WOULD BUY A CONSOLE JUST TO PLAY IT.


*Though I suspect my complete failure to be even slightly amused by his antics must be how Batman feels about the Joker. You just know Bats thinks those of us who find that clown an engaging villain are idiots.

Ahh, post-holiday crash time. It was great to have my brother here, but when it’s for a visit, and when it’s the holidays, it’s also exhausting. (He seemed pretty tired by the end of the week, too.) On the other hand, going back to routine means going back to getting yelled at by angry patients or showing clueless patrons how to use the Scary New DVD Dispensinators.* Maybe I’ll stick with the exhausting holidays.

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MY SISTER: Whoa! Where’d Christmas go?!

ME: I don’t know. I woke up this morning and it had vanished. It’s like we got the Grinch a week late.

MY SISTER: Dude, if the Grinch had waited a week to steal Christmas, can you imagine how much those Whos would’ve paid him to do that very thing?

ME: Sure, the business is seasonal, but it’s quite lucrative!

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At least I can get the sewing machine up and running again now the tree is down. Rocket needs clothes—and fortunately, I have a whole wardrobe planned out for her. I may have to start with her nightshirt, since it’s pajama time at the Treehouse. But I’m looking forward to making her a flight suit. Not to mention shiny clothes. Lightning bolts all the way, baby!

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Speaking of dolls, I hereby decree that American Girl needs to quit bundling accessories in with big old furniture items. 2012’s unappealing Girl of the Year has a whole batch of little thingy-things that can only be gotten if you drop a chunk of money on her big loft bed. This time around I’m not really devastated—none of those items really catch my interest—but it’s an obnoxious trend. And it was rather frustrating a couple years ago when you could only get Lanie’s nifty cooking gear and food items if you bought her FORTY-POUND TRAILER CAMPER. Yeah, I may have a strange love for doll-sized accessories, but give me a break here.

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Just found out why that sad bloodhound next door hasn’t been howling lately: she fell over dead a couple weeks ago. I’m gonna miss that dog.

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Aside from the epic movie-watching experience of both Real Star Wars and Dumb Star Wars,** my brother finally got me to watch Memento, the inside-out and backwards movie. Stylistically it was a fun movie, enough to get past the idea that Everybody Is An Asshole just because figuring out the precise nature of everyone’s assholery still made it entertaining.

But the part I had really wanted to see was how they portrayed the concept of an acute case of anterograde amnesia. Leonard keeps insisting that he doesn’t have amnesia, but what he means is he doesn’t have Hollywood amnesia. Science-types note that Memento is one of just two movies that accurately portray a real form of amnesia. (The other? Finding Nemo.)

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I haven’t forgotten that y’all want the recipe for the awesome pizza I made the other night. And as soon as I figure out how the hell I made it, I’ll let you know.

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Fortunately, I have saved Skyward Sword for the post-holiday crash. Off to start that now.


*My sister has convinced me to watch Phineas and Ferb. That show should NOT be as damn entertaining as it is. I feel like some kind of Brony now.

**Mom on Emperor Palpatine in Return of the Jedi: "He reminds me of a lot of the nuns I had in Catholic school."

Those of you who’ve been around for a while probably know a bit about my wild subconscious: I have super-intense and detailed dreams, highly augmented by the Fukitol pills I take. Normally they’re sweeping crazy epic journeys, or prolonged anxiety dreams,* but they do like to step outside the box once in a while.

For instance, I recently dreamed that I was making pumpkin soup with ginger, allspice, and coconut milk. And I woke up and was all, “That doesn’t sound half bad.”**

So today I figured what the hell and tried to make a soup. I embellished a little—added nutmeg, garlic, onion, salt, a tiiiiny bit of sugar, and chicken stock to the mix, since the Great Pumpkin Prophecy lacked some spice.

And y’know what, it actually turned out goddamn delicious. Never let it be said my subconscious doesn’t know its way around a kitchen. Even a nonEuclidean one.

(It tasted particularly good with goat cheese crumbled in it, and yes, I got that idea from the Soup Dungeon in Twilight Princess. Which also raised another question: if I knew anything about the internet, then I could bet my pants that there was already a recipe out there for Yeto’s Superb Soup. So I set out into the wide Googlelands. Guess what? I get to keep my pants.)


*Not so many Ancient Egyptian Algebra tests at the moment; my anxiety at this point seems better represented by the kind of dream where the plane leaves five minutes ago and holy fuck you still have three houses’ worth of stuff to pack and every time you think you’ve got it all done you discover another pile of stuff still waiting.

**When I was a kid I was always completely amazed when a grownup would describe the ingredients in a particular meal and another grownup would say “That sounds delicious!” It was impossible for me to conceptualize how flavors went together until I’d actually tasted the finished foodthing—and then I only understood it as a gestalt particular to that foodthing. Took me years to get a sense of flavor enough to be able to say “Dang, you’re right, that DOES sound good!”