The Desert Mermaid

The first thing I found out about Disneyland was possibly the weirdest, too: I have never been there, and yet I knew my way around. No, it’s not some eerie “I’ve been here before” feeling, neither. It’s because I’ve freaking played Epic Mickey. Turns out the areas in that game weren’t just kind of inspired by Disneyland—they actually matched the layout of Main Street, New Orleans Square, Tomorrowland, etc.. It was … kinda strange, frankly.

ME: I have this overwhelming urge to squirt paint everywhere.

MY BROTHER: Me too. At least we aren’t trying to use thinner.

ME: Unless we get ambushed by that rocking Phineas and Ferb truck again. I am totally willing to melt them.

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My Favorite Spot, Unsuprisingly, Was Tomorrowland

ME: Innoventions! Dream House! I AM SO THERE!

MY BROTHER: Engineering stuff!

MY SISTER: *sad puppy eyes* Rides?

ME: THE FUTURE!

*we explore the carousel Dream House, brought to you by innovative companies of THE FUTURE buy their stuff!*

ME: Dig! Bedrooms! Of THE FUTURE!

MY BROTHER: Kitchen! Of THE FUTURE! … But where are the cake-baking robot hands?

ME: Impractical computer screen dining room table! Of THE FUTURE!

EXASPERATED CAST MEMBER: You guys realize that all this technology is available now, right?

ME: And you realize this means we’re LIVING in The Future, right?


Cast Guy was not amused. Fortunately, later we found an enthusiastic Cast Girl who was all over Living In THE FUTURE, so that’s okay.

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I kept getting drawn toward this thing. Not to ride it, just because it’s pretty. Hundertwassery, even!

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Now, since LucasArts and Disney are BFFs, there’s a harsh truth one must accept about the park: at some point, ( your ass WILL get whacked with a lightsaber. )

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( Halloween At Dizney: Beware Of Orange Thing )

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( The Haunted Mansion Manic Holiday )

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My sister wore this previously-acquired hat all week, making her darn easy to spot. There’s a sticker on the front with Peter Pan on it, which she touched up with a ballpoint pen at some point. The painstakingly written “FUCK YEAH” on it became a problem when we discovered that everyone in the universe wanted her hat. Guess they don’t make them anymore. They’d ask to examine it, and she always swept it off with a flourish so that her hand covered the sticker.

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My linguist powers tell me this is a pretty straightforward cipher. Hell, if you cross your eyes, you can read it.

This was part of the Indiana Jones ride, which my sister's buddy insisted we go on. Turns out she had good reason. Dang what a fun ride.

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ME: Say, what have we here? Looks like somebody went to the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.

SMALL PRINCESS: I did! And my fairy godmother helped me with my hair!

ME: That explains the sparkles, all right. Say, Dude, why don’t you go to the Boutique?

MY BROTHER: Because I’m wearing a hat.

ME: Nonsense. I for one completely support your transformation into Princess Sparklebeard.

MY BROTHER: Well, I would look good in a tiara.

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( These Are Definitely For Holding Toothpicks )

STORE GUY: You have a point. … I see you also bought a Mickey shirt.

ME: I couldn’t find an Oswald one.

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And, alas, that was my one regret for the trip. An Oswald shirt is even more elusive than a happy Donald shirt. But if that’s the one tragedy of the trip, then I’d say it was darn successful!

Got my mushroom log up and running! It is so far a bit of an ugly sight, sittin’ on my desk next to my Klein bottle and my jewelry pile.* I am led to understand that they will look quite lovely when they grow, but for now it looks like I have a very weird shrine to nougat sitting near my window. We shall see how that unfolds.

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Speaking of mushrooms, I’ve been learning “Beware the Forest’s Mushrooms” on the ocarina. Only trouble with video game songs is trying to end them. Perhaps this is why my cat has taken to punching me in the stomach when I play them. But it’s worth it—this song is ridiculously fun to play.

Anyway, while trying to find some sheet music for it I discovered that my weird love of Geno is shared by many other people who are probably equally weird. He is one of my favorite characters in the Mario franchise, despite Square’s refusal to let him come out and play anymore. (It’s okay! I made up for that prominently in my own extremely bad Super Mario stories, which I wrote obsessively in sixth grade before I even knew that anyone else in the entire world wrote fanfiction!) Good to know I'm not alone.

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I love the way people who make TV shows are completely clueless about video games. They don’t even try. They’ll have some scene where two people are furiously button-mashing, and saying scripted things like “Aha you got me that time!” or “Let me get the next powerup!”, except that any gamer could tell you that these idiots have got the game on single player mode, and furthermore it’s the middle of a cutscene. It has the great effect of making any character with a controller look like the little kids at the arcade who are furiously toggling the joystick and cheering while the screen still says INSERT TOKEN TO PLAY.**

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I have been craving pizza lately, but there is no good pizza place around here, frozen pizzas are nasty, and ready-made some-assembly-required pizza sauces and crusts all have about four cups of sugar dumped into them to appeal to the discerning consumer palate. But by god, it got bad, so I finally caved in and made my own damn pizza yesterday evening. IT TURNS OUT I SHOULD DO THAT MORE OFTEN.

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It’s a mite cloudy these last few nights, but I did manage to identify Betelgeuse as Betelgeuse and not just “one of the stars in Orion.”*** I’d never bothered to pay attention to star colors before, but it really is orange. I’ll be damned.

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Had to do this the night after a raccoon-and-skunk skirmish in the yard so’s I didn’t pass out from skunk fallout. That must have been some battle, because it involved a raccoon disguising itself as our cat, possibly replete with papers forged by Donald Pleasence. Mom opened the door and called for the cat, and lo a big furry thing with a stripey tail responded instantly by bounding toward her. No hesitation, no wild animal wariness, just “You’re inviting me in? THANK GOODNESS. THERE ARE SKUNKS OUT HERE!” We literally had to slam the door on it when we realized it was an imposter. And yes, we kept the real cat in for the rest of the evening.


*I try to keep my jewelry in boxes, but it always outgrows ’em. It’s like pasta from Strega Nona’s magical pot, only with more shiny bits.

**Or like your little sister back when she was really tiny and wanted to play video games so you gave her your other controller, which was not even hooked to the console, and told her she could “help” you, not that I ever did this.

***I know the four stars are supposed to frame his tunic, but frankly Orion always looks more like a guy doing a jumping jack to me. But at least it’s one of the few constellations I can recognize by gestalt!

WHAT THE—do you mean to tell me that my reward for getting 100% in Donkey Kong Country Returns is that I now get to do all the levels again, only backwards in sudden death mode?!

Didn’t I see this exact scenario on Monsterpiece Theater?



Yeah. Color me Grover.

Hell with that. I’m switching to Epic Mickey.

Y’know, I never realized just how hard those DKC games were on the Super Nintendo. I was a stupid kid, so I merely accepted whatever they threw at me as How The Game Is, so I PLAYED THOSE GAMES until I beat them. Once again, I demonstrate determination and perseverance only in the completely useless realm of video games. If only I’d shown that kind of dedication in … well anything else, really, I would probably be running the world.

I don’t care how undignified it is, naming yourself “Dude” in Zelda games is never not funny.

“Dude, isn’t that … the Master Sword!”

“Dude, it’s too hot in here!”

“Can you hear me, Dude?”

“Dude! You must help my father save the Gorons!”

“Wait, Dude. Before we go on, there’s something you need to hear.”

“Well done, Dude. Thou hast verily demonstrated thy courage.”


Also, I hereby wish to confirm the rumors that in the past I have renamed Epona “Nemo” in Twilight Princess, purely for the sake of that stupid joke they do in which an amnesiac Ilia says “*gasp* [HORSE’S NAME]? … That’s a nice name.” It’s better than when I name her “Hoss,” anyway.

Hurk. Feeling rather dull and listless lately, perhaps on account of allergies, or possibly as the aftermath of August/September’s MANIC IDEAS spike, or that whole downer of a death in the family. Whatever the cause, I’ve gone from crazed energetic output to plodding through a few basic projects. My necklace stuff, quilt, dolls, cookbooks, and even my blog are sitting patiently and twiddling their thumbs while they wait for me to start up again. Although I will note that Super Mario has not had to wait; last night I collected the final Star Coin and am now officially a Super Player.*

This lethargy isn’t all bad, though—my brain has left to it one useful process, and that is Composing. I can finally write down all those great ideas that were bombarding me. Don’t get me wrong, the HAVING IDEAS phase of My Writing Process is exciting and electrifying, and also frustrating as all hell because I can only scribble down generalities and outlines until they all shut up for a while. It’s hard to really write a detailed bit of dialogue or description when your brain keeps shrieking “AND! The pygmies get a bus and they drive all the way to Hollywood! … FLORIDA!” ** or whatever at you.

And dang, y’all, now that I’ve got some of it written, I am thinking that maybe I am not the only one who would get a kick out of the stuff written in my Playtime Funiverse.*** I make no promises, but if I am satisfied enough with it I may start posting it here.

The OGYAFE stays under wraps for now, though. You will have to buy that one when it becomes an actual book. I assure you, though, it will be worth the wait!


*I also declare World 9-7 the Fucking Impossible World for this game. It actually wasn’t so hard to beat, but getting the second and third coins took some serious thumb-fu.

**2:00 in.

***So named because it’s written for me, and not for me-plus-others, you see. It’s a big bloated silly collection of universes. I used to refer to it as the universe where my fanfiction goes to die, but at this point any source materials are no longer really relevant to what’s evolved, except in the general “This person reads way too much fantasy” way. Pretty much the only serial number I’d have to file off is the hobbits, and I make no apologies for loving the hell out of hobbits.

Hey, guys! Check it out! I totally had a birthday—and I got treasure to prove it! And now, here on my journal, I am going to share it with you!

First, check out this—the most fortuitous birthday card ever. My co-worker was absolutely thrilled to find it.



( Swag!  )

Bonus photos! Check out how my peppers are doing!



These are no ordinary peppers, my friends! These are GOTH PEPPERS. These are the kinds of bell peppers that sit around writing poetry about bleeding black rose petals from alabaster skin into a lake of tears or driving nails into Kewpie dolls to add atmosphere to their velvet-draped bedrooms. “Purple Beauties,” they’re called, but they’re working their damndest with what nature can give them to be the deep black of despairing, endless night.



I am dying to find out what they taste like.

ME: I remember these Super Mario 64 levels being a lot bigger.

MY BROTHER: Harder, too. Remember the hours of frustrated attempts to get a single star? And oh god the 100-coin challenges.

ME: You know what’s really sad? This means that while we could never be assed to practice things like martial arts or our respective musical instruments or such skills, we actually practiced video games like FIENDS.

MY BROTHER: You’re right!

ME: Figures the one thing we’d become virtuosos at is the most useless talent ever.

MY BROTHER: If only viola had been half as motivating.


Also, forgot to link to this before, in case you haven’t seen it: You are hereby invited to write fanfic about John Scalzi as an orc and Wil Wheaton in his infamously ugly sweater riding a unicorn pegasus kitten in front of a volcano. If you’re like me, though, you can’t possibly do it* because every time you click the link you see the illustration and then you fall down laughing.


*Even though I suddenly want to write self-insert, because really who doesn’t want to hang out with John Scalzi and Wil Wheaton?

Okay, so I’m hoping I’m over the miniature personal crisis I was having yesterday. Some days are like that. I just was sorry it had to be my brother’s birthday. I mean, sure, he’s turning 23, so he’s philosophical about uninspiring birthdays more than, say, an 8-year-old would be, but it’s still a bit guilt-inducing when you spend the whole day trawling for reassurance that you’re not a waste of good carbon, worrying you have some kind of medical condition, etc.

And in equally fun and exciting news, I’m sure you’re all dying to hear about Monday’s car accident! It was one of those stupid, anticlimactic ones that could have been a hell of a lot worse. I was cruising off a freeway exit when the car in front of me slammed on the brakes; I hit mine and had that fun moment of “HOSHIT GONNA HIT HIM.” But I managed to stop, and was feeling pretty smart about how much space I give the car in front of me and BONK the car behind me thunked into me and knocked my bumper askew.

I was mostly just relieved that the new tail light array we got last month wasn’t damaged.

Anyway, the weirdest thing about fender benders is the part where you go on with your day. I'm always under the impression that car accidents are enough to cancel the rest of the day, but even so I went on to work and apologized for being a little late. Everyone was really sympathetic, including my manager when she finally noticed.* But it was still rather surreal.

But! Today is sunny and chill, Mom loved episode 2 of Doctors!, I discovered that I had saved a game of Wind Waker just after beating the first runthrough,** I have calmed down enough to pay real attention to fadethecat's story (sorry for the delay, Fade!), and I just got a message that my order of chainmail stuff has been sent. Today is a better day all around!


*My manager, for the record, is definitely on the Asperger spectrum. Folks think I'M weird ...

**For those who haven’t played it, this means that you get to do a second runthrough on the same file with some Easter eggs, the most obvious of which is that Link elects to go through the entire game in his lobster-themed pajamas.

- OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS. Super Mario Bros. Wii is … is … it’s like three parts nostalgia and two parts COMPLETE CRACK. It takes all the great elements from the old Mario side-scrollers (Mushroom houses, the Koopa Kids, bonus games, pre-Yoshi’s Story Yoshi,* the sound effects, warping, item collecting) and some new elements (the streamlined Wii graphics, Ice Mario, cooperative multiplayer mode**) and mixes them up in a blender as a delicious mushroomy smoothie of Super Mario goodness.

It’s almost strange. Damn game zaps me back over the last … criminy, eighteen years or so? … of playing the everloving buhjeezus out of Super Mario World, working to get EVERY SINGLE SOLITARY SECRET THAT GAME WAS HUGE, swearing and screaming at the evil designs of the creators, and feeling like the world champion whe I got it. A game that makes me think of that one? Reminds me why I love gaming. And why my brother has seriously considered getting a tattoo of my pithy summation of that game: “FUCK TUBULAR.”

This is what I was looking for with the New Super Mario Bros. FINALLY.

- I dumped a book truck today! It was spectacular. I gave it a tug to get it moving in the right direction, but the wheel stuck, so instead of turning, the thing toppled over, spilling nonfiction all over my feet.*** And I’d just gotten the damn thing sorted, too.

A regular patron who seems to want to be my friend helped me a bit and then noted that he’d have fainted of embarrassment if it were him (he seems easily embarrassed, though). I told him that if anything, the cart should feel pretty stupid. It’s the one that tripped, after all.

- Having lost track of our tastes long ago, my aunt has resorted to the ill-reputed but eminently practical solution of just giving us money for Christmas. So today I went shopping online for presents from her. Hooray for Epiphany presents!

- I am staring in some trepidation at a wordlist for the Torn Tongue. Remember how I realized that I tend to sort of fade out of group projects? I’m unconsciously doing that with the Torn World work. I’m sort of self-conscious about a group project, which is paralyzing. I need to get it done. At least I have Langmaker to help me out.

- You know, I could write a whole thesis, point-by-point, with cross-references and proper citations, demonstrating all the reasons why tomorrow is going to suck. But that would make me too bummed out, so you can just take my word for it.


*I blame that game as the final catalyst for the Elmo-ization of Yoshi.

**Okay, some old arcade games had a form of this, but it’s a little bit like comparing a sharpened stick to an iPhone.

***There is a reason I never wear delicate open-toe shoes on this job. Even my sandals have big rubber toes.

If you want to have the most entertaining party ever, I highly recommend you get at least six slightly tipsy, non-digitally savvy baby boomers together with a copy of The Beatles Rock Band. It will make you laugh until you collapse.

My sister and I tried that kind of party last night with Dad, Mom, and Dad’s two sisters and their husbands who are visiting. It was CHAOS, my friends.

Now, Rock Band and Guitar Hero start out a little confounding for anyone until you really play it and get a feel for it. But THIS. This was beyond a little confusing. Explaining that it’s 1. based on the principles of playing a guitar (hold down chord and click strum), and 2. nothing like actually PLAYING an actual GUITAR is difficult. How the colors on the screen correspond to what you’re supposed to play is a mystery which cannot be fathomed by mortal man. And the line that indicates you hit the drums’ bass pedal was all but invisible to at least a third of the over-fifty crowd there. (No, seriously, after three hours one of my aunts still couldn’t see it.)

My other aunt picked up the guitar pretty quick, and Mom actually did pretty darn well on guitar, too.

And I am apparently a drumming savant.

Well, okay, I’m not quite Hannelore-esque, but while everyone else feels the drums are terrifyingly hard, I find them a lot easier than the guitars. Maybe it comes from being the rhythm section kid in jazz band.* So I got to be Ringo for most of the evening.** My hands are still rattled.

My uncle was pleased with this game because it’ll Introduce A New Generation to the Beatles. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’ve had most of their songs memorized since I was about four. We were having too good a time singing along, anyway.


*You’d think this’d make me a great bassist, since that’s what I played, but as bean_bunny will loudly attest to, Rock Band instruments ≠ actual instruments.

**And fuck all y’all Ringo haters. Dude is amazing. I don’t know how he does it, but he keeps rhythms so steady you’d think he was channeling them from some absolute source. (And, given the substances he used, that’s probably what it felt like.)