The Ha-ha's

I must be in a weird mood tonight. Started w/me reading something about vintage lesbian art... so I started looking up 'vintage lesbian art' to add to my screensaver art collection & somehow ended up looking up pictures of Johnny Depp. That led to me looking up pictures of Edward Scissorhands. Which led, almost naturally, to Robert Smith & the Cure. Which led to Siouxsie & the Banshees because for some reason, when I typed in 'Robert+Smith+The+Cure, I was only getting pics of the old, puffy, blotchy Robert Smith & those kind of reminded me of how Siouxsie used to look. Her eye make-up led me to screen shots & movies posters of A Clockwork Orange. And from there, for some unknown reason, I started looking for Trent Reznor.

Now, I realize that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of rocker chicks and former rocker chicks who probably feel some 'connection' to Trent Reznor, that "oh, he's so deep, he sings exactly how I feel, it's like he knows me", and I am embarrassed for falling prey to that goofy fan-girl mentality, especially because I am 33 years old, old - fat and virtual slave to my job and computer... I didn't know what Reznor looked like til I saw his picture in a N'Awlins newspapers, years after I had that dream about him telling me Coyote stole his bride. I have never even been to a NiN concert (shock, gasp, dismay!), mainly because I am kind of afraid about my own over-emotional response. I fear I would be one of those screaming fainters you see in old newsreels about Elvis or the Beatles. (Speaking of the Beatles, there is a fusion band called Beatallica who are supposed to be a combination of the Beatles & Metallica, and they are releasing an album soon w/songs titled things like: Leper Madonna, Blackened in the USSR and more... I'm intrigued and repulsed at the same time by the whole concept.) I'd be the only person crying at a NiN concert, and it wouldn't be because someone in the mosh pit kicked me in the head, either.

Anyway, so I started looking to see if there were any stills from the Closer video, and I ran across this interview from 1994. He rented the Tate house in the Los Angeles hills - the scene of the Manson Family murders. I read this, and that goofy fan-girl connection got even stronger:

The first night was _terrifying_. By then, I knew all about the place--I'd read all the books about the Manson murders. So I walked in the place at night and everything was dark, and I was like, "Holy Jesus, that's where it happened." Scary, I jumped a mile at every sound--even if it was an owl. I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a coyote looking in the window at me. I thought, "I'm not gonna make it."

And speaking of Coyote and coyotes, I got my books, Coyote Medicine, Coyote Healing and Coyote Wisdom. Today in the bathroom, I read a story about how coyotes came to be. Apparently at one time, there was only one Coyote, not many. I've paraphrased it some.

Coyote talked Buzzard into taking him through the hole in the sky where the Skypeople lived. Buzzard made Coyote promise to meet him for the return trip before sundown made it too cold for Buzzard to fly. Of course, Coyote got to telling stories & gambling with the Skypeople, and he forgot about Buzzard until far after dark. Well, Coyote had gotten bored and frustrated with the Skypeople because they knew all his tricks, so he decided to go ahead back to the hole and see if by chance Buzzard had waited for him. Of course, Buzzard hadn't wanted to get stuck over night either, so Coyote was left all alone by the hole in the sky. He took a leap of faith then, wanting to get back to the old world where folks would fall for some of his tricks every once in awhile, and he fell for many, many days.

The people below were worried about how Coyote was faring with the Skypeople, and when he finally hit the ground in a broken, dead heap they figured the Skypeople had thrown him down the hole. Even though he had invented death, he didn't deserve to die forever, so all the other people gathered to pray to the Great Spirit that Coyote would be allowed to live in some form somewhere else. Well, late that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, the Great Spirit scattered Coyote's bones. Shortly after moonrise, all the creatures were woken by a horrible racket - where the bones had fallen, new little coyotes had sprang up and were singing their thanks to the Great Spirit.

Cool beans :)

Just had a nice long chat w/the Hula Rat on IM. It was a wonderful surprise.

And... in amidst my classwork, I took my goofily-named Blood Elf Paladin, Evilwyn, from scratch to lvl 40 in about 6 days of play-time. Got her warhorse this morning and since she gained the riding skill I went ahead & blew the 9 gold on a bird mount. I got the black one - I think I might have to blow another 9g & get the purple one instead. The black one doesn't look very flashy. Evilwyn's got black hair & is sporting the Chief Brigadier's set which is black & red, so I thought the black bird would look stunning, but it just looks, well, meh. I gave Kitsune, my lvl 40 'lock, a red undead horse along w/her felsteed because it looks absolutely gross - a skeletal horse with flayed, raw flesh in patches. Kitsune's got the worst-looking robe on right now - it looks like a burlap sack mated with a straight jacket. So I have an escaped undead mental patient on a raw skeletal horse. Now I have one lvl 61 and three, count 'em, three, toons at 40. I'm really good at bringing my guys up to 40, but after that they end up stuck in Booty Bay for eternity. They're all craft-mules anyway. I took Zane's skinning away from him & gave him herbalism because Rob really wants an herbalist to pal around w/Death out in the Outlands. Zane, my bad ass lvl 61 Tauren hunter (with an elite wolf mount, no less) is now wandering Eversong Woods like a freakin' hippy, picking flowers. I may as well take away his axe & give him the wildflower bouquet or something. At least, he's out there when he's not running Death around Stranglethorn killing lvl 35 trolls. "Kill all trolls, all trolls in STV must be killed. If you see a troll, kill it & loot it. We want their mojo, their wildvine, their tusks, their necklaces, and some vials of troll ball-sweat while you're at it". Or lvl 40 pirates... "Some pirate stole my eye & I want it back. Hell, kill all the pirates while you're out there & take their tobacky, too. And if they're hanging out with trolls, kill them & get some snot in a bottle for me".

Could be worse - I could be running back & forth between two guys who are about three feet apart. Gnome: "We're not talking right now. You go tell that goblin to my left that I have his widget for him"...
Goblin: "Tell that gnome his widget is missing some pieces."
Gnome: "That goblin wouldn't know a decent widget if it was lodged in his eyesocket. Go get him some more widgets from those trolls you already killed three times on separate quests for their lungs, toenails and loincloths."

We also watched Night at the Museum last night. I freakin' loved it, even if most of the good stuff was all shown in the commercials. Ben Stiller was quite real & Owen Wilson was actually acting & not just being Owen Wilson. The tyrannosaurus skeleton stole the show & the mummy's bodyguards were perfect. Rob bought Full Metal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa because it was on sale at Wal-Mart (why he was at Wal-Mart betraying his Union wife I have no idea... especially why he was in there alone... he couldn't even wait til I can walk again, geez) but we haven't watched it yet. Maybe tonight. I'm up way past my bedtime, considering Rob's got a 1:30 dr appt & I've got physical torture at 3:30. I don't want to go, honestly. I'm tired of those people poking me.