I'm in.

Take THAT. Bastard Live journal suits, saying you have to have "Friends" or "Money" to get in. Screw them. So I went out, and I BOUGHT some friends! Hah!

I can feel my bones twisting and my back hunching as I type. It's so Jekyll/Hyde-ish.

Damn. I want to say bad things. I want to mock people. I want to mock demo team leaders. I want to deride social groups.

Start with the Irish. It ALWAYS starts with the Irish.

I used to hate the Irish. With a passion. Went to a catholic high school with a bunch of inbred cracker Micks. Feh. Try being a socially awkward (mayhap retarded) brown guy in a sea of aryan nation target audience faces. It's tough. REAL tough. So I hated the Irish.

Why not? I was angry at a few Irish people. They were a bunch of drunks! Grr!

Then, my hypocrisy lept up to my face. Hey, it screamed. You've got a lot of Irish friends. What's up with that? You think that makes you less worse (or any better) than the inbred crackers at Our Lady of Racial Intolerance?

Feh. I hate it when my hypocrisy is right. I still use the phrase "Beat you like an Irish Housewife" on occasion, but only to shock and disturb. It's expected by now.

Damn. I still hate teh Italians. Especially that bastard Wes Smiderle.

Wow. Power going to my head. I could be here all day, except I have to be at work in 20 minutes. Well, leave for work in 20 minutes. I so miss having access to a car. Or at least to my wife, who has a car.

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Why does it have to be "Friend of"? There's a guy I'd like to link to, but we never really got along. Can't it be "acquaintance of"? "Former associate of"? "Shares planet with"?

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LIfe just doesn't make sense sometimes.

I'm working on a project for someone. I've spent the past month (the first third of the time pre deadline) ruminating on the project. What I've been working on is a fantastic Arabian Nights setting.

I've created a central religion (taking elements from Islam, Zoroastrianism, and other fun stuff), worked on a history, created the starts of a society. I submitted a few hundred words of ideas to the managers.

Who, it turns out, have apparently assigned me something ENTIRELY different. Man. They do think I can do the first book, and then expand it into another few. Which is good. I just have a strange feeling like a train that's left the tracks.

Ah, well. In the morning, everything will be okay.