(no subject)

I'm tired. Which makes sense, it being 10:30. I've been sitting down to write tonight, and in between procrastination and plain scatterbrainedness, I've done maybe 500 words. Feh.

I want a drink and to relax. This thing is taking bites out of my life. I'm gonna die at 30.

Christ. I went to friggin' Journalism school. Deadlines? I MOCK deadlines! So why is it I'm suddenly constipated? I keep wanting to write something ELSE (Bitter Guides, this, reviews), and I feel guilty about it.

Christ! People do this for a living? I'm going insane!

(no subject)

God, I love Karaoke. Cindy and I both do. One of our first dates was going out to Karaoke at a bar on New Years.

We haven't gone in ages; I think the last time we did it was PRIMEDIA.

I have a selection of songs I adore doing. One is Strokin' by Clarence Carter. It's one of those songs you really had to be around for; Unless you were a teenager in 1991, you'll have likely missed it.

Another is Turning Japanese. I swear to God, I had NO idea what it meant when I first heard it. I just thought it was a cool song.

I've done Kung Fu Fighting, a few Queen songs (you never realize how high Freddy Mercury's voice is until you're trying to catch up).

I did Chocolate Salty Balls once. What a great song.

I love doing Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi. Not that it's a particularly good song, but there's this one part during the refrain where the guy goes "Wanted!" and there's an answering scream of "waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantteeeeeed!" that just gets blood flowing to my fingers, which is darn important.

Oh, yeah: Margaritaville. Particularly because of the huge break where I can bitch about how cold it is, and why we should be living somewhere warm.

(no subject)

Okay, here it is. This is my big contribution to Geek knowledge. Humanity, as we know it, must know this:

Dr. Doom? Not Actually a Doctor!!! (note the three exclamation points? That indicates it's a VERY important piece of information)

No, it's true. Look at it this way. He gets invited to graduate studies because of his natural genius (home schooling? How terrifying!). He meets Reed, who won't let him bunk with him, because he's too busy spending time with fellow vet Ben Grimm. Which is strange, because I'll bet Vic was fighting Nazis all the time too.

Anyway, Doom has issues with the Curriculum (hey! Where's "inter-dimensional probing and extracting?"). So he decides to go do his own little experiment (Mom?).

Ignoring Reed's suggestions, he blows hisself up. Gets a scratch. Goes nuts ("I'm Ugly! UGLY!!!" Once again, note three exclamation points). Is ejected for killing his lab assistant.

Goes to the Himalayas, where he beats up The Ancient One, and then goes to hang out with some monks who live in a cave and are masters of power armour construction (is there nothing Tibetan monks can't do?).

And never goes back to school. So he's not a Doctor. He's Victor Von Doom, BSc.

See? A great revelation.