M.I.L.D.

Milk is what I'd Like to Drink... my Calcium intake cannot be quenched as thoroughly as with milk. It's so awesome I can't find the words... So I'll (don't look down) tube say it:

The benefits of milk have never sounded so appealing, yes?

Youtube me like there's no tomorrow!

How I'm feeling today... want to know? I'll tell you... It's... well... oh wait, I can show it to you with a youtube vid!
Tubetalk is starting to get on my nerves. Whether it's a mood (yes, I mispelled it as "lood"... I felt very loody, there! lame mood... spell fail...), a feeling or a state of mind, youtube has a video for it.
There's links all over the place. Either you're lazy or not too articulate, the answer for you would start with www.youtube... *Muttley groan I decided NOT to youtube*

Happy Dead Space Day!

What other innovations can one bring to the world of gaming?
An array of guns that most armies would be proud to have, precision and accuracy that make headshots spectacular and competitive, blood and gore to rival the most high-budget horror film, graphics to mess up your so-called top of the line computer. Quite an attractive package, isn't it?
What could one do to better it? I mean, there's only so many times you can shoot someone... or is there?
I can tell you now that Dead Space did bring quite a lot of innovations. Among them are some ingenoius yet inevitable progressions. Yes, the plotline is all too well-known: you go into outer space to help out some stranded people on a spaceship (planet cracker that's destroyed 34 planets... yay human technology!). You get there after a not-so-smooth landing, your engine is damaged, lost upon further inspection. You realize something "terribly wrong" happened there and that you don't know if you can help. The place is deserted, some of your mates die within the first 5 minutes... yadda yadda yadda.
Buut here's where some new additions make it more appealing: your healthbar is conveniently located on the spine of your armour, your player always stays on screen and you have a 360 degree range of revolving around your character. Messages, be them text/video/audio logs do not cut in the game, you're still playing while they are up on the screen. The controls do take a bit of getting used to and you do feel rather dumb healing every time you want to open a door... facepalm moments sprinkled here and there.
One of the newest most sadistic thing is how to kill your necromorph alien mutant enemies. Shoot them, you'd say twitching an index at me. Oh yes, you do that... and get stabbed in the spine when it respawns limbs!!! Ah yes, the way to kill the... dead people corrupted by an alien unitarian marker who turn into alien necromorphs... things is to shoot/stomp/cut off all their limbs. That will stop them.... and kill a bit more of your humanity.
The blood actually bubbles when the darling creatures get dismembered! Oh, detail, what would virtual reality (the bad world gone psychotic side of it at least) be without you! I mean we're all tired of killing badly pixellated characters, we want everything to be more realistic, to have a feel that someone suffers for our extinct social lives.
ARMY NOW RECRUITING NERDS FOR SNIPER CAREER (no dudes, neeeever gonna happen, put the controller down and go in a wide populated space that IS NOT (anywhere near) a convention!.... aaand your fly is open...)

Filler-chan, we love you

In anime, every time the animators make up some random story because the manga artist has yet to produce anything, it's called a filler. They usually bring in useless ridiculously gifted characters, seemingly indestructible yet marvellously pointless who end up dying or disappearing in the swamp of plotlessness.
I recently thought about this: I have filler friends in my life. Everyone does, in the end. They're that person you don't really mind but who kinda hangs out with you whenever they can, clinging with their deformed scrawny social-freak claws to your awesomeness charma. They begin bothering you as soon as they start sounding more desperate and out of place than before... and there's always a "two minutes ago" before. You can't wait to shake them off, to polish off your coolness... there, good as new, cause it's perfect like that.
But you get an itch... now and then. Someone needs to scratch it... a charma itch, a need to be all glowy shiny again. And you turn to your filler friends because they make you feel a bit more important, they raise you up and down them low in your presence. It's like smoking a personality joint, I gather, it gets you high, trippin'... what if it's a bad trip though? Smoke in your eyes either way.
Fill 'er up.

Ay caramba, blad!

The British Coco Jambo... praising grinding and drinking all swirled up in a sex cocktail.

Show me the funny

Enough funny business and lolcats and other insignificant rubbish. There's too much of that running around anyway.
I must admit a part of me loves bad jokes and funny animals and unfortunate accidents silly people are always prone to in public. The only things I do not find at all funny are avoidable mishaps happening to old persons. Although it's like my friend says, it already happened and there's nothing you can do about it, so might as well laugh so as not to not offend them by making "a big deal" out of it, I can't help but feel pain when an old geezer falls on the floor, in a kiddy pool or face/false teeth down in their grandchild's birthday cake. A part of me wishes to laugh, another is telling me my teeth will have the last proverbial laugh when they fall out in a checker pattern just to spite me and grow eyes for the sole purpose of seeing me go through the same embarassment (probably at some dinner party celebrating my awesome smile or whatnot). But then an organ war shall begin, to see who shall have the last laugh (my vocal chords are strong favourites): my ovaries would foil that Granps scenario by refusing to spawn offspring, my kidneys would make me turn yellow to get back at me for my East-Asian fetish, my thyroid would mess itself up to own the whole gang by turning me into a ticking fat joke: 3 minutes, 41 seconds and 4 passers-by until next fat-joke...40...39...

...because what would Caturday be without a good laugh:
A Chinese family of 5, named Chu, Bu, Hu, Su and Fu decided to immigrate To the United States.In order to get a visa, they had to adapt their names To American standards: Chu became Chuck Bu became Buck Hu became Huck. Fu and Su decided to stay in China.

Doop-doop

It's "catchy song that easily gets stuck in my head" day!
Also, the video pays tribute to Ileanne and her struggle. And to all sufferers of cockroaches with rabbit-like ambitions.

Lulz

sure freaked me out, but on some deeper more disturbing level it sort of makes anonymously evil sense...



ce fac marmotele cind nu invelesc ciocolata in staniol...

Bad hair years

Have a hoot with this: 1980 you
Just remember to bring it back when you're done.

Beware if you did...

Mercs have it going on, the answer to how to cope with modern life: shoot everyone in the face but put it into a nice sing-a-longable song and everyone will fear you. Dog eat dog? I fear not, we have evolved farther from that, we spit each other out and enjoy the aftertaste.

And here's one of my favourite topics: aftertaste. I take longer than others to eat a dish or a square of chocolate because I mainly enjoy the aftertaste and how it changes. The same thing goes for people. If first impressions linger and they're good ones, come back for another bite. If not, spit it out! (oh no she didn't!)