Katze mit Wut

I hear padded-and-cuddly people catch flak for their weight. Guess what, so do thin people.

"You're getting too thin."
"I know. I'm actually trying to gain weight."
"Well, like, eat? Duh!"
"I do. Two hot meals a day. Duh. Besides, it's not like I were pathologically underweight, or anything — in fact I'm at the upper limit for models."
"Fuck modelesque. You're too thin. It's not sexy. It's not attractive. You wanna end up looking like Georgina bloody Grenville?"
"Gee, thanks for your kind words, and fuck you too!"

If I had a pound for every time I had this fuckwitted conversation, the problem, if you can call it that, would be history.
Also, if you're thin, you can't whine about these things to your heavier friends, they'll surmise you're just flirting with the whole underweight thing, or "subtly" telling them "just how superior you feel." Or something like that. Something fiercely unsupportive. And so we retaliate. With gallows humour. Bah.

It's the Chinese Year of the Mouse. First my beloved logitech mouse died. All I could get on short notice at the time was an IntelliMouse Explorer 2.0 (see there for installation) though I'd have preferred another logi, the size and shape of which suit me better. Now I mucked up my lower arms and wrists — no, not typing those 200 line poses on MUSH: I was stupidly carrying home my groceries when I should have sent a man. Let's face it, at BMI 18 you don't have the muscle, and you shouldn't and needn't be without a strong guy to serve and to protect, anyway. : )

So much for being ecologically minded. Next time I'll take the beamer. Or something. Anyway, my arms hurt, a little when typing, and a lot when using the mouse. Untwisting them into the vertical (handshake position) immediately relieved the pain, so I went looking for a mouse that would work in that position.

Ach ja, wie die Zeit vergeht. Man kommt ja zu nichts. Ich schiebe das mal auf den neuen Job (als Bugs Bunny) usw. Ansonsten ändert sich erst mal nichts — die Welt ist immer noch schlecht (aus der Region, die Euch Genitalverstümmelung brachte: Brustbügeln) — aber mittelfristig steht wohl irgendein Umzug ins Haus.

Letztens wollte jemand Wetter in seinem MUSH implementieren, und ich habe ihm Markov erklärt. Das ist offenbar ein bekanntes Problem. Apropos MUSH, es ist ja schwierig, den Weg von stupid dice-tricks zu DRASTIC nicht als rollenspielerische Singularität zu verkaufen. Hyperreality, anyone? : )

Die toten Augen von wo auch immer: Zombie-Spanking!