There are children pleasant!

So, my desktop computer is dying a slow, painful death. I've been fairly convinced that it's on its last legs for roughly 2 years. But now, I'm really sure that it's going to die. I will, once again, start backing up my files.

Reasons I believe my computer is going to die:

1. It's running really slow and no amount of maintenance is speeding things up.


2. It decided that it no longer had Excel installed on it. All I had to do was pop in the MS Office disc for 37 seconds (not install it, just put the disc in) in order for it to realize that it does in fact have Excel.


3. It can take as long as 13 minutes to restart my computer and be able to do things again.


4. It stalls on the stupidest tasks... like opening a folder. It's not even a hidden folder, or tricky in some way. It's a folder on my desktop. It's been there forever.

Reasons it will be really sad if my computer dies tomorrow:

1. I have to ship my laptop back to Toshiba for a new hard-drive and won't get it back for two weeks. I would be without internet for two weeks. *gasp*


2. My laptop is incapable of recording music and I like to, so it doesn't really work for me.


3. A new desktop would also be incapable of recording music (thanks Windows 7), so this dinosaur is my only hope of recording in real time.


4. I haven't backed up my files and probably won't tonight.


5. All my favorites, shortcuts, and in progress projects will be lost (see point 4).

As you can see, the death of my computer would be very sad indeed although not unexpected.

Elise is a jerk

*Disclaimer: This post is girly and is about make up and other girly things. I'm sorry.

I was (I am?) bit of a dummy when it comes to make up and other things really girly. No wonder I'm single. Wait a minute... real men don't like make up!

(Not a real man)

I simply didn't understand the fundamental aspects of make up: colour and technique namely. Basically, I was notoriously bad at picking it out and putting it on.

As per usual, I blamed the 'look' on external forces, like the type and colour of the make up and, don't forget the classic, "I just need to practice" factor.

A number of years ago, I decided that I was going to learn a thing or two about make up. I went to the drug store (some might argue that was my first mistake) and was bombarded by the sheer magnitude of products available.

There were different brands (of course), all with different colours (blue black, black black, brown black, midnight black, soft black) and products for different types of skin. It was all very overwhelming. I think bought one mascara and one nail polish before I ran out of the building.

A few years later, I decided, once again, that I had to learn about make up. So I built up the necessary courage and tackled the drug store once again. Again, I was bombarded by options. I decided that the best thing to do was to buy colours I liked. Complexion and colouring be damned. I picked out a set of really nice plum eye shadows. I applied it according to the package directions, and yet:

Train wreck. I didn't try again for another couple years. Just as I'm in the drug store for the third time eyeing plum eye shadow (I also have memory issues), something catches my eye. It's a set of eye shadow for blue eyes. I have blue eyes! I scooped it up and brought it home. Only:

Less than successful. A couple more years go by and my brother is about to get married. Realizing that the atrocity I call my face would be captured in hundreds of photos I decided I needed professional help. I went to a salon to have my hair and make up done. The lady did my hair and was about to start my make up when she decided to go over the colour scheme with me.

"I think black and gold would look really good on you". My first instinct was "Dear God, that will look hideous, what is she thinking?!?". I toned it down some and expressed my skepticism with a diplomatic "Don't you think black is a little dark for my skin?". She assured me that it was not and it would look good. Based on my judgment in the past, I decided to trust her.

I got compliments all night about this black and gold eye make up. After the fact, I decided to hit the drug store with black and gold in mind. I ended up finding a set of eye shadow that had copper and brown (close enough) for blue eyes. My first instinct was to ditch it based on the hooker look I got from the last blue-eyed-set; I kept looking for "more gold, less copper", but kept coming back to the damn set. I bought it and a fancy brush, applied it according to the package directions and, for the first time ever, I wasn't a train wreck. Almay did something right.

I Heart Foosball

I just wanted to put my love foosball out there. This post is, in no way, shape or form, related to foosball; this post is about painting. I recently painted this cabinet/chest thing of mine and it reminded me of my grandmother. Painting always reminds me of Granny.

Granny wasn't exactly a Domestic Diva; as illustrated in this post when she gave me a raw hot dog for lunch. Thanks Granny. Even though she wasn't known for cooking, or cleaning, or grocery shopping, there was one thing she did more often, and better, than most everyone else. And that thing was painting.

Nearly every year, Granny would paint her kitchen. Other rooms too, but for some odd reason she was painting kitchens more often than not. One time she was 'house sitting' when my mom was out of town for a week; she painted. My mom came back to a blue kitchen... hope you like the colour, Lolo.

Needless to say, it was very common to see Granny with a paint brush in her hand while we were growing up. Kids being kids, and always sticking their noses in where they don't belong, naturally me & Danny wanted to help.

She always humoured us and let us. She'd give each of us a paint brush and we'd go to town.

Granny loved it, I swear. She would always say admiringly how we had 3 generations of painters in the family. Granny called us "The Three Painters". Very original, I know.

I think painting appealed to Granny for the same reasons mowing the lawn appeals to me:

1) Fulfillment from a hard days' work - you work hard, but it looks so much better afterwards, it was worth it. Granny was always talking about 'elbow grease' and things that build your character or put 'hair on yer chest'

2) Instant gratification - you can see the difference as soon as you put the roller to the wall, or the mower to the lawn. You can also see where you left off, which is helpful, considering...

3) Beer breaks - you can have as many as your little heart desires, providing you still get the job done* (*neatly when painting; *safely when mowing)

After we completed enough work for the time being, Granny would announce a beer break. We'd all put down our brushes and rollers and take a break. Granny would crack a cold one and start drinking; me & Danny would... well, ask for some!

She always humoured us and let us. She'd give each of us a glass (with 'just a wee bit') and we'd go to town.

Eventually, we came to like the taste of beer, and even though we had a combined age of 9, we managed to figure out:

One day, she was painting and we were helping (big surprise), Granny announced it was time for a beer break, so we all gathered around the table and had a glass of beer. When we got back to work "the roller had barely touched the wall when..."

Danny declared it was time for a beer break. Granny was never one to turn down a beer, so she played along and we had two beer breaks in a row. Epic day! Danny (being the lush he is) tried to pull it again. Granny was of the "fool me once..." mindset, so she didn't play along the second time.

Granny retold that story time and time again; I think it was her favorite memory of The Three Painters. My favorite memory of The Three Painters, doesn't even involve The Three Painters painting. Wrap your head around that.

One year at Christmas, Granny was decorating the house; me & Danny came out from playing just as she was getting off a ladder. Granny had strung up a silver garland across the living room ceiling; she asked us how it looked, we said it looked good. I don't think she took us very seriously though, because the next time we came out from playing:

Granny: So - how does it look?

...

Danny: Oh - we saw it already.

Me: No - it's gold now!

Danny: Oh - you changed it.

Me: No - she painted it!!!

...

...

Granny: So - how does it look?

 

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations

Talk about misdirected anger!

I've been known to talk in my sleep. I used to do it a lot as a kid, but as I've gotten older, my tendency to talk has diminished. In my sleep, that is; apparently, my tendency to talk in real life has only gotten worse.

There were times when I would be sleeping soundly.

And having a nice dream, that perhaps got a little too vivid.

Since I was asleep, I'd just go right on sleeping.

My brother, however, would be getting home from work and he would hear me in my room, talking.

He'd wonder what the commotion was all about and would come in to check on me. Only to find me alone. And asleep.

I would continue blissfully sleeping, but I would also interact with him. Repeating whatever the hell I was just talking/dreaming about.

He never understood what I was saying. I would keep repeating it, getting louder and louder and more and more agitated, just trying to make him understand.

It wouldn't work. I would just keep yelling and he'd keep saying "WHAT?!?!". To me, (in my sleep-riddled-semi-dream-world) I was being very clear. Enunciating each word carefully and loudly. I didn't realize that, to him (the person that was awake and functioning), I was just a garble-mouth that was making no sense whatsoever.

He would end up walking out and shutting my door. In the morning I would wake up with my door closed and a vague recollection of talking to my brother but I would have no idea what we talked about. And neither would he.

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for lending me her tablet so I could draw these terrible pictures. I totally think I'm buying a tab. I'm sorry.

Janitors aren't waste - they're people

I've known for quite some time that my drawing skills are somewhat... lacking. Despite my lack of talent and perspective, I often try to draw, even if just to give EliseArt a little more to go on than "Me - mopey". She has received a number of very, very bad drawings that were supposed to 'help'.

Even though my pen and paper drawings turn out like that (and sometimes worse), I still occasionally convince myself that if I try hard enough I can draw. I'll open up paint and start trying. When it looks like shit and/or takes far, far too long, I blame my incompetence on external factors, like the mouse. Clearly, it's the mouse's fault that my drawings turn out like this:

So, I started entertaining the idea of buying a drawing tablet so that I have a pen, because that will fix everything. Once I sobered up, I realized that I was kidding myself. I highly doubt that a drawing tablet will help matters. But... since I'm, like, a scientist, and stuff, I need to test this theory out. So, I've asked EliseArt if I can borrow her tablet for the night. When I get said tablet, I will re-create the above picture and you can judge whether or not it's worth me spending the money on a tablet.

*Update: (July 14, 2011) - added tablet picture

 

 *Update: (July 14, 2011) - I think my drawing has improved, but not remarkably. Now I'm at the point where I convince myself that if I practice enough and try hard enough I can do it and the tablet won't be an $80 paperweight. What's your opinion, Mighty Reader?

Disclaimer - I do not intend to draw all pictures in this blog - that would be cruel and unusual punishment and I don't want to lose the 3 readers I've managed to hold on to. EliseArt, you won't get off that easy - you must earn your 12% cut!