Kaori`s XXX Blog!!

I’m now 1500 miles away from home, and totally bagged!! No post tonight!!!!!
I’m in the land of giant mouse ears…. Wizard hats… etc!

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Anyways… Die with a T indeed…

I decided to give myself a little treat today, and after visits to two banks running errands, I drove through a McDonalds’ for my cheapo treat: Cinnamon Melts and a large Coke.

I placed my order: “I’d like a Cinnamon Melts and a large Coke, please.”

I pulled up to the first window and paid.

I pulled up to the second window and retrieved my goodies.

I drove home.

I ate some Cinnamon Melt, happy with the nomminess, and took a sip of my Coke. Odd, I thought. It tastes different today. Must be a slightly off club soda to syrup mix.

I ate some more, drank a bit more. It still tasted funny.

I finished my Cinnamon Melts, drank some more. Still weird.

I finally looked at the lid, and noticed that the little pop-up button by the D was depressed, indicating that this was a great big Diet Coke. Yech, no wonder I thought it tasted weird! Do. Not. Like. Diet. Pop. Urk.

I checked the receipt taped to my takeout bag. Sure enough, the guy taking my order had entered in Diet Coke for my order, so it’s not the case that I just had the bad fortune of being handed someone else’s pop. I wonder why he thought I wanted Diet? The only part of what I said in placing the order that could remotely have been heard as Diet was I’d like a, but that was at the very beginning, which would have made my order Diet Cinnamon Melts and a large Coke, please, which makes absolutely no sense.

So there I sat, with a blurky large Diet Coke, and two options – drink it or pitch it. It only cost me a dollar, so it totally wasn’t worth getting back in the car and driving back there to complain and get the pop that I actually wanted. I settled on drinking it anyway. After all, I did spend an whole dollar on it, so I was going to drink my pop, darnitall!

As it turned out, this was a mistake. As I reached the two-thirds mark on the drink, I began to feel some uneasiness in my tummy. The uneasiness developed into an uncomfortably sore tummy that lasted for about an hour. It would seem that my body does not like aspartame, or one of the other interesting compounds they use to make a sweetened beverage that miraculously does not contain calories.

Now I know better. Avoid diet pop. Always. Full stop.

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Okay guys, there’s something about tanned skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. It’s incredibly attractive – and makes me wish that I was blonde and blue eyed! It would also help to live in California near a beach. Some place warm, near an ocean…. mmmmm..

Anyways… Stalled….
So I’ve got myself a nice little army of blue zombies in Zombie Farm. They’re a mix of Zmurfs and ZomBeauties, with one regular green zombie that the game gave me as a “bonus” one day. My army is at its maximum size.

The blue zombies are significantly stronger and tougher than the regular green ones, and I am once again able to trounce Old McDonnell and his farmhands – no more getting “e-i-e-i-owned” for a while now! In fact, the past few invasions I’ve done have wrapped up with me not losing a single zombie – not even that weak green freebie I got, he’s been able to be protected by the herd so far.

While this seems great, there is a downside to this – not losing zombies means I’m not planting any new zombies, nor am I planting any vegetable crops in the hopes of mutating my zombies, which means I’m not advancing any in the game. Sadly, successful invasions don’t award experience points – I got some for the very first invasion, because it was successful, but every single one after that has given me bupkiss. Well. I get some gold. But gold isn’t the issue here, since I get gold from harvesting the regular crops too. Gold I got. Experience I need.

I wonder how I should proceed from here? I have a sneaking suspicion that Old McDonnell won’t get any tougher until I’ve advanced some more, level-wise. Probably I should just keep planting zombies for the experience – the excess zombies get sold automagically upon harvesting. It seems so cheap. But I think the game is forcing my hand here.

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Anyways, I’ve been accused of being picky, fussy, fussbudgety, exacting, demanding – basically, being one of those people who insists that things must be just so.

When one of these accusations is lobbed in my direction, I counter it with an insistent Not so! I insist that I am in fact a very easy going person, happy to go with the flow, never imposing my will on others.

There may, however, be a teensy tinsy grain of truth to those accusations.

I had company for dinner this evening, and at one point one of my guests was trying out the new chair in the living room. The chair has an accompanying ottoman, and my guest wanted to be angled more towards the centre of the room, so he moved the ottoman about half a foot to the left. Now, I watched him do this, and said nothing.

BUT after he’d left? I rather promptly scooted the ottoman back to its proper original position. Not as soon as the door had shut after he’d gone, but within thirty minutes of his leaving.

It’s not like I have a problem or anything.

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Anyways, I gave someone a lift to the airport today….

As I approached the terminal, I remembered that some people out there seem to have a real allergy to airports. They really don’t like them, get all tense and grouchy if they have to be near them, never mind in them, and will complain bitterly about time spent waiting in the airport.

Me? I’ve never really minded airports. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a globe trotter, but I’ve spent my fair share of time waiting in airports. I’ve experienced hours of delays – delays sufficiently long that the airline employees were sent out with complimentary juice boxes for all the waiting passengers, I’ve sat watching the gate somewhat nervously as a flight other than mine got cancelled, and passengers swarmed the desk trying to get onto my flight. I’ve had delays that caused me to miss connections, resulting in unexpected overnight stays – okay, this only happened once, but still, it was a surprise overnight in Toronto. Yes, the airline paid for my accommodations, and they had given me some vouchers for food too, but the vouchers were only good for the hotel restaurant, where the cost of the food exceeded the value of the vouchers. That was a little irritating. And I suppose they did let me know that their delay meant I would be stuck overnight in Toronto before I left Montreal, but my options were to either take the flight anyway and be put up in the airport hotel overnight, or to have the airline pay for my cab ride back home again, but I’d have to pay for my transportation back to the airport the next day. Admittedly, I was a bit annoyed that they wouldn’t pay my taxi fare both to and from the airport in Montreal, so I opted for the more expensive hotel fare in Toronto – sometimes I’m a spiteful little thing… ^_^

Anyway. The point is that my experience with air travel hasn’t all been roses and rainbows, and yet I don’t hold grudges against airports. In fact, airports can be pretty neat places. Usually there are some visually interesting bits that you can spend a bit of time looking at – I suppose the idea is to give those travellers passing through a bit of a sense of the local flavour, I’ve seen lots of nifty sculptures and bits of art, and sometimes there are sort of locally-known shops in there too. Huge hubs are pretty interesting places – they’re just so massive. The little airports are interesting too – after having seen major hubs, you get to the smaller airports and wonder how they can manage to make it all work with fewer resources.

Me? I like airports. Not that I’d want to live in one or anything, but mostly I have positive associations with them. Even though not all my travel is for pleasure, I still get excited about going to the airport.

Maybe it’s because part of me is convinced that no matter what I’m going to the airport for, I’m about to embark on a grand, epic adventure… Where’s my explorer hat?

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As always, I’m behind schedule…

I seem to exist in this state where I am perpetually behind schedule.

I’ve tried to allow myself extra time to make up for my apparent inability to correctly estimate how long it will take me to do something. This always fails.

I’ve set all my watches ahead to try to keep me on time – if I look at my watch and believe I have enough time and leave when I am actually leaving earlier than I think, this increases the odds of my arriving on time. This doesn’t really work either. Things have improved somewhat since I made the decision to set my watches fast by a number of minutes that is not precisely known to me – instead of knowing my watch is, say, three minutes fast, I just know it’s a bit fast. So I can’t tell myself that I really have three more minutes than I think I do, since it might only be one, or it might even be five. This does help some with my inability to estimate accordingly, since it basically adds a small window of extra time into my planning.

Problem #1: I never really know what time it is, and sometimes, it’s important to know precisely what time it is.

Problem #2: I’ve been know to try to take that unknown window of extra time into account when planning, and I’ve figured the size of the window wrong, resulting in me being late anyway.

I suspect this is some deeply rooted aspect of my personality, and the only way to fix it is to move to some place where punctuality is highly devalued. I hear Spain is like that. Maybe I ought to move to Spain….

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Anyways.. I’m giving in…

Today, I attempted two invasions on Old McDonnell’s farm in Zombie Farm. Both times, I had plenty of zombies – 15 the first time, 16 the second; my army cannot exceed 16 zombies. Both times, my zombies were very hungry, so they were quite keen to get into the fray of the invasion.

And both times, I was thoroughly whupped.

It became abundantly clear after the second loss that this game has been constructed in such a way that the only way I can continue playing is if I purchase that Blue Headstone.

Now, part of me is miffed, and wants to just walk away, move on to something else.

A larger, more vocal part of me, on the other hand, is screaming that it’s well worth one lousy dollar to keep playing.

So I paid the dollar. I got my Blue Headstone. I’ve grown some blue zombies – Zmurfs, with some ZomBeauties planted to replace the Zmurfs as needed.

I’ve also attempted another invasion, with hungry zombies, so not as enthusiastic as very hungry zombies, and I only lost one of my Zmurfs.

I’m back at it! Watch out, Old McDonnell. I’m coming for your brains. Though I suspect those are in relatively short supply, since he keeps coming back after my zombies tear through his farm. I’d think if he were smarter, he’d leave….

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Anyways, I’m conflicted…

I’ve been happily playing Zombie Farm on my iPhone for a few weeks now….

About a week ago, maybe, I got myself up to level 8, which unlocked the Zmurf zombies. I eagerly tried to plant them, and was told I needed to get the Blue Headstone first before I would be able to plant any blue zombies. So I checked it out, and saw that the only way to get the Blue Headstone was to buy it for $1 USD. At that time, I figured, Nuts to that and continued growing Girl Zombies and Mini Zombies as needed.

Then I leveled up again, and unlocked ZomBeauty, only to discover that this was another blue zombie that I could not plant without paying that $1 USD. Again, I mentally flipped the game the bird and continued on.

Today I leveled up to level 10. I unlocked the Zyborg, and surprise surprise, it’s another blue zombie that I cannot plant.

But an interesting thing happened when I hit level 10. The game played me a little animation. First, it acknowledged that I seem to be enjoying the game, which is true. It then went on to implore that I purchase that Blue Headstone to continue enjoying the game. It reminded me that the game had been provided for free, and that this purchase would be a little nod of encouragement to the game’s developers. It then went on to tell me that purchasing the Blue Headstone would not only allow me to grow blue zombies, but it would also later unlock the Red Headstone for purchase with a brain, which would in turn allow me to grow red zombies at higher levels. All this fun could be mine for one measly US dollar.

Now, I’ve been thinking about this. They’re right, it’s just a dollar, and there are no ads in the game, so it’s really the only bit of revenue I’d be sending the developers’ way, and part of me feels that I should support them since I’m enjoying the fruits of their efforts.

Then again, another part of me is feeling rather blackmailed by this – it looks like the game is forcing me to buy the Blue Headstone in order to continue progressing, when the initial offering was a free game. It’s not truly a free game, it’s free until you hit a certain point, after which you must pay in order to proceed. And then keep paying.

But they only want a dollar.

But a free game should be a free game.

I still don’t know if I’m going to be parting with that dollar or not.

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Anyways… Die die die!!!!

I am my mother’s daughter. I don’t like bugs.

It matters not whether they are winged or crawly. It matters not how many legs they have – be it six, eight, or many more. It matters not whether they are the sort that hunt humans, the sort that are pests to humans, or the sort that are beneficial to humans.

I don’t like any of them, and I really don’t like it when they get into my living space. Too bad for me, this is pretty much inevitable in the summertime, since I have to open the door to leave, and open it again to come back home, and the little opportunistic freaks are fast. That and my home is not a hermetically sealed box, so I realize that there are probably many other ways that insects can gain access that I would really rather not think about.

So I understand that being one of the many creatures that walk this earth, the probability of me having to deal with insect encounters in my home runs pretty high.

Too bad for them, though, I have a secret weapon – a bug zapper. It’s a thing that’s sort of shaped like a tennis racquet, but smaller, with tines where the tennis racket strings would be that become electrified at the press of a button thanks to a battery. This thing is fabulous because it means I can kill the rotters without having to touch them or squish them, or clean up the squishing aftermath, and it’s particularly useful with winged ones, because I can swing wildly at the area where I last saw the bug, and I have a better chance at getting it armed than I do trying to clap at it on my own. Those flying ones all seem to have a weird teleporting ability – they’ll suddenly wink out of sight even though you haven’t taken your eyes off them and you haven’t blinked. Argh.

I just got one of the airborne ones with my electro-racquet. It eluded me for a bit, but I persisted in my hunt, and was rewarded with watching the evil thing sizzle on the electrified tines, then I got the deep satisfaction of flushing the dead thing down the toilet. It is gone away from me forever.

Yup. I don’t like bugs.

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Anyways… Decreased tolerance…
For a period of about two years, I only cut my hair once a year. Meaning my bangs would routinely grow to the point that they weren’t really bangs anymore.

I remember being okay throughout that growth process, but I’m wondering if I’ve mentally blocked something out, or if I’ve just gotten fussier recently, because right now? My bangs are driving me bonkers.

They’re too short to tuck behind my ear. They’re too long to wear as bangs proper. They look good if I sweep them off to the side, but they’re so long that they’re too heavy to just stay swept off – I move my head, and down they come, obstructing my view and tickling the side of my nose, making it itch like crazy.

I still want to put off my next haircut.

I need to do something about my bangs.

I’m pretty sure cutting them myself is not the appropriate solution – I’ve been known to cut them crookedly and horribly in the past.

Maybe it’s time to dig in my drawer and see if I have any old clips kicking about.

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