"MY EYES! THE GOGGLES DO NOTHING!"
So today was sort of a weird day. Daylight Savings has screwed my internal clock in strange ways, so it's 3:30 in the morning and I'm still awake and I need to sleep soon because if I'm too tired to wake up in the morning WHO WILL FEED WIGGLES?
So anyway, I'm tired and in kind of a weird mood, so here are some things I've been thinking about lately:
Speaking of Wiggles, she has webbed feet. This isn't news to me, but I'm now wondering if Papa Wiggles, whatever stray dog he might have been, was pure whippet. Do whippets have webbed feet? The internet is unforthcoming on this subject.
Wolves make me very sad, because I learned about them. Wolf pups are adorable little things that lick the adults' faces when they return from the hunt to encourage them to regurgitate undigested meat so that the pups can feast. The mothers don't leave the dens until the pups do except to get food from the returning hunt. The pups weight about 1lb when born and open their eyes at 10-13 days. All wolf pups are born with blue eyes. In my head, I am picturing tiny wolf puppies staring up at me with big blue eyes. 50% or more of them do not make it to adulthood. Wolves in captivity live to about 16 years old, but the majority of wild wolves live less than a third that long. 60-90% of wolf deaths are attributed to humans. When a member of the pack dies, the rest of the pack mourns them. And all of this made me very sad. The lesson here is that I should never learn anything. I believe Homer Simpson made a similar point, but like a fool, I DID NOT LISTEN.
Wolves ARE THE ONLY ANIMAL THAT KILLS FOR REVENGE. That is what movies recounted to me by Katiria have taught me.
I had the most ridiculously touchy-feely odd audition today. The director wanted us to talk about why we wanted to be involved in ~this play~ and I'm all like "because I googled auditions in CT and this popped up" except I made up something that sounded more like I cared about this play in particular. I think I worked Black Books and The IT Crowd into it somehow, but in retrospect, that may not have been a wise move as they have nothing to do with the play I was auditioning for. Then we did improv, which I'm not great at, and I ended up reading for characters that I wasn't auditioning for because I'm about two decades too young. The director didn't have me read much, which is either a good sign or a bad sign. Only time will tell which.
My father spent Saturday cleaning the house. The entire day. He vacuumed everything for the whole day. Then he spent all of Sunday cleaning the bathroom. All of Sunday. One bathroom. It still smells of industrial-strength cleaner, which can't be good for anybody. I thought he was done, but then he spent all of today vacuuming everything again. Sometimes, I think, one can go too far.
I have recently learned that Arthur Darvill smokes. This makes me sad, mainly because I couldn't just run up to him on the street and kiss him unless he'd brushed his teeth beforehand, and how does one make sure of that sort of thing unless one has been following Arthur Darvill in a way that might not be entirely sane/healthy/legal?
The Ponds will wear matching shirts in Season 7. I know this. I have seen photographic evidence. Rory tries to hide his under a jacket, BUT WE CAN ALL SEE UNDER YOUR JACKET, RORY. WE KNOW THE TRUTH. Here is proof of the truth. BEHOLD THE MATCHINGNESS. (no spoilers, other than the MATCHING)
I got attacked by a grasshopper today. I was sitting on the deck with Wiggles, minding my own business, and it leaped straight at me. And normally I'm cool with grasshoppers, but this bastard had a more than usually aggressive air to it. I like spring, but not the insects that come with it.
Some dickbag in a Mustang cut me off today. He went out of his way to speed up to cut me off, then drove really slowly. Normally I'm against tailgating, but I was in a hurry and in a bad mood and by god, I tailgated him all the way to Coventry. Nothing pisses me off like people who speed up and force you into a deathmatch race to decide who will be first then cut you off and then drive under the speed limit on a one-lane road through like four damn towns. I'm starting to wonder whether I have driving-related anger management problems.
I love penguins, and I'm tempted to learn about them, but we all know how learning goes. So instead I'm going to watch that episode of Futurama with the penguins. PENGUINS WITH SHOTGUNS.
And that's what my mind is mulling over at this hour of the morning.
So anyway, I'm tired and in kind of a weird mood, so here are some things I've been thinking about lately:
Speaking of Wiggles, she has webbed feet. This isn't news to me, but I'm now wondering if Papa Wiggles, whatever stray dog he might have been, was pure whippet. Do whippets have webbed feet? The internet is unforthcoming on this subject.
Wolves make me very sad, because I learned about them. Wolf pups are adorable little things that lick the adults' faces when they return from the hunt to encourage them to regurgitate undigested meat so that the pups can feast. The mothers don't leave the dens until the pups do except to get food from the returning hunt. The pups weight about 1lb when born and open their eyes at 10-13 days. All wolf pups are born with blue eyes. In my head, I am picturing tiny wolf puppies staring up at me with big blue eyes. 50% or more of them do not make it to adulthood. Wolves in captivity live to about 16 years old, but the majority of wild wolves live less than a third that long. 60-90% of wolf deaths are attributed to humans. When a member of the pack dies, the rest of the pack mourns them. And all of this made me very sad. The lesson here is that I should never learn anything. I believe Homer Simpson made a similar point, but like a fool, I DID NOT LISTEN.
Wolves ARE THE ONLY ANIMAL THAT KILLS FOR REVENGE. That is what movies recounted to me by Katiria have taught me.
I had the most ridiculously touchy-feely odd audition today. The director wanted us to talk about why we wanted to be involved in ~this play~ and I'm all like "because I googled auditions in CT and this popped up" except I made up something that sounded more like I cared about this play in particular. I think I worked Black Books and The IT Crowd into it somehow, but in retrospect, that may not have been a wise move as they have nothing to do with the play I was auditioning for. Then we did improv, which I'm not great at, and I ended up reading for characters that I wasn't auditioning for because I'm about two decades too young. The director didn't have me read much, which is either a good sign or a bad sign. Only time will tell which.
My father spent Saturday cleaning the house. The entire day. He vacuumed everything for the whole day. Then he spent all of Sunday cleaning the bathroom. All of Sunday. One bathroom. It still smells of industrial-strength cleaner, which can't be good for anybody. I thought he was done, but then he spent all of today vacuuming everything again. Sometimes, I think, one can go too far.
I have recently learned that Arthur Darvill smokes. This makes me sad, mainly because I couldn't just run up to him on the street and kiss him unless he'd brushed his teeth beforehand, and how does one make sure of that sort of thing unless one has been following Arthur Darvill in a way that might not be entirely sane/healthy/legal?
The Ponds will wear matching shirts in Season 7. I know this. I have seen photographic evidence. Rory tries to hide his under a jacket, BUT WE CAN ALL SEE UNDER YOUR JACKET, RORY. WE KNOW THE TRUTH. Here is proof of the truth. BEHOLD THE MATCHINGNESS. (no spoilers, other than the MATCHING)
I got attacked by a grasshopper today. I was sitting on the deck with Wiggles, minding my own business, and it leaped straight at me. And normally I'm cool with grasshoppers, but this bastard had a more than usually aggressive air to it. I like spring, but not the insects that come with it.
Some dickbag in a Mustang cut me off today. He went out of his way to speed up to cut me off, then drove really slowly. Normally I'm against tailgating, but I was in a hurry and in a bad mood and by god, I tailgated him all the way to Coventry. Nothing pisses me off like people who speed up and force you into a deathmatch race to decide who will be first then cut you off and then drive under the speed limit on a one-lane road through like four damn towns. I'm starting to wonder whether I have driving-related anger management problems.
I love penguins, and I'm tempted to learn about them, but we all know how learning goes. So instead I'm going to watch that episode of Futurama with the penguins. PENGUINS WITH SHOTGUNS.
And that's what my mind is mulling over at this hour of the morning.