-Continuation from blog PinkyGuerrero
-Most of the graphics and vids click to sources.
-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
 photo README2.gif

Translate

Monday, July 30, 2018

brokeded

click for humer 😁
Busy day, long week coming up, camping out in the part of my head that keeps me floating above it all so I can stay focused and sane and hopefully sweet.





Sunday, July 29, 2018

the Pinklist begins


~started last week and I forgot about it~

I was wondering how long it would be before a hijacker hopped on. I'd like to gratz my first to show up, the ever popular pizza imperia that actually clicks out to parkabovedotcom with a 20-line script just in the address that probably gets my dental records while it's at it.

The ultimate list of referrer spam

I recognize at least 20 on that list that made me crazy on my last blog. Interesting note, I didn't get ANY of that on this new blog until I listed it with my google properties. Made over 40 posts without any hitchhikers, and then I blew it. *shakes fist at google*

*sigh*

Also, Peru has joined my merry mashup of miscreants. It's the richest country in the world, and also the top cocaine producer. They have all kinds of cool stuff there, like mummies and the Inca, mystical doorways to other worlds across the cosmos, Nazca lines, Cusco, and ancient elongated skulls that some purport to be alien-human hybrids. Also, besides their politics being scary, I think they have bunkers in the mountains for the uber wealthy around the world in case an asteroid hits or they decide to nuke everyone per the Georgia Guidestones. Hi, Peru. *waves*

For newbies, this goes back to The Pinklist, and more fun with GWT hijacking on my old blog.

~now it's today~

Hello, person who opened every single thing openable on here in 10 minutes flat and I can see your house because failure to mask. Thanks for the multiple shares, pretend I served you some complimentary nachos, and kudos for the crazy widget trails that looked like you were copying every piece of code on my page. If this was bait, you're not the first. If this was a hack, sorry if you didn't get much. If this was pure innocence, not a clue what that blitz was. It's really rare I see a visitor trail blazing through like the one you left today. *standing up, slow clap* Brava.

Andy Baio: Think You Can Hide, Anonymous Blogger? Two Words: Google Analytics

Actually, statcounter caught that, I didn't even waste my time looking for you in analytics.

Ok, on to real life. Crazy weekend, some of you following caught the kiddo broken arm surgery overnight in hospital thing. We're on the second night, comes home tomorrow. Thanx to everyone across my medias and gaming who expressed concerns and good cheer, and now I'm in faceplant spoonie mode while bonenado takes care of a few things this evening. I'm back on duty tomorrow for trip home from hospital, and may not be available for much else.

3 1/2 weeks until my double surgery, so the race is on against a cosmos aiming for the big target painted on my life, will I complete my mission to win back my bedroom before the big recovery week? Bets are on, and if I manage to successfully duck and dodge in slo-mo it'll be pure accident. I'm definitely in dumb wut? mode right now. I'm this close to Arthur Dent tripping and majestically flying level. (Definitely worth the click and read if you don't know wth I'm talking about.)

This just came in on notifications (likely a fan reupload to keep it available), so go bump up your brain and awareness levels. David Wilcock 2018 * With Zero Point Energy and Advanced Propulsion Technology! Original channel is at Divine Cosmos and possibly content shadowed by Discover the Secret. The main thing is pure information not available in mainstream education. It's nice finding people who spend lifetimes on research on information that is very difficult to get openly. Freedom of information and freedom of speech are an illusion, and I appreciate people putting their lives on the line to keep sharing.


Saturday, July 28, 2018

wascally wabbit

One of my life challenges is being a germ phobe. So when a rabbit plunged underneath my kitchen table and knocked over an electric popcorn popper I was storing underneath against the wall and then sat on the nonwashable nonstick cooking surface, I automatically nixed that popcorn popper from future use. That's how I am.

I didn't use to be that stringent. Many years of chronic illness later, I am keenly aware that germs can wreak havoc in our bodies. I grew up on a farm, and although I was strong and very capable of long work days (the horror, lol), I am not a strong adult. Pathogens and injuries are cumulative, and every day I face hard work just getting out of bed and keeping a routine going.

My depression went into the extremes this last year, but I kept doggedly at least keeping up with a schedule, forcing myself to keep cleaning up after others over and over, day in and day out. We have a verbal agreement that as long as they are out making money and living emotionally healthy lives, I will do the laundry and the dishes, and I throw in cleaning the bathrooms once in awhile. I've already made it through one surgery during this extra challenge, basically still doing all these chores myself when I should have probably been in bed, and in about a month I face a double surgery that will knock me off a chore schedule for at least a week or two. Right hand, right knee. You can imagine the fail I feel looking around my house. I could post pictures, but since a 'friend' showed up out of the blue and put my house all over the internet some years ago, and then a visiting group from China walked through my house another year unannounced, taking pictures over every room including the pile of dirty dishes on my counter during one of my chronic months when everything fell apart, I don't feel inclined to add to that kind of stuff.

In short, no one cleans up after me. They gag just cleaning up after themselves, so they don't. I find dishes all over the house, dirty socks have sat on my kitchen counter next to open food, stuff in the fridge I never bought will sit and rot until I throw it out, and on really bad days my house smells like something died.

I spent the first two days of this 'vacation' airing out my house, scrubbing the trash can, deep cleaning bathrooms and floors, literally disinfecting a rabbit cage that stunk to high heaven, on top of executing a new plan.

This is obviously no longer 'my house'. I am allowed to live here, yes, but all three stories are saturated with other people's things. A lot of my stress is about shared space. I'm a phobe, it's hard for me to share space. I need a place to withdraw, which is difficult. A person might not believe she did this, but three different times in the week before departure, I was walked in on in my own bedroom without so much as a knock, and the talking started the second the door was open. No knock, no hello mind if I come in and tell you something, no good morning or how's it going. Just full on walking in without warning. She's 30. It's my house, my bedroom. My mind is blown every time that happens. I don't own one square foot of sanctity or solitude in my own home. And I'm very forgiving of it because I know, given the personalities of the people I married into, this is much better than fussing.

But I need a boundary. I spent this week 'pulling back'. I cleaned out the last of my stuff in the livingroom and pulled in into my bedroom. Everything that is not mine or Scott's is going to be pushed out of my bedroom before my double surgery date. By the time I'm home recovering from surgery, I will have a clean peaceful bedroom to rest in.

I'm done with the rabbit. I like rabbits, I grew up with rabbits, but nothing is being done to satiate this rabbit's craving to chew, and it's only a matter of time before our expensive electronics become useless. No attention has been given to putting a little time and effort into protecting electrical cords to appliances that will cost thousands to replace. No pet toys for chewing show up. This rabbit has spent weeks throwing itself against the cage door upstairs. It absolutely hates living here. I had the rabbit brought down to the kitchen to care for while everyone was gone, and aside from being shut into a bathroom for a few hours to hop around every day, which it hates, throwing itself against and chewing the door, it has been in its cage, and I daresay, this is the longest its cage has been this clean since it moved into this house. This is not a happy rabbit. It feels the same way I feel, trapped and helpless to do anything about it.

I got a lot done though. Stripping out drawers and being able to lay everything out on my livingroom floor for a week without anyone walking on or moving any of it has been delightful. The longer my stuff sat all around me being organized, the lower my stress went until I was so relaxed that I actually felt good. I was doing all kinds of work with very little pain stopping me.

They come home today, any time now. I woke up 2 hours ago with a headache, and every joing in my body hurts. Interesting.

I love my people. I think they are fine the way they are, and this is just how it is. I don't think I fit in with them. I have made myself fit with with lots of concessions over many years. That has taken a big toll on me. I am different and they don't understand, just like they don't really see how the rabbit feels. They don't know what to do for me, so they walk off, just like they walk off from the rabbit. I don't feel an affinity for the rabbit because it's just more work, in my opinion. Whatever 'love' that is supposed to be going on with a pet is being entirely lost on this rabbit. It's just a piece of furniture, a fluffy doll to babysit the kid, something to learn about life on.

Unlike the rabbit, I don't feel like I'm something to learn about life on. I am a useful servant. In my own home.

I needed to get this out before my people walk in the door. It helps just to get the words out of the way. I hate judgmentalism because I grew up with it, and I'm finding out it takes a lot to keep positivity in focus. I hate being a cranky gripey person, and not feeling well makes it harder to be sweet. I want them to be happy to come home. I want to be happy to see them. I did miss them, but I sure didn't miss the extra work.

Time to let this go. Maybe I can sneak that popcorn popper out to the trash before they pull in.

p.s. I've been bringing in handfuls of fresh clover from the yard for the rabbit, also has things to chew on this week, plus a little fresh lettuce. It's been a bit calmer, but until it's free of this cage, I'm afraid it will always be sulky, and I don't blame it one bit.

Friday, July 27, 2018

revolutionary David Wilcock- my fave brain on the planet, and you will be tested over that

click for facebook

:edit:  Since the vid has been pulled, that's all we get here now. You will still be tested on this. 😂

If you are bored, here is every post I made on my old blog that has the word "David" in it.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

brain trained to fight for our right to ignorance

Click this to get lost in pages of fun stuff.

So if you were interested in what I glossed over the other day about the 12 Monkeys mocking the Nazis having a 'bell' (die glocke) that was important to the time traveling (time ending) city-sized machine called Titan, you might also find this historical compilation of interviews about very real science and experimentation compelling. I loved it.


I've said often enough that what most of us see on television is old science. What most of us barely even understand yet in science fiction is already last decade's antique trash. There's a lot of 'new' science showing up in several scifi shows last five years, but they gloss over it so quickly assuming no one will get it and instead focus on the interrelationships among team members or coping strategies of groups that the science gets lost.

What if you are seeing stuff nearly every day on television that is not only 'new' science for real, but technology we could actually be using now if it weren't for a handful of people at the top of the food chain not allowing us to have access? Because it really is true that people have already invented cars that can run very cheaply on other things than gas, that electricity can be shared and stored more efficiently in other ways than we have access to, that providing food and health care to the entire world would actually be much cheaper than fighting wars for world bankers who are wealthier than whole countries.

It really is true, and people keep dying trying to get that information out to us.

And that struggle to keep truth coming out to the public is scarier and more intense than any movie you've ever watched about fictional espionage, about any series you've ever been glued to about national defense, international strain, or corporate crime.

What if it's all real, and the people committing their lives to keeping truth alive are really in the fight for their lives, right now?

What do we really know about Julian Assange? You can say what you want, but a movie just about this last year would be intensely gripping. What do we really know about mainstream media? You can say what you want, but the timing of certain events have become so conspicuously regular and even perfectly timed that they are being predicted ahead of time regularly now. What do we really know about anything on this earth, except what we hear on opinionated talk shows and see through viral memes? You can say what you want, but no one can say anything any more without either being drowned out in automatic bah humbug or agreeing with a stampeding crowd just to keep peace with friends on social media.

What if everything you ever wanted to know about anything real going on was actually all available right under your noses with simple thumb clicks, and your brain was already so trained to brush it off as ridiculous that you never got to really know something you always really wanted to know?

My dad go so excited about gyros and torsion fields when I was a kid. He never had a real science class in his life. He got so excited about people trying to say things and then they'd be hushed up again. We all kind of shook our heads.

And now I'm finding out every bit of it was true. All the science Hitler was amassing in the brains he stole. All the crazy science that big corporations shut down because they were so busy making money on people not knowing anything. All the really cool far out futuristic science that we all eventually just brushed aside as pipe dreams because anyone who knew anything kept disappearing or dying or something and mainstream media never reported on that kind of stuff...

They kept us stupid. Even the smartest among us are stupid. We think we know stuff, but we barely know half the stuff that died and got buried along with some of the brightest brains on the planet.

Except there are some really bright brains trying their damnedest to share it, and we keep brushing them off.


Tuesday, July 24, 2018

a piece of my life in a drawer

So I'm cleaning out a drawer making more room to share space, pulling my own things back into tighter and tighter concentric circles around me, very physically, a household of personal things being pulled into one room.

I run into notebooks all the time with moments written on them, scratched out in a hurry before I'd forget how I was feeling, before something or someone else could interrupt my thoughts.

There was a year where my world fell apart into 'bubble worlds', and I couldn't tell which one I was in, which one was real. That was the first time I ever said out loud I need help. Some people call it a nervous breakdown, but my psychologist said I was fine and just needed to baby step my way through a monitored hormone crash that lasted for 2 months. My TSH (thyroid) flipped from too low to off the chart too high (hyperthyroid) while I was crashing off of 2 decades of birth control to handle a blood pressure problem. I had 3 doctors and a psychologist watching me, and I was in touch with them in rotation almost daily.

I just found this in a drawer.

Suddenly I felt caught up in a gyro, pitched forward, yawing wildly, a little pebble flung into a pond, the surface rippling apart into worlds of bending light, and no longer could I tell them apart. What was real? Lost in a freefall, I glimpsed a face, grasped a tiny thread almost out of my reach, running through all the worlds and tying them back into one. I nearly let go, fearful that I'd mistaken insanity for hope, but how do I not follow a little boy I never knew to the depths? I had to find where I left him, and perhaps find myself.

I spent a week talking to a young man who was my son. I didn't tell anyone until later that I did that. He was with me in the car and around the house, talking with me, laughing, telling me things like he'd spent his entire life with me. It was so real that I couldn't tell it wasn't real.

I never gave birth to a son. I'd had an abortion.

Ever since that experience, I've had a different view on who we really are, what life is really all about here, and how important it is that we find a way to heal from our fear and anger. Love is very important, and it's never lost. It waits for us. People wait for us. And they are with us while they wait.


undrowning in my own house, or, just eat the cheese already

snips are from cards over the years

Exactly 5 months until Christmas Eve, the biggest holiday of the year that periodically mocks my life. I'm currently 2 days into my 5-day crisis management plan, the crisis being that every day of my life is governed by the continual crises of other people, the management being taking back my house, dagnabit.

For the most part, I am not a materialistic person. I watched confliction pull my mom apart from her own more materialistically oriented family (the kind of quiet wealth where she knew of at least one person a generation back who had a luxuriously golden bathroom, yes, real gold), and although it's nice to have nice things and look nice and be nice people, it's also very disturbing to see how ugly some people can be behind those very nice things.

Sorry if this is hard to read.

When I was a little girl I was told "Pretty is as pretty does", and I grew up noticing how hard people try to hide how ugly they really act when they are trying their best to be pretty people with pretty houses. It made no sense to me that my mom was her ugliest on Sundays, when she was under pressure to get four children to church. Incongruity is one of my favorite words, because I thought about it so much.

Christians being racist make me physically nauseous, thanks to my beautifully ugly grandmother cutting her own son off from her life. I cannot even imagine rejecting my own grandchildren, and would never dream of turning a child of mine away from my house, and that very much includes a step child. She is mine. I raised her, I love her, I will never not care deeply for her and her child. I try to imagine sometimes going back in time and having a discussion with my grandmother, with her at this age I am.


My own life in this house feels like insane hilarity and jocularity in a sort of cosmic joke kind of way, where whenever I even attempt to pretend I come from nice and pretty people, everything around me explodes apart into crisis after crisis until I am so beaten down that simply falling on my face as gracefully as possible for the millionth time is wearing me out badly enough that I can barely function emotionally. I have to switch everything inside of me off to make everything else around me ok, and usually everything around me is so chaotic that all I see is other people flailing through their lives. They may think they're holding it together, but what they're really doing is flailing from one crisis to the next in pretty clothes.

I have very real PTSD over the compulsion to look our best. Both my sisters had eating disorders in high school, I was a chain smoking alcoholic when I looked my prettiest (skinniest), and I know other psychological disorders very well, thanks to extended friends and family with a variety of challenges, so I recognize that my own life is about surviving other people's crises all around me in my own home. I am surviving poor coping skills, a host of displacement behaviors, all kinds of fallout originally intended to fix the happiness factor that can't possibly be maintained, and I'm the one drowning.


I'm drowning in materialism. I'm drowning in things. I'm drowning in products that promise beauty and happiness and better living. My house is so full of junk continually coming into it that I can't walk through a single part of it and not see it. I can't escape it, I can't make it stop, I can't put it anywhere that it will stay. The funniest part is that I'm the one home all day long with all this stuff.

I could be an ugly person and draw big ugly boundaries so that I have a beautiful house, or I can choose to be a pretty person and allow spillways of people I love splashing through my life and have a beautiful home. Because of the emotional traumas I saw and went through growing up, I will never make a material object worth more to me than another person's feelings. I want to be happy to see the faces of the people I love, not angry because they messed up something material.



But I really need my bedroom back. I need to stop feeling like I'm swimming through my own house. I need a safe place to hide. Maybe it's time to make a boundary.

I could go on, but I don't want to be an ugly person. Being walked in on without knocking (not talking about the child) is better than not being spoken to. Sharing space with people is better than being alone.

These are the other people I wish I could see.
It's been years again.

Like I finally said out loud for the first time in my life the other day, though- I've been cleaning up after people since I was seven years old. That's how old I was when I started folding laundry, doing dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, and helping my dad with the chores outside. Come October I will have spent 50 years of my life cleaning up after other people and their animals with no pay or reward back except that I get to live in a house I didn't pay for. My biggest challenge lately is not feeling peevish. I think about all the women all over the world over thousands of years who could probably say the same thing. There is no escape or relief, there is nothing that can ever repay us, and our only reward is seeing our people thrive because we worked so hard behind them.

It's lately come to my attention that I've been keeping up all this time with a bone chip from my thigh bone migrating around the band of tissue holding my knee together. "There is a focal full-thickness chondral defect present involving the central weightbearing portion of the lateral femoral condyle measuring 0.6 x 0.7 cm in the transverse and AP dimensions with a mild degree of underlying reactive edema-like marrow signal abnormality. A similar sized chondral body is present within the lateral compartment adjacent to the posterior aspect of the lateral femoral condyle. Intermediate grade chondromalacia is present involving the patellofemoral compartment with surface irregularity and partial-thickness fissuring."

I went out to pic clover and zucchini for BunBun and felt sorry for the maters.

Basically, I have this one week to rearrange my life so that I will be able to heal comfortably after surgery next month. I have a handful of days to do all the things for myself ahead of time that I know other people won't have the time to do for me later. After that everything will go wildly out of control again while I'm stuck healing, and as soon as I can get around, I will be swimming through more new (and used, thanks Goodwill!) things coming into my home.

I know a few people who will find it alarming that I've started matching up all my novelty sox in desperate effort to feel more organized. Yes, it's that bad.

*sigh*

Hang on, where's my just wonderful song?


Monday, July 23, 2018

the not so secret space program



~Yesterday~

My head is in 50 different places and I haven't really been talking about it all, so maybe I can lay it out here.

So of course it's really interesting listening to the Cosmic Disclosure interviews talking about die glocke around the same time I've been watching scifi written around it on 12 Monkeys (in a blown off way on that episode, until you take the entire season into account). A new space program has been announced, social medias are ramping up the verbal mud flinging around neo Nazi lingo that most people don't understand, and scifi is openly and very brazenly running with the bit mapping out what the hell a psychotic elite wants to do with this level of technology. As you can imagine, I'm loving every bit of it in a multidimensional level kind of way.

I've also this summer been watching myself from several angles while mostly staying mindfully centered (god, how broken am I), and I feel like a more holistic me is waking up to wondering how in the world I stayed really innocent for so long, even in my cynicism, and whether I really am ready yet to keep going forward to more. Psychologically, I love leaping around mountain crags for fun, like a goat maybe, but emotionally I am usually in the ravine far below, a bit of a turtle barely getting around a little ditch. Lately it feels like those extremes are meeting more in the middle, but at the same time it feels like I have everything turned off inside, and I seem to be aware of that, not oblivious to it. I'm in real time, I'm processing and knowing, and the emotional processing lag seems to be abating, but the real time stuff seems way less intense than having to sludge through the lag for some reason. Maybe it's because all that stuff got piled up in the past? I dunno. I do feel better about things in general, way less anxious, and a lot more realistic about what I can handle, so I think my real time is a lot healthier lately.

I finally claimed a webmii account.


Was surprised to see my score back up after a dismal winter, yay.


Right behind you, Lisa!


I know it seems dumb, but that is celebrity status for non celebrities. I'll use Gerald Webb as an example because he's a Snarkalec.


Or like Ellen Dubin because she's from Lexx.


Y'all know Benedict Cumberbatch has it made, thanks to his prolific fandom. I'm really glad he beats out Mark Zuckerberg.


You could play with that all day. Scores go up and down in real time depending on fresh and stable content and whether it's been looked at kind of thing. If you don't work for it yourself, someone else works hard on the webs for you with their content. The single biggest hook is having a unique name, or at least winding up at the top of a common name heap, although that alone won't pull a higher number for you.

Not too shabby.




Sorry, I'm waiting for a plane to land, just filling up my time. I've already reflexively almost knee-jerked into gotta do something for my people mode several times in the last hour and a half. I'm so used to stop, drop, and jumping for other people that this week is going to be an interesting experiment in how well I handle focusing on my own needs and relaxation and creativity and stuffs.

~Today~

Slept good, no weird nightmares, got my coffee, time to get on game. I've been moderating on a game server for a few months, usually in the mornings, and it seems to keep my head focused. I'm able to plan out and execute goals and strategies in game while juggling helping other players problem solve, and that seems to be helping my head relate back to real life. I used to make my lists and stuff. I barely make lists any more, only for big goals and not every little thing. Like this week, I have opportunities galore to do things in this house, so of course I have a list. Wasn't that long ago, couple or three years, my life was falling apart without a daily list. My brain is working so much better now. The change began when I weaned off the major meds and cleared out my head, but the really big change came after the sudden big wheat allergy. Since September 2014 I've not had any wheat at all in any form in my diet. Took a little time, but the fog lifting was almost immediate. The ability to think, read, and write, got easier over time. Add the CPAP last year and my brain took off like a kite. This year I feel like I have a lot of those IQ points back, thinking is way easier now, I'm remembering things better, staying time oriented.

I still have meltdowns here and there, usually med change related, pull me off the med, problem solved. If I'm getting emotional about something that's not my business or doesn't directly concerned me, that's a red flag. I know other people get emotional all the time over whiffs of political breeze, but I don't and never have because I was raised on political and religious debate since I was tiny. I can care deeply about issues and logic circles around people without getting all melty downy about it, so if I'm triggering over something small, time to look around inside and see what's going on that I need to personally deal with.

Was hearing on one of those cosmic disclosure interviews that the reason we aren't contacted and worked with directly already is because humans are way too emotional. We freak out over the tiniest things, we hate first and question later (if at all), we let emotions get in the way of problem solving, we pretty much screw ourselves and our relationships over emotions. That's why MK Ultra works so well with the CIA, they can rearrange braining into shoving emotions over, people get overwhelmingly big jobs done, and then they crack later when it's all over. Same with celebrities. How many of us would be able to work 16+ hour days in all kinds of conditions or live on tour buses for months at a time without cracking wide open? All of that is conditioned 'training'. They don't have to remember how hard it was.

Rebuilding memory after that kind of conditioning is hard. I never had professional conditioning, but to be broken by the broken (deep discussion with my psychologist over a parent being partially conditioned as a child) is probably just as bad, if not worse. The PTSD is real no matter how it's done.

I remember so many times as a child that I felt like a doll. I felt separate from this body. I'd look at my arms in horror and realize I was a trapped in a walking skeleton. Well, that is one of the key symptoms of dissociation. When my own little girl said she felt like a doll when she was young, my radar went full alert. I knew exactly what she meant. She had gone through actual abuse as a baby, and I finally got her away from her dad, but that doesn't fix the past. Subconsciously she will probably always deal with that turned off feeling popping up without warning, even though she seems emotionally very healthy now and handles life amazingly well, far better than I ever did at her age with a child.

Anyway, so if there really is a reveal coming concerning the space program, the toughest reveal will probably be that our own kept us slaves, not them. Well, the global elite seem to think they come from the gods and are natural royalty with bloodlines that must be kept track of, but they use all of us like slaves, caught in a monetary trap that we can never escape from. I've often thought for years how the only way to ever fix this mess the world is in would be to reset it, just dump the entire global digital network and free everyone from debt. Think about it, nearly everything digital is about debt.

What if there really was a way to leap past that into the sort of life that we see on Star Trek? What if the whole global structure could be reorganized so that we ALL get fed, get healthcare, get housing, get education, get good jobs, have nice lives, and none of us are in debt? What if part of the global alliance is about reaching that place?

We'd need to do away with royalty owning countries, world bankers holding the poor hostage, etc. How do you do that without a war? Especially if they own all the guns...

What if a war is going on right now? What if all this stuff I'm hearing is true?

One of the most interesting things I heard was that all this crazy rain was a snapback from the HAARP machines being turned off. I'd like to believe that. Who would be crazy enough to literally hold the earth hostage and force weather patterns to change, right? It can be done, I've looked at some of the science, but who in their right mind would make the world worse over it instead of better???

I need to get back on game, I'm afk over there while I work on paragraphs here. I'm currently mining out a layered road system all through and subdivided plots in a town I'm making. The roads will go down all the way to bedrock. Players will be able to run around the town underground that way, and if they want to continue an underground city and open their plots up down there themselves, that will be fun. Last week I crushed it grinding out a million bucks to pay for an ultra rare winged white ghost lion, which is rideable.

Also have a bigger than usual list to execute this week. I want my bedroom back, lol.


Sunday, July 22, 2018

LNMGang watches Cry of the Werewolf

Note: Look for the #latenightmovie tag on my last pinky blog (those are also pinned and shared to a thread I started awhile back on syfydesigns). This blog added the tag LNMGang to match the name of our twitter group that is run by Lisa Marie Bowman, and I'll copy paste these posts to that syfydesigns thread.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were having a weird night, and for some reason I wasn't as finger happy on the ol' screenshots as usual, but still have a couple overlapping. I felt like the AIs (Caprica and Zoe) had it in for us, but you never can tell with those two.


I honestly thought there would be more real animal scenes in this movie based on this opening sequence.


Werewolves also get to bite people. I think I'd like that.


This guy in this shot reminds me so much of Walter Peck in the first Ghostbusters movie.


Caprica sucking up after missing the question on the test...


Consuela is also a really pretty designer bags and totes site in case you're needing a new purse. Not being paid to link that.


Science Cops #greatbandnames


See? Zoe didn't even answer me. She was pouting.


Can you imagine being able to haunt a door? I would love that.


I didn't mention to anyone that @bonenado made a voodoo doll one year to torture a guy on his fantasy baseball team, and it really did rattle him. The stories are hilarious.


I have never fixed that movie link myself. I really should step up a little more. I'm terribly lazy on movie nights.


I'm not even a very good administrative assistant. I should endeavor harder.


I could give op to people, stuff like that.


The cat was the best actor in the entire movie.


Science cops and their kids, new show idea.


Kurt is talking about this song. Here is their site.


Kurt knows so much stuff, he's like an alt Lisa... hm, just noticed that. Wonder if they're twins or something.


I, on the other hand, own an almost complete Jacky Chan collection. I have most of the old stuff from video stores going out of business.


Werechickens should be a thing.


This movie didn't do girl fights right.


I could be inviting like that as a haunted door. I think I have what it takes.


Bob. Srsly, never heard it said that way before.


No one got my Eunichorn thing. We were all floating on our own moments, sharing spacetime in a weird nondimensional ethereal way.


It just hit me that a dentist would be a werewolf's worst nightmare.


Love never conquers all.


I know right, you'd think there'd be better scenes to go along with our chat, but the cops are just standing around looking confused here.


lol, right, what happened to the cat...


@LNMGang watches This Island Earth

Note: On my last pinky blog I had a tag for #latenightmovie (those are also pinned), but there is also a thread I started awhile back on syfydesigns. I'll keep pinning, but also add the tag LNMGang on this pinky blog to match the name of our twitter group that is run by Lisa Marie Bowman, and I'll copy paste these posts to the syfydesigns thread. This is about as organized as I get. Only took me 5 1/2 years to develop this system. 🙄 Since I wind up with overages on my finger-happy screenshotting, it might get weird sometimes. I might have tried to go back and get a particular movie shot for some reason, which would make the chat look out of order. I get dizzy enough sizing all these down to 800, which seems to work well across lappy and mobile between blogger and syfydesigns since this is getting pasted. I do get readers on humongous gaming screens, thank you for how fun that looks in my stats and apologies if it's hard to read that way. One day interface will be easier, if our world grids don't go down over something stupid first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On to the show! Got it down to 35 screenshots, lol.