Dead links abound!

I just took a scroll through the older TS2-related posts, and realized I need to fix the links on nearly every pic and video. Some videos even need to be reuploaded.

I will procrastinate on this as long as I deem necessary.

Until then, most videos can be found on my YouTube channel.

(Edited weeks later to change "TS1" to "TS2". Hole E Cow.)

When You're Not Normal Enough

This afternoon, while stuck in the click-bait quagmire of trash sites, I landed on an article about Trisha Paytas and her online "stalker", Daniel Carroll. Until two hours ago, I had no idea these people existed (though I vaguely recall that My Strange Addiction episode). Because of my own experiences with cyberstalking, I was interested to hear the story. After watching Trisha's side of the story, I fully expected to be disturbed when I hit "play" on Daniel's video response. I WAS disturbed. Because when I watched his video I saw... an older version of my son.

My son has what was called Aspergers Syndrome, but is now referred to as HFA (High Functioning Autism) by the DSM V. For most HFA people on the spectrum, nothing outwardly remarkable distinguishes them from the rest of us. My son looks like a regular kid. He's friendly, outgoing, and good-looking. He's also got a lot of quirks that eventually clue people in that he's "different".

Only recently has he discovered Facebook and online friendships. Only recently has he tried to reach out to girls he's had crushes on. And only recently has he had his heart broken. We all go through that, but most of us don't face such extreme social challenges to get there, in the first place. To the girls he tries so hard to impress, those quirks seem weird. His attention isn't flattering or cute, it's creepy. People don't like "different". "Different" is scary, threatening, unknown. Assumptions are quickly and unfairly made about those who don't fit our comfortable and safe definition of "normal".

My son handed over his laptop to me a month or so ago, saying he didn't trust himself not to lash out at this most recent girl, his most serious crush, who I will call "Lisa" for purposes of this blog entry. He told me to read his messages. He was ashamed of himself. He said I probably wouldn't like what I saw.

Fearing the worst, I opened his account and saw that for months my son had been awkwardly, yet gallantly, trying to win this girl over. He wrote her that he wanted to be a jedi knight so he could fight for her honor. He told her she has the prettiest eyes. He talked about his favorite tv shows: Rocky and Bullwinkle, Puffy Amiyumi. He talked about Star Wars. A LOT. Then he'd tell her again he wanted to be her boyfriend.

Lisa was not responding much, as the months went by. Stepping back, I can see how his child-like attempts to woo her were a little odd, so I can't say I blame her. Luckily, he and Lisa had grown up together, so she knew him and was familiar with autism. But we moved, and they haven't seen each other in years. They grew up.

Reading through their conversation, I could tell Lisa was increasingly unsure how to respond to his messages, and it probably did scare her a little, though she is too polite to admit that. My son was jealous. Lisa had a boyfriend. He couldn't handle this new set of emotions, so he became angry. He wrote her lines of heated script he'd heard from movies, tv shows, and friends, not really understanding what they meant, only that they would get a reaction. He had no idea how lucky he was that Lisa's family knew him, and the only "reaction" he'd get would be a stern talking-to, and not a swift kick in the ass by an angry boyfriend, or, worse, legal ramifications. I explained this to him, and his eyes widened. I said, "You didn't know that could happen, did you?". He shook his head, "I do, now!".

I spoke to Lisa and her mother (who is my best friend), and they were both very understanding. They were used to the little boy they knew, not the young man he is, now. But it's easy to forget that his mindset much closer to that of a child. In his innocence, life is a cartoon. Things will always work out in the end. The things he said were no worse than pulling a little girl's pigtails in the schoolyard. It's a hard lesson to learn that society, the law, even those of us who should know better, see it much, much differently.

When my son handed over his laptop, he did so out of self-punishment. He's a good kid with a conscience. He knew what he did was not right, but did not know the extent of its wrongness. He felt guilt. He felt remorse. He already is prone to feel shame he doesn't deserve, so he was emotionally beaten down. He needed to get "caught", because this was scary new territory. Since Lisa refused to "rat him out" to me after repeated attempts to force her to do so, he ratted himself out to me. He didn't want to be alone and unguided. He needed to feel safe, again. Safe from the ones who were afraid of him.

And that brings me back to Daniel and Trisha.

Daniel Carroll's video was the harder of the two to watch. His world has been flipped upside down because of one woman's misguided accusations being broadcast to her 2+ million followers. It's maddening to think that somebody would be so quick to jump to conclusions,  so willing to put another human being through such hell. What sickens me, and what sets this case apart from my son's, is that this may not be as simple as a lack of understanding. After a little research, Trisha Paytas's story seems to be a calculated attempt to take advantage of her viewers' naïveté, for personal gain. Whether it's to gain more viewers, or to take the spotlight off of herself after making a video proclaiming her support of a certain presidential candidate backfired and didn't sit right with her viewers... I don't know. What I do know is that she is receiving considerable backlash after declaring Mr. Carroll her "stalker", as evidenced by the number of video responses defending him on Youtube, and in the comments sections of online articles. Thanks to the vocal minority, perhaps there's a silver lining, after all? I hope Daniel Carroll can find some solace in that.

I'll close out, now, on a more uplifting note: Ms. Paytas clearly misjudged her audience. And I've made a lot of sweeping assumptions of my own, in this entry. I would love to be wrong.

To those speaking out in defense of Daniel Carroll:

Keep talking.

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

Today I enabled Text to Speech on my Galaxy s3 just to see how TTS worked.

Now I can't turn it off.

My phone has been taken over by a lady bot on a power trip.

Now I can't scroll. I can't reach Hangs* Free Mode. (*Typo; keeping it)

I was finally granted permission to get to "Googly", as "she" pronounced it, but not without a lot of effort, screaming, and launching the phone on a quick trip across the room.  Round trip.

Once on Googly, I was allowed to type (as she read along) "text to speech disable gluxy s3". I was allowed to fix typo. However, without the ability to scroll, I couldn't see past the first few search results. Clicked one link that seemed promising, but - right; I can't scroll down web pages, either. I'm only able to "hear" the first paragraph of any "how to" tutorial page, replete with bizarre pronunciations. She repeated it over and over and over every time I desperately tried to swipe back.

I tried muting it (her?) because AAAGH and it slowly announced, "volume.changed.to.twenty.percent". That's as low as I could get it.

I should have made that left toin at albukoikee.

Hey, Apple: "This is SO GOING IN MY BLOG!!!!!" - Barney Stinson

This isn't funny, Apple. Not funny at all. I've been an Apple Apologist for years, now, but no more, since they could have damn well KILLED ME.

So, my 2007 MacBook Pro's 85W power adapter (original) started burning and spraying heavy blue and orange sparks last night where the cord had pulled apart, exposing wires at the point of connection; this is the part that was on the floor, so not something I would have noticed, had it not been for the magnet end charge light acting up. Cord was not frayed at that end, so I checked out the other end and saw what was going on. I unplugged it before it could catch fire, pretty freaked out, and bummed that I was going to have to spend $79 for a new power supply.

I was googling today for a replacement and saw there was a recall and a class action lawsuit on my model for this very reason - cords fraying due to stress, causing a fire hazard. The deadline for replacement was July 2013. According to the website, Apple is under no obligation to replace after this date. Here's the cool part: I DID NOT RECEIVE ANY NOTICE OF THIS RECALL. My brother's 2009 MBP 85W power supply was also included in the recall, and he wasn't notified, either...until I told him about an hour ago. Going to Genius Bar to try my luck.

These things were catching fire, and I had no notice?! I am pretty damn pissed off.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Evil

In the last 15 hours, I looked temptation directly in the eyes and walked away. TWICE.

Short version 

I'm on a diet. I have PMS. Late last night I craved something sweet, but it had to be healthy. There was a piece of cake. There is STILL a piece of cake, but now there is one less container of yogurt in the fridge. Can I have a *cookie?

*No I cannot have a cookie.

The ridiculously dramatic unabridged version 

I want to lose a few pounds, so I am eating super healthy. But I have PMS, which ups the challenge. (Ladies, you know what I mean: "I must have chocolate, or I'll go murderous!!!"). I am also on day 3 of a modified version of the 4-day Quick-Start Sassy Water diet. One frustrating side effect of lemon water (and Sassy has a lot of lemons) is the fact that your stomach is literally growling minutes after eating. True story. I googled it.

Unlike cravings, many people feel physical hunger when they decide to embark on a lemon cleanse. People experiencing hunger should drink another glass of the lemon beverage to decrease feelings of hunger.

Last night I was craving AND hungry for something sweet. I was nervous. I had a couple things working against me: PMS and a growling stomach. Could I handle this? I had to. I had no choice.

Downstairs in the kitchen, I opened the freezer to see if there was anything in there that was healthy but would also cure my sweet tooth. I was not prepared for what I found. Inches from my face, sitting on top of a box of Special K Flatbread breakfast sandwiches - which I have been eating for breakfast - was a huge piece of cake. No attempt had been made to conceal it. Not even Saran Wrap.

My knee-jerk reaction was "OMG, CAKE!!!!!" and a happy dance. I stopped dancing. I would have to log this in the My Fitness Pal app, and I only have 400 calories to fill to reach my quota. I was already in the red for sugar by 3g (from a V8?! Wow, I coulda had a chocolate!). And this was a BIG piece of cake. Sure, I could cut it in half, but *HAHAHAHAHA!

*PMS 

This piece of cake was beautiful. Innocent-looking with its playful sprinkles, and sweetly seductive; this was no box cake, this was BAKERY CAKE. And it was already wearing me down with its boldness. I took it out of the freezer and looked at it. It had vanilla and chocolate cake layers. It had been professionally frosted. I felt my willpower slipping away, and... I touched it. Just a little, not enough to even make an imprint on the frosting.

Then I smelled it. I lost it. I was now trying to rationalize going for it. I thought, "It's just going to be a one night thing. The app doesn't have to know. Besides, I feel so unfulfilled. I'm constantly hungry!". And to make things worse, every night the app would berate me for not taking in enough calories. Well, this certainly would take care of that, wouldn't it? So, if I look at it that way, I was pushed into doing this!

Still, I knew afterwards I'd feel nothing but guilt and shame. How could I live with myself? How would I face the app? I couldn't keep this from it, and I'm a terrible liar! If I confessed all the sordid details into the app's "Add Snack" field, it would most certainly kill it. Not only would I be guilty of cheating, I'd be guilty of killing an innocent app that was only trying to help. I would be a horrible person.

Once I realized this was not something I could do, that there was just too much at stake for 5 minutes of pleasure (not to mention the possibility I could get heartburn), I put the cake back in the freezer and closed the door.

I looked around for something else. Something told me I wasn't safe, yet, not even close. There was something sinister lurking. I suddenly found myself dangerously close to crossing over to the Dark Side. We had cookies. BAKERY COOKIES.

Now I was just plain pissed off. I opened up the fridge, pulled out a container of yogurt, and mixed in some Kashi cereal. I had won the battle.

This morning, I had to go back to war. I had to summon all my strength before heading downstairs, because, dammit, my stomach was growling again.

In order to get to the breakfast sandwiches, I'd have to confront the cake, again. To get through, I'd have to move quickly. Pick up the cake, grab the sandwich, throw the cake back, and get the hell out. Then I had to get past the cookies to cook it.

My God, this was Scylla and Charybdis!!!!!!

I took a deep breath and went in. Surprisingly, I got the sandwich out without a problem on the first try. But as I walked to the microwave, I could hear the Sirens' call. I ignored them as best as I could. "I am not going to be lured in, sugar.".

Ninety agonizing seconds later, the microwave finally beeped, I pulled out the sandwich, and teleported upstairs; I couldn't eat that close to enemy territory.

Another battle won, but I can't be smug. The war has just begun.

Twelve Years

Twelve years ago today, I received a call from my then-husband from work, telling me to turn on the TV. I was in our bedroom. "Which channel?", I asked.

"ANY channel!".

An airliner had just crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. I was standing in our bedroom in front of the TV, unable to move, watching the aftermath, the reporters, the "breaking news" alerts scrolling across the screen, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened. Just minutes later, a second plane flew into the South Tower.

I picked up the phone and called my friend Dana, who lived a few houses down. Her TV was off, and her day was still normal. We spent the next few hours in her living room glued to her TV, terrified, as news broke of a third plane hitting the Pentagon, and then a fourth in Pennsylvania. It was now being declared a terrorist attack. Rumors were running wild as possible targets were named for more attacks, Atlanta among them. 

Dana and I drove out to the elementary school and pulled our kids out early. We did not know what to tell them when they asked why. They were so young. James was only 6 years old. 

Twelve years ago, to this minute as I write, our country was under attack, and it was all playing out on television: we saw the second plane flying into the building, people jumping out of windows. The South Tower collapsing. The North Tower collapsing. Businessmen in suits and women in heels screaming and running from a huge cloud of smoke and ash that was quickly spreading over the streets. And we felt helpless.

In the days and weeks that followed we began to hear the stories. They were tragic. Heroic. Unfathomable. It was a strange time. Our country was literally being torn apart, but its people were tightly, emotionally bonded. We were scared, we were sad, and we were angry,  but through it all we stood together. This was our home. Patriotism was everywhere. We hung our flags. We displayed stickers of the American flag on our car windows. We wore T-shirts with a picture of determination and courage: three firemen raising a flag against a backdrop of devastation. The Phoenix rising from the flame. Political differences were cast aside because we focused on what we shared: respect. And we all vowed to "never forget".

On the first anniversary of the attacks, Dana and I were in Kohl's doing some shopping. We checked our watches so we knew when to have the moment of silence. A voice came over the PA system announcing it was time. Everybody in the store stopped what they were doing. Nobody said a word. Nobody moved. It was still fresh in our minds; we still remembered. 

Twelve years later, most of us have forgotten. We "remember" for one day out of the year, if we remember to check the date. During moments of silence,  we watch the time on our cellphones so we know when we can get back to our day. That is, if we observe it at all.

The families of the victims, those directly impacted by the tragedy, do not have this luxury. They do not have to check the calendar. They are not arguing conspiracy theories on Facebook today. But most of the rest of us have forgotten their names. We remember "That guy who said 'Let's roll'.". "Those people who stormed the cockpit.". We have forgotten what we meant when we promised to "Never forget".

I am not able to throw stones. I am guilty of this complacency. I had to google a timeline of events just to write this post, and I'm ashamed. So today I am reading stories of the names I'd forgotten. It's unfair to expect people to memorize a long list of names to recite 365 days a year. I am terrible with names. Is it unfair to hope people will take the time to read the stories and what our country suffered on a day other than September 11th, though?

I am alone in my room, but I am mindful of the time so I can stop typing during the moments of silence. I am forcing myself to recall all the details of that day, all the emotions I felt. It turns out I remember it very well, and it's hard to face it, again. At the same time, it's strangely cathartic. 

I found this video this morning; it's of a phone call I'd never heard before. A voice from within one of the towers to a 911 operator. There aren't any graphic images, but the end of the video has me shaken like nothing has since 2001.

But I needed to be shaken.

Pomplamoose, You'll Be Okay

Just created a new Wordpress account this afternoon to leave a comment on Pomplamoose's Nataly Dawn's blog entry, Is Pomplamoose Really Okay?, but ended up writing a novel. Two hours into it, I decided to post this on my own blog as a response, to save all the "tl;dr"-ers the trouble of scrolling. And now I have a shiny new Wordpress profile to fill out... Yeah, I'llgetrightonthat.

First, some links:
Pomplamoose official site
Nataly's blog
Nataly Dawn on YouTube
Jack Conte on YouTube

[Edit before publishing: this entry took me 5 hours to write. I gave up on the iPad, got on my laptop, typed another two hours, accidentally closed the window without saving (why didn't autosave kick in?!), rewrote everything I had written those two lost hours - saving after every other word - one Firefox crash, and a headache.]

Here's a much more fleshed-out, modified version of what I was going to post on Nataly's blog:

BEGIN

Nataly, I don't know if you have the time to read all the comments on your post, but I hope you do. There's some great encouragement and advice given. I echo all who say "Be who you are." Be POMPLAMOOSE. Don't define Pomplamoose from outside pressures; you and Jack (Conte) keep your hands on the wheel, and write that definition, yourselves. (m'kay, think I'm mixing metaphors?). Stay. In.Control. Pomplamoose will evolve, experiment, change over time. It's natural. It's growth. But there's something inherently unique in Pomplamoose, and in yours and Jack's solo work; something that can't be taken away. There are no degrees of uniqueness; you either are or you aren't. And Pomplamoose IS.

 I have never been in a situation like yours to this extent - not even close - but I can think of some great bands and musicians that lost themselves after they became commercialized, and they began to cater to the "mainstream" audience. Their music became a product; something merely bought and sold.

(Here's the part where I go on and on about another group for illustrative purposes. But bear with me. It's relevant, I swear!)

While reading your post, I thought about REM, who recently split up. (I'm a huge fan, and I must preface this by saying that much of this is based on opinion. Mine.)

REM put out some great albums for over 31 years, and kept their unique signature sound (yes, they had "it", too), throughout. Peter Buck described R.E.M. songs as, "Minor key, mid-tempo, enigmatic, semi-folk-rock-balladish things. That's what everyone thinks and to a certain degree, that's true." They kept their "sound" even while changing up the style for a few albums. Out Of Time has a very "pop" feel. It wasn't the indie-band (my description) style of Murmur and most subsequent albums. Monster was, according to Peter Buck "a 'rock' record, with the rock in quotation marks." I'm going to further describe it with Wikipedia's words, because I thought it was a cool and apt description: "In contrast to the sound of its predecessors, the music of Monster consisted of distorted guitar tones, minimal overdubs, and touches of 1970s glam rock"

By the end of their 31-year career, things were starting to seem watered down and uninspired. Tired. Around the Sun was not Murmur, not Document, not Green, not Automatic for the People. It was just... off. Critic's reviews were so-so, at best. Following this disappointment, the band felt pressured to put out a new album. Much of the pressure was internal. Mike Mills explained, "We needed to prove, not only to our fans and critics, but to ourselves, that we could still make great records." .

Here's my take on what happened with REM. I'm wondering if this is this what you're worried will happen with Pomplamoose, Nataly? It won't. There's no doubt in my mind great opportunities lie ahead for you.

"All things must end, and we wanted to do it right, to do it our way." -Michael Stipe

In 1987, the first single off Document, "The One I Love", was topping the charts and on heavy rotation on Top 40 pop radio stations. REM was now an "Alternative" band with a cult following that had caught a mainstream, pop audience's attention. And the crossover began. "It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)", "Stand", "Losing My Religion" were hits. REM had gained a whole new fan base. And the pressure was on to put out more hits, catering to a Top 40 pop-hungry audience.

REM found the balance to satisfy both long-time fans, and newer ones. They went on for over 20 more years trying to maintain that balance. Music fads are constantly changing, vocals are now processed through autotune, thus eliminating the need for a singer to even be able to carry a tune. Lyrics are often empty and indistinguishable from one song to the next. The charts are dominated by songs and groups that are carbon copies of each other. These songs are the "products"; the fans, the "consumers". The singers and bands are attractively packaged to ensure the sale. Cha-ching!

REM was not "processed" into something marketable. They were marketable and organic. What you heard in the studio tracks will be different than what you will hear, live. There would be no lip syncing, no autotune. But they had to fight hard to remain relevant in the pop scene; a world where they never really aspired to visit in the first place. It must have been emotionally, mentally and creatively draining. And something was going to give way, eventually.

"We didn't set out for this to be a career. We just knew it was something we wanted to do, and we would stop when we didn't want to do it, anymore." - Michael Stipe

When Warner Bros began to gain more power over the band, REM collectively "didn't want to do it, anymore."

REM was a quirky band. Michael Stipe is not a great singer. He does not have much range, vocally (I think in "Losing My Religion" he sings 4 notes through the entire song.). But it worked. Stipe's dancing was manic, with his arms flailing everywhere, he would mumble lyrics that were often unintelligible and sometimes intentionally nonsensical; I remember hearing that he wrote "It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)" after a dream, in which all the characters had the initials LB. Stipe, himself, admitted, "You all know there aren't words, per se, to a lot of the early stuff. I can't even remember them.". But... it worked. It was a strange formula, but it set them apart, from the start of their career to the end.

Even when they were at the height of their success, REM played in bars in their adopted home town of Athens, GA under an assumed name. I guess it was their way to escape the craziness of fame, celebrity branding, and to hold on to that "college band" feel and mentality. No screaming mob of crazed fans, because people wouldn't know that the "garage band" they thought they were going to see was actually REM! I have friends who went to UGA and saw a surprise REM performance at bars and clubs in the area. The band members were able to freely walk about town, go to the old pizza place, undisturbed. They were back "home".

My point in that long-winded pseudo-biography of REM is what so many others, including yourself, have said. Don't write because you have to. Don't write for your audience. Write for YOU. If it's not a hit, who cares? Not every song on every EP will be a hit, not every EP be a hit. As long as YOU have the satisfaction of having created something for yourselves, then you're giving a gift to yourselves with each song you've produced. Accept that there will be ups and downs, successes and failures (in others' eyes, maybe, but don't ever be a failure to yourselves). Remember why you started in the first place: the music. The commercials, stuff like that...gravy.

Take a step back when you are able. Stay close to those who really know you, long time friends, family, to keep perspective. Go "home". Play a gig in a small bar under an alias, just to remind yourself of the joy of performing your music without the pressure of audience expectations. Do not feel ever feel you must fit into someone else's mold. You will find that balance. That song inside of you screaming to be released will come out on its own timeline; creativity can't be forced. But that song is YOURS. The fans, including myself, are grateful that you are sharing something so personal.

Keep the quirks, and keep the toy piano. You'll be okay.

Sources for this blog post are Wikipedia, Rolling Stone magazine, and my brain.

Getting Behind the Wheel

New video. Song is "Drive" by Incubus. Edit May 23, 2012: I have one version that I uploaded on my YouTube channel back in December, but this is cleaned up and much smoother. :

"Whatever tomorrow brings, I will be there, with open arms and open eyes."

This comes from a personal place.

Vulture Kitteh

It's a stare down. Neither has moved in an hour.

Contender 1: "Cricket" the gecko:



Contender 2: "Chip" the cat:



"It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time." - W. Somerset Maugham



Had to be done.

DAMN YOU AUTO CORRECT!!!

This was too insanely funny not to share. Background: Last night I had been texting with two friends and making the most insane typos. Much of what I wrote was gibberish. At the time, I blamed it on the 3 glasses of wine I had with my Dad (call it a pre-surgery "celebration") - even though I was simultaneously posting on Facebook from my laptop just fine. (Yeah, had some time on my hands last night...)

This morning I discovered the REAL reason why my iphone's autocorrect was acting so obnoxiously.

Notice anything unusual, here? (Hint: I speak ENGLISH)



That little globe thing next to the space (espacio) bar switches the keyboard to spanish. How I did not notice this last night, I do not know. So, basically, my iphone was autocorrecting my english as spanish. But remember, I did not know this at the time.


So, here we go! Text convo screenshots, and the corresponding FB posts! (All real names have been edited)

Here's convo #1. Immy thought I was hammered, and I couldn't explain I wasn't! My phone was outta control!













Here's the conversation going on over on Facebook at the same time as the texting. Immy thought I was just making typos because of the wine! Nooooooo...







Immy went to sleep because, at 22, he's apparently become "old and prudish". So my aussie "Female Friend" and I got vabbly. "Vabbling" is a term my forum members came up for my chatty moments. Val + babbling. Get it?

"Female Friend" and I decided to have some fun with it, and just let the auto-correct do its job, without us correcting it back. I still didn't realize mine was in Spanish. As should be expected by now (see VRevis: Pornographer), my entrance was a memorable one. Kramer the "Assman" ain't got nothin' on me! [/Seinfeld reference] (Ha - blogspot reads html ">" as actual html...really? Seinfeld reference is an html command??) So while I spoke spanish gibberish throughout the conversation, my "Female Friend" posted random whacked-out fortune-cookie-type stuff.




























(To explain that last bit with the picture of my sheet, I accidentally took a pic of my sheet, somehow got stuck in MMS mode, and couldn't get back to the regular conversation. The only way I could get back was to send her the pic, which was very random of me, yes?)

The Facebook threads follow us along.













"I meef a translatoe!"

THE END. (...or is it? )

Contact via email

I just realized tonight that my contact information on acuppajoe.net had an expired email account as my contact address. I have now reactivated that account, so your messages from the site should get through. I have also added another email address which will go to my main email account.

You can contact me at

acuppajoe@fastmail.us

OR

acuppajoe_admin@fastmail.us

My apologies for any inconvenience.

Also, registration for the CJ forum has been reopened! Membership is by approval only.

Sooooo...

I finally start playing and working with TS3, and discover I need to upgrade my RAM, because of random crashes due to "insufficient memory". Jeez. Luckily it's cheap to do so, but still, the system requirements of this game are ridiculous! I'm almost tempted to reinstall it on OS X because Windows is teh suxxorz, but then I saw the problems people were having with a Mac install. I guess I'll stick with the lesser of two evils and go with the RAM upgrade. Either way, it's unavoidable. I need MORE POWER. Without it, future EPs and videos will probably fry my logicboard. Been there, done that... under warranty. Applecare has officially expired. You see why the panic? (Oh yeah, I'm panicking. And I forgot how to spell "panicking". Spellcheck got me the first time. Ha - apparently "spell check" is two words. Got me again!)

For those who ask (and I get this a lot), "Why oh whyyyyyyy do you use Windows on a Mac?!": SHUDDUP.

(Seriously, it's because buying all my software for Mac would be about as much as buying a brand new MBP. So bootcamp it is! I use OS X for my general cyber needs.)

Frustrated, just venting. Wanna play. Can't. Waah.

In other news, I'm a first time aunt! My brother's wife had a baby girl on May 9. My niece is adorable. I'd show you pics, but

Just imagine a reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally cute baby with LOTS of black hair! <3

~QG

And Another One!

I did not plan to do another video so soon, but somehow did...

My first "full" Sims 3 machinima. Hope you enjoy!

I'm back!

Hey all! I finally bit the bullet and did my first video using TS3. Of course, there's a twist... isn't there always? :-)



If this is blocked in your country, here's the Vimeo link:

Bonzo's Montreux from VRevis on Vimeo.

Noo YooToob Channel!

So, I haven't done anything Sims-related in almost a year, but I HAVE been posting videos of my two cats on my VRevis channel. Back in November I opened a new channel, but just started setting things up in earnest a couple days ago.

If you're a cat lover and/or are into lol-cat-type humor, this is for you!

http://www.youtube.com/CaliAndChip

Here's a sample of what's to come. I'm using the YouTube annotations for now, but plan on making these a bit more "professional" looking in my external editor for future videos.



Happy New Year, everyone!

~VR

Hey, a hit's a hit, right?

No news to report. Getting ready for the holidays, kind of in a panic about that...

Just for fun, I thought I'd post the search-engine queries leading to this blog in the last week. Kinda got a kick out of it, tonight. Because of my 2007 post  Upskirt vs. Accidental Nudity, in which I posted about some of the strange places some of my videos have been spotted, I'm still getting hits from folks into... wait for it...upskirt viewing! (those clips have been deleted from my YouTube account, for TOS violation. No, really. I'm serious. Click the link to "I'm a Celebrity! Get Me Out of Here!" on that entry and see!)

No worries, no revealing info is shown in the screenshot, but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!

So, since November 12, I've gotten 7 searches for upskirt stuff (guy from Yahoo was REALLY excited typing in all caps!) and a search for a Sims 2 middle finger pose (is there one?), along with a couple searches for my ol' buddy at EA Customer Service, Charles N, (which takes you to the blog entry that was months in the making), a search for Creator's Camp stuff, registration problems with EA, and a couple hits for roof repair.  Eh, throw in a couple of searches for this blog for color.

Why not.

Yer killin' me, folks! But thanks for the reminder to never wear a skirt in public.

With that, I'm off to procrastinate. I've been putting that off for a while.

U.S. folks, have a happy Thanksgiving!

~VR

P.S. Blogger.com Support, it's a real pain in the ass having to keep signing in just to make a quick edit.

And now for something completely different

I spent yesterday assembling a cat tree from Armarkat. It's about a foot and a half taller than I am. That was fun! <---That was sarcasm! Nah, it wasn't too bad. Aside from cat toys that are, in the fine print, "not safe for use as a toy", and a typo in the assembly instructions with one of the bolts on the hiiiiiiiiighest platform...I figgered it out! I iz intellugunt dat wey.

I now have two cats. Cali is adjusting ("little brother syndrome").If you go to my YouTube account and click "date added", you'll see a few videos with Chip, the newest member of my kitteh fambly. He kinda named himself after my beloved siamese-mix, Chip, who passed away in 2006. Chip Jr. is also a siamese mix, and would make his namesake proud.

Edit to correct post: So used to having YouTube links automatically embed on my forum and others, I forgot that I need to actually get the embed code for blogger. Oops!

Edit 2: What is up with Blogger insisting I sign in, repeatedly? That's annoying. Get on that, Blogger, puhleeze.

5 facts, dammit!

Where have I been? vlog 2

Update

Hi all

I know I started off with a bang, earlier this year, with the Examiner articles. I will be getting back to that, but am taking time away for personal reasons. I'm hoping it won't be too long.

And, though I can't publicly post what is going on on this blog, I will ask that you please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers. This has been a very rough situation that has us emotionally and physically drained. And I don't know when things will calm down. We're dealing with a lot of red tape.

Thank you to all who have been my friends through this. You've all been a great source of strength.

I hope to be back soon.

~V