9/18/07
spot proofreads my stuff
Spot likes my game ideas and she proofreads them to ensure a high level of quality. Fortunately this image has been resampled so the text in the notebook is illegible. Shit, I even sharpened and dicked with contrast and edge tools with Paint Shop Pro to see if anyone would be able to tweak it so my AMAZING QUICKIE DND IDEA could be spoiled but I wasn't able to do it.

Of course I am a bear of very little brain and most likely can be outwitted by my college educated peers. This is under the assumption they would be interested in such nonsense. The game system would be Risus.

speaking of games
I've stumbled upon a lot of free, tiny roleplaying games that are akin to Dead Meat: Ultima Carneficina Dello Zombie! Right now I've been told in no uncertain terms that interest in such shenanigans is at a serious ebb. Of course this does trouble me. Why is it that Dead Meat was cool, with its premade characters, while the others aren't cool? I'm trying hard not to take it personally.

There, I said it. Sad that I brought it up here at heptapod.org rather than having the balls to confront folks face-to-face but since I've found out some stuff via email or second-hand that tempers my self-hatred.

bah
Plus I can't help but continue thinking that any time I broach the subject of games, any non-vidya games, I'm just digging my own grave and coming across as Someone Who Just Doesn't Get The Fucking Hint. My site, I can vent. Hundred and fifteen bucks a year entitles me to that.
monday morning
My cold woke me up at quarter to seven much to my chagrin. As I used the toilet I was disappointed because I couldn't remember any dreams from my sleep. Most of my day was spent in a drug-induced haze from the stuff in the generic dayquil, the year-old sudafed equivalent but I worked much slower to avoid errors. All day I had Strawberry Fields Forever running through my head and caught myself singing it on the phone while waiting on hold or when the customer had to fetch something.

It rained during lunch so I sat in my usual spot from break time where I realized that I did have a dream. Yep, a real honest to goodness dream. Nothing big, hardly groundbreaking but still a dream.

seven a.m.
My shift at work has changed from eight - five to seven - four because work is still fucking slow. This means I'll be missing one less hour than working my regular shift.

I'm pleased because I'm allowed to keep my regular schedule of breaks and lunch. My concern lay in an announcement that everyone who works seven to four must take lunch at 11 a.m.. This is important because having a late lunch means the rest of the day flies by and I'm less cranky.

I've been told that once work picks up again, I'll be back on eight to five and I'm going to hold them to that. In the meantime I'll milk this to use the extra time for my own personal ends.

tuesday
in your dreams
I had a brand new black pullover hoodie sweatshirt. Unfortunately it wouldn't fit me. When I checked the label I saw that it was 3XL LT, the size I prefer because it prevents unsightly plumber's crack, but this sweatshirt would not go below my navel. Even when I sucked in my gut and yanked hard the sweatshirt was still too short.
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