Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Cardboard Cutouts are EVIL.

In the office that my boyfriend and I are working in right now (I'm acting as secretary/graphics designer, it's not so much a job as it is a semi-volunteer thing I was asked to do and I get about fifty dollars a week for babysitting the office, making a few calls and dealing with anyone that comes in, cleaning and organizing all the furniture and whatnot-Boyfriend is only here because otherwise I'd be here all alone and this is a really bad part of town, so it wouldn't be a good idea for a very tiny young girl to be here all by herself, so he comes with his well-over-six-foot-tall-built-like-a-viking self to act as watchdog, and he does his work from here on his computer) there was a lot of stuff brought in that is going to be auctioned off, one of those items being a life-size cardboard cutout of George W. Bush. I wasn't here when all the stuff was brought in (I was helping Zack's mom clean house and prepare for a meeting) so I had no knowledge of this. Zack, being evil, decided to hide it in one of the tiny, dark little closets that we have here.

 When we arrived the day after, he acted concerned, saying that things had been moved from where they previously were and he was worried that there might have been a break-in, and we should make sure no one was still here. I was vaguely suspicious when he, being the very protective type, sent me to check some of the rooms by myself while he checked the kitchenette, but I was nervous and paranoid so I did it anyway. We hadn't turned on the rest of the lights yet, so upon opening the closet door, all I could make out was a very tall humanoid shape (the thing is taller than Zack, and I'm only barely chest-high to him) looming right in the opening of the door. I managed not to scream, but I did jump back with an appropriately startled expression. Zack found this hilarious and laughed his head off, whereupon I exacted my revenge by pouncing on him and snapping like an angry chihuahua. He managed to avoid teeth by virtue of being bigger than me. I tried to get vengeance by setting it right in front of his office door silently (he keeps his door closed and locked at all times) positioned so it would be RIGHT THERE when he opened the door. I eagerly awaited his startled gasp or maybe even a shriek, but when the door opened he simply stated "Well hello, Mr. Bush." moved the thing aside and emerged, grinning triumphantly at me.

This had to be remedied.

It ended up being placed in the dark room right behind Zack's office, at the end of the hall, in front of the open doorway so I could easily glance down the hall from my door and make sure it was still there-never know when those things can wander off on their own you know. I knew that Zack had been watching a lot of Dr. Who lately, and he'd been particularly enamored by the Weeping Angels. Zack had shut the door to the room the cutout was in, since I had freaked out upon entering the hallway and seeing it in the doorway even though I already knew it was there (something that had him howling with laughter for AGES, and I'm pretty sure he terrified the neighbors, what with hysterical male laughter being heard only moments after a horrified female shriek) because it's just that creepy looking. To illustrate how it all happened, and what happened next, you need to know how the office is laid out. Here's a rough approximation of it:

Zack had hidden it in the Closet of Evil at first. In order to keep it within eyeshot, at least from the hallway, I put it in the smaller unused office thingy. This was a mistake.

I emerged from the kitchen, having been doing something there-probably cleaning up or whatever, I forget exactly what...sometimes I just wander around blindly with no idea what the heck I'm doing, I get up out of my chair with a purpose, promptly forget what that purpose was, and go wandering around anyway...and I rounded the corner. I knew the cutout was there already, it hadn't been moved after I'd taken it out of the closet and put it there so I would be able to make sure Zack didn't hide it again-but it was there. In the dark. WATCHING ME.

Zack, naturally, upon hearing my girly shriek came out of his office, asking what was wrong. When I pointed at the cutout and yelped that I knew it was there, I knew but IT WAS STILL CREEPY AS HELL, and he realized that I'd just freaked out upon seeing the cutout even though I had already known it's exact location and thus had NO reason whatsoever to be startled by it, he snorted, but attempted to restrain his laughter.

He succeeded for all of two seconds.

In an attempt to avenge myself and restore my honor, I pounced on him and started snapping like I had done the first time, but he easily held me off. Later on, I tried moving it after Zack had closed the door by going the long way around the hall, through the bigger unused office and taking it and hiding it in the bigger unused office, then coming back around the long way again so he wouldn't hear any opening doors. Later the subject of the evil thing was broached again, and while saying that it was completely harmless and didn't even look all that creepy, he opened the door to the smaller unused office where it was supposed to be contained and-Gone! It vanished when no one was looking at it! JUST LIKE THE WEEPING ANGELS!

Rather than freak out as I had intended him to, he merely got a bit agitated because he thought I might've actually destroyed it as I had threatened to do several times, but it was in the corner of the bigger unused office and was totally fine, so he was placated. I was not.

Still have to figure out a way to get revenge. VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE.

Also he pointed out a framed picture in my hiding place that has George W. on it, wearing a similar grin to the cutout, which I was creeped out by and now the picture IS WATCHING ME so I had to turn it around to face the wall. Zack hasn't noticed it's new orientation.

[EDIT] Yes he has and he's calling me a coward now. D< Aaaand sitting there and staring at me with a weird expression and I can't make him go away. He's making weird faces too.

[EDIT] Zack saw me typing this over my shoulder and made me let him see it, so he brought the dang thing out again to mock me with. It has been banished back into the closet facing the wall. I know he's probably going to pull it out again and attempt to scare me with it but I found a knife in the kitchen supplies box and if that thing pops out at me I will go get the knife and I will stab it in the face!

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

R.I.P Edd Gould

For those of you who don't know who he is, Edd Gould, creator of Eddsworld, is a fellow artist and animator who tragically lost a six year long fight against cancer, leaving behind many friends, family and fans who he gave up a lot for. He was one of the many inspirations I had that led me to my yet unfulfilled interest in animation and a concentration on comedy, and was one of those artists who proves that your art doesn't have to be absolute realism, or even close to it, to be good. He was a great guy, really friendly, giving and always ready to give an aspiring artist or animator some advice to help guide them on their way. I didn't know him personally, or even talk to him much online, but I certainly never had anything negative to say about him-nor did anyone else who he spent time with, either online or in real life. Even after finding out about his cancer, he refused to give up animating, even giving up business and show opportunities that he knew would take away time from the work his fans loved, and that he loved to do. He did what a lot of people can only hope to aspire to-and no matter what held him back, even a life threatening illness, he never gave up.

The youtube announcement is here:

Rest in peace, buddy-we're going to miss you.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Fuzzy Things

I'm sad you guys.

I went to a thrift store with my boyfriend yesterday because my tennis shoes, one of the three sets of shoes I own (an old beat up set of converse knee-boot sneaker things and a cheap pair of sandals that are falling apart are the other two) have done that outer-part-separating-from-the-soles-and-inner-cloth cracking death thing, so I know they're not going to last much longer but I can't afford new new ones so I went to look for some old new ones, and yeah. I didn't find the shoes (I have ridiculously small feet, my size is really hard to find anywhere NEW, much less used) but I did find this huge fluffy stuffed sheep (a ram, going by the horns) that was a dollar and I was just like GHASP I MUST HAVE and yeah. It came home with me.

So, the sad thing is, after sanitizing and washing it (I am paranoid about germs and hold no illusions as to the cleanliness of thrift store merchandise) it found it's way onto my bed, naturally, and when I was going to sleep I found it made a really good pillow so I was kind of hugging it. I felt my other plush, an official Disney plush of Angel from the Lilo and Stitch series (the pink female one with the antennae) against my back and I suddenly felt terrible because I was hugging the new plush and not the other one that I usually cling to in my sleep and what if she was lonely or jealous and oh god what if she thought I'd replaced her?!

So I ended up having to figure out this weird position so I could hug both of them because I didn't want her getting jealous and potentially plotting my or the sheep's demise.

Before anyone asks, I'm twenty-one (turning twenty-two in August) and yes I realize this is probably a really sad thing for an adult-ish woman to do, but nyeh. I can't help but think of plushies and stuff as alive in some way, and that has nothing to do with the Toy Story movies, I was doing that before they came out. If one falls off the bed or something, I have to pick it back up and make sure it's okay and apologize to it if I knocked it off and all this other stuff. They always have names and assigned genders (I haven't named the ram yet because I'm not sure what to call him) and yeah. This may well stem from the fact that I didn't really have friends as a kid (the only 'friends' I had were one or two kids, one a neighbor boy who used me as an excuse to come over and raid our fridge, the other a girl my age who used me as an excuse to hang out with my older sister, pulling the "two's company, three's a crowd" line on me and running off with her to leave me sitting alone somewhere) so the only 'friends' I had were my stuffed animals, who I always gave names and personalities and all to. I had most of the ones I'd grown up with since I was a toddler up until the house fire, which destroyed them all. Consciously I know they're nothing but cloth and stuffing, but still. I even used to worry about leaving a big plush goat I had alone with my plush coyote Ky(pronounced kai), because coyotes are their natural predators and all. It was like I half expected to come home to see stuffing and shredded cloth spread out all over my bedroom floor, with a very fat satisfied looking coyote plush sitting on the bed.

Um...yeah. Not sure where I'm going with this. I just thought the first bit was kind of funny, didn't mean to get into that whole messed up psychology bit there. I think it's actually a recognized thing, though, to project personalities and identities onto inanimate objects. Probably.

......I miss Ky. 8(

Monday, May 21, 2012

King Thrushbeard

This one...not really sure what to say about it, honestly. It's mostly a case of some greedy, rude princess needing to learn a lesson, and the supposed 'one true love' taking that education into his own hands, regardless of how rude, hypocritical or even downright damaging it can be to aforementioned maiden, and her upbringing, of course, is never blamed for it.

King Thrushbeard

A king had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure,
but so proud and haughty withal that no suitor was good
enough for her.  She sent away one after the other, and
ridiculed them as well.
Of course, it's never mentioned that bad parenting is most likely to blame for it.
Granted, who exactly is going to approach a king and queen and tell them their 
kid is a brat? 
 Once the king made a great feast and invited thereto, from far
and near, all the young men likely to marry. They were all
marshaled in a row according to their rank and standing.  First
came the kings, then the grand-dukes, then the princes, the
earls, the barons, and the gentry. 
 The grand-dukes come before the princes? I was under the impression that Prince
was directly below King, seeing as how the Prince will eventually be king and the
Grand-Duke will not unless there are dire circumstances. 
Then the king's daughter was led through the ranks, but to each 
one she had some objection to make.  One was too fat, the wine-barrel, 
she said.  Another was too tall, long and thin has little in. 
Firstly, someone needs to slap her. Secondly, long and thin has little in....
The third was too short, short and thick is never quick. 
Actually there is something to be said for decent girth...Ahem.
 The fourth was too pale, as pale as death.  The fifth too red, a fighting cock.
 The sixth was not straight enough, a green log dried behind
the stove.
I'm assuming this meant he was a hunchback or something, but this kind of brings
to mind some guy standing there with a pink ascot and glitter in his hair-what
with not being straight enough for her and all. He's just there to ogle the Princes.
 So she had something to say against each one, but she made
herself especially merry over a good king who stood quite
high up in the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked.
Look, she cried and laughed, he has a chin like a thrush's
beak. And from that time he got the name of King Thrushbeard.
So everyone calls him that now, just because the bitchy Princess did? Man. Talk 
about being led around by the nose. 
 But the old king, when he saw that his daughter did nothing
but mock the people, and despised all the suitors who were
gathered there, was very angry, and swore that she should have
for her husband the very first beggar that came to his doors.
Because condemning your daughter to marriage to a filthy, penniless, probably
at least somewhat useless man who decidedly won't be able to take care of her
is what good parents do. 
 A few days afterwards a fiddler came and sang beneath the
windows, trying to earn a few pennies.  When the king heard him
he said, let him come up.  So the fiddler came in, in his dirty,
ragged clothes, and sang before the king and his daughter, and
when he had ended he asked for a trifling gift.  The king said,
your song has pleased me so well that I will give you my
daughter there, to wife.
"You came in here seeking a way to perhaps feed yourself for a day-now you get
to take another mouth that you can't provide for and will be stuck with until
you inevitably die of starvation! Lucky you! Did I mention she's a complete
snotty brat?"
 The king's daughter shuddered, but the king said, I have taken
an oath to give you to the very first beggar-man and I will keep
it.  All she could say was in vain.  The priest was brought,
and she had to let herself be wedded to the fiddler on the
spot.  When that was done the king said, now it is not proper
for you, a beggar-woman, to stay any longer in my palace, you may
just go away with your husband.
Bet he didn't even give the poor guy any money for singing. 
 The beggar-man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to
walk away on foot with him.  When they came to a large forest
she asked; "To whom does that beautiful forest belong?"  "It
belongs to King Thrushbeard.  If you had taken him, it would
have been yours."  "Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken
King Thrushbeard."
 Well, hindsight is 20/20 and all that.
 Afterwards they came to a meadow, and she asked again, "To whom
does this beautiful green meadow belong?"  "It belongs to King
Thrushbeard.  If you had taken him, it would have been
yours."  "Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken King

Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, "To whom
does this fine large town belong?"  "It belongs to King Thrushbeard.
If you had taken him, it would have been yours." "Ah, unhappy
girl that I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard."
"It does not please me," said the fiddler; "To hear you always
wishing for another husband.  Am I not good enough for you?"
Dude...she's a princess. You're a beggar. She was forced to marry you against her
will. Don't expect her to be pleased with the situation. 
 At last they came to a very little hut, and she said,"Oh
goodness.  What a small house.  To whom does this miserable,
tiny hovel belong?"  The fiddler answered, "That is my house and
yours, where we shall live together."
 She had to stoop in order to go in at the low door.  "Where are
the servants?"; said the king's daughter.  "What servants?";answered
the beggar-man.  "You must yourself do what you wish to have done.
Just make a fire at once, and set on water to cook my supper,
I am quite tired."
YOU'RE tired? She's walked the same distance as you, buddy, and isn't used
to this sort of thing besides. This is completely uncharted territory for her.
A bit ago you were complaining about her not finding you good enough to be
her husband-well, yeah, you're a dirty beggar who's making demands of her the
moment he gets her in his house, even though she's probably as worn out as you!
Not the best first impression! 
 But the king's daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, 
and the beggar-man had to lend a hand himself to get anything fairly done. 
 When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed.  But he forced
her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after
the house.
As someone who is decidedly NOT a morning person, I deeply sympathize
with the princess here. 
 For a few days they lived in this way as well as might be, and
came to the end of all their provisions.  Then the man said,
"Wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and drinking here and
earning nothing.  You must make baskets."
Wife? You really can't even call her by her name? Rude.
....actually, what IS her name? It's never mentioned once! Does she just
not have one and only goes by what title she happens to bear at the time? 
 He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home.  Then she began to
 make baskets, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands.
You can't just suddenly know how to do things like that, or have the ability.
It takes time to build up the endurance for certain tasks. Woodcarving, for
instance-when I started it, even after getting the basic knowledge of how to do
it, it still took a while (and several scars) for my hands to strengthen and
toughen up enough to handle it fairly well. 
 "I see that this will not do;" said the man.  "You had better spin,
perhaps you can do that better."  She sat down and tried to spin,
but the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood
ran down.
....Just how soft and delicate is this woman's skin? Wet tissue paper would
probably hold up better than that! It's THREAD! 
 "See, said the man, you are fit for no sort of work.
I have made a bad bargain with you.  Now I will try to make a
business with pots and earthenware.  You must sit in the
market-place and sell the ware."  Alas, thought she, if any of
the people from my father's kingdom come to the market and see
me sitting there, selling, how they will mock me.  But it was
of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to die of hunger.
For the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad
to buy the woman's wares because she was good-looking, and
they paid her what she asked.  Many even gave her the money and
left the pots with her as well. 
Dang. People were just straight up giving her money just because she's pretty?
Is the moral of the story "Pretty people get what they want" or something?!
 So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted, then the husband 
bought a lot of new crockery.  With this she sat down at the corner of the
market-place, and set it out round about her ready for sale.
But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along, and
he rode right amongst the pots so that they were all broken into
a thousand bits.  She began to weep, and did now know what to do for fear. 
This is when the "You break it, you buy it" rule comes in handy. Also, if he's that drunk,
how is he balancing well enough to stay on a galloping horse? As a horseback rider 
myself, I can tell you that's no easy task when perfectly sober! 
 "Alas, what will happen to me?" Gried she.  "What will my husband say to this?"
She ran home and told him of the misfortune.  "Who would seat
herself at a corner of the market-place with crockery?" said
the man.  "Leave off crying, I see very well that you cannot
do any ordinary work, so I have been to our king's palace and
have asked whether they cannot find a place for a kitchen-maid,
and they have promised me to take you.  In that way you will
get your food for nothing."
Jerk jerk jerk jerk JERK. The corner areas are some of the most easily visible,
and thus ideal, of a marketplace! Gah. This guy needs to be smacked worse than her! 
 The king's daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at
the cook's beck and call, and do the dirtiest work.  In both her
pockets she fastened a little jar, in which she took home her
share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.
Doesn't leavings generally refer to drippings of fat and grease? They were LIVING
off that? That can't be good for their arteries. 
 It happened that the wedding of the king's eldest son was to be
celebrated, so the poor woman went up and placed herself by
the door of the hall to look on.  When all the candles were lit,
and people, each more beautiful than the other, entered, and
all was full of pomp and splendor, she thought of her lot with
a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had
humbled her and brought her to so great poverty.
Well, she clearly has learned her lesson, at least. Now if we can just teach the fiddler
how to treat a lady... 
 The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in
and out reached her, and now and then the servants threw her
a few morsels of them.  These she put in her jars to take home.
Hopefully they threw them carefully enough that she wasn't picking them up
off the floor, considering the time period these were written in I don't think
that'd be very sanitary. 
 All at once the king's son entered, clothed in velvet and silk,
with gold chains about his neck.  And when he saw the
beautiful woman standing by the door he seized her by the hand,
and would have danced with her.  But she refused and shrank
with fear, for she saw that it was King Thrushbeard, her
suitor whom she had driven away with scorn.
Wait wait wait...the King's son is King Thrushbeard? How the heck does that work?
If he's the king's SON, not the King, then he's a Prince, not a king! Why are
they calling him King if he's a prince? 
 Her struggles were of no avail, he drew her into the hall.  But the string
by which her pockets were hung broke, the pots fell down, the
soup ran out, and the scraps were scattered all about.
Her pockets were hanging by a string? What kind of pockets were they? 
 And when the people saw it, there arose general laughter and
derision, and she was so ashamed that she would rather have
been a thousand fathoms below the ground.  She sprang to the
door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man caught
her and brought her back.  And when she looked at him it was
King Thrushbeard again.
Dude. You just dragged her out in front of everyone against her will, 
humiliated her, and made her lose her and her husband's dinner. Leave her alone
 He said to her kindly, do not be afraid, I and the fiddler who has been 
living with you in that wretched hovel are one.  For love of you I disguised
myself so.  And I also was the hussar who rode through your crockery.
This was all done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish
you for the insolence with which you mocked me.
Because making someone suffer under the threat of starvation and mistreatment
of a jerk beggar husband with the impression that things will never get
better is totally how you show someone you care.
Also, if he was the fiddler the whole time-how on earth did he find the time
to pull this thing off? And didn't any of the other royalty or his advisors
or anyone have anything to say about him leaving off his royal duties to go
mess with a princess who snubbed him and subject her to horrible treatment, rather
than just saying "Wow, what a brat." and ignoring her comments? For a king/prince,
he has pretty thin skin. 
 Then she wept bitterly and said, "I have done great wrong, and
am not worthy to be your wife."  But he said, "Be comforted,
the evil days are past.  Now we will celebrate our wedding."
Then the maids-in-waiting came and put on her the most splendid
clothing, and her father and his whole court came and wished
her happiness in her marriage with King Thrushbeard, and
the joy now began in earnest.  I wish you and I had been there
So he clearly had this thing planned out from the very start, which doesn't bode
well for his mental health. Also, don't you love that last line? Almost makes the
story seem like it was told from the point of view of a stalker who wanted to be
at the party, but didn't get invited, so they're spreading the King's dirty laundry
around as revenge.
So, what do you guys think of this one, and how would you interpret it? 

Saturday, May 19, 2012


So. Boyfriend has figured out that along with being extremely sensitive to air currents and sound, I also react in ways he finds amusing to physical touches, such as tickling or being poked. Namely I either make loud, high-pitched meeping noises, or I yelp like a small fuzzy dog being tazered, which he finds hilarious.

Thus, he has decided that this shall be his method for training me not to constantly apologize for everything, whether or not I had anything to do with it. I have at least once (probably more...but I'm not going to say) been reduced to hiding in a corner, shielding myself with a pillow (the only one I didn't throw at him) shrieking my head off like a cheerleader on helium while he advanced with his pokey fingers of pokey-ness. While my small size makes me more limber and agile than he is, he's at least three times my size and can easily corner me somewhere and pin me or hold me down one-handed since he's a lot stronger, and he's not half as ticklish as I am so that defense doesn't work, and I can't go for the whole kicking him in the groin thing because he's my boyfriend and I will probably need those bits intact later thank you very much.

Revenge doesn't work either because the only time he's really vulnerable to attack by me is when he's driving, and I'd rather not do something that causes him to yell and flail then because I'd rather not be smashed into chunky red paste by an oncoming semi, so there's that. Nyeh.

I need to figure out a method of vengeance that he's actually vulnerable to, won't kill one or both of us, and that won't damage anything important. Also, something I won't forget, because me trying to remember things I don't write down is like trying to carry water with an eggbeater. Just won't work.

Anyway, called the Genius company and evidently they're sending me a new pen for my tablet in the mail, not sure when it's going to get here though, but hopefully within the next week. So yay for that!

Friday, May 18, 2012

Reason #28540 why I fail at life.

Does it make me a pathetic, sad little person to actually get angry over how many more of those nasty yellow and orange nerds there are in the theatre-style box than there are green, purple and pink ones that I actually like?

....probably, yeah.


Orange and yellow can still suck it though. If I drop a pink one on the floor I'll pick it up and darn well eat it anyway. Orange and yellow get to stay there and ROT because they're PATHETIC and NASTY and no one loves them and they're going to die all alone and uneaten.


I think I'm going to stop now. I apologize for this post.

Knit Happens

Got a little plug here-I'm putting the scarf that I had on my Etsy account on my Ebay account now, since Etsy isn't doing so well-so if you're interested in bidding on it, please go here:

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Knapsack, the Hat and the Horn

 I sometimes find myself amazed at some of the stories I come across-the 
heroes seem like people that not only shouldn't be considered heroes, but should
darn well be arrested or at least given a good kick in the saddle area! This
is one of the shining examples of a jackass hero.
The Knapsack, the Hat, and the Horn. 
There were once three brothers who had fallen deeper and deeper into
poverty, and at last their need was so great that they had to endure
hunger, and had nothing to eat or drink. Then said they, it cannot go
on like this, we had better go into the world and seek our fortune.
Youths heading out into the world to seek their fortune seems to be a common
theme, and a commonly recycled starter for such stories.  
 They therefore set out, and had already walked over many a long road
and many a blade of grass, but had not yet met with good luck.  One
day they arrived in a great forest, and in the midst of it was a
hill, and when they came nearer they saw that the hill was all
silver.  Then spoke the eldest, now I have found the good luck I
wished for, and I desire nothing more.  He took as much of the silver
as he could possibly carry, and then turned back and went home again.
Dude. It's a HILL made of silver! A whole hill! Mark out where that bad boy is,
come back with as many carts as you can and load them up! Why do people in
these stories seem to always be content with whatever they can carry in
their own arms?
Also, just who the heck left out a hill of friggen' silver? If it's coined
silver, then someone must have left it there, if it's a solid hill of silver-
well, he'd better have a miniature forge with him or some really impressive upper
body strength to haul that home. 
 But the two others said, we want something more from good luck than
mere silver, and did not touch it, but went onwards.
 'Mere' nothing! FREAKING. HILL.
 After they had walked for two days longer without stopping, they came to a hill
which was all gold. The second brother stopped, took thought with
himself, and was undecided.  What shall I do, said he, shall I take
for myself so much of this gold, that I have sufficient for all the
rest of my life, or shall I go farther.  At length he made a
decision, and putting as much into his pockets as would go in, said
farewell to his brother, and went home.
Dude...get a horse and cart or something, come back and load up! A HILL made
of gold, you could live like a king and send all your progeny to college!
GOOD colleges! Taking just what can fit in your pocket will hardly be enough
to really DO much with, unless you're either very business savvy or have
really freaking huge pockets.

Also, for some reason this makes the song 'pocketful of sunshine' pop in my head.
 But the third said, silver and gold do not move me, I will not
renounce my chance of fortune, perhaps something better still will be
given me. 
That's totally not greedy or anything. 
 He journeyed onwards, and when he had walked for three
days, he came to a forest which was still larger than the one before,
and never would come to an end, and as he found nothing to eat or to
drink, he was all but exhausted.  Then he climbed up a high tree to
find out if up there he could see the end of the forest, but so far
as his eye could pierce he saw nothing but the tops of trees.  Then
he began to descend the tree again, but hunger tormented him, and he
thought to himself, if I could but eat my fill once more.

When he got down he saw with astonishment a table beneath the tree
richly spread with food, the steam of which rose up to meet him.
 This time, said he, my wish has been fulfilled at the right moment.
And without inquiring who had brought the food, or who had cooked it,
he approached the table, and ate with enjoyment until he had appeased
his hunger. 
 What he didn't know was that the food was laid out as a sponsorship picnic
to get funds for the local orphanage/puppy and kitten shelter. They were trying
to earn enough for new shoes and maybe some toys or something, but he went and
ate all the things they were going to sell so no one got sponsored and they had to 
make shoes out of the kittens.

.....I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from.
When he was done, he thought, it would after all be a
pity if the pretty little table-cloth were to be spoilt in the forest
here, and folded it up tidily and put it in his pocket.  Then he went
onwards, and in the evening, when hunger once more returned to him,
he wanted to make a trial of his little cloth, and spread it out and
said, I wish you to be covered with good cheer again, and scarcely
had the wish crossed his lips than as many dishes with the most
exquisite food on them stood on the table as there was room for.  Now
I perceive, said he, in what kitchen my cooking is done.  You shall
be dearer to me than the mountains of silver and gold.  For he saw
plainly that it was a wishing-cloth. The cloth, however, was still
not enough to enable him to sit down quietly at home, he preferred to
wander about the world and pursue his fortune farther.

One night he met, in a lonely wood, a dusty, black charcoal-burner,
who was burning charcoal there, and had some potatoes by the fire, on
which he was going to make a meal.  Good evening, blackbird, said the
youth.  How do you get on in your solitude.
 Blackbird?! Seriously, that's just rude. 
 One day is like another, replied the charcoal-burner, and every night
potatoes.  Have you a mind to have some, and will you be my guest.
Many thanks, replied the traveler, I won't rob you of your supper,
you did not reckon on a visitor, but if you will put up with what I
have, you shall have an invitation. Who is to prepare it for you,
said the charcoal-burner.  I see that you have nothing with you, and
there is no one within a two hours' walk who could give you anything.
And yet there shall be a meal, answered the youth, and better than
any you have ever tasted.  Thereupon he brought his cloth out of his
knapsack, spread it on the ground, and said, little cloth, cover
yourself, and instantly boiled meat and baked meat stood there, and
as hot as if it had just come out of the kitchen.

The charcoal-burner stared with wide-open eyes, but did not require
much pressing, he fell to, and thrust larger and larger mouthfuls
into his black mouth.  When they had eaten everything, the
charcoal-burner smiled contentedly, and said, listen, your
table-cloth has my approval, it would be a fine thing for me in this
forest, where no one ever cooks me anything good.  I will propose an
exchange to you, there in the corner hangs a soldier's knapsack,
which is certainly old and shabby, but in it lie concealed wonderful
powers, but, as I no longer use it, I will give it to you for the

I must first know what these wonderful powers are, answered the
One of the few instances in which the hero displays some intelligence. Instead
of just hearing the words 'magic powers' and jumping on the deal, he's finding
out whether or not it'd be worth the trade. Gotta hand it to him-he's not going
to hand over a wondrous magic tablecloth only to find out the magic whatever he
trades it for does something completely useless later on.
 That will I tell you, replied the charcoal-burner, every time you tap
it with your hand, a corporal comes with six men armed from head to
foot, and they do whatsoever you command them.  So far as I am
concerned, said the youth, if nothing else can be done, we will
exchange, and he gave the charcoal-burner the cloth, took the
knapsack from the hook, put it on, and bade farewell.  When he had
walked a while, he wished to make a trial of the magical powers of
his knapsack and tapped it.  Immediately the seven warriors stepped
up to him, and the corporal said, what does my lord and ruler wish

March with all speed to the charcoal-burner, and demand my
wishing-cloth back.  They faced to the left, and it was not long
before they brought what he required, and had taken it from the
charcoal-burner without asking many questions.  The young man bade
them retire, went onwards, and hoped fortune would shine yet more
brightly on him. 
No, really, what?! He makes a fair trade with someone who kindly invited him into
their home and offered to share their only food with him, and then turns around
and backstabs the poor guy who did nothing to harm him in any way and leave
the poor fellow with nothing?!
Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. Bullies poor coal burners who show him nothing
but kindness and generosity into even more poverty than they're already in. 
 By sunset he came to another charcoal-burner, who
was making his supper ready by the fire. If you will eat some
potatoes with salt, but with no dripping, come and sit down with me,
said the sooty fellow.
Oh no.... 
 No, he replied, this time you shall be my guest, and he spread out
his cloth, which was instantly covered with the most beautiful
dishes.  They ate and drank together, and enjoyed themselves
heartily.  After the meal was over, the charcoal-burner said, up
there on that shelf lies a little old worn-out hat which has strange
properties - the moment someone puts it on, and turns it round on his
head, the cannons go off as if twelve were fired all together, and
they demolish everything so that no one can withstand them.  The hat
is of no use to me, and I will willingly give it for your tablecloth.
 How are all these old coal-burners ending up with these things? And only
to continue being poor coal-burners? Did none of them ever think to put those
items to use, or take them into town and sell them or something?
Also, if that hat has twelve little cannons sitting on it, it must look pretty
 That suits me very well, he answered, took the hat, put it on, and
left his table-cloth behind him.  But hardly had he walked away than
he tapped on his knapsack, and his soldiers had to fetch the cloth
back again.  One thing comes on the top of another, thought he, and I
feel as if my luck had not yet come to an end. 
Luck? LUCK?! That's not luck, that's being a jackass, you slimy boggart. I hope
you get eaten by a giant three-headed chicken. 
  Neither had his thoughts deceived him (for another victim lay just forward,
waiting to fall into his greedy clutches).  After he had walked on for the whole
 of one day, he came to a third charcoal-burner, who like the previous one,
invited him to potatoes without dripping.  But he let him also dine
with him from his wishing-cloth, and the charcoal-burner liked it so
well, that at last he offered him a horn for it, which had very
different properties from those of the hat.  The moment someone blew
it all the walls and fortifications fell down, and all towns and
villages became ruins.  For this he immediately gave the
charcoal-burner the cloth, but he afterwards sent his soldiers to
demand it back again, so that at length he had the knapsack, hat and
horn, all three.  Now, said he, I am a made man, and it is time for
me to go home and see how my brothers are getting on.
 This SHOULD be the point in the story where Karma smacks backhands this guy
through a wall, takes everything he has, and ditches him in a dank hotel room
without cab fare, but unfortunately rampant greed is more often rewarded than
punished in a lot of these stories. 
 When he reached home, his brothers had built themselves a handsome
house with their silver and gold, and were living in clover.
 ....Living in clover? I'm assuming that means they're well off, but I can't
help but picture two finely dressed men on all fours nibbling clover in a field
with the goats. 
 He went to see them, but as he came in a ragged coat, with his shabby hat on
his head, and his old knapsack on his back, they would not
acknowledge him as their brother.  They mocked and said, you give out
that you are our brother who despised silver and gold, and craved for
something still better for himself.  Such a person arrives in his
carriage in full splendor like a mighty king, not like a beggar, and
they drove him out of doors. 
I know the guy is a total greedy prick and didn't have the sense to quit
while he was ahead, but c'mon, that's your brother. No need for that kind of 
treatment, just because he doesn't seem to have done as well as you.
 Then he fell into a rage, and tapped his knapsack until a hundred and 
fifty men stood before him armed from head to foot.  He commanded them to 
surround his brothers' house, and two of them were to take hazelsticks with 
them, and beat the two insolent men until they knew who he was.
I'm fairly certain they know who you are, dude, and beating them isn't going
to do anything but make you look like that much more of a prick. 
 A violent disturbance broke out, people ran together, and wanted to
lend the two some help in their need, but against the soldiers they
could do nothing.  News of this at length came to the king, who was
very angry, and ordered a captain to march out with his troop, and
drive this disturber of the peace out of the town, but the man with
knapsack soon got a greater body of men together, who repulsed the
captain and his men, so that they were forced to retire with bloody
noses.  The king said, this vagabond is not brought to order yet, and
next day sent a still larger troop against him, but they could do
even less.  The youth set still more men against them, and in order
to be done the sooner, he turned his hat twice round on his head, and
heavy guns began to play, and the king's men were beaten and put to

And now, said he, I will not make peace until the king gives me his
daughter to wife, and I govern the whole kingdom in his name.  He
caused this to be announced to the king, and the latter said to his
daughter, necessity is a hard nut to crack.  What else is there for
me to do but what he desires.  If I want peace and to keep the crown
on my head, I must give you away.
Oh, great, now he wants to run the kingdom. Look, man, an important part of being
king is having the loyalty of your people, and summoning up magic soldiers to beat
people for having done well for themselves and snubbed you isn't going to earn
you that, particularly when you beat the crud out of their soldiers and are
obnoxiously noisy. Nor will demanding the daughter of the king, who is probably
a beloved princess, make you desirable in their eyes. Also, having a wife who
hates your guts tends to be a bad idea. 
 So the wedding was celebrated, but the king's daughter was vexed that
her husband should be a common man, who wore a shabby hat, and put on
an old knapsack.  She longed to get rid of him, and night and day
studied how she could accomplished this.  Then she thought to
herself, is it possible that his wonderful powers lie in the
knapsack, and she feigned affection and caressed him, and when his
heart was softened, she said, if you would but lay aside that horrid
knapsack, it makes you look so ugly, that I can't help being ashamed
of you.  Dear child, said he, this knapsack is my greatest treasure,
as long as I have it, there is no power on earth that I am afraid of.
And he revealed to her the wonderful virtue with which it was

Then she threw herself in his arms as if she were going to kiss him,
but cleverly took the knapsack off his shoulders, and ran away with
Aha, a forced wife princess who doesn't just sit around and take it! No, she 
uses her feminine wiles to trick him, take the object of his power and regain her
freedom! You go, girl! 
As soon as she was alone she tapped it, and commanded the
warriors to seize their former master, and take him out of the royal
palace.  They obeyed, and the false wife sent still more men after
him, who were to drive him quite out of the country. 
False wife? I'm pretty sure they were really married-by HIS demand, mind you.
Also, he totally deserved that and more. 
Then he would have been ruined if he had not had the little hat.  And hardly were
his hands free before he turned it twice.  Immediately the cannon
began to thunder, and demolished everything, and the king's daughter
herself was forced to come and beg for mercy.  As she entreated in
such moving terms, and promised to better her ways, he allowed
himself to be persuaded and granted her peace.

She behaved in a friendly manner to him, and acted as if she loved
him very much, and after some time managed so to befool him, that he
confided to her that even if someone got the knapsack into his power,
he could do nothing against him so long as the old hat was still his.
When she knew the secret, she waited until he was asleep, and then
she took the hat away from him, and had it thrown out into the
He couldn't guess after the first time that she wanted to know where the powers
came from so she could remove them from him? Geez. Additionally, I wouldn't have
just taken it from him and had it thrown away, I would have had the guards seize
him right then and there, strip him of all else he owned just in case, and had him
either imprisoned forever or put to death. The guy is clearly unstable. 
 But the horn still remained to him, and in great anger he
blew it with all his strength.

Instantly all walls, fortifications, towns, and villages, toppled
down, and crushed the king and his daughter to death. And had he not
put down the horn and had blown just a little longer, everything
would have been in ruins, and not one stone would have been left
standing on another.  Then no one opposed him any longer, and he made
himself king of the whole country.
Because psycho tantrum throwing man-children with dangerously powerful magic
at their disposal, who has no idea what the term 'moderation' means and has no
problem causing horrific amounts of property damage, is totallythe kind of person 
you want running your country for everyone to live happily ever after.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day, everyone! For those of you who still have mothers that you are in contact with and have a good relationship with, go ahead and give your mum a hug or some flowers-a lot of people don't even realize how much their parents have had to give to them to form them into the people they are now, so those of you lucky enough to have had good parents-let them know you appreciate the sacrifices they made for you.

Also, I just had to share something a really awesome artist I've admired for a long time (Bri-chan, go check out her gallery at and show her some love!) made for today-For those of you who don't know the legend, in Norse Mythology, the eight-legged horse Slepnir was actually the result of Loki having to turn himself into a mare to lure off a builder's horse so the builder couldn't finish Valhalla on time (the gods didn't want to pay him, and wouldn't have to if he didn't meet the deadline) and Loki thought he could outrun the builder's stallion-well, he couldn't, and wound up getting knocked up by it. So Loki-the very MALE trickster god-is actually a mommy too!

Thus, Brianna created this, and much laughter was had. XD

Sunday, May 6, 2012


Really not happy right now.

So, I just got the drawing tablet I mentioned, and since I couldn't afford a new one I got a refurbished one from a high rated company on Amazon, one that was mentioned in 'like new' condition, and it looked pretty good coming out of the box. Worked okay for a little while too-I was able to get a picture done with it, though it acted a little funky, I figured it was either the copy of Photoshop I had or just a harmless thing that it'd do sometimes. Well-I tried to use it to do the header I mentioned earlier, and it won't draw. At all. It won't move the cursor a single pixel. I tried changing the battery on the pen, doing a hard restart, uninstalling and reinstalling the drivers-nothing. The light on the tablet is on and blinking like it did while it was working, but it's still completely unresponsive. I'm pretty sure it's the pen, but I can't find anywhere to buy the pen just by itself, and I certainly can't afford to buy a brand new drawing tablet right now. BARGLE.

Since I can't get ahold of anyone right now, I'm going to try calling the company tomorrow and see if they can't tell me where to get a new pen or what to do to fix the one I have, because-this thing is pretty much my only income source right now. Doing commissions for people, and this blog, are all I have right now since I can't find a job anywhere (California's job market sucks, especially for someone who was unable to afford college) so...yeah. Really not a good thing to have malfunctioning right now.

*sigh* It seems like it's always one thing or another going wrong. Someone shoot me.

The tablet is a Genius G-Pen f610 6X10" if anyone's familiar with it and can give me some advice for it.


Sorry for the lack of updates guys, I've been working on some other stuff, job hunting, and generally life has been getting in the way-y'know, trying to find some means of monetary stability and all. In lighter news though, I finally found a cheap drawing tablet, so Faerie Fails will be getting some artwork soon! Possibly a new layout, I know there will be a header for sure-already drawn it, just have to color it in and all- and probably a sketch or two to go along with stories I'll be doing in the future! So, thank you guys so much for reading, I will do my best to not leave you hanging for much longer!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Knit Happens

No story at the moment (sorry!) but I have for you a project of mine that has reached completion. As some of you may know, I knit, and while I'm far from being an old hand at it I think I have the hang of it fairly well. Anyway, here is a simple project that I think anyone can accomplish if they have even basic knitting knowledge.

Stormy Seas/Jade Seas Short Scarf

You can't really tell because of the resolution (and my crappy camera-I can forgive it for being crappy considering it's been thrown, stepped on by horses, left in the blazing heat for days on end, ect.....I'm kind of abusive to my electronics, except my laptop) but even though it only wraps around twice (three times if you have a really thin neck) it looks more layered because of the way the edges curl inward. The pom-pom is...not necessary, but I had just got this little tool that said it could make heart shaped pom poms and while it didn't exactly come out heart was still yeah. I like fuzzy things! I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM!!

So anyway, all you need to know to make this one is how to cast on, knit stitch (also known as the stockinette stitch) and bind off. Really simple!

I used a size fifteen circular needle (my first time using a circular needle but holy crap if I can find them in all the needle sizes I may never use a straight needle again!! These things are awesome!! For those who don't know, circular needles are those ones that both needle ends are attached by a thin cord, usually plastic, so the yarn never leaves it. Really handy!) and Loops & Threads Country Loom Acrylic Yarn. The recommended amount is 250 yards (which would take two skeins) but I completed it with one 104 yard skein, which gets it about this wide, depending on the yarn:

Stretched out in it's fuzzy glory!

What you'll need to do is cast on 95 stitches. If you want it to be longer, since the length of what you cast on is going to be the length of the scarf, and the rows you knit will be the width, feel free to add more stitches until it's the desired length. I'd say up to 150 or so, depending on what you can fit on your needles and feel comfortable with. Mind, this will mean that you'll probably need more yarn than one skein, so have another ball or two handy.

Once you've cast on all your stitches, start knitting! No purling or any other stitch necessary. You can get creative if you want, but for a beginner I'd say stick with just plain knitting. Continue until you reach the desired width (the wider it is, the more material there will be to flop over, giving the illusion of more layers) and then bind off.

If you want to add anything like pom-poms or some such to it, then feel free to do so-and don't worry about the brand or type of yarn, any super bulky (preferably size 6) will work.

Hope a few fellow or future knitters out there found this useful!

The completed scarf will be up for sale at my Etsy account here:

Give me a home?

Based off the design for the Jenny from the Block Scarf by Purllin.