In today's latest strange compilation of things I've done today in my sleep - Bob Kelso from scrubs replaces Thrall as the Warchief in World of Warcraft, and his yelling echoes far and wide across the world of Azeroth. I, meanwhile, am busy outswimming Level ?? hammerhead sharks while hunting white truffles. That's right. I'm a herbalist hunting shrooms for dinner. Apparently while naked.
Could've been worse.
My mind is a dirty, dirt place. Should completely be ashamed of myself. But seriously, what was I supposed to think of a sign that had spelled in out capslock, font 24, the word VIBRATE?
It sure as hell wasn't cellphones.
Insert explicatives [here]. I know I'm a bit late in signing up for classes to take next semester, but as it turns out it doesn't really matter much. All the classes I had bookmarked as interesting electives are - as it turns out - graduate courses I'm not allowed to take. USF doesn't separate classes by level - all the classes by department are all muddled together and you just kinda have to guess. Tampa, for some reason, has only one Advanced Technical Writing class, and one Advanced Composition class, despite the fact that both are required for the major and minor in Technical writing. St. Pete has an Advanced Technical Writing class open - but I can't sign up for it because I haven't completed my regular Technical Writing class yet. (I have an A so far.)
So basically... I can't sign up for the requirements for my minor, and I have to dig around for different electives. This sucks monkey balls.
Note to self: do not read World War Z before bed. This results in trouble sleeping and really freaking weird dreams. And wigging out when Amber bumps into stuff in the middle of the night. Kthanksbai.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Dude, the Macy's Day Parade rickrolled everyone. With Rick Astley himself! Win.
I wanted to finish the book first, but, well, I got dragged along against my will. I don't think Mom took my comments about hordes of squealing teenage girls seriously until we got into the theater. I could almost hear the "oh shit" thoughts descending. And there was squealing, and cries of "I love you Edward!" And other such nonsense.
But squealing hordes aside, it wasn't a bad movie. The dialogue and pacing was much improved, and I didn't actually have to deal with Meyer's purple prose. On it's own, it's a decent movie. Probably not something I'd want to shell out money on for a DVD, but worth bittorrenting, or seeing once and never paying any attention to again. In comparison to the book, it was a vast improvement. There were a number of moments in the movie that were hilarious - that I don't think were intended to be funny - and some characters got expanded roles, while others were pretty much squeezed out to save time, and there were one or two scenes in the movie that got added or altered, or combined with other scenes.
I kinda thought they'd put a little more effort into the special effects budget though. Seriously. At first I thought there'd been an accident and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon got spliced on the reels.
No, I haven't seen it. Though I may - it can't possibly be any worse than the book (in fact, I think this is going to be one of the cases where the movie's better). I just don't want to see it today.
Mom: I'm thinking we'll go see Twilight.*
* Because I never have any say in these things.
Me: I hope you like hordes of teenage girls who don't know better and deluded older women who do know better, but believe it anyway.
Mom: I can handle that.
Me: Can you handle squealing?
Mom: ... squealing?
Me: Yeah, squealing. Remember when you took me to that Backstreet Boys concert when I was little?
Mom: ... the movie's that good?
Me: No. The fans are just that obsessed.
Of course, now I'm tempted to go just to see what kind of zoo the movie theaters may or may not be.
Ok! Ribfest! Not as great as I was hoping. The entry fee was ridiculous (20$ a pop per person), and I think I inhaled about 5 buckets worth of soot. The ribs were, of course, good, but I didn't get the kind of selection I wanted because the absurd entry fee sucked most of my money. Could've just gone to a nice restaurant with tables for that. Mom really, desperately, wanted to see the opening band - which came on at 8:00 - for some reason. But she only wanted to see it for three minutes, and she didn't even know what band was playing. Good lord it was boring. We stood around for fifty five minutes - five minutes before the band started - before she changed her mind and figured it was best we just went home.
This might've been because I'd been whining about it for the past half hour.
Phantom of the Opera was as always, visually impressive. Not that keen on the actual music because often the actors would fade out during the longer verses. They either needed better mics or bigger lungs. But it was as always, visually impressive. >.> And I got the original Broadway soundtrack! Woo hoo!
Ok! Plans for this weekend!
Talk to mom about thanksgiving food.
Load up all those icons so they stop taking up space on the harddrive.
Find acceptable OC game.
Go to Ribfest. (Mmm, BBQ.)
Go to Phantom of the Opera. (Mmm, sex without actual sex.)