I'm kind of a big deal

Went back and read some of my previous posts, especially the ones on gaming, and I'm kind of in love with myself all over again.  So I'll continue, and maybe try for one post each weekday, just to keep in the habit of spitting my mind-juice into word-shapes on the screen.

Today, though, I'm watching my type appear onscreen, which is comforting, compared to yesterday's experiment of typing blind.  Yuck.

So, what to talk about?

Um.

I game on Thursdays?  It's fun.  I used to be the token female. which, let me tell you, really boosts your popularity among the select group you game with, at least until they hear that you, also, (even though you have girl parts and are probably supposed to cry when you see spiders and have both a dustruffle on the bed and those useless decorative curtains that hide the functional shower curtain) agree that peeing in the morning shower is both not-terrifying disgusting and actually something of a time- and water- saver.  (I do.  It's all going down the train.  Urine is, for the most part, pretty sterile, and as a girl I don't get a lot of chances to pee standing up.  DON'T JUDGE ME.)  But now we've had an incredibly attractive 16yo friend-of-the-DM's-daughter gaming with us for a while and that took "an evening with adults who are secretly all 12 years old who love innuendo and bad jokes" to "you can't say that in front of the child or pedobear will sneak into your skin at night and you'll wake up in prison."   It's interesting.  I was sort-of immune to the jocularity, except of course to defend her honor by reminding everyone that jokes in general are allowed, none of the propositional or hypothetical scenarios can involve the child.
And then she turned on me.
Turned on me and laughed.

So I get knocked prone in battle, right, and have about 3 HP to my name. The joke starts as something along the lines of  'my character fell down in battle. Again.  She's always on her back during these things.' (Hur hur sleeping with the enemy, etc.  They're not really sexists?  We do the same joke to anyone who falls down within striking distance of an enemy.) And then HER character also got knocked prone while trying to defend/stand astride MY character and keep my meagre hit points in play until I could stand and move the hell out of damage range.
So her character is now prone.  Essentially on top of mine.

And eyebrows go up as the fellas try to decide which scenario is more joke-worthy, and lo, it is stated that if no one is allowed to touch the bubble, why do I get to touch her bubble.  I smile (ignoring the innuendo) and say it's fine.  We're on the same team, and she fell defending my honor. (Yes, lame joke, but she's in the bubble, guys!)

She arches a brow and shrugs.  "Whatever.  Even if it's a problem, she's the one going to jail for it.  Not me."

BETRAYED.

Sweet Baby Raptor Jesus I am lazy as fuck all

So: I'm going to try to write more.  It should be interesting.  I'm also going to try to type up these entries without looking at them too much.  Just to see how truly despicable my typing skills become when I can't watch them and continue my obsession with the backspace key.

So! Scary story time!
I frighten mysel foften.  I'm not one of those people who can just lay down and sleep, I have to think for a while first.  During this time, my complete shit eyesight can often influence what I perceive around me and lead me to think "That stack of 'probably clothes' looks like the trash monster from the Fraggles" and then off I go. Right?
Sometimes, though, I think about how I'd like my home to look, ideally.  Other times it's environmental elements that get me going.

Exsample 1:  Last night (or maybe the night before) I was pretending to be asleep (really reading sites on my phone.  God I love my iPhone.  Or, rather, I love the internet.) and as I shifted, the bed squeaks really loudly.  I tdoes that a lot.  I don't know if it's because it's an old bedframe/boxspring combo, or if it's because we have the above stacked on risers so more shit can fit under the bed. But! It's noisy, and I thought "Wow, if I was starting fresh and had my own place, I hope the bed wouldn't squeak like this cause it's loud and annoying", which led to "Well, I probably would just throw a mattress on the floor, because lazy, and also it'd lend itself nicely to a sort of 'casbah' theme to a bedroom and the cats would probably enjoy that", which led to "And then when I'm feeling lazy or sick I could just crawl to the bathroom."
"
Naturally, this led to me picturing the crawl, in the early light of dawn or the pitch black of night blessedly cast by blackout curtains (because FUCK YOU, STREETLIGHT!) and how I'd keep the carpet vacuumed , and how I wouldn't even need my glasses because if I'm on the floor I can't trip over anything.
Which made me think of crawling across the darkened hallway to the bathroom, grumbling quietly about the hour, or whatever issue made me go to the bathroom in the first place, and how my dogcat would probably really enjoy this new game of "walk under the human".
So then I imagine her bushy tail running across my throat as the gallumphs in front of me on her way to jump into the bathtub, y'know, like they do, and then my brain turned on me.
As usual.
It made me imagine laying my hand down on the carpet in the hallway, only to encounter another hand.  My brain-what-loves-me rallied, and suggested this would be a probably-hungover houseguest and we could carefully avoid knocking heads and have a quiet groaning discussion about who gets the restroom first.
And then the brain-what-hates-me thought:
What if the hand was cold.
And in the near-dark you saw the other crawler, her hair down over her face, like your own.
And she raises her head, and her jaw is missing, the carpet dark beneath her with blood or gore, and a trail seeping audibly into the carpet where she's crawled to here.


Fuck you, zombie girl from The Ring, and also the Grudge. Even though I logically realize you're among the slowest and least dangerous of zombie/spirit/demon/creatures, you still suck and that gagging air-sucking noise of an exposed trachea and ugh.

Fuck you, brain.  I thought we wanted sleep.  I guess it wanted more internet.