It's always better the second day.

Comment below and I will tell you which of your characters that I've played against are my favorites and why I love them.

ALSO WTF GWEN IS IN A TV SERIES
http://www.daemonstv.com/2010/04/16/usa-networks-covert-affairs-preview-with-piper-perabo/

Okay, does anybody have Thunderbird? I set it up to download messages from my Gmail account, but it's only downloading messages in my inbox. Is there a way to configure it to download messages in "all mail" and "drafts" and etc?

I love my mother. She's done some pretty amazing things for me. I have no doubt that her intentions are good and that she means well. But she drives me UP THE FUCKING WALL sometimes.

My Pekingese is high-maintenance. He has major allergy issues. He has to be coned when he's not being supervised because he will bite himself bloody. He has to have allergy shots once a week. He has to take oral steroids twice a day. He has to eat a very special canned diet that consists of fish-and-potato, because chicken and beef will make him itch so horribly that he'll scratch and bite himself until there are lesions all over his entire body. Before we figured out what was wrong with him, I, the least domestic girl on earth, pricked my fingers sewing a makeshift cover for his body out of an old t-shirt so he couldn't get at himself. I found him little booties for his feet so he couldn't scratch himself. I am constantly monitoring him to measure his level of itchiness and adjust his medication accordingly. I am constantly coning him if I know he won't be supervised for more than an hour, because god knows my parents can't be trusted to cone him reliably. When we had a faulty screen door, I had to campaign to put up a metal fence around it so he couldn't push it open and get hit by a car. Because his breed is prone to overheating, I have to make sure he's not outside on a warm day for more than a half hour and that he has water even for that short time. One time my mom let him out too long and I had to wipe his face with a cold washcloth to cool him down from the brink of heat stroke. Every second of every day that I am in my house, I am aware of where my dog is, how he's doing, and what, if anything, I need to do to make him feel better.

I don't expect praise for this. He's my dog. It's what I'm supposed to do. What I do expect is not to have to deal with my mother shoving her nose in it. I feed him when he will eat. Period. At this point in time, he will eat at 7am and 9pm. If you try to feed him earlier or later than those times, he's either too excited or tired to be interested. He eats at these times without fail. He is the correct weight, to the ounce. If he has an outbreak, it will be handled within minutes. And yet, she has the fucking NERVE to lounge on the sofa and go "did Grissom get fed?" Or, worse yet, "Aww, Grissom, I know you're hungry," in a faux-sweet, passive-aggressive voice that makes me want to smack her. I have to smile politely and say "No, mother, it isn't 9 yet," because I know from, oh, I don't know, TWO YEARS of this that if I take him into the kitchen at 7 or 8pm, he'll lie on the floor and ignore the food. The constant bullshit guilt-tripping is annoying as hell, but I've put up with it.

I will not put up with what happened tonight, however. I will not be told that I'm "making a mistake" by feeding him at a time that SHE doesn't think makes "sense." I will not have my behavior governed by someone who whines "Honey, will you feed Yuri?" half the time to my DAD when it's time for my other dog to be fed, because she's too lazy to do it her fucking self. I will not answer to "I don't think he likes the food" because he won't eat it at the hour of the day that SHE thinks a dog should/would. I will not defend myself against baseless accusations that I'm doing anything less than my very best to secure the welfare and happiness of my dog, from someone whose role in his life is to play with him and occasionally take him to the vet if there's something serious.

Back. The Fuck. Off. On what planet do you have any right to say anything about it?

FIVE COOL POINTS TO ANYBODY WHO ASKS bollinger TO MAKE ME A BW DEATH BINGO CARD.

Pretty please with frosting on top? There is nowhere to comment in her journal.

Identifying a song you heard on Mexican radio without knowing Spanish is hard, just sayin'. BUT I FIGURED IT OUT.

THANK YOU FOR THE HAPPY BIRTHDAY WISHES, EVERYBODY. P.S., CHECK OUT MY ICON MADE FROM EM'S DRAWING. ^

Also, I got an iPod Touch, WIN.

Oh, World Cup. Why have you disappointed me so? I kind of like Spain just because of the abundance of La Liga players, but otherwise I'm only semi-interested and I'm fairly unimpressed overall. 2006 was chaotic, but it was also epic. I was glued to my television set long after my first and second teams had been eliminated, because the quality and enthusiasm of play was there for just about every team in the quarters. I used to scoff at people who said the Champions' League was better than the World Cup, but most of the major stars' failure to reach their club level performance is swaying me more and more toward that mindset. It's arguably a better measure of individual/team ability, since international qualifiers/friendlies are sandwiched in between league games, conference games, Champions League games, and club training sessions. I don't know if the tides are changing, but I can't wait for August/Septemberrrrrr.

ADVICE, PLZ.

Does anyone else ever get personally depressed/upset when someone or something you like is criticized by random people? Okay, that's kind of vague. I mean things like: watching your favorite television character get torn to shreds in the fandom; reading scathing articles about a public figure that you admire; listening to people denigrate a hobby. I don't mean being personally attacked so much as becoming distressed when you happen upon other people's negative opinions about something or someone you're passionate about. I have a long-standing problem with this. I'll get into a fandom, or grow fond of a celebrity, or discover a new passion, and then have the misfortune of stumbling upon people slandering whatever/whoever it is that I'm really interested in. Knowing that that negativity exists really bothers me, and yet sometimes I self-destructively Google "I hate (x)" because I don't want to live in willful ignorance. Logically, I know that caring so much about what strangers think about those kinds of things is silly, but reason doesn't stop me from feeling that way.

Have any of you ever been upset over something like that before? If so, how have you gotten over it?

So, my parents are considering driving me to L.A. for the L.A. Galaxy/Real Madrid game.

Oh man, that was a fantastic game. In the end, Spain was the better team, but Portugal sure as hell made them work for it. And I just have to say: as freely as I admit that Ronaldo is light as a feather and mock him for his diving, he's played incredibly cleanly this entire tournament. I understand that his reputation in that respect precedes him, but that's no excuse for not calling legitimate fouls - or for the yellow card he received a couple of games ago on a "dive" that just about every announcer in the world judged as an unfair tackle. He was tackled poorly three times this game, and while those infractions weren't yellow cards or game-deciders in and of themselves, they still should have been recognized. The fair approach to refereeing an athlete who has a history of dramatics is to call it like it is, not give his opponents an open license to foul them to their heart's content. A referee's job is to officiate, not retaliate.

I don't know if he'll return to his former diving "glory" after the tournament, but for the last two weeks, he's played it clean, and he deserved to be rewarded with fairer referring.

Then again, this tournament hasn't exactly been the epitome of fair officiating in any respect. Let's hope that some good comes of FIFA re-opening the discussion on video replays.

All in all, though, brilliant match. And god damned, Eduardo, you are a gymnast.

BRB HAVING MINOR SURGERY

Edit: Which I was totally "LOL, psssh, it's nasal, it's minor, it's out-patient" about until the Emu Xing sign thumbtacked to my bedroom door fell down and I spent 20 minutes and a roll of duct tape putting back up, lest the emu's demise be a premonition of my own.

... Yeah, time for bed. >>

I was going to link the video of Diego Maradona jumping onto an assistant coach's waist tonight, but since YouTube has failed me, I'll link to...
( THE BEST SOCCER COACH CELEBRATION EVER. )

HOLY SHIT, PORTUGAL, THAT WAS ONE AMAZING GAME. And I've gotta say, Ronaldo: for all of your drama queen diving in the past, that was A+ unselfish play, boy. You can wear your tiara proudly, bb.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Good times for a change See, the luck I've had Can make a good man Turn bad So please please please Let me, let me, let me Let me get what I want This time

I'd just like to point out that I had this 4 years ago when nobody gave a fuck:

( Re: Argentina/Nigeria )

Also, Alya: I'm sorry Antarctica doesn't have a team.

Hello again OOC journal!

I CALLED AMERICAN IDOL WEEKS AGO. THAT'S ALL I'M GONNA SAY.

I can only assume this is the result of people at BW trying to figure out a house/blood pattern, Heroes 1x09, and reading the summary for Knowing with Nicolas Cage last night.

I just had a bizarre dream where students at BW were being habitually murdered by other students, as revealed on a chart with the initials of the killer, victim, and reason. Except it was this bizarre series of revenge-based murders (e.g., X kills Y because they knowingly slept with X's boyfriend) that were collaborative, but committed independently. There was a group of students trying to solve the murders by looking at the incomplete chart and saying "okay, whose middle initial is G that had a beef with somebody named E." But even when they figured out everyone who was responsible for the deaths, they didn't have enough concrete evidence to prove it to the police. So they murderers had an opportunity to retaliate; the final act was that all the detective-y students had been locked in the gym, where they'd been putting the pieces together and investigating. They were unknowingly positioned in the scenarios of their imminent deaths, where the murderer who'd been found out had a chance to off the group who'd revealed it. Except only about half of them were killed; the other half were convinced they were going to die and then didn't. The last group had Gwen in it and the murderer was Rodolphus. I don't remember who he killed or why, but he compelled all of the people who'd found it out to voluntarily put their heads in nooses, or else he'd set off a bomb that would kill everyone. And then they did, because they didn't want to doom the others needlessly, but it turned out that it was a trick and that the nooses weren't real, because by willingly accepting their fates, they somehow earned his respect and therefore the right to live.

... Yeah, I don't even know.