Been enjoying my second incarnation in Fallout 76.
Amazing that it is still a game I can play for hours without getting bored. That’s just how fun and packed with content the game is.
The fact that technically, I have done all these plotlines before makes remarkably little difference. Sure, I remember doing these things before, but in no great detail and not in a way that keeps me from enjoying myself.
Started out as a melee only character but that got old so now I am all about my glorious, wonderful, zombie blasting shotgun.
There is a simple, atavistic joy in blowing away zombies with a shotgun. Especially if you can take them down with one shot, and I often can as long as they are close enough and I hit them dead center.
It’s well worth the effort. Chik-chik KABLAM, baby!
Feeling kinda sleepy and slow today. Must be catching up on sleep, which is a touch ironic because I was thinking about taking my sleeping pill, Quetiapine, today so I could do that very thing.
I guess just the thought of it was enough to trigger the desired response.
So today has been quite the sleepy day. Oh well, it’s not like I had hot plans or was going to accomplish anything important today.
The sad truth is that getting caught up on sleep might be the most productive thing I have done in a long time.
Not that I should be judging myself for being unproductive. I’m a very sick man, after all. Officially, all society expects of me is for me to do my best to get well.
Not that I do that either. That would cut into my precious video game!
Then again, so would dying.
But I don’t judge myself for my lack of productivity based on some feeling that I am somehow letting society down and failing in my duties as a citizen in life.
It’s because I want to be productive. I want to make things and do things and get something meaningful out of my time.
But this fucking mental illness gets in the way. I want so badly to shed it like a snake sheds its skin and be free to lead a healthier, happier life.
Instead, I am tangled up in all this mental garbage and stuck in a life that does not make me happy and that is leading me directly to an early death.
I keep coming back to this idea that I need some sort of source of inspiration and renewal. Some harmonious wellspring of warm, loving, healthy energy that can fill the wounds in my soul and help them heal. Something I can draw on besides my usual insufficient energies so I can finally be healthy and happy and strong.
Dunno where to get something like that. Faith? A lover I can rely on? Aliens?
I might just have to invent it myself. Build my own power reactor from the junk I have lying around in my soul.
Anything to fix myself and let me be the brilliant shiny star I was always meant to be.
More after the break.
Something quite beautiful
What a simple and wonderful treat for all assembled.
Julian, please show it to Joe!
I was a little miffed that he changed the lyrics at first but got over it almost instantly because he sang so beautifully.
Plus, he really didn’t have a choice. I can see that now.
The original lyrics are…. well, not everyone’s idea of religion, let’s say.
Of course, my favorite version is still this one ;
Just had to share that with y’all.
Good for the soul
Take one of the most talented comedians alive today and add one of the most reliably explosive forms of comedy known to humanity, and you get this :
Peter Kay blows my mind. His timing and delivery are always flawless. He nails every punchline, his jokes always have the simplest and most accessible phrasing and structure, and his every-bloke persona is pure gold.
And god damn it, misheard lyrics are ALWAYS funny!
Yet more fuckery
What the everloving goddamned perpetual fuck, universe?
Why is everything going wrong lately?
So I order some stuff from 7-11 tonight, like I often do.
Ordered my usual three 2L bottles of Diet Coke to see me through till I go shopping on Sunday. plus a chicken salad sandwich and a corn dog for supper.
My order arrives, I wait the customary five minutes before going to get it, and then discover that what I actually got was six 1L bottles of Coke Zero, 2 large bags of store-brand Jalapeno and Cheese nacho chips, and 2 bags of dried mango slices.
Clearly I got someone else’s order. God dammit.
So now It’s up to ME to report this to DoorDash and get it all sorted out.
And of course, there is no “I got the wrong order” option in their problem reporting menu. I just knew that would be the case.
Apparently, nobody at DD thought of that issue. Idiots.
So I have to contact live (text-based, thank God) chat and explain it to them.
When I do, I am offered either money back or redelivery. Usually, I go for money back in the form of DoorDash credit as that’s instant and I order via them all the time.
But I still need that Diet Coke, god damn it.
So I opt for redelivery. Someone will come get the wrong order and deliver the right one soon. Meanwhile, I made and am eating my usual sort of meal.
No way was I waiting for the redelivery. I was too damned hungry.
Redelivery had occurred. The right order is here and the wrong order is gone.
I sincerely hope the two stoners who ordered that stuff finally get the snacks their munchies so badly needed.
The DoorDash deliverer was some old Chinese dude. He apologized in an “oops, sorry for this wacky mixup, ha-ha!” tone.
I rather curtly told him to forget about it.
See, because his fuckup involved both my food (and me being hungry!) and my money, it was not Patient Tolerant Sweetheart Fru who answered the door.
It was Grumpy Pissed Off Taurus Fru, and he’s way less nice than my usual self.
Whatever. It’s over now, and all it cost me was a fuckton of aggravation.
Why does life hate me?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.