Monthly Archives: June 2011

Anime Mascot #1: Giant sword dude

Apparently people are finding my blog by searching for stuff like “giant sword” and “tentacle hentai.”  While there will be no phallic tentacles on this site, I like to give the people what they want, and parodying anime is just too easy.

May I introduce Anime Mascot #1: Giant Sword Dude
His bad attitude and drive to complete his unexplained quest is dwarfed only by his ridiculously huge sword.  It’s just way too big.  Naturally, he’s standing in a pool of blood, and scowling with his weird-colored eyes at the shiny energy/fire he can create when he gets super pissed during drawn-out fights with his arch enemy.  His hair is blue so you can tell him apart from his twin brother who we meet in season three.  His loincloth is always perfectly placed (no up-the-skirt shots for men), and the giant scar across his chest just shouts, “Don’t you dare fuck with me.  My hair is blue, and my hands shit fire.”


Game over

Sorry, everyone.  The verdict’s in.  You’ll never be as cool as Maru.

hey baby

sup


Memory serves

This afternoon, on the 40th of my 108 days of meditation, I had an epiphany; I remembered a lesson I had forgotten years ago, and what a shame I lost track of it.

When I first started training, I was so proud to be a martial artist.  Two or three years in, I still bragged about training for my black belts.  I worked hard at the dojang, and thought that just by practicing what I was taught, I was, in a small way, better than other people.

It took me a long while to figure out that I wanted to be really good at what I was doing, and that participation alone wouldn’t ensure that I would master the styles I studied.  There’s a distinct difference between a practitioner of a martial art, and a someone who is dedicated to the martial art.  All my fellow students were practitioners.  It was only because I joined the school earlier than the others that I out-ranked them.  I decided that time alone should not determine my skill level.  I had to have a hand in it.  My rank would speak less about the number of classes I had taken, and more about myself as a martial artist.  I started really paying attention, and realized my place in the world was very small.  Being a martial artist meant nothing except what I made of it.  The best I could do was to hone my own skills and become the best tool for the style that I could.

It was a difficult transition for me.  My pride, which I had cultivated and nourished for years, suddenly had no place to call home.  I silenced my heart.  My rank became meaningless; no matter what color I wore, I never felt worthy of it.  I suddenly felt no competition with my similarly ranked classmates.  I practiced silence, occasionally speaking just a handful of words in a day.  It paid off, and my form became close to perfect.  As Naruto would say, I had found “my way of the ninja.”

I’ve been meditating for ten minutes a day for 40 days, and because of that I thought I was special.  I had forgotten that my objective is mastery, not participation.  Kung Fu loosely translates to “skill” and “effort,” but even that is not enough to become a master.  Even now there is a disquieting feeling in my chest; I can feel my pride rebelling against its second  eviction in a decade.  It claims that it is no sin to be proud of my accomplishments, and yes, this is true.  But the distraction is an unnecessary obstacle.  The sense that I have achieved my goal just as I begin to learn a new style is unforgivable.  The brown sash I’ve been given will blind me if I let it.  For a second time, I must quiet my heart, and retreat to a quiet, humble place.


Where are you, car? *sniffle*

so close!

T-minus 21 days and counting to Fiat

I was given an ETA of 45 business days from when I placed my order for a brand new Fiat 500.  The only option I added to the basic model was the car alarm (which only came in a package with a better sound system and satellite radio, so I win!) and an automatic transmission.  No silly decals, no engine block heater, no “smoker’s option” (whatever that is).  Just 45 days to get an automatic with one add-on.  I’ve heard from the guy at the bank who’s helping with the whole thing that it should arrive “soon.”  The guy at the dealership said a couple weeks ago that “it should be here by the end of the month.”  I called him yesterday and he said there was “a delay.”

Two months is a long time to wait for something you’re really, really looking forward to.  It’s been 30 business days, and I’m chomping at the bit.  It’s so close I can almost feel the stitching on the steering wheel under my fingers.  No one in my family has ever owned a brand new car.  We’ve always bought used, and that makes sense financially.  I’ve had two bad experiences with cars (both American), and I’m tired of inheriting other people’s problems.  I can’t wait!  Raaaaaaagh!


Willing suspension of disbelie-OMG SO CUTE

How is anyone without my fucking powerhouse of an imagination supposed to picture this cat playing a harp without a prop?  It just goes to show that when the world gives you a kitten playing an invisible harp, you draw one in Paint.

musical genius

*click the photo to watch the hideously adorable video*


Baby X-Men

Everyone loves a good reinterpretation of their favorite characters.  Doing the X-Men as babies was just… I want to say cheating, because babies are so easy to garner positive attention for, but lil’ Magneto is just too adorably dark for words.  But why is Deadpool in there?  Whatever, he breaks the fourth wall, he’s hilarious.

it's the booties


Pigs are more equal

When I was a kid, my folks went to a white elephant party where everyone brought a horrible gift as a joke.  I went to one of these for xmas a few years back, and it has my full approval.  So silly.

I don’t know what my folks took to the party, but when they came back they had something that resembled this pig chef (but ours held something like a business card holder).  This thing sat on a bookshelf in the “computer room” just outside my parents’ bathroom for… I’m gonna say at least a decade.  They never figured out a way to get rid of it, and apparently couldn’t bear to throw it out.  It just looked so pleased with itself.  And hey look!  Now you can have your very own!

bizarre

ridiculous


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