Friday, December 23, 2005

   You'll never believe me...
Last night I was putting things away in my bathroom, and I started sorting out my stage-makeup kit. I put a few containers on the counter, and one of them tipped over.

I had an accident. Involving sparkles.

Now there are sparkles all over my bathroom, in my hair, on my socks, everywhere.

I keep turning around quickly to make sure no one's trying to hug me.

=^..^=


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Wednesday, December 21, 2005

   Nya.
...nya nya nyaaaa...

Blearg.
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Tuesday, December 20, 2005

   It's 3 a.m.
This was a lot like doing a jigsaw puzzle.

I wonder if you can get Saiyuki jigsaw puzzles? Chocolate ones?

... business plan, anyone?

Plus... they looked lonely in the original pics. Now at least they can make faces at each other.

In fact, they all need a friend...
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Sunday, December 18, 2005

Regarding Obsessions.
I know where Sanzo was getting his kitten crack from. That place was here.

That's just too cute...


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Friday, December 16, 2005

   It's 2 a.m. and I have a question...
When I collect mushrooms, I'm going mushrooming. When you go to catch fish it's called fishing. When my cat catches a furry squeaker, she is mousing. Why is it, when you go to catch ducks, it isn't called ducking?

Kids: Never grow up. When you're an adult, your mum won't appreciate you calling her in the middle of the night to ask even important questions like these.
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Thursday, December 15, 2005

   When Chibis Attack! Part 23
Previous prevarications are here.

Part 23: In Which Shocking Escalates


The door is safely closed.

Turn, and yank completely blissful Kougaiji out of my sweater. Good thing that I always wear a shirt underneath; bad thing that I still have a house-full of little lunatics. Speaking of which:





Gojyo and Sanzo are peering around the corner in that peculiar one-head-above-the-other way that makes you wonder how the bodies behind the wall are arranged.

"What?" Glare at them. Try to put Kougaiji down. Cannot put Kougaiji down. He's once again wuvingly attached, and now extremely staticky. Note to self: Poly-cotton shirt, wool sweater and chibi-fluff creates massive electro-static buildup. I doubt that any of that power could be harvested for anything useful. Producing anything useful would be patently anti-chibi.

"Nothing," chorus the two Unattached Trouble Generators. They wander off in separate directions, whistling different tunes, one of which is 'It's a Small World'.

Suspicious. Yet cute.





"I'm done with the pastry, you can turn the heat on again." Hakkai appears in the hallway, white with flour from head to toe.

The monochrome nature of this chibi distracts me from the suspiciousness of the others. My brain momentarily out-of-order, my body goes ahead on its own and holds Kougaiji out above Hakkai. Particles of flour fountain upward onto the Staticky Clinger.

"Well, isn't that fascinating..." Hakkai muses, shaking his clothes and watching the flour rise up. "How would you like to help me clean up the kitchen, Kougaiji?"

"I'm busy." Vital matters of state, no doubt.

"I'll give you a cookie."




Random blue sparks shoot out as Kougaiji's little, round feet hit the floor. Watching him follow Hakkai out into the kitchen, I can't help wondering if this counts as a Power Up.



First Things First: Heat!

... then possibly more booze.







Time flies when you're having fun.

It also flies when your perceptions of reality are a little hazy. Or, maybe it's not flying, maybe you just think it flew because you can't remember how long it really took.

All the same, it seems like moments after I return to avoiding work that Gojyo and Goku start tearing apart my Youkai-Hakkai ravaged chair in search of the spare change within. They fight over the coins they find, then they fight with the coins, flinging them at each other with stinging speed.

One missed shot nearly hits the back of my head. I am aware of this only because the heat of Kougaiji's hook-shot fireball from around the kitchen corner slightly singes my hair after it melts the coin in mid-flight.

I hate the smell of my hair burning. That's just one more reason why I prefer to drink alone.

"Aw, man! That was a quarter!"





The kitchen, unlike my hair, smells delightful. It's the kind of smell that draws you in; as if your nose has told your eyes they've got to see this, so let's bag the brain and drag it in there.

Ostensibly, I go to refill my glass.




Open Fridge, Glass in Hand.

"It's nearly ready, so don't spoil your appetite." Hakkai has the oven door open, a little welding mask covering his face. He hauls on a rope, and incomprehensible wires, pulleys and winches sway the puff pastry out onto a waiting rack.

Some kind of savory pie? Pie for dinner, not just dessert?

Fill glass... halfway. Conserve taste buds for pie.

It's not like I can't come back for more. After all, the bottle's still too heavy for Gojyo to pour.



Small, desperately hungry hands efficiently set the table. Proficient mouths consume inhuman quantities of food. Inquisitive minds ask, "What's for desert?"

And get wapped on the head with a brand new paper fan.

"Nothing if you knock me again, goddamn monkey!"




It's not pie. You see, we had pie for dinner: tasty, filling, savory pie. We can't have pie for dessert as well; there's some kind of cosmic rule about that. No, dessert is some kind of crumble. Maybe even better than pie, if that's feasible. I shall need a larger sample to do further studies on.

Disproportionately fat stomachs protrude from already round chibi waistlines. I wonder about chibi cholesterol and how the Heimlich Maneuver is done on something so small.

Thankfully, such expertise is not necessary. These are experienced eaters; professional, almost. I suppose it's a matter of knowing how to pack it.

Or... maybe it goes to that place they pull things out of? Where it turns into other things. Things like flowers...

Those chrysanthemums are holding up beautifully, especially since Goku discovered that they weren't edible.




"Another piece?"

Desperately try to convince my stomach of the benefits of more. Stomach counters with an ugly picture of Death from Dessert Overdose. Self-control is reluctantly enforced.

"Couldn't eat another bite, thank you. I could sleep right here..."

"Oh, you're very welcome." Hakkai hands the remaining slice to Goku, who celebrates his gluttonous victory then digs in. "I suppose we should find a way to amuse ourselves quietly, if you're tired." Hakkai says this so ordinarily, when it can really be only slightly easier than performing brain surgery with ones tongue while humming 'Louie Louie'.



"We could play cards. It's been a while since Hakkai took all our money." Gojyo sounds surprisingly happy about this. Hakkai does seem to use that money to finance his cookie baking activities, so I suppose it's not all bad for the losers. "Pack of cards anywhere?" Apparently this prop is essential enough to make it impossible to pull it from behind ones back. Or it could be that they just like making me hunt for stuff. Either way...

"Y..." My mind involuntarily flashes back to my last occasion of forced child-minding at the bidding of distant, yet fertile, kin. Thanks to the dear hellspawn's paper eating/flushing/otherwise-abusing habits, my deck has 27 cards. No sixes. None at all.

"No. Sorry." Sorry I ever let the little buggers through the door. Or their parents, for that matter.



Contemplative, even ruminant, looks surround my table. "Mahjong tiles would be right out then, I suppose." Hakkai ventures with hardly a glimmer of hope.

The heavens alone know what they would have done to my house with plastic or porcelain in their juvenile armory. "Uh, no."



The air above the table takes on an odd, sparkly aura. My prescient brain suggests running, but my over-fed stomach overrides this command by sitting heavily above my... center of gravity.

The Lightning of Cute strikes Goku.

"You could read us a story!"



Everyone stares at him, then quickly looks away to gaze uncomfortably at the ceiling, walls, crumbs, etc. Except for Permanently Cutified Kougaiji who just picks his incongruously pointy teeth as if this made perfect Chibi Sense.

"Um... yes. I suppose she could..." Hakkai eventually breaks the fidgety silence.

"Maybe..." Gojyo mumbles, examining his fork.

"That's a little... out of character, isn't it?" My nervous laugh sounds painful even to me, as I try to weasel out of public speaking like... a weasel... in a weasel trap.



"Well, Sanzo does read his Sutra quite often." Hakkai reasons.

"To kill stuff, yes." I try to discount this evidence. I mean, does that really count as entertainment? Should it?

"And the paper. Sometimes we get a piece of it once Sanzo's done with it. It's got... pictures. And personal ads." Gojyo rationalizes, qualifies and distracts.

"It'll be great!" Goku has now fully earthed the chibi-lightning, attaining to unheard of sparkliness. "We can all sit on the couch, and you can read to us. Maybe even mrrfghh!"

Gojyo tries to save Goku from his own cuteness by stuffing him into an empty pot and putting the lid on it.

"Don't mention cuddles! Don't even think about cuddles!"




My eye twitches. "Excuse me." Must get to fridge. More rum. Now.

There is a rumbling from Extra-Happy-Buddha-Shaped Sanzo. He had been quietly contemplating the true meaning of dessert, but now he brings forth a comment on the current situation.

"I get to pick the book."

As sparkly and blurry eyes all focus, or attempt to focus, on the unexpected monking, Goku's voice echoes from inside the pot: "It'll be great!"



There's no helping it. I'm going to need a full glass. And maybe refills.



Youkai-Hakkai ravaged the chair in Chapter 11. Yea, verily, it was cute, but he didn't have a pattern of hearts and stars all over him instead of leaves as Kanan the Mischievous Goat suggested. That would have been very cute indeed.

The flowers arrived here.

I'm using more continuity lately. That's because I've got a plot all ready to go, and I don't want to spring that kind of mental exercise on you without a run-up.


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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

   Branchin' Out...
Don't worry, this won't interfere with your regular chibi-infusions.

I like King of Bandit Jing... and not just because every single character is named after an alcoholic beverage, including the main "attack", Kir Royale (champagne and raspberry liquere).

Wheee!
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Sunday, December 4, 2005

I do not eat people.
All reports of me eating people are highly exaggerated. Eating people is simply not something I do.

Now hold this onion and sit still for... oh, half an hour. It may get a little warm in here.


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Thursday, December 1, 2005

   Gastrointestinal Distress
...would be a great name for a band.


Learned something new today! Apparently, when one gets the flu and it gets bad enough, one's liver can become inflamed. According to my doctor, this produces an "irrepressible nauseau reflex." Or something like that, I wasn't particulary paying attention. I was more interested in not throwing up on said doctor.

So, he gives me a shot of anti-nauseant... And, you know, I'm a twig to begin with, and after three straight days of sleeping on the bathroom floor, I'm getting a little twiggier... So you know it's got to be a shot in the butt. That's the only part of me with enough meat to stick a needle in and not hit bone.

Then there's a trainee nurse there, and he's explaining to her how to give a shot painlessly. And I'm thinking, "Shot? Hmmm... I wonder if anyone's ever tried mixing rehydration salts with beer?"

But, you know, the liver thing. Best not to, I figure.

Anyway, it was all very informative. If nothing else, I've learned that my trousers have gotten so loose that I don't have to take them off to get a shot in the butt. Curse my incredible shrinking body!

Oh, and I also learned that a shot of gravol makes me high. Sweet Mother o' Mercy, am I ever high. Hmmm... maybe it's the codiene, too. Or the dehydration?

So, don't worry about me, I'm fine. Maybe even a little too fine.



Which brings me to another point.

(This is going to be a random, rambling post because, as I have already stated, I am definitly high.)

My mother is a larger lady. My brother is a larger guy. This is fine, they're healthy, I don't even think about it until I go shopping with my Mum.

There is a certain chain of clothing shops for larger women, several chains really, that we go to when Mum needs new clothes. I've got a good eye for color and shape, so Mum likes me to come along. Whenever I go in to one of these shops, however, I get the Look.

It's very uncomfortable, to be surrounded by women who are all staring at me as I pick clothes off the rack and check pricetags. The salespeople won't help me. They just glare, as if they are mentally inflating me to epic proportions.

I know it's probably just my perceptions, and I don't hold it against them. There's a lot of predjudice against people based on the way they look. But therin lies the problem: They're doing to me what they hate other people doing to them. I want to stare back and say, 'Hey! I'm only skinny because I'm sick! Even if you're self-concious about your body image, at least you don't have to show your naked ass to medical students who will take pictures and observe you without even a hint of finding your attractive.'

I think that's the part that gets me. There's got to be a tonne of young, attractive men looking at pictures of me naked and having No Reaction at All. How completely irritating.

Tsk,tsk.

Man, I must be off my rocker... I'm complaining about people not staring at me.

Beer and re-hydration salts? Good thing I won't be concious much longer. This kind of thinking can only lead to home improvements and carpentry...


Oooo! Look! A kitten!

Wheeee!

=^o.O^=
happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy!
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Monday, November 28, 2005

   When Chibis Attack! Part 22
Previous Chapters here. Sweet like candy!


Part 22: In Which Something is Shocking


Close second folder, toss onto the Good Enough pile. This kind of productivity has to be a personal record.

Better go get some coffee from the helpful hallucination in my kitchen. My fingers are freezing, I could use the warm up.

It is cold in here! I can tell because...




Kougaiji is sitting on the floor, staring up at me. He's wearing a black and white, down-filled parka.

"Why the hell is it so cold in here?" I ask the wall, in a loud voice.

"I'm making pastry, so I shut off the heat. It'll warm up in here soon enough; I've got the oven on." The wall answers in a suspiciously In Charge voice. The wall's not the boss of me! I give the wall a piece of my mind:

"Don't just do stuff like that without asking!"

He looks like a soccer ball.




Hakkai-Beyond-the-Wall might have made an intelligent reply to my rejoinder. I just wasn't listening. This is because the Prince of the West is as wide as he is high, so stuffed with down that he's round, and covered with black and white checkers.

Soccer ball.

Soccer ball, staring lovingly back at me.

Soccer ball, squeaking, "I wuv you!" as I stand and step toward it.



I used to love playing soccer. I was even on a community team once; it was great. Now, for the perfect kick, you see, you pull your leg back like this, and...



There is a knocking, knocking at my front door.

Loud. Persistent. Authoritative, perhaps.



Glance down at Soc... Kougaiji.

"Scat. I have to get the door."

Little arms stuck straight out to the sides, he tries to lever himself up. Rolls over onto his back, instead.

"Hewp!"



Dammit. Too cu...

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

"Coming!" Goalie-grab over-stuffed chibi. Where can I hide it?

Knock! Knock!

"Sorry, just a sec!"




Stuff chibi under sweater, cursing the apparent ineffectiveness of my DoorNotBell. So much for that Nobel Prize in Home Peace Technology.

Open door a crack and peer out.




Policeman.




Quick mental archive check: Have I done anything illegal lately? Quasi-legal? I haven't had time to download any music, and I'm sure it's still legal to be drunk in your own home...

"Hello there, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite alright, officer." The chibis are hiding right? They're smart enough to hide. Sure they are.

"Do you know you have a broken doorbell, ma'am? Have you had trouble with vandals?"

"Oh, no. Just doing some home improvements. How can I help you, sir?"

"Well, it's just a bit of an inquiry, ma'am. Asking the public's help in an investigation."

"Oh?" The officer keeps moving towards the door, opening it a little with each word. Those chibis had better be hiding, or he can take them away to some cute little cells, for all I care...




"You heard the 7-11 was knocked over last night?" He asks. In my surprise, I let the door open all the way. Suddenly, he's infinitely more friendly, though I can't figure why. Maybe he likes my choice of carpet.

"No. Really? Again? Poor Mr. Clerk. Is he alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

"Gee, that's too bad. I mean, good! I mean, good that he's not hurt; bad that they robbed..."

"Yes, ma'am. So, do you have any kids here? Besides the one on the way."

On the way to what? "Uh. No. No kids."

Various relatives have, on occasion, forced me to watch their sugar-maddened spawn, generally when all the local babysitters have fled their area. These brief interactions with the Fascist Dictators of Tomorrow have convinced me thoroughly of the benefits of not breeding.




"Didn't really think so," the policeman continues. "Still, we have to ask. You see, Mr. Clerk keeps insisting that he was taken down by a pair of toddlers."

"Toddlers?" They... toddled up and hit him? I mean, I know they can be vicious, but...

"You know, little kids. Really little, according to him. But, to be honest..." Mr.Policeman leans conspiratorially closer. "I think he might have been nipping into the juice a little that night, if you understand.

"Oh, yes. I understand." ...So very well indeed.

"Working a job like that, a guy gets bored. Maybe he drinks a little to help the time pass..." He continues, as if this observation was Top Secret.

"Mm-hmm." Or, perhaps he drinks to make his hallucinations stop. I wonder if Mr. Clerk has a Chibi Problem? If he does, I truly share his pain.



"So, here we have this order to interview preschoolers, ask if they or their friends have beaten up any grown-ups and stolen their cigarettes lately. I tell you, it's making us all feel a little silly."

"I bet." Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It could well be that I've seen so much silliness in the last few days that silly things seem normal.

"Anyway, if you hear anything about the robbery, call this number. Okay?" A card. Number for Sgt. P. Mann.

"Will do."

"But don't go worrying yourself over it. You should take it easy. When's the baby due, anyway?"

Huh? Due? In the mail?

Glance at my feet to see if they heard him more clearly than my ears did.

Can't see my feet.



Fight sudden urges to run, throw up, scream, and have sterilization surgery.

Soccer ball in sweater. I mean, chibi in...

Chibi who thinks I'm his...

It's so hard to self-censor at times like this.




"Any minute now." I smile brightly to hide the grimace of disgust invading my face.

"Really? Well, I'm sure that will be a relief."

"You have no idea."

"Ha ha, I suppose it'll be 'Mom,' not 'ma'am' then, hey?"

And thankfully he leaves, laughing at his little joke.

I'm glad he's gone.

Assaulting an Officer carries a hefty jail term. If I'm going to live in a cell, I'd prefer a padded one.



Team Sparkle will be playing Team Glitter Glue in the next Saccharine Cup game. Winners will go on to the Final!

Next Time: Rebirth!
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