The above is a Water Djinn from the game Guild Wars: Nightfall. The creators of Guild Wars has put out miniature pets for the player's enjoyment. These pets can be obtained by playing the game for a year. They appear in your inventory as a birthday gift and you get a random mini pet. Most of the pets are pretty common, but some, like the one above (mine), are quite rare and quite valuable. There has been a pretty big market for these mini pets in the game. You can make a lot of gold buying and selling these things. I paid about 135,000 gold for this mini Water Djinn. It took a long time to get the cash, and a long time to find a seller who would be willing to let one part for that amount of gold. They normally go for more. Some mini pets are worth millions. I got lucky.
Speaking of birthdays, mine is coming up. Tuesday marks my 24th birthday. Happy Birthday to me.
I'm not sure why I posted the picture or wrote a paragraph about that. Lack of anything better to write, I suppose. I thought the picture was cool and I guess it never hurts to talk about video games, though I guess the majority of the population that blogs would rather I write about politics or movie stars. I try to steer clear of both (with the exception of writing about my crackpot theories of conspiracy, espionage, and World War III) because, well, who cars? Politics are important, yes, but it can so irritating at times. I grow so tired of seeing the campaigns on TV, on billboards, and on cardboard signs stuck in my front yard.
As for the movie stars... I grow so sick and tired of hearing about movie stars. Who cares about Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or any other filthy, STD-ridden whore that can't drive seem to go more than a few days without landing themselves in jail or having a photo snapped of their uncovered nether regions. Who cares? Why does anyone care about movie stars for that matter? You can like their work, you can like the movies they are in, you can even be star struck when you see one of them, but why... why do we care what they do on a daily basis? Why do we care what Tom Cruise does on a Saturday morning? Why do we care when Jessica Simpson uses the ladies' room on Friday night? Why do we care? Why are we so concerned with the personal lives of other people? It's called a "personal" life for a reason. It is supposed to be that.
Why would I waste my time writing about something millions of other people have already blogged about anyway? I keep my blog limited to my own life. It might not be interesting, but at least it is something that not everyone knows about. It is me. My personal thoughts and views. That is why I don't conform to the standards of a star-crazed society. I apologize to anyone who might read this and expect great and wonderful things. I am not a writer. I do not lead an interesting life. What I write comes from a dirty shelf in a dark, dusty closet lodged deep into the recesses of my brain. It also comes as I go. I make half of it up as I go. In the case of this blog, I made it ALL up as I went along, starting from the first word.
Wow. Not sure where that came from. Not sure bearing it had on anything. I told you I made things up as I go. I rarely stay on one topic for long.
My girlfriend of - hm, let's see... 10 months? Sounds right - 10 months broke up with me today. That always makes for a good day, hm? Not fun. That's all I'll say on the subject. I hate sappy, mushy "I'm sorry, let's talk about it" stuff afterwards. What difference does it make?
Any ladies out there? Hello? I'm not as horribly cynical and pessimistic as my blog may make me seem. Really.
Anyway, my mini vacation is over. I go back to work tomorrow after 4 days off for the Thanksgiving holiday. Not looking forward to it. Work has gotten quite unfun lately. My boss is being a bit.... ornery, I suppose the right word would be. She seems to have a constant thumb up her rear. Not sure if it's because the end of the year is looming just over the horizon or if it's a natural thing. I'm leaning toward the latter. Females tend to get stuck on a certain setting and stay there for a while. I shall remain in my little cubicle in the corner, not say anything, do my job, and leave. Better to slip in and out unnoticed.
Speaking of birthdays, mine is coming up. Tuesday marks my 24th birthday. Happy Birthday to me.
I'm not sure why I posted the picture or wrote a paragraph about that. Lack of anything better to write, I suppose. I thought the picture was cool and I guess it never hurts to talk about video games, though I guess the majority of the population that blogs would rather I write about politics or movie stars. I try to steer clear of both (with the exception of writing about my crackpot theories of conspiracy, espionage, and World War III) because, well, who cars? Politics are important, yes, but it can so irritating at times. I grow so tired of seeing the campaigns on TV, on billboards, and on cardboard signs stuck in my front yard.
As for the movie stars... I grow so sick and tired of hearing about movie stars. Who cares about Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or any other filthy, STD-ridden whore that can't drive seem to go more than a few days without landing themselves in jail or having a photo snapped of their uncovered nether regions. Who cares? Why does anyone care about movie stars for that matter? You can like their work, you can like the movies they are in, you can even be star struck when you see one of them, but why... why do we care what they do on a daily basis? Why do we care what Tom Cruise does on a Saturday morning? Why do we care when Jessica Simpson uses the ladies' room on Friday night? Why do we care? Why are we so concerned with the personal lives of other people? It's called a "personal" life for a reason. It is supposed to be that.
Why would I waste my time writing about something millions of other people have already blogged about anyway? I keep my blog limited to my own life. It might not be interesting, but at least it is something that not everyone knows about. It is me. My personal thoughts and views. That is why I don't conform to the standards of a star-crazed society. I apologize to anyone who might read this and expect great and wonderful things. I am not a writer. I do not lead an interesting life. What I write comes from a dirty shelf in a dark, dusty closet lodged deep into the recesses of my brain. It also comes as I go. I make half of it up as I go. In the case of this blog, I made it ALL up as I went along, starting from the first word.
Wow. Not sure where that came from. Not sure bearing it had on anything. I told you I made things up as I go. I rarely stay on one topic for long.
My girlfriend of - hm, let's see... 10 months? Sounds right - 10 months broke up with me today. That always makes for a good day, hm? Not fun. That's all I'll say on the subject. I hate sappy, mushy "I'm sorry, let's talk about it" stuff afterwards. What difference does it make?
Any ladies out there? Hello? I'm not as horribly cynical and pessimistic as my blog may make me seem. Really.
Anyway, my mini vacation is over. I go back to work tomorrow after 4 days off for the Thanksgiving holiday. Not looking forward to it. Work has gotten quite unfun lately. My boss is being a bit.... ornery, I suppose the right word would be. She seems to have a constant thumb up her rear. Not sure if it's because the end of the year is looming just over the horizon or if it's a natural thing. I'm leaning toward the latter. Females tend to get stuck on a certain setting and stay there for a while. I shall remain in my little cubicle in the corner, not say anything, do my job, and leave. Better to slip in and out unnoticed.
I watched a movie today. Enemy at the Gates. A good World War II movie. I enjoyed it quite thoroughly. My brother loaned it to me and said it was good. He was right. I like WWII movies, for the most part. Saving Private Ryan, Enemy at the Gates, and... gosh, there was another one he let me watch a while back, but I can't remember the name of it. Had a Christian sniper, an athiest medic, a British pilot, and a bunch of guys getting killed. All I remember is that the sniper's nickname was Deacon. Can't remember the name. Oh, well. My brother will tell me.
That is all! I've posted a bit lately. My last three posts, including this one, are new, more or less, so regular readers, don't stop here. Continue reading.... or I'll come find you.
No comments:
Post a Comment