Randomness Out-of-the-Blue

...so... I am lazy, and have not been posting here. Because, again, lazy. And many of my musings lately have been posted over on the looming menace that is the FB.

However, as amusing as it is to find out that FB users were the subjects of psychological experimentation and willful emotional experimentation without informed consent, the incident has also caused a slight blip of mild discontent in my weary, wary soul.

And I know of at least one person who might need stuff to read and poke fun at, who does not use FB.

*waves*

In any case, I played Final Fantasy XIV for a bit. And it was fun and entertaining, but I have found recently that, not only am I now lazy, I am old, and get tired easy, and don't have as much energy to game 8 hours straight at the computer after putting in a full 8 hours of work in front of the computer anymore. So, MMORPGs are kinda too taxing right now, and so I am not playing the game anymore. But it was fun, and I did RP a tiny healer (I'm sure surprising no one who knew me in Final Fantasy XI back in the day) fully.

(No, Talathar the Lalafel did NOT have a tarutaru accent. I did not carry that part over. The people of Eorzea were not subjected to that. Except a few choice people, OOCly.)

Talathar the Lalafel was my only character to earn her own personal chocobo. You can actually name your chocobos in FFXIV. And, just as in FFXI, chocos scale to your character's size (Hallo?? Blizzard?? Ya see this right here! MOUNTS THAT SCALE TO  YOUR CHARACTER'S SIZE?? Would be nice in that old game ya still got going... my gnome looking like she was about to fall off her gryphon into the nether void was always annoying to me...)

-ahem-

Sorry, momentary distraction...

ANYways, so Talathar the Lalafel named her chocobo. His name was Stalwart Soul. Stalwart for short. Stal for when Tala was shouting at him. Which happened a lot. Because Stalwart was roleplayed as well -- as a brave, loyal, somewhat bratty, independent-minded choco with a slight complex about his height deficiency. So, to compensate for his shortness of stature, he liked to climb things -- like buildings, and trees, and sign posts. And he didn't just run, he hopped and jumped about a lot.

...alright, maybe I just made up an RP reason to be on a chocobo's back while climbing up onto small ledges and seeing if could get on the roof of things... I STILL HAD RP JUSTIFICATION FOR IT IN MY HEAD! :P

And although I'm not playing the game anymore, I really liked Stalwart as a character. He was silly fun to write for. And I had this half-finished story I never posted anywhere... so for lack of better venue, I'll post it here.

Note: All references to Chocobos and Final Fantasy XIV belong to Square-Enix. I dun own nuthin 'bout dat. And I'm not looking to make any money off this either. Is just a creative little bit, that I had to get out of my system somewhere, to avoid creative asplodings.

Enjoy:
_____

A New Look for Stalwart

He didn't quite know what it was.

They were strange. These things the people put on top of their heads. It was a people thing.

It wasn't like what the trainers put on him sometimes, over his head, in that time before his little master had come to lead him away with her gentle hand. And it wasn't like the thing he wore with the saddle, on his head and beak, when he ran about, carrying his little master from one place to some other place.

That thing, he understood. It was so his master could better direct him where to look, when to stop, and where to run. (Or, sometimes, for her to cling onto desperately while yelling, those times he decided to jump about. Or run very fast. Or clamber up on top of things -- like tall rock formations. Or trees. Or buildings. Tall buildings.) That thing, it was a chocobo thing. He understood it.

This thing wasn't a chocobo thing. It was a people thing.

His master sometimes wore things like this on her head. Like when it rained. Or when it was hot. Or when they traveled out into the sunny-sandy place. She would cover her head-feathers with floppy things kind of like this. Or when she put on the heavy shiny things, with the pointy metal stick and big metal plank thing, she would put a metal bucket thing on to cover her face. Those things, he kind of understood. They kept his little master's head-feathers from getting wet. Or from getting too hot in the sun. Or kept her head from getting bonked by mean taller not-peoples and bad things in the forests and fields.

And this thing, this one thing that this new person was wearing, it was like his master's floppy things. But this thing was also different. It looked different. It even smelled different. It was new.

And he liked it.

It was kind of floppy, but not the same as what his little master wore. For one thing, it was a different color. More yellow. And it was shaped differently. Taller. Skinnier. More pointy. It even smelled different. Not like anything he knew. It was something new. Something different.

And he really liked it.

The person was talking to his little master, as she sat on his back, while they waited idly. He didn't know why they were waiting. He only knew they were waiting. Because she wanted to wait. It was enough of a reason for him -- at least, for now. Because this new thing was keeping him distracted. So instead of shifting about, or hopping from foot to foot, or puffing up at the taller chocobos, or looking for tall places to climb, or climbing up to tall places, he was eyeing this new thing this person was wearing.

He wasn't on his chocobo, the taller person. His little master was just about at eye level with the taller person, sitting on his back like she was. But that also meant that the new yellow-pointy thing was at his eye level. Or close enough to it.

So he reached out. And grabbed it. Took it in his beak and plucked it off the taller person's head. The person looked a little shocked, furry ears flicking a bit in surprise.

"STAL! No!"

His little master scolded him, but he pretended not to hear her. He had lots of practice doing that. She scolded him a lot.

"Bad Stal! Give it back!"

She tried to reach over and take the yellow floppy thing from his beak, but he turned away, keeping it out of her reach. She stretched out as far as she could to reach it, the floppy thing held firmly in his beak. But her short arms could not reach far enough. She leaned over on the other side, to try to reach the yellow floppy thing from that side, but he just turned the other way, and it was once again out of her reach.

By this time, the taller person was trying very hard not to laugh. And failing.

"It's fine, Tala," the taller person assured her, eyes alight with clear amusement. "Let him keep it, if he likes it so."

The wee Lalafel blinked. "But, is not Stal's hat ta take!"

"Then I will make it a gift to him," came the easy reply. With a gentle hand, the hat was taken from the rambunctious little chocobo's grip, only to be placed on his fluffy head. "There you go. Quite the dashing fellow you are, Stalwart."

The little beast look quite pleased with himself. He tried to flap his wings enthusiastically, which of course only caused his little passenger to be bumped about on the saddle uncomfortably.

He liked it. The nice taller person had placed the yellow floppy thing on his head. It was his now. And he would wear it to keep the bright sun from his eyes. And to keep the rain off his head feathers.

And to make him just that much taller, too. And that was the best part.

Brach's Butterscotch Disks

Today, I found some Brach's Butterscotch disks.

I stopped by to get a "get well" card for a family member, who is in the hospital right now. We, as in my brother and I, were going to visit, and I wanted to take something at least. So we went to get a card, the least we could do for a man who watched over us a lot when we were bratty kids growing up.

And then I saw them. Brach's butterscotch. I hadn't seen them in years. There have been other brands of butterscotch for sale, but never the Brach's. Needless to say, I bought some. Because Brach's butterscotch candies are special. 

They have a fuller, more buttery taste than a lot of the other brands. And the butter flavor tastes more natural than the cheaper brands as well - like real butter, instead of whatever flavor chemical combination the chemists concocted in the lab to approximate the flavor of butterscotch. It's a flavor full of nostalgia, and memories. And a few tears.

Because butterscotch was always Grandpa's thing.

He always - always! - had some Brach's butterscotch candies hidden away in his room. Whenever we'd go visit, when Grandma wasn't looking, he'd wave me over and sneak a couple to me, grinning mischievously as he'd tell me not to tell Grandma. He showed me where they were hidden, and told me to always only take a few, and always leave some for him.

I always did.

Grandpa always had a sweet tooth. When he was still a gardener, he would always get boxes and boxes of See's chocolates every Christmas, and he'd always share with everyone. We'd save the cherry-filled and marshmallow-caramel ones for him, because they were his favorite. And he always had ice cream in the freezer - popsicles, push-ups, orange creamsicles, drumsticks, those Mexican-brand fruit popsicles with the real bits of fruit in them, rainbow sherbert from Baskin-Robbins. 

Thanksgiving time meant a lot of things, but it most especially meant pumpkin pie. And Grandpa did love his pumpkin pie. He liked any fruit pie, really. But pumpkin pie was once a year, and special.

Grandpa always had hard candies on him, even when he went out. At the grocery store, everyone knew him as "the ojiichan with the candy," because he'd hand them out to everyone he came across. Because everyone deserved a smile, and how can you not smile when you get candy?

I always smiled. I still do.

He had all sorts of different hard candies. Japanese ones mostly, ranging from minty flavors, to honey-lemon, even some ume (pickled plum) ones. But one candy he didn't have was butterscotch. Because he said the Brach's butterscotch was the best, but we couldn't find them anywhere. And the other brands just weren't as good.

I can't believe he's been gone almost a year now.

Today, I found some Brach's butterscotch hard candies at the store. I bought them. I took them home. I slowly worked the wrapper off of one disk. As the buttery taste flooded my mouth, memories of grandpa came flooding back as well. And with tears in my eyes, I smiled.

I miss you, Grandpa.

More Random Letters of Complaint...

Dear Non-Player Character at the Blade's HQ in Oblivion,

Yes, I understand that you may be frustrated at a no-name ex-convict such as my character. But really, is it necessary to throw a big plate of venison at my face just as I walk in the door? Granted, I look like a big bipedal cat and all, but really, I think it's kind of rude.

Please refrain from doing it again. Else I might take offense, and poop in your boot.
_____

Dear Parents of Kids Littering the Front Lawn During Obon,

If you see you kids throwing stuff onto the lawn, please tell them to stop. Would YOU like it if some random kids came to your house and threw candy wrappers all over your yard? No, I thought not. Please try to be good role models for your kids.

Thanks.
_____

Dear Marketing People Who Came Up with the New Prius Commercials,

Ew. Just ew.

Dear Drivers and Car Owners...

Dear Guy with the New "Front Spoiler" on His Car:

Being able to come up with creative solutions is usually a good thing. It shows a clever mind that is capable of thinking in new and innovative ways to accomplish goals. It is a sign of an individual unconfined by the stifling walls of established normalcy. It shows strength of character.

However, sometimes it just makes you look like a cheap dweeb.

Despite what popular urban myth may lead you to believe, duct tape is not the solution to everything.

If you want a front spoiler for your car, please go purchase a front spoiler and install it on your car. Or at least go find a front spoiler at your local junk heap.

Really, how blind do you think we are? We can all see your so-called "sporty" spoiler is really nothing more than layers and layers of black duct tape applied to the front bumper.

And no, we don't think it's cool.

Not even if you're sporting a matching duct tape "leather" jacket to go along with it.
__________

Dear Random Driver in the Parking Lot:

Yes, I know that in your country of origin you drive on the left side of the road. And honestly, I understand it can take a little time to get adjusted. But please understand - here, in this country, we drive on the right.

This is the new reality that you must adapt to. We're sorry for the incovenience, truly we are. But no amount of hostile glaring, rude gesturing, and muttered comments under your breath in a non-English language is going to make this reality change.

So please, stop trying to make my brain assplode with the frightening mental powers of your hairpiece, and try to remember to drive on the right side of the road. Yes, even in parking lots. I'm sorry if the extremely large painted arrows on the asphalt indicating the directionality of traffic flow were somehow not making things clear to you.

Thank you for your time.
__________

Dear People Driving in California:

Please remember that some traffic signals here in the area have those wonderful camera accessories, which the local authorities use to take pictures of you when you try to run a red light (or sneak through on a yellow, as we drivers are sometimes wont to do).

For your convenience, these intersections are rather blatantly marked by signs (not to mention the really obvious cameras), which have been placed beside the road to kindly remind you that maybe speeding through the upcoming intersection perhaps isn't the best idea.

Of course, if you're speeding down the road at 65 mph, you may find the sign just a bit difficult to spot. So maybe slowing down just a bit might be advisable.

I mean, unless you're just trying to be helpful and provide the city of Los Angeles with a little bit of money during its time of deep financial crisis and all. Which I suppose really is quite civic-minded of you and all, but I think you could probably find a little better way to donate money to a needy cause. One that won't net you a $350+ citation and a black mark to make your car insurance premiums higher.

But hey, it's up to you.

Of Poopies and Supermarkets

The Following is a Public Service Announcementaru, broughtaru to you by the Windurst Coalition for Goodaru Health Habits and Poopy-Free Supermarketarus For Everypeoples Everywhere:

Dear tarutarus and taller peoples who visitaru supermarketarus with puppy doggies of all differentaru shapey-wapeys and sizies.

Please remember thataru having a puppy doggy is notaru a righty-wighty. Itaru is a privilegey-wigely, andaru a responsibilitaruy. Also, if the doggy is notaru trained to go to the potty-wotty correctaruly, you should NOTARU bringy-wingy the doggy to supermarketaru.

The supermarketaru is where tarutarus and taller peoples go to buy foods for eataruing. Itaru is NOTARU HYGENIC for you to letaru untrained doggies to go poopies or peepees insidaru the supermarketaru.

Doggy poopies have badaru e.coli, andaru that is VERY-WERY BADARU to be near foods for eataruing. It can makey-wakey tarutarus and taller peoples sicky-wicky in the stomach, andaru that is notaru very-wery fun.

Also, no tarutaru or taller peoples wantarus to step into a pile of green doggy poopies on the slippery floors insidaru the supermarketaru, where tarutarus and taller peoples go to buy foods for eataruing. A tarutaru or taller peoples mightaru slippy-wippy, andaru fall down intaru the doggy poopies.

Thataru would be very-wery unpleasantaru.

So please remembers - doggies that don'taru know how to go potty correctaru should notaru be taken-waken to the supermarketaru where tarutarus and taller peoples go to buy foods for eataruing. Thank you.

This concludarus this Public Service Announcementaru, broughtaru to you by the Windurst Coalition for Goodaru Health Habits and Poopy-Free Supermarketarus For Everypeoples Everywhere. We now returny-werny you to your normaru bloggy-woggy viewings.