The Anti-Galvean-Blogging Conspiracy

A.K.A. Galvea's Insane Ramblings

Yes, I'm still alive. No, I'm not on the run from the mafia, the FBI or extra-terrestial salesmen. I haven't killed anybody. At least not anyone important. And last I heard, repeatedly stabbing someone with a blunt spork does not constitute killing.

This blog hasn't been updated much simply because I got hit by a writer's block of brick, thrown out of an apartment window while I was soliciting the advice of a lamp post below. Them crazy apartment-dwelling writers. Consequently, the hit to the head gave me about 4 months' worth of nerve-wrecking sanity and utter boredom. Life has been conspiring against me. Damn you, life.

Most unfortunately for you, my long-suffering reader, this current peace of mind respite from the otherwise continuous massacre of brain cells on my site lack of insanity will not last long. NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) has arrived, you see, and I plan on uploading every letter of my should-be >50,000-word crackfic chocolate-induced stream of conscious insanity novel here. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Why? Because I care about you, of course.

I haven't the slightest idea what I'll be writing about yet. A longer, infinitely more retarded intellectually-challenged version of my crackfics, maybe. Wait, what am I talking about? It has to be.

Here comes the million dollar in deficit question: Would reading a nonsensical >50,000-word story, of which a considerable percentage is made up of pronouns because I like leaving characters nameless, lead to dementia? Because bringing out the craziness in people is like, the ultimate purpose of my life. While we're at it, my ultimate ULTIMATE purpose in life is to enjoy chocolate ice-cream whenever I can. Mmm, chocolate.

Next update will probably mark the start of my award-repelling novel. It'll most likely be completely nonsensical and absolutely pointless, so don't say I didn't warn you. It'll most likely be rated PG-13 w/ nail-bat as well (y'know, for explicit scenes involving a frightening lack of sanity and graphic distortion of reality), so if you aren't 13 and/or don't have a nail-bat, please steer clear of the vicinity. Otherwise I'll have to shoot you with a taser gun over standard TCP/IP, and while I can do it because I make the impossible possible, the innarnet (along with the world as we know it) will probably explode and you don't want that, do you?

In other news: Besides all that hubbub about Mars being really close to Earth and all, Venus is especially bright these few days as well. You might be able to see it even before the sun goes down. Ain't that spiffy?

In other-other news: After two afternoons which may or may not have involved hot-blooded mountain bear wrestling, I am now a Level 1 Cookie Baker. With this skill I am now capable of baking peanut/chocolate cookies without accidentally poisoning myself. On a side note, if The Sims is any indication of reality, my kitchen stove now has a 50% chance of catching fire. Obviously the only solution to this is to immediately commission a swimming pool in my backyard for me to jump into in case my house burns down around me. While I'm at it, I must remember to place a snackbar and a floating bed in the middle of the pool, because hunger and exhaustion will inevitably lead to an incredibly ridiculous and anticlimactic watery death. True story. Happened to one of my Sims my friend's cousin's uncle's postman's daughter's dog's sibling's owner's nephew-twice-removed's flower pot.

I might advance to Level 2 Cookie Baker someday. I'm not too keen on it, to be honest, since the requirements involve a) teaching an Amazonian alligator how to tapdance and b) winning a cross-(snow)country race against a penguin. And damn are those penguins fast.