I got opinions.

Ironically, this time. I made the extra effort to start early on a project not due until the period before Spring Break, aka, next Wednesday. I’ve had a long time to start, admittedly, but a week is a long time for me to work on something. Still, a solid week for this, that should be easy.

And then I learned Spring Break is next week, and the paper is due Wednesday.

So close to improvement, yet so far.

No matter how many computers I build, there’s no part more annoying, more time-consuming, more likely to make me cut myself than wiring it all up. Putting big parts in place is easy. Hooking up USB ports, power switches, audio ports, and every other random wire within a case takes at least twice as long as any other part of the operation, for no apparent reason. It’s not like I have more things to connect, nor that it’s much more difficult to work out what goes where.

But for some reason, it’s always at least twice as long as the rest of the job.

I suppose it follows the same rule as cars, home theatres, and everything else ever to exist that contained wires.

Okay, listen. When an ad for “HD Vision Sunglasses” uses cheap knockoff of Highway to the Danger Zone, I’m okay with it. I expect it in some way thanks to being bookended with quotes like “I can see better with them than without glasses!” and “Now I see life in HD!”

But when UFO Files on the HISTORY CHANNEL uses a knockoff of the X-files theme song? Not so much. I know it’s not exactly high standards educational documentary, but god damn it, it’s supposed to be more than trash TV. At least hold yourselves to the same standards as SIGHTINGS of all things did. Hell, Sightings at least was one of the first outlets I know of to talk about Xenu, way before everyone learned the deal on South Park.

If you’re calling yourself documentary but can’t manage to stay at the level of Sightings it’s time to pick a new label.

Here it is. Glorious, isn’t it?

“I just wish you didn’t drink so much.”

“Why don’t you look at me when we make love?”

“What’s his name? What’s his FUCKING NAME?!”

“Just a fling? There’s no such thing as just a fling!”

See your doctor more often. Get your physical regularly. Get your urinalysis and blood tests regularly. Twice a year if you can, but at least once a year As long as you do that, you won’t be able to convince yourself that you’ve had supercancer or superAIDS or anything else festering for years. You’ll either be on top of it, or never have to worry.

I promise you, that’s a damn sight better than four days of sleepless panic.

Wikipedia has a living people category, a dead people category, and even a missing people category.

But there’s no undead people category.

Today has been spent, when not in class, listening to Lady Gaga/watching her new video (FABULOUS), watching My Little Pony:Friendship is Magic (FABULOUS), eating Honey Bunches of Oats (FABULOUS/kind of a concerning combination with MLP).

I have no man points left after this. I’ve gained some chickpoints and furrypoints, though I’m not sure I have any use for them. In the future, who knows? For now, I’ve apparently given up on my testosterone.

I think I really like My Little Pony:Friendship is Magic. It has a surprising amount of amusement quality and adorability, without being a girl-show. Lauren Faust, who worked on Powerpuff Girls and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends is behind this show, explaining a TON about the quality of the content.

But all this means now I have to confess to not only totally loving Lady Gaga and Fashion Police, but My Little Pony. I know the American male is supposed to have a very fragile concept of his own gender and sexuality, especially if you ask women. But damn it, this show is great. Yes, it’s My Little Pony. But it also had a motherfucking MANTICORE show up.

This show needs watched more often. By everyone. It’s so good it had to be banned from 4chan and SomethingAwful’s discussion, lest it take over again. That’s all the endorsement I needed!

In the process of getting my physical, I came to realize just how much of a worrier I am. I’m pretty sure this is the same thing that happens to everyone, though. You go in, you get poked and prodded, and suddenly your brain goes into overdrive.

“Oh god, I’m scared of the test results!”

Whether or not there’s any reason to be, and more importantly, as if the test results have anything to do with things. They’re only and indicator of what’s already happening! But the human mind wants to  assign blame for what hasn’t happened and may not ever happen. “Oh god I MUST HAVE THE AIDS!” it says for absolutely no reason. “My cholesterol is going to be sky high! I’m a walking heart attack!” follows. “Cancer! I have testicular cancer!”

It never goes to simple things, like “I could lose a little weight” or “Well, my cholesterol is a touch high, but I’ve been changing how I eat so that’s going down anyway.” It’s always a worst case scenario, thinking about that tiny, tiny lump that you know biologically belongs there anyway, or that one questionable encounter with that one questionable girl. Odds be damned, it’s always something terrible that you never thought of before that you MUST have now.

It’s a three day wait for “Oh god. The doctor calls with results thursday, but it’s not going to be the “You’re fine!”, it’s going to be the “I need you to come down to my office” because Arizona law mandates positive AIDS test results be delivered in person!”

Intellectually I’m entirely aware that ANY results are a benefit to me. I’m sure most people are when they get their tests. If against all odds I was a walking heart attack with AIDS and testicular cancer I’d be better off knowing so I could treat it. Instead, my primate brain says “ook ook you’ll live forever if you don’t know ook ook!”, not “Hey, that’s good, your heart won’t explode and shower HIV on everyone around you since you can treat the problem!”

Stupid primate brain.

Food allergies are great. Especially the deadly kind.

The first hangover I’ve ever had in my life, and it’s from benedryl and half a beer to make sure my throat was free of anaphylaxis-inducing particulates. Nothing fun, not that I’m really a drinker anyway, but just 30ml of benedryl and half a beer, which knocked me out at 10pm at the last.

Woo.