Till the end…


I’m procrastinating as usual– the question of the hour being how has Facebook changed lives–and of course I’m thinking of all the wasted hours–but then again, there was this article about death doulas-– women who stay with people during the end of their lives. That might come in handy in case I outlive everyone. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. In any case, they’re called ‘amicus mortis’ — and immediately: FORSAKEN PRIEST!

Ah, real life. Always an inspiration to my fantasy one.

Now the question is: to heirloom or not to heirloom?



Little Pessah

moose mount
We don’t give moose to gnomes. Be gone with ye.

Dammit, Pessah.


You little shit.

There you are, taking advantage of a rare, free afternoon, coming to terms with the fact that you’ll never get that Moose, or taller, or any of your larger, more “tailed” sisters will see the light of Heroic Archimonde, and who do you see in trade chat, but one young Ftbubbler, Esquire, asking if anyone wants to do a heroic Arch run, for love, gold, and moose-s.

He’s dead, Jim.

You inquire. It’s fair, You trade. And you’re ported away to the platform, zip boom bang it took about five minutes to bring him down, and look: #19 on the meters!


Oh, there’s more? You got a 720 Level Mace that is now making that angel Zep turning feel-green with envy? And that snooty shaman is just shaking her head in disgust? Oh, and of course there’s the DAMN MOOSE–you had to travel to Moonglade for Velen’s sake, talk to the hairy feathered dude who walked to the lake on two legs, washed off a red rock, and made a moose out of it. Don’t tell me those hippies ain’t smoking some of whatever’s in their herb pouches. At least they share. At least they share.


Look, we’ve all known for a long time I have no shame. I really don’t. I could give two gnome boogers about being carried for this moose. If it put some gold in a paladin’s pocket and made me a little happier, screw it. And who more noble than a shitty shadow priest named Pessah to see it through?

And she didn’t die.

Ulduar Fashion Show

Well, damn, I’m sorry east-coasters. All we have here in the northwest is rain, and more rain. Some of my friends from Florida are making plans to move back to sunnier climates, though, because they just can’t take the darkness. And it is dark, make no mistake. CD Rogue gets in a funk. I battle it. And there’s not much to be done for it, truth be told. But hey! There’s always Ulduar! The most beautiful place in all of Azeroth. Since the Mimiron mount is still on stingy-mode, thought I would put together a little fashion show based on the hodgepodge of pieces from various places, but including at least one Ulduar find:

Screen Shot 2016-01-23 at 7.04.08 PM
Purple is the new black…
ceniza ulduar
Ceniza the Mage looks very priestly, but oh those daggers…
zep ulduar
Zep loves her new wand…
Screen Shot 2016-01-24 at 8.08.00 AM
Sajja got the zappy-shoulders

sajja two

Screen Shot 2016-01-24 at 8.08.36 AM
Momokawa looking very life-giving
Screen Shot 2016-01-24 at 8.08.51 AM
Think only the gloves are from Ulduar



Moods–quirky lot, those things. All week I’ve been in the mood to write a love story, about waiting, abandonment, life with ghosts, all covered in ivy, icy moonbeams, and seamstresses tailored in silk.

But I can never think of an ending.


But, if anyone’s interested, here’s what I’ve been doing — over the Winterfeast of Veiled Disappointment I made sure to run those dailies as often as I could, on every character, until I got the yeti mount thing not only for myself, but Druid Cub and CD Rogue. Yes, I could have sold the extras, and for a pretty gold penny too, but meh. Oh, and our mutual friend Breige talked me into moving some characters to Aerie Peak to join ConvertToRaid, and I haven’t begun to dig out all the bonuses they offer.

CD Rogue found a new job, so hopefully things will improve around here. I’ll find some head space to write, but right now I just feel this pallid sense of letting everyone down all the time. Over the holiday I did catch a horrible case of blues, so bad, so sudden, that I couldn’t go to my book club. It was weird: it felt anthropomorphic, and cruel. But that’s why we in the Northern Hemisphere light a lot of fires in December. I damn near wanted to set the manger on fire, but nothing should make baby Jesus cry.

Yes, Old Ladies. I need you. Look for requests to go do stuff.

Whereby I become a meme.


This is a true story.

The other day, I was walking our puppy with CD Rogue. Don’t get too excited. I haven’t taken a walk in two days. Anyway, I’m on break, and that means I barely shower. Putting on a bra is the height of accomplishment. And I learned something about myself: if I don’t put on under garments, I am incapacitated. I can’t move. No bras are my kryptonite.

But I digress.

Anyway, I’m walking, and bundled up with the hodgepodge of coats, gloves, scarves, etc. at my disposal. Looking stylish is not my goal. Nor is, apparently, minding my head wear. So yes, I donned the Helm of the Fierce Bison.

My coat is my black velvet swing coat, which on good days I look like a beautiful enchantress, but on bad days, like this particular day, I look like a lost and elderly black bear who’s out of Pall Mall cigarettes and scotch. My scarf is the Hello Kitty menagerie, and an over-wrap to add a certain panache to the whole ensemble. Striding as a Guardian of the Walk, the Helm of the Fierce Bison.

As we’re rounding the last bend, the last quarter stretch before home, there is a stop sign that affects one lane: all the other lanes have free pass to go, so naturally we’re always really careful at this corner. A red Subaru stops, and we’re thinking it’s waiting for us to pass.

We wait, and wait.

And then CD Rogue says, “She was taking a picture of you.”

That. Happened.

So somewhere out in the digital world is the most unflattering photograph of a middle-aged lady, or bear, who appreciates Hello Kitty scarves and animal millinery.

Be kind in your comments. I can take it. I have a bra on.



Hungry Hungry Hippo Hacks

Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I know I promised Señor I’d write more, and stuff, but damn, okay? Sigh. I’m a loser.

Seems these days I’m taking the easy way out. If whatever is in the game isn’t handed to me on a silver plate next to a can of cold PBR and a couple of Excedrin for Headache pills, I just don’t have the time or energy. Yay, money’s tight again in the MattyShack, like…couch cushion crease tight…and job sitch isn’t great, and and and

BUT LOOK! A free Hippo! All I did was click on stuff and it came in its own crate:


All right, so that’s cool. My new obsession is with getting a Grumpus mount. You can keep your hippos, Blizz. I want a freakin’ yeti.

Look, the bills are getting higher, my expectations are getting lower, and trying to balance this tightrope. Everyone has a moose but me, and everyone may have better gear, but I have a big hippo butt! Oh wait…

"Squirrel Nuts Stirring Up Drama"


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