94th time is the charm…

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was—a woman.

Navi must be my good-luck charm…no other explanation…

Women are pretty damn scary, but awesome.

Happy Halloween!

This is one of my all-time favorite images of Mataoka:

Of late, I am always a day late and dollar short. Literally. It’s Halloween, and I had to wait for payday to buy well, Paydays and pumpkins. But I decided yesterday I needed a well-earned mental health day, (it’s been a long, weird week–not bad, but…) and need to brew up some tricks and treats for myself. Patience, my pretties…patience.

These are some sweet witch images

I’d like to think the toads, etc. used in this spell are gulp frogs (right there with ya, Navi)

Witches’ Chant (from Macbeth)

1st Witch:
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.*
2nd Witch:
Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin’d.
3rd Witch
Harpier cries:—’tis time! ’tis time!
1st Witch:
Round about the cauldron go:
In the poisoned entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Sweated venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first in the charmed pot.
All:
Double,double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

2nd Witch:

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blindworm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing.
For charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All:
Double,double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and couldron bubble.

3rd Witch:

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg’d in the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat; and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,-
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For ingredients of our cauldron.
All:
Double,double toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
2nd Witch:
Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

*Gosh, hope that’s not Mrs. W!

We all know the Ash Witch is the most bad-ass witch of all time, but these are pretty good, too.

For the HUBBAHUBBA!

Oh Navimie – oh Navi — damn, that Tauren druid is one of the few persons on the planet who makes me speechless (I bet CD Rogue wishes he could learn her secrets)! This gift was my early morning surprise from Navi, who superlative generosity knows no limits:

It immediately reminded me of 1940-1950s Pin Up girls, and when I went to check out the artist’s site, that’s what she was thinking too!  Ah, if only my real-life, um…chest plate…was so…yeah.

Thank Navi, and thank you Carmen!

http://artofcarmen.tumblr.com

Too Sexy. Never.

*Personal story: my dad used to try to get my cubs to say “hubbahubba” to pretty waitresses. Good man. 🙂

Postscript: Saw this other version on the artist’s site, too:

RTMT: Never tell me the odds, kid.

Things could be worse. Could be this squirrel.

Today’s Random Tuesday Morning Thought is sponsored by Random Number Generator: “when you absolutely, positively have to have it: we won’t let you. ™” 

Driving young cub to school yesterday morning, he bravely, but resoundingly, told me my chances of getting the Horseman’s mount were slim to none. It involves real math. This conversation inspired him to consider taking Statistics, which I strongly encouraged because who knows what I might have become if a young Matty had taken stats and physics instead of art and, well, art? I could have been somebody: I could have been a contender. Or at least earned a comparable salary to my years of degrees. ANYWAY.

Sorry. 

Okay. Back to math. (And why does British English call it ‘maths?’) Turns out, there is a big difference between decimals and percentages. Consider the only source of drop-rates I could find was from 2008, which provides a .5%. Now, if it were simply .5, that would be pretty damn good, because it would be 50%.  But it doesn’t say that, it says this:


I do not feel confident this early to share my math noob-ness. I used to be pretty damn good at it, until I got a gin-drinking Algebra teacher in 7th grade who reflected upon his life behind a newspaper while I sat bewildered. Hope he got it all worked out. But I can’t blame him – but I can blame the RNGs. For “fun,” (I really need to work on my definition of “fun”) I have been keeping this chart of my horseman runs:


So far I’ve gotten 3,456 candies, three troll masks, one Horseman helm (on my druid, ROCK ON MOMO!), a few sinister swords, and a few razor blades in the apples. To date, this is 77 times. By calculations, I should have gotten the horse 38.5 times. But alas, no: 3.85 times. But where is my pony? No where. Ponies don’t do math. Nothing to lose a head over, I suppose. Godmother has done a lovely job discussing rewards, and has thoroughly analyzed everything Azeroth. I can’t even get my calculator to work right or remember third grade math.
Here: let’s look at some pretty Draenei:


It’s okay, chicas. I won’t give up on you. You’ll get your pony.

Story Time: Green-Eyed Tom

The moon turned its face: she had business elsewhere to attend. Tom and the female (who had lost her name, somehow, skittering away due to growing, hypnotic incalescence. This heat cheated the first frost of its glory: no one noticed how cold gripped the vines, the clarity of bone fractured under the heart. 
There is more to say, more to confess. The pause, the gulp, when one swallows the truth, turns away, pretending. 

What scares us….

This may take a small serious curve.

I spent the large part of the weekend in Azeroth, and it was…good. Really good. It wasn’t so much the defeat of Blackwing Descent, but the enthusiasm of the group that kept me going. Few characters finally got some decent gear so that when they go into any situation they’ll do well (looking at you Luperci and Momokawa). Mataoka finished off Garrosh in LFR, and it was bittersweet. Watched my yearly viewing of Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, spent time with CD Rogue in the real world, and spent time with best friends in the virtual. For a few hours, I was blissfully, delightfully in the rabbit hole. The tea the Mad Hatter served was honeyed and hot, the Chesire Cat purred, and even the Red Queen mellowed. But I came up short tonight, caught my breath: at some point this will be over. Things and circumstances may affect time spent in Azeroth, folks come and go, and all good things…well you know.

Afterwards, I watched TV with CD Rogue, Through the Wormhole, specifically the section on Lifelogging. The point was made about the fact we already do this, posts on social media, etc. It did not discuss the virtual game lives, which I still contend we have not dealt with, or are capable of managing. I don’t want a running stream of my virtual characters’ lives on top of my own, and yet I write this blog. Guarf teased me about not getting my work-work done (there is sits, in a pile). And now it’s time for sleep – I’ll see the layers of Azeroth on top of my life’s mind in dreams, and list-making.

I know good things come to an end, but not yet…not quite yet.