OLRG: Checking off boxes on an invisible list…

Time to light it up!

 

I ended my work week on a bit of a angry note: did you ever work with a micro-manager, or someone who is so opposite of you on the Meyers-Briggs scale, that you wonder if there will ever be a bridge long enough to span the X-Y access divide? Well, I’m taking this short holiday break to try to wash all that away. It even snowed this morning! It looks quiet and beautiful outside, all hushed and sugared. Yes, I have a lot to do, mostly things I’ve procrastinated, squirreled away, and now it is the time to take those nuts out of the knotholes and ease my mind. This morning when I took the M-B test I came out INFP: Introvert (only slightly over extrovert – truly an ambivert), Intuitive, Feeling over Thinking by A LOT, and Perceiving over Judging. Some days I’ve come out more Extrovert than Introvert, so the data is skewed depending on mood. I don’t want to carry any negativity with me into December–it’s too dark,  too amazing, and too Solstice-y to burden with others agendas.

Besides, through the prodding and motivational speech given to me by Young Leet Druid, I persevered through the Bronze and Silver Challenges for both restoration and enhancement specializations, (and trust me–it took perserverance) and then queued up for Molten Core. I tried about four groups until I found a perfect one. Each group was disorganized, chaotic, and thought they could run it like it was still 50 levels below them. It’s not, but you know what? When you follow the tank(s), it’s not bad at all. I even took a screenshot of the amazing, funny group, so I would have a record of it:

Now, I posted this as an OLRG notice: we have until January 6, but believe we can get this done far in advance. We can join up as a party, and then queue up for MC. Since we’ll have more than five of us, we’ll be in the majority rule, and there will be no bruises or kicks. Promise. And since you have a ringer healer (moi) we’ll get in fast.

So: look over your calendars, and tell me what’s what. I’ll be around most weekends in December, and will be on holiday break, too. “All” you need to do is gear up just a tiny bit, and pass the silver challenge. If I can do it, you can do it. Now off I go to get Azeroth chores done, while I look at the pretty snow.

PS: Tome!

Legal in Lunarfall…

I’ve got a gift for you!

So there’s this cave of Druids. I found it during the early phases of building, but now I can’t find it again. Like a magic fairy circle, those Druids are shifty ones, that’s for sure.  Didn’t know about it? Of course you did! Who doesn’t know when there’s a nest of Druids squatting in a cave under their house? (Well, the mice are gone in the Matty-shack, but the psychological scars remain.)

Well much like other hidden things in Draenor, Druids can be hard to catch. I imagine them seeking sanctuary, laying low until they’re needed to wrath and claw. They do enjoy their herbs, however, so maybe they’re not taking action because they’re–well. Sleepy. Very very sleepy. With munchies. The jurisdiction of King W does not extend to their enclave so they are free to use as much incense as they choose. Who can blame them? Those caves get mighty musty, not to mention the funk of bear form.

Now one thing that’s delighted me as a I travel the new old world is finding many familiar faces along the way. Look! There’s Justin Timberlord. Maybe he spooked the druids with all that tree-cutting–they feared for life and limb. It’s the beginning of the holiday season, and every time I think of Justin Timberlake Timberlord I think of a very special gift. The next time time Justin Timberland hands over a crate of garrison goodies, hope you think of this:

<div itemprop=”video” itemscope itemtype=”http://schema.org/VideoObject”&gt;//player.theplatform.com/p/NnzsPC/widget/select/media/ZmK279EsYEKq?carouselID=139011</div>

Postscript!

Look! I found my friend Cymre’s NPC! If I had an NPC in the game, it would be find the Altaholic Intervention Therapist.

Can I get your autograph? No? Damn.

PPS:

Momokawa found them, of course.

Death by houseplants.

Carry on, Sergeant.

The story you’re about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Mataoka wandered around the grounds of her own estate–a magnificent, palatial estate. From her humble beginnings, however, she felt uncomfortable as ‘lady of the manor,’ with awkward and sheepish interactions with the grounds staff and security, sensing a small amount of paranoia. She had yet to take full command of her troops, as her title and rank suggested.

While picking flowers in the herb garden, the gardeners standing aside, rooted in place, a small monster leapt out from the dirt, biting, scratching, gnawing: it overcame her best abilities and killed her! It half-covered her body in peat moss and potting soil; as she ran back from the grave, furious, embarrassed, and seeking vengeance over a house plant, she arrived back at the scene of the crime to find one of the footmen rousted from the drinking hall dispatching the plant. Where was this trooper when the plant was making Mataoka allergic…allergic to living? For Velen’s sake–sitting in a Rylak Claw shop on her hind-quartermasters?

Mataoka saw it all clearly. Not only would she need a bodyguard to pick flowers, but would have to take full command and be the leader they all expected her to be. This was nothing to sneeze at, and it smelled like elekk fertilizer.

Or be killed by flowers.

Theme song:

Weeds for Roses

Underpants…crystals.

I am man enough to admit when I am wrong. Kam was right – it’s not so bad going through with a few characters. Why this about-face? Well, if I hadn’t taken Zeptepi through yesterday, I never would have noticed this:

This alludes to one of my favorite episodes of South Park. Ever. The Underpants Gnomes have it all figured out:

This is the Phase 1 Part:

Dude…

Nor would I have seen Zep’s smoky trail of gun powder animation:

There will be all kinds of surprises for each character, as well as learning from past mistakes. Already Zep got her enchanting shack up and running, and with the help of my younger cub, I learned how to tame a baby meadowstomper and add followers to my professions. When I watched him go over the bridge with ease, he said, “It’s okay–sometimes unless you see, it it’s hard to know what to do.” This is in contrast with young leet druid: JUST READ THE TOOL TIP (and then apologizes for being impatient).

My next big challenge is to find some patience to get Mataoka up to gear level to do Molten Core. I play this game behind all the time, but need to remember to relax. I shouldn’t look at all the players ahead of me, but instead remember to help those behind me. I’m here, leaving a trail of gun powder and underpants.

PS: One time I didn’t read the tool tip. I caught this rubber duck and promptly threw it in the water to see if it would float, versus to a companion pet. It sank.

PPS: Oh, and I killed this monster all by myself:

Mataoka’s Dream House

A beautiful picture of Mataoka always makes me feel better…old model

I wish there was an English word that meant love/hate all at once – like schadenfreude means ‘pleasure in others’ pain’ or something like that. Ambiguity or ambivalence doesn’t quite cut it.

What do I love about WoD? I am digging everything Big Bear said.

With a big, big butt but:

I wish my alts, which are really other mains, could be part of the same garrison, which Grimmtooth underscored in a comment.

I am dreading going through this content x4, or x5. Who do I leave behind? Zeptepi, who is a master tailor and enchanter? Momokawa, who is an excellent herbalist and alchemist? What about Kellda? Inscription and herbalist, and power-house of damage? Maybe Haanta gets left behind, but with her leather-working and skinning, she is my second true love. Okay, then Ceniza, fiery mage of passion and humor? Sorry, Lady Ceniza, you’re not welcome?

Why can’t I have ALL my ladies of Draenor come live in the same garrison, under one roof?

Too much to hope for.

I am breaking my vow of silence over this issue. I’m not even sorry. When I saw that Blizzard posted a cute little animation about their model changes, I saw only white-hot rage. And to read the comments, about how many players can’t wait to see Blood Elves. I say be careful what you wish for, dear players. They could give your beloved characters dead-eye stare of Draenei, the soulless mocking apathy, or the hysterical, hyper-exaggerated amateurish, mouth-lit human female model, or the bovine Tauren. I’m sorry – I am still bitter.

Damn – and Luperci! Her blacksmithing skills are incredible.

Damn.

Damn.

Damn.

Constellation of Thoughts

November is like tax season for me, if I were an accountant. It’s the longest shortest month. I’m not complaining, I’m blessed and grateful–just telling myself to be patient with myself while I get it all done.

I remember when I first started getting friends on this blog, how I would steal every second to scribble story ideas. The muse was strong with this one. Now something has shifted, the tide has gone out, and I’m not sure when its pull will return. But if there was ever a time to get writing fan-fic again, this would be it.

And just like in the past when I don’t read notes or blogs, I have made many expensive garrison mistakes. I am not sure what to do or how to fix them. One success, however, is Haanta’s focused energy to save and love an orphaned frostwolf. Many mixed allegiances–so conflicted.

Anyway, will you help me name her, Haanta’s frostwolf?

I’m all right…

Nobody worry about me…

But where is Messina? Mess Hall Messina would have been a good cook…

See? Right here? Ken Loggin. He is the patron saint of 1970s-1980s pop music and I’m sure, logging in. So, I made it in to Draenor. And once again I am reminded what a punk I am. I am so lucky to have a warm home, and a caddy shack to build. To Azeroth! The Danger Zone!

weeeeeak

Years ago, CD Rogue showed me this photo series a husband took of his wife when she missed the Ice Cream Man.

This was me tonight:

No ice cream for you.

Yes, that’s me, crying under a warlock robe my son put on me when he took pity on my sorry self. I’m doing everything I can to avoid reading blogs about conquests and happiness, while I see from Hearthstone (which I’ve lost repeatedly) my Battletag friends in zones of Garrisons and Joy. Leveling! Happy! Saving Azeroth! Saving Azeroth ALL OVER THE PLACE.

Is this writing one of “those” letters to Blizzard worth it? Is it time to go goblin and demand reparations? I’m just too heartsick. I have to go to bed now because I have a big presentation tomorrow, but do want to stop and wish Tome a VERY happy birthday! Don’t mind me, Tome, while I cry under this blanket, okay?

So what’s a Draenei to do but curl up in a fetal position by the fire on a cold night, and read The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell, and try to get a better attitude? We finally watched Maleficent, but my heart wasn’t really in it. When I went back to check on my queue, I saw the screen, and there smiling like Aurora on a prom date was Mataoka, beckoning me! CLICK CLICK LADY CLICK! AND THUNK – nada. No go.

Despair.

Crawling back under the blankets now. At least the dust bunnies love me.

 

 

Hot Cup of Troll

How’s about a nice cuppa of murloc tea?

Flipperbertyflappityfloo, this sucks. Turns out the least of the problems the good citizens of Azeroth faced yesterday were the Iron Horde, but expert DDOS hackers (aka scum of the f*cking earth), made sure that many users, including myself, were prevented from enjoying the expansion. It took hours after work, and I was finally able to at least go to Saurfang, hang out with Navimie and other awesome Frostwolves, and have Escarlata run through play up until garrisons, and then I had to go to bed. In no small measure did I feel disloyalty to Mataoka, stuck forever on Whisperwind, locked out, and not in any place to get rested XP. When I finally am able to log on, she is gonna be PISSED. Hell hath no fury like an enhancement shaman prevented from leveling up.

I think what really irks me are the consequences of their actions. They do it because they can, and what’s frightening is that they must be practicing for real-world terroristic hacks. Breaking into a game is serious enough, but this is their practice run for bigger world fish. But that’s intentional: the unintended or “added bonus” to their shenanigans is that one little over-worked woman in Western Washington wasn’t allowed to wash the day away and delve horn-first into fantasy. So I wake up at 4:30 am, thinking about my real world, and real stresses, and there was no antidote. Does one little me matter in the bigger schemes? Of course not. I can’t let my nerd rage get to me. I’ll save that for getting my tail handed to me in Hearthstone.

Stay off my wave! … Go back to the Valley, man!

This morning I got to talk to Khadgar, got my mind blown, enjoy the amazing WoD, and then rushed home, made myself a cup of Salted Caramel Cocoa, and WHAT IS THIS?

This aggression will not stand, man! Cocoa is drunk, (drank?), dishes are done, and work ready for tomorrow, so why?! WHY!?

Okay fine. Fine then. Fine and dandy. You’ve hooked me once again Blizzard. You found the blue meth. The ruby slipper. The one ring to rule them all, you bastards. And yet, here I sit. Okay. Okay. I see how it is. Good thing I took some screen shots this morning as evidence that I did get to taste the mojo, just a wee bit. And you know, I can’t let all things go, now can I? I noticed something, um…wrong. (Puts on Bill Nye the Science Guy Nerd Hat of Annoying Observations.)

I have such a crush on this man.

See this bird here? This Stonebeak Axe thingy?

This is NOT a carrion bird, Blizzard. The beak is designed much like a toucans, to crack hard nuts. And I don’t mean Orc-nuts. It is not designed to eat the dead flesh off of carcasses. Carrion birds, such as crows, vultures, buzzards, ravens, etc., have sharp or slightly hooked beaks for tearing apart flesh. Toucans and their relatives have large, mallet-like beaks designed to crack open nuts and large seeds. They also enjoy a diet of fruit, lizards, eggs, etc. but not the flesh of dead Orcs.

Conclusion: Blizzard should not give me time on my hands to write posts dispelling misconceptions about carrion breeds. The end.

Oh, and why can’t I have horns like Yrel’s?

Probably for the same reason I can’t have Kim Kardashian’s butt:

National treasure…