I dunno if it was walking back here in the rain last night or inadvertently inhaling way too many glue fumes or some sickly combination of the two or something else entirely, but yeah, I'm back in illsville tonight. Unlike last time, it's a different kind of sick -- I'm not hacking up green phlegm ad infinitum, I just feel drained and like utter crap despite sleeping for ten hours, though admittedly about four of them were spent violently twisting about in the bed while mumbling to myself like a raving lunatic and wondering desperately and seriously why I couldn't think coherent thoughts, because these thoughts were utterly insane and yet I just couldn't stop the deluge of them from forcefully crashing down on the broken beach inside my sandy little skull. I almost feel like I'm not here, and like certain vital organs aren't here, because I've got these icky feelings of utter emptiness in my head and behind my eyes and in the back of my throat and in my hollow chest cavity and in the pit of my gut... I imagine this is what it would feel like to be disassembled molecule by molecule for the purpose of being transported to some other location via sci-fi teleportation methods. Beam me up, Scotty! Where are you sending me? I hope it's somewhere nice.

Seriously, it's too much. I decided I'd try to do some gluing with Angelique, whose head wire thingies came detached almost the second I got her out of the package... except I couldn't get the damned glue cap off because the fucking FUMES were strong enough to glue that thing on tight. So after a long and frustrating bit of prying with a fork and a screwdriver and finally some scissors, I was able *pop* the cap off... which soared up into the sky and riccocheted off of the ceiling and got lost amidst all of the crap on my top bunk. GREAT! But before looking for it I decided to glue Angelique's head wire thingies back onto her head, which wasn't quite as painful a process as the Kill Bill experiments went -- which, I must add, never did turn out quite right and cost me a patch or two of skin to boot -- but I'm still not completely satisfied with the finished product. Anyway, once that was done, I set out to find the cap... and, of course, I couldn't. Mind you, there's no space on my top bunk to actually maneuver atop it, so here I am clinging to the side of the thing with my toes while creeping from side to side so that I could claw through the clothes and stuffed animals up there with my arms free, but to no avail... and all the while, the fumes from the glue are filling the room -- they're still filling the room, and I feel a bit lightheaded, actually -- so finally I gave up and started trying to shove something, anything into the glue bottle's mouth to plug it up. But alas, nothing was small enough to fit into that narrow cavity, so I had to resume looking for the blasted cap, and found it nearly a half hour later. Yay.

I hope you appreciate what I just went through for you, Angelique, especially considering that you have zero articulation and that your cleavage consists of plastic and paint.

Tina posted today with a link to oneword, a site that presents one with a word and then gives the person 60 seconds to write about it, so I decided to pop over and give it a try. Today's secret word was "worth"! For the rest of the day, whenever anyone says the secret word, SCREAM REAL LOUD! Okay? Let's try it! Here's what I wrote, with the secret word boldfaced:

A penny is worth a thousand thoughts. But what is a nickel worth? The answer is not as simple as you would think. And hey, why are a thousand thoughts worth so little? This is bullshit, and reading this isn't worth your time. So don't! Stop right now.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

P.S. Looking over what other folks wrote, it's kind of interesting that most of the responses make some kind of mention of money (sadly, mine included). Tina's doesn't, though. Self-centered lass. ;P

So it's 2005 -- best wishes for everyone in the new year. Of course, soon enough I'll have my depressing recap of the past year and my even more depressing projections for the coming year (coupled with my annual hope/wish/plea/prayer that this year is my last), but in the meantime here are a few pics to help you usher in the new year in your own homes. (more...)

So I almost went with sadwes.com, but then it dawned on me that if I ever stopped being sad -- which I don't anticipate happening anytime soon, or ever, really, until my inevitable death, anyway, but still -- I'd have to change the URL and that would be more trouble than it's worth.

Presently I'm leaning towards wesuri.com, but other possibilities include sickwes.com and westuary.com, the latter of which I think is really clever and somewhat appropriate but is also somehow slightly off. And then there are things like caveofwes.com and hauntofwes.com and such.