Blizzard Entertainment Sucks

Unless you care about World of Warcraft (or gaming) in the least, I would skip this post because it's just me ranting about how their game developers are douchebags.

I got an e-mail from Blizzard Entertainment informing me that World of Warcraft is now free to play. To my dismay, I soon realized that I had been bamboozled. Here is the actual body of the e-mail:

If you look closely, it states that it is free to play up to level 20. This would be considerably neat IF they hadn't ALREADY been free to play up until level 20 before this. "Kat, if you're so frustrated about it, why don't you just pay to play?" Because I'm broke. That's why. To deal with this frustration, I wrote them an e-mail back, expressing my feelings on the subject:

I don't think they even read the e-mails in their newsletter inbox, but it was worth a try.

Anemic Russians

According to Daniel, the Russian Army prepares soldiers for the horrors of war by putting them into a room and forcing them to wade in animal blood. What. The. Fuck? That is a ready-made script for a horror movie. Also, this next part is not exaggerated. I lied awake in bed for an hour before falling asleep last night because I thought a Russian commander was going to burst into my room and take me out for a 'swim'. My delicate mind isn't made to comprehend that kind of information.

Then when I woke up this morning, I searched 'Russian soldier blood swim' on Google to confirm the validity of this information. Except, now that I think about it, a Russian soldier blood swim sounds like an organized triathlon event aimed to raise awareness for anemic Russian veterans. Anyway, I did not find any results. Now I am currently under the impression that my boyfriend makes up horrific scenes for fun just to watch my sanity slowly disintegrate.

Edit: Daniel swears he did not make that up. I refuse to believe him until he comes back with some form of proof.

Edit: He found it.

Furry Friends and Lovers - They Are The Same

This is not to say my boyfriend leaves his pants everywhere. I don't pick up after him, and he is a reasonably clean human being. I am grateful for this. I cannot say the same for my cat. She leaves her pants everywhere.

Pussy Booty

I know. I've been snubbing my blogging duties. It's just that I've been off in the real world, taking care of my responsibilities. For this, I apologize. I promise that during the week, I will have a greater need to procrastinate and write dumb things for you internet people. In the meantime, have a picture of a cat butt.

My Last Words

I am about 99% sure that I am dying. First, I should explain that I believe when good things happen, my mortality rate spikes (and vice versa).  For example:

This week I have been in and out of the doctor's office because I feel like there is a bear inside me trying to claw it's way out of my very unhappy stomach, and there are more bears inside my skull, causing damage there as well. I am currently waiting for results from my lab tests.

This week, my mom bought Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

DO YOU SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE? My mom knows I might die, so she tries to console me by being extra nice. One might point out, "Well, Kat. Buying Cinnamon Toast Crunch isn't THAT great." No. No, my friend, that is where you are wrong. You just don't understand. I was that kid who grew up with essentially nothing but Raisin Bran and goddamn off-brand Wheaties. I was that kid who salivated while simultaneously wiping away tears of sorrow as my mother carted me through the cereal aisle that held my hopes and dreams.

Now, you must see the position that I am in. Do not mourn for me. As I prepare for my impending doom, I will be happily treating my taste buds to a sugary last meal.

The Joy of Stats

I find myself becoming rather fed up with my statistics homework lately.

How I Make Friends