Cardiopulmonary resuscitation parking ticket citation Waziristan teacup fruitloop Batcake tango tango Oscar bloom.

Continuing on my trend of posting unnecessarily short updates at obscene hours of the night, have a hello.

Hello: ...
Hello: -runs away-

Well damn.

~Mnem

Huhwaitwhat? Vol V: Instant Messenger Of Doom - November edition

Yeah, we've hit the doldrums again.

Huhwaitwhat? Vol IV: Instant Messenger of Doom - September edition

Because we suck at keeping promises.

And suddenly, it roars back into life! Loljk, FG's still dead. Pass the eye of newt and the defibrillators and we'll fix that, though

LEAH: You should look at adoption ads. I see them all the time in the PennySaver.
JUNO: They have ads for parents?
LEAH: Yeah! "Desperately Seeking Spawn." Right next to, like, terriers and iguanas and used fitness equipment and stuff.

Hehe, Juno. -adds to list of Movies Chronos Must Be Made To Watch By Force If Necessary- It ain't an awful long list, though, since I'm usually the one with the pushy well-cultured friends who find my utter lack of an education in good taste somewhat downright appalling and a little exceedingly unladylike. Well boo hoo to you too. Scout Finch wasn't no lady neither and she's a gawdam goldarn goshdang [Ed. If you must swear, at least swear properly] literary icon for it. -wrinkles nose-

That aside, how are things going? It's been a while since we've posted--nearly a week, actually--well, six days since I last wrote and e-l-e-v-e-n days since that other random girl who runs this ship dragged her exam-ridden arse to a keyboard and feathered off a funny little suicide note about term assessments. One that I have neglected to update in regards to Biology Also, ~*~*~Edward Cullen~*~*~.

Fk you Chronos. Fk youuu. Mostly for the eyeslappingly flamboyant glitterification, but also because you hotlinked the original image and rehosting the thing on Tinypic requires that a copy of the picture in question be uploaded from a computer to the website itself. So I actually had to have Mr ~*~*~Edward Cullen~*~*~, Sparkleface Twithead Extraordinaire, on my hard drive. -sob sob sob- NO AMOUNT OF ANTIVIRUS WILL GET RID OF THE SHAME. NONE. SO THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR THAT.
AND NOW I WILL GO CRY IN THE CORNER ALL BY MYSELF, IF YOU DON'T MIND.

Mad: -head whips around-
Mad: -SHING-

...or maybe I'll just shelve the pain and continue with updating the blog.

Mad: -head retracts, disappointed-

Well, while I'm sure that some of the fine readers of this equally fine periodical exploded from the perceived testosterone in that picture, it seems far more likely that a substantially greater percentage of the audience quite frankly imploded from the total and utter lack of any such chemical compounds present in the person of ~*~*~Edward Cullen~*~*~. Think of it as a testosterone vacuum--not the hoovering things but the voids. Actually, think of space. Lack of testosterone. Lack of air. Lack of anything. ~*~*~Edward Cullen~*~*~ (and yes this is getting tiring) is outer space: cold, dead, and something that should be stayed away from until further notice. (Take that, Twihards!)

... huh, I've spent the better part of half an hour on my back with the laptop tucked up on my abdomen typing and then deleting snark against an imaginary vampire. (Yeah, I binned one paragraph about the ethics of the situation since I figured that me... talking about ethics... um... not quite appropriate, shall we say.) The pillow ends an inch below my shoulder blades and my neck is pressed hard up against the headboard of the bed and it will hurt like hell quite soon (I predict) and the warm heat of the motherboard whistling along belies the staggering doses of radiation which are apparently boring straight into my innards and frying all the little cells into a state of perfect non-vitality. So yes, I am destroying my ovaries and setting the scene for the biggest goddamn neck crick in the past half-century because I just love you that much. Enjoy it. Bask in the adoration. Feel the warm glow of appreciation bathing every inch of you from head to toe and back again. Happy? Yes? Good. Now get me an ice cream and take out ~*~*~Edward Cullen~*~*~ with a sub-machinegun or I sic seventeen penguins on you and Lord knows that won't be pretty for anyone involved.

~Mnem

Madcap screencap adventures! or, If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I just won out on War and Peace

In this update: screenshots. Lots of 'em.

Chronos likes cuts. Totally not awkward

~Mnem

[And so beginneth my policy of cross-posting everything I write from FG Posterous to FG Blogger, simply because I'm stubborn and loyal and constantly trying to one-up Chronos. Psych.]

Happy Thanksgiving! (unless you're a turkey)

I was invited to a Thanksgiving dinner at Atlas' today. My first one, y'know? I've never celebrated a real honest-to-goodness say-grace carve-the-turkey count-the-children-afterwards American (well, mostly American)-style Thanksgiving dinner. I came this close to showing up. This close. And then I spent the better part of the afternoon in an infernal mood about not being allowed to attend, due to a parental embargo on anything involving Atlas, and said infernal mood lasted until I saw this.

I didn't quite know whether to laugh or cry--everyone in that convo except for Orange is a guy, by the way--so I settled for screenshotting it and trying very hard not to think about tablecloths for the next two and a half hours.

~Mnem

How to write a back-from-the-dead post in sixteen easy and somewhat accurately described sentences

Obligatory odd first sentence. Sarcastic second sentence. Thoughtful third sentence, and then apologetic fourth. Explanatory fifth sentence, expository sixth sentence, seventh sentence stuffed with excuses and half-meant promises to not do that again for a while. Eighth sentence negating seventh sentence and therefore crossed out for purposes of comedy. Ninth sentence completely deadpan.

And then, from out of the blue, the tenth sentence.

~Mnem- "And here we put a nonsensical phrase" -osyne

EDIT: Eleventh sentence as an inane afterthought. Twelfth sentence assuring readers of sanity. Thirteenth sentence making derogatory reference to twelfth. Fourteenth complaining about lack of sleep. Fifteenth signing off. Sixteenth... zzz...

Oh Facebook, you amuse me so

My friends, admittedly, are weird. But in my defense, their friends are weirder.

~Mnemosyne

Y not?

Mad: -slaps Mnem for the lame pun-

Jeez, sorry.

Our dear friend Eusebia is having her birthday tomorrow, and we've all ganged up to make a sort of shambly, highly individualized collage for her, consisting of a large hand-drawn mishmash of A4-sized letters that will somehow hopefully maybe perhaps WHO AM I KIDDING -bursts into tears- form the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY [EUSEBIA] in an easily tacked-up-on-the-rafters format. Cool yeh? Anyhoo, we all pulled our choice of dipthongs and I got the 'Y's (because, you know, they're a stick on a stick, how hard can it be? --I can tell you, plenty hard) and, because I am unpredictable and rambly and given to poking FerretGun with the Big Stick Of Excessively Wordy And/Or Otherwise Unnecessary Posts every once in a while, I figured you lot ("Welcome to FerretGun! Total Population: 0.4 because everyone ran away after we, uh, cut that one guy in half--and of course he got slightly moldy and bits started falling off") wouldn't mind seeing my lovely artwork either.

GAHAHAHA WHO AM I KIDDING?! Eheh, picspam followeth. If this were LJ I'd put it under a cut (I'd have to; isn't there a law that mandates this somewhere, for the safety of the casual browser?) but, since this is Blogger and the cuts are infinitely less awesome, you get them chucked at you no matter whether you want them or not. -depraved grin-

Oh, I'm such a nice little girl.

I hereby dub thee "Gothic Y".

EDIT: Maybe "Peacock Y" would be more appropriate?

And you shall be my "Collage Y" and you shall be mine, and you shall be my "Collage Y"!

... no, I ain't usually like this, but working with oil pastels has a bit of a giddying effect on me. Quite similar to the Crayon Effect sometimes observed in overstressed highschoolers. Present anybody over the age of fourteen with a pack of crayons and a clean sheet of paper and boom, you've got yourself an artistic manic-depressive right there. Fun stuff.

~Mnemosyne

LOOK! LOOK OVER HERE!

... what? Why are you looking in this direction?

There's nothing to see here. Shoo, shoo shoo.

Fwahahaha, with this, we only have 5 posts left to write--

YOU

SAW

NOTHING.

THIS

IS

ABSOLUTELY

NOT,

IN

ESSENCE,

A

STALL

POST.

STALL POST?! WHERE?!

-Chronos

ZOMGFISH.

Look! It's Chronos and Mnem!

(No, seriously, this is us. For real this time.)

Random Bits Of Information That You May Or May Not Have Any Interest Whatsoever In Acquiring That Somehow Pertain To This Picture:

1. The pink creature on Chronos' head would be Chomp, the smiley-defenestrating octopus she cheated out of an arcade claw booth, and I say cheated because arcade claw booths are designed for the very purpose of providing a long-term home to their fuzzy little occupants. You're not actually ever meant to win anything off them... not by legal means at least. -shifty look-
2. I don't actually have pink hair. Nor is it straight. But I do possess that headband (although IRL it has white polkadots on it, because everything is better when it's eyecrunching) and a wig cut in that style, which I wore to school on Thursday in order to commemorate the 28th of October (otherwise known as The One Day You Get To Dress Up In School Because Hallowe'en Has The Nerve To Fall On A Weekend This Year). The look I was going for was Pippi Longstocking, complete with red plaid dress, layers over and under said dress, purple shoes, and long stockings socks (that also had dots!!!!!1!!one!), but somehow everybody kept telling me I was Lady Gaga, or Cyndi Lauper, or Wednesday Addams, or Hit-Girl, or Scout from TKAM, or some songstress from an all-girl K-pop band. (Weird.) I also got an unhealthy amount of comments to the effect of "You'd look nice if you actually styled your hair that way" and an equally objectionable although much more humorous amount of "Why did you dye your hair pink?", to say nothing of the odd joker who strolls past, double-takes, and then says real quietly, "Nice socks." -breathes- Run-ons FTW.
3. These were two separate pictures that I popped into GIMP and traced over by hand. Don't have a tablet (but Chronos does, lucky beggar) so it was all mousework for me. Got the nice smooth final look by running the inked and coloured .png through Inkscape's path tracer, which converts bitmaps (the image format based on pixels which is famous for exploding in high zoom mode) into vectors (the image format based on mathematical formulae which is famous for not exploding in high zoom mode). Because practically nobody and nothing accepts .svg files I screenshotted the final result and tossed it into GIMP once again. Consider it a sort of artistic volleyball, if you will, but if the shoe fits...
4. LOL Chronos looks really Chinese here doesn't she? -grins-
5. Font is Lemons Can Fly. Get it from here, not here, because the .zip from the latter site will throw a hissy fit and demand a password upon extraction.
6. I like the way I drew the hair--for both of them (both of us?). Criticism in this area will be met with tank-crushing. See previous post for the gory details.
7. Holy shet that was a lot of writing.
8. Haha, it's late.
9. We're not really talking about the picture now are we?
10. ... screw that.
11. ~Mnem

Happy 5th Month Anniversary, Ferret Gun!

./wanders in

So sorry I haven't been around.

Says it all, really.

But as compensation for leaving this blog to dry like a hanging sardine, here is a treat.

Hopefully it'll amuse you for a few days.

WE ARE STILL ON EMOTICON STRIKE. 
We also have some fried smileyface. Would you like to try some?  

-Chronos

"I have been busy", says Chronos. "BULLSHIT!", yells Mnem.

Since I have nothing better to do, I might as well.

No, I haven't been avoiding you. 's just that writer's blocks keep slamming down in front of me--

CRASH

...well, this time it landed on me. No worries, Mad will come back with a spatula soon enough.

-Chronos "I REALLY can't think of anything. Lol @ 131 posts for Mnem, 103 posts for Chronos."

Members of our extended FG family [an unfinished list]

Cats

• Coraline Avatar Titanic ("Corrie"): originally Mnem's cat, but now a fully fledged member of the Ferret Gun family and queen of the lower floors. Is blue more often than not. Wife of Eli.
• Franklyn Elizabeth Lassie Insomnia Nosferatu Evita ("Liza"): superfluous ambassador between ourselves and the animals; receives free psychological counselling as part of her job perks. Corrie's sister.

Ferrets

• Freaking Epic Rage Rage Eli Omu Tricycle ("Eli Trick"): a genteel, sophisticated fellow with a British accent and a fondness for tweed and scones. The only animal member of our inner circle possessed of the faculty of speech. Husband of Corrie.
• Nin: one of Chronos' Ninja Ferrets. Now you see him, now you don't.
• Jafer: another Ninja Ferret. Chandelier fixer-upper extraordinaire.
• Ret: the last Ninja Ferret. Responsible for most of the bedwetting incidents amongst the newer recruits.
• Martin Luferret: Dorm Head and mediator. Also a vocal critic of the Norman Cathartic Church. Has a thing for nuns, but as long as he keeps seventeen rowdy ferrets and seventeen rowdy ferret beds in tip-top shape, we shall not pass judgement.

Humans

• Chronos: resident mad (evil?) scientist, tinkerer of space/time, ninja ferret inaugurator, and cook.
• Mnemosyne: incorrigible paintress, opener of windows, record-keeper, and cleaner.
• The Head Gardener: exactly what it says on the tin on his namecard. Worships Chronos after she stitched his hand back on, but only because she very conveniently forgot to remind him that it was she who sliced it off in the first place.
• The Little Old Lady Who Lives On The Top Floor With Twenty-Six Cats And A Pronounced Interest In Taxidermy: because every house needs a topic to avoid at the dinner table.

Omus

• Ostrich Supper Triangle Random Imp Chop-Chop Ha-Ha Emu Mop Unicyc ("Omu"): neurotic, fiendish, oddly toothsome. Six-time winner of the bimonthly Metaphorical Marathon (look at those legs!), itinerant knitter, and ninja in training. Has a reputation for pushing people off the top landing and then braining them with flowerpots on the way down. Wife of Mad.
• Mikaelomu: a talented sculptor. Responsible for the creepy gargoyles in Chronos' and Mnem's images that bedeck the gothically themed ledges of the Animals' Wing, not to mention the marble lawn gnomes dotting the grounds and the Postmodern cabinet fixtures in the kitchen.
• Peggy: runs a transport service which hires out and maintains a fleet of corridor-ready vehicles ("'cuz this is a damn big tower, you know?" -- Chronos). Looks upon hybrids with ill-disguised scorn. Restores 19th-century bicycles in her spare time.

Penguins

• Pen Excalibur Nomad Gwin Umbrella Ink Ninja ("Mad", "Destroyer Of Worlds", "Oh God Please No Put That Down Please I'm Begging You "): Chronos' ward, protector, and right-hand bird. Can often be found in the Bunker, where all the science-y heavy equipment / semilegal compounds are kept. Universally feared. Husband of Omu.
• Poppy: a smaller-than-average penguin who happens to be Head Penguin Gardener, second (in terms of arboreal power) only to the Head Gardener. Has souped up the lawnmower in such a way that the resultant Frankenmower (her term, not ours) is currently banned in thirty-seven countries and subject to ongoing investigation in a further fifteen.
• Guintler: always on his soapbox. As fine an orator as can be had in the avian world. Also used as target practice when the ferrets get restless.
• Gardening Task Force: a tightly-knit cadre of specially trained penguin horticulturalists, landscapers, and hedge pruners. Suspicious of outsiders. Capable of doing terrible things with fertilizer sacks.
• Kung Fu Panda: a penguin in a panda suit who won't tell anybody why he's in a panda suit. Currently responsible for training ninja ferrets and taking charge of Tower security. Has previously taken out intruders with a combination of ballpoint pens, chewed twine, and the little clear things on the ends of shoelaces.

Misc

• October Chomp-Chomp Tentacles Orange Partyhat Underground Squawk ("Chomp"): neon pink octopus perpetually glued to Chronos' head/shoulder. Akin to an ambitious headcrab with fluoro tendencies, or a really big benign tick. Morally opposed to fried calamari. Unimpressed by soccer.
• Ominous Swiveling Watchful Lollipop ("Swiv"): small, candy-coloured owl. Knows all. Sees all. Has a fondness for CSI: NY and turning 360 degrees without moving an inch. Watches the entrances of both Chronos' and Mnem's wings thanks to a duplicate, indistinguishable from the real one. Recently voted "Most Likely To Be Seen On FBI's Most Wanted"* at the annual Tower Staff Get-Together, due to stalkerish tendencies and incessant hooting at unholy hours of the morning.

~Mnemosyne

*Mad was disqualified for reasons of already being on the Most Wanted list (#7).

Ferret is the new black

I made mention a few posts back of my seven standard colours, the ones I have decided are MINE ALL MINE and will probably use to within an inch of their lives in the foreseeable future. Remember? No? Well, you will, because I'm going to shove them up your eyeballs in approximately five seconds (or however long it takes you to read this little string of text).

Next time anybody asks me for my favourite colour, I'm just going to point them in this direction, because I love every single one of those shades equally and without discrimination. (Except for the orange, yo, which is totally more equal than all of them put together. Not that I'm biased or anything.) They're like my children, if you could slap children on questionable line drawings and call it art. Wait...

Actually, on second thought, let's not go in that direction. The RSPCC is already after my hide for that "babysitting" incident (although in my defense nobody ever said you weren't allowed to tie them to the lawnmower while you did a little light gardening).

~Mnemosyne

Documentation of the all-too-common lame pun monster, also known as Chronos

Because somebody said they wanted proof she was alive. Or it may just have been the schizo talking to herself, I don't know.

(Between you and me, it is getting a little harder to distinguish between what's real and what's not nowadays. Sometimes I pick up the phone and hold a lovely long chat with an old friend--"Hi, how are you, how are the kids, burnt any bridges recently?"--before realizing that the number hasn't been dialled, the cord isn't plugged in, and I have, in fact, been talking to a banana all along.)

 But I digress. Witness the Chronos in all her blinding, blinding eloquence.

She's the blue nutcase text, by the way, although I'm fairly sure the punage OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE made it obvious. -ahem-

Speaking of voices in heads:

(Mnem and Atlas pass a BlackBerry ad with the tagline "Talk to your inner, inner circle!")
Atlas: Disturbing.
Mnem: Wait, isn't your inner inner circle the voices in your head?
Atlas: For you, maybe--
Mnem: Awesome, I can bbm them now!

Yeah.

~Mnemosyne

Moar fun at LJ's expense

I'm enjoying this. Can you tell? -big grin-

~Mnem

Return of the GIMP monster + the siege of LiveJournal

Ooh, look at me, I'm so scary, rawr rawr. Me and my layers and my opacity and Gaussian blur and my slightly unnerving pop-eyed dog.

We are unsettlingly fuzzy, and we are legion.

But, I digress. Here's another random act of GIMPage to sate your hunger. Not really even FG-related this time (unless you count the repeated abuse use of my much-loved seven standard colours):

She was originally meant as a LJ header, but apparently we ungrateful non-paid members don't get to customize our themes to that extent (think of the anarchy that would result!), so I guess she gets the consolation prize of being my userpic. For what it's worth the new journal is at sock-thing.livejournal.com although it is, as of now, empty as a savvy plumber's condom packet.

OMFG A SEX JOKE
THE HILLS
RUN FOR THEM

... psych.

I have to say, I'm kind of looking forward to this journaling shtick. (Don't worry, I won't be leaving FG behind, because I still need somewhere to make fun of LJ itself.)

Here is your anarchy, people.

Muahaha.

~Mnem

Doomful frogs abound. Also, hippos + swearing

So maybe I lied about the frogs. Pshh.

Mad: ./hops off spatula
Mad: ./boots Mnem into the hole
Mnem: -shrieks-
Mnem: -grabs Mad-
Mnem: -both of them tumble down-
Chronos: Mad's... tubbiness will get him stuck in a hole at one point...
Chronos: ./pop sound
Chronos: There we go.
Mnem: -clings ferociously to a flipper-
Chronos: Oooh, not for long though.
Mnem: -scrambles up penguin-
Chronos: ./hippo comes tumbling down
Mnem: OH SHIT SHIT SHIT
Chronos: Dear dear dear.

~Mnem