My amusement for the day.

I just got an e-mail that reads as follows:

You misspelled "phenomenally" on your Babbling Corner page. It's rather surprising that somebody so much better than the rest of us doesn't know how to use a spell checker.

I am highly amused. Firstly by the fact that the Babbling Corner has been up in its exact incarnation since jetwolf.com was launched in June 2000 and this is the first time someone's brought it to my attention. Secondly by the fact that it's in the graphic that I didn't even make (bad Amy, no doughnut). And thirdly and finally by the fact that whatever pissed this guy off, he felt the need to attack my spelling rather than my ideas. And I'm still no closer to knowing what he disagreed with. Nor likely to be any the wiser, since finding out would entail writing and asking, and I'm not much inclined towards encouraging dialogue between us.

But at the very least, I owe him a thanks for giving me a smile tonight.

Because people are stupid ...

If they have their way, gay marriages will be banned. I dunno about any of you, but the thought of the government telling me who I can and can't marry is irksome. Extremely so. The fact that it's already not legal everywhere in this supposed "land of the free" is a mystery to me, but then to dissolve already existing marriages? Feh. Click here to do something about it.

Pretty colours.

They've finally released the R1 DVD box art for S6. Yay, Xander finally gets cover art and Tara's got a disc! I feared it would be plastered with Spike. SO happy to be wrong on that. Much yayness.

Flatscan Update ... kinda.

My entire comics backlog (which was not insignificant) has now been scanned in and the appropriate pages updated to reflect my possession of them. No reviews, but this is a huge step towards making me feel oodles better about getting back on track. I'll likely just pick back up with my next shipment (probably tomorrow afternoon, then hopefully weekly after that). But hey, it's a start.

I go nestle up with 'Bit for some nice relaxing web surfing now.

Consider me hinted.

Okay, okay, Flatscan. I will, at the very least, update today with scans and index page updates of the issues I'm not reviewing. And hey, maybe I'll even squeeze in a new Austin review, because there's always room for pain. But the cover updates, for sure.

In the meantime, surf on over to my latest addition to HoF, Mostly Filler. You all knew it was coming. There's not much there at the moment, but my layouts are pretty and I like my episode screen caps, so amuse yourself with those until I start adding actual content.

Circles and Cycles

The Net is a funny thing. Right now, one of the parts of my site that's getting the most amount of attention again for some reason or another is my old "d00d" rant from waaaay back in 2000. (Remember that one?) It's amazing how things go through trends, even years after it's been released. OSB, of course, seems to have a steady stream of visitors despite not having been updated for about three years. My Xena review section is another that seems to go through spurts of activity (and I will return to those one of these days, honest). And then, of course, Flatscan still gets oodles of attention, and I really must get back on that. Hmm, maybe I should just start skip over all that I've missed and pick up again with this week's books? Then just go fill in the holes later? Hmmmm.

But anyway, yeah, it just fascinates me how quickly something can spread across the Net, particularly when there's some unknown trigger. One could (and probably has) do some fascinating sociological studies about such things.

Which reminds me about how someone contacted me the other day for their college thesis on angry women in society, using Willow as a focal point and asking for my take on stuff. Man, some days I just love people.

Tee-hee!

Okay, so I caved to peer pressure and just finished downloading "Smile Time". I haven't watched it yet, but I did do a brief skip through the file to make sure I had the right one. I'm not sure how the entire episode will go over for me, but I tell you this much: it was worth the time to download for "You're a wee little puppet man!"

Spit up my water, I did. I'm still laughing.

I have got to make that an event sound for something. I simply must.

And now it's time for ... Cooking with Jet Wolf.

So I got hungry around lunch time, as one is often wont to do, and made my way downstairs in search of something nummy, or at least filling. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I really loathe cooking. Food just doesn't excite me enough to warrent the preparation time. Unfortunately that means I usually relgate myself to sandwiches or meals that take two minutes or less to be readily consumed. But I didn't feel like a sandwich, so I poked around in the freezer and turned up some chicken patties and tater tots. Deciding that sounded much better and that I could wait the 20 minutes or so to cook, I turned the oven to the indicated 425° and went back upstairs for about ten minutes while it preheated.

For Valentine's Day, I went cheap. I didn't actually buy anything, but I did make Mike this big ol' breakfast (requiring actual cooking, not just slopping milk and cereal in a bowl), a yummy dinner and baked him a cake for desert. Take what I mentioned in the above paragraph to heart, and you'll see what a sacrifice it is for me to hang around the stove top. Everything went over swimmingly and all was well. Not wanting the cake to be left out on the counter while we finished it off over the course of the next couple of days, I decided to put it somewhere safe last night. I chose the oven.

So this afternoon, figuring things should be ready to go, I bounced downstairs, grabbed the baking tray with my delicious not-sandwich lunch, and opened the oven. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted with billowing smoke and Towering Inferno-sized tongues of flame. I quickly slammed the oven door shut again and blinked stupidly as my Mensa-like brain tried desperately to put the puzzle pieces together without the help of a picture on the box.

Oven. Fire. Cake. Still in there. Shit.

I quickly turned it off and then started watching through the little glass window (which I had previously ignored). Fire needs oxygen, so I thought maybe it would smother itself. But then it occurred to me that since I can smell things when they cook in the oven, and if I tried real hard to focus past my stuffy nose I could smell smoke, that meant oxygen was still getting in there, which meant self-suffocation wasn't likely.

Then I thought water, preparing to grab a mug and start throwing it in there, but wasn't sure if that would be such a good idea since icing is sorta sugar and fat and that might mean a grease fire and grease fire + water = bad. (I think I remembered that from one of those old Disney cartoons where Jiminy Cricket prattled on for 15 minutes about stuff or something. Who'd've thought we could ever get anything out of those things aside from a burning desire to stomp on Jiminy Cricket?)

I spent the next couple of seconds cursing the fact that we never did get around to buying that fire extinguisher we meant to buy two years ago, and then remembered: baking soda! I rushed to the cupboard, grabbed the box, opened the oven, and started flinging like mad. The fire went out almost immediately, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then regretted it, as I started inhaling smoke.

So now I'm sitting in a freezing cold house with fans blowing all over the place, every window thrown open, and the balcony door wide and inviting.

And I'm eating a sandwich.

Adventures in Romance

Happy Hallmark everyone. What did I do today? Well largely I worked really hard on breathing, which is currently more of an effort that you might think. That was while spending a huge chunk o' time with Mum on the phone watching Buffy. (I so have her hooked. Go me.) After, I went and picked Mike up and listened to him tell me all about his carefully laid plans for the evening. Then I shattered them all by saying I felt like poop and didn't want to be out too late. Again, go me.

I make it sound bad, but it was really quite amicable, and I'm happy to report that I am, in fact, feeling much better now. And I publically praise Mike for being a sweetie and making us plans.

We did go to dinner, though, and that was an enjoyable affair as soon as I managed to regain control of my rampant phlegm situation. How romantic am I? We had to wait a while for a table, but passed the time in the bar sipping on a way overly priced Diet Pepsi (no Coke). When our little pager buzzer thingie finally went off, scaring the crap out of me in the process, we waded through the crowds to the host station, where we were then led through a complex maze of people and tables ... right back where we started. Story of my life, really.

Throughout dinner we chatted and watched some basketball thing on TNN or TNT or whatever station has the basketball, providing our own brand of colour commentary that would probably be considered more than a little derisive.

After dinner we popped into Best Buy, and Mike picked up Final Fantasy XI. Yes Matt, we now have a copy in our household, you pusher. Not that I have a lot of time to play, so Mike's going to act as our little beta tester, which will determine whether or not I need to sacrifice my already monopolized free time at the altar of addictive gaming.

Things seemed quite perfect, but then it happened. The ride home. The radio was on. And ... it played Cher. That god damned Cher song that I had only just managed to get out of my head yesterday. Asses. I raged the only way I knew how -- I sung along, but with a grotesquely exaggerated country twang. It didn't make the pain stop, and the son of a bitch is back in my head again, but for a brief moment, I felt vindicated.

A pox upon you, Cher.

New Breed Hell

For the past three days I've had "If I Could Turn Back Time" by Cher stuck in my head. I don't know where it came from, I don't know why it won't leave, but I do know that it's slowly driving me mad. The only good thing I can think to say about the situation is, thank god I don't have the video stuck in my head too. The last thing I need is the 72+ hours of mental footage of Cher wearing two large rubber bands and straddling a turret.

The Joys of Marriage

Married life has its priviledges, but one of them is certainly not the rampant spread of viral infection. Mike, who rarely gets sick, managed to catch a nasty cold and sure enough, I made it mine as well within a few days. Yesterday was the pleasurable experience of feeling progressively worse, settling into "Oh yeah, feelin' WAY bad now" before the night was out. Sleep was fitful with irritating temperature fluxuations and the joy of feeling like my throat was being stabbed repeatedly by a thousand of those tiny plastic swords that decorate sandwiches. By morning, the pain was signficantly deminished, which is a yay, but it had moved instead to my sinuses, which is less of a yay.

And now I'm freezing and burning up. Stupid cold. *snerk*

Delayed TiVo Reaction

I sat down last night and watched the 100th episode of Angel, which now makes it my fourth that I've seen all the way through, I think ... No, wait, must be at least fifth now, because I remembered that I'd seen the episode that dervied the video tape Cordy was watching. I don't know when that one falls though.

Anyway, so I sat down to watch last night, and can I say, I actually kind of enjoyed it. But I do believe I know exactly why I enjoyed it, and given the ending, I can't watch the show for that same enjoyment again.

Are you lovin' my attempt to talk without spoilering?

So yeah. Kinda upset. Not "The Body" upset, or "Seeing Red" upset, but upset. Sorta sad. It was quite nicely done and all (although again, sort of eye-rolling with the "Whee, we have wires and we're gonna use 'em!" fight at the end), but ... Hm.

I suspect I won't be watching next week's, as it looks ... well, I won't say "dumb" because I won't be watching it to judge as such, but let's say "uninteresting". As I haven't watched Angel before I can't say this with certainty, but if I were a big fan of the show, I think I'd be kinda pissed at Spike coming in and snitching so much screen time. At least on Buffy he belonged there. I stand firmly on the belief that the overexposure of Spike is one of the leading contributors to S7's suckfest, but he wasn't an interloper. He feels that way to me on Angel.

So. Someone shoot me a candygram if Angel makes another turn for the Buffy and I'll watch again.

Oh, final thought, though: I really like Angel's theme song. Not in a rockin' Buffy way, but it's nice. And currently stuck in my head.

Romantic Video-Type Stuff

Just in time for Valentine's Day (okay, a bit early, I got on a roll today), I have a couple'a new vids. Xander and Cordy for the amusement factor of love making you do the wacky, and Willow and Tara for all your mushy gooshy needs. Go download.

Oh, and I've not forgotten to get back to work on Flatscan, just that the video bug bit me early today and I capitalized. I have a busy few weeks coming up, but I'll work on catching up on at least one X-Men series. Probably Uncanny, since it's likely to be very easy to write synopsis for ("So and so did this stupid out of character thing and then made an inappropriate sexual comment. For 22 pages.") and is always good for a laugh.

Hmm, trying to tell me something?

My Spider Sense is tingling ... I think someone wants me to update Flatscan ...

Okay, I'll do my utmost to get another couple of reviews done today. I've been bad, I admit it. So many comics unreviewed. Bad Jet Wolf. I slap myself on the spandex-clad wrist.

(But not really spandex-clad, because some people in this world just should not wear spandex, and I am one of them.)

Life is good

I'm lying in bed, covered up by my warm down comforter. 'Bit is propped up on a pillow that's resting on my tummy, and despite the odd angle, I can see the screen with no discomfort. I am surfing the web from a toasty, comfy bed. Life is good.