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Kratos, the god of war

Body filled with orbs of blood
Possessed with powers green and blue
Pride dragged through the mud
Hate and lust are strong and true

Love is smeared across your face
Your hands can not grip tight enough
Coldest stone cannot meet your gaze
Hate and lust are raw and rough

Rage can fuel a pair of blades
Gorgon eyes and phoenix feather
As memories of mercy fades
Hate and lust are merged together

Sex and the City

People ask me if I'll go and see the new Sex and the City movie. Since SatC has been annoying me for a good six years already I don't think that another hour and a half of it would be fatal but still that's not a risk I'm willing to take. It might somehow convert me from the perfectly normal woman I am today to some sex crazed liberty embracing whore who never works but still magically always has a new pair of awful shoes or an equally horrible belt or some other craptastic accessory. None of them have any videos or CD's in their homes, not one of them has a favorite band or a favorite book, they're all optionally starving themselves of any kind of popular cultur.
I'm nothing like Charlotte who seems to believe that women are born to be married and men are born to marry them and that pre marital reproduction goes hand in hand with selling your soul to the Devil, and I'm nothing like Carrie since I don't alter between being a needy lap dog and being a completely shut down sulky little ice bitch, nor do I have the worst sense of fashion in existence. I'm nothing like Miranda either, simply because I don't share her insanely bad taste in men. I mean Steve, Skipper and that anal-guy from the park? Yeah, I'd hit those guys too... with a shovel. And lastly I am nothing like Samantha because I'm not attracted to every single being that has a penis and I lack the vast array of buttons she sports for anyone to push, regardless of looks, life or preferences. I need a personality to go with my sexual attraction, not just a lump of flesh.

So no, I won't be going to see the new Sex and the City movie anytime soon.

Shadow of the Colossus

Shadow of the Colossus is without doubt the most annoying piece of cocksucking shit game I have ever had the misfortune to lay my hands and eyes on.
At the first start of the game you find out that your mission is to blah blah blah, will this damn cutscene ever end?! There, just X past it. Jesus. Alright, you play as a character who was obviously molded after the adolescent Mort from the Discworld series, which means he looks as though he consist of nothing but kneecaps and elbows and can only be steered accordingly. To find out where your first object is, stand with your sword raised to the sky and look at where the reflection of the sun points. This also works while standing in shade, for unknown stupid reasons…

At least the horse looks cool, so let’s get up and have a little ride around on it. Mount with the triangle. No, mount. Mount, damn you! Stop jumping up and down beside the horse like a moron and fucking MOUNT! Phew, fucking finally. Okay, let’s give the horse a little kick to make it start trotting, followed by another few to get it moving with some actual speed. Yay, go horsie! Whaaa.. horsie stopped..? Kick the horse again, yay go horsie! And then horsie stops again. What the hell? Kick, kick, kick, steer, ooh… that’s where it goes wrong, you can’t steer the horse while maintaining any speed what so ever, but that’s cool, I can manage that. Would of course have been a bit nimbler if the horse hadn’t neighed itself into any obstacle bigger than a strand of grass along the way, but whatever, I’m fine.

OK, so we finally arrive at the place where the reflection pointed us. The horse will not accompany you any further on the next part as it’s unable to ascend mountains, even though we clearly saw it nancing up a slope with the agility of a mountain goat in the opening cutscene. So dismount (at least that can be managed by only pressing triangle ONCE) and start looking for a way up. Run around and try jumping and grabbing for a bit while the help messages ignore you until you’re on your third try on what looks like a slick sand wall with some green stuff painted on it. Climb up it. Don’t forget that you need to hold BOTH triangle and R1 to grab on, just as in any normal adventure game. Once you make it to the top, a colossus will appear walking away from you. Walk a bit closer and it will turn around and spot you. Oh, exciting! Grab your bow and shoot a few arrows before you realise they won’t cross the distance, so therefor take a few steps forward (not too many though, that colossus guy is fast!) and shoot him again, of course to no avail. Try running up to the colossus and stab away at whatever part of him you can reach and he will smash/stomp away two thirds of your life in one blow and as you painfully slowly get to your feet a message will appear to help you: again use the sword against the sunlight to reveal the colossus weak part. Oh awesome, that should even the fight out a bit you think, before realising that the exact spot is impossible to locate since the reflection appears the same on every part of your adversary.

With your health indicator blinking on low (and no, you cannot heal yourself) bravely charge at the colossus and slash at his ankles, intending to trip him and thus buying yourself some time to study the sword reflection from a safer distance without being trampled. Fail. Horribly. Game Over. Repeat until it dawns on you what sort of useless, boring and suicide invitatory game you have purchased and break it, burn it and smear rancid goat’s blood all over it.


Melinda calls up the love of her life. He loves her too
loves, loves, loves, damnit! 

so that’s not entirely a clumsy drunken thing to do. But Melinda makes it special, the way she makes every single bat of an eye a drug-liberal little miracle. She’s drunk but in a way she’s beautiful, even in the midst of making a spectacle of herself. When the last digit has been slowly and gently fingerfucked, like all the precious previous, she puts her feet up and leans
leans with her entire being, not just knees and boobs

 into the conversation. His voice is a cliché riddled clusterfuck of glowing hazel eyes, a dominant forehead and sweet sugary lips that’s only slightly chapped and even though she hates unconditioned lips she can’t prevent her mind from swooning and puckering up for that celestial, sligthly greywhite, wisp of his kiss.
He kisses her gently, cupping her chin and gently steadying her head and she would do nothing but relish it and maybe even melt a little if she could just
for one cocksucking minute 

disregard the fact that this is not how it’s supposed to be. There’s no such thing as being of the ‘wrong sex’ so why is she so persistent? Yes, he lives far away and the path that leads to him is littered with physical obstacles; seas, oceans, tears, ex-girlfriends, toilet seats left up for the last unforgiven time, but what do those things matter when he’s the third
meeeh, maybe fourth 

best thing that has ever happened to her? Then there are mental obstacles… Oh ho, the mental obstacles…
This is a request. 

She wishes to learn to relax. To chill and play it unsafe and let herself be swept away on this wave of undying, unconditional, unreal love that relentlessly carries her into his embrace. And she wishes that for one damn second of her life she wasn’t so fucking uncool.

Snow globe

Legal white powder dissolved in water, leaving close to transparent residue of bliss at the bottom of the bottle. I just gulp without thinking, refusing to deny myself the simple pleasure of intaking a drug I’ve become addicted to. Why bother about having to quit when there’s plenty at the moment? Tiny white crumbs twirling around in the water, inviting me to, if not dance, then at least take a little skip. Do a little jig. Rest my head. I’m not in too deep.
On another note, I never liked Vince Neil. He’s fat, whiny and untalented. Though God damnit how I cried when I read about his daughter in Mötley Crüe: The Dirt. My huge, swollen, gold sparkling heart aches and bleeds even for the people I can hardly stand.