This is a comic that is awesome. It is about two friends, Beartato and Reginald. They do, uh, friendy stuff.

I am attempting to find a picture of Mr. Darcy from the newer Pride and Prejudice movie that does justice to him, but I cannot. Just as the old Mr. Darcy looked as if his pants were much too tight in the crotch and he was suffering horribly, the new one looks like a puppy that has been repeatedly kicked and cannot understand why.
 
 His slightly longer neck is better able to withstand a cravat than Colin Firth's, and his voice is about two octaves deeper. This version is even more socially awkward than in the old one, but at least he does not randomly take off his shirt to fence/take a bath for the camera. Thank goodness.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that Keira Knightley can, apparently, be non-annoying on occasion. If I had only seen her in this movie, I think I would rather like her. Now, if only I could convince myself that Elizabeth Swann was as pleasant as Elizabeth Bennet...

In other news, Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer have gone off on a week-long no internet vacation and it is causing me to go into Twitter withdrawal. I'm following a lot of other people but none of them ever update (I'm looking at you, Terry Pratchett). Curse Twitter and its useless addictiveness!

Speaking of addictiveness, I'm starting to catalogue my books on LibraryThing...which is going to take forever, because of course I have to look at my copy and find out which edition and cover I own, otherwise it wouldn't be accurate. That would be bad.

Speaking of bad (just follow my train of thought here) this computer's mouse has been acting up, and just now it randomly took me back a page in the middle of writing a note on facebook. Evil thing. Stupid Death Eater computer (Its name is Malus Quidam, if you don't remember. No relation to the Christian children's book Landon Snow & the Shadows of Malus Quidam, from a series recommended for fans of Narnia on the website but obviously written for fans of Harry Potter [the author's name is R.K. Mortenson. I mean, come on], which of course they wouldn't use as an advertising gimmick for a Christian book.). Okay, forget the parantheses, now I am thinking about all the "Charmingly named child and the Magical Object/Place Name" books that have been churned out recently. Percy Jackson & the Olympians is actually the series name, with individual books named things like "The Lightning Thief" and "The Sea of Monsters"; then you have books like "Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo" (which involved, among other characters, an obnoxious Dobby rip-off named Clover and a great warrior named Geth who is trapped in the form of a toothpick). There was another book of the same sort I have read at the library, but I can't remember the main character's name...it was something like Octavius or Optimus, I think. It was an exciting tale that involved children being switched at birth and *gasp* developing magical powers and stuff. No, no, I tell a lie: the name of the main character (and series) was Septimus Heap. I knew it was a numerical name. And the series does not have the Character Name and the Noun Phrase naming system; the books are named "Magyk", "Flyte", Physik", and "Queste". "Then there's the Underland Chronicles, which start innocently enough with "Gregor the Overlander" and then continue with "Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane" and "Gregor and the Curse of the Warmbloods". I'm sure there are many, many more but I can't call any to mind right now.

Elizabeth is waiting for me to watch Batman with her (Nanananannana BATMAN!)
Whoa, I just realized the Teen Titans theme song is by Puffy AmiYumi and that's why it sounds like the same people in English as in Japanese! Durrrrr.

Anyway, that's all for now, folks. Fun is fun and done is done.

I would hover my mouse over the little "New Weblog Entry" button, then sigh soulfully and move it away. Because I am a lazy bum, who cannot stop reading Nightwing comics long enough to type a blog entry. Yes, it's pathetic, I know.
But I like Nightwing comics. And Sandman comics. And Birds of Prey comics. And, er, Batman comics (shamed face).
Who watched a Batman movie at 1:00 AM with Janene the other night? Not Hannah, surely! Of course not. It must have been some other 17-year-old friend of Janene's with too much hair and a custom-made peace sign necklace. She has tons of those friends, right, Nene?

---

On June 25th I got home from school, sat down on the couch, and watched TV with Bliz. I don't remember what we were watching; probably What Not to Wear or something brilliant like that.
We finished our program.
We sighed in satisfaction and scrolled through the DVR list. "Oh, look! We have an episode of Dr. Who! Hoorah, let's watch it!" said we.
"First, I need to go check for eggs," said Bliz, always practical.
I sat and waited for approximately 30 seconds before getting bored and following her outside, where I poked around on the patio. I spied the rabbit cage. I had a brilliant idea.
"Pamplemousse!" (I cried) "You are going to come and watch Dr. Who with me!" I siezed Pamplemousse and took her into the house. As I did, I had a fleeting thought-- "But what if Elizabeth sees that she's not in her cage and gets worried? No," I decided, "Nobody ever bothers to look into the rabbit hutch. It will be fine."
Approximately 2 minutes later, Bliz came bursting into the house exclaiming, "Hannah! I can't find Pamplemousse and there's something moving in her cage!"
I rushed to her side, only pausing to deposit Pamplemousse in the bathroom because she was wriggling too much to take her to her cage.
I reached into Pamplemousse's house and pulled out--a hideous wrinkled creature which bore a strange resemblance to a shrunken pug dog!
"OMG BAYBEESSS" I commented intelligently, as Bliz calmly became hysterical.

---

There were four of them: 2 black and 2 a lovely mixture of their mother (light grey lop) and their father (orange rex). One of the mixed ones died over the weekend, and the other lost part of his foot--but after an e. coli scare, some strange green poop, weeks of feeding the other mixed one (the runt) from the bottle (which Mama is still doing) and weighing them nervously to make sure they're getting fed, the rabbits have grown quite a bit, opened their eyes, and become quite good at walking/hopping/crawling. We named them: Pasteque ("Watermelon"), who is the biggest, Pantoufle ("Slippers"), who is average-sized, and Papillion ("Butterfly") who is the spastic runt.

Because three rabbit kits were just not enough babies for us, we also have six baby chicks running around the patio, and we bought a pregnant goat (who eventually ended up being named Pora, because we were all too lazy to gather together and find the perfect name) who had her baby 2 weeks ago on July 2nd, also while I was at school because apparently our animals hate me or something. He (the kid) is adorable and utterly perfect, but we thought she had another in there because she was still huge and had gone into labor a second time so we got our veterinarian neighbor (whose name I am not going to attempt to spell) and he came over to do a C-section. There were nine people in our kitchen, all gathered around the goat who was laid out on the kitchen table with a lot of towels. Most of us stood around watching with a sheet clutched up under our collective chins (we had been warned there may be splattering) while he cut her open and stuck his arm in her side to figure out what was happening. It turned out her uterus was full of gas, not babies, and it took him quite a while to stuff it back into her because it was like a giant balloon. It was quite disturbing. Eventually, however, he managed to get it back in, and then it was a race to get all the stitches in while she was struggling for breath because of fluid buildup in her lungs. Ruminants are not supposed to lie on their sides for a long time. Anyway, he got her stitched up, and we watched her all night (well, I only watched her for a couple hours and then went to bed, because I had gotten up at 4:00 that morning to study for a test) and she survived; and now, after a couple days of penicillin injections and antiseptic spray and so on, she's doing quite well. The baby is amazingly cute and bounces around everywhere. I like to kidnap him and bring him into the house and make him sit on my lap while I watch TV.

Animals are so fun.

---

I discovered a lovely Steampunk band (sort of thanks to Neil Gaiman) called Abney Park who, I just discovered, are going to be doing a show here on Friday. Unfortunately, that is only four days away, which really isn't enough notice to make plans. Also unfortunately, their concert is at some sort of weird goth nightclub and you have to be 17 or older to attend, which of course is fine for me but Bliz wouldn't be able to go with me and there is no way I would ever go alone, if I could go, that is, which I can't, because it's this Friday and costs $15-20 (not sure which) and I've already spent my allowance this month (sad, I know) so there is NO USE THINKING ABOUT IT, HANNAH.
I wish bands would stop coming here only when I can't possibly go, coughTokioHotelcoughLM.Ccough. I love Abney Park. Because they are Steampunk. And I am nerdily in love with Steampunk as much as or more than I am nerdily in love with comic books.
Speaking of which, I now totally wish they would make a Nightwing movie. I've seen several of the Batman movies and most of them are really pathetic. Unfortunately, knowing the kind of actors generally chosen for my favorite fictional characters (coughKeanuReevesasSpikeSpiegelcough), they'd probably cast someone totally inappropriate to play Dick, like, I don't know, Ewan McGregor or something. Actually, Elizabeth and I discussed this possibility while watching Moulin Rouge with Janene.
We decided that it would be all right as long as they employed a very modern filming technique in which they only show the main character from the side.

Like so.
Because if he turned around towards the front we would see this:

And possibly start crying, because we are weak souls, and because Nightwing is supposed to be pretty, dosh-garn it, pretty, and we've already suffered enough from the ugliness of the various Batmans. Er, Batmen. Whatever. It's a sad day when the prettiest Batman is Christian Bale, gah.
Also, I think the very idea of Ewan McGregor in spandex is enough to make about anyone cry.

Elizabeth, being the brilliant person she is, suggested Sean Maher from Firefly:

But I, personally, am leaning more towards Ben Barnes, who already has the hair for it.

ANYway, now that I am feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself for spending so much time discussing the prettiness of various actors in the context of a comic book character, I think I shall change the subject.

---

Er. Um. School?
I am not tired of school. Never.
I'm thoroughly tired of looking at things under microscopes, is all. Pee. And vaginal swabs. And semen. And ear swabs, and skin scrapes, and fine needle aspirates, and blah dee blah blah blah. Tomorrow I think we are finally moving on towards microbiology, which hopefully will involve a little bit less microscope work. Of course, I hate microbiology (my hands were not made for things like getting samples without touching the sides of the test tube, or innoculating gel...they end up twitching and the little loop goes "thwack thwack thwack" against the side of the tube), but you can't win them all.
The last Clin Path II test was hard, too, bleah. I got an 87.something with is simply shameful, considering I had an extra night to study as I had an ortho appointment on that day. I studied quite a bit. I thought I knew the notes by heart. Ha, she said bitterly.
Oh well. The semester shall be over soon and hopefully I shall get more As to make up for that B.

Jephthah is watching something on TV with asians in it. I am easily distracted by asians.

I noticed recently that there is a certain trend developing in my music tastes: I like rock bands with male lead singers, asian pop groups with male lead singers, steampunk bands with male lead singers...but as far as solo artists, unless they're Miyavi or Hyde or Gackt, I tend to like sort of artsy-odd female singers. It's a certain type of music, too..."alternative", perhaps, is the best word for it. I tend to sort of get them all mixed up in my head, though.
People like Tori Amos,

and Vienna Teng,

and Imogen Heap,

who I sometimes get confused with Regina Spektor ,

and Emilie Autumn,

who I somehow managed to get confused with Amanda Palmer,

who is dating Neil Gaiman.
It is all very confusing. Unnecessarily confusing, most likely, because I could probably just go search them up whenever I can't remember who wrote what song or who wore the dress with the frogs and lilypads (Imogen). But then again, I tend to unnecessarily confuse myself a lot about music, like when I'm lying in bed at night trying to figure out which of Linkin Park's main singers is the one with the pretty voice (I believe it's Chester. I thought for a while it might be Mike, but I'm going to stick with Chester.)

This entry has too many pictures of celebrities in it. I think I shall stop now.

I promise I'm going to make more of an effort to update. I'm such a lazy bum.
...

Goat!