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kellymae Blog

Is this Idaho? Becuase I WILL NOT limbo in Idaho

I hate music now. Sincerely. With a passion that burns like fire. So, when I found this my frozen heart did a happy little jump. That right there is the best thing to come out of the video era in the whole history of the medium. Somebody needs to call the vma's and let them know these people just won every category.

If you have some time to kill, check out the bad lip reading for walking dead. Totally worth it.

We will now revert to our regular programming

Screw it, keeping a bunch of different blogs is kind of a pain.  I'm just going back to being my sarcastic yet caustically amusing self right back here where home is. 

I am going to try and post my collection (well some of my collection pics today) be patient, I am pretty much useless when it comes to computers. 

When they are posted, this is not even a 1/10 of the horde that is my collection.  I have a storage unit with nothing but gaming stuff in it and now it aaaaaaaall gets to come home.  Yay me.

Finished Jurassic Park and would give it one velociraptor out of five just because I got to use Velociraptor in a sentence. 

Hope everyone is ok, having a nice weekend and whatnot. 


Hey Everybody

I've been asked a couple of time why, much like the seperation of church and state, I don't do the same thing with stuff, and game related stuff.  So I made a blog

It's here.

It's actually fairly amusing.  At least I amuse myself.  Go check it out cuz it's fun. 

Can someone please, please tell me why I am being unendingly punished

Storm went to the vet today because he had developed a large lump on his left hip over the last 15 days. It looked like maybe an infection or maybe he'd partially dislocated it and it had gone back in but with swelling. When it didn't go away and he started to lose weight I took him in immediately. I went from oh it's just some silly bump to your dog has terminal and extremely aggressive bone cancer. The new vet, not dr Horton who is now retired gave me his very practiced so sorry and nothing we can do, nothing you could have done differently, not hereditary speech while silent tears rolled down my face and I listened quietly. He then informed me that my dog is in extreme pain but we can medicate for that so you can say your goodbyes. And then still completely without any affect he says, he maybe has a month, but the pain may be to severe before then. A f ucking month. My dog turned 3 in March. He said he has seen this type of wildfire bone cancer before but never in a dog so young. So I ask you, can anyone tell me why it is that I seem to be the rock that everything I love smashes against and breaks. I really need an answer. Christopher is of course completely devastated. I myself have gone to basket case and we are all trying to act like nothing is wrong around the dog because when we stress so does he.

Now that my game collection is finally safe I have started to get stuff out

I have been getting stuff out of storage for a couple of days and Karl went and got me some really beautiful display cases and I've stared to put out my stuff.  My god the stuff.  I have stuff I forgot I had.

Once the game room is finally done.  Yes, the never ending game room, I will get my arcade games brought home. 

We decided to switch christopher into Seths room and turn christophers room into the game room.  Coming along slowly but surely. 

My god, the games.  My catalogue is nowhere near complete on here.  I have literally 2 dozen boxes of uncatalogued games.  Large boxes.  I am very much looking forward to getting that done, and to finally being able to display all of my really cool sh1t.  Karl said he'd take some pics for me and upload them for me so I can show you guys what I have done so far.  I would really really like for you to see. 

I have so many cool things.  My chainsaw controller, the artwork from WETA for Halo, all my collectors edition things, my my Giant Master Chief. My original atari.  My limited edition Halo xbox.  My several limited edition 360s.   My cog tags from gears of war, my talking Marcus Fenix, my arkham asylum stuff.  The list really does go on and on and on.  I can't wait to finally have it all properly displayed in one place so I can look at it every day. 

Can't believe it is finally going to happen. 

So, Here is the First Chapter of My Book

I would really like it if you would read it and comment.  I will accept any and all criticism, constuctive or otherwise.  It's already been vetted.  Please let me know what you think.  Thanks.

I was five the day my dad shot me.  He and my mother had been having a liquor fueled knock down drag out for what seemed like forever.  When you were five, it always seemed like forever.  One never ending nightmare.

I did my best to comfort my little brother who was only three with coloring and stories. Every once in a while I would let him help me throw a couple of logs on the fire in the great room where we played. We played there instead of in my room out of the way because the fireplace was the only room with any heat.  My parents drank almost everything they made.  By the third week of the month we were generally out of oil, food, soap and occasionally toilet paper.  I can still feel his terror, like a live thing coiled around him.  At three years old my baby brother was terrified. 

My older brothers had abandoned the house hours before, having long since learned the drill.  My brother Bobby had been willing to take me with him but not to tote a three year old as well, so Id stayed.  I kept one eye on my brother and both ears on the sounds emanating from the kitchen.  I was prepared to move quickly if the fight moved closer. 

They got around me somehow.  The house had so many freaking rooms.  Instead of the usual path of destruction, hurricane McFadden had moved through the servants entrance, down the back stairs and was suddenly only 30ft from myself and my precious brother.  I jumped in front of him out of some basic instinct. There was no thought behind it; it was just something that I did.  Some basic effort to protect the weak I guess.  It was at that moment I felt a searing pain in my thigh and then heard a big bang.  I looked up to see my completely stupefied parents looking back at me. They were separated by a 22 long rifle, both of them with their hands on it. 

They had obviously been fighting over the gun.  My brother watched in horror as my leg began to spurt blood and screamed a scream I still hear at night sometimes.  I looked down more puzzled than concerned to see a hole through the thigh of my right leg.  And then it hurt.  As soon as I saw that hole and the blood fairly gushing out of my leg it hurt so bad I wanted to die.  The concept of wanting to die, to just not be was also not new and it flit through my tired little mind that they could have at least aimed a bit higher. This frozen tableau could have lasted for hours as far as I was concerned.  In reality it lasted no more than a minute.  A minute of my drunken parents mouths gaping utterly stunned that this had just happened.  I watched as the wheels began to turn about how they were going to explain my latest little accident to the hospital.  And during that whole time, neither one of them came to me to see how bad Id been hit.  It was my three year old brother, hysterical who ran for the bathroom and some rags, Band-Aids and iodine. He came back to me, still sobbing uncontrollably and tried his very best to staunch the flow of blood coming from my leg.

  My father had staggered over to me by then, much more sober than he had been only two or three minutes before.  He took the rags from my brother and turned his head to my mother and bellowed at her to at least try and do something with the boy.  I cringed then because something usually meant smack him till he shut up.  Even she was too stunned to perform her by now rote response.  She reached for him and he cringed back from her.  I saw the anger ramp up in her eyes again but self-preservation kicked in at the last second and she simply picked him up and began to bounce and rock him telling him I was going to be fine.  My father had tied a rudimentary tourniquet around my leg having no idea if hed hit an artery or anything, only knowing I was bleeding a lot.  He grabbed me up and ran me out to the car where my mother and brother were already waiting.  The only words spoken on the way to the hospital were the story I was supposed to tell.  There was nothing but the sound of my brother quietly crying and an occasional moan from me.  I could see black at the corners of my eyes when we screamed to a stop at the Brantford General Emergency room.

  I remember the anger on my fathers face as he dragged me out of the back seat and ran with into the emergency room.  He basically just tossed me at the first nurse he saw.  Shes been accidentally shot he said and the emphasis on accidentally told me everything I needed to know.  I sighed inwardly at the look of naked pain in the nurses eyes.  She must be new I thought, as the nurse took me gently from my father. She barked quickly and took me to a trauma room.      Her name was Angela. She was very nice even if I did think she was sort of a baby at the time.  She kept patting my hand and telling me I was going to be ok.  I barked out a sardonic laugh completely by accident and told her I was pretty sure I was going to live.  She told me she was surprised I wasnt crying.  I shrugged, purposely non -committal.

 The doctor got to the emergency room in record time. A gunshot wound in a small town is a very rare thing.  He took off the tourniquet my father had tied, took a rudimentary look at the wound, and loaded me up with a local to at least kill the searing pain for a bit and sent me for an x-ray.  So far so good I thought.  Nobody had asked me what happened.  The x-ray revealed that my leg was not broken and the bullet had passed harmlessly through my thigh.  There was some damage to the muscle, but all in all, things could have been much worse.  The doctor began gently packing the hole in my leg.  The local hed given me made it so I didnt feel much pain. The amount of pain to my shell never mattered to me, it never got anywhere near the pain that lived on the inside of my shell.  He watched my eyes intently as he worked.  Can you tell me what happened he finally asked me?  I was really hoping he wasnt going to do that, but he did.  Im not sure I started, lying like a pro. Lying like a pro at five years old.  The gun was stood up against the wall by the door.  We keep it there because of the coyotes.  All the banging around from me and my brother playing must have knocked it down or something.  Then I had a hole in my leg.  The whole time I talked the doctor watched my eyes.  He knew I was lying and I knew he knew, but I was not going to budge from that story not one bit so it was pretty much a done deal.  I prayed my dad had been as vague as humanly possible.  He had been.  It was he himself that told me once that the best lies always had a kernel of truth to them and mine did. The gun did reside by the door and it was there for coyotes.  It was always kept loaded.  Back then that was not a big deal.  I just left out the part where it had been picked up and wrestled over.  The doctor wasnt a stupid man. Not only was there no way a gun on the floor had put a hole in my leg that high up, but my parents were both beat up, they were both seriously impaired and I was shot.  He had pretty much figured out what had happened within five minutes of me hitting the ER.  He nodded.  Ok he said, ok.  He went out and spoke to my parents and ten minutes later my dad came in to collect me. 

He put his hand out for me like I was supposed to take it and walk out of there.  I couldnt walk.  It took him several moments to realize his mistake and he picked me up and carried me out to the car.  Just another Saturday night at the McFadden house.

I have had the best day I have had in a really long time.

I spent an entire day doing nothing but GAMING!!  Gaming, as in on my 360.  Since 8 this morning.  Played Bio-shock infinite through.  Great game, weird ending. 

Karl, cooked, cleaned, entertained Christopher, and helped him start switching his room around.  He looked after the dogs, and occasionally brought me Pepsi and food.  He made homemade pizza for dinner.

Possibly the best day I have had in about 10 years. 

Bioshock Infinite

I ventured out from my cave briefly today because it's easter weekend and while I don't care that it is Easter weekend, I do care that my son gets a goody because it's easter weekend.  I got him Bioshock infinite.  I got him hooked on Bioshock and now he is like a junkie looking for a fix.  So, I guess my sons game addiction is now being fueled by his enabling mother. 

Been a while since I've just gone out and randomly bought something without having to do several math calculations in my head.  It was kind of cool.  Anyway, the boy will have Bioshock to wake up too in the morning.  Oh and chocolate, sooooo much chocolate.

I'm cooking turkey for Good Friday and a ham Easter Sunday.  I haven't been cooking much.  Well, I have obviously been cooking, just not up to my usual standards.  I decided that has to change.  So, I'm going to do a full blown dinner with all the trimmings two days this week.  Yay me.

Everything else remains the same.  Oh, except i woke up the other day to a bag of shotgun shells placed ever so lovingly in my mudroom.  Take that for whatever you will.  I gave them to the police because I know how I took it.