National Domestigraphic

Exploring The Great Indoors

Farewell Old Fellow

Written By: alb3rt - Jan• 09•11

We had a good time of it, old friend.  You were always there for me and soothed my transition when we moved to the new preserve.  May you always have a living room surrounding you. Actually I heard the next door neighbors immediately took you into their family upon seeing you perched upon our curb.  It’s good to know you’ll be loved, and sat upon, yet another lifetime.

I’ve been informed I’m “not a Jedi … yet.” Not sure what that means.

Written By: alb3rt - Jan• 01•11

For Christmas, I got a new outfit from Build-A-Bear. It’s some kind of desert garb that comes with some sort of pointy, shiny, ice cream cone of death. Maybe it’s supposed to be Santa’s bodyguard or something. It came in a Farmville special deliver box.  Nice touch, Ken, nice touch.

Ken has a similar outfit, sans the cone, and we went to some kind of space protest in front of the store. There was even a really tall bear called Chewing Bacca. I think that’s his Indian name. Somehow the pictures of all of us got lost, but maybe that’s a good thing.

Here’s one of just me for now, on the slopes of the new couch. With a ginger bread guy.

New Archaeological Find!

Written By: alb3rt - Dec• 06•10

A sudden climate shift outside the indoor preserve yielded a discovery more significant than any of our yearly couch excavations.  The game warden ventured out a few days ago, digging a few feet into the permafrost to reveal what appears to be the corner of a domocile the size of a small sport utility vehicle.  Oddly enough, the dwelling also seems to have been designed to be suspended above the ground by rubber tires.

The big discovery at the dig site.

It seems in times past things were not much different than today, with sidewalks, lawns, and  the occassional, assorted animal feces.  The apparent random discarding of frozen wrappers  and other packaging seems to indicate the fate of previous civilization was some sudden cataclysm.  But one thing is certain: they must be our progenitors, as the many of the name brands of the ancient ones persist to this day.

We can only wonder if some future man, and koala, will shovel upon our own leavings and ponder what we left behind. I’m thinking bigger living quarters with less tires and feces.

Ready to Command

Written By: alb3rt - Nov• 05•10

With dual remote capability, I commandeered the control center for the television for a short while.  It’s good to be Alb3rt.

Farmville is Love? Or is it Science?

Written By: alb3rt - Nov• 04•10

First, I’d like to thank all my neighbors out there. Thanks.

With Ken’s organizational skills rivaling the Roman empire at its height, my farm has lots of animals, buildings, and even a winery. I made a lot of new friends through the game warden’s face bookings, but I’m still not sure how one’s farm can expand when you have more neighbors. You’d think there would be less room. And the more you give away, like love, the more you get back in return. Or so they say.

I have a more scientific theory why it works that way. I understand my farm is on a server somewhere, so it’s a server farm. Servers farms aren’t made up of physical matter but math. And it’s all zeroes and ones. So instead of being a zero-sum economy, it’s a one-sum economy. Which means when you get something, you take away nothing from someone else. It all makes sense. So maybe the world needs to live on a server farm and make everything out of math instead of stuff.

We have the technology.

Autumn: The Season Where Koalas Turn to Thoughts of … Aliens

Written By: alb3rt - Oct• 11•10

It’s that time of year again where the planets align such that alien fruits migrate to our silvery orb. I seemed to have slept through much of last year’s visitations, but orange scouts have already arrived in various sizes at our doorstep.  What is worse is that Ken and the game warden seem to be encouraging our outworldly guests.  Last week, a beacon was lit out front, a smiling welcome that surely can be seen from space.

Aquatic Additions

Written By: alb3rt - Aug• 24•10

We introduced a new species of “Fair Fish” into the main observation tank in the library.  I helped.  But I didn’t get the equipment I requisited.  Here is a pic of how I looked, next to one of how I should have looked.

I Am a Level 12 Wizard. Or Something.

Written By: alb3rt - Jul• 30•10

Farmville is very complicated.  I’ve fought off weeds and raccoons. I dig up and reap lots of tiny squares day after day like some macabre French Intensive vegetarian grim reaper.

And Ken wont let me play with the music on.

I don’t know why everyone in this game grows all this food. Are there starving villages in Africa without access to a high speed Internet connection? I can’t help but feel there is some little child across the globe wondering when my raspberry plants will be ready to harvest.

But I shouldn’t be so negative. I get to find homes for lots of lost animals and I give lots of gifts I find. But really … who leaves cans of gasoline laying around a field about to be run over with a tractor?

I just hope the raccoons don’t hit me with a Mohawk grenade.

My Face Is Now Booked

Written By: alb3rt - Jul• 12•10

Ken and his wife, the Warden, have been suggesting for some time I book my face online.  So here it is.

Albert Koala

I’m not sure what it’s all about but it’s kinda like if my LiveJournal and this blog had children. Not sure why I need all this sociable medium stuff but it gives me something to do away from the smallcats. After Ken set it up I found other people’s faces I recognized and became friends with them.  But they were already friends.  Now our faces are friends and it’s like they are all at a face party. All the time. Even when we’re not there. Creepy at first.

I heard a lot  from the Warden about a place for faces you can go to called Farmville.  I signed up and they gave me some land to tell my face to take care of.  It appears to be like the Peace Corp, but for your face. But the job training is free and will prove quite useful if I ever allowed to bring dirt in the house.

Alb3rt Out and About

Written By: alb3rt - Jan• 11•09

I don’t get out of the preserve often, and that is for the best. The rest of the world is so confusing sometimes. We (the Warden, Ken, and I) went to some “gate” in the South yesterday. It looked more like a shopping plaza. Didn’t stay long, but we had to pick up a cake.

In the wild, or at least at the preserve, cakes live solitary and choose a cold environment for some sort of hibernation. This protects them from predators, usually human, who will slice them up and eat them if they leave their hibernation state for too long. Oddly, they tend to be consumed AFTER their predators have already eaten other things. And once the feeding begins, they move rather quickly, whereas they are otherwise describable only as dormant.

But this environment is a cake paradise. They live communally in great numbers here.  The whole environment is in some sort of impending micro-climate ice age, and they are so comfortable, they even have name tags or plaques for their respective spaces, unafraid and unaware of their brothers’ plight in warmer environs.

We picked one out to bring back to the preserve, but I fear that it will end up like so many others. Even if hidden from view, Ken and the Warden cannot help but show them off to visitors. And then the frenzy begins. Not the prettiest sight.