Having seen the new Star Trek movie, I now kinda want to have a torrid affair with every single male member of the cast before eventually settling down and marrying Doctor McCoy.
( Cut for SPOILERS and nerdery. )
( Cut for SPOILERS and nerdery. )
Oh yeah, THAT'S why I keep doing this!
Apr. 27th, 2009 06:30 pmApparently, my writing does not suck! This is a source of intense relief. I was beginning to worry. Well, continuing to worry. And also starting to make jokes about changing my name and moving to Switzerland and never writing anything again. At least, I think I was joking. Maybe. But we'll never know whether or not I would have followed through on that joke/plan, because I have it on good authority and from multiple sources that my writing does not suck! HOORAY!
I wrote and directed a fifteen-minute comedy that I took to the regional One-Act Play Festival this past Saturday. From day one this play has been plagued with difficulties. Literally plagued. My lead actress caught some kind of Killer Martian Death Cold the week before opening night.
(The actress, AKA my kid sister, caught it from my Dad, who caught it from the receptionist at the doctor's office. I'm sure the irony will be hilarious someday, and I will make many jokes about the receptionist earning extra cash for drumming up repeat business, but I'm not... quite... there... yet.)
I spent the last few days frantically working through worst case scenarios.
"If Sis is too sick to go on, I take her place and perform the part."
"If the male lead catches her cold and becomes too sick to go on, I KILL HIM and then draft Sis's boyfriend and make him read the part."
"If lead actor, Sis, and Sister-boyfriend all get hit by a car five minutes before opening, I refuse to go to their funerals and meanwhile draft two random people out of the audience to perform a public reading of the script."
"If I get hit in the same car accident and die then.... well, then this play is no longer my problem and somebody ELSE can figure out what to do with the fifteen minute hole in the program."
But none of the worst case scenarios came to pass! Sis pounded down Buckley's and Fisherman's Friends and medicinal herbal teas and nasal sprays and crap and got through the whole fifteen minutes without coughing or sneezing once! (During. After final curtain she stepped offstage and doubled up on the floor hacking like mad. ) And both of them turned in such great performances! They were so good!
And the audience LAUGHED! I was so afraid they wouldn't. None of our test audiences did, the one or two people at a time who we were able to fit into the lead actor's apartment where we were rehearsing. They just sat there in silence and then said it was "nice." I was so afraid they were being nice, that they were lying to spare my feelings. But this audience, our first, real, more than two people sitting all together in a darkened theatre audience... They laughed. They laughed a lot. They laughed at lines I had long since forgotten were funny.
And the adjudicator asked for permission to use my script in her acting class as a classroom exercise for her students. And this guy who won the award for best actor kept coming up to me afterward to gush about how awesome he thought my script was, in great detail and with great enthusiasm.
And we didn't win anything, and I didn't expect to, but it doesn't matter. They liked it. They laughed.
And I don't have to go into hiding in Switzerland.
Until I finish writing the next one.
I wrote and directed a fifteen-minute comedy that I took to the regional One-Act Play Festival this past Saturday. From day one this play has been plagued with difficulties. Literally plagued. My lead actress caught some kind of Killer Martian Death Cold the week before opening night.
(The actress, AKA my kid sister, caught it from my Dad, who caught it from the receptionist at the doctor's office. I'm sure the irony will be hilarious someday, and I will make many jokes about the receptionist earning extra cash for drumming up repeat business, but I'm not... quite... there... yet.)
I spent the last few days frantically working through worst case scenarios.
"If Sis is too sick to go on, I take her place and perform the part."
"If the male lead catches her cold and becomes too sick to go on, I KILL HIM and then draft Sis's boyfriend and make him read the part."
"If lead actor, Sis, and Sister-boyfriend all get hit by a car five minutes before opening, I refuse to go to their funerals and meanwhile draft two random people out of the audience to perform a public reading of the script."
"If I get hit in the same car accident and die then.... well, then this play is no longer my problem and somebody ELSE can figure out what to do with the fifteen minute hole in the program."
But none of the worst case scenarios came to pass! Sis pounded down Buckley's and Fisherman's Friends and medicinal herbal teas and nasal sprays and crap and got through the whole fifteen minutes without coughing or sneezing once! (During. After final curtain she stepped offstage and doubled up on the floor hacking like mad. ) And both of them turned in such great performances! They were so good!
And the audience LAUGHED! I was so afraid they wouldn't. None of our test audiences did, the one or two people at a time who we were able to fit into the lead actor's apartment where we were rehearsing. They just sat there in silence and then said it was "nice." I was so afraid they were being nice, that they were lying to spare my feelings. But this audience, our first, real, more than two people sitting all together in a darkened theatre audience... They laughed. They laughed a lot. They laughed at lines I had long since forgotten were funny.
And the adjudicator asked for permission to use my script in her acting class as a classroom exercise for her students. And this guy who won the award for best actor kept coming up to me afterward to gush about how awesome he thought my script was, in great detail and with great enthusiasm.
And we didn't win anything, and I didn't expect to, but it doesn't matter. They liked it. They laughed.
And I don't have to go into hiding in Switzerland.
Until I finish writing the next one.
An update to Amazonfail
Apr. 13th, 2009 10:22 pmLooks like the explanation being leaked from Amazon is "human error" as described here.
And here's an explanation of why some books got de-listed and not others; apparently the categories “gay,” ”lesbian,” ”transgender,” “erotica,” and “sex” were the tags which got toggled as "adult" in the database. I'd been wondering: I'd noticed that Fumi Yoshinaga's award winning shounen-ai tinged drama Antique Bakery had been de-listed, when her much more explicit yaoi story Solfege had retained it's rank. When I looked at the metadata categories, Solfege is categorized as "yaoi," not "gay."
We all knew that the explanation was one of three things: stupidity, malice, or stupidity AND malice. If it turns out to be merely stupidity, then that's a great relief. It does not however, explain why this wasn't dealt with back in February, when the first of these cases started to be reported.
I'd like a detailed official explanation, an official apology, and some kind of statement regarding what's being done both to fix the current situation and to prevent it from ever happening again. Until then, I'm not going to wholeheartedly forgive them, but I will downgrade from "volcanically pissed-off" to "severely annoyed."
But I'm glad that I did get volcanically pissed off, and that so many other much more clever, connected, creative people did. People should get pissed off when something like this happens. No matter how it started, it ended with the voices of a minority being silenced, and FUCK that. Amazon didn't start dealing with this situation until it became the PR nightmare it did. It's nice to see a wrathful Internet working in the service of good.
And here's an explanation of why some books got de-listed and not others; apparently the categories “gay,” ”lesbian,” ”transgender,” “erotica,” and “sex” were the tags which got toggled as "adult" in the database. I'd been wondering: I'd noticed that Fumi Yoshinaga's award winning shounen-ai tinged drama Antique Bakery had been de-listed, when her much more explicit yaoi story Solfege had retained it's rank. When I looked at the metadata categories, Solfege is categorized as "yaoi," not "gay."
We all knew that the explanation was one of three things: stupidity, malice, or stupidity AND malice. If it turns out to be merely stupidity, then that's a great relief. It does not however, explain why this wasn't dealt with back in February, when the first of these cases started to be reported.
I'd like a detailed official explanation, an official apology, and some kind of statement regarding what's being done both to fix the current situation and to prevent it from ever happening again. Until then, I'm not going to wholeheartedly forgive them, but I will downgrade from "volcanically pissed-off" to "severely annoyed."
But I'm glad that I did get volcanically pissed off, and that so many other much more clever, connected, creative people did. People should get pissed off when something like this happens. No matter how it started, it ended with the voices of a minority being silenced, and FUCK that. Amazon didn't start dealing with this situation until it became the PR nightmare it did. It's nice to see a wrathful Internet working in the service of good.
Oh Bleep No.
Mar. 25th, 2009 08:43 amI would like to apologize in advance to my fellow Canadians, as I am about to seriously undermine our national reputation for being polite and easygoing. However, in an attempt to minimize the damage, I shall bleep out the curse words.
Ahem. [BLEEP] you, FOX. [BLEEP] you up the [BLEEP] and down the [BLEEP] with a rusty [BLEEP]ing [BLEEP], sideways, until it comes out your [BLEEP], you [BLEEPING] [BLEEPYMCBLEEPITYBLEEP]kitten[BLEEP]ers.
"Didn't know" we were in the [BLEEP]ing war? The one we joined eight [BLEEP]ing years ago to support the USA, our friend and ally, when it was attacked? Well, lucky you, you [BLEEP]s. I wish we didn't know. I bet these guys knew it pretty [BLEEP]ing well.
I gather this show is supposed to be "funny." Right. Real [BLEEP]ing funny. I bet the [BLEEP]ing families of this "ridiculous" country's soldiers, alive and dead, think this is just hi-[BLEEP]ing-larious.
Listen, nobody laughs at jokes about Canadians harder than Canadians do. We Canucks know funny. This? This, FOX, is not [BLEEP]ing funny.
On the Scans Daily thing.
Mar. 1st, 2009 08:27 pmI'm a little depressed about the loss of ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
scans_daily on livejournal. I know it's back already, but it'll take a while to rebuild, and what if our new home kicks us out too? The reasons and attitudes that got us shut down haven't gone away just because we've gone elsewhere.
I think what's depressing me most isn't so much the loss of the comm, it's why, and what some people are saying about it now. I suppose they'd been saying it all along, but I hadn't noticed, because I wasn't where they were. I was on Scans Daily, making jokes about Nightwing's ass or something. But apparently we were evil. We were pirates. We were taking food from creators' mouths. We were entitlement bitches who felt we had the right to steal comics instead of buying them like good boys and girls (mostly girls).
...It happens that I am currently in the process of sorting through my massive comic collection. It outgrew my shelves a while ago and spilled out onto the floor (which I maintain TOTALLY COUNTS as a very large, very low shelf). Last week I started to try to arrange the piles into different piles, in the faint, desperate hope that maybe I could get them organized and maybe back onto a shelf at some point.
So when I found out that Scans Daily was gone, and why some people thought that was a good thing, I just, sort of wandered over to the miniature cityscape of book skyscrapers I've got over there and started running my fingers over the spines, remembering.
( Memories... )
scans_daily on livejournal. I know it's back already, but it'll take a while to rebuild, and what if our new home kicks us out too? The reasons and attitudes that got us shut down haven't gone away just because we've gone elsewhere.I think what's depressing me most isn't so much the loss of the comm, it's why, and what some people are saying about it now. I suppose they'd been saying it all along, but I hadn't noticed, because I wasn't where they were. I was on Scans Daily, making jokes about Nightwing's ass or something. But apparently we were evil. We were pirates. We were taking food from creators' mouths. We were entitlement bitches who felt we had the right to steal comics instead of buying them like good boys and girls (mostly girls).
...It happens that I am currently in the process of sorting through my massive comic collection. It outgrew my shelves a while ago and spilled out onto the floor (which I maintain TOTALLY COUNTS as a very large, very low shelf). Last week I started to try to arrange the piles into different piles, in the faint, desperate hope that maybe I could get them organized and maybe back onto a shelf at some point.
So when I found out that Scans Daily was gone, and why some people thought that was a good thing, I just, sort of wandered over to the miniature cityscape of book skyscrapers I've got over there and started running my fingers over the spines, remembering.
( Memories... )
I am trying to branch out from adventure gaming, which is my home and native genre. I don't have the bandwidth allowance to play World of Warcraft without ridiculously hefty tithes to my provider, so I am tentatively trying my hand at some bargain-bin single-player RPGs my sister sent me. The transition is... difficult. I have all the finely honed combat skills of an earthworm. Even the earthworm might do better at some parts of the game than me. We sold worms for bait at one of my places of business, and many times have I witnessed the +5 boost to persuasion they get from their Pathetic Accusatory Wiggling skill. My character can manage the pathetic and the wiggling parts, but it never seems to have much effect on my digital enemies as I try to remember what the hell key I need to hit to draw my weapon while a wolf is cheerfully gnawing on my butt.
Looting comes a bit more naturally. One thing RPGs and adventure games seem to have in common is that if it ain't nailed down, take it, so I'm quite cheerfully picking corpses clean and gathering herbs like there's no tomorrow. But it won't let me pick up the rope. This is... FOREIGN to me. The one item in every adventure game you will ALWAYS find a use for, that you will ALWAYS need! If I don't pick up the rope, I'll regret it! I'll have to climb something or tie someone up or there will be a, a, a character who will only talk to us if we prove our worth by demonstrating our skills at knot-tying, I DON'T KNOW! It's ROPE! You don't pass up rope! But in this game, not only do you pass up rope, you don't even see rope! You walk right by rope without even acknowledging that it's there! This feels somehow sacriligious.
Sigh. I shall keep trying. The rest of the gaming world seems to think this sort of thing is the tops, and I did enjoy Warcraft during the brief time I was able to try playing it. (World of Warcraft! Combat so easy, earthworms can play! And possibly participate in guild chat, which would explain some of the spelling.)
And I AM enjoying the herb gathering. ("Oooh! Pretty plant!")
But right now, the demo for A Vampyre Story has finished downloading, and I believe I shall give that a try. It involves an opera singing vampiress, and puzzles, and perhaps, maybe, possibly, even rope. Much more my speed.
Looting comes a bit more naturally. One thing RPGs and adventure games seem to have in common is that if it ain't nailed down, take it, so I'm quite cheerfully picking corpses clean and gathering herbs like there's no tomorrow. But it won't let me pick up the rope. This is... FOREIGN to me. The one item in every adventure game you will ALWAYS find a use for, that you will ALWAYS need! If I don't pick up the rope, I'll regret it! I'll have to climb something or tie someone up or there will be a, a, a character who will only talk to us if we prove our worth by demonstrating our skills at knot-tying, I DON'T KNOW! It's ROPE! You don't pass up rope! But in this game, not only do you pass up rope, you don't even see rope! You walk right by rope without even acknowledging that it's there! This feels somehow sacriligious.
Sigh. I shall keep trying. The rest of the gaming world seems to think this sort of thing is the tops, and I did enjoy Warcraft during the brief time I was able to try playing it. (World of Warcraft! Combat so easy, earthworms can play! And possibly participate in guild chat, which would explain some of the spelling.)
And I AM enjoying the herb gathering. ("Oooh! Pretty plant!")
But right now, the demo for A Vampyre Story has finished downloading, and I believe I shall give that a try. It involves an opera singing vampiress, and puzzles, and perhaps, maybe, possibly, even rope. Much more my speed.
Aw. Just when it was getting good.
Dec. 4th, 2008 10:48 pmPhooey. For a while there, Canadian politics were EXCITING. I mean, we had an honest to goodness coup! Granted, it was a very, very Canadian coup, which was strictly legal and by the book and involved a great deal of letter-writing and, for a few hours this morning, a live round the clock door watch. SUSPENSE!
"As you can see, we are still waiting for the Governor-General's front door to open, and Stephen Harper to get his pasty butt out here and tell us whether or not he's still Prime-Minister."
"Wait, wait! It's opening!"
"And is there, yes, yes, I believe someone is coming out, and... oh. No, no, it appears it is just a security guard coming to close the doors, which blew open, and now there is a draft."
"That's the third time that's happened, isn't it?"
"Yes it is. In other news, the microphone boom guy is going to walk off a leg cramp, and we are sending Doug to get some double-doubles and Timbits."
All that build up, with the angry speech-making, and the breathless door-watching... The end came as a helluvan anti-climax. The Governor General came out of her hole, saw her shadow, and gave us six more weeks of Harper.
Sigh. Sorry, opposition parties. No coup for you. Not 'til January, anyway. Well, at least we don't have another damn election. Yet.
"As you can see, we are still waiting for the Governor-General's front door to open, and Stephen Harper to get his pasty butt out here and tell us whether or not he's still Prime-Minister."
"Wait, wait! It's opening!"
"And is there, yes, yes, I believe someone is coming out, and... oh. No, no, it appears it is just a security guard coming to close the doors, which blew open, and now there is a draft."
"That's the third time that's happened, isn't it?"
"Yes it is. In other news, the microphone boom guy is going to walk off a leg cramp, and we are sending Doug to get some double-doubles and Timbits."
All that build up, with the angry speech-making, and the breathless door-watching... The end came as a helluvan anti-climax. The Governor General came out of her hole, saw her shadow, and gave us six more weeks of Harper.
Sigh. Sorry, opposition parties. No coup for you. Not 'til January, anyway. Well, at least we don't have another damn election. Yet.
Election Envy
Nov. 2nd, 2008 09:48 pmIt's the day before the day before the Americans have their election, and I want to get something off my chest. As a Canadian, when I mention my nationality, a LOT of leftier Americans jokingly ask me if they can come sleep on my couch, or live in my basement, or set up a tent in my backyard. Initially, it made me feel amused and kinda smug. My country is awesomer and everybody wants to live here, yay.
But lately... lately my reaction has been deep sinking gloom or unexpected blazes of anger, and where the Hell did that come from?
I couldn't understand it, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I think I have it now.
Us Canadians had an election recently, too. A relatively quiet do, wouldn't be suprised if nobody else noticed. Hell, some of us might not have noticed. Anyway, a recent article I read said that 15% of Canadians said they would have given up their right to vote in our last election if it meant they could be allowed to vote in the next American election. Which is stupid and crazy and shame on you, 15%, but.... God damn it, I understand the impulse. Because I am Canadian, I like being Canadian, I like voting in Canadian elections... but I really, really wish I could vote in the American election too. The USA is our next-door neighbour, one of our biggest trading partners, our closest ally. Everything that the Americans do influences us. Who the Americans pick as their next president has a HUGE impact on Canada, on the entire rest of the world, and the entire rest of the world can't do anything about it.
I can't do anything about it.
All I can do is bloody WATCH.
It's... sickening. Maddening. Crazy-making. I'm helpless. I'm completely powerless. I'm a citizen of a free democratic country with suffrage who has reached the age of majority, I'm not supposed to ever be powerless, that's the whole POINT. But in this, I am.
And the Americans who want to leave America and live in my crawlspace or whatever... they're not. They're not powerless. And I'm jealous. Not of being American, I don't want to be American, GOD no. Not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that, but I LIKE winter and health care and the metric system and spelling neighbour with a 'u'. But I AM jealous of that power, that control. And when they joke about giving that up, running away... I get depressed, and mad. It's not their fault. They're kidding, and paying me and my country a compliment. It's just that I would give so much not to be helpless.
So, to my liberal American friends who have asked or were thinking of asking: No. I'm so, so sorry, but no. I love you, and I'd love to have you, but you can't crash on my couch, or live in my basement, or pitch a tent in my backyard. For three reasons:
But lately... lately my reaction has been deep sinking gloom or unexpected blazes of anger, and where the Hell did that come from?
I couldn't understand it, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I think I have it now.
Us Canadians had an election recently, too. A relatively quiet do, wouldn't be suprised if nobody else noticed. Hell, some of us might not have noticed. Anyway, a recent article I read said that 15% of Canadians said they would have given up their right to vote in our last election if it meant they could be allowed to vote in the next American election. Which is stupid and crazy and shame on you, 15%, but.... God damn it, I understand the impulse. Because I am Canadian, I like being Canadian, I like voting in Canadian elections... but I really, really wish I could vote in the American election too. The USA is our next-door neighbour, one of our biggest trading partners, our closest ally. Everything that the Americans do influences us. Who the Americans pick as their next president has a HUGE impact on Canada, on the entire rest of the world, and the entire rest of the world can't do anything about it.
I can't do anything about it.
All I can do is bloody WATCH.
It's... sickening. Maddening. Crazy-making. I'm helpless. I'm completely powerless. I'm a citizen of a free democratic country with suffrage who has reached the age of majority, I'm not supposed to ever be powerless, that's the whole POINT. But in this, I am.
And the Americans who want to leave America and live in my crawlspace or whatever... they're not. They're not powerless. And I'm jealous. Not of being American, I don't want to be American, GOD no. Not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that, but I LIKE winter and health care and the metric system and spelling neighbour with a 'u'. But I AM jealous of that power, that control. And when they joke about giving that up, running away... I get depressed, and mad. It's not their fault. They're kidding, and paying me and my country a compliment. It's just that I would give so much not to be helpless.
So, to my liberal American friends who have asked or were thinking of asking: No. I'm so, so sorry, but no. I love you, and I'd love to have you, but you can't crash on my couch, or live in my basement, or pitch a tent in my backyard. For three reasons:
1. If I let you in, I'd have to let everyone in who asked, and there is just not enough room.
2. Guys, Canada is not far enough away. Trust me on this. I wish it were, but it's not. All those problems Stateside? They can and do reach us here, and we have plenty of our own. Do you think that economic collapse will stop at the border? That a recession or a depression will hit the fourty-ninth parallel and go WHOA, hold it, too cold for me, take a left and stick to devastating Spokane? That war and terror and bigotry can't touch you here? I wish.
3. Most importantly, I can't let you come here for the very selfish reason that I need you where you are. I need you to stay, and vote, and make sure the good guys win. And if you try, and the bad guys win anyway, I still need you to stay. So that you can FIX it.
Because I can't. I'm way over here. You have to get it for me. I can't reach.New HallowMini comic!
Oct. 27th, 2008 06:17 pmBecause I wanted to be the cool house in my neighbourhood on Halloween, and because I wanted to reward the Trick-or-Treaters who shopped local instead of getting their parents to drive them to the suburbs on Halloween night, I started doing an annual minicomic to hand out at the door with the candy and cookies. After falling off the internet for a couple years, I'm now trying to ease back into webcomicry, and so...
New HallowMini for 2008! Because brains need Halloween candy too! Make sure you click back to read the two previous stories, if you haven't seen them. There's a printable version linked at the end of each comic. Just print and fold to make a book, repeat as necessary for the number of 'treaters you expect to get.
And a small note on this year's comic...
( Mild spoilers behind cut... )
New HallowMini for 2008! Because brains need Halloween candy too! Make sure you click back to read the two previous stories, if you haven't seen them. There's a printable version linked at the end of each comic. Just print and fold to make a book, repeat as necessary for the number of 'treaters you expect to get.
And a small note on this year's comic...
( Mild spoilers behind cut... )
Yesterday I found out that some rather important paperwork got lost in the mail, and as a result the government is under the (mistaken) impression that I owe them four hundred dollars.
Today I totalled my mom's car.
I begin to suspect that the cabbage that savagely bit me on Tuesday was in fact cursed.
I am uncertain what the correct procedure is to reverse the bad luck brought on by a cursed cabbage. The only thing I can think of is that coleslaw should be involved. And perhaps holy water. But would the making of coleslaw frighten away bad-cabbage-luck, or merely further anger the ancient and terrible Elder Cabbage Gods?
For now, I think I shall go to bed with all the covers pulled over my head and whimper for a while.
Today I totalled my mom's car.
I begin to suspect that the cabbage that savagely bit me on Tuesday was in fact cursed.
I am uncertain what the correct procedure is to reverse the bad luck brought on by a cursed cabbage. The only thing I can think of is that coleslaw should be involved. And perhaps holy water. But would the making of coleslaw frighten away bad-cabbage-luck, or merely further anger the ancient and terrible Elder Cabbage Gods?
For now, I think I shall go to bed with all the covers pulled over my head and whimper for a while.
GodDAMN but I hate being female sometimes. "Aunt Flo" is being a particular bitch this month. I've had the appetite of an anorexic canary all day, been sick as a bulimic dog all evening, and now, NOW, in the middle of the night, my appetite has suddenly returned with a vengeance.
An oddly specific vengeance. I want sushi. No, that's not right. This requires capitals. And bolded text. I WANT SUSHI. I would currently perform unspeakable acts for a kappamaki. I would break laws written and unwritten for a California roll. If there were a tray of spicy tuna on one side of the room and an enraged rabid grizzly bear dripping bloody froth from her gleaming fangs onto the carpet between myself and said tray, I would launch myself at the bear without hesitation.
And then the bear would eat me and then the tuna, but I would MAKE THE ATTEMPT.
This is a particularly strange compulsion because I don't even LIKE sushi all that much. I've only been out for sushi twice, with friends, and thought it was okay, I guess, sort of. Figured it was an acquired taste, and since there is not a single seller of sushi within an hour's drive from my house, I haven't had much opportunity to acquire it. Except now it seems I HAVE acquired it. Abruptly. Near midnight. At the aforementioned house, with the said sushi sellers the previously stated hour's drive away, and not open. And since I previously had no particular fondness for sushi, there is nothing remotely resembling sushi-making ingredients or equipment anywhere in my house, else I would be frantically rolling, or possibly just devouring whole sheets of nori and drinking rice vinegar straight from the bottle.
I ended up devouring sweet pickles and peanut butter on stoned wheat thins, which for some reason my stomach and ovaries have decided is the closest acceptable sushi substitute among the available options. Don't ask me. Ask the hormones. Geeze, it's like being pregnant. I know I'm not, because A) Like I said, I am currently receiving a visitation from Aunt Flo, and B) I am not nor have I recently received a visitation from the Archangel Gabriel. Which is a damn shame, really, because if I had, I could send the Archangel out to get me some #$!*ING SUSHI.
...I need more pickles.
An oddly specific vengeance. I want sushi. No, that's not right. This requires capitals. And bolded text. I WANT SUSHI. I would currently perform unspeakable acts for a kappamaki. I would break laws written and unwritten for a California roll. If there were a tray of spicy tuna on one side of the room and an enraged rabid grizzly bear dripping bloody froth from her gleaming fangs onto the carpet between myself and said tray, I would launch myself at the bear without hesitation.
And then the bear would eat me and then the tuna, but I would MAKE THE ATTEMPT.
This is a particularly strange compulsion because I don't even LIKE sushi all that much. I've only been out for sushi twice, with friends, and thought it was okay, I guess, sort of. Figured it was an acquired taste, and since there is not a single seller of sushi within an hour's drive from my house, I haven't had much opportunity to acquire it. Except now it seems I HAVE acquired it. Abruptly. Near midnight. At the aforementioned house, with the said sushi sellers the previously stated hour's drive away, and not open. And since I previously had no particular fondness for sushi, there is nothing remotely resembling sushi-making ingredients or equipment anywhere in my house, else I would be frantically rolling, or possibly just devouring whole sheets of nori and drinking rice vinegar straight from the bottle.
I ended up devouring sweet pickles and peanut butter on stoned wheat thins, which for some reason my stomach and ovaries have decided is the closest acceptable sushi substitute among the available options. Don't ask me. Ask the hormones. Geeze, it's like being pregnant. I know I'm not, because A) Like I said, I am currently receiving a visitation from Aunt Flo, and B) I am not nor have I recently received a visitation from the Archangel Gabriel. Which is a damn shame, really, because if I had, I could send the Archangel out to get me some #$!*ING SUSHI.
...I need more pickles.
I just had my first class in "Japanese through Contemporary Texts."
It took me half an hour to translate the sentence "Before reading the main text, please prepare by studying the following words."
....
I am SCREWED.
It took me half an hour to translate the sentence "Before reading the main text, please prepare by studying the following words."
....
I am SCREWED.
It's time for another Good Idea, Bad Idea.
Nov. 9th, 2007 11:32 pmGood Idea: New sci-fi series by Joss Whedon, starring Eliza Dushku!
Bad Idea: New sci-fi series by Joss Whedon, starring Eliza Dushku..... on Fox.
Dammit, Joss and Eliza, BOTH of you should know better!
Sigh. I'm sure all seven episodes will be wonderful.
Bad Idea: New sci-fi series by Joss Whedon, starring Eliza Dushku..... on Fox.
Dammit, Joss and Eliza, BOTH of you should know better!
Sigh. I'm sure all seven episodes will be wonderful.
Upon costuming, creativity, and cash
Nov. 4th, 2007 10:20 amAll Hallows Eve has come and gone again for another year. It went well, I think. This year, I was dressed as Pablo Picasso's "Girl Before a Mirror." I'm surprised more people weren't able to guess what I was, in the general if not the specific, given that
A: I had painted my face, neck, upper-chest and shoulders in a cubist style.
B: I was FRAMED (carrying a wooden frame around strapped to my waist and shoulders to hold it in place)
C: I was SIGNED ("Piccasso," on my left shoulder.)
(And yes, I know that's a misspelling, it's hard to sign your own shoulder.)
(...So I didn't. It's Mom's fault.)
(...I love you, Mom. Even if you can't spell.)
A: I had painted my face, neck, upper-chest and shoulders in a cubist style.
B: I was FRAMED (carrying a wooden frame around strapped to my waist and shoulders to hold it in place)
C: I was SIGNED ("Piccasso," on my left shoulder.)
(And yes, I know that's a misspelling, it's hard to sign your own shoulder.)
(...So I didn't. It's Mom's fault.)
(...I love you, Mom. Even if you can't spell.)
( Read more... )
Nice birdy...
Jun. 4th, 2007 12:23 amTaking a walk around the lake, I was struck by how different people's reactions to wildlife can be. A few weeks ago, ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ursulav posted to her lj about a bobcat sighting in LA, and how her agent's response was to freak out and ask if she had a gun.
My reaction to THAT was indignance. Probably because I did most of my growing up, and still live, in a semi-rural area in the foothills. I was taught from a very early age the various conflicting theories regarding how to deal with BEARS. ("Make noise!" "Don't make noise!" "Play dead!" "They're freakin' carrion eaters!" "Climb a tree!" "Dude, the bear's a better climber than you'll ever be." The general consensus I've managed to glean is stay calm and try not to look edible.) The neighbourhood cork-board holds missives regarding community picnics, babysitters for hire, and recent cougar sightings.
We supposedly have bobcats and lynxes, but I've never seen one, because the things are nocturnal and skittish as hell. They eat VOLES. And bunnies. I'm bigger than a bunny. I figure I have very little to fear from the smaller wildcats, so long as I don't try to pet one or something.
Ditto for the coyotes. Every so often I get a mass-e-mailing from the university saying "ALERT! A coyote has been sighted near campus! Remain calm!"
You see a lot of coyotes in my neighbourhood. Most coyotes you'll meet are smart, lazy opportunists. They want maximum food for minimum effort. Generally, standing your ground and looking stern convinces them that bugging you is too much work:
******************
Coyote: (wanders into campsite looking hopeful)
Me: "Don't even THINK about it."
Coyote: (wanders off looking resigned)
******************
So yeah, the animals that seem to freak out the city-mouse folk? Don't really frighten me.
The animals that do?
Geese.
Canada geese.
Don't laugh. We have a big flock near here, and while I like 'em well enough, I would never cross the beasties. Those suckers are MEAN. And cranky. And they could break your arm with a wing. I have never met a single person who has been attacked by a coyote. But I had a friend who was chased all the way home on her bike by an angry goose. Apparently, the sound of a bike horn bears a remarkable resemblance to goose language for "Up yours, pillow stuffing! Your mother humps mallards!" The translation is approximate, of course, but extrapolating from the gander's reaction, it's pretty close.
And CITY geese are worse. They're even less afraid of people, and they'll just stand in front of you, blocking the sidewalk and honking menacingly.
I find myself using those techniques I learned for dealing with bears: Chattering in a polite friendly manner while backing slowly away...
******************
Me: Good evening!
Goose: HONK.
Me: Yes, and a very nice honk to you too.
Goose: HONK.
Me: Nice honk we're having, isn't it?
Goose: (flaps wings threateningly)
Me: Oh god please don't hurt me.
******************
So, those were my thoughts as I was walking my dog past the lake, trying to keep him from chasing them and thus inviting aquatic avian retribution. A country upbringing gives you a very different perspective on wildlife threat assessment.
ursulav posted to her lj about a bobcat sighting in LA, and how her agent's response was to freak out and ask if she had a gun.My reaction to THAT was indignance. Probably because I did most of my growing up, and still live, in a semi-rural area in the foothills. I was taught from a very early age the various conflicting theories regarding how to deal with BEARS. ("Make noise!" "Don't make noise!" "Play dead!" "They're freakin' carrion eaters!" "Climb a tree!" "Dude, the bear's a better climber than you'll ever be." The general consensus I've managed to glean is stay calm and try not to look edible.) The neighbourhood cork-board holds missives regarding community picnics, babysitters for hire, and recent cougar sightings.
We supposedly have bobcats and lynxes, but I've never seen one, because the things are nocturnal and skittish as hell. They eat VOLES. And bunnies. I'm bigger than a bunny. I figure I have very little to fear from the smaller wildcats, so long as I don't try to pet one or something.
Ditto for the coyotes. Every so often I get a mass-e-mailing from the university saying "ALERT! A coyote has been sighted near campus! Remain calm!"
You see a lot of coyotes in my neighbourhood. Most coyotes you'll meet are smart, lazy opportunists. They want maximum food for minimum effort. Generally, standing your ground and looking stern convinces them that bugging you is too much work:
******************
Coyote: (wanders into campsite looking hopeful)
Me: "Don't even THINK about it."
Coyote: (wanders off looking resigned)
******************
So yeah, the animals that seem to freak out the city-mouse folk? Don't really frighten me.
The animals that do?
Geese.
Canada geese.
Don't laugh. We have a big flock near here, and while I like 'em well enough, I would never cross the beasties. Those suckers are MEAN. And cranky. And they could break your arm with a wing. I have never met a single person who has been attacked by a coyote. But I had a friend who was chased all the way home on her bike by an angry goose. Apparently, the sound of a bike horn bears a remarkable resemblance to goose language for "Up yours, pillow stuffing! Your mother humps mallards!" The translation is approximate, of course, but extrapolating from the gander's reaction, it's pretty close.
And CITY geese are worse. They're even less afraid of people, and they'll just stand in front of you, blocking the sidewalk and honking menacingly.
I find myself using those techniques I learned for dealing with bears: Chattering in a polite friendly manner while backing slowly away...
******************
Me: Good evening!
Goose: HONK.
Me: Yes, and a very nice honk to you too.
Goose: HONK.
Me: Nice honk we're having, isn't it?
Goose: (flaps wings threateningly)
Me: Oh god please don't hurt me.
******************
So, those were my thoughts as I was walking my dog past the lake, trying to keep him from chasing them and thus inviting aquatic avian retribution. A country upbringing gives you a very different perspective on wildlife threat assessment.
Here goes nothing...
Mar. 31st, 2007 11:21 amGleep. Well, I have finally decided to cave and get a Livejournal account. Darnit. One more thing to which I will have to remember the password to and probably won't have time to update. Ah, well.
I am quite certain no one is reading this. If you are... well, good grief. Um, hello. Where did YOU come from? I was't really expecting company at this stage, but let me see if I can find you a nice cup of tea or something.
I am quite certain no one is reading this. If you are... well, good grief. Um, hello. Where did YOU come from? I was't really expecting company at this stage, but let me see if I can find you a nice cup of tea or something.
