...you finally have a night with no threat of errands and heavy physical labor looming ahead for the next day, you fall exhausted into bed, and dream the whole night long and even that goes horribly wrong.

More specifically, you dream of Viggo Mortensen who wants you to run off with him and is propositioning left and right and you ACTUALLY say, "Sorry, Viggo, I've got work to do."

Never have I woken up more angry, even more so than the last time Viggo appeared in a dream and it was some Stephen King nightmare instead of, oh, something more pleasant and what one would expect when one of the ingredients is Viggo Mortensen.

I think I've worked too hard this "vacation."

"Quiet moments"? What are these "quiet moments" that other people seem to enjoy? :P

A sample of my after-work life at home. It's no wonder I'm deaf. Imagine having that screech right in your ear, which Peachy has done on a number of occasions when she's been on my shoulder & decided that was the time to freak out about something.

And the little guy, Robin Hood, ADORES Peachy. Loves her with the heat of a million Romeos.

It's that time of year where I can only think of Spring and start making a list of stuff to do once good weather gets here. For 2009, ripping up the carpet and old linoleum on the upper floor (aka converted attic), knocking out the wall along the stairs and finish turning the upstairs into a loft-like arrangement. Still too cold up there in the winter, and it'll improve air flow tremendously in the summer so I won't have to rely on the AC so much for the 5 rabbits up there. Stripping wallpaper -- the worst part of all -- will also have to be done, and repainting. And the last thing will be to lay some laminate flooring. I'll be busy! Won't have much time to write, what with my Susie Renovator project and Massive Victory Garden out on the back lawn. That part of it sucks, but once I get involved in renovation, I thoroughly enjoy it.

So I have to clean out my room since everything will have to come out of it. Pitching stuff left and right, and what do I find? I kept a reading log from 1998-2000. I read something like 76,000 pages. I even tallied it up nice at the end so I could boggle when I came across it 9 years later. I read The Winds of War AND War and Remembrance (a total of 2400 pages) in 2 1/2 months. I read a 600 page book in a week. Lots of books I gave up on and left a snarky comment. So many books I don't even remember, like "The Last Innnocent Hour" by Margot Abbot which I had to look up on Amazon to refresh my memory. And it just goes to show you how many, let's say, "edgy" things I've read in fanfiction that I completely forgot that the heroine in that book is raped by SS Officer Reinhard Heydrich using a gun barrel. O_o  At least that's what I wrote, in a thoroughly grossed-out tone, at the time. Nowadays, I wouldn't even look at that twice. Fandom really has jaded me. I wonder how I would have reacted if I had stumbled across "Celebrian". Probably barfed. If you don't know what "Celebrian" is, keep walking, Grasshopper, and don't stray off your path.

Oh, go ahead and Google "Celebrian" and "badfic", and don't forget the brain bleach.

The whole point of this post is that I really REALLY miss reading so much, but that was before oodles of pets and I started writing fanfic in earnest. There's really no question of giving one up for the other. I'd feel like I'd lost no matter the decision.

I hate children. But that has nothing to do with the intense hatred I have (and increasingly so, with every newest article) for that fuck-stupid breeding sow in California, she of the clown car vagina. In fact, I've mustered quite a bit of sympathy for the 14 unfortunates who have a long life of anti-depressants and psychiatric treatment ahead of them. Some parents don't deserve their children's loyalty, and I hope that one day, when they're of age, they're able to put the painful circumstances of their birth behind them as well as the stupid woman who took advantage of a broken system in order to replicate herself more times than this planet can sustain. I hope the insanity ends there, and the cycle of dysfunction comes to a full stop. But the odds are that one girl will try to either outdo Mom in quantity or have a massive litter to prove that she can take care of them where her Mommy failed. Why do people from bottle baby families end up drinking themselves? You'd think there would be object lessons aplenty, but the same trap is effective over and over. And I'm not talking about my family here. Oh, heavens no! :-\

And according to her interview on Today, her "only child" status when young made Nadya Suleman feel the need to have the closeness that children could give her. Not with one, and not even with two (thus avoiding that nasty "only child" stigma), but going whole hog with 14. What a vain, ignorant fucktard. And if she's mentally ill? (Gee, ya think?) She slipped through a fuck lot of holes in the system for this to have gone on as long as it did. Her parents share the blame as well.

And now I read tonight that she managed to collect $165,000 in disability over 6 years for an on the job back injury at the mental hospital where she worked (on the wrong side of the bars IMO). 6 years, during which she bore her first 6 kids. Now, last thing I knew, pregnancy wasn't easy on the back. Her medical history should have shown that. So why was she implanted over and over? The doctors had a responsibility, and they failed. The insurance industry failed by shelling out payments year after year. And Suleman herself is one epic fail. It's hard to know where to begin.

$165,000 in disability....I grossed only $15,000 more than that working full time for the same period. What I actually brought home is quite less because $5,000 a year goes towards insurance that I hardly fucking use. She took a disproportionate share of insurance money so she could work through her childhood issues by pumping out children like that Catholic family in "Meaning of Life". I have no problems paying that $5,000 that I don't use, but WILL be used by someone for chemotherapy or bone marrow transplants. Conditions that are tragic and unavoidable. But this sperm receptacle blatantly abused the system, and I sure as shit would be livid if my premiums ended up paying her bills.

I'm wondering if these baby-related companies that usually leap onto PR bonanzas like these litter births will steer clear of this one. It's got a taint on it that is of Blagojevich-ian proportions. The fertility doctors, for one. And now the disability revelations. I wonder how some fellow insurance-holders from that company are feeling after hearing that she managed to collect so much disability and yet continued behavior that exacerbates said injury. If someone was denied treatment for an illness or had problems collecting benefits that they had paid premiums for, and yet Suleman sucked at the teat for 6 years while being wildly irresponsible? I'd be pretty pissed.

People can call this whole story a distraction, but it's shone a very bright light on a sick and broken health care system - deregulated, and based purely on profit. This is what needs to be cleaned up, but don't count on it ever, ever happening. Obama doesn't have the will for it, and the Republicans are bent on obstructing until 2010 when they can point with glee to a do-nothing President and Dem Congress and try to sweep to victory. That's the limit of their vision, and this country will suffer for it.

Saw this quiz on a friend's LJ and because I'm bored at work... I have to say, it's pretty much what I expected :P (Although I don't see a bag on that staff.)

You are The Fool

The Fool is the card of infinite possibilities. The bag on the staff indicates that he has all he need to do or be anything he wants, he has only to stop and unpack. He is on his way to a brand new beginning. But the card carries a little bark of warning as well. Stop daydreaming and fantasising and watch your step, lest you fall and end up looking the fool.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Sometimes I wish I'd just get a cold every winter and then be disease-free the rest of the year. But it seems that the lack of colds and flu for 3 years comes at the price of having the blahs for the entire year round. The number of foods that make me feel rotten are hit and miss and constantly changing, so it's not like it's Celiac's Disease or anything (at least from what I know about it). In 2007 it was lactose stuff that had me hating food & getting me intimately acquainted with one room in particular. Feh. Probably just stress - not like I have a dearth of it or anything. When the sister moves out in March, maybe things will pick up. *crosses fingers* I'm sick of watching booze bottles disappear in a week. She's off the Paxil (no coverage), so I guess she's going with what she thinks is a good substitute: Tequila & Steel Reserve. When someone says that they "have" to drink beer with pizza or else it doesn't taste right, it just sounds lame to me. Call me a humorless teetotaller, but raging bottle babies on both sides of the family tends to make me leery of the stuff. There's been plenty of cousins, etc. who think they're invulnerable until, you know, they're not.

I'm really seized with an urge to be bland and mundane today. Performance review went went, supervisor is sympathetic, and job is secure...for the time being. Not willing to ask for more, really.

$30 just got shelled out for a Paid Account on this site. I was getting really sick of culling the userpic herd every month or so. Now I've got 100 and probably will go crazy because I'll have TOO MUCH choice. :P But now I can let my fangirl freak flag fly & not feel cramped at all. Yay me.

It's still cold here, with weekly arctic blasts. I stay inside unless I can't, then I move really REALLY fast. I've never wanted to dig around in dirt and rabbit shit so badly as when the garden's all covered in snow.

And cool! Something to look out for in the night sky for the next few weeks.

www.brianmay.com/brian/brianssb/brianssbjan09a.html#07

I like to stargaze anyway, so even if I can't see anything special, there's always something else to see. I'm even happy to see the Milky Way, even though it's a landing strip over my house and it's always there.

Because two people in my office let their, well, bitchy hormones get the better of them one day a couple weeks ago & the boss allegedly spazzed and made a federal case of it with da bigwigs, we all got corralled into a workshop about working nice with each other.

Those are always fun. :-|

It was done under the cover of "tough economic times and stress" but I've heard different. We were admonished to not gossip anymore. Sorry, but 20 women (and only 2 guys) in a huge office....there's gonna be gossip about every conceivable topic and person. Too much estrogen. Not enough testosterone. I've heard tons of sniping - it's a spectator sport for me (and a fun one at that - observing creatures in their native environment!), but I don't participate. Mainly because I'm so unobservant and apathetic about peoples' personal lives (marriage & children = anathema) that I never have anything unique to contribute. I don't notice new hairstyles, I hate shopping, chit-chat bores me. I feel like a guy most days anyway and I even buy men's clothes because they're cheaper. Fruit of the Loom is my Bargain Underwear God.

( Read more... )

Mom made a little coat for her brother's Yorkie, but it was way too small. Patterns are utter crap nowadays. Nothing seems to be even close to the right size. It was even too small for my mini Rex - and she was so happy that I decided to put it on her. Not.



( More disapproval )

So sorry about the puppies, Kat! Parting is such sweet sorrow, but they'll be in good homes! As promised, picspam to go along with the slashfic. I knew I'd uploaded all those Izzy pics long ago for a good reason. ;-)

Axl only wishes he could top. That pose doesn't fool me. The boy is such a bottom.


( More Izzy spam )

Not in the habit of makin' 'em, and think even less of the tradition. It usually ends up making you feel bad that you were an utter failure over the course of 365 days where, one would assume, you could get shit done. Oh, that year I lost 75 pounds was GREAT (so long ago! *sniff*) but 38 of them have snuck back on me. Mostly in the "rack" area, sure, but it's deepened my already considerable envy of the itty bitty titty committees of the world. (Oh to be able to RUN without incurring injury or stretch marks. Double the D, double the pain.)

But in a casual conversation with dear Kat, fanfic ally, about said topic, I remembered that I completed a resolution - in January, when I posted a chapter in my Eudorus/Andromache fic, I promised I'd finish it this year. Woohoo! And so I did, with a month to spare. So, go me. And at least a fic can't unfinish itself or gain weight. It STAYS done. Unless, you know, you think up a completely unnecessary and vainglorious sequel. Which I won't. I don't think.

So let's try another whack at this resolution thing. 2008 was a good year, 2007 less so (aka The Year of Four Dead Rabbits and a $2000 Vet Tab).

I think this will be the year of my shameless Minna Gale/Lawrence Barrett story. After 14 years, it's about time I got it written in a way I like. The previous version was a total Mary Sue and a mess, with bad pr0n as the icing on the sickening cake. But that was before I left my last job (with its sad lack of "sit on your butt all day and get paid to cruise the internet and pretend you're working" - woe, how did I survive?!) and discovered the world of fanfic with its admitted dreck, but also the shining jewels that have been better than ANY English class.

Oh, and reading. I've been way too ADD on that front for months and months. I couldn't even stick with Colleen McCullough's book on Antony & Cleopatra for more than a few pages and I love that series with a passion - although once Sulla died, the hotness factor of that series did dim considerably. No amount of Caesar pr0n & worship can change my mind about that, Colleen. *laments and pulls toga over head*

Yeah, yeah, "President Obama" is nice and all and I'm really psyched about it. Not that I'll ever travel abroad again, but maybe the era of shame and "I'm Canadian!" will come to a temporary end. Not that I had to defend myself when I went to Finland and Estonia - those Finns were too busy getting drunk and playing karoke on the ferry boat to argue foreign policy.

Never underestimate America to royally eff up something good. Once the mess gets all cleaned up, I'm sure a majority will get all nostalgic for Republicans again and we'll find ourselves in another hole which some lucky Democrat will have to pull us out of. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I must say, though, that the bitter GOP tears have been ambrosia to my soul. Didn't take me long to acquire a taste for that. Joe Scarborough's dropping F bombs on live TV and doesn't seem aware he'd doing it. Poor wingers are short circuiting. Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of tools.

Even though it's important we not relax and keep an eye on things, I'm tired. I have tons of critters to take care of and I've found a renewed creative streak. Not writing by the ream (those were my Mary Sue days), but I've produced more lately than I have in the preceding 6 months or more. It's great to have an inspiring character (hello thar, Eudorus!) and a clear mind. Stars are aligned and I'm parking my butt to take advantage of it.

Snapped on the way to work. Those fluffy goslings of only a month ago are now gawky teenagers. *sniff*

This is just testing how to do cuts. I don't do LJ often so it's like relearning it every single time. Shame on me for not spending half my life on the intarwebz. In other news, I've got to kick my Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin OTP obsession. I love even the worst fics. Gah, it's like crack.

( Like, OMG, a picture! )

I'm seriously annoyed with myself for getting into fanfiction and falling into bad habits - i.e., not ever finishing something. Two long fics that are dangling, dwindling readership, even less reviewers, and my 15-years-running obsession will have to wait....for a while longer. WIPs + No Free Time To Write = Suck.

Yeah, I know: CRY MOAR!!!

You'll get your novel one day, Larry. Love ya, babe.

I'd feel daft loving Lawrence Barrett as I do. However, there's an entire Booth family obsessive out there on LJ, so I'm pretty low-key in comparison. I keep it under wraps online and off, except for my sister. She gladly feeds my squeeing fangirl.

It's just that his 170th birthday was last month and the itch to finally FINALLY write my story about him has been bugging me ever since. *sigh*

(And is it weird that I have a Sims of him?)

It looks like the neighbor lady took it to heart and my mother said that the house is looking cleaner, so that's a success. I hope this burst of motivation holds.

On a sadder note, I lost my dear bunny Snowball to GI stasis. I have no idea how she got it. She wasn't eating fruit or gassy vegetables. Bunnies are such a mystery. *sniff* Once again, I'm watching the others with an eagle eye, especially the New Zealand Whites. They have been the ones I've lost in such rapid succession to digestive problems.

I've moved my basement bunnies upstairs, and Mom is now sleeping in the living room. LOL Hey, she offered to do it, so I couldn't refuse. That cellar was getting pretty dank (damn northeastern humidity) and summer's showing no signs of going away. The buns seem much happier and I can't blame them. It's nice to have them right on hand to peep through the door and say hi or go in and give them scritches on their wee nosies.

Mitzi got spayed a week ago and she's become a pain med junkie. When I kneeled down on the floor with the syringe, she'd hop right over to lap at it and suck on it like a bottle! She didn't need all the meds, so I've been giving her water instead. She still thinks she's getting the sweet painkiller. LOL Frosty was like that, too, after her spay. The med is very sweet and bunnies are junk food junkies if you let them (and I don't - all those yogurt chip crap and stuff I avoid). I may be overweight, but I don't let my critters get that way.

My brave little Dantes, semi-crippled in his hind end, has found a girlfriend through his barricade. Vixen grooms him when he sticks his head through. Since she beat up both Snowball and Frosty, who were much larger than she was, I'm afraid that even though he's her size, she would get aggressive. Then again, she might not. But he's pretty bony, and I'm trying to get him to bulk up, though at 8 years old, he's on his downhill slide anyway and he was skin and bones when I rescued him. A nip from her would rip his skin open and I've already dealt with that kind of injury before. Rabbit skin is like paper and a small gash opens up pretty fast.

What else...? Oh, I'm reading a horrible, huge book about silent Hollywood. It reads like the worst, shallowest Real Person Slash imaginable. The main character grows up in Kansas, screws Gary Cooper and blows Buddy Rogers before they were famous, and then goes off to Hollywood to sleep with everyone from Valentino to Thomas Ince to Douglas Fairbanks Sr (and Jr) to William Boyd to Thomas Meighan. It's a self-insert (bwah!) to the umpteenth degree - pure wish fulfillment. And I can laugh, because I wrote stories like that about Silent Hollywood and Europe with my own characters when I was 16. Alas, it was hetero. If I'd gone the gay route, I might have a chance of getting published! Apparently the title pool of gay lit is REALLY small to have a book like that become a genre classic.

I'd go post about it to Golden Silents, but the mod there is such an uptight Republican prig that she wouldn't see the humor of rampant gay promoscuity concerning her most beloved actors. Yikes, if she knew someone was "sullying" Richard Barthelmess's name like that, she'd explode! MWAHAHAHAHA!

Funnily enough, I'd pulled out my wretched little fangirl fiction awhile ago and have been re-reading it. It's just awful! And after reading an atrocious book by Philippa Gregory ("A Respectable Trade") and now this huge tome of suckitude, I'm in MST heaven right about now. I gotta be careful, or the sheer amount of cheese will kill me. I best put off watching "Red Zone Cuba" for a few months. Coleman Francis would push me right over the edge.

Hmmm...I might one day decide to post that epic crap of mine. I mean, who wouldn't want to read a story about a barefoot orange-picker who gets initiated by Ford Sterling and then goes on to add Buster Keaton, Wheeler Oakman, Lon Chaney, Manfred von Richthofen, James McCudden, Giacomo Lauri-Volpi, Bernhard Goetzke, Ernst Udet, Feodor Chaliapin, and scads of others to her list of conquests - badly-written sex and pointless dialogue. I mean, it's just Lit That Can't Lose!

Right?

Right???

(I should note that my awful writing was the only creative outlet I had throughout high school and college, so it kept me sane enough to graduate with honors and then cum laude. So badfic does have its place!)