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Permalink So I’ve been having so much fun lately. Seriously, you’re probably doing yourself a favor by not clicking. Being a girl is just…the entire X chromosome can just go fuck itself, okay?
Aaaaaaaand I just logged out of Gmail. *headdesk* Now I get to log back in so that I might eventually post this. Urgh. I may need protein.
I also need to stop opening Sideshow emails, because no matter how much I skim, sooner or later I spy a goodie that wants to join the perpetual, time-traveling ass-rape of my wallet. This particular bastard looks like he’s really enjoying it, too. Well, smirk away, fucker, because at $150 your ass is so far down the list that even Athena can’t make you out.
*sighs* I need to just win the Lottery. Then I can get all my girl-parts removed and bury myself in dolls and maybe even get Lasik and the happy would last me at least a week before the guilt set in.
….its a nice dream, anyway.
Permalink Watching “Up” when I was already emotional and messy was probably not my best idea. I mean, for the most part its fun and cute and sweet and funny, but it also has these beautiful, touching, bittersweet (and sometimes just bitter) pieces and cue me-as-waterfall.
Probably didn’t help that I kind of identified with the old man.
Bah. Not gonna cry again. My head hurts a lot and I really can’t stand tears right now. Stupid self.
Permalink I can’t quite figure out why Australia is suddenly so pissy about Britney lately. Is she so unpopular there that word is only now spreading to the general public? Or is the vast majority of their population really that stupid? Is there something in the air, that only a handful escape with their braincells intact, and I somehow know the few intelligent survivors personally? ARE YOU PEOPLE SERIOUSLY ONLY JUST NOW FIGURING OUT SHE LIP-SYNCS? REALLY?
I just don’t even know, y’all.
In other news…there is no other news, really. I’m heinously depressed, and thus not up to much of anything, and please god don’t let this be my holiday funk settling in early, because even the thought of two more months of this (or, y’know, longer if I’m really unlucky and it lingers) makes me want to cry and choke and drown myself in the sink. I want a doll. I don’t know why, I just do, and its not even a yen for a specific doll, although I can certainly think of ones I’d prefer, but I just want a doll. I can’t have a doll, though, because we are broke and already bought the house Christmas present (a Wii! …that we have no games for) and whatever sick power decided that depression should trigger my shopping gene needs to get a cosmic gun in his/her mouth.
Wow. This is just the upliftingest entry ever! Awesome.
Permalink At the end of September, we had two doors and a window replaced. The doors are a thing of joy and easily-shut-and-locked beauty. The window has pretty much been a pain in the ass. First it was the wrong color. Then there was phone tag with the installation company, until finally we got a nice lady who did some checking and discovered that although the number was technically right, the manufacturer makes both residential and business windows, so we probably just had the right window from the wrong line, and they would order a new one and make sure it was right before putting it in this time. Then the roman shade my mother bought took two weeks longer to arrive than it should have, and was a size smaller than the invoice said it was. Then the scheduled re-replacement of the window got canceled on account of rain that stopped two hours later. Now if the gods will but smile upon us, they will finally be putting the right one in this morning.
But they can’t actually tell us when. Or even narrow it down more than “morning.”
I gotta tell ya, at this point? I’m kind of okay with the ugly, wrong-colored window. At least that one’s already in.
Permalink You know what’s better than a smokin’ hot, cosplaying, Star Wars nerd?
A smokin’ hot, cosplaying, Star Wars nerd who plays WoW.
Permalink I’m liking more of Selena Gomez’ album than I am entirely comfortable with. I’m not sure how much I would have been comfortable with, just…not this much. Its not even like its like “oh, wow, this is surprisingly good!” Nope. I actually had higher expectations, at least in the vocal department. But the crack factor is so very high that I find myself liking chunks of it, anyway. Balls.
Watched the latest Rambo with Mom last night, and sweet holy fuck Sylvester Stallone is massive. Also old, and mopey like a bulldog, but mostly he looks like he could arm-wrestle Atlas and win. And Schoolboy needs his own movie, stat, because marksmanship like that deserves serious sexing, and the only pussy in the damn thing was a bunch of raped kidnapping victims and Julie Benz as the “God will protect me from my own stupid because clearly he has nothing better to do and does not wish us to think things through beforehand” type of Christian. And she was married, so even if she went into a celebrating life sex rampage after all that atrocity, it still wouldn’t have been with Schoolboy, which is just wrong. HOT BRAVE BOYS WITH HOT ACCENTS AND SUPERHUMAN SNIPER SKILLS NEED SEXY REWARDS, WHAT KIND OF CRAP MOVIE DOESN’T KNOW THAT.
Also, Rambo could maybe have used a little loving after all that. He crawled through carnivorous pig shit for you, would a handjob really have been so much to ask?
….I’m really the only person I know who starts an entry talking about a Disney Channel starlet, and then somehow ends it talking about how a hot blonde should be jerking off the overly-buff elderly. There’s special, folks, and then there’s me.
Permalink Ok, guys, I can put up with some serious shit when I am in the mood for fanfic and you’re serving up my current jones. (Seriously, you don’t want to know just how much of one BSB fic I read back in day before a certain incessant, idiotic, completely erroneous description just got too much and I had to stop before I started killing people and carving “sapphires are not green” into their corpses.)
Currently, I am on an NCIS Gibbs/Abby kick, and I can handle the mediocre-at-best writing. I can suffer through formatting so bad that you just know the authors haven’t passed an English class since about the fifth grade. I can even hurry (cringingly) past the inconsistent characterization and grit my teeth through dramatic!fainting. But this?
Her red lips were limp
That’s a deal-breaker, folks. It…see…they…lips, people. And. I just can’t. You broke me, okay? You have crashed my brain into the side of your idiocy, and there is nothing left but lumpy, bloody, road-smears. I hope you’re happy. This is why we can’t have nice things.
Permalink Lalalalalala. I submitted a question to “Ask Sideshow!” With my luck, even if they do answer it, it’d be on their podcast, where I will never know, because dial up + podcasts = angry, angry enemies.
Which kind of begs the question, “why’d you even ask anything, then?” And I say, “Because I want a goddamn Liev Schreiber Sabretooth, and I need to know if there’s any hope, or if I’m doomed to wail WE WANTS IT, PRECIOUSSSSS forever.” Also, anything I can do to help combat my paralyzing conviction that I will be hated anytime I attempt to communicate with anyone is a good thing. Even if the only result is that in a few weeks/months I can look back and go, “look, nothing bad happened,” that helps.
I don’t mind being ignored or anonymous. I’m happier unnoticed, for the most part. Its the idea that someone who actually matters to me will hate me that turns me into a weeping vortex of doom. And I guess the reason it freezes me up with people who don’t matter sometimes is that in the back of my head, there’s this hellish little voice whispering, “But what if they were going to matter? What if you would’ve loved them and been loved if you had just kept your mouth shut right then, and you ruined it and will never even know them now?”
Yeah. Being in my head pretty much sucks cockroach anus.
Permalink So…was Push based on a book or a comic or something? Because my brain thinks it was, but it could just be a desire to have the universe fleshed out further.
Also, I totally want a Cassie doll.
Okay, the IMDB FAQ for it says it was not, in fact, based on anything but the screenplay. Well, pbbbbttt. I want an expanded universe, fuckers. And possibly Cassie/Nick futurefic. Actually, the “future” part is negotiable. Cassie’s mature enough and Nick’s immature enough to squeak past the age squick for me. I’m strange and probably perverse, what can I say.
…I still want a Cassie doll. And don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me that Tonner will probably do a Jane doll for Twilight (you know they will, they made all three villains from the first movie, and one of them got his head ripped off in the climax), and that Jane could be converted to Cassie with fairly little effort. Or that Cassie’s about the same age as Susan, so Sue would actually have someone both her own age and her own size to hang out with, and oh hey, Cassie could even talk visions with Cordy.
Now I just need a berjillion dollars and a time machine and we can totally make this work.
Permalink Ugh. Femininity is so clean and fresh and attractive. It doesn’t at all involve soaking your underwear in the sink or overloading one of those super-absorbent overnight pads in a couple hours, or aches that make it almost impossible to get comfortable, and above all, it never ever involves sitting on the toilet and looking down at something on the floor that looks like nothing so much as a thumb-sized chunk of black raspberry Jell-O, and realizing, oh, hey, that’s a piece of my uterus.
I WOULD LIKE TO BE A BOY NOW, IF THAT’S OKAY WITH EVERYONE.
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