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Permalink One of these times I need to actually go with my mother to my brother’s, if only so that someone will say to him, “No, you are not clogging up our fridge with your crappy leftovers that no one ever eats. Throw it out yourself. Or better yet, learn to cook less.”
Its just stupid. She only takes it because its easier than telling them “no” eighty times, and she’s too polite to tell them no in a way that they will actually listen to. But I can’t stand his cooking (part of why I never go to his house, on any occasion), just thinking about the one time I had it makes my stomach do a sick little lurch. And she might be able to swallow it when its fresh, but she never eats the leftovers. She never so much as pulls out the container and considers it while deciding what to have for dinner.
So instead it just takes up room, and slowly rots, and then finally she realizes its still there and throws it out and then has to clean his container and get it back to him. Its bullshit. Stop cooking for six or more when there are only three of you! All recipes say how much they serve, just cut it in half! I can’t even cook and I know this! Stop being willfully stupid, it makes me want to hurt you.
Also, spaghetti? Why the hell were you serving spaghetti with turducken and assorted Thanksgiving trimmings? Spaghetti is not a side-dish. There should not be a clump of it congealing in my fridge with the other crap you bullied Mom into taking home. We are not Italian. Deal with it.
Permalink I really hate Gwyneth Paltrow. Not as an actress; there’s really only one role I actually like her in, but generally I don’t give a crap one way or the other. Its when she’s allowed to be her arrogant, pretentious self that I want to shove dog feces into her maw until sounds stop coming out. From the Nov 26 EW:
 Please to be shutting the ever-living fuck up, now. Seriously? Faking it isn’t your style? YOU’RE AN ACTRESS. YOU FAKE IT FOR A LIVING. Also, I notice you didn’t, y’know, become an alcoholic to play the part of an alcoholic country singer. So, really, the only time faking it isn’t your style, is when you actually like the thing they would otherwise be asking you to fake. I’m not even sure at this point if you’re just being your normal pretentious bitch self, or you’re also a moron on top of it. But either way, please, just…shut the fuck up.
Permalink I had a dream about Logan Echolls last night. All I can think is that my subconscious really, really wants me to re-watch Veronica Mars. I think I can probably manage that.
I’ve been battling a cold this week. Sore-throat, fatigue…the insides of my skull replaced with a mucus factory. Nothing too crazy, really, I just haven’t had anything worse than allergies in so long that my body doesn’t seem to know what to do. Aside from waking me up every three-to-four hours during the night to pee. Its like I’ve suddenly become my mother. At least my throat seems to have stopped doing its impression of a belt sander left out in the sun.
Hopefully I’ll feel better by Tuesday. Tuesday Morning is having one of their restock re-openings, and there are things I am interested in. I’m pretty determined not to miss it for anything short of coughing up an internal organ, but my system, much like the gods, has a dark and twisted sense of humor, and there’s really no telling what it’ll do. Fingers crossed, burn an offering if you’ve got one.
Permalink This is possibly the best explanation of Joss Whedon I have ever seen.
….okay, yeah, it might also be the only, I don’t exactly go looking for that kind of thing. I mean, I like Joss’ stuff and all, and yes, if he does another show at some point, I will probably be psychotic enough to watch it if the premise is remotely interesting, but Whedonites kind of scare me. Mostly because they are willing to call themselves Whedonites.
Semi-relatedly — season 2 of Dollhouse isn’t being released until October? Really? Fnarr.
Permalink Okay, I know I’ve commented on the sheer reality-bending, mind-melting wonder of Christina Hendrick’s breasts in the past, but, um. Baby done hit a whole new level.
 Fuck Victoria's Secret, I want to know Christina's. What the hell does she wear under her gowns? Because I’m a busty girl with a pretty good bra, but I don’t know how you manage to alter gravity like that without some steel girders and a couple of doodads stolen from the Enterprise, all of which you would be able to see with a gown that fitted and delicate. Maybe she owns stock in a high-tech corset company from the future.
Whatever it is, may I just say, “Thank you.” And also, “I want one.”
Permalink Its funny, I hadn’t even realized that the St John’s Wort was also helping my anxiety (I guess its depression-related?). And then I lost track of how many pills were left in the bottle, and so didn’t realize I needed to order more until there were only two left, and I completely ran out sometimes last week and the fucking company only YESTERDAY processed my fucking order and guess who’s been on the mopey weepy train the last four days?
I had actually forgotten about the stupid, anxious stomach knots that I had been starting to have nearly every. fucking. day. Right up until this morning. When they moved back in.
And now my stomach’s a big achy ball of sick and my throat’s so closed up from the idea of tears that it fucking hurts and I was living like this. Constantly. And I know its only been like, a couple months away from it, but I honestly can’t remember how to do this anymore. I always kind of thought of myself as a pathetic loser, but I’m starting to think I was a superwoman for ever getting out of fucking bed.
Permalink Hmm. I have some mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I liked Jumper, and exploring it a little more deeply, going a little dark, could be cool.
On the other hand, I have Hayden Christensen issues, and frankly, if we’re going to be doing sequels to people-with-powers movies that didn’t perform as well as hoped, I’d really rather we went with Push.
Yeah, I know, I’m not holding my breath for that.
The real deciding factor for me on “Jumper 2” might be the presence, or lack thereof, of Sam Jackson. I can’t for the life of me remember if his character died or not, but Samuel L. Fucking Jackson could make the difference between “uncertain” and “yeah, I’ll watch it” for me.
Permalink I can’t figure out the deal with Li’s appetite in Darker than Black. Until other characters started being all “oooo you don’t have a payment, oooo, weeeeiiiird,” I thought that consuming mass quantities WAS his payment. I mean, the amount of food he eats is so huge and unnatural that everyone comments on it, people just in the same location who have never even seen him before notice and comment on it. But its not his payment? Weh? That is either the weirdest translation gaffe ever, or the show’s creators are morons who thought it would be awesome to create a character trait that doubled as a plot hole. That they could then slam our heads into every fricking episode.
Other than that, I’m kind of enjoying it. I think. Needs less possessed talking cat, and more Li/Water Doll boning. Or, y’know. Any. Definitely less possessed talking cat, though.
I am seriously considering taking a nap. I nearly always regret naps, because I tend to wake up feeling physically ill, but I just feel so run down that I think I might do it, anyway.
Permalink Its funny how a friend’s good news can make you really happy for them…and also make you want to cry.
Doesn’t make you feel like a crazy douchebag at all.
Permalink Apparently, in Strangetown, Thelma and Louise drive the carpool.
 Don't worry, guys, I know a shortcut! I am far too amused by the Sims, sometimes. The fact that I need to sleep may have something to do with it, as well. Maybe. Possibly. I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’.
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