why don’t you crush what’s left of my soul - 15/25
Phryne & Jack - Miss Fisher’s murder mysteries
#just looking at this stupid flippin’ gifset is making my stomach squirm with feelings#uuuugh#UUUUUGH#JUST KISS ALREADY YOU ASSHOLES#a real kiss not a distraction kiss#my sister literally screamed DAMMIT AUNT PRUDENCE#when she cockblocked them#and she did it TWICE!!!#PRUDEEEEENCE#*shakes angry fists at the sky*#she knew exactly what she was doing too#i love you but WHY#;A;#and the my girl Jane (wonderful Jane) tried to get them to kiss under the mistletoe#and we were like WELL YOU TRIED#at least we know she’s got our backs#miss fisher’s murder mysteries (via unfamiliargroundsquirrel)
Watching unfamiliargroundsquirrel fall like a sack of potatoes for this show is amongst my many joys in life.
Posted in full at: http://eemilyvr1.tumblr.com/post/100464
I went early-ish; Purple also went early-ish; we failed to locate each other until much later. I sat down next to Mr. Sub-tle and chatted a bit while sewing square white buttons on a black shawl. The major challenge is to sew them on in a way that has them retain their orientation. I learned many things about the shenanigans which go into arranging certain events.
At length lb appeared, and then the Other Guy. They had a rousing discussion of events. Eventually things got louder, and lb and I headed over to a quieter side bench, which had the disadvantage of extra reverb. Purple came out to join us after a while, and there was lengthy and hilarious discussion, some of which was more appropriate than others. I got an appreciable amount done on embellishing the shawl. The buttons were sent in a large bulk bag. The manufacturing process involved chips of plastic lodging themselves in the thread tunnels of the buttons, so I had to ream them out. Meanwhile, Purple and lb and Dean Pelton (and Purple points out that our version is *much more* butch than Community's) all thought they looked like chiclets. "Manlets!" Purple declared. Whereupon I said that I was reaming the manlet. Hilarity, etc.
Dinner or something was briefly under debate, but declined on the grounds that Saturday was going to be sort of epic. Purple and I wrapped up, then walked out together. We nearly lost balance when hugging, but recovered. I was reminded of the gif floating around tumblr of the people dancing off a balcony, then demonstrated Tay's tango-punch. Purple had thought of a slightly different way to do that, which delighted me. And then we headed off, intending to have quiet and early nights. I did better at that than he did, as he proved to be coding up a storm on some personal projects, late into the night...
lb invited one of his other work friends back to #adventuresofstnono. Whee!
The event: an open house at the NASA Ames Research Center, attended by like fucking half the goddamn sf bay area.
Despite the woeful elements of my day, I'm feeling really pretty damn good about the whole thing, which is great -- the same series of events could have resulted in a really kind of terrible day. Happily, they did not.
( long day is long )
vid: Bad Kids
fandom: The Losers
song: Bad Kids by Lady Gaga
file format: mp4, 28.1MB
warnings: muzzle flash, explosions, blood etc ala canon, shadowpuppet noncon
Five against the fortress. Team vid. Go Petunias.
Nine Days of Brooklyn Nine-Nine
Day Three: Favorite Male CharacterRay Holt
The NYPD was not ready for an openly gay detective. But then the old guard died out. Suddenly they couldn’t wait to show off the fact that they had a highly-ranking gay officer. I made Captain. But they put me in Public Affairs unit. I was a good soldier, I helped recruitment, but all I ever really wanted was my own command. And now I’ve finally got it, and I’m not gonna screw it up.
Posted in full at: http://eemilyvr1.tumblr.com/post/100370
Most, because you were just away for maybe thirty goddamn minutes and now nothing is the way you left it, and maybe how it had been contained the seeds of whatever catastrophic upheaval occurred while you were out, but it had seemed basically okay when you wandered off. And the process involved in getting from there to here could only have involved some forms of catastrophic upheaval.
Least, because everything is different but it is not on fire -- there may be a little smoke damage in odd corners but everything has been repainted, moved, and redecorated. This clearly took some time and effort. It doesn't seem to be in the middle of any crisis. (Now.) How did all that happen? You were only gone for thirty goddamn minutes!
I tried to get to sleep. I did not get there as soon as planned.
I woke up groggy. It took an hour to get out the door.
I had to get gas before work. The line was long. (Costco.)
I needed the thing for the potluck. That line: also long. (Costco again.)
By the time I actually arrived at work, the table in the appointed place was empty as I drove past in search of a parking place, and I saw the straggling end of the parade of teammates heading back.
On the way in the door, I dropped my veggie tray on the team table, because at least I had that, and people could snag things from it all afternoon if they wanted. I checked the timestamps of the lunch ping on the computer, and realized that Purple wouldn't have been there that long. So I reset the status on my cube to "Undefined" (because "Lunch" was more than I could handle declaring just then) and walked in to the cafeteria, located the table, saw with some relief that Purple was at the end of a bench with an adjacent seat free, and sat down next to him.
"Hey, I thought we wouldn't see you today!"
I kept my voice as dead-level as I knew how. "That's what I thought too."
"Slept through the team potluck?"
"Well, good thing you're in a place where they've still got some food!"
"Yeah, I'll get some in a bit."
I sat there very quietly as Purple and Lennon Glasses Guy talked about the basic steps of troubleshooting some obscure thing involving network problems until I no longer felt like any sudden shock would be the final straw causing me to utterly lose control of the oncoming tearstorm. Then I got a burrito ("How are you today young lady?" "How about a burrito.") with, by some miracle, no bell pepper in the rice, and came back and ate my burrito and listened with interest and appreciation to Purple holding forth on what to do in the face of customers claiming impossible things about their networks (things which the logs don't bear out).
I am so deeply, incredibly tired of being, well, so deeply, incredibly tired. I know a few of the factors why I've been having worse sleep lately, but the plain fact of it is, I am not office-hours diurnal ( and that chafes. )
Purple waited until the rest of the table cleared out before saying a few quiet things to me, with a reassuring shoulder-bump. By that time, my voice had stopped threatening to wobble, but my eyes were re-lubricating faster than they could drain. When they spilled over, I shut them for a few seconds. The green wall at the end of the cafeteria -- the green stretched up above the partial drop ceiling, I noticed. Purple patted me on the back and said something funny as a distraction. (His style is somewhat like Darkside's, but distinct.)
We went our separate ways. My manager had one cupcake left. She dropped it on my desk, with some coconut bacon sprinkles on the side.
COCONUT BACON, PEOPLE.
This is basically the uncanny valley of bacon. It is coconut shreds which have been toasted, smoked, and spiced like bacon. It is not quite as unearthly salty, which is an uncanny valley point. It has that crispy/greasy crunch like bacon. It also has cell walls, which don't break apart in the same way that the muscle/fat matrix of pork bacon does, but it's so close.
The pocket projector arrived! It was about the same footprint as my phone, and only about half again as thick. My manager was impressed. The Polka-Dot Researcher was impressed.
My Overlady gave the vague impression that perhaps I had not missed all that much at the potluck, and since I'd got a cupcake, I'd be just fine. Also she had swag which could be used for the good of the team. So an eBay-branded multicharger was fitted with a label which conveniently covered up the eBay branding, and left where team members can snag it if they're having a bad battery day.
I noticed that Designer Sparkles was grabbing veggies every time she walked past the team table. Perhaps I can start bringing in less industrial-sized bits of vegetables to leave on the team table -- I'll probably eat them more reliably than if they just sit in my fridge, and this way they'll get finished before they go off. I mentioned the phenomenon to Purple (that the veggie tray was getting the same amount of attention that cookies do) and he was about to say something about pod people when he thought about it and realized that yeah, he might do the same thing -- and more so in the case of chocolate chip, as proper caramelization is key.
Purple was ready to go just a little later than I was. We put the remains of the veggie tray in the refrigerator. He grabbed the bowl of former ice. I carried the tray -- on my head as per usual, a little off-center due to the floppiness. "I'm going to laugh at you if that spills all over," Purple warned. There were no incidents.
Yesterday's lunch discussion of delicious desserts recalled itself to me -- I'd brought one of the chocolates to Purple, who responded by giving me a dessert recommendation; my response included my delight that Purple was not likely to recommend me stuff which involved walnuts (as we have the same mouth-blistering adverse reaction). His exception was baklava -- he will, every rare now and then, endure the pain for the sake of deliciousness. (With vanilla ice cream, which softens the effects.) I don't make exceptions for that, but I will put up with it for the sake of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk, which has trace enough amounts to be very minor.
It is fall, and Purple is starting to feel chilly in the parking lot in just a t-shirt (and jeans, but the proposed modification is a button-down worn as a jacket).
Weekend plans: there is an open house at Moffet Field. My crew will be there late-ish. Purple mentioned that he'd been reading the fine print, and he was amused by some bits which were being alluded to without being specifically spelled out: it is a federal facility, so federal laws apply, the thing said. Subtext: THIS MEANS YOU, YOU WEED-SMOKING CALIFORNIANS. And from thence the discussion about a semi-recent news piece about how the computer security bits of the federal government have a hard time tracking down computer security experts who are willing to work For The Man who also haven't been potheads in the near-recent past... not to say present. Heh.
It'd already been a long, hard summer - and not such an easy fall, either, so far - full of waiting and wondering and sometimes thinking that it would all have been easier if he hadn't wanted to fight. It didn't seem quite real when I looked at him, lying there in his bed, waxen and cold, but he's gone and even though my mum's still alive, I'm effectively an orphan, since I'm more parent than child to her at this point. Which isn't exactly what I was expecting to get out of being 35. Not that it's all been terrible - solarcat continues to be awesome and I might actually have the beginnings of a career in production - but someday I'd like for money to not be tight and my dad's never going to get to be a grandparent. And while he didn't always see me clearly, he loved me and gave me so much - and I'm going to miss him. And now I have to write his obituary and help plan his memorial service and somehow keep my life going.
So, yeah, hard, doing this without much of a safety net. Guess I might be an adult now or something. Too bad people are going to want me to talk about my feelings. 8/
My manager and Rocky were at my cube at the same time. My manager was claiming some of the abominable pumpkin spice candy corn. Rocky said he might try one -- well, two. Because you can't just have one. He held them up to his mouth to demonstrate the vampire fangs.
I mentioned that there is, among my vacation photos from last year, a whole bunch of members of my family being carrot-walruses, with some of Mama's garden carrots. And furthermore, parts of the internet claim that walruses are vampire mermaids.
I feel that this goes best with the sea lion mermaid illustration. I should hunt these things down and put them together at some point.
I have upended the accumulation of various fabric items near the cable box. So that's where my gloves got off to! Have sent other fabric items back to the wash due to dust and such. Have hung up others. I am due another round of nightengown construction.
Once upon a time, my family had a rooster named Gong Ji and a hen named Ida Red. They were the lead birds of the flock, so it was natural that we would occasionally see Gonkers hopping on top of Ida Red. It so happened that there was an opportunity to hatch some chicks, so we stuffed some possibly-fertile eggs in the incubator. (This may or may not have been in a classroom; this wasn't the clutch that we got Clam-clam from.) And one of the chicks out of this clutch was a lovely little black chick with red trim here and there, clearly the son of Gong Ji and Ida Red. His name was Nightingale. (After the "Daisy" incident, where my sister's dear fluffy wee allegedly girl chick grew up to be a very large, gentle, gallant rooster with an incredible tail, we went for bird and flower names with no particular gendered association while the chick was too small to start presenting adult traits.) We were not the best spellers at that time. As many of our chickens did, Nightingale took on some nicknames. For reasons which made sense at the time (he was black and orange and ran fast!) he was dubbed "Steaming Football". (I can explain that one, actually. One of the boys in my grade, either Kerry or Nick, had a black and orange nerf football with twirl grooves in it. There was a certain resemblance when the young rooster ran.) Another, just for the sake of silliness and because he was so very soft and fluffy, was Nightengown. And ever after that, the garment is occasionally called the nightengown...
00:05 Thursday, 16 October, 2014
Woke up earlier than planned. Got coffee. This lipstick is really working out, due to the number of compliments I get.
Brought chocolate with me to lunch for Purple.
First thing in the morning after he got in (I got in first today) Purple pinged me to apologize for not having realized earlier, but yesterday after he'd picked up his pass for the concert portion of the Halloween shenanigans, he'd read the fine print and realized that contractors would have to come as one of the +2 of an employee, and he hadn't thought to pick up a guest pass for me while he was picking up his. And had I already made an arrangement with someone on my team, or should he try to get one for me? After having learned what the situation was with passes and such, I'd been wavering on whether I actually wanted to go or not; I'd decided that I wasn't going to get my feathers in a muss over it. But, you know, under the circumstances...
So I asked him if he could give it a go. After lunch we walked together to the divergence point between my building and the security building, then he came back via my desk, with a neatly packaged little yellow rubber bracelet, hair fluffed wide in triumph. *fistbump* Somewhat later, I learned that Mr. Zune had a spare, which I claimed in honor of ryan. Yay Teshipants! Yay, introducing Teshipants to further members of #cupcake! (Teshipants already knows jld, one of the original members.)
There were little helpdesk-related things, and rather a lot of transcription. Eventually I fetched dinner. However, at the point when dinner might have been nice, Purple and a colleague were busy stopping terrible woe with some internal tools. By the time that was all over, Purple was not so much prepared to sit down for polite dinner with a co-worker, and more ready to grab some takeout and become one with his couch. (Which I was entirely prepared for; my approach at 6pm was a fairly assumptive "Hey, got food, ping me when you're hungry"; once the repairs had stretched until 8:30, it was more like "how much work you got left? and if you're up for dinner the bag's still in the fridge.") Nonetheless, we did remain chatting in the parking lot for some time...
While Nora's re-adjusting to the physical demands of a job with a substantial commute again, our schedules are a bit mismatched. I called her for a few minutes on my way back from fetching dinner. We discussed, among other things, what a fucking crime it is that a university is apparently legally unable to exclude weapons from an audience of an event which has received terrorist threats (from someone going by the name of the shooter from the École Polytechnique massacre; this particular terrorist is making his feelings about women very, very clear).
Non-Boring Manager examined my candy dish and found the pumpkin spice candy corn. "These look like a witch's toenails!" he said.
"My toenails don't look like that," I pointed out.
"I didn't say a Wiccan's toenails!"
"I'm not a Wiccan. They're too peaceful. ^_^"
Discussions with Purple sometimes head south pretty fast. This time, a simple discussion of "Please don't bang on my couch/floor" circumstances resulted in the idea of a Clippy popping up to tell your friends(?) to please not do that thing. This resulted in the mental image of Clippy popping up in places where no animate paperclip ought to be, which resulted in turn with a conversation about how exactly to phrase the parallel of "Touched by his Noodly Appendage" when it comes to animate paperclips appearing on/beside/under you when you're banging on your friend's floor.
Beardwatch: the beard has started to watch back.
Tomorrow is the team potluck. I have a checklist.
( checklist )
Poor Madam Standards is not having a great week. Her mom is in the hospital. I shared chocolate. (She has taken to coming to my cube with her hands cupped and looking pitiful when she needs chocolate. This is particularly hilarious because she has also attempted to fishmum at me after learning that I am about the age of one of her daughters. #fishmummingtheunfishmummable) And then I discovered that this particular bag of chocolate is a bit the worse for wear, heat-wise. I have thus attempted to make a virtue of the error, and am discovering the worse melted ones by touch, and setting them aside for hot chocolate. I have access to an espresso machine, two sugars, honey, a selection of milks, and whipped cream. This will be delightful. Trial (and error) numbers one and two happened today.
#1: in espresso. Tasty, needs better stirring before the addition of chilling ingredients.
#2: with steamed water straight from the machine. Filled too full, otherwise great. (Filled too full means it's too hot and spilly to move. Errors were compounded. My mouth is slightly uncomfortable, but not actually what I would call 'burned'.)
Still not particularly thrilled with the *) emoticon, which I have begun calling "the asshole smirk" in honor of Breakfast of Champions.
Also made a spreadsheet to possibly calculate the amount of time needed to bang through the transcription, with some variables. I am happy with this, even though it did take away from some possible transcription time. It did help me make the decision about when to bail tonight. I was considering staying longer, but it was too long to just whiz through and I felt I should decide otherwise.
Lunch involved an introduction to a new guy in Purple's department, and a lot of really delightful talk about the weather. It is a nearly universal subject; I am from Alaska, Purple is from Ohio, and the new guy is from the Ukraine.
It was an early night for Purple. He zoomed out after issuing e-hugs.
My manager showed up in my cube bearing hand-me-down chocolates -- they had started out from the Pumped Designer (do I have a proper nickname for him?) and my manager had made a valiant go of them but they were "too intense" for her, so I was the beneficiary. I tried one, and observed it to be on the line of intense/rich such that they are definitely not something where you can have a lot in one sitting. I shall share as I see fit.
I will try to get my laundry sorted and my step count up, and hope to get in bed earlier than previous.
POODLE problems: old browsers which rely on a hella old version of SSL won't be able to use that on Dreamwidth anymore, because of a vulnerability in that version.
Got some work on the costume last night. I have draped the black fabric over the hat, and attached the top half of the beak provisionally, although the edges still need detail work (I was too tired at the time to feel like risking it).
This weekend is the Moffet Field tour. Yay! Must work out logistics.
Today another SSL vulnerability was announced. This one is named POODLE and is, while serious, much less serious than the Heartbleed event from some months ago.
Unfortunately, the only real way to fix the problem is to disable something called "SSLv3" entirely. Basically, this means that we instruct our servers that they are no longer allowed to speak version 3 of the SSL protocol (you can think of it as a language -- we ban this language from our servers). It turns out this is generally OK since most browsers don't actually speak using SSLv3 these days -- you actually use what's called TLS, which is a more modern, better way of protecting the stuff you send across the Internet.
The SSLv3 protocol is actually around 15 years old at this point, and TLS has been out so long that nearly every browser out there supports it. However, shutting off SSLv3 does mean that very old browsers -- IE6, for one -- can no longer talk to Dreamwidth using encryption. In this case, since the encryption wouldn't actually mean anything, we think it's better to not even pretend that it works.
I will be making this change sometime in the next hour or three. This really should impact almost none of you, but there might be one or two and, in that case, I'm sorry. We think it's better to do this so you know you're not actually secure than to let Dreamwidth pretend to be secure.
Edit: This has been deployed. SSLv3 is disabled on Dreamwidth.
Comments and questions welcome, as always!
This is deliberate badfic. I do not expect any of you to read it. However, lb and StPatience (who are From The Internet and non-fannish) did in fact read it and then spend a chunk of time quoting their favorite bits back to me... and it is good that they enjoyed it, because they helped with the brainstorming process.
do they have within, The sons of the glorious gods?" - the fic (1693 words) by azurelunatic
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Breakfast Pastry (anthropomorphic)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Thor/Breakfast Pastry, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles/Pizza, April O'Neil/Darcy Lewis
Characters: April O'Neil, Darcy Lewis, Thor (Marvel)
Additional Tags: no cylons, even though there are plenty of toasters, idk maybe one of the toasters is really a cylon, maybe one of the toaster pastries was a cylon, maybe you're a cylon, pop tarts, toaster pastries, I tried to get my friend to beta this, but all I got was a lecture about how I was using the wrong cooking product as lube, Not Beta Read, lube/not-lube, Not Lube, Recreational Drug Use, toasterfuck jizzworld
In the first Bad Bang, we saw Thor fucking a Pop Tart, while getting reamed by a Ninja Turtle. It was the most erotic thing I ever saw.
But I wanted to give it a sequel. So here is a Pop-Tart, fucking Thor to find out what is with in.
Contains boy kissing, pastires. Don't like don't read.
Bonus chatlog of the creative process below.
( From #adventuresofstnono )
Today (Friday) was actually kind of good!
( A lot of other days. )
So what with all that going on, I went home not that long after the team meeting, and promptly fell the fuck asleep for a good chunk of evening.
22:42 Monday, 13 October, 2014
Friday: productive with a solid chunk of transcription, and then there was the non-beer-bash gathering of all currently in-state members of #cupcake (R was out of state for a conference), at which all sorts of fun was had. ( jellybeans and vodka, among other funs. )
On Saturday, I headed up into the city for some fabric shopping and millinery. I only burned my finger once on the hot glue!
Sunday was sleep, laundry, and lack of sleep.
Today, I dragged in to work late for lunch, and joined Purple's table as they were winding up. Purple went on in rhapsodic detail about the various synthesizer-related programming he's been working on. I sat and absorbed the delight. He headed back, and I was about to head back as well when phone came through with his lunch, so we chatted a bit.
Aside from the brief 1:1 with my manager, and the exploration of the swag brought back by my Overlady, the day was largely transcription. Purple thought he was going to bail an hour before he actually did, but the new guy needed some orientation, apparently.
If scary bunny masks become the new V-for-Vendetta mask in certain parts of the Valley of the Cloud, don't look at me.
( Culinary reference to arachnids. )
headcanon that a big contributor to mako’s sense of justice and anger (and the reason she was so quick to turn around and shut raleigh down) is watching stacker have to put up with racism, both when it comes to antiblackness basically anywhere they’ve ever gone and the way he handled it on mako’s behalf when she was too young to realize what was goin on
and now that she’s older LIKE HELL she’s gonna let some white boy disrespecting her sensei slide
#herc is ok in her books because he looks at stacker like he’s the literal sun#the russians have always treated him w/ respect #the weis would go to bat for stacker anytime anywhere #the headaches they give him notwithstanding #what i’m saying is that mako’s shatterdome family has been VERY CAREFULLY SELECTED FOR #also i have a lot of feelings about mako and stacker #having basically the healthiest relationship in this entire film (tags from flybaldies)
Posted in full at: http://eemilyvr1.tumblr.com/post/996918
Lunch with Purple, filing tickets for software, loon-measuring and the assorted lunacies and wordplay*, data entry in the name of 2nd Thursday, and then a brief breather in the form of the Search for Cardboard Sheldon. I was tiptoeing over to one of the other buildings to post the poster in the mail room when I ran into the Dean. I showed the poster to him. He was absolutely delighted, and took a selfie with us and the poster and sent it to [off-topic]. And then back to work!
Eventually Purple and I were both hungry, so he wrapped up what he was working on, and I busted out dinner. Shawn, calculator shenanigans, high school sex-ed. And by that time it was late enough that I made the executive decision to come home. Now I shall wind down briefly and crash.
* sithjawa is reading up in preparation for NaNo. One of the readings included a top 10 list of birds likely to kill you. ( Loon unit. )
Ann's friend Bill had been renting a basement apartment, and was moving elsewhere. She agreed to take his apartment; they then cleared this idea with Cathy, the landlord, who lives in the upstairs part of the house. Cathy says "Fine." Bill moves out, Ann calls Cathy to check that the apartment is ready. Cathy says yes, Ann goes to move in and finds out the apartment is far from ready. Discussion between Ann and Cathy ensues, at the end of which Ann's belief is that Cathy has agreed 1.) to provide her with a written lease, and 2.) to reimburse her for bringing the apartment up to standards.
Ann goes out and buys new carpeting and engages several repair services. She installs the carpet herself and pays for the other repairs. During this time, Ann's friend David asks her to take care of his dog for him for a while. Ann checks with Cathy, Cathy says OK. Cathy's friend Ernie will be along presently, so I'll name him now so we can stay in alphabetical order and call Dave's dog Fido.
For reasons Ann is not clear on, Cathy invites Ernie over and takes him into Ann's apartment. Ann has been neither consulted nor informed, and neither has Fido. (Note at this point that Cathy *does* know about Fido.) Behaving with canine appropriateness, Fido bites Ernie. Having neither competence at animal martial arts or common sense, Cathy attacks Fido. Fido takes about a half-pound of hamburger out of Cathy also. Cathy and Ernie retreat, and hie themselves to a nearby hospital, from which Cathy calls Ann, tells her to get out of the apartment within 30 days, and then calls the utility companies and has the utilies for the apartment, which according to Ann had been covered by the rental agreement, cut off. And then calls Animal Control to come euthanize Fido.
Ann is at this point eager to leave and wants nothing further to do with Cathy, Cathy's house, or Cathy's basement. But she'd like to spend the rest of the month with a kitchen to cook in and lights to see by, and she'd like her money back for the carpet, the repairs, and the security deposit, and she'd like Fido to live. Dave would like that too.
As near as I can tell, everybody but Bill and possibly Dave stand accused of Impersonating An Adult. Cathy has no business even *owning* property, much less renting it out, and Ann isn't competent to be a tenant. Despite which she *does* deserve to get her money back from Cathy. Fido is at least not pretending to be an adult human, and is behaving reasonably for a canine.
I've done what I can, in telling Ann how to create a written record of the dispute and bring it to small claims court. Now that I've told y'all about it, maybe I can purge it from my own active memory and go do something else useful.
"Ai, the stupid. It burns!"
Edited to add: More Stupid
Took the bus home from housemate Liam's church volunteer pizza dinner. Bus driver threw a hissy-fit because a woman with a baby wouldn't fold her stroller. It was a *non-folding stroller*, but it's His Bus And His Rules And They Will Be Followed, goddamit. I entered a complaint on the bus service's website, but there is no way to follow up on a complaint and discover if any action has been taken. I'm willing to bet the complaints never even get read. The advantage to an e-based system: They don't even have to throw it out.
That much-reviled phrase, "I can see Russia from my house!" came up over lunch. Well, it almost did. Purple opened his mouth, it got halfway out, then it met my steady glance and the words turned around and marched right back in. I sent him a link to http://azurelunatic.dreamwidth.org/2
At around about the time I was thinking it was just about a day, Purple pinged me to say that he was back from the group dinner-thing his team had done, and there were leftovers if I was so inclined. I reckoned I might be so inclined, and wandered over -- to see that other vultures had been there ahead of me. I proceeded to demonstrate my skills at adulting by eating the bowl of frosting and cake scraps which was the only viable leftover. (Purple: "Are you sure that was it?" ... "You were right. Sorry about that...")
Around seven, I had taken the shortcut outside on the sidewalk heading to the kitchen to refill my water bottle (it's a shortcut because it doesn't involve the possibility of the awkward fat-human/narrow-hallway two-body problem) and got an eyeful of the full moon all rosy in the pink sky. By the time Purple had finished his bug triage stuff and I had finished my frosting, it was full black with a white moon. I looked up the time of the eclipse. I hope to be sound asleep by then. It's 2nd Thursday this week.
Sometime after getting home, I realized that I actually am not crushingly touch-starved like I was at about this time last year. When I was a bitty wee Lunatic, one or the other of my parents would tuck us in at night -- lie down next to us for a bit while we settled in. As we grew up, that stopped -- but every night, I would imagine myself curling up next to whoever it was that was my crush at the moment, and just lying there quietly and happily, sometimes talking to each other like sleepy chickens, and sometimes saying nothing at all. (Note: the peacefulness of sleepy chickens is not actually a reliable thing. You may just be sitting there contented with your feathers fluffed up, and then someone pecks you, or perhaps your sister steps on you while crawling over you for a better position in relation to the heat lamp.) This tradition kept on for a good many years. Lately, though, not so much. Sometimes I still imagine it, but largely I am concerned with my card game, or my plan for the next morning. Part of it is general changes in my brain and life outlook, but a not insignificant part is getting goodnight hugs* on a more-often-than-weekly basis.
* From someone who does not set off my "PEOPLE!!!" alarm. While most of the people I know are not the guy whose Free Hugs sweatshirt was last washed three long months ago (using barbecue sauce and essence of skunk as detergent) neither are they necessarily the person whose hugs would be welcome even when my brainspace is prickling and growling. Which is of course when I most need hugs. Ah, Catch-22.
Nora informs me that Dwellers in the Crucible has made it into Yuletide, and from the sound I made when she said that, apparently this is one of my extra special fandoms.
LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS BOOK, OKAY. So the thing about Star Trek books is, they are officially Not Canon, and at least originally, there was no particular attempt to enforce continuity between the books. Authors got to do basically whatever the hell they wanted to. And Margaret Wander Bonanno had some ideas.
Federation ambassadors have good-behaviour hostages kept in a secluded location on Vulcan, complete with implanted bombs or something equally unsociable. They're treated well, but don't have liberty, and do have the aforementioned bombs. The Earth ambassador's hostage is her daughter, who is a bit of a party girl. The Vulcan ambassador's son's career was of too much significance to allow him to be cooped up like that, so since Sarek is in fact a Vulcan and will behave himself anyway/take the life of another Vulcan seriously, his hostage is a studious young Vulcan volunteer. Ladies who are basically opposites. Ladies being friends. Peril! Lesbian subtext! Vulcan virginity. ( Sexual assault kinds of peril. ) I remember it as being gloriously tropey and oh so good. (I was also sixteen, and affected a "ruby" stud earring in the appropriate ear, and refused to take it out even when it would have been wise to do so. I bear the legacy of this fuckheaded decision in today's metal allergies.) My dearest hope for Yuletide this year is now that someone can distill the crystalline essence of tropey goodness free of the Suck Fairy dander that has doubtless landed on it during the intervening nearly-two-decades since I last read it.
This book holds a second dear place in my heart. I can see, right now, one of the ill-sorted cubes of my main bookshelf. Right between The Warrior's Apprentice and Hellspark is Preternatural, the one with the jelepathic tellyfish (Azure-blue, where are you?) and the thinly-disguised Star Trek clone, with the thinly-disguised author-self-insert, author of the tie-in novel Abide in Fire. Which, when quoted by some fan asking questions at a panel, has the same text on the same page number as good ol' Dwellers. MY FANGIRL HEART EXPLODES. (I would package Preternatural up with Deep Secret and either Bimbos of the Death Sun or Fallen Angels to form a Convention Shenanigans box set.)
So in conclusion, I would also be super happy with either a Dwellers in the Crucible fic, or an Abide in Fire fic, particularly one that included Karen Rohmer Guerreri.
XKCD shows some poll numbers about approval of interracial marriage and same-sex marriage. I got engaged to another girl in 1995/1996. It was not the most friendly time for that.