03.31.03.
So,
truecrystal posted a an alphabetical TV Meme that I thought I'd steal. Since some of our answers are the same, she might worry that due to our impending nuptials I'm too eager to please and nervous about the deep abiding lust we share. Not to worry -- as soon as true said yes to my proposal I let myself go completely to pot -- eating pork rinds, refusing to tweeze my eyebrows, etc.
Television Shows I Love, From A to Z
A - Anne of Green Gables (and its sequel, Anne of Avonlea): I had a childhood love affair with these books, so when they were released as a mini-series I was already hooked. The director, Kevin Sullivan, very skillfully evoked a sense of time and place. Megan Follows was wonderful in the titular role, and then of course there was Colleen Dewhurst. What more could you want?
B - Beverly Hills, 90210: My shameful secret. I faithfully followed the trite, forced crises that beset the West Beverly High crowd. To be honest, my own high school experience was about as far from '90210' as you could get. So at the time, I truly considered the show to be a glimpse into the lives of 'real' teenagers. I know, I know. But I wore a red plaid uniform every day, and had a graduating class of twenty-one, and damn it, I wanted to make eyes at Dylan McKay over a milkshake at the Peach Pit.
C - C.H.I.P.S.: John. Ponch. Uniforms. Motorcycles. My prepubescent fantasies were fueled by mirrored sunglasses, Erik Estrada's aggressively capped teeth, and men in knee-high black leather boots. With this in mind, it's a wonder I'm not even more screwed up than I already am.
D - A Different World: If I thought 'Beverly Hills, 90210' was high school, then this was college. I still have a bit of a crush on Kadeem Hardison.
E - E! True Hollywood Story: I love seeing pretty rich people f*ck up. I'm evil like that.
F - The Facts of Life: Shut up. You know you watched it too. You take the good/You take the bad/You take them both/And there you have.... Heh. Bet you've got the theme song stuck in your head now.
G - Greatest American Hero: 'General Hospital' came a close second (I was totally addicted when Frisco came back from the dead with that little urchin Mouse in tow, right as Felicia was about to marry what-was-his-name), but I haven't really watched in years. I mean, I haven't watched 'Greatest American Hero' in years, either, but I loved it when it was on. Wasn't Connie Selleca pretty? And Robert Culp, that old curmudgeon.
H - Hill Street Blues: Watching this program, one is immersed in the events on 'the Hill'. The characters are flawed, but in meaningful ways and not just for cheap laughs (David E. Kelley, I'm looking at you). The show's creators brought a gritty realism to television, always accompanied by unquenchable hope. And Daniel J. Travanti? Hot.
I - The Incredible Hulk: The mournful theme music alone broke my tiny piglet heart. Poor David Banner!
J - Joe Millionaire: Yeah. Um...not much to say here. Shoddy production values, a protagonist with the intellectual power of a yam. I didn't miss an episode.
K - Knight Rider: Um, see above.
L - Law & Order: Christopher Noth as a hot, tough New York City detective, followed by Benjamin Bratt as a hot, tough New York City detective. Plus the vibes between Logan and Dr. Olivet? Scorching.
M - Miami Vice: Dude, it was a great show. Okay? It just was.
N - North and South: An overwrought, cheesy mini-series featuring Patrick Swayze, Kirstie Alley, Robert Carradine, Genie Francis and Parker Stevenson. Do I need to say more? Oh, yeah. Hal Holbrook.
O - Once A Thief: John Woo television outing with the guy who played Krycek from 'The X-Files'. I think there were other cast members but I didn't notice them.
P - Palace Guard: I think this show ran for a total of seven episodes. D.W. Moffett, he of the perpetual smirk, and Marcy Walker, who played Eden on the defunct soap 'Santa Barbara'. He was a cat burglar hired to do security for this hotel, and she was his disapproving liaison. I dunno. It worked for me.
Q - Got me. I didn't watch 'Quantum Leap'.
R - It's a tie!
Remington Steele: My first introduction to sexual tension. I knew Pierce Brosnan would go places! And I loved how he said Laura's name - "Loooooorrra". Gah. Take me now.
Roseanne: Because for me, it was the first sitcom that showed the way some American families really were - right down to the afghan thrown on the couch. I especially liked how they didn't vague up discussions about money. The Conners were barely hanging on to the status of working class, but they didn't pity themselves or wallow. I think my favorite episode was when Jackie was smacked around by her boyfriend and Dan, who always loudly proclaimed his general exasperation with her, went over and beat the shit out of said boyfriend. It wasn't about condoning violence - Dan ended up in jail - but it was a pretty honest depiction of what a lot of people I know would do.
S - Silk Stalkings: The aforementioned sexual tension, only a bit cheaper and more synthetic. But again, pretty people, lingering glances. I don't ask for much.
T - Twin Peaks: Loved it. It was quirky, but at least in the beginning it wasn't smirkingly self-conscious about it. There was real drama and pain, as well as gentle and not-so-gentle humor.
U - Well, hell.
V - VR5: This short-lived series with Lori Singer ('Footloose', anyone?) aaaaaand...Anthony Stewart Head! He was primo hot, too. Very edgy and dark, and had this reluctant affection for Syd, the chick who has special dial-up powers.
W - Wiseguy: An incredibly overlooked series from Stephen J. Cannell. Ken Wahl, Jonathan Banks and in the best episodes, William Russ. One of the first shows ever to have season- or half-season-long plot arcs.
X - The X-Files: Mulder/Scully, UST, NC-17. My very first exposure to fanfiction. The show kicked ass, too, at least until I stopped watching it.
Y - Young and The Restless: I liked soaps as a kid. I wanted to go to Genoa City.
Z - ZOOM: Does anyone remember this? "The public television program created by kids, for kids." I mostly recall the big yellow Z-O-O-M lettering that every show opened with.
In a further stab at independence, and because it's that time of the month for me, I'm also posting my own, brand-new meme:
Televisions Shows I Hate, From A to Z
A - Ally McBeal: Fuck off and die.
B - Boston Public: Which episode of this show is not the most "shocking", "controversial", or "gratuitously sensationalistic"? Okay, those were my words that last time. But really. Appealing young teachers facing down the crisis-of-the-week, played by actors who get paid more per episode than most teachers get per year.
C - Caroline in the City: Giving a bad name to women, urban dwellers, the preposition 'in' and article 'the'.
D - Dharma and Greg: Jenna Elfman bugs.
F - Felicity: I can't stand you, with your thrift-store corduroys and artfully curling tendrils of hair and phenomenal shallowness. Forget about your romantic woes - Ben and Noel have been screwing for the past three seasons. Ha! Cry, Felicity! Cry!
G - girls club: More useless crap from David E. Kelley, right down to its edgy rejection of capital letters. Yes. Now you are as deep and culturally relevant as e.e. cummings. Get a job, David E. Kelley. Or just give it up entirely or start sponging off your wife. But stay away from my television set.
J - John Doe: I've managed to sit through two episodes of this show. It's so painfully bad, but it used to follow 'Firefly' so my boyfriend and I would watch until its utter craptasticness drove us to change the channel. (We're kind of lazy.)
L - Last Call with Carson Daly: This guy is like the Norman Bates of modern pop music. I wish he and Tara Reid had stayed together because they so clearly deserve one another.
M - Martial Law: They filmed this in one of the apartment buildings I lived in, and I couldn't use the elevator for three days. I lived on the twelfth floor.
P - Pacific Blue: "Hot action sequences. Radical bike stunts. Plenty of California girls. Just another week at the beach for the Santa Monica Police Department's hot-shot Bike Patrol." I have nothing to add.
S - Sex and the City: Fuck off and die.
W - Wanda At Large: I haven't actually seen this show, but they showed about a zillion commercials for it during '24' and I already hate it.
03.27.03
Say Goodbye to Hollywood/Say Goodbye, my baby...Hee. So, today I saw Simon Cowell. (If you don't rot your brain watching exploitative and cheaply-produced reality television shows -- Simon puts the UUUHHH in judge on 'American Idol'.) Anyway, he's very pleased with his recent notoriety, and is also quite good-looking in person. I must admit that the latter discovery surprised me. Of my fairly infrequent celebrity sightings, the individuals in question usually looked pretty rank. Myself included. When I lived in L.A., it was virtually assured that when I put on my baggy overalls and Cubs ball cap and went to the Vons at midnight to pick up tampons, cough syrup and two packages of ready-made cookie dough, I'd be in the checkout line in front of Cuba Gooding, Jr. or that kid who plays Francis on 'Malcolm in the Middle' (dude is short).
Anyway, I've actually spent some time contemplating this little non-event. Because even if you live full-time in Los Angeles, you're not exactly tripping over celebrities. At least not if you live in my various neighborhoods. So I've decided that seeing Simon, on my first trip to L.A. in a month, is a sign. It's Los Angeles' way of telling me goodbye. "Here!" L.A. says. "Please take this mildly aesthetically appealing aging starlet/fame whore who happens to have a boyishly charming smile, with our compliments. Best of luck in your new, foliage-intensive endeavour." Like a going-away gift. I would have preferred chocolate cake but then L.A. would have probably slipped me a dozen laxatives with it and pointed me to the nearest bathroom ("All the girls do it. It's easier after the first time.").
With that in mind, I'd like to take this opportunity to bid farewell to some of the people, places and things that have made my sojourn in the City of Angels so memorable:
Goodbye, angel that guarded my first apartment building, on the corner of Olympic and Grand in downtown L.A.
Goodbye Ross, Dress For Less. Sweet, sweet Ross.
Goodbye, graffiti-covered Sunset Boulevard offices of my first employer, the dot-com that dot-bombed. I know the receivers sold off the pool table and the Bettie Page silhouette, but a part of me wonders if the faintest trace of cocaine still lingers on the sinks of the womens' bathroom.
Goodbye, emergency room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Although I no longer get my official frequent visitor extra-disinfected IV, you and your waiting room will be in my heart forever.
Goodbye, Hermes store on Rodeo Drive where The Fonz smiled and winked at me as I bought a scarf for my mother.
Goodbye, Yamashiro -- pinnacle of the view outside my Hollywood apartment.
Goodbye, steel gates outside the Salvation Army on Ninth Street, into which the Jeep was catapulted (along with its driver) when a tour bus drove perpendicular across four lanes of one-way traffic.
Goodbye, countless dim and scary parking garages.
Goodbye, countless dim and scary first dates.
Goodbye, Rock 'N' Roll Denny's where I once watched Martin Landau attentively escorted to 'his' booth by waitstaff, but which I heard has been closed down due to a shooting -- does anyone know if this is true?
Goodbye, old West Hollywood-adjacent neighborhood whose streets were peppered by 'NO TURN BETWEEN THE HOURS OF ELEVEN P.M. and FOUR A.M' signs, the purpose of which was to discourage soliciting prostitutes. I think I got the hours right. Not sure, though.
Goodbye, Other Denny's where I sat in a booth and cried silently because my car was being serviced and it was going to cost me the rent money.
Goodbye, appealingly-tattooed bouncer named Jamie.
Goodbye, former apartments. They were studios, and sometimes overpriced, and always small. But I loved them to pieces and miss them terribly. Miss the person I was when I lived in them, but before things got really bad.
Goodbye, brightly colored and -- need I mention -- stationary yellow cement pole, into which I backed the Jeep three separate times. The last time, I called up the owner of the body shop sobbing and Jaime gave me the final bumper at cost.
Goodbye, perpetually delighted look on my mother's face as I took her to carefully chosen destinations during her visits. Malibu, Brentwood, South Pasadena. The last time she visited me in Los Angeles, we went to the Getty Museum. She flew home the next day, and the day after that I was in the hospital.
Goodbye, strange city that I swear I can't stand but which has left an indelible smudge on my heart. As someone else you hosted briefly said -- "I'll be back."
03.25.03
I've added Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 of Wayward. Input, as always, is appreciated.
Note: These installments do not contain spoilers for tonight's episode, unless by sheer coincidence. I watched the first five minutes of it last night, freaked out to sisabet about being Jossed, and promptly shut it off and got something to eat (scrambled eggs and ham).
03.24.03
That Joss is squatting in my bushes again, I just know it.
I had such a cool scene written out. I was all excited because it jarred my muse out of her cheesecake-induced stupor. And then that damn Joss Whedon comes along and starts messing with the characters, you know...like they're his or something. I'm complaining to sisabet that he's stealing my ideas. My proposal: Spike and Principal Wood should just have hot monkey sex for the remaining episodes of the series, and leave my fanfic plotting undisturbed.
03.23.03
There's a convention in Chicago, yes? In May? Are any of y'all going? Because we'll be in crunchy Colorado by then, and I could drive down. To see my family and other loved ones, of course, but also to sexually harass in person any fandom people who are going to be there.
03.22.03
Everyone should take a page from truecrystal's book, and do something nice for another person. I mean something that you wouldn't normally do; something that would take a little bit of courage, even. It's worth it. You'll never even know how much your unexpected act of kindness will make a difference.
My boyfriend and I just got back from seeing 'Tears of the Sun'. It's about this American military unit that rescues a band of refugees after a coup in Nigeria. My boyfriend lived in various parts of Africa for many years, and he actually translated bits of the dialogue. In my own nod to multicultural linguistics, I will say that I was mucho impressed.
Last but not least, my non-fanfic contribution to the 'make smut, not war' campaign currently populating LiveJournal: A picture of my bed. You do the rest.
03.18.03
I haven't slept in about thirty hours. This is just a whiny, self-pitying post about a variety of subjects (but not the impending war), so honestly -- feel free to skip right over. No, really.
This new story I'm working on has stalled, big time. Sputter, sputter, cough...'Wayward' grinds to a halt at ten o'clock at night, on the deserted corner of Sunset and Silver Lake -- oh, wait. Never mind. That was the Jeep, circa 1997. I was torn about writing this story in the first place; this niggling voice in the back of my head whispered that as enamoured as I might be with the idea, it was not a story that should be -- could be? -- written, by me at any rate. I'm terrified that it's devolving into the much-despised cliches of fanfic: gratuitous hurt/comfort (though Lord knows I'm a sucker for it) and Mary Sue-ing in the form of a semi-original character (that is, one whose actual presence on the show was minimal, leaving a writer to expand on almost every personality facet).
I've gotten great encouragement from a variety of sources, most notably missmurchison and Spike's upper arms as seen in the subway scene of 'Fool for Love'. Still, I've never felt quite this discouraged over a fic. With 'Roundabout' it was all fun, for me at least -- Spike and Dawn road-tripping, Buffy actin' all crazy and enjoying it, cameos by my old downtown L.A. haunts -- and 'The Down Below' took place mainly in a basement, so it was pretty much all character study, all the time. This one...this is like one of those clever inspirations that should have remained purely theoretical, like health food or deciding that the highly irritating Kate Hudson should be the new It Girl for the foreseeable future.
Also? I'm having trouble sleeping. This is bothering me way more than it should, simply because sleep is one of the constant joys of my life. I can sleep at any time, for no reason at all. I can sleep for hours and then go back for more. I am a sleeper. Well, except for now. Now I am a snarling wretch, whose brain is so fuzzy that she was driving to work yesterday and couldn't remember whether or not she'd brushed her teeth that morning.
In closing, I just got a roll of pictures developed. Bean took pictures of me in the black leather pants I tried on at Nordstroms, and I should have bought them. Now I am pants-less. No, really. I am. I should have been getting ready for work this whole time and I'm still in the Band of Buggered t-shirt I wore to bed.
03.16.03
I thought I'd update this when I had a new chapter of 'Wayward', but that seems to be...not happening. So here's some other random blather:
Gave my notice at work on Monday. Despite the fact that I'm not exactly attached to the job, I was worried that my boss would be angry. Angry and mean. Instead he was incredibly supportive, and said a lot of nice things about me that he didn't have to say to someone on her way out the door. Finally, he told me that they'd try to find a way for me to work in some capacity from home, after I move. That was a total ego boost. Even if it doesn't work out (I don't think it will) it was quite flattering to hear.
I had chocolate cake yesterday.
A Meme I Stole From lovebytez
Spell your first name backwards: Lived. Which is...inspiring. Um, I guess. Hopefully a bit premature as well.
The story behind your lj user name: I worry that I've told this story too many times, but here goes -- back before my boyfriend and I started dating, there was a humorous exchange with him, me and the guys I worked with in which he referred to me as a 'piglet'. The boys thought this was hysterical. I nearly choked on my sandwich. Somewhere along the line, 'devil' was added (I can't imagine why).
Are you a lesbian: Only online.
Where do you live: Southern California. But not for long.
4 words that sum you up: Hey, is that chocolate
Describe your...
Wallet: Unused, currently lost.
Hairbrush: Black, silver, on its last legs.
Toothbrush: Black and white and toothpaste-encrusted.
Jewelry worn daily: None. Waaaaay too much responsibility, there.
Pillow cover: ...The traditional kind, I guess.
Blanket: Too damn big to wash in our home washer, so I have to take it out to get dry-cleaned. Like, now; before it gets up and walks away on its own.
Coffee cup: Don't drink it.
Tea cup: Ditto.
Glasses: Black, and only worn when I'm too lazy to put in my contacts.
Underwear: Every day!
Shoes: The same black, chunky-heeled pair I've worn for the past year or so. I like routine.
Handbag: A lovely Coach purse of excellent workmanship that spends all of its time inside my thirteen-dollar discount-store backpack.
Favorite top: There are so many -- the little red one with the mandarin collar that I got in Chinatown; the skullgirl-with-pigtails tee that was a Christmas gift; any of those tight, stretchy shirts that put my boss in a warm and generous mood.
Cologne/Perfume: None.
CD(s) in stereo right now: Chet Baker.
Tattoos: None, but the other night I was looking for some temporary ones.
Piercing: None. Can you tell I have commitment issues?
What you are wearing now: One of my boyfriend's shirts, much to his dismay. I'm starting a collection.
Makeup: Lipstick.
Who or what (was/is/are)...
In my mouth: The occasional sip of my early-morning Diet Pepsi.
In my head: Not much; insomnia makes me stupid.
Wishing: For a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
After this: Breakfast. Mmm....food.
Talking to: My best friend, via Instant Messenger.
Eating: Sadly, nothing yet.
If you could get away with it and murder anyone, who and for what reason: Please! That would be wrong! Carrot Top; Jules Asner; Lenny Kravitz.
Person you wish you could see right now: My mom and dad.
Is next to you: A box of stuffed animals.
Some of your favorite movies: L.A. Confidential, Dead Again, Return of the Jedi, Queen Margot, Olivier, Olivier, Smilla's Sense of Snow, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, The Lost Boys.
Something you're looking forward to in the upcoming month: Becoming, for a few brief moments, a lady of leisure.
Something that you are deathly afraid of: Financial collapse.
Do you like candles: In theory, yes. But I worry that I'll accidentally leave one burning and cause a fire, so I never use them.
Do you like hot wax: Haven't had enough exposure to it to formulate an opinion.
Do you like incense: No. It reminds me of pot.
Do you like the taste of blood: Well, I do prefer my meat rare...
Do you believe in love: Yes.
Do you believe in soul mates: Maybe.
Do you believe in love at first sight: No.
Do you believe in Heaven: Here's hoping.
Do you believe in forgiveness: Yes.
What do you want done with your body when you die: Bury me, please. I'd appreciate it.
Who is your worst enemy:My brain. I'm absolutely serious.
If you could have any animal for a pet, what would it be: A Bengal tiger. Or maybe a really big dog.
What is the latest you've ever stayed up: Geez...about forty hours in a row, maybe. Nothing special.
Can you eat with chopsticks: As a child, I could. Not anymore.
What are some of your favorite pig out foods: What aren't? But really, anything fried.
What's something that you wish people would understand: Common courtesy and consideration in the grocery store.
Anyone you miss that you haven't seen in a long time: Sigh...everybody.
03.11.03
I have a problem.
We are looking at new places to live. This should be a fun, exciting, giggly experience. Instead I'm stressing, as I do roughly 99.44% of every waking moment. I know it's hard to look beyond the milk moustache and Cheetos breath, but I'm really a very anxious person.
We're in a very fortunate position. We can get a place that would be just lovely, a place anyone would be thrilled to call home. This prospect terrifies me.
The apartment I'm in now is the first one I've had that actually had rooms, and doors, multiple. My old apartments were tiny studios with a smattering of furniture and improbably gorgeous views. And I was poor, and a strangely not-humorous string of bad luck made me poorer, and eventually I was like the twenty-first century equivalent of the tubercular neighbor hacking away in an upstairs garret. I do have a point here, by the way.
So things are different now, but I still have the same sensibility - of living uber-simply, of budgeting ruthlessly. I feel as though every time I've reached for something I've had my hand slapped back. To me, taking advantage of our current good fortune would be tantamount to painting a karmic target on my ass. It awakens the slumbering Puritan inside me, who warns that I'm just asking for trouble. (Um...a Puritan would probably be more likely to use the words 'smite' and 'rain of misery' but go with me here.)
I should make it clear here that even if the very worst happened, I would bear no legal or civil responsibility for any debts. A prosaic thing to mention, but if you've ever been really poor you think in those terms - "Is my name on the lease?" "How long before this account gets sent to a collection agency?" "If the electricity gets turned off, I don't have the money for the deposit to turn it back on." These were the thoughts that played an endless loop in my brain at night, once I finished obsessively cataloging my bills and re-calculating my expenses, only to - surprise! - come up with the same numbers every time. Damn numbers.
I'm not sure why I'm sharing all this, except to get my head clear a bit. Something has to change, because my lack of enthusiasm is dampening spirits other than my own. It all boils down to fear. I've stood between a little boy and a violent crackhead, and I coped very well when that crazy guy hit my car and then tried to pull me out the driver's side window. I've even voluntarily looked at recent photos of Michael Jackson. Just can't seem to get my head around this thing, though.
In happier, sexier news, missmurchison has posted an absolutely luscious Spike/Lilah ficlet. It's set Season 3, and reads like an outtake from 'In The Dark'. Lilah's her usual indefatigable self and Spike is lickably sinister, but even better than that is the way Miss M reveals the subtlest glimmerings of the man Spike will become, and her unflinching embrace of Lilah, the ultimate survivor.
Pleasure Before Pain: Lilah, Spike, a hotel room, garter belts and game faces. NC-17 in the best kind of way.
03.10.03
Chapter 3 of Wayward slightly. I wanted to clarify exactly what occured just before the final scene -- basically, I gave the mug some back story. Some context. I explored the mug's motivation, its raison d'etre if you will.
Actually the few lines I added had existed at some point, and been lost during various edits. A little general straightening up as well. Nothing spectacular here; if the earlier installment went down without trouble then ignore this. If, however, you read it and went (understandably) "WTF?", then -- this chapter's for you!
( Wayward, Part 3: Ripening )
I'm at work, and trying to wolf down my lunch and dodge drama. But I wanted to make a quick post here and note that I changed my username (to devilpiglet). So no one got de-friended or anything (un-friended?), as I've been asked. I've just...(sniffle) finally accepted my sinister porcine nature. No trips to Africa for me -- I'm the Pig Bad!
03.09.03
1) Memories. How do they work? How do I add some to my profile, and read the ones others have defined? It's all very confusing and I haven't had breakfast yet.
2) Even though it may seem like a good idea at the time, never use a can of Diet Pepsi as a hammer to break up a block of ice. Really. From the IM, as I was describing the domestic disaster to missmurchison:
Miss M: You didn't!
The Oinklet: This is me. I totally, totally did.
3) I've been apartment-hunting online for places in Colorado. My discovery? I can, conceivably, save $800 in rent a month. Same type of apartment, same amenities, probably fewer freeway chases and crackheads.
I was so excited that I shared this information with everyone I could. I even added buddies to AIM (various fandom people who'd made some sort of contact with me in the past) in order to tell them about my amazing discovery. With the exception of harmonyfb, however, I found I was to inhibited to actually IM them out the blue. But I must say that each person I did manage to corral was very polite and humored me graciously, even though this news was probably not as interesting to them as it was to me.
03.07.03 - Later
Thanks to everyone for the lovely comments about Wayward. I'm going to respond as soon as I can string two thoughts together.
Also -- I'm three days into Lent and I feel I should clarify to God -- just so we're all on the same page here -- exactly what I mean when I say that I'm giving up fast food:
FAST FOOD IS:
|
FAST FOOD IS NOT:
|
I've posted the third chapter of Wayward. Reviews, as always, are welcome.
I'd also like to dedicate this fic to
missmurchison, because she patiently listened to me whine about semi-original characters and Spike's upper arms and how there really aren't any synonyms for the word 'basement' because 'cellar' is something totally different. As I was saying, any other person would have smacked me silly long ago. Thanks, Miss M.
03.05.03
harmonyfb: Neither. Skippy. Creamy kind, because crunchy is the tool of the devil. Your question prompted one of my dangerous internet searches, and I came up with this informative web page. It's not so much the content of the page (brand-name peanut butter has added salt and oil? Holy f*cking sh*t!) but the style. I don't think I could muster this sense of righteous anger for a march on Washington or an equal rights rally, but this guy is in a bring it on mood over the peanut butter. George Washington Carver, see what you have wrought?
That Girl at work has been a right cow all week. Stalking, slamming doors, and engaging in other, more focused nastiness. It seems like this should ease my mind about resigning, but it doesn't. I feel bad for my boss, who's always been fairly decent to me. And I kind of feel bad for her, because as rude as she's acting she has no idea that me and the Other Girl are both giving notice this week. She'll be swamped, and it wasn't my intention to leave her in a bad way. This is all very disconcerting. I consider myself to be an extremely bitter and vindictive person in general, and now I can't even manage to quit and enjoy it.
I watched 'Married By America' tonight. I'm so ashamed. I'm giving up fast food for Lent so I wonder if somehow these two developments cancel each other out. What? It makes sense to me.
03.04.03
Below are the replies to that 'Ask Me Anything' poll that was going around. I originally posted a couple of these as comments in that particular LJ entry, but then I realized that I'm probably the only person who reads the comments in my journal. Sometimes I'm slow.rashakacaillewisteria_lovebytezsunlit5
Is it?
Actually, we're looking at a few places. Denver, or the outlying areas, or one of the mountain towns like Breckinridge.
Went out to lunch today -- had the first of those conversations where I tell my friends I'm moving, and not just to another town. Soon I'll make phone calls for movers, and start buying boxes, and take the car in for a checkup and do a zillion other little things that you do when you're closing up shop. Friday I give notice at work. It still all seems kind of unreal to me. Maybe I need to start packing -- that will certainly provide a healthy dose of authenticity to the proceedings.
Finally, I'm eating broccoli. I've slathered it in half a stick of margarine but I still feel dirty and wrong.
03.02.03 - Later
I fixed the links to Chapter 2 of Wayward. The moral of this story? I shouldn't think on an empty stomach. Truly! And damn it, if this means I have to eat constantly -- well, I'm willing to take one for the team.
03.03.03
Added Chapter 2 of my new fic, Wayward.
I'm kind of sensitive about this particular story. I feel like I want to add one of those shrieky, insistent caveats of "NO FLAMES PLEEEAAASE!!!" Instead, I'll go out to dinner at Macaroni Grill. My boyfriend can never remember the name of that restaurant and calls it 'Spaghetti Station' instead.
03.01.03
Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead.
....Or simply a new resident. I'm moving. In a month. To Colorado. I'm in shock, even though I've wanted this for a long time. I'll be much closer to my family, and the area is beautiful, and the cost of living will be lower, and I won't have to deal with those stresses particular to Southern California. I'm thrilled; I just can't seem to wrap my mind around it.
Before whenever I moved, it was due directly or indirectly to chaos and abject poverty. Now it's for a good reason, and with a good person alongside me. My life has changed, and I can nod and accept that but my heart is still afraid. I have the sense memory of when things were different. It's hard to shake that off. I'm trying. Right now I'm pretty excited about the prospect of my car insurance rates going down.
I thought that new poll going around had some terrifying potential. saussy and I have already exchanged well-worn pickup lines and assorted personal information. So, hit me!
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