I’m making J sit through a Martin Freeman Christmas movie double feature: Love Actually and Nativity.
I have some friends who absolutely hate, and I mean HATE, Love Actually and I’m not going to pretend it’s a cinematic masterpiece. It is, in fact, a big steaming pile of shit, but Martin Freeman as a body double cracks me the fuck up. (It just aired on AMC and they edited out his bits (HA!), so if you’re curious, catch it on Netflix.)
Last year, Silent P gave me a t-shirt that says “Admitting you’re an asshole is the first step.”
It’s a size smaller than I normally wear, and I never wore it before I started working out.
I may not have lost any weight during the past year, but the shape of my body has definitely changed.
So, I wore the shirt the other day and decided to take a selfie.
25 attempts later, I gave up.
I never, ever, ever, ever, EVER, thought I’d say this, but I was uncomfortable posting any of the good ones because they made my tits look HUGE.
Like porn star, silicone implant, huge.
Losing weight and growing boobs.
Even if I never survive a GORUCK Challenge, working out has definitely been worth it.
twelve arrives and a sherlock mini-episode… i may just explode
I put up lights in my office.
Put up the tree.
Listened to “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”
Sang along to the New Kids on the Block Christmas album.
What the everloving fuck is wrong with me?
I can’t write Cabin Pressure fan fic for the life of me right now… I just can’t ‘hear’ the characters in my head anymore. I’ve got to go back and listen to the episodes again. Including “Molokai” (the Christmas episode! WOOO!).
Sing it with me now:
Get dressed, you merry gentlemen! Let nothing you dismay! For it is Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Day! It’s Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Day! It is Chri-i-i-i-istmas Day, Chri-istmas Day! It is Chri-i-i-i-ismas Day!
My contact at the Polish Consulate is apparently a big fat liar. Or clueless. I don’t know which one is worse.
I received my package back today with a letter that says they do not do public records searches for genealogy purposes. I’m trying to apply for citizenship, via my grandfather, but I need his birth certificate first. The woman I spoke with knew that, told me what to do, where to send the information to, blah blah blah, so I did.
And now I need to start all over again.
Other random bits: I found my Delta Sigma Pi ritual book from 2002-2003.
I remember using it with my kids at Bowling Green and Michigan. Xi struggled to be a good chapter, but Theta Pi was amazing that year, down to the ritual. I was so proud of those kids, my heart still swells with joy when I remember watching the pledges become Brothers. Theta Pi’s also the reason I won District Director of the year in the region and the district.
I remember how disgusted I was that my Brothers totally disregarded the ritual when they voted someone back into National Office who had supposedly done some questionable things with some underaged girls. Is it true? I don’t know. All I know is that the Brother was suspended and removed from his leadership position. There were also rumours of him stealing from his chapters. Again, is it true? Fucked if I know, but the allegations were strong enough for him to be removed.
I can’t (of course) quote the ritual directly, but the vow we take basically says, “I won’t do anything that will fuck over the fraternity.”
He violated that vow, and I’m still a little bitter over it.
I took that shit seriously back then, and I still do now.
I am, and I will always be, Delta Sigma Pi, Theta Iota, Seven-One-Four.
yep… sherlock has a military kink
Speaking of military kink, I don’t know why the fandom insists upon it, but I know that retired / invalided military types don’t tend to wear their dog tags. They might if they’re active (I don’t know and never asked), but I’ve never seen an ex-military person wear them. There’s a bunch of fan fic out there where John is still wearing his tags and he takes them off his neck and gives them to Sherlock to wear. I don’t see that happening at all. Maybe he takes them out of a box and makes a romantic gift of them, but every time I see John wearing them, it makes me feel weird. Like the writer doesn’t understand the enormity of the symbolism behind those pieces of tin… I know what my dad’s tags meant to him: they were an unhappy reminder of the things he did in Viet Nam and he never wanted to see them again. I can’t imagine John - sweet, scarred John who has nightmares, a psychosomatic limp, hand tremors, and is possibly suffering from depression / PTSD - wearing them at home. AT ALL.
I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve found the one ‘normal’ thing that makes me all squicky.
And there’s been a development in the world of Sherlock fan fic that absolutely pisses me off to no end.
There was a huge screening of S3, E1 “The Empty Hearse” yesterday in London, with a Q & A with the cast…
The fucking moderator had Benedict and Martin read some fan fic. EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE ON RECORD AS NOT BEING COMFORTABLE WITH IT.
And, and, and, and!
IT WAS ROMANTIC, LEADING TOWARDS PORNOGRAPHIC. (I’ve read the fic, I like the fic, but really?!?! They didn’t get to the dirty part, but the part she had them read was obviously leading up to it.)
So - yeah - it got a lot of people up in arms. People hating fan fic writers, fan fic writers hating people like her, fluff vs. porn, I’ve seen it all in the past barely 24 hours. And this isn’t the first time publicity about fic has gotten out of control (look at all the Destiel shit going around, and around, and around, in the Supernatural fandom), which makes this all the more tragic.
I can’t even say what’s going on in my own head… but I guess the short version would be that fan fiction exists, it’s not going anywhere soon, and that we all need to be a little more respectful of ACD / Mofftiss’ creations and the actors who have brought them to life. Does that mean that the PWP writers need to stop? Not necessarily… If the media would let it go, we’d all be better off. The actors are aware it’s out there. The press is aware it’s out there. Can we just leave it at that? When was the last time you saw JK Rowling answering questions about Drarry? OR Romianie? OR Forge (twincest, dude! TWINCEST!)? The Harry Potter fan fic is just as crazy, just as dirty, just as ridiculous as Sherlock’s, but for whatever reason, everybody’s interested in Benedict and Martin’s reactions. Which is such bullshit that I can’t… I just can’t.
And… while we’re on the topic of squick and porn…
MY FUCKING BETA IS FIFTEEN. FIF-FUCKING-TEEN. ONE-FUCKING-FIVE.
Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking pogo stick.
I knew she was young - they all are compared to me - but I didn’t think she was that young.
The scary thing is, she’s actually pretty good. She’s read the first four out of the thirty prompts, and holy shit, does she know the Cabin Pressure canon inside and out. l couldn’t ask for a better beta, but the age thing… Wow.
I guess it’s a good thing that all my attempts at porn in the 2013 Johnlock NaNoWriMo Experience From Hell, no matter how much I tried to dig in and really write it, went something like this: John kissed Sherlock. Sherlock kissed him back. “Bedroom?” “Oh, God, yes!” /// The next morning, John woke up to the sound of something exploding in the kitchen. I can’t imagine giving a fifteen year old some heavy duty porn to proofread, even if she’s reading it on her own elsewhere. I will willingly corrupt the youth of America, but even I have boundaries!
And let’s end this on a happy note: I just read the most beautiful piece of fan fic that didn’t make me cry. Father_Christmas is just amazing. And yeah, again, I saved the PDF of it to read later. As I told the author in the comments, it was a nice reminder that Christmas shouldn’t always be about the empty chairs at the dinner table. It should be about Luke and Han and hope and those that are still sitting at the table.
Even if you’re not a Sherlock fan, it’s good. (No Johnlock - just a little boy’s letters to Father Christmas and the results.)
I’m sucking on a candy cane and well… being me.
I pull it out of my mouth, and go to put it back in (trying to be sexy, which is laughable in and of itself, as you’d know if you ever spent any quality time with me).
It does not end well.
Let’s just put it this way:
A candy cane up the nose is decidedly NOT sexy. And peppermint burns.
this never fails to make me smile
I have no idea who I am anymore.
And for the first time in my life, I think I’m really OK with that.
Normally, I try to channel the mania when I go to Albany so that I can ensure I have a good time. It’s not always possible, and it might have more to do with being an introvert and simply having to conserve energy in order to be social, but last night? Last night was ME. Stable, grown up, me in my truest form.
I bought drinks for the first two band members who spent time with me (and before the band tab started). I would have bought for the entire band, but I never got the opportunity… and given my history with alcoholism, it’s a constant source of amazement that I spend so much time in bars, let alone encourage others to drink. So yeah, beers for all!
It was a celebration of the end of my unemployment.
It was a celebration of me finally finding the right place.
From making comments about looking at Bill’s chest instead of his face (he’s fucking tall), a really inappropriate conversation about an older woman who wasn’t wearing panties under her dress, to the LOOK On Bill’s face when all he heard was the tail end of a conversation where I said “Rape me!”, he and I had a pretty good time. I even sat on his lap at one point! I may or may not have also said I wasn’t married last night. (You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.) He even did something completely out of character and invited me to crash at his place.
Rollz, who never ceases to surprise me, came over to me and instead of saying hi like normal, he said something like, “Hello, gorgeous.” I looked at him and was like, “WOO! An upgrade!” I guess learning piano is easier than learning the guitar, but it’s the one instrument I want to learn that I can’t. All the keys look the same - it’s a never ending sea of black and white. I was called a racist, which cracked me up, and then I listed all the instruments I played, ending with the flute. The skin flute.
Rollz, Charlie, and I were talking about how I was driving home after the show, and I said that I have a blanket and pillow in my car in case I have to crash at a rest stop. Charlie said something about being responsible and locking the car doors if I do that. Rollz suggested that I leave them unlocked and I said that I’m just going to hang a sign on the side of my car that says “Rape me!”
I met a big cuddly teddy bear who has been a friend of Annie’s forever and he told me that the ten years I have on them doesn’t make me old, it makes me superior. Because I’ve lived through things they can only read about. The only reason that even came up is because he said that he used to love R.E.M. when they were still ‘dangerous.’ (Dangerous? Really?) He remembered Monster coming out when he was in ELEMENTARY school. I was in my junior year of college, and waited outside a record store, so I could buy it at midnight. Looking at the time frame, I think he was a little confused. He would have been around what? 10 or 11? Is that still elementary school? I have no idea. At any rate, I felt SO FUCKING OLD.
I’m sorry. I felt SO FUCKING SUPERIOR.
For the first time in a very long time, it was nice to be myself… I don’t dance in small clubs where I’m visible, but I did allow myself to sing along.
I need more nights exactly like last night.