st paul’s cathedral & millennium bridge, from the tate modern
Can I? Can I just…
I have this picture in a scrapbook, and I’ve been thinking about using it as a FB cover photo or in my blog for a long time. Seeing how the bridge wasn’t built until 2000 the photo was definitely from my 2002 trip to London. The one where I thought I only had a digital camera.
I was getting so annoyed / pissed off / absolutely enraged that out of all the thousands of London pictures I have, the one I want is the one I can not find. Anywhere.
And then, I came across a print of the photo.
What. The. Fuck.
No. Seriously. I have no idea where the print came from. All of the other pictures in that scrapbook were digital. There’s no reason that that one picture should only exist in my world as a print.
If you’re friends with me on Facebook, today you saw:
1) the closing paperwork from when my dad sold the house I grew up in
2) business cards from WRK and the Storm
3) ‘souvenirs’ from my time as an intern for the Hartford Failures
So very weird to find all that stuff. I like to call them “memory landmines” - you know, you’re going through a box of stuff and it’s like “oh, bills, bills, what the hell did I save this for, and HOLY FUCK! I SAVED A STORM BUSINESS CARD!”
I found that Storm card, and suddenly, I was packing my car and moving to Ohio, meeting J and just… reliving all that.
I didn’t spend nearly enough time cleaning that room out. There’s so much more to do, and so much I’m not capable of dealing with right now.
Eh, I can only do what I can do, and that’s asking a little much right now.
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.
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.
We’re discussing our pre-game dinner when J decides he wants to play charades.
J: holds up five fingers
J: points at self
J: flips the bird
me: Five pussies fuck me? That’s a hell of a restaurant!
holy fuck, whovians! never change…
One more chapter and ZURICH! is done. I’ve received a few comments that people want more, but… I don’t know. This Cabin Pressure fan fic was always meant to be a trilogy - first, we get Martin’s story, then Douglas’, and then finally, Marlas happens in all its fluffy goodness. There were four (and then five) chapters written in total, but I’m torn as to whether or not I add an epilogue. I could - there’s enough left in those chapters to cobble something together.
I’m not going to lie - it’ll be sad to leave this AU (Is it an AU? I don’t even know any more. Maybe?), but I think it’s time. I have plenty of other things to write about regarding Cabin Pressure, but this trilogy has come to its natural resolution… *sigh* I’m going to miss them.
In other fan fic news, I’m still cranking away on the Johnlock… 53K words or something ridiculous like that because I can’t put it down. I NEED to finish it. I’d like to finish it before NaNo ends tonight, but I don’t know if I can.
I was looking into a service called “TheTelly” - it basically lets you rent a slingbox that you can dial into and watch UK channels (overly simplified description of their business model.) I have other ways to watch Sherlock without TheTelly, but I thought it might be worth a try. So I started to look into it, and then I had questions. I had a rather nice email chat with a guy named Robert and then, in my final email, I joked that I would clean their corporate office’s toilets if they would sponsor me for a tier 2 visa. Then, he tells me to call him.
Um, OK. I did, but I still had some questions, so it was legit.
It turns out he’s a British ex-pat, living in Illinois, and he wanted to know why I wanted to move so badly. Then he spent 22 minutes (I looked at the phone) trying to talk me out of moving there. The VAT, the cost of petrol, culture shock, blah blah blah.
I know my reasoning sounds stupid, and even a tad bit immature, because, well, it boils down to “I just want to move there.” There’s no real thought behind it. Just the knowledge that it’s time. And I’ve always listened to my gut when it comes to things like this. Even though Ohio didn’t work out in the long run, it was worth all the shit.
I’ve been thinking about this move for a long time, but I’ve never had the balls to do it… well, I’ve grown a pair.
After his ‘sales pitch’ to emigrate to somewhere else in Europe, I came to the sad realisation that I couldn’t afford their services and then found several things wrong with his website… Of course, being a bug finder doesn’t get me a discount on their services. *pout*
Oh well, TheTelly’s not the only one that can provide me a slingbox I can dial into. I happen to have one in Belguim I can access… (BECAUSE I HAVE AWESOME FUCKING FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!)
Silly BBC, did you really think I was going to wait to watch it in the US?
If spoilers weren’t such a huge deal, I could be patient, but shit… I was seeing Doctor Who anniversary episode spoilers SECONDS after whatever it was happened in the show. Thank Dog that was aired simultaneously across the world. Could you imagine what would have happened if we had had to wait to watch it? (Well, besides the common everyday uproar that BBC America sucks some hardcore hairy wanger.)
So, yeah, that.
REALLY excited about Wednesday’s job interview. I’ve got to start prepping for the it. I don’t want to let this one slip through my hands…
And with that, I’m back to Johnlock…