Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Ativan + bathroom…

I’m too lazy to find the blog entry that I pulled the title from, but it’s in the archives somewhere.

I’m afraid of the direction my Cabin Pressure fan fic is heading in. I seriously want to pop an ativan and hide in the bathroom until after my muse sits in the corner, thinks about what it’s done, and gives me a more comfortable storyline.

That said, let’s move on…

Last night at knitting, the women were all talking about technology and how much they liked/disliked about phones, Kindles, etc. They got on the topic of the Patriot Act and the government’s spying on people. A few of them don’t use the ‘club’ cards that stores have (CVS, Shaw’s, Rite Aid…). A few of them refuse to use an E-ZPass.

Considering how much of my life is online, I could only sit back and laugh.

All I can say is, for as much as I HATE the idea of Johnlock sex, my muse is forcing some Marlas sex into my fiction. I don’t know about the rest of you girls out there, but this female trying to write about two guys getting it on? I have a rough idea of how the equipment works because I’ve been with guys and well… you know, but other than that? I got nuttin’.

Dog. Bless. Google.

I really hope to hell that the government is monitoring my google usage right now. It’s pretty interesting…

Between trying to figure out how to become a German citizen based on Mom’s birth certificate, move to the UK, find a job, Mapquesting just about every location possible in both the UK (not strictly London) and greater Boston, the gay sex, and the stuff on how to murder a person (There’s a case!lock fic in my future, too. It’s being outlined now. It’s the first story I’ve actually outlined before writing… My muse REALLY likes that I haven’t gotten any negative feedback yet.), I’m sure there’s a list somewhere and I’m on it.

I’d like to extend a huge thanks to the gay men who host websites that focus on how to write pr0n, the forensic scientists who tell the clueless how blood spatter works and how to identify what sort of bullets/knives leave specific wounds, and the rest of the specialists who have written how-tos on anything else you can think of.

Actually, I’d be remiss without thanking all my fellow fan fic writers on tumblr who keep pointing me in the “write” directions (I misspelled it so many times, I’m leaving it there.) with their endless reblobbing of these links and articles. So, thank you, tumblr folk!

I think I’ve stalled enough. It’s time to go figure out how to write the mechanics of sticking something somewhere stuff ain’t meant to be stuck AND keep it to a T-rating. I’m not writing full on, overly graphic PWP. As much as I don’t mind reading it, it’s not something I’m comfortable writing.

No matter how much research I do.

Sweatin’ like Michael Jackson at a Chuck E Cheese

(Does anyone know where the title of this entry came from? I’ll give you a cookie if you can tell me!)

That was one of the hardest phone screens I’ve ever done. It was hard to separate being a sports fan from working for the arena which has absolutely nothing to do with the teams.

In my favor, however, was my experience in pro hockey and working with the ownership of the Toledo Sports Arena. 

The job feels a little beneath me, and I’m sure I botched the interview. Plus, there are a shit ton of people vying for this job. (I’ll bet the majority want to work IN sports, not for the company that houses the teams’ battlegrounds. There’s a difference.)

One of my recruiters called me this morning and tried to talk me out of accepting the offer at the industry company. (I haven’t even gotten it yet!)

After that one-two punch, I’m feeling pretty unsettled.

I just want this to end.

As much as I don’t want to, I should probably go ruck for a bit. The clock is ticking and focusing on not dying during the challenge will keep my mind off my shitty job search.

*sigh*

Monday, June 10, 2013

Gonna do it

I can’t put it off any more… it’s time to start rucking with a fully loaded ruck. Four bricks, 3 litres of water, and a yoga block to keep the bricks in place. It is fucking heavy and if I don’t get used to doing some serious miles with it on, I will die in July. Die, I tell you!

I’ve been putting it off and putting it off because I HATE being on a treadmill. I don’t need to do it on a treadmill. I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, I’m home during the afternoon when the sun is shining bright… there is absolutely no reason I haven’t started yet.

Except for a stupid fear:

I’m afraid to go for a walk by myself - what if I go too far, get too tired and can’t make it back home?

I know, I know, I know.

Today’s big plan includes looking for a job, logging some serious time on the treadmill, going to the Apple store to fix my baby, and going to my work out.

No interviews today, but I have one tomorrow. It’s a second so there’s really nothing more I can do except show up. Besides, they don’t have a website or anything.

I hate this… I really hate this… and it’s been going on over a month.

*sigh*

Sunday, June 09, 2013

I’m in John Finnemore’s sandbox!

I’ve decided that my next foray into fan fiction would be “Cabin Pressure”.  The pilots like to play a lot of word games, and coming up with my own has been a right bitch.

I’ve decided to steal an idea from CP and have the pilots do cabin addresses using Stephen King’s works instead of Hitchcock’s.

Here’s the original:
DOUGLAS: Hello, my name is First Officer Douglas Richardson. On behalf of the captain and myself, a warm welcome aboard this MJN flight to Qikiqtarjuaq. Just to let you know, we will be flying out from Toronto today, roughly “North by Northwest,” at the “Vertigo”-inducing height of twenty thousand feet, way above “The Birds.” You will already have met your purser today, Carolyn “Rebecca” “Topaz,” but now, as “The Lady Vanishes” behind the “Torn Curtain” into the galley, the steward will hold you “Spellbound” with his “Notorious” demonstration of “The Thirty-Nine Steps” to a safe evacuation, though these basically boil down to three: pull the “Rope,” inflate the “Lifeboat,” and escape through the “Rear Window.” (Huge thanks to the folks at The Cabin Pressure Livejournal Community for posting the transcripts, including this one from Qikiqtarjuaq. In case you haven’t noticed, I have an unhealthy fascination with this episode.)

Here’s my attempt:
DOUGLAS: Good morning to our favourite passengers, Arthur ‘Cujo’ Shappey, and Ms. ‘Dolores Claiborne’. My name is First Officer Douglas Richardson, and I’ve just come off ‘The Night Shift’ where I flew over ‘The Green Mile’ with my co-pilot, your Captain and ‘The Apt Pupil’ himself, Martin Crieff. Today, our ‘Skeleton Crew’ will be flying in the direction of ‘The Shining’ sun en route to the lovely city of Gay Paris. Whilst in Paris, we will be parking the aeroplane ‘Under the Dome’ near ‘The Dark Tower’ of Orly Airport. As it is a daytime flight, we will unfortunately be landing at half noon instead of ‘Four Past Midnight’. I do hope the unending boredom of a cargo flight doesn’t create a sense of ‘Desperation’ and turn you into a ‘Firestarter’.

Dude, this shit is hard work, even with the characters handed to you on a silver platter. Plus, you know… the whole having to write English pilots as English pilots thing. At least I got some practice writing “It Was Always There”, and I can choose a UK English dictionary so my spelling isn’t completely atrocious. My Google searches have become ridiculous… For a country that started out speaking British English, we’ve gone ahead and made a fucking mess of it. (Of course, in changing my Mac to accept the UK dictionary as the default, I’ve managed to change the American pound (hashtag) symbol to the symbol for the British pound (currency) as well. *sigh* It’s not worth looking to see if I can fix it, but it is a bit annoying.)

HOWEVER, I am impressed as fuck with myself for not needing to look up any of Stephen King’s works to do that cabin address. So there’s that in my favor.

(My little Johnlock - while not breaking any hits/comments/kudos/favorites records - has received nothing but positive feedback. w00t!!!!! I don’t want to post the link here out of shyness/stupidity, but I suppose if you search fanfiction.net or AO3 for “wendellgee” you’ll stumble upon it.)

*And again… I don’t own “Cabin Pressure”. I just like playing in Mr. Finnemore’s sandbox and should he choose to steal my little Stephen King cabin address… well, let’s just say I’d be too busy jumping up and down shouting “BRILLIANT!” to hire a solicitor.*

Saturday, June 08, 2013

Intimidating boobs!

Oh my motherfucking dog…

I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. EVER. (And I have had some awesome times in my life.)

Nine hours round trip to spend four hours in a haunted castle.

But what an amazing four hours they were.

Annie’s bridal shower was today, and while I’m not into the whole bridal shower scene, I couldn’t miss this. I wouldn’t miss this.

Seriously, I love that girl sumptin’ fierce, and I am (STILL!) beyond humbled that she wanted me there.

Anyhoo, I sat at the troublemakers’ table with my friend Mike’s wife D (I finally met his wife! WOO!), C, Annie’s mom (L) and her friend DD. Holy crap. We were loud, rude, and generally crazy. Then we went outside and talked shit while we (well, they) smoked. Dog bless the smoke breaks.

I don’t even know where to start. 

Let’s start with the “Bad Word” game, since that’s where the intimidating boobs came from. (I’m SO naming my band that!)

We all got five clothespins to attach to our clothing and you had to surrender a clothespin every time you said a word on the list. (Wedding, dress/gown, Charlie, band, honeymoon, and something I’m blanking on now…) C, L and DD start attaching the clothespins to their shirts… well, I say attaching to their SHIRTS. DD decided a few of them were better off hiding in her cleavage or attached to her bra straps. The comment was made that people would be afraid to take the pins from the Chesty Morgans at the table because it would be so hard to take the pins off and not cop a feel.

Of course, I met Annie through the band, and when D tried to trip me up, I told her that I knew a guy who knew a guy who introduced me to Annie. Of course, that wasn’t good enough, so it became I met this guy in college who was part of a group of people who played instruments who played in a bar in Albany with Annie’s friends. Since we weren’t sure (and couldn’t ask at that point) if they were referring to BMS (the band) or a wedding band, I had to get really creative. REALLY creative… and everything I tried sounded worse.

So then, we were talking about the castle. My little brother got married at a castle and when I was trying to tell D that I called it their ‘heterosexual joining ceremony.’ I don’t know which one of us laughed harder.

AND THE INCENSE! I was trying to describe the smell inside of the castle and I was drawing a blank. It smelled churchy and not at all pot smoky. Yep. D, DD and I were in tears at my stupidity.

AND! AND! THE CRAZY WOMAN! I don’t know who she belonged to, but there was the most insane woman I’ve ever met (and that’s saying a lot) wandering around. She kept saying she wasn’t going to talk about a baby shower, or her 5 week old granddaughter, but that’s all she talked about. Then, she came around with PICTURES. PICTURES!!!

She’s telling us about how her granddaughter has a full head of hair, but her daughters didn’t and they were 32 now. C looks at her, straight faced, and says, “Oh, did your daughters’ hair ever grow in?” Then, when the woman passed her photos around, C grabbed her phone and handed it to the woman, telling her to look at HER baby. I’m not quite sure that the woman expected to see a dog, but she took it in stride. Meanwhile, the rest of us were just pissing ourselves. The next smoke break was taken as soon as we could get away from her, and the tears, man, I couldn’t get them to stop.

When it was time to leave, I wanted to pack DD up and take her home with me. She was a non-stop laugh riot. Especially when she was afraid to use the restroom in the haunted bar because she didn’t want a ghost to touch her butt while she peed.

I can’t WAIT for the wedding… chaos and anarchy and good friends… this girl couldn’t ask for anything more!