Happy birthday, Martin Freeman!

a little inspiration for the new johnlock fic…

How fitting is it that Martin Fucking Freeman is 42 today? FORTY TWO!

(And - again - if you don’t understand the significance, get the fuck off my blog and stop calling yourself my friend. Seriously.)

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I put the Cabin Pressure fan fic aside, because all it’s doing is pissing me off.

I was itching to write today, so I started writing the new Johnlock one I’ve had on the back burner.

It’s kind of cathartic writing a good ol’, pissed off, John Watson. Martin Freeman swears so much in real life, that a cussing John Watson - one that, at times, seems to have only the word ‘fuck’ (and variants thereof) in his vocabulary - has become canon. It was pretty fun to write John Watson with the censor off.

I didn’t mean to write this, but it just kind of slipped out: There had been a case where John and Lestrade had been arrested for solicitation. Mycroft had stepped in, made sure the charges and everything else, except for Greg’s school girl outfit, went away. Mystrade and cross dressing… two things I never thought I’d put in my Johnlock fics. I think there’s something seriously wrong with me. I’m definitely keeping it, though. It does need some polishing, but that will come in time.

(OMMFG! Spell check wanted to change Lestrade to straddle. NAUGHTY SPELL CHECK!)

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I used my UK iTunes account today (which I am no doubt going to get busted for, eventually) to purchase the Cumberbatch movie “Wreckers” among other Cumberbatchian goodies, like a reading of “Jabberwocky” and the UK version of his episode of “Top Gear”. Can I just say that the £10 gift card someone AWESOME sent me disappeared way too quickly? It did. I’m down to 53p or something stupid like that.

Anyhoo - I just finished watching “Wreckers” and wow… that movie wrecked me.(HA!)

I… just… can’t. It’s not particularly good, and there isn’t enough Cumberbatch in it, but the ending shook me. I hate when that happens. Guaranteed I dream about it tonight.

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I started to move the contents of my FOUR backup hard drives (and six thumb drives) to a newer, much larger, hard drive. (I swear to Dog, if I run out of room on this one, I’m going to pitch a hissy fit. However, I should probably point out that two of them are tiny little drives, one is full of photos and music and the other is a backup of three computers and the other big backup drive. The thumb drives I can’t explain. I think they fuck like bunnies when I’m not looking. Last I knew, I had exactly three: a SIMS plumbob, one I got at the GTD summit, and one with a friend’s pictures from BOSCON. However, I found six… SIX!)

I had a pretty good scare the other day when I couldn’t access the drive that had my iTunes library and Lightroom backups on it. Thankfully, it was just unplugged, but it made me realize (again) that there’s a lot of my life that’s been digitized and I don’t want to lose it. I was also thinking about how much room I take up by doing certain things I should probably never admit to. (I’ve given up being a web design dork to engage in other, more colourful aspects of the web. My inner fangirl has taken certain things and run with them. I’ve learned things I never thought I’d want to learn…)

At any rate, I’ve got a completely ridiculous, completely paranoid, back up plan.

It makes me feel better.

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Speaking of feeling better, after 10 years, we are finally replacing our mattress. It’s been a long time coming, but those things are freaking expensive, and I haven’t wanted to spend the money on it. (That’s our London fund!!!!) However, it’s gotten to the point where I wake up in pain every morning.

We had a blast shopping for a new mattress. More fun than any two people should have, that’s for sure. (And no… there was none of THAT going on. I was just manic. I’m FUN when I’m manic.)

If I’d known it was going to be that much fun, I wouldn’t have put it off for as long as we did.

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This entry had a point, at one point, but I’ll be dipped if I can remember what I was going to write about…

Oh well…

Head canon confirmed…

top!/dom!sherlock fan fic writers just *squeed* with delight

While I stall, and stall, and stall some more… here’s random notes I found on my iPhone:

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B: Maybe she doesn’t swallow?
V: NO! I DO!
B: Aren’t you glad I don’t blog?

Two words: Bubble. Tea.

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I would kill a midget for a shoehorn

I have no fucking idea where this came from…

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B: Your shit and my shit are having a menage-a-trios. It smelled good, and then it smelled like shit, and then it smelled like shit again.
D: So our shits double teamed the good smell?

Note to self: never share a hotel room with three boys..

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He handed her the beer, a curious look in his eyes. She hesitated for a moment, afraid. Would it taste like him? Would the feel of his fingers brushing hers as he handed it to her send chills down her spine? Was it a test of her resolve or a question of whether or not she trusted him?

In the end, she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t drink.” She was safe - safe from what, she didn’t know exactly, but she was safe.

I remember writing that… maybe I should take that and run with it?

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The stages of grief include being pissed beyond belief, sad, loopy, and David Tennant. Well, I’m experiencing them out of order because the stages of grief aren’t a straight line from point A to point B… It’s more like a big ball of wibbly, wobbly, griefy, wiefy, stuff.

Conversation had during a weekend in Boston right after I got laid off from SG

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Just a spoonful of sugar helps the boys go down… on each other… I’m going to hell for this.

I wish I could claim ownership of that. However, it’s not mine, and I didn’t note which fan fic author wrote it.

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A rabbit of negative euphoria. Not a happy bunny.

One of my favorite Cabin Pressure lines from “Johannesburg”

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“Dear God,” Carolyn gasped focussing her attention back on Douglas. “This could be as bad as that time we went to New York and had to blindfold him for the entire drive down Fifth Avenue so that he didn’t give himself an aneurism trying to keep track of all the yellow cabs.”

From a Cabin Pressure fan fic… I didn’t note the author.

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I do come in pocket size. With your choice of personalities: “Barely acceptable for public outings” and “HOLY CRAP! I can’t take you ANYWHERE!” 6-8 weeks shipping, so place your order now in time for Christmas delivery.

After a dear friend said, “Random thought… the people you’re lucky enough to have in your life that calm your nerves and make you laugh need to come in pocket size so you can carry them with you.”

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...This was meant to be a cuddle fic focused on Sherlock’s voice. Apparently, Sherlock’s voice got shoved unceremoniously to the background by the cuddle. And then out of nowhere a roving brace of warm fuzzies came and elbowed both cuddle and voice aside. Dictation. If you ask me, that’s all a fic writer is ever doing. Taking damned dictation from the voices. Shhh, you can just barely hear them. The Voices. - AtlinMerrick, Johnlock fic author

I LOVE AM’s stuff. Even the author’s notes. Also! Dictation! Someone else feels the way I do about writing!

Call me “Indy”

the bride and groom

I’m still trying to work out what it felt like to go to a wedding on our anniversary and to watch the newly married couple dance with their respective parents…

All. The. Epic. Feels

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the cutest couple in the history of forever.

(And I totally need to figure out how to steal Colin’s brother’s hat again. I looked damn good in that fedora.)

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In other news,

I had a thought for a scene in my Cabin Pressure fan fic so I went back into the early, early, EARLY drafts and found what I was looking for.

Rereading that stuff made me want to shift the timeline. AGAIN.

So, now I’m back to the drawing board, trying to make things make sense with the addition of shit I removed for what must have been a good idea.

This must be why smart authors storyboard and do character sketches and shit.

I am not a smart author.

A man and his guitar

we’ve come a long way since he called me a groupie

I’m still not ready to blog about Annie’s wedding, but this is probably my favorite picture from the entire night…

I love all of my Albany family, but I may have a special spot in my heart for those that sang the Indiana Jones theme song every time they saw me in a stolen fedora.

Where are the sneers and jeers that you bravely let us hear?

Too lazy (tired) to get the pics from the wedding off my camera and the title of this entry has nothing to do with the day. (Black Mountain Symphony does a KICK ASS cover of “Come Out, Ye Black and Tans” and I’ve had that stuck in my head all day.)

I have a lot to say about yesterday, and I will, eventually…

I have to do a quick brain dump in my paper journal (if I can find the damn thing…), and process it first before I can post it publicly. Because…

There were feels.

Epic.

Feels.

In the meantime, THE. WEDDING. WAS. FUCKING. AWESOME.

I couldn’t think of a better way to spend our eleventh anniversary than watching Annie and Charlie get hitched.