You know you watch too much TV when…

twelve jammy dodgers… and a fez!

I had no idea I’d ever become THAT emotionally involved in a cooking show, but I’m sitting here crying at the finale of MasterChef UK.

I’m also starting to really get into Aston Martins. (Damn you, Top Gear!) I didn’t think I was really into cars - other than my beloved BMW 3 series - but I’m starting to really care about what May, Hamster and Jezza have to say about cars. I’m even getting less upset every time they insult Americans, the States, and Hammond. *grin*

It’s so bad, that every time they give a price in pounds, I’m doing the conversion to USD.

The sad thing is, I’m not really WATCHING the shows. I’m barely listening to them while I focus on my job search or fan fic.

I really think that I need to quit looking at local companies and focus 100% on companies with UK offices.

I guess I am really supposed to be in the UK during this phase of my life.

The magic question is how the fuck do I do that?!?

Now is not the time, nor the place, jerk.

a glow in the dark bunny! named bluebell!

No walk today, but I don’t mind. Time to let the feet rest.

I stopped at Hannaford today to get some groceries - to get some of those meal bar things so I can get something in my belly during the challenge and some stuff for the worst blister. I was already tired and cranky because of… stuff, but I figured it would keep me out of the house for a little bit. Even cranky, I wanted some human contact.

What a bad idea.

I’m wearing my “We are Newtown” t-shirt because it felt like that kind of day. I was thinking about… stuff… and decided I would wear it to remind myself of… stuff… and to honor the dead.

The fact that I am wearing a t-shirt that brings to mind a terrible event that spurred yet another conversation about gun control does NOT mean it’s acceptable to bring up gun control in conversation with a total stranger.

I don’t really have a position on gun control, and I think I’ve said that before. That doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion about guns themselves.

And let me tell you, my opinion was the polar opposite of idiot person’s.

I made it clear I was uncomfortable. I made it clear this was not an appropriate discussion. I made it clear my friend’s kid was SHOT and DIED that day.

The fucking moron persisted. I’m pretty sure everyone within earshot was as uncomfortable as I was. Somebody on the Hannaford staff actually apologized.

I was so tempted to grab the grocery divider stick thing and beat them to a bloody pulp. (Did I mention I was tired and cranky?)

A shortened version of this is my status on FB right now, and it led one of my friends to comment that grocery stick divider things should be banned, too.

I think he’s right…

Blisters and rucking

i can’t wait for the freakin’ dvd to come out

My feeeeeeeeet hurt.

Apparently, I can grow blisters by just thinking about them.

Did another three miles today with my new friend. The rucksack, despite all the time I’ve taken getting used to it, feels really heavy. Maybe it’s the knowledge that it weighs 30 pounds and I’m thinking about how much that is with every step. Oh well. Three miles is three miles and it’s three miles more than I would have done on my own with or without the ruck.

Whatever. The GORUCK site says if you can run a 5K or do a Tough Mudder/Spartan/Warrior, etc. you should be able to handle the Light. I can almost do a 5K. It’s 3-ish miles and if I can walk it, I can jog it. The legs aren’t the issue. My legs have always been good at embracing the suck. Even with all my knee issues, I’ve always been able to count on my legs.

And it’s not a race, so that sort of endurance doesn’t matter.

But my arms.

My ARMS are a different story. They are probably (definitely?) my weakest link.

And that’s what scares me about the Challenge.

But. But. But. BUT!

I keep thinking the Challenge is this Saturday, but it turns out I actually have another week to stress over this.

Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

——

I wonder if this is how Douglas Adams felt when he was writing the The Hitchhiker’s Trilogy…

(For those not in the know - SHAME ON YOU - the trilogy actually spans five books.)

My Cabin Pressure fan fic was meant to be a trilogy: Martin’s bit, Douglas’ bit and the required happy ending. I am now at four parts because the happy ending required an epilogue. Or, to be exact, Arthur required a bit and he became the last ‘chapter’ of the trilogy which forced the happy ending out an extra chapter. It’s OK, though, because Arthur is BRILLIANT and my take on him is actually a lot of fun to write, even if he is a little out of character. A lot out of character. It’s not like the fic’s canon compliant any way.

I’m just going to be happy with the fact that it’s not crack, not PWP, and still lemon-free.

Long overdue, yet it feels too early to share.

When we first met, you were my everything. (Well, I say “everything”… We were in Jr. High. “Everything” was not much and too much all rolled into one confusing teenage hormonal package.)

On some level, even back then, we knew the other was broken, and we figured out a way to make it work and keep our distance all at the same.

It’s weird to see the past twenty-something, nearly thirty, years broken down into such a simple sentence.

But it’s true, isn’t it?

Our entire shared existence has been nothing but figuring out how to make it work and keep our distance all at the same time. I’m not going to spell it out for you. You were there. You know what happened.

The dance we’ve danced our entire lives… I have it memorized: the steps written on my heart, in my soul, in a language only the two of us know.

You’ve broken and put my heart back together so many times that I should hate you. I should stay away from you.

And God knows, I’ve tried.

Yet, you refuse to give up. To go away.

Yet, I refuse to give up. To stay away.

The last time you broke my heart should have been the last time. How many last chances can you give someone?

Too many?

Not enough?

But here we are…

Dancing our dance, like nothing’s happened.

Commence dying.

could matt smith be any cuter? (will he grow into those ears?)

Two miles on the beach today.

5K this afternoon with my gym buddy.

Five-ish miles all together. All with 30 pounds of good livin’ attached to my back.

The verdict is: I think I’m going to die.

And, dude, that’s just WALKING. Never mind the fact that I haven’t done a single push up, flutter kick, bear crawl, etc. with the pack on. OR carrying a log. OR carrying the team weight…

I’ll be revising my will this week. If you want anything, let me know.

——

I got another positive review on my Johnlock fic! That’s a whole whopping three people who have said kind things, and zero who have been shitheads.

Of course, I’m just dying to be a shithead. I was reading what could have been a beautiful piece of fic and the author used the phrase “would of/could of” CONSISTENTLY. I thought I was going to jump through my phone and strangle the author. I see some offers to proofread/beta in my future. I don’t want to read beautiful fan fic that’s ruined because the author doesn’t know how to write. Most people who write in English when it’s not their first language will make a comment, or it’s very obvious. There’s nothing about this person that would lead me to assume that English is a second language… and that just makes me sad.

OK. Off to thank the review writer…