I’m in John Finnemore’s sandbox!

CABINLOCK!

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.*

Intimidating boobs!

Sorry, boys! I’m *so* changeable!

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!

I love Kim Rhodes. Like REALLY love her. Part 2

Stolen from Kim Rhodes, cuz she’s brilliant.

For one child who is considering suicide:

Sweetheart, I am so sorry you hurt. I would so like to hold you and rock you and kiss the top of your head and tell you there are voices so much stronger than theirs that you can choose to hear. That the world is so much bigger than their tiny minds. That you will be okay. Don’t go.

I am forty-four years old today. I am a rape victim, a sufferer of bullying, the adult child of an alcoholic, an orphan thanks to one parent who blew his brains out last year and one who died due to his drunken idiocy, a chronic pain sufferer, an addict as a result, the mother of an autistic child, unemployed with zero opportunities on the horizon, I’ve lost my home, my waistline and my ego. And ya know what? I am happy as hell.

I was playing cards with one of my best friends on the planet the other night. We have held each other’s hands through life and death, laughing through tears and making inopportune masturbation or Tarot card references for over twenty-five years. We were both not okay last year, as we walk remarkably similar paths. The other night we were discussing how actually okay we were, in light of everything we had gone through. We weren’t sure how we GOT to “okay”, but we were there and could appreciate it.

In the past, I have not been able to take care of myself. I either waited for someone to do it for me, or I waited until I was so damaged and enraged that I could explode in a ball of fury, annihilating everything in my path, so that I would feel safe again. This, for the record, was not okay. I didn’t really get that, in any moment, I had the power to affect my own life and, well, not to quote at you, but to “change what I can.” I was a victim, a martyr, a rager, a stoic, an actor…. any one of which I thought could make people do what I thought I needed them to do to make me feel okay. Unfortunately, this meant that any cruelty, intended or not, cut me to the core. If someone didn’t react the way I thought I needed, I was destroyed. I was pretty fucking miserable.

My people walk twelve steps, over and over. The first one is admitting I am powerless over alcohol. The work of this step expands and teaches me I’m actually powerless over pretty much everything, which is shocking when you’ve been raised to believe you are God. (If everything is my fault, it must all be my doing. If only God does everything, I must be God. That’s some solid logic, I tell ya!) When I confronted the fact that I might not be the Highest Power, it felt like I was giving something up. My machinations and manipulations I believed made the world dance on strings were hard to cut, as imaginary as they were. I lost my identity. Who was I if not the person trying desperately to make the reflection in your eyes something I could stand?

However the transition into being Me… I have no clue how it happened. I just know I quit worrying about who I was to everyone else. I quit trying to read your mind to find out who you wanted me to be and then molding myself into that shape to receive the approval that would make me feel loved but somehow never really did, since it wasn’t really me being loved. My friend and I agreed that a year ago even, we were sitting in the tunnel, PRAYING for a train so at least we could see some light. Now we’re breathing air and wishing on stars.

The only thing we knew for sure is that we didn’t quit. Now we are here.

It’s not the perfect I thought perfect was. But it’s perfect and I’m IN it. And because I came out of that place, I know it and I know I can come out again. So….

Whatever your pain, whatever you see in the mirror, whatever heartache you know, whatever name you’ve been called, whatever anger is eating you, I’m telling you, you can take power away from it and give it back to yourself again. It will happen if you don’t quit. There is no other option.

I wish my father hadn’t killed himself. I am so grateful I did not make the same choice.

Please stay here. It’s worth it. YOU are worth it.

Vworp! Vworp!

the best part is this entire show is on crack

Superwholockian post! Feel free to skip it!

SUPERNATURAL: Watching a marathon today… for a show that started out being about family (and it still is), it’s taken us some weird ass places. Seriously. You can’t mention this show on tumblr without someone saying ‘the best part of this entire show is that it’s on crack.’ Or something similar. Kripke is a known troll and some of the episodes have proven to be more creative than you would ever expect a show about two demon hunting brothers to be. (If you’re going to watch just three, check out The French Mistake, Changing Channels, and Swan Song. Make sure you have kleenex for Swan Song.) And honestly, even with all the weirdness, each episode manages to join forces with previously aired episodes in order to move the mythology of the show forward.

And coincidentally, the prophet Chuck says, “It’s not jumping the shark if you never come back down.”

Even if you take away my SPN family, I’m still going to love the show solely because it has lines like “Lucifer, you’re my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”

Yep. The show’s on crack.

DOCTOR WHO: My interview today got cancelled, due to a mix up on their end. They caught me on the way there and since it was near a Target, I ended up going shopping. (Why waste a trip out that way, right? It’s not like I didn’t need some stuff.) As I’m making my merry way through Target, my phone starts “VWORP"ing. I pick it up to look at the caller ID and end up flashing my TARDIS phone case. As I’m talking to the person on the other end, this kid walks by and gives me a thumbs up. If I hadn’t been scheduling another interview, I would have asked him who he wanted for Twelve.

SHERLOCK: Rumor has it that series 3 will premier on October 31st.  Benedork Cutiepatch went on VH1 and mentioned that they’re talking to WGBH (PBS) so that it airs the same time here as it does in the UK.  The BBC does it with Doctor Who, although that’s a little different because they own BBC America, and they don’t own PBS. The Whovians are very kind to those of us across the pond when it comes to not spoiling the episodes because they know it’s just a few hours. With Sherlock, the difference in air dates could be MONTHS, so this is a big deal. Especially because this is the series when we learn how Sherlock returns from the dead and whether or not John marries Mary (NO!). It will be impossible to avoid spoilers. Beyond impossible.

Whether or not we get our way, I do have an ace up my sleeve in the form of a very nice resident of Belgium who has given me access to her VPN so I can watch BBC shows from the U.S. as they air over there. And if for some reason that doesn’t work, I have the good people of tumblr who will livestream the episode. This is just a thought, and I don’t know if it’s realistic, but it might be possible to buy the episodes from the UK iTunes store before they air here. (I’m not against paying the ridiculous exchange rate if I have to…)

And that concludes my fangirling…

Like father, like daughter?

at least they have a sense of humor…

Job interview today for a cost accountant position.

Dad was a cost accountant. I want to be a cost accountant.

I know.

It’s weird, huh? Especially when he told me NOT to become an accountant.

Movin’ on because I don’t want to make myself cry…

It’s hard to find entry level cost jobs that will pay me what I need.

Actually, that’s a lie.

Right now it’s fucking IMPOSSIBLE to find an entry level cost job… so I’ve lucked out big time.

I’ve pushed aside my morning of job searching to research the hell out of this company, so it better pay off.

I need it to pay off.

Out of the five interviews that have been scheduled, here’s the new breakdown:

1) That company in the industry - 2nd interview (good hours, good dress code, room for growth, fun bosses)
2) Widget makers - passed on 2nd
3) Hotel - waiting to hear (great title, decent hours, suits, no room for growth)
4) Retirement place - waiting to hear (suits, room for growth, fun boss)
5) Cost job - today…

——

In other news, while not spreading like wildfire, there’s been a lot of decent interest in response to my little Johnlock fic. I wonder if I’m turning people off because it’s neither fluff nor slash?

There have to be others like me out there who like their bromance with a side of non-fluffy cuddles.

Right?