Tour buses and tractor trailers

i love martin freeman’s partner

From time to time (especially now since hockey season is long gone), it’s easy to forget that I work in an arena.

Today, I could barely get into the parking lot because of all the trucks and tour buses.

I had to flash my staff ID at a security guard so I could get into the building.

FUCKING!!!!!! AWESOME!!!!!!

I have no idea who the bands are that are playing tonight, but I heard their sound checks. Oh, sorry, “line checks”. The data sheet from the producer was very clear that they weren’t doing sound checks. Dunno. They sound about the same to me. Anyhoo… The acts are classified as EDM (electronic dance music, whatever the fuck THAT is), so we can’t sell alcohol. This type of music brings out the “Molly” (or X for us old farts) users, so we keep them hydrated. Lots of water located around the arena and nothing else available. Fascinating.

On Friday, we’re playing host to “The Justin Bieber of Country Music”. His show starts early and there’s a pre-show meet and greet which means that early Friday afternoon (3-ish?), shit’s going to get CRAZY.

Teen aged girls running amok in my building. Being teen aged girls.

Fucking. Awesome.

Seriously though, I love my job like I can’t even put into words.

When I interviewed, I asked what the vacation time was like and I was told I get 365 vacation days… I seriously thought he was joking, but I love what I do and where I do it so much that every day is like a vacation day. No false advertising there!

——

I’m halfway through my Ukie lessons.

That’s both good and bad. I’m still struggling to learn what I feel are basic concepts (nouns, verbs, adjectives, pronouns) because they have different spellings determined by gender and case. It’s a hard language to learn, and as I’m fond of saying, the Cyrillic alphabet is adding a new level of complexity.

*sigh*

——

There’s a new all-age drum corps starting up this year. I was interested in joining it, but I cant be bothered to fill out the paperwork and send it in.

I guess that means that I’m not as interested in joining as I thought I’d be.

I’ve been thinking about starting up my work outs again, but I don’t want to pay for the trainer and I’m not going to the gym. (I’m too self-conscious and awkward to be comfortable at the gym.)

I’ve been thinking about starting fencing again, but I don’t want to compete, so what’s the point?

I looked into grad schools again.

I don’t know what I want right now…

All I know is that I’ve got a bad case of wanderlust and nowhere I really want to wander to.

*sigh*

Let’s talk about sex, baby!

THANK YOU!

So… it’s hiatus time and it’s time for the Sherlockians to lose their minds and over analyse every. fucking. thing. ever seen in the show, compare it to ACD canon, and things that Mofftiss have said on the record (even though we know they lie), and Dog knows what else.

Thankfully, we have very well written, researched, SANE commentary on the Johnlock relationship.

I haven’t written Johnlock in a while, and I very rarely read Sherlock fan fic of any varieties (too busy!), but I do love my Johnlock. And I love that I’m not the only one seeing this relationship between the two men…

It’s being PLACED there. We can all admit that, even though they can be colossal asswipes, Moftiss KNOWS what they’re doing.

And I am sick of all the No Homo bullshit they pull.

It’s about time that it’s being called out.

I fucking LOVE this fandom.

Thank you, Easter Bunny

interesting…

My belly is full of kielbasa and a edible attempt at a paska.

Draco and Harry have been left to do… whatever it was they were going to do with a stop sign, a kangaroo in a purple tutu, a Sharpie marker, two candles and a USB hub. In a crowded pub, in Muggle London, with an eighteen year old ginger, while watching Liverpool beat the pants off of Man U. (The Skippah has no idea that his stupid license plate has inspired Harry’s addition to football. And, hey! I get to learn more useless facts in the name of fan fic.)

I remembered just how much I absolutely DESPISE coding CSS. I found a different template. It’s more in line with what I want, but it’s only providing the bones because I’m absolute shit at floats and clears. Every single tag is more or less (more!) being rewritten if it doesn’t have any sort of location coding. New dimensions. New fonts. New colours. You name it. By the time I’m done, you’ll never know it was a stock template that came as part of a tutorial. Other than that, the site is coming along. I’m probably about halfway done with the heavy lifting on the back end. (Coding EE 2 templates isn’t that different from EE 1, thank Dog!) I have photos from Ukie Fest ‘09 at Suzy-Q to upload. I have an entry about baking the paska and finding a Polish butcher shop. I have a Twitter account that’s sort of branded. Planning on going live by the end of next weekend. I guess we’ll have to see.

Off to go slaughter the Ukrainian language! (I mean, do my homework.)

Meat. Ukrainian meat. Yum!

happy birthday, david ten-inch!

If you heard any sort of orgasmic sounding screams around 3 PM EST, that wasn’t me.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nopity, nope, nope, nope.

I did not find a Polish deli within an hour’s drive from my house.

I definitely did not find a Polish deli within an hour’s drive from my house that sells kielbasa and kobanos.

I definitely, definitely, DEFINITELY did NOT find a Polish deli within an hour’s drive of my house that sells kielbasa and kobanos that tastes EXACTLY like my beloved Baczynsky’s.

Nope.

——

Tomorrow’s project is to make a paska and do Ukrainian homework. I’ll probably work on UkieGirl, too… but homework has to be the priority. I feel like I’ve fallen behind even though I really haven’t.

I’m not brave enough to attempt pysanky this year, but I found my (wicked old) kit with the beeswax and stylus. I just don’t have any dye. I suppose I could try the store bought stuff, but I have a feeling that - because the way the eggshells are dyed - it may not work as well as ‘traditional’ pysanky dye. Eh, who knows…

The bread will be enough this year.

It’s taken me almost 40 years to really dig into what it means to be Ukrainian, so waiting another year won’t kill me.

——

The husband is at the Bruin’s playoff game tonight, watching from one of the suites. Lucky bastard.

I’m sitting on the couch, in the dark, watching horror flicks and writing slash.

It’s my equivalent of running around the house nekkid, I guess…

 

Set up house with quinoa, quinoa with with quinoa

accurate tag is accurate

So… I’ve had “Чорні очка” stuck in my head for what feels live 5eva. (Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.)

That’s this song, by the way.

I wanted to look up the lyrics to see if I’m understanding them correctly - and I will do a dictionary translation - but I had to see what Google Translate spit out.

And that shit is HILARIOUS.

The black point, black point as thorns
Black points as thorns, thorns like as thorns
When we be Take, Take?

Poberemsya, poberemsya Sunday,
Poberemsya Sunday, Sunday, Sunday,
I also hope to cha, hope.

There Will such come this Sunday
Will come this Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
What we will have a wedding, wedding.

Where are you mya, mya where did you lead,
Where are you mya lead, lead, lead,
How do you not have houses, do not you?

Lead cha, cha will lead into another,
Cha lead into another, into another, into another,
While his build, build.

Put the house, put the house on quinoa,
Set up house with quinoa, quinoa with with quinoa,
And someone else does not contend, not the Vedas.

Someone Else’s House, a strange house such
Someone Else’s House is such such such
As a mother in distress, distress.

How to avoid abuses as not abusing, the grumbling,
How to avoid abuses, it hums, it hums, it hums,
And yet it is not silent, silent.

I can’t wait to see what kind of luck I have with translating it!