Can I, can I put it in your slot?

“Mmm,” she said, licking her lips. “Is that package for me?”

I don’t know how I survived this past week at work - or today, for that matter - but when that popped up in my FB memories… it made everything so much better.

It might have inspired some dirty Victurri fanfiction… not mine, though. We’ll have to see if PT and V actually do something with Yuuri and those little mailman shorts like they teased.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Bunnywest’s second book dropped at midnight.

If I stayed up for a book launch, is it really too much to expect me to wait until I woke up to dig in?

It was worth the lack of sleep.

Seriously.

It, too, deserves the very. good. lube.

- - - - - - - - - -

I’ve been a writer my entire life. From my earliest memories, I’ve always written some sort of fiction. We used to go on vacation to Maine and I would sit on the hotel balcony staring at the ocean and chewing a blue Bic pen. (Always blue.) Once the words came, it had to be college ruled paper. I didn’t care if it was a pad or a notebook. That wide ruled shit is ridiculous.

Of course, I have honed my skills and become the whole… package (*snickers*). I’ve taken Official Writing Classes. I’ve had peer reviews. I’ve had (master)beta readers.

I’m fucking published. (Stick that in your slot.)

All that to say, I hate when something unexpected slides in the back door.

(Oh my god. I am dying over here.)

I’m never going to claim to be a plotter. Nope. I’m a hardcore (I said hard) pantser.

Anyhoo.

In all seriousness, my little piece of het fiction just threw me a major curveball.

I thought it was the female lead’s story. Told by her, as unreliable a narrator as any out there today.

About falling in love with a sport that breaks your heart over and over again.

About falling in love with your best friend.

About having the happily ever after you really deserve but that only ever happens in fiction.

So… the whole package.

(Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.)

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

I’m reading it over, trying to figure out what comes next, and motherfuck.

Wait. That wasn’t my actual reaction.

Let’s try that again.

SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING DOUCHENOZZLE. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!? WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?!?

(Interrobangs are cool. HA! I said bang. (Bet you didn’t even know there was a word for ?!?) There’s also shebang (#!) and don’t ask me how I know these things.) 

Turns out that, despite the shifting POVs, it’s still her story… as told by the male lead.

That was… not… supposed to happen.

Oh, and the kicker?

She’s asexual. AND aromantic.

Because why the fuck not?

I didn’t realise how much I didn’t know about being aroace / acearo until I had to figure out how to write her.

I spend all this time thinking I have a general idea of what’s going to happen and then the characters just fuck shit up.

I feel like I’m taking dictation. (Ha! Dic…I’m reaching now, aren’t I?)

To quote my father, I don’t know what I don’t know until I know I don’t know it.

I’m learning that I don’t know a lot.

Like how to control characters so that they’re not ruining my grand romantic relationship.

Or engaging in statutory rape.

Or sending dirty texts to their dads.

Yeah. We won’t talk about Stiles’ accidental text to the Sheriff.

WHY CAN’T MY CHARACTERS BEHAVE?

- - - - - - - - - -

New expansion pack broke the Sims again.

I’m playing in a new save file because something happened to my favourite legacy file and the game crashes everytime I load into the game…

There’s a mod that I love that’s sort of working. The developer knows it’s throwing up an error and is working on it, but I’m not too concerned. The bit it’s breaking doesn’t matter to me.

And if I lose this save file? I have another one (my second favourite legacy) that’s sitting in time out until the dust settles.

OK. Enough stalling…

I have a horse to train and boys to screw in the stable. (Talk about a roll in the hay!)

Sometimes, 18+ Sims mods make the game so much better…

I do it by hand

The code in the back is beautiful. This? Not so much.

So…

I am certifiable.

If my needing a shrinky dink and being heavily medicated wasn’t enough, I’ve decided to code my new web project BY HAND.

All I can say is THANK FUCK I have a local webserver on my Mac, because goddamn this thing is UGLY.

(Can I make a yo’ mama joke or is it as dated as hand coding a website? I kid… but I can I? Cause this is as ugly as yo’ mama.)

(Whoops.)

For the record, you cannot use a stylesheet in your HTML if the code is written:

< .link rel="stylesheetsds" href="KR_css/styles.css". >

Ask me how long I beat my head against the desk wondering why one simple line of css wouldn’t work.

Go ahead. ASK ME.

The answer is: too fucking long.

Thank you, Sophie, for your very helpful addition to my code.

In all seriousness, I border the shit out of everything so I can tell what’s what when it’s not placing properly. It was a habit I got into back in the day and it’s actually served me well in the past.

But, of course, nothing works if your cat decides to help you with the code. Because cats can’t type (or spell) for shit.

Also, this site has been borked in Chrome since the migration. I couldn’t figure it out because it wasn’t happening anywhere but my Mac (from what I can tell…)

Took forever to find what was causing the error.

My site was secure and that security was blocking the browsers from displaying the css. I had to unprotect my site through my antivirus software and wasn’t that fun? Now I get all kinds of error messages that my site isn’t secure…

I can’t win…

Наша Батьківщина б’ється гордо

Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Наша Батьківщина б’ється гордо Ми не в пах, а в морду Наша Батьківщина за свободу Перегризе горло Наша Батьківщина тільки наша Не віддам нізащо Наша Батьківщина б’ється завше Збережи її, Отче Наший Ненька наша рідна, ти потерпи ше чу-чуть Наші Січові стрільці добре ворога січуть Око за око наші хлопці точно пики натовчуть Збройні сили України не дадуть задуть свічу Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Кулі дебіли полетіли, бо не мали права вони на слова Воля - це дівчина, шо любить дім, тільки руским би не дала Кулі дебіли полетіли, бо не мали права вони на слова Воля - це дівчина, шо любить дім, тільки руским би не дала Звідти, де волі люд не мали, звідти ті тихі голоси А звідки чорнила виливали, явно, що там не чистота Скільки вже наша пережила ненька, така ще молода Жовте осіннє плаття зняла, а камуфляжне - ти вбрала А на дев’ятий поверх упало не сонце Дивлюся на двір через нове віконце Ангел тут живе мій лише охоронцем, бо На дев’ятий поверх упало не сонце Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Скільки не стріляй в наш край Скільки не пали поля Житиме вічно наша ненька Вродить ще не раз земля Око за око, зуб за зуб Загризуть тут за тризуб Око за око, зуб за зуб Наші тихо підповзуть

No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once Our Motherland fights proudly We are not in the groin, but in the face Our Motherland is for freedom He will bite his throat Our Motherland is only ours I won’t give it away for anything Our Motherland is always fighting Save her, Our Father Our dear Nenka, you will suffer a lot Our Sich snipers cut the enemy well An eye for an eye, our guys will definitely crush spades The Armed Forces of Ukraine will not let the candle blow out No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once Bullets of morons flew because they had no right to speak Volya is a girl who loves home, but she wouldn’t give it to Russians Bullets of morons flew because they had no right to speak Volya is a girl who loves home, but she wouldn’t give it to Russians From there, where people had no free will, those quiet voices came from there And from where the ink was poured, it is clear that there is no cleanliness there How much our little girl has experienced, she is still young You took off the yellow autumn dress, and you put on the camouflage one And it was not the sun that fell on the ninth floor I look at the yard through a new window The angel lives here only as my guard, because The sun did not fall on the ninth floor No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once No matter how much you shoot at our land How many fields did not fall Our grandmother will live forever The earth will give birth more than once An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth They will bite the trident here An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth Ours will quietly creep up

Ти знайеш хто я???

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. - Nietzsche

I battle with monsters all. the. fucking. time.

Guess that explains a lot.

- - - - - - - - - -

So. That void kitty up there is Finn. He was supposed to be named Phineas after one of the characters in A Separate Peace by John Knowles. It’s one of my favourite books and one I don’t revisit nearly enough.

But. Somewhere along the line, he became a Finnegan.

I’m his person and I can’t tell you how healing that little asshole is. He’s amazing.

We also adopted another kitten, Sophie.

She’s not a void kitty. She’s actually white with some gray tabby colouring.

So. Night and day. Literally.

Even in their personalities… where he’s a total and complete extroverted asshole, she’s a shy lovebug.

I’m not sure why she’s so skittish still, but it is what it is. But like Apache, when she wants loving from you, she will NOT be denied.

I am also her person… when she lets me be.

They have made me indescribably happy. Maybe not enough to keep the worst of the depression away, but it’s something.

- - - - - - - - - -

Let’s see… what’s happened since Memorial Day-ish? Besides bringing home a little ray of sunshine and an asshole?

My email account either got spoofed or hacked… I’m not quite sure. All I know for sure is that I was getting like 100 bounce backs a day. Apparently, I have control of your computer and if you don’t pay me in a bazillion bitcoins, I’ll share that naughty stuff on your hard drive with the world.

To be completely honest, I have no idea what a bitcoin actually is and I can’t be bothered to find out why I would want some.

I went to my webhost and, instead of taking any action, they told me it was MY fault and then directed me to a bunch of knowledge base articles. Not a single bit of customer service to be found… I decided to take my business elsewhere.

Not a spur of the moment decision even though it looks like it. I’ve been having problems with them on and off for years, but I was too lazy to do anything about it.

So.

Last year, I hosted a test blog on HostGator, using WordPress. (insert vomiting emoji here…) I liked HG, hated WP, but decided to cancel the hosting after the one year term was up.

I decided to go back to HostGator and transfer my entire digital life to them. This blog and 7 domains.

Well, the domain transfers went relatively well until they didn’t.

Apparently, I hit some limit with the domain transfers, triggered some fraud alert, and they locked me out of my entire account.

Even better, the email that told me why wound up in spam. If I hadn’t been exporting important email messages, I would have never known.

I went through this whole thing with them:

How am I supposed to prove the domains are mine? No, I’m not sending you copies of my bank statements or my drivers license via an unsecured email… and we were at a stalemate. Finally, I sent them screen grabs of the bank’s app.

Still couldn’t get in.

Talked to support and showed them what I had sent. They told me they needed a PDF. Of a bunch of pictures. But whatever.

I showed it to the person I was chatting with and they told me it was OK so I sent it off.

Still locked out.

Chatted Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… all of them telling me that my information was still being reviewed and they would “escalate it”.

We’re at two weeks now. TWO WEEKS.

Finally, the person I talked to on Thursday told me the ticket had been closed. ON SATURDAY. The day I was told what I was submitting was OK.

I gave up and sent them a copy of my bank statement. Completely redacted except for three lines. (So really, what was the point? I could have faked the document by that point.)

And I finally got access to my shit again.

Just so I could transfer it to yet another web host.

After being with NameCheap for a billion years, I moved GA twice in the space of a few weeks. And the two email accounts I was keeping.

I do not recommend doing that.

So… I’m off of work today taking a much needed mental health day and decided to post this entry.

The website, this blog, my fucking baby, broke.

Borked beyond belief.

The guy at A2 was super helpful and told me I was his favourite support call because I was having a good time.

What else could I do? If I don’t laugh about this nightmare at this point, I’m just going to cry.

And honestly? I’ve been doing a lot of that lately and I am OVER IT.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hmm… what else happened?

VEGAS WON THE STANLEY CUP!
(doo dah doo dah)
VIN AND DOUG CAN KISS MY BUTT!
(oh the doo dah day)

This is especially heartwarming because the Cats made it into the finals for the first time in franchise history.

They also lost a really good player in the Vegas expansion draft because they wanted to trade away a shitty one… and I’m pretty sure at least one of those names will be engraved on Lord Stanley’s Cup.

As I told several people, the Cats shit all over my dreams. I really hoped Vegas would shit all over theirs.

I think at this point, I have earned the right to be that vindictive because I have been dealing with the emotional upheaval that team caused me for years now.

I’ve actually debated posting part of my termination notice and I’m still on the fence about that. (WHAT? THERE’S SOMETHING I WON’T TALK ABOUT?!?! Dude, I talk about dicks, I’ve written about my struggles keeping two of my fan fic characters from engaging in statutory rape, I’ve written - ad nauseum - about my mental health. Yeah. Not a lot of boundaries here…)

But anyway, the part that (still) kills me - the part I absolutely CANNOT get over - is where they said that there was a possibility that I would never get better and they couldn’t keep my position open for an undetermined length of time.

I’m fucking bipolar.

I was diagnosed when I was 26 - right after my father died.

I’ve been under a doctor’s care in one way, shape, or form due to that since then. So, I was what? 43 when they shitcanned me.

43 multiplied by the square root of cheese, divided by pi equals… hold on. I need to write a ridiculous excel formula to do that math.

Where was I?

Oh yeah… I’VE KNOWN ABOUT THE BIPOLAR AND HAVE BEEN UNDER TREATMENT FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS.

Seventeen.

Seventeen years of therapy on and off.

Seventeen years of altering my internal chemistry to adjust for the fact that my body cannot produce what it needs for me to be a fully functioning human.

Seventeen years of pretending to be a fully functioning human and (mostly) succeeding.

But. You know. I might never get better.

Like I have any control over my broken brain.

I’m about as good as I’m ever going to get… and that’s the part that I can’t shake.

So yeah…

THANK YOU, LAS VEGAS GOLDEN KNIGHTS!