Angry and Fabulous

Ganked from Facebook. All of the wankery with none of the tagging!

Literary Snobbery Questionnaire

1) What author do you own the most books by?
Here on my school bookshelves? Probably Terry Pratchett. At home? Hmm. Perhaps a toss-up between J.K. Rowling and K.A. Applegate (lol, initials). YES I STILL OWN ANIMORPHS BOOKS SHUT UP.

2) What book do you own the most copies of?
We have an awful lot of Sherlock Holmes at my house. And I think we have a few copies of Watership Down in varying stages of wear.

3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
...Well it didn't until you mentioned it. Bastards.

4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Sometimes I think I don't enjoy a book unless I fall in love with at least one character. Least embarrassing admissions? Probably Sam Vimes and Sherlock Holmes.

5) What book(s) have you read the most times in your life?
Toss-up between Harry Potter and Watership Down.

6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
I think that was when Animorphs started becoming popular. I devoured that shit.

7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
Eesh...I may have to dig into my school stuff, since I didn't do a whole lot of recreational reading in '08, but the book I read on workplace sexual harassment in the European Union (the title of which I misremember) was pretty dull.

8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Same disclaimer, but I think Philip Gourevitch's We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families deserves a mention. It is every bit as horrific as the title suggests.

9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
I'ma separate this into two categories: Most Important (and eye-opening) and All-Around Awesome Book. For Most Important, I would force everyone to read the book I mentioned in the above question (which is about the Rwanda genocide), and/or Iris Chang's The Rape of Nanking. Emotionally exhausting to read, but the stories must be told. For All-Around Awesome Book, I would make everyone read Watership Down. You will read it and you will like it, you uncultured hick.

10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
...There's a Nobel Prize for Literature? *Shot dead*

11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
First, I'm going to respectfully disagree with the original responder, who said The Giver. The fact that Jonas sees the world literally in black and white is more jarring in text, because you don't realize it until it is explicitly mentioned. Also, I'd be interested to see what a filmmaker would do with Larry Niven's Ringworld, even if I disliked all the pretentious scientific wankery and unnecessary interspecies erotica.

12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
 Watership Down as done by modern CG. (I've yet to see the existing animated one.) It would be marketed as a cute funny bunny movie and have fart jokes in it and I would be forced to shoot someone.

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
*Blinks* Well, I suppose you could describe my dreams as being vaguely Kafka-esque.

14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
Any and all books on serial killers that I have devoured like so much fucking fudge cake. I have a problem.

15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Jane Eyre was pretty painful. Also, I wanted to hurl Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried against a wall.

16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
....Um. Next!

17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
The Russians are pretty hardcore, so I guess they'd be the man of the hour. Admittedly I've not read any French authors that I can think of off the top of my head.

18) Roth or Updike?
Never read anything by either.

19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
I've had the most exposure to David Sedaris, so I guess that'd be my default response, although I'm a little confused as to why we're comparing him to Dave Eggers and not Dave Eggers to Augusten Burroughs.

20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Real answer: Shakespeare because he's the only one I've read. Fake answer: Chaucer because Paul Bettany played him in A Knight's Tale. Which means that he also got naked. You have not lived unless and until you have seen Naked Paul Bettany.

21) Hemingway or Fitzgerald?
I've not read any Hemingway, but from what I hear Fitzgerald kicks the crap out of him any day of the week. The Great Gatsby may have had horrible characters, but the writing was badass.

21) Austen or Eliot?
Jane Austen needs to lay off the purple prose. Actually, the same could be said of the entire Victorian period. Srsly guise, take it down a notch. That said, I've not read any Eliot.

22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
This entire year. Goddamn.

23) What is your favorite Hemingway novel?
I think Justin should answer this question for me because his response would be infinitely more entertaining.

24) What is your favorite novel?
Watership Down. To Kill a Mockingbird is a close second.

24) Play?
My Fair Lady is the best play with the worst ending (SRSLY. GODDAMN WOMAN HAVE YOU NO SPINE.)

25) Poem?
Poetry is lamers. That said, Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allen Poe are pretty badass.

26) Essay?
Anything by David Sedaris, particularly when they're narrated by him. He has the most distinctive, expressive voice I've ever heard.

27) Short story?
Jamaica Kincaid's "Girl" is short and sweet and says a lot. And Stephen King's "1408" made me crap my pants. "Everything's Eventual," from that same collection (it's also the title of the work), is pretty freaky too.

28) Work of nonfiction?
The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. Very compelling and reads like a novel. Also: CREEPY.

29) Who is your favorite writer?
I don't think anyone could beat the comedic styling of Terry Pratchett. Bill Bryson is also good for nonfiction stuff.

30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Stephenie Meyer. She never took a writing class and it shows. She writes like I did when I was a freshman in high school. Self-insert Mary Sue characters and long flowery descriptions do not a good book make. Christopher Paolini is up there too. Dude, I don't care how young you were when your book first came out, it's still crap. You borrowed elements from every single fantasy story ever, and while this can be done well, with you it just reads like plagiarism. J.K. Rowling did it first and did it better. Also, Terry Pratchett was published at SIXTEEN, and I'll bet you anything his book could kick your book's ass.

So, ran some errands today (read: shopped like a teenager...in my defense, though, I did need tampons, and my spring jacket's falling apart), and since it was such a nice day, I decided to walk to the Midway Target. I got there only to remember that its selection sucks and fails, so I decided to hoof it back to Snelling and catch the 84 to the Har Mar Target down the road. And at the bus stop on Snelling and University, something...uh...interesting happened.

I'm standing across the sidewalk from the bus shelter and two Latino kids (teenagers? I dunno), a guy and a girl. A man stalks down the sidewalk, rather stiffly, toward the bus stop, and I flatten myself against the wall of the building behind me (as it's a rather narrow sidewalk), so the guy can pass me. He does, and stops in front of the Latino boy, who (through no fault of his own) is in his way.

He glares at Latino boy and barks "EXCUSE ME, I'm TRYING to get THROUGH." Like, angrily. I wish I could duplicate his tone here, because it really did come out of fucking nowhere.

Latino boy, clearly bewildered, steps aside and lets the man pass. We stare at him in silence, wondering what the hell just happened. Anger Management steps into a nearby liquor store for a moment, and we exchange "what the fuck was THAT all about?" comments.

Just as we're starting to mind our own business again, Anger Management leaves the store, with a case of beer in his hand. I'm thinking "uh oh, here he comes." Sure enough, he stalks back up to Latino boy (who's in his way again), and glares at him.

"EXCUSE me, I'm TRYING to get THROUGH." He barks again, this time a bit more forcefully.

"You know, you could just fuckin' walk around me," Latino boy says as he acquiesces to Anger Management's demand. (No, I am not quoting Pirates of the Caribbean and saying "acquiesce to his request," because this was NOT a request.)

"You kids are all a bunch of little shits," Anger Management growls, then walks away grumbling under his breath. I thought I heard the word "spic" at one point, but I wouldn't swear to it.

"Yeah, tell that to your mama...vo madre.*" Latino boy says. Anger Management continues to grumble, and is on his (not so) merry way. Again, we exchange bemused comments, after which the bus comes.

Now that I've written this down it doesn't sound that bad, but being there was awkward as hell. I figure there has to be some sort of reason behind this, like an addiction or mental/social disability of some sort. I'm sure if I knew what exactly Anger Management's circumstances were, I'd probably feel sorry for him. But still...just bizarre.

Also, as mean as this may sound, this may or may not have become my and my roommates' next running joke. >_>

Mmkay, time to do something productive.

Q

*Plz to be correcting my Spanish if it is incorrect, kthnxbai.

So, Kohikki has requested that I post a poem I'm writing for my Creative Writing class (so Maggie, you'll be seeing this tomorrow). I was aiming for slightly unsettling, and it went from that to really fucking disturbing in like two minutes.

I have a problem.

Anyway, here goes:

Possession

Ellen Watson 

Tonight, my darling, you will be mine
And I will be yours
I will make you happy
And I will be happy. 

Tonight, my darling, we will dance
I in my best suit
And you in that red dress
The one that wasn’t red before.

Tonight, my darling, you are the world to me
And I am the world to you
And nothing can separate us
Nothing can break us. 

Your hair is matted and clumped
Your skin is scratched and dirty
Your nails are cracked and broken
Your clothes are wrinkled and stained. 

I will wash you, my darling
I will clean you, fix you
Your hands limp and pale,
Your eyes closed in peaceful rest. 

You were so unwholesome, my darling
So very unwholesome
You spoke out of turn
You tried to escape the inevitable 

But you were lovely all the same, my darling.
I will miss your voice, your tears
Your warmth, and your life.
I will miss them all. 

Such a pity, really. 

You were so beautiful in your agony.

Mmkay, I think I'm gonna go make an appointment with that psychiatrist now. Or like, cry myself to sleep. Whichever happens first.

Q

So, my computer has a virus. Spyware Protect 2009, to be exact, which is a fake anti-spyware program. Last night, while I was looking up ways to get rid of this thing, my computer just fucking STOPPED. I'd say that it froze, but freezing implies that you can use ctrl-alt-del to unfreeze it, and even that wasn't working. So this morning I decided that before I even started the thing up, I would take it to the IT helpdesk to see if they could do anything about it, because I really did not want to deal with this shit on my own. They took it, but now this means I probably won't have my computer back until around Monday. Thus, I am currently computerless. While I don't like that I have to wait for so long, being without a computer may actually allow me to get other stuff done, like class reading. I'll be home on Saturday night, so I'll probably mooch off the family desktop, but I also plan on running errands and doing stuff that doesn't require a computer. So if you don't see me online for the next few days, that's why.

I know there are ways I could have dealt with this on my own. But to be honest, this might actually be better for me; I spend way too much time on the internet as it is, so this might help me find ways to separate myself from it for awhile.

Still, though...get well soon, computer!

Q

EDIT: So, about an hour after I wrote this entry, I got a call from the helpdesk saying they'd fixed my computer. I brought it back and the situation has improved (I had a few popups, but avast came up and was like "yeah, you want me to get rid of those for you?" and after awhile they stopped completely). However, the computer's still not one hundred percent: my internet is somewhat slow, and some pages won't load at all (like the boards). This leads me to believe that the virus isn't completely gone, and I might bring it back in on Monday, or get some extended help before then. So, it's better, but the system is quite weakened, I think. I'm not brave enough to get on AIM just yet, and I'm definitely going to hold off on downloading anything (hell, that probably won't happen for another week or so until I know for sure the threat is gone), but I'll keep in touch. And I'll still do things that require less computer usage.

And here I was all prepared to go computerless. XD

Meme tiem!

Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.

Justin listed these:

1. Fire

You know, I don't actually know about this one. Actually, no, I lied, I do. My Threat Du Jour for a time was "bitch, I'll burn your house down." (Now it's "bitch, I know where you sleep," but that's neither here nor there.) I also tend to use "die in a fire" or "kill it with fire" a lot. I don't know why I always use fire imagery when I'm being violent; maybe it's because it's one of my fears. I'm pretty terrified of fire. I get paranoid just cooking something on the stove--I nearly had a heart attack when Danny poured oil into a hot pan. I also get massively creeped out whenever I pass by burned-down buildings, or burning cars. (I'm totally fine with campfires, though...not sure why that is.) At the same time, though, I admire it. Pyrokinesis is probably one of the coolest superpowers there is. This is one of the reasons I like Ace from One Piece so much; I would LOVE to have his ability. (He's also smokin' hot, but we won't get into that). Also: poi-dancing. It's sexy shit.

2. Corpses

This one's hardly surprising. I've worked with human remains before, and I make no secret of it. I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this has probably heard me blathering about osteology in some way, shape, or form. Thing is, though, I mostly work with bones. I've not yet had the experience of being elbow-deep in maggots, or anything dramatic like that. And the truth is, while I can handle bones, or soft tissue ON bones, soft tissue by itself squicks me out a bit. Fresher bodies, to me, are more disturbing than the ones that hardly look human anymore. With fresher bodies, you get the uncomfortable realization that you could've passed the person on the street just a few hours ago. I do get curious about my skeletal cases, though: about what they looked like, where or how they lived, what they were like, etc. It's fun to think about.

3. Hair

Ha!

That is all I have to say about that.

4. Anime

I suppose this is hardly surprising. I talk about it quite a bit, and, indeed, I wouldn't have some of my friends if I hadn't gotten into it (or rather, hadn't gotten my mom into it, but that's a whole 'nother story). My favorite series right now are One Piece and Monster, though I do also have a soft spot for Bleach, Furuba, and Ouran High School Host Club. A couple I've sort of just gotten into are Baccano! and Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, as well as Mushishi. What's funny is that I tend to gravitate more towards the shounen/seinen, whereas my (male) roommate goes for the shoujo.

5. Silliness/Naughtiness

NO U.

Aight betches, gimme some comments.

Q

Goosebumps!

It's a fun exhibit. Surprisingly small, given that it has quite a bit of stuff in it, but it's got a lot of hands-on stuff, and makes for some entertaining moments with visitors.

The first part of the exhibit is called the Challenge Course. There are four separate rooms, each with a different type of fear. The first is called Fear of Animals, and in it are cages with animals most people consider creepy and/or frightening: a corn snake, a tarantula, and two giant African millipedes. There are tubes "connecting" the cages with black boxes below each cage, and the idea is that you stick your hand in and feel whether or not one of those animals has crawled into the box. Of course, the tubes don't actually go anywhere, and even if they did, I don't think any of the animals would be adventurous enough to try them out, since they're cold and dark and scary.  Even so, almost no one sticks their hand in without freaking out.

The second room is Fear of Electric Shock. You place your finger on two electrodes, press a button, and wait for a mild shock. It doesn't hurt--it's rather like getting shocked by a doorknob--but the anticipation is part of the fear. A lot of visitors don't actually do this one right: they put their finger on the electrodes, press the button, then when the shock doesn't come right away they assume it's not working and pull their finger out. WAIT, people. You're supposed to WAIT. It even says that in the instructions.

The third room is Fear of Loud Noises. You sit in front of a high-speed camera, press a button, and wait until you hear, well, a loud noise (which sounds a bit like a gunshot or a door slamming). The camera then records your reaction and plays it back to you, so you get to see yourself freaking out. Lots of fun is had with this one.

The fourth room is Fear of Falling. This is where the gallery supervisor comes into play. In this room there's a device that allows you to fall. We strap you in, push a button, and you fall backward onto an air cushion. Then we release you, press another button that sets the thing back up, and let someone else on. Lather, rinse, repeat. This exhibit also records your reaction while you fall, that you can watch later. The thing about this machine is that it really does look like a torture device. It's big and confining and has straps on it. And since we don't want you flailing around and punching us while you fall, we restrain your arms as well as the rest of you. It's a bit of a mad scientist gig that I enjoy very much.

So, considering all this, interactions with visitors are often pretty entertaining.

The first such entertainment was a group of six little boys, all between the ages of about 7-10. All of them were thoroughly fascinated with the Fear of Loud Noises room; one of the gems I overheard while running Fear of Falling was "Let's do Fear of Loud Noises! I wanna get hurt!" (We can't ACTUALLY hurt you, ya weirdos.) And every time they did the noises activity--EVERY time--they would shriek and jump around upon hearing the bang, and then laugh hysterically at the resulting antics on camera. I never saw what exactly they were doing, but according to a coworker, it was pretty hilarious to watch them.

They also loved the Shadow Game. It's a part of the exhibit where you try to escape a hungry leopard. Your shadow appears on a screen in different shades: if it's black, the leopard doesn't see you. When the leopard looks in your direction, you freeze. If your shadow turns into an outline, it means the leopard has you in its sights, but doesn't actually see you. If your shadow turns red, then the leopard sees you, where it then leaps on you and kills you. The idea is that many animals freeze in the wild so that predators won't see them. The boys, however, played a different way. Whenever the leopard saw them, they would freeze for MAYBE a second, then when they moved (which they inevitably did...they're little boys, after all) and their shadows turned red, they would dive to the floor so that their shadows would disappear from the screen. When I told them that they'd probably get better results by, y'know, STANDING STILL for more than five seconds, they groaned and said "but it's more FUN this way!"

Our second set of winners was a group of older teenage boys, maybe 16-18. These were macho, tough-guy types who were all "hurr, I'm not scared of anything." Then they reached the Fear of Animals room, took a glimpse at what was in there, and went "OMG I'M NOT GOING IN THERE, THERE'S A SPIDER." They too loved the Fear of Loud Noises room, though their goal was to be as stony-faced as possible when the bang went off. Fear of Falling was pretty fun too. After falling you can rate how scared you felt on a monitor next to the machine (on a scale of 1-7, 7 being most scared). Most of them rated their fear as being around a 2, and upon leaving they'd be all "I WASN'T SCARED." I had to fight the urge to tell them that the look on their face while they were falling said otherwise.

Based on these data, I have reached this conclusion: boys are silly.

Q

DEAR PINKEYE AND PINKEYE CURE: YOU ARE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF MY "SHIT DOES NOT TOUCH MY EYES, EVER" LAW I HATE YOU GO DIE.

Whatever. At least I don't have class today.

Fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck.

Q

Last night I dreamed that my boyfriend was related (somewhat tangentially) to Sarah Palin. And she and her family had nothing but disdain for me. It didn't matter what I said; every time I spoke they would look at me as though I was dog shit, or something. It even got to the point where her husband physically threw me out of a store just because I said something he disagreed with. Pissed me right the fuck off, and I was all prepared to write a dear_stupid letter about them, something along the lines of "dear my boyfriend's family, stop treating me like shit." But then I woke up and realized that he wasn't actually related to Sarah Palin. Which I suppose was a relief, though I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to write the dear_stupid letter.

Also, I dreamed I was eating something rough and crunchy. When I woke up, I realized that I was chewing my own tongue. It had gotten so dry during the night that it was scaly and gritty, and it created the "rough" texture of the food I was eating in my dream. That was a little gross.

Also gross is this weather. I know that people are happy because it's warming up and the snow's melting, but frankly I preferred it when it was 20 below. I hate the gray sky, I hate the standing water in the walkways, I hate the cold, and I hate the rain. As much as I dislike winter, I dislike the transition between it and spring even more. And I kind of liked winning the "whose state is colder?" bragging contests I'd have among my chat friends. February is such a shit month.

I'm still sick, too, which makes everything worse. I'm not feverish anymore, I'm mostly just a snot faucet and I sound like a boy going through puberty. I always thought colds were stupid and pointless; they don't make you sick enough to stay home (I've very rarely missed class because of one), but they affect you just enough to be annoying. You're leaking nasty shit out of your nose and mouth (and it doesn't help that said nasty shit is BRIGHT GREEN), and it gets in the way of everything. I always feel gross in class because my nose is running and I keep having to blow my nose (or at least keep a tissue plastered to my face) so that I don't dribble onto my notebook. The classroom we're in for Creative Writing isn't helping: it's cramped and there isn't easy garbage can access. So I can't just get up and stand over the garbage whenever I need to blow my nose. Fucking irritating.

Oh, and speaking of Creative Writing, can I just go on record to say how much I fucking hate poetry? Every single poem we read in class was utterly gag-inducing and completely self-serving (except maybe the one about the dude finding a dead deer...that was pretty badass). In the time we spent talking about them, most of it was devoted to bitching about how utterly worthless they were as poems. I just don't have the patience for most poetry; there are certainly exceptions (Luke Schirmer's stuff is typically pretty fun to read), but honestly if you were to give me a choice between reading the best book of poetry in the world and a mediocre work of prose, I'd probably choose the prose. I guess I just like the stuff I read to make sense; poetry tends to go against this grain.

Buh. It'd be nice if this were my only class today, but I also have Mark Berkson's Death and Dying class at 6:30. I thought I'd told myself that I'd never take a single evening class ever again, but here I am. Though I loved the email he gave us explaining where the classroom was (it's in the anthro lab). He told us to "look for the skeletons (appropriate companions for our course, aren't they?)".

And now, it's time for me to do something productive. Like nap.

Q

WARNING: this entry may or may not contain talk of boobies. Just sayin'.

So, buying bras is making me a little bit sad now, if just because it appears I have gone up a size.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "but Q/Ellen/Pubis/Wally! Wouldn't that mean your boobies have gotten bigger, thus ensuring that you have achieved a goal you've held since the seventh grade?"

And you WOULD think that, because you would, in fact, be correct in your assumption that I have longed for a good set of jugs.

However, this is not the case. You see, my friends, I have not gone up a CUP size. I remain, and probably will forever remain, an A. No, my growth lies with the BAND size (the number on a bra size, for the uninitiated). What this means is that while I've gained weight, I haven't gained any of it...not a single goddamned ounce...in my boobs. Which annoys me a bit. Goddamn it, if I'm going to gain weight, I at least want the benefits that come with it. But noooooo. It appears that nature will not be so charitable.

Of course, this wouldn't have been all that bad had I not found out the hard way...that is, by buying a bunch of 34A's (my previous size) and finding out upon returning home that none of them fit. Thus, I went back to Target to return them. All of them had been on the clearance rack, so they were cheap, and I had the receipt, so the exchange wasn't gonna be an issue. But......the dude at the customer service desk was...well...a dude.

I hesitated for a few minutes, thinking "craaaaaap, why me?" and trying to decide what to do. I usually see chicks at that desk, but now, when I most needed them, they weren't there. Typical, I thought. Finally, I scolded myself for being such a petty wuss, sucked it up, and went to the counter. I figured that since he was an employee, he would be professional about it, and if he wasn't I could just report his ass to the manager. And he was; he acted the same way you would if you were exchanging, say, a teakettle, and everything went fine. That didn't stop me from wanting to sink into a hole in the floor, however. And it didn't help that the security camera monitor was right in front of me, so I got to watch myself make a fuss over lingerie on a big screen.

Once I actually got to the bra-hunting, though, I found something interesting: cross-hatch bras. That is, bras with the straps crossed in the back. Now, the first time I saw them, I thought "oh, there's no way I have anything that would even remotely go with these things." Straps crossed in the back, I thought, meant that they would be clearly visible and conspicuous and I would thus look the harlot. I decided to try one on anyway, just for kicks, and on my way to the dressing room, I passed a rack full of tank tops. With, I discovered, cross-hatch backs. It also occurred to me that they looked like just a few of the ones I myself owned.

Interesting, I thought. Could it be that these bras were designed with just such a garment in mind?

To test this, I grabbed one of the tank tops and headed to the dressing room. I tried on the other bras I'd gotten, then the cross-hatch one, and put the tank top on over it. And, lo and behold, the bra straps disappeared. Completely. It was like magic! The bra may have been a struggle to put on, but it had a purpose!

Upon leaving the dressing room, I dumped one of the regular bras, then went and found another cross-hatch. I also bought one of the regular ones with the assumption that they would still have a use too, then went to the checkout. I also bought the tank top. It was cute, after all.

And with that, I leave you with thoughts of boobies and lingerie. Have fun, kids.

Q

Barack? Honey?

You should be damn glad you are BARACK FUCKIN' OBAMA and not George W. Bush, otherwise folks would be crucifying you for that little flub during the oath.

SILLY PRESIDENT.

Oh well. At least you're a halfway decent speaker. Can't say the same for Dubya.

Q

We just had a little bit of excitement here today. I'm sitting here typing, I hear a shrill, high-pitched noise, and I freeze. Is that our smoke alarm? It couldn't be, we aren't cooking anything. And at any rate, it doesn't sound like the smoke alarm usually does. So I go out to investigate. I get to the door and I smell smoke.

Oh dear. Now that simply won't do. 

So I just sort of stand there for a second, thinking "now what?" Clearly, something needs to happen, and with a certain amount of urgency. Probably not as much urgency as would be required of a smaller building on fire, but there should probably be action on my part. But I couldn't, for the life of me, think of what.

Then, of course, that small little part of my brain that probably would've been used to hunt mammoth or run away from sabre-toothed tigers back in the day rears its rarely-used head and shouts "GET OUT, DUMBASS."

Oh. Well. Right you are, then.

So I figure we'll be outside for awhile, what with there needing to be firefighters and safety and security and whatnot, and plan accordingly. I put on socks and shoes, grab my coat, think briefly about getting a sweater but decide against it, get my keys, and leave. As I stand at the door, locking it, I think "oh shit, I forgot my cellphone, I could've called Danny and let him know" (he was out at the time). But then my alligator-brain, which has been helping me remember my basic, grade-school fire safety (I even do the thing where I test the doorknob to see if it's cool enough to handle), reminds me bluntly that I should probably worry about my own safety first.

Why I was able to think about these things (which were perfectly practical) but not "GET OUT OF THE GODDAMN BUILDING," I have no idea, but there you go.

As it turns out, my neighbors down the hall had been baking polymer clay in their oven (which they'd done before), and it had started smoking. It must've been quite a lot of smoke, as I've heard of people (ourselves included) having pretty smoky ordeals of their own and never having it escalate past their own personal smoke alarms. In his panic, the guy who started the alarm ended up going outside without a jacket and/or shoes (note that it was maybe 6 degrees at the time, if that). One of the firefighters ended up tossing him a jacket, though by that time there wasn't that much left to be done. I went to Osborn's study lounge, walked around the building a bit, then by the time I got back it was all over. I figure the firefighters gave them a lecture of some sort, then went on their merry way.

Yay, things! And now, back to your regularly scheduled tedium.

Q

Dear men walking on the other side of the street who accosted me as I was walking home from the bus stop,

So...you two told me that you were missionaries. Okay. Fine. In other circumstances, I might be slightly annoyed by your presence, but tonight I was actually kind of glad that that was all you turned out to be. Because, see, here were the circumstances in which you chose to approach me:

1. I was a lone female
2. You outnumbered me two to one
3. It was nighttime
4. The street was poorly lit
5. You were both dressed in black
6. One of you was carrying what looked suspiciously like a baseball bat

WAY TO FUCKING GO, GUYS. THAT DOESN'T SEND THE WRONG SIGNALS AT ALL.

Seriously. What were you thinking? I know you probably didn't intend to make me into a nervous little ball of adrenaline, but fuck, man. Shit HAPPENS to women who walk alone at night. Women KNOW this. And they get very defensive very quickly when you give them the slightest inkling that you mean them harm, even if you actually don't. As I was walking away from you, I seriously expected you to bash me over the head and carry me off with you. I don't care if if you think it's an irrational fear, it's just a reality.

Hopefully sobering you up from your preachin' high,
Q

Other than those creepers, nothing too exciting about work. Except that it was cold. Very, very cold.

Speaking of cold, I went ice fishing with Dirk and his family the other week. That was...interesting. It's sort of like being a 911 operator. There's about twenty minutes of complete boredom, and two minutes of chaos whenever you catch a fish. I caught quite a few, though I'm fairly certain two of them were actually just the same fish (which was too small, so I threw it back both times), because apparently that fish was a dumbfuck and wanted to get caught.

Also, I looked around seventy pounds heavier than I actually am because of all the gear I was wearing. Most of it was borrowed from Dirk's mum, because I don't really do that much in the way of winter sports. Since it was around 4 degrees, our line kept freezing until we got the shelter put up and the heater going. But I caught things! And ate them! I felt like kind of a badass. All in all, the whole deal was fun, but...don't ask me to do it again. Not 'till next year, anyway.

All righty, it's time for me to shower and get my gear ready for tomorrow. I will be the sexiest eskimo you ever did see. Tru dat.

Q

This cross-exam for our Forensic Anthro presentation is going to tear me a new asshole. That's ME, specifically; my other group members are going to be fine.

And the damn thing is only worth 25 points.

Q

So, my Thanksgiving was...interesting. I know that word used in that fashion typically means it sucked and I'm too polite to say it, but I actually had a lot of fun. But it was interesting in that I haven't really experienced anything like it. I'm used to having real low-key Thanksgivings with just the four (or five) of us at home. This year, though, we went to Indiana (Pennsylvania) to visit Leland's (Anna's fiance's) family. And I swear to god, it was like something straight out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. His family's HUGE, and Italian, and therefore very sociable and family-oriented. So when Leland said that there weren't going to be very many people at Thanksgiving this year...well, let's say the perspectives differed. As it turns out, "not very many people" in Leland's language means something like 30-40 (whereas usually they have around 50-60). It was about 38 people in a tiny little two-bedroom house eating lots and lots of food. It was nuts. And there was SO MUCH FOOD, OMG. Eating was a big, big deal...we had like, a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving, with pierogies and kielbasa. Eating was pretty much a continuous process...you'd have your hors d'oeuvres, and then your main meal, and then the chips and dip, and then dessert, and then the whole process would start over again. Again, nuts. Leland's mother Phyllis spent a lot of time trying to feed us...she would come in, ask us if we wanted tea or coffee or anything, then come back about ten minutes later and ask us again. It was really rather wonderful. That said, though, my stomach didn't want to cooperate. I had like, really bad gas or something like that, so my stomach was constantly hurting, and I felt really bad for not being able to eat as much as I wanted. But if anyone was offended by how little I ate, they didn't show it. That and I ate as much as I could without feeling ill.

After the Thanksgiving blowout, we took a walk to burn off the calories (which really helped my stomach), and exchanged presents and napped and shit. Then Friday, we went out. In their family, the day after Thanksgiving, all the men go out shooting clay pigeons on a bit of farm property they own, and the women who aren't Christmas shopping go out and make pottery at a studio (lol, irony). I used a potting wheel for the first time, and IT IS HARD, YO. Seriously, I'd be struggling to even make the clay behave, and then our instructor would come over and be all OH HERE LET ME HELP YOU, and within like two seconds he'd make a perfect cylinder, and I'd be sitting there like OMG HOW'D YOU DO THAT. It was really rather disgusting. Despite all that, I (with lots of help from the instructor) managed to make two pieces: a lopsided vase, and a fairly decent coffee mug. So they should be firing and glazing those for us soon.

Today we're heading back, so we drove a lot, and now we're in a hotel in Illinois. And I've thought of something that should be made illegal: gas stations without bathrooms. Seriously, I don't even see how that's allowed. Their basic philosophy seems to be HEAVEN FORFEND YOU SHOULD HAVE TO PEE WHILE YOU'RE OUT AND ABOUT. My mom's policy is that if there is no public bathroom, we find another gas station. No filling up at places that won't even accomodate a basic human need. But now we have dined and found a place with free wi-fi, so there you go.

And now, I am tired and I want to get in my pajamas, because my bra is getting pokey and my sweater is getting itchy and hot. Toodles!

Q

Stolen borrowed from Justy's place.

If you saw ME in a police car, what would you think I got arrested for? Answer me, then post to your own journal and see how many crimes you get accused of.

I am not an attention whore. Also, I am not salted pork. You decide which is more correct.

So, been working CSI for a few weeks...and holy fuck do I ever sympathize with teachers now. For the Theater position, at the beginning of the exhibit, I let folks in, explain to them what they'll be doing, then play an introductory video. And there are two main things that bug me. One is when people take the bench in the back corner, instead of one of the other ten in the middle. Now, I would understand it if people sat there because they had absolutely nowhere else to sit, but no, this happens when there are like ten people in the group (we let in around thirty at a time). People just make a beeline for that bench without even LOOKING at the other benches. This is annoying for two reasons: A) it's the bench that's meant for ME to sit on so that I don't have to stand around like an idiot while the video's playing, and B) when people sit back there, it typically means they don't intend to pay attention to my spiel. This brings me to the second thing that bugs me: when people do not listen to me. When you go through the exhibit, you only focus on ONE crime scene, and you stay with that crime scene throughout the entire thing. These crime scenes are all color-coded, as well, and the sheets and clipboards that you get before you enter the exhibit are specific to one crime scene. I explain all this, in great detail (even pointing out who goes where) and yet I STILL get people who are like "so...does it matter which one I go to?" or "am I supposed to go to all three?"

ARGH. DID YOU LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD I SAID??

Another thing that bugs me is when fairly sizeable groups (groups of fifteen or so people) aren't willing to split up. That typically means that a bunch of people are crowded into one crime scene while the others are nearly empty. For Christ's sake, people, we wouldn't ask you to separate if we didn't have a damn good reason. Besides, you'd really only be separated for like five minutes; it's not like the rest of your group is going to magically vanish in that amount of time. Another thing is that nine times out of ten, one member of such a group will have an ENORMOUS FUCKING STROLLER. Those things are annoying in the first place, but when space is limited, they become a liability. And often the strollers will be there for kids who DON'T EVEN NEED IT. As in, they'll be running around all over the place. So basically, it's a menace on wheels that's blocking doorways and generally disrupting everyone else. Christ on a bike. I hate strollers.

Other than all that, though, things are going well. I'm fairly constantly busy, which is good, because otherwise I'd be falling asleep standing or generally not paying attention. And now that the VA's at the exit actually have something to do (restocking clipboards), and DON'T have to stop people from reentering the exhibit (holy HELL am I ever glad we don't have to enforce that), that position isn't tedious and diminutive anymore.

Also, I get to be a complete nerd.

And that's always a good thing.

Anyway, I should probably like, do some homework. And try and get rid of this headache.

Q

Soo...some good and some bad happening here in the good ol' US of A.

The good: Obama and his kickass acceptance speech. I'll admit it, I cried. When he got to the "yes we can" part near the end, I started bawling.

Also, Obama's crowd A) being so diverse and B) not being sore winners. Applauding for the opposing candidate is polite, after all.

A couple of the amendments and measures voted on were pretty good too. Like the "no" on Prop. 4 (well, results still pending, but that's what it's looking like). And Michigan allowing stem cell research. And South Dakota's "no" on abortion limits. There were some others, but those are the ones I honed in on.

So...peachy. This election made history, and it was the first presidential election I've voted in, so that's pretty damn badass. Also, /b/'s "O/b/ama: your new supreme overlord" banner was kind of amazing.

The bad: Minnesota needing a goddamn recount for Senate. And even though it's close, it's looking like Norm Coleman's pulling ahead. What the hell, people.

Another thing: Michelle Bachmann. Who fails at life. And now at least in part represents us. THANKS, MINNESOTA.

More bad: ALL of the amendments banning and/or limiting gay marriage or gay adoption, particularly Proposition 8. Bigger rant coming, so here goes...

I just don't understand why this whole thing is even open for debate. Honestly, when I first heard about gay marriage, I truly did not see what the problem was. Gays should be able to get married. Period. And now it's come to this...this abomination. And it is absolutely mindboggling.

The thing about the gay marriage debate is that it rests almost EXCLUSIVELY on religion. And this is what I do not understand. How does a movement that seeks to ban what should be a basic human right on RELIGIOUS GROUNDS have ANY place in the Constitution? Why has it even gone this far? All that should EVER have to be said about gay marriage is that it should be allowed based on the fact that CHURCH AND STATE ARE SEPARATE. What people don't seem to understand is that there IS no controversy here. Anyone who says that gays should legally not be allowed to marry is empirically wrong. And yet, for reasons that are beyond comprehension, this utter bullshit continues. What right do these bigoted fucks have to dictate who other people should marry and why? What right does the government have in pandering to said bigoted fucks? What right does ANYONE have in judging what goes on between two or more consenting adults behind closed doors? The sheer NERVE of these people is astounding.

This waste of legislation is the most blatant violation of human rights I've ever seen in this country. And it's got to be stopped. Knowing how kindly the GLBT community takes to these sorts of things, and knowing how expansive California's GLBT population is, I highly doubt this law will last very long. Which is good, because it really has no place anywhere in the US Government. But still, the fact that the majority of people voted "yes" on it--hell, the fact that it was even considered worthy of being put on paper--is ludicrous.

So, for anyone out there who voted "yes" on 8...grow up. Now.

Q

So some of you have probably noticed that I have not been online these past few days. That is because I have been with my boyfriend hitokiridirk, who came down to visit. Since it was Fall "Break" (put in quotations because honestly, Hamline, a "break" =/= a three-day weekend), we futzed around the cities for awhile. On Wednesday me and Stephy drove up and kidnapped picked him up from Onamia and brought him down to the apartment, where he met Danny and Justy and went with us on one of our uber-exciting shopping trips. On Thursday we went and saw his friend Amy, who goes to St. Thomas. This basically involved us walking up and down Grand Ave., which was mostly closed (including our intended destination, the Tea Garden). So we ended up going to Davanni's, where I had the saltiest tuna melt ever, and where me and Amy talked about yaoi. (Also, I probably have another convert to Monster, which is always a plus in my book.)

On Friday, we basically ran errands all day. I went and picked up my pills, and then we went to see Dirk's aunt, who's a chiropractor. I'd never been to a chiropractor before, and it sure is different than the types of massages I'm used to. The part that feels good isn't the actual adjustment (it actually hurts like hell), but the feeling you get afterward. (By the way, Dirk, care to shed some light on why she has you fill your lungs before doing the actual back-cracky stuff? I have a few guesses, but I don't know if any of them are correct.) Then we had lunch and went to Rosedale, picking up Danny along the way. We went to Ragstock, where I bought two completely awesome cardigans and a set of scrubs for a Halloween costume (because I'm a copout like that). Dirk added onto his costume by buying cheesy pirate supplies. He had cosplayed Shanks (see icon, my favorite character from One Piece) for me during KakkoiCon, and now he's making the costume into a more generic pirate costume. Because cheesy pirate costumes are awesome and cheesy, even if they're not Shanks.

Saturday and Sunday were days I had work, and on Saturday Dirk apparently went out and futzed around St. Paul (including visiting me at work), but we also had the issue of his not being able to get back to the apartment, as he didn't have a key. It was also cold, so he was stranded not only outside the apartment, but outside in the elements, as well. And all of that just to visit me for a few minutes. Poor guy. So when I got home on Saturday we stayed in and watched Heroes. On Sunday he got to see me in the bone lab, where we tried to figure out the age of our individual (besides "really, really young"...seriously, if this dude had any more unfused epiphyses I would've called shenanigans on the whole "adult" designation).

All in all, it was a fun weekend, and I'm glad we could spend the time together. We hardly get to see each other, being so far apart and having little transport options (neither of us drive). And many thanks, of course, to Stephy for volunteering to drive for us.

Next time he visits, though? I'm buying a fucking queen-sized blow-up mattress. Because sharing that dinky little dorm bed was AGONY. Oh well. At least he kept me warm all night.

In other news, it looks like I'm going to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving...and since my parents are leaving before I am, I'll be flying by myself for the first time in my life. It's a little bit unnerving, because airports confuse the hell out of me and I don't fly very often in the first place, but my dad, being the itinerant soul that he is, wrote up a list of instructions for me, and I found that a lot of it was stuff I was comfortable with already. Of course, he has me arriving at the airport at 11, when my flight leaves at 12:15, and even I know that it's better to be earlier than that. I plan to be there by 10, although since I'm taking the bus, I'll probably be even earlier than that. And that's okay; I don't care how long I have to wait at the gate, the sooner I'm there, the better.

Okay, I should probably do some homework.

Q

So...bleh. My possessions suck right now. Here, for your amusement, is the list of things I would like to obtain somehow in the future, when I have teh moneyz and/or lovely people to give them to me.

I need:

-One (1) new spring/fall jacket. Reason: Current one is falling apart and the peeling off bits of leather are really really scratchy on the back of my neck. Also, I want to not own a Wal-Mart jacket anymore, 'cuz, ew.

-One (1) new winter coat. Reason: Current one is a joke (I'm wearing it NOW, when it's 40-50 degrees, and I'm STILL cold) and is missing a button. Also, too large.

-One (1) pair of new glasses. Reason: Current ones look like they're about to fall apart any second now. They're about five years old and plastic, which means that they are therefore brittle, according to the nice lady at Lenscrafters. Though I still feel smug because my brother has had his glasses for like five months and his lenses have twice as many scratches as mine do (and he had to get the frames fixed because he wrestled with his friend Joe, who is A MARINE). So suck it, Tyler. Suck it.

-One (1) new computer. Reason: This one makes me want to KICK PUPPIES. Seriously, just about every little annoyance I have with any sort of internet site or program is a problem on MY end, and not theirs (YouTube has not had sound for about a week). It has 23 gigs of hard drive space, about 21 of which I've filled, which makes it incredibly sluggish, and means I have to delete pretty much everything new I get. Also...IT HAS A CRACK IN IT. I do not kid.

-One (1) pair of new headphones. Reason: Old good ones broke, and I am now using HALF of a pair of earbuds. The right one is completely busted (and by that I mean "dangling by one thin copper wire"), which means I only hear my music through one ear. Strangely enough, I've gotten used to this. Still ghetto as hell, though.

So there you go. Muh life, it is falling apart at the seams. Like, literally. D:

In other news, I am convinced that I am the biggest scaredy-cat ever. Case in point: a couple days ago I was making my way down the hall of our apartment toward the kitchen in order to wash a dish. There was light coming from my room, so I could see a little bit of the hallway, but the rest of it was shrouded in complete darkness. So, as I'm walking, I suddenly hear Justin's voice, out of UTTER FUCKING NOWHERE, saying something like "Um, Ellen? I'm right in front of you."

Nearly shat my damn pants. Swear to God.

Anyway.

CSI started today! My first shift is Saturday! I'm super nervous, because I only have the vaguest understanding of what I'll actually be doing! Hooray! Seriously, this exhibit is fucking nuts. People thought Star Wars was complex, and all you did there was stand in line, get your ticket scanned, then go in and fuck around. This time, you stand in line, then you get split up into thirty people every seven minutes and wait in a secondary line just in front of the entrance. Then you are given a clipboard and a piece of paper that is either green, blue, or red. Then you go in and listen to me explain what you'll actually be doing and watch an introductory video. Then you'll go to the one "crime scene" that matches the color sheet you have on your clipboard. You'll only go to that one crime scene, and you only have four minutes to look around. Then you go to "Lab 1" and analyze a few items of evidence. Then you'll go to "Lab 2" and analyze yet more evidence. Then you'll go to "Grissom's office" and report your findings. Grissom will tell you one of three things: A) Good job; B) Close but no cigar; or C) You suck. Then you'll either go back to the lab and repeat the analysis (you can go back to the labs however many times you want, you just can't go back to the crime scene), or leave the exhibit and go on your merry way.

Phew. At least there's no extra ticket charge. So then when people say shit like "I PAID A MILLION GAZILLION BUCKS TO SEE THIS THING, I'M ENTITLED, BLAH BLAH BLAH" I can just be like "NO YOU DIDN'T AND NO YOU AREN'T, SUCKFACE."

And now, it is time for bed.

Q

Dear advocates calling me "on the behalf of John McCain,"

YOU ARE CALLING ME. WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME. STOP CALLING ME. I'LL KILL YOU ALL.

At least you're live operators, which means that the next time I get a call from one of you people, I can at least say "please do not call me ever again, ever," and actually talk to a real human being, instead of a robot recording.

But come on guys. Why would you think I'd consider voting for John McCain? Why would you think I'd change my mind because of a simple phone call? Why would you think this is a good idea? I don't care WHAT John McCain going to do for the economy, I don't want to hear it.

Oh, and by the way, THIS GOES FOR OBAMA SUPPORTERS TOO. I haven't gotten calls from any of you people yet, but DON'T START. DON'T CALL ME. DON'T DO IT. EVER.

Please don't make me beg.

Imploring from the depths of my very soul,
Q

Dear John McCain,

...As if I didn't ALREADY have a damn good excuse for not voting for you (*cough*SarahPalinmakesmewanttopunchbabies*cough*), now you've just made my resolve even stronger. Your own followers have made sure that you NEVER get my vote. EVER.

Just sayin',
Q