ah, the smell of feminist fury
My latest review (of Jean Plaidy's Daughter of Satan) is a satisfying and outraged takedown of a book I really wanted to like, but which unfortunately left me wanting to stab things. This icon is PERFECT, actually.
I am full of the warm glow that comes when you are very close to having actually checked ALL THE LITTLE BOXES on your evening's to-do list; I am three pages of otolaryngology study and a few paragraphs of fic away from having done everything I told myself I would do, which is, let's face it, a vanishingly rare occurence.
Other things I am full of include desperate woe that the second season of The Good Wife is not yet available on DVD, because I need more Alicia and Kalinda and Diane (and some of the men, I suppose) in my life right the hell now. SHOW <3 What with it and Damages, legal dramas are bewilderingly ahead of the rest of TV when it comes to Bechdel-ing it up; why can't my beloved speculative-fiction shows get their arses into gear and follow their lead?
I am full of the warm glow that comes when you are very close to having actually checked ALL THE LITTLE BOXES on your evening's to-do list; I am three pages of otolaryngology study and a few paragraphs of fic away from having done everything I told myself I would do, which is, let's face it, a vanishingly rare occurence.
Other things I am full of include desperate woe that the second season of The Good Wife is not yet available on DVD, because I need more Alicia and Kalinda and Diane (and some of the men, I suppose) in my life right the hell now. SHOW <3 What with it and Damages, legal dramas are bewilderingly ahead of the rest of TV when it comes to Bechdel-ing it up; why can't my beloved speculative-fiction shows get their arses into gear and follow their lead?