(no subject)
My dear Rattlecatcher,
I am not ignoring you. I was tickled to have been tagged in your sinful display of guilty pleasures. However, first there was a cat on my lap making it impossible for me to reach the keyboard (during the writing of this prolog, this has again become the case. My shoulders stretch and the track-pad is under a furry canopy of haunch -- you see what I go through for you?).
Then I remembered that I still hadn't answered at times when I could not do so -- in the shower, during a really boring meeting, driving the car, etc. I actually did get to the web page and had answered #1 when I was distracted by something which made me late for work. Resolved to get it done, I did not shut down my laptop, but put it to sleep with a swift strike to the back of the head. My answer was still there waiting for me when I woke it back up with an afficacious application of smelling salts some hour and a half later before turning my attention to the morning's business correnspondance, during which, my hard drive suffered a fatal error and had to be replaced. (Oh, how I wish I were making this up!).
After that, I was afraid to go back to the scene of demise, just incase the body retained some illogical, but plot convenient, memory of its own death. So you don't get the pretty graphics. But behind the cut, you get the facts.
If any braver souls than I wish to get to the original form, it can be found here.
http://web.1asphost.com/rmlawson/Testbench/sillyljthing.html
Mind the videodrome-like scorch marks on the floor.
culinary: Cheetos. I can hold my head high and justify 'spensive pretnetions goodies til the cows come home, and like it. But when it comes to diseased-looking flurps of deep-fried corn coated in tangy toxic-orange almost artifical powdered cheese, there's really nothing I can say.
literary: Um, I'm currently reading the first Jedi Apprentice novel. The Escapade swap table was my dealer, but there was no one there pushing my hand.
audiovisual: Er, um, Look, a seagull. Oh, that didn't distract you? Damn, I though up answers to the last two and this one's still hasn't answered itself. OK, OK, I'm still watching Smallville. It's getting more difficult all the time. I find myself asking what I'm doing here, why I'm wasting my time and my brain cells. Then they give me just enough of a John Glover fix that I obediently sit back and wait for more. And hey -- they did give me FOUR James Marsterses the other week. Can you imagine what I could do with FOUR!!?!11!
musical: Early-mid '80s pop drivel still make me poing around like a teenager. I still know almost all the lyrics. I own Madonna's Imacualte Collection.
celebrity: Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt is not my style. Brad Pitt is not my type. Brad Pitt epitomized the kinda guy I take one look at and think "You wouldn't have noticed I existed in highshcool. If I met you today, you probably would not register me as a female of the same species, but once you'd had enough drinks to flirt with anything that moves, would be accosting me with the same the 'please fuck me' charm I'd been watching you offer every other chick in the room as a matter of social courtesy for the past two hours. And hope I didn't call the next day if I took you up on you plaintive offer to take advantage of you." His performance in Interview with a Vampire, my first exposure to him, inspired the belief he was a wookie with electrolosys. Denial can inspire some wonderful things, I tell ya! I do not seek out movies he's in. And yet, whenever we run into each other, I find myself trying to deny that he makes me as distracted and Jennifer Tilly's voice (which came in as a close second for this one) and imagining him with enough drinks in him to flirt with anything that moves.
And boy howdy, did that evern end up being longer than I expected
In other news, everything saved to my drive, but not to the corp backup (which I detest) is gone! *Augh* Including a project I'd spent weeks procrastinating about and days actually completing (the day before the tragic event), but had not yet emailed. Double *augh* The corp backup is no less unattractive, but after that, I really must bow myself to its yoke. ::shudder::
I made fantastic, wonderful, heavenly broth for this year's mazoh ball soup. The only problem is that I decided to throw in a little bit of lamb, figuring mixed meats always make a better flavor. And when I say "a bit," I really do mean "a bit." Like 4:1 fowl:flesh.
Well, it's much lambier than I expected. More "licken soup" than multi-dimensional chicken. Will I be drummed out of the community for heresy? OTOH, roasted lamb shank (exactly what's in the soup) has more to do with the ritual than chicken. So it could be argued that I'm being symbolic and interpretive, yes? OTOH, I didn't stop to consider whether or not there would be chicken-but-no-red-meat eaters in the crowd. Do I make a less profane second pot this morning and put the licken soup to other uses, or do I stick to my original inventiveness and say "they'll get what they get?" Maybe I should call the host and ask.
Men-Men has decided to crash the party. She brought zits, but the cramps are on back order. With any luck, they won't arrive until I'm back home safe and sound.
I am not ignoring you. I was tickled to have been tagged in your sinful display of guilty pleasures. However, first there was a cat on my lap making it impossible for me to reach the keyboard (during the writing of this prolog, this has again become the case. My shoulders stretch and the track-pad is under a furry canopy of haunch -- you see what I go through for you?).
Then I remembered that I still hadn't answered at times when I could not do so -- in the shower, during a really boring meeting, driving the car, etc. I actually did get to the web page and had answered #1 when I was distracted by something which made me late for work. Resolved to get it done, I did not shut down my laptop, but put it to sleep with a swift strike to the back of the head. My answer was still there waiting for me when I woke it back up with an afficacious application of smelling salts some hour and a half later before turning my attention to the morning's business correnspondance, during which, my hard drive suffered a fatal error and had to be replaced. (Oh, how I wish I were making this up!).
After that, I was afraid to go back to the scene of demise, just incase the body retained some illogical, but plot convenient, memory of its own death. So you don't get the pretty graphics. But behind the cut, you get the facts.
If any braver souls than I wish to get to the original form, it can be found here.
http://web.1asphost.com/rmlawson/Testbench/sillyljthing.html
Mind the videodrome-like scorch marks on the floor.
culinary: Cheetos. I can hold my head high and justify 'spensive pretnetions goodies til the cows come home, and like it. But when it comes to diseased-looking flurps of deep-fried corn coated in tangy toxic-orange almost artifical powdered cheese, there's really nothing I can say.
literary: Um, I'm currently reading the first Jedi Apprentice novel. The Escapade swap table was my dealer, but there was no one there pushing my hand.
audiovisual: Er, um, Look, a seagull. Oh, that didn't distract you? Damn, I though up answers to the last two and this one's still hasn't answered itself. OK, OK, I'm still watching Smallville. It's getting more difficult all the time. I find myself asking what I'm doing here, why I'm wasting my time and my brain cells. Then they give me just enough of a John Glover fix that I obediently sit back and wait for more. And hey -- they did give me FOUR James Marsterses the other week. Can you imagine what I could do with FOUR!!?!11!
musical: Early-mid '80s pop drivel still make me poing around like a teenager. I still know almost all the lyrics. I own Madonna's Imacualte Collection.
celebrity: Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt is not my style. Brad Pitt is not my type. Brad Pitt epitomized the kinda guy I take one look at and think "You wouldn't have noticed I existed in highshcool. If I met you today, you probably would not register me as a female of the same species, but once you'd had enough drinks to flirt with anything that moves, would be accosting me with the same the 'please fuck me' charm I'd been watching you offer every other chick in the room as a matter of social courtesy for the past two hours. And hope I didn't call the next day if I took you up on you plaintive offer to take advantage of you." His performance in Interview with a Vampire, my first exposure to him, inspired the belief he was a wookie with electrolosys. Denial can inspire some wonderful things, I tell ya! I do not seek out movies he's in. And yet, whenever we run into each other, I find myself trying to deny that he makes me as distracted and Jennifer Tilly's voice (which came in as a close second for this one) and imagining him with enough drinks in him to flirt with anything that moves.
And boy howdy, did that evern end up being longer than I expected
In other news, everything saved to my drive, but not to the corp backup (which I detest) is gone! *Augh* Including a project I'd spent weeks procrastinating about and days actually completing (the day before the tragic event), but had not yet emailed. Double *augh* The corp backup is no less unattractive, but after that, I really must bow myself to its yoke. ::shudder::
I made fantastic, wonderful, heavenly broth for this year's mazoh ball soup. The only problem is that I decided to throw in a little bit of lamb, figuring mixed meats always make a better flavor. And when I say "a bit," I really do mean "a bit." Like 4:1 fowl:flesh.
Well, it's much lambier than I expected. More "licken soup" than multi-dimensional chicken. Will I be drummed out of the community for heresy? OTOH, roasted lamb shank (exactly what's in the soup) has more to do with the ritual than chicken. So it could be argued that I'm being symbolic and interpretive, yes? OTOH, I didn't stop to consider whether or not there would be chicken-but-no-red-meat eaters in the crowd. Do I make a less profane second pot this morning and put the licken soup to other uses, or do I stick to my original inventiveness and say "they'll get what they get?" Maybe I should call the host and ask.
Men-Men has decided to crash the party. She brought zits, but the cramps are on back order. With any luck, they won't arrive until I'm back home safe and sound.