General Crap.
Sounds like the name of an anime villain. General Crap.
Anyway.
1) Saw Mom. She's doing okay -- on some really good drugs, so she's actually in a very good mood. She's been drawing basically nonstop, it's all she really has the energy for. We don't know what her prognosis is. No matter how they like to pretend otherwise, the medical community basically knows jack shit about what is wrong, so we're just kind of drifting in blissful ignorance. I'm fine with that. The chemo seems to be working, though she's pretty messed up.
She told me about the time her dog peed on a Shetland pony, and did not once bitch at me about anything vehicular or monetary. I can safely say she has not been in a mood this good since I was twelve.
Dad is a cheerful maniac. Ever since they gave us the cat, they have had an influx of vermin. Mathurin was a great hunter, you see, and now that he's gone, rodents have infested the woodpile near the birdfeeder.
My dad spends part of each day up on the balcony with a high-powered air rifle and scope, shooting rats as they come to raid for birdseed. So far he has bagged eighteen. That's confirmed kills, not counting the ones that stagger off to die theatrically and are A) never found or B) found and worried by the dogs into unidentifiability. No, I forbid you to feel bad for these rats. These are not the cute rats that nice folks keep as pets. These are greasy, foot-long disease vectors with truly alarming teeth.
I'm considering making him a chalkboard with "DEATH RECORDS" painted across the top.
I'd worry about his sanity, but he's always been like this. He still talks about shooting rats in Viet Nam with bullets made of soap, because they weren't allowed to use bullets that might actually ricochet off the inside of the bunker and hurt someone.
This is in addition to the stories of his unit's token idiot, who once closed his scrotum in his foot locker.
I love my dad. In case you can't tell, he's where I get my extra-strength crazy.
2) If I could have any superpower, I'd probably pick telepathy/mind control. But second on that list is the amazing superpower that a lot of people on TV have. The ability to make your bath towel adhere to your body so it doesn't slide off or down, or gap open at the side. Now that's an incredible power.
3) Finished watching Angel. Jesus Christ. Every single episode in the last season was a really good episode, and they STILL canceled it. I hope they all get puppet cancer. I have now cried several times over a certain Very Spoilery Relationship. I want to kick Joss Whedon in the balls, except for the part where he's the only decent talent in his field. And the part where if I give him a lethal wedgie, he can never make good on his wrongs.
On the other hand, watching 13 seasons of his shows, I can honestly say that it has shown me a lot about raising the stakes when you're plotting for your characters. Never let them get complacent, and never give them a moment's peace.
After watching 13 seasons of his shows, I have also decided that the inclusion of Christian Kane with tattoos was a Very Good Thing. I'm not sure how to describe the look, though "Boyish Country-Western Satanist" comes to mind. Whatever it is, it pushes more of my hot buttons than anything else I've seen on TV in the last EVER.
Well, there was that episode of Dark Angel where Logan cut that guy's throat with piano wire and then proceeded to fight off the redneck mafia with nothing but a shotgun and a wheelchair. But that's a whole 'nother fetish: Geeky Guys Kicking Ass; to wit, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Also, Dark Angel was a pretty stinky show, eye candy aside. The worst episode of Buffy could wipe its ass with the best episode of Dark Angel.
I'm rambling, and if I keep it up, I'll just start fangirling, so I'm going to pretend this passes for content and turn the slate over to you guys while I get some much-needed sleep.
Anyway.
1) Saw Mom. She's doing okay -- on some really good drugs, so she's actually in a very good mood. She's been drawing basically nonstop, it's all she really has the energy for. We don't know what her prognosis is. No matter how they like to pretend otherwise, the medical community basically knows jack shit about what is wrong, so we're just kind of drifting in blissful ignorance. I'm fine with that. The chemo seems to be working, though she's pretty messed up.
She told me about the time her dog peed on a Shetland pony, and did not once bitch at me about anything vehicular or monetary. I can safely say she has not been in a mood this good since I was twelve.
Dad is a cheerful maniac. Ever since they gave us the cat, they have had an influx of vermin. Mathurin was a great hunter, you see, and now that he's gone, rodents have infested the woodpile near the birdfeeder.
My dad spends part of each day up on the balcony with a high-powered air rifle and scope, shooting rats as they come to raid for birdseed. So far he has bagged eighteen. That's confirmed kills, not counting the ones that stagger off to die theatrically and are A) never found or B) found and worried by the dogs into unidentifiability. No, I forbid you to feel bad for these rats. These are not the cute rats that nice folks keep as pets. These are greasy, foot-long disease vectors with truly alarming teeth.
I'm considering making him a chalkboard with "DEATH RECORDS" painted across the top.
I'd worry about his sanity, but he's always been like this. He still talks about shooting rats in Viet Nam with bullets made of soap, because they weren't allowed to use bullets that might actually ricochet off the inside of the bunker and hurt someone.
This is in addition to the stories of his unit's token idiot, who once closed his scrotum in his foot locker.
I love my dad. In case you can't tell, he's where I get my extra-strength crazy.
2) If I could have any superpower, I'd probably pick telepathy/mind control. But second on that list is the amazing superpower that a lot of people on TV have. The ability to make your bath towel adhere to your body so it doesn't slide off or down, or gap open at the side. Now that's an incredible power.
3) Finished watching Angel. Jesus Christ. Every single episode in the last season was a really good episode, and they STILL canceled it. I hope they all get puppet cancer. I have now cried several times over a certain Very Spoilery Relationship. I want to kick Joss Whedon in the balls, except for the part where he's the only decent talent in his field. And the part where if I give him a lethal wedgie, he can never make good on his wrongs.
On the other hand, watching 13 seasons of his shows, I can honestly say that it has shown me a lot about raising the stakes when you're plotting for your characters. Never let them get complacent, and never give them a moment's peace.
After watching 13 seasons of his shows, I have also decided that the inclusion of Christian Kane with tattoos was a Very Good Thing. I'm not sure how to describe the look, though "Boyish Country-Western Satanist" comes to mind. Whatever it is, it pushes more of my hot buttons than anything else I've seen on TV in the last EVER.
Well, there was that episode of Dark Angel where Logan cut that guy's throat with piano wire and then proceeded to fight off the redneck mafia with nothing but a shotgun and a wheelchair. But that's a whole 'nother fetish: Geeky Guys Kicking Ass; to wit, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Also, Dark Angel was a pretty stinky show, eye candy aside. The worst episode of Buffy could wipe its ass with the best episode of Dark Angel.
I'm rambling, and if I keep it up, I'll just start fangirling, so I'm going to pretend this passes for content and turn the slate over to you guys while I get some much-needed sleep.