These little problems, they're not yours, they're mine
Apologies to anyone who was looking for me on AIM tonight-- all two of you!-- but I was asked to an Oktoberfest gathering and my willpower against beer and sausages took a hit, as well as the fact it was being hosted by the family of one of my best high school friends. So I went, was the youngest person there by a good twenty five years, and generally sat in the corner, drinking beer and eating sausage and listening to my friend's father tell me all about his alcoholic father. I've had weirder nights.
I always feel a bit odd about when I post about both my personal life and my fandom mutterings at the same time, so here they are, divided neatly in two.
My friend's father also told me all about the current romantic strife in his daughter's life. I was just sober enough to refrain from saying, "Sir, I think I've heard all this from your daughter before, and I probably heard it in greater sexual detail than you did, too." That just isn't the sort of thing you bust out on two drinks. You probably should wait until at least the third.
Then again, my advice to the friend was something like, "You know, he's not really suicide-hot. He's not even shin-banging-hot." So, I'm not the best person to go to on these sort of affairs.
I had a dream the other night where Jesus took me to a baseball game, but then He told me I couldn't have a beer. I think I said something like, "Well, okay," while privately wondering why Jesus cared about my drinking habits. I mean, He is The Jesus and all, and presumably has more money than I do, plus I drink His blood and He might even be able to transubstantiate me a drink and one of those big chewy pretzels out of... I don't know, gum from under the seat. Although if I saw Him do that, I probably wouldn't want to drink or eat it anymore, even if it did come from Jesus. I'd do it to be polite, but I'd be secretly worried.
(Also, I still capitalize all of Christ's pronouns. Carry-over from twelve years of Catholic schooling, where the teacher marked you down points if you forgot to. I myself think Jesus would probably be willing to cut me some slack if I slipped up on the shift key, but try telling that to Sister Grace. And the quizzes, God, the endless quizzes. Seven points off just for misspelling one letter of Anointing? For accidentally transposing two popes when reeling off a twenty-five pope list from memory? JESUS WOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN THOSE POINTS AWAY.
...Clearly I remember a lot of my schooling. Just not the bits they meant me to.)
Getting back on track. Jesus then read my mind and said the only reason I couldn't have a beer was that we were going out to dinner later. There would be better beer there. So, I guess that made up for everything, although I was a little creeped out that Jesus read my mind. But seeing Jesus in a baseball cap was pretty cool.
I'm not an alcoholic. I don't even like beer that much. You'd think Jesus would know that.
Today I started to cook some macaroni, but because the box must have been an old one, there were little dead moths or mites or some sort of insect floating to the top of the water when I dumped the pasta in. Maybe five or six of them, about the side of a pinhead? The question I'm posing here is what you think I did.
A) Tossed the whole batch, made new.
B) Strained out the bugs, boiled, ate it without looking at it.
C) Didn't strain bugs but did rinse macaroni in strainer once cooked.
D) Not a damn thing, ate, finished eating.
Of course, I know what I did, but I'm vaguely curious as to what folks would believe I would do. (I'm not optimistic. I mean, apparently people have no problem with thinking I slam nuns around. Which I do, but only if they have it coming.)
I still don't know if Louise is alive or not. Seriously, I'm going to buy those headphones if she's dead. Or maybe she has a pair I could have; after all, it's not like she'll be needing them.
I've been trying to be open-minded about Dirge of Cerberus, because it was very nice to be proved mostly wrong about the merits of Advent Children. But really, it's just not working out. soranokumo articulates a lot of my complaints about it right here, so I won't bother recapping.
It's like being on the third of a series of blind dates-- internet dates, mind you, chat session sort of dates-- where we keep finding each time that we've got, like, a couple little things in common but there are too many big disparities and it just isn't clicking. We've never seen each other in person, but I don't know if the photos she's sending me are accurate. She seems sort of skanky. I would break up with her, but we were never really dating to begin with and it's just sort of awkward because I know she's going to go back and dish on me to her sisters, Crisis Core and Before Crisis. She's probably going to make fun of me to them, which is bad because I still might try to get either of them to have a one-night stand with me, but how can I do that if Dirge of Cerberus is going, "Oh, and she always accidentally spells 'finish' wrong, too."
And it all wouldn't be so complicated if I hadn't a fairly nice time going out with her older sister, Advent Children, but Advent Children and I are still in sort of an experimental phase where we have ups and downs. And I can see Advent Children angling for a ring on her finger but dammit, I am just not ready to make that commitment, even if she is smokin' hot on the surface. I just don't know if she has depth, you know? She's got a lot of heart, but I don't want to rush into this. Somehow, we always end up necking in dark utility closets because her mother doesn't even know I'm seeing her. She's underage, practically statutory, but she's real experienced nonetheless. Her mother thinks we shouldn't meet until January 10th when she'll be old enough, but I pull up beneath her window and she sneaks out via the tree branch nearby.
I wonder why I'm trying to date all these sisters at once. My life is a sitcom comedy.
Anyway, I don't think I can do the pseudo-breakup with Dirge on actual AIM. I'd have to email it to her, which is a dick move but we were never really dating, right? And then I get drunk and accidentally send a really rude email to her mom.
Dear Squeenix,
MADAM, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR DOPEY OCS, MORE SO WHEN THEY ARE BARELY DRESSED. MAKE WITH THE CANON, AND STOP FUCKING AROUND.
Cordial regards,
Thorne
P.S. Also, give Yuffie back her AC outfit. Like, for real. And change Reeve's last name, as it is quite stupid.
P.P.S. I think I might have left my detachable penis in your medicine cabinet when I was sneaking into your house to plow one of your daughters. I do that sometimes. Please check for me?
P.P.P.S Hey, she came on to me.
And after all the tears and affairs and court-summons, I go home to their oldest sister, the original FFVII, and we make sweet love. FFVII plows me. She has a job and her own place. Sure she's a little blocky in the face, but it's not about her physical appearance in the end.
Moving on. Been trying to find a Weiss Kreuz story that I read long ago, and cannot remember the name of for the life of me. So, I've been googling various keyword combinations and coming up with absolutely nothing. I can't even remember if the story is worth the effort-- I mean, I remember vaguely that I enjoyed it, but I could find it and be easily disappointed. Well. You know, Weiss Kreuz has always been a very strange fandom in my eyes-- for such crap canon, it seems to draw a lot of talented writers, sort of like Smallville. It doesn't even have prettiness or really good plot or zippy writing to explain it.
Weiss Kreuz is a chia pet, something fangirls can easily grow and coo over. It rquires little effort. Weiss Kreuz is Easy-Mac, a meal that you don't even has to properly cook, just microwave. Weiss Kreuz is the scrub who somehow has a lot of really hot women on his arms, and you wonder how the hell he got all those babes when he's not good looking or even particularly smart or interesting. You reckon that maybe he slips them roofies.
I have got to stop making sexually-charged fandom metaphors; they are spiraling rapidly out of my control.
Anyhow, last fandom thing is for the splishslash, that I picked up off a Brendan Hansen site: Nate Dusing's blog during the Olympics, here. Fun bits, and good for ideas on what the athletes do in their spare time.
Since I finished fifth in the 100 freestyle at the Olympic Trials two and a half weeks ago and was picked as a relay alternate for the 4x100 relay, things have been pretty sweet. I spent two weeks training and soaking up sun in Palo Alto, CA at our Pre-Olympic training camp. It was a good time and nice to train with the other members of the team. This is where we really started to bond as a team. We passed the time between practices by playing poker and going to movies. The Bourne Supremacy was my favorite of the movies we went to see. Another interesting activity we had was a serious game of miniature golf. We split the men's team into seven teams of three to battle it out to become the miniature golf champions. I was teamed with Michael Phelps and Jason Lezak, a formidable threesome, or so I thought. It turns out that Michael is only good at swimming and Jason, being a sprinter, faded at the end of our round. So we came up a little short of "The Championship." Actually, a lot short, we finished in dead last.
After all the fun we had in Palo Alto, it was finally Aug. 1 and time to leave for Athens. We flew from San Fransico to Frankfurt, Germany and then on to Greece. Total travel time was a swift 18 hours. We landed at 3:00pm Monday in Athens and went straight to the village to check in. Exhausted and sleep deprived we got into the village and went straight to bed. Today, my sweetmates ( the other five men who went to Texas) and I all woke up around 5:30am. Well before we had to be anywhere. We sat on our balcony and relished how great this experience is going to be.
He spelled suitemates wrong, so I won't get on his case for being mean to Michael. Unless it was intentional, in which case, whoa, them Texas boys is up to dickens.
Probably the most fun we had was on Sunday night, our rookie skit night. The way it works is if this is your first Olympic team you have to do a skit that parodies things we've done, people on the team, or anything you want. We do skits for all our teams (world champs, Pan Pacs, etc.), and I've seen a lot, but these were some of the best. We had pre-taped footage for skits, a power point presentation, and a lot of making fun of Michael Phelps (he's an easy target) and Katie Hoff (she's the youngest at 15 so that makes her an easy target). It is all done in good fun and no one's feelings got hurt, I think.
Really, be nice to Michael. The folks on the site I snagged it off of were less than kind as well. How can you hate a face so sweet and goofy? Also, spellcheck, my good man.
I am in a sort of tri-mood state, where I fluctuate through a genial sort of rage, inexplicable paranoia, or quiet laidbackness. I think it's hormones.
I always feel a bit odd about when I post about both my personal life and my fandom mutterings at the same time, so here they are, divided neatly in two.
My friend's father also told me all about the current romantic strife in his daughter's life. I was just sober enough to refrain from saying, "Sir, I think I've heard all this from your daughter before, and I probably heard it in greater sexual detail than you did, too." That just isn't the sort of thing you bust out on two drinks. You probably should wait until at least the third.
Then again, my advice to the friend was something like, "You know, he's not really suicide-hot. He's not even shin-banging-hot." So, I'm not the best person to go to on these sort of affairs.
I had a dream the other night where Jesus took me to a baseball game, but then He told me I couldn't have a beer. I think I said something like, "Well, okay," while privately wondering why Jesus cared about my drinking habits. I mean, He is The Jesus and all, and presumably has more money than I do, plus I drink His blood and He might even be able to transubstantiate me a drink and one of those big chewy pretzels out of... I don't know, gum from under the seat. Although if I saw Him do that, I probably wouldn't want to drink or eat it anymore, even if it did come from Jesus. I'd do it to be polite, but I'd be secretly worried.
(Also, I still capitalize all of Christ's pronouns. Carry-over from twelve years of Catholic schooling, where the teacher marked you down points if you forgot to. I myself think Jesus would probably be willing to cut me some slack if I slipped up on the shift key, but try telling that to Sister Grace. And the quizzes, God, the endless quizzes. Seven points off just for misspelling one letter of Anointing? For accidentally transposing two popes when reeling off a twenty-five pope list from memory? JESUS WOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN THOSE POINTS AWAY.
...Clearly I remember a lot of my schooling. Just not the bits they meant me to.)
Getting back on track. Jesus then read my mind and said the only reason I couldn't have a beer was that we were going out to dinner later. There would be better beer there. So, I guess that made up for everything, although I was a little creeped out that Jesus read my mind. But seeing Jesus in a baseball cap was pretty cool.
I'm not an alcoholic. I don't even like beer that much. You'd think Jesus would know that.
Today I started to cook some macaroni, but because the box must have been an old one, there were little dead moths or mites or some sort of insect floating to the top of the water when I dumped the pasta in. Maybe five or six of them, about the side of a pinhead? The question I'm posing here is what you think I did.
A) Tossed the whole batch, made new.
B) Strained out the bugs, boiled, ate it without looking at it.
C) Didn't strain bugs but did rinse macaroni in strainer once cooked.
D) Not a damn thing, ate, finished eating.
Of course, I know what I did, but I'm vaguely curious as to what folks would believe I would do. (I'm not optimistic. I mean, apparently people have no problem with thinking I slam nuns around. Which I do, but only if they have it coming.)
I still don't know if Louise is alive or not. Seriously, I'm going to buy those headphones if she's dead. Or maybe she has a pair I could have; after all, it's not like she'll be needing them.
I've been trying to be open-minded about Dirge of Cerberus, because it was very nice to be proved mostly wrong about the merits of Advent Children. But really, it's just not working out. soranokumo articulates a lot of my complaints about it right here, so I won't bother recapping.
It's like being on the third of a series of blind dates-- internet dates, mind you, chat session sort of dates-- where we keep finding each time that we've got, like, a couple little things in common but there are too many big disparities and it just isn't clicking. We've never seen each other in person, but I don't know if the photos she's sending me are accurate. She seems sort of skanky. I would break up with her, but we were never really dating to begin with and it's just sort of awkward because I know she's going to go back and dish on me to her sisters, Crisis Core and Before Crisis. She's probably going to make fun of me to them, which is bad because I still might try to get either of them to have a one-night stand with me, but how can I do that if Dirge of Cerberus is going, "Oh, and she always accidentally spells 'finish' wrong, too."
And it all wouldn't be so complicated if I hadn't a fairly nice time going out with her older sister, Advent Children, but Advent Children and I are still in sort of an experimental phase where we have ups and downs. And I can see Advent Children angling for a ring on her finger but dammit, I am just not ready to make that commitment, even if she is smokin' hot on the surface. I just don't know if she has depth, you know? She's got a lot of heart, but I don't want to rush into this. Somehow, we always end up necking in dark utility closets because her mother doesn't even know I'm seeing her. She's underage, practically statutory, but she's real experienced nonetheless. Her mother thinks we shouldn't meet until January 10th when she'll be old enough, but I pull up beneath her window and she sneaks out via the tree branch nearby.
I wonder why I'm trying to date all these sisters at once. My life is a sitcom comedy.
Anyway, I don't think I can do the pseudo-breakup with Dirge on actual AIM. I'd have to email it to her, which is a dick move but we were never really dating, right? And then I get drunk and accidentally send a really rude email to her mom.
Dear Squeenix,
MADAM, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR DOPEY OCS, MORE SO WHEN THEY ARE BARELY DRESSED. MAKE WITH THE CANON, AND STOP FUCKING AROUND.
Cordial regards,
Thorne
P.S. Also, give Yuffie back her AC outfit. Like, for real. And change Reeve's last name, as it is quite stupid.
P.P.S. I think I might have left my detachable penis in your medicine cabinet when I was sneaking into your house to plow one of your daughters. I do that sometimes. Please check for me?
P.P.P.S Hey, she came on to me.
And after all the tears and affairs and court-summons, I go home to their oldest sister, the original FFVII, and we make sweet love. FFVII plows me. She has a job and her own place. Sure she's a little blocky in the face, but it's not about her physical appearance in the end.
Moving on. Been trying to find a Weiss Kreuz story that I read long ago, and cannot remember the name of for the life of me. So, I've been googling various keyword combinations and coming up with absolutely nothing. I can't even remember if the story is worth the effort-- I mean, I remember vaguely that I enjoyed it, but I could find it and be easily disappointed. Well. You know, Weiss Kreuz has always been a very strange fandom in my eyes-- for such crap canon, it seems to draw a lot of talented writers, sort of like Smallville. It doesn't even have prettiness or really good plot or zippy writing to explain it.
Weiss Kreuz is a chia pet, something fangirls can easily grow and coo over. It rquires little effort. Weiss Kreuz is Easy-Mac, a meal that you don't even has to properly cook, just microwave. Weiss Kreuz is the scrub who somehow has a lot of really hot women on his arms, and you wonder how the hell he got all those babes when he's not good looking or even particularly smart or interesting. You reckon that maybe he slips them roofies.
I have got to stop making sexually-charged fandom metaphors; they are spiraling rapidly out of my control.
Anyhow, last fandom thing is for the splishslash, that I picked up off a Brendan Hansen site: Nate Dusing's blog during the Olympics, here. Fun bits, and good for ideas on what the athletes do in their spare time.
Since I finished fifth in the 100 freestyle at the Olympic Trials two and a half weeks ago and was picked as a relay alternate for the 4x100 relay, things have been pretty sweet. I spent two weeks training and soaking up sun in Palo Alto, CA at our Pre-Olympic training camp. It was a good time and nice to train with the other members of the team. This is where we really started to bond as a team. We passed the time between practices by playing poker and going to movies. The Bourne Supremacy was my favorite of the movies we went to see. Another interesting activity we had was a serious game of miniature golf. We split the men's team into seven teams of three to battle it out to become the miniature golf champions. I was teamed with Michael Phelps and Jason Lezak, a formidable threesome, or so I thought. It turns out that Michael is only good at swimming and Jason, being a sprinter, faded at the end of our round. So we came up a little short of "The Championship." Actually, a lot short, we finished in dead last.
After all the fun we had in Palo Alto, it was finally Aug. 1 and time to leave for Athens. We flew from San Fransico to Frankfurt, Germany and then on to Greece. Total travel time was a swift 18 hours. We landed at 3:00pm Monday in Athens and went straight to the village to check in. Exhausted and sleep deprived we got into the village and went straight to bed. Today, my sweetmates ( the other five men who went to Texas) and I all woke up around 5:30am. Well before we had to be anywhere. We sat on our balcony and relished how great this experience is going to be.
He spelled suitemates wrong, so I won't get on his case for being mean to Michael. Unless it was intentional, in which case, whoa, them Texas boys is up to dickens.
Probably the most fun we had was on Sunday night, our rookie skit night. The way it works is if this is your first Olympic team you have to do a skit that parodies things we've done, people on the team, or anything you want. We do skits for all our teams (world champs, Pan Pacs, etc.), and I've seen a lot, but these were some of the best. We had pre-taped footage for skits, a power point presentation, and a lot of making fun of Michael Phelps (he's an easy target) and Katie Hoff (she's the youngest at 15 so that makes her an easy target). It is all done in good fun and no one's feelings got hurt, I think.
Really, be nice to Michael. The folks on the site I snagged it off of were less than kind as well. How can you hate a face so sweet and goofy? Also, spellcheck, my good man.
I am in a sort of tri-mood state, where I fluctuate through a genial sort of rage, inexplicable paranoia, or quiet laidbackness. I think it's hormones.