How my birthday was awesome like David Hewlett's ass (or: midnight is where the day begins)
I am hungover and I am in a great mood, and that is the wonderful contradiction of life in fandom. Yes.
So yesterday was my birthday (guess how old I am. No, go on, guess! And no peeking at my userinfo!) and it was wonderful and incredible, first and foremost because a bunch of fabulous people put together the community day_begins and gave me prezzies! First you should go check out the hilarious and wonderful list of interests in their userinfo (my own interests seriously need to be updated), and then you should check out the amazing things people made for me. Which I will now proceed to gush about.
*reccea wrote the lovely, subtle story Campfire, which is wonderfully atmospheric and has an excellently characterized John who just breaks my heart, but whom I have real hope for, too. It's great.
*smittywing wrote Padraic's Legacy which...well, I don't want to spoil the AWESOME, CRACKISH DELIGHT that is this story, so let's just say that it starts out with John quoting Indiana Jones, proceeds to take full advantage of the St. Patrick's day theme, and ONLY GETS BETTER FROM THERE. I'm into obnoxious caps-lock territory because of this story. *glee*
*tardis80 made me this:
...which I have to display in its fully glory here. I just...*spasms* It's enough to make me find religion.
*stop wrote Going Soft, which has puns, euphemisms, and FOOTNOTES. Sing with me now: "These are a few of my favorite things..."
*Speaking of euphemisms, _inbetween_ performed a truly miraculous feat, writing Pull My Daisy, a story featuring every single one of the penis euphemisms listed here. And it has an actual plot! It's a scary, scary genius that _inbetween_ has...
*megolas wrote Entanglement, which is a simply gorgeous look into Rodney's mind and which makes both math and physics incredibly SEXY. *boggles* Go boggle, too.
*dar_jeeling made me six gorgeous icons, including the one proudly sported by this post. (And how much do I love that I seem to have created a new phrase?) There is even an icon of Ralph the Elephant! *loves*
*not_sally made me a beautiful Shirley Manson (of Garbage) icon and wallpaper, and also (scroll down), possibly the most hilarious and clever SGA icon EVER. Just...*is filled with gleeful pride*
*fyrie wrote me Playing the Game, an adorable fic about Rodney and Radek, with some fab Cadman bits lurking in the background, too. I don't want to spoil this, either, but let me just say that I can TOTALLY see this happening. In fact, I bet it already has.
*And last but so, so very far from least, siriaeve wrote Sfumato, which is an absolutely breathtaking fic about John and Rodney in Italy. But it's about so much more than that, too. You must read this, and tell Siria how wonderful it is, and encourage Siria to write more, more, more. I'm just...guh.
(Verklempt, Siria: now would be a very appropriate time to say I am verklempt. *g*)
Thank you, also, to everyone who wished me a happy birthday yesterday, and to the anonymous person who bought me the pint of Guinness in my userinfo. You're all wonderful; you make fandom a fabulous place to be, and I love you all. *big squishy hug*
NOW, onto what I actually did yesterday to celebrate...
siriaeve and loony_moony picked me up bright and early and took me for a full Irish breakfast at Bewley's on Grafton. I was wearing my green tights and the Ireland shirt lordelessar and nenar got me for Christmas, so I think I looked nicely spirited without verging onto scary-fuzzy-green-hat touristy territory. At breakfast, Siria presented me with a really hot card of David Hewlett and a Dalek full of chocolates. It will exterminate you...with deliciousness!
After breakfast, we stopped off in Bewley's bathroom, which was way at the top of the restaurant, isolated and freezing cold. We had it to ourselves, and while we waited for loony_moony, Siria and I took to admiring the advertising on the walls.
Siria: *points to ad for pregnancy test* Oh, that's nice. I bet they don't have those in the men's room.
Trin: They do...ON THE PLANET OF THE ASS-BABIES.
Siria: *eyes go comically wide*
Bewley's waitress: *walks past, having come in behind Trin at the perfect/most perfectly awful moment*
Trin: *quietly dies*
Yeah, so I can never set foot in Bewley's again! But it was worth it. Totally worth it.
Then we went out and tried to find places along the parade route. We found not-so-bad spots, considering that we waited until the last minute to go out. And the parade was FANTASTIC. Completely unlike any parade I have ever seen: there were marching bands, sure, but there were also utterly bizarre floats and costumes and humongous, grotesque puppets. We really couldn't figure what any of these were supposed to symbolize--like, there was the one that seemed to be in support of lesbian weddings, and the army of people with fake tans, and the smaller army of girls dressed in towels, and the surely-dying-of-cold football-groupie bellydancers, and a running obsession with fish and mermaids, and just...yeah. It was wonderfully, gorgeously alien and surreal. Way to party, Dublin!
There were only three drawbacks to the parade experience:
1. Several times, it began to hail spontaneously. Seriously, it was like somebody emptied a bucket over us. I was annoyed by this, but not as annoyed as Siria, who had a piece of hail somehow bypass her scarf, her coat, and her jumper, and make its way down her cleavage. (That piece of hail: Whee! Best aim ever!)
2. And yet the weird sexual assaults weren't over yet! At one point, the crowd became even more impacted...which was of course when some idiot mother decided to send her children to push through into a space where no space existed. I was already attaining way more familiarity with the general back-region of the guy in front of me than I would have otherwise liked, when suddenly I felt, shall we say, a slight breeze. And then a hand. Someone had lifted up my skirt and was groping my ass! I turned around, ready to slap some guy in the face for being cheeky (I've always wanted to do that!)...and instead discovered that it was one of the little kids, a young boy of maybe five, who had been searching for purchase on something and had apparently found it. On my ass. Yes, I was molested by a five-year-old. Go me!
3. March? Not the best month for a parade. loony_moony and I got so cold that bits of us nearly started falling off. When we went back to my room for tea and Nutella, it took over an hour for feeling to return to my toes.
But once I could walk without falling into things (er, any more than usual), we all hopped on a bus to go to Siria's house in Drumcondra. It looked like a perfectly ordinary bus. Little did we know that it was actually the bus...to HELL!
You see, there were these girls on this bus. Nine- or ten-year-old girls. DRUNK nine- or ten-year-old girls. Devil children. They shouted. They stomped. They shook the seats. They insulted the other passengers. They sang. Dear sweet Jesus, they SANG.
Here are some actual notes passed between Siria and myself when this ruckus made actual conversation impossible:
Trin: Shouting = singing? I did not know this!
Siria: Do you think they'd notice if we dose them with Ritalin?
Trin: How about cyanide?
Siria: The best part is how they only know two lines of the national anthem. One of which they got wrong, so apparently we owe our loyalty to bread.
Trin: It is good to be loyal to bread. You don't want to piss bread off.
Siria: Bread will fuck your shit up.
Trin: Bread's gonna have to choke a bitch.
Trin: Take heart. Remember--David Hewlett will have an ass in heaven. AMEN.
FINALLY they got off and shortly thereafter, we arrived at Siria's. We feasted on Chinese food, watched Serenity, and loony_moony and I got steadily drunk on premixed margaritas, which were a bit odd, but did the job. I also whipped out my Essence of McKay, which, you may recall, was the Mackay "Clan Dram" of whisky I bought in Scotland because I am the biggest dork in the world. I put my mouth on the shaft of the bottle, worked my lips around the head, and sucked it dry. And...I swallowed.
At some point after I--supposedly! I deny everything!--started making comments about Joss Whedon's ass, Siria suggested that I should probably either go home or give in and camp out on her couch for the night. I dragged myself home...and good thing, too, because I found some apparently drunker person's lost 10 euro note on Nassau Street. I am a lucky drunk! Yay!
So it was a fabulous, fun, crazy, dorky birthday, and I loved every minute, even if my toes didn't. Then this morning I woke up, ate some more Nutella, and wrote a piece of baddirtywrong smut that'll probably never see the light of day. And thus my 23rd year looks to be following in the footsteps of the last: full of porn and chocolate.
Well. Can't complain.
So yesterday was my birthday (guess how old I am. No, go on, guess! And no peeking at my userinfo!) and it was wonderful and incredible, first and foremost because a bunch of fabulous people put together the community day_begins and gave me prezzies! First you should go check out the hilarious and wonderful list of interests in their userinfo (my own interests seriously need to be updated), and then you should check out the amazing things people made for me. Which I will now proceed to gush about.
*reccea wrote the lovely, subtle story Campfire, which is wonderfully atmospheric and has an excellently characterized John who just breaks my heart, but whom I have real hope for, too. It's great.
*smittywing wrote Padraic's Legacy which...well, I don't want to spoil the AWESOME, CRACKISH DELIGHT that is this story, so let's just say that it starts out with John quoting Indiana Jones, proceeds to take full advantage of the St. Patrick's day theme, and ONLY GETS BETTER FROM THERE. I'm into obnoxious caps-lock territory because of this story. *glee*
*tardis80 made me this:
...which I have to display in its fully glory here. I just...*spasms* It's enough to make me find religion.
*stop wrote Going Soft, which has puns, euphemisms, and FOOTNOTES. Sing with me now: "These are a few of my favorite things..."
*Speaking of euphemisms, _inbetween_ performed a truly miraculous feat, writing Pull My Daisy, a story featuring every single one of the penis euphemisms listed here. And it has an actual plot! It's a scary, scary genius that _inbetween_ has...
*megolas wrote Entanglement, which is a simply gorgeous look into Rodney's mind and which makes both math and physics incredibly SEXY. *boggles* Go boggle, too.
*dar_jeeling made me six gorgeous icons, including the one proudly sported by this post. (And how much do I love that I seem to have created a new phrase?) There is even an icon of Ralph the Elephant! *loves*
*not_sally made me a beautiful Shirley Manson (of Garbage) icon and wallpaper, and also (scroll down), possibly the most hilarious and clever SGA icon EVER. Just...*is filled with gleeful pride*
*fyrie wrote me Playing the Game, an adorable fic about Rodney and Radek, with some fab Cadman bits lurking in the background, too. I don't want to spoil this, either, but let me just say that I can TOTALLY see this happening. In fact, I bet it already has.
*And last but so, so very far from least, siriaeve wrote Sfumato, which is an absolutely breathtaking fic about John and Rodney in Italy. But it's about so much more than that, too. You must read this, and tell Siria how wonderful it is, and encourage Siria to write more, more, more. I'm just...guh.
(Verklempt, Siria: now would be a very appropriate time to say I am verklempt. *g*)
Thank you, also, to everyone who wished me a happy birthday yesterday, and to the anonymous person who bought me the pint of Guinness in my userinfo. You're all wonderful; you make fandom a fabulous place to be, and I love you all. *big squishy hug*
NOW, onto what I actually did yesterday to celebrate...
siriaeve and loony_moony picked me up bright and early and took me for a full Irish breakfast at Bewley's on Grafton. I was wearing my green tights and the Ireland shirt lordelessar and nenar got me for Christmas, so I think I looked nicely spirited without verging onto scary-fuzzy-green-hat touristy territory. At breakfast, Siria presented me with a really hot card of David Hewlett and a Dalek full of chocolates. It will exterminate you...with deliciousness!
After breakfast, we stopped off in Bewley's bathroom, which was way at the top of the restaurant, isolated and freezing cold. We had it to ourselves, and while we waited for loony_moony, Siria and I took to admiring the advertising on the walls.
Siria: *points to ad for pregnancy test* Oh, that's nice. I bet they don't have those in the men's room.
Trin: They do...ON THE PLANET OF THE ASS-BABIES.
Siria: *eyes go comically wide*
Bewley's waitress: *walks past, having come in behind Trin at the perfect/most perfectly awful moment*
Trin: *quietly dies*
Yeah, so I can never set foot in Bewley's again! But it was worth it. Totally worth it.
Then we went out and tried to find places along the parade route. We found not-so-bad spots, considering that we waited until the last minute to go out. And the parade was FANTASTIC. Completely unlike any parade I have ever seen: there were marching bands, sure, but there were also utterly bizarre floats and costumes and humongous, grotesque puppets. We really couldn't figure what any of these were supposed to symbolize--like, there was the one that seemed to be in support of lesbian weddings, and the army of people with fake tans, and the smaller army of girls dressed in towels, and the surely-dying-of-cold football-groupie bellydancers, and a running obsession with fish and mermaids, and just...yeah. It was wonderfully, gorgeously alien and surreal. Way to party, Dublin!
There were only three drawbacks to the parade experience:
1. Several times, it began to hail spontaneously. Seriously, it was like somebody emptied a bucket over us. I was annoyed by this, but not as annoyed as Siria, who had a piece of hail somehow bypass her scarf, her coat, and her jumper, and make its way down her cleavage. (That piece of hail: Whee! Best aim ever!)
2. And yet the weird sexual assaults weren't over yet! At one point, the crowd became even more impacted...which was of course when some idiot mother decided to send her children to push through into a space where no space existed. I was already attaining way more familiarity with the general back-region of the guy in front of me than I would have otherwise liked, when suddenly I felt, shall we say, a slight breeze. And then a hand. Someone had lifted up my skirt and was groping my ass! I turned around, ready to slap some guy in the face for being cheeky (I've always wanted to do that!)...and instead discovered that it was one of the little kids, a young boy of maybe five, who had been searching for purchase on something and had apparently found it. On my ass. Yes, I was molested by a five-year-old. Go me!
3. March? Not the best month for a parade. loony_moony and I got so cold that bits of us nearly started falling off. When we went back to my room for tea and Nutella, it took over an hour for feeling to return to my toes.
But once I could walk without falling into things (er, any more than usual), we all hopped on a bus to go to Siria's house in Drumcondra. It looked like a perfectly ordinary bus. Little did we know that it was actually the bus...to HELL!
You see, there were these girls on this bus. Nine- or ten-year-old girls. DRUNK nine- or ten-year-old girls. Devil children. They shouted. They stomped. They shook the seats. They insulted the other passengers. They sang. Dear sweet Jesus, they SANG.
Here are some actual notes passed between Siria and myself when this ruckus made actual conversation impossible:
Trin: Shouting = singing? I did not know this!
Siria: Do you think they'd notice if we dose them with Ritalin?
Trin: How about cyanide?
Siria: The best part is how they only know two lines of the national anthem. One of which they got wrong, so apparently we owe our loyalty to bread.
Trin: It is good to be loyal to bread. You don't want to piss bread off.
Siria: Bread will fuck your shit up.
Trin: Bread's gonna have to choke a bitch.
Trin: Take heart. Remember--David Hewlett will have an ass in heaven. AMEN.
FINALLY they got off and shortly thereafter, we arrived at Siria's. We feasted on Chinese food, watched Serenity, and loony_moony and I got steadily drunk on premixed margaritas, which were a bit odd, but did the job. I also whipped out my Essence of McKay, which, you may recall, was the Mackay "Clan Dram" of whisky I bought in Scotland because I am the biggest dork in the world. I put my mouth on the shaft of the bottle, worked my lips around the head, and sucked it dry. And...I swallowed.
At some point after I--supposedly! I deny everything!--started making comments about Joss Whedon's ass, Siria suggested that I should probably either go home or give in and camp out on her couch for the night. I dragged myself home...and good thing, too, because I found some apparently drunker person's lost 10 euro note on Nassau Street. I am a lucky drunk! Yay!
So it was a fabulous, fun, crazy, dorky birthday, and I loved every minute, even if my toes didn't. Then this morning I woke up, ate some more Nutella, and wrote a piece of baddirtywrong smut that'll probably never see the light of day. And thus my 23rd year looks to be following in the footsteps of the last: full of porn and chocolate.
Well. Can't complain.