Goddamn, I am fail at updating -- but I have good excuses! I'm preparing to move country tomorrow! It takes up much of my time. (If you find yourself missing my dulcet tones and sainted words, I'd recommend following me on Twitter. I find it easier to find time for 140 character updates, rather than typing with the paragraphs and the context and the sentence structure.)
Right, so: TOMORROW I MOVE TO LONDON.
I am excite, you guys. I am also a bit terrified, but mostly I am excite. I'm going to be so hella busy for the next, like, week. PROBABLY I WILL POST PICTURES. And bitch about how much my feet hurt. :D
So there is some substance to this post -- apart from me reminding you all that still I live and function, et cetera, and no I have not been eaten by a pack of wild dogs -- I present you with, um. Icons of Mark Gatiss. Ta-da!
Have I mentioned that I love Mark Gatiss? Well, I do. Um, a lot. That's probably something of an understatement. I should instead say: I'm obsessively, giddily THRILLED by Mark Gatiss's existence and have happily spent the last two weeks consuming everything he has ever once even looked at, much less written or acted in. That's... probably more honest.
One of things he both wrote AND acted in is a docu-drama entitled Worst Journey in the World
. Based on the book of the same name, it covers Scott's expedition to Antarctica as told by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, and the subsequent death of Scott and his polar team. In it, Gatiss plays Cherry, who tries very hard but generally fails, in a cute way. (And looks very cold while doing it, which, as a Minnesotan, I enjoy). And there are penguins! Lee Ingleby, of Stan Shunpike and Vic Tyler fame, is also involved. Together they
form my new OTP. See? Look! Icons as proof:
It's a good drama. I highly recommend it to anyone who might be remotely interested in killing an hour of their time. It is ADORABLE, you guys. And TRAGIC. (In fact, when presented with something similarly -- but not equally because it has no equal -- sad, I find myself shouting out "DON'T RISK THE DOGS!" and then doing epic sadface to the confusion and terror of those around me. Unless they are hobbit_feets
, who understands these things.) It is the best emoporn in the world. But with penguins. You should know it and like it, fandom!
Hiii, how are you? I miss you guys. ♥
ihear: Katy Perry -- Hot N Cold
If you care to read it, Twilight live-blogging, ala Twitter: ( So in sum: AHAHAHA his face.Collapse )
Pretty much you can guess from the cut-tag what my favourite part was. Seriously, RPattz's face is, like, the best invention ever. It looks like it was made from plastic and some wax with little crushed particles of glass added in order to make it SHINY and light-reflective
I totally do want that fusion, though.
ifeel: amused doesn't even cover it
You guys, I -- I think I have the urge to watch Twilight? Possibly? Just the first film, whatever that’s called. Not the book. The book and its first-person would break me. (Once, about two years ago, I read the first fifteen pages. One of my minions brought the first book in to work for nights that were slow, and I stole it over a smoke break. Usually I read Wodehouse. Yeah. Yeah.
I have never been so thankful to finish a cigarette before in my life.) I, I can’t really explain why? I don’t know where this urge comes from.
Maybe I’m just in an emo-porn mood? Where I want the pointless, plot-less masturbating fantasy of cliché teenage-girldom? Like, where you sit next to that perfect specimen of humanity in class and crush on them and adolescently yearn. (Oh god, the yearning.) And they will never notice you, even as you sneak timid glances under the desk at their perfectly-sculpted thigh and how it perfectly connects to their perfectly-rounded knee, all covered in perfect, perfect tight navy blue, all sexy and cool looking, even though your uniform never looks that way and the navy clashes horribly with your zits, even though years later navy will be kind of your colour.
And how, when they ask you to help on the pre-algebra assignment, you get a little breathless with the ability to lean close, and maybe brush your shoulders together, and you think to yourself, "Jesus Christ
, Danielle smells good --
Wait. Am I gay? Is this under the definition of gay? Can you be gay at twelve?"
And who you look back on, years later, and think,
, that work was so easy. What was wrong with you, you stupid girl, that you could not understand X divided by 5 equals 3. It’s simple division! Why did I even like you? Thank god you never knew."
That. I kind of want to wallow in that. Ah, youth.
(In high school, when I did this again, but after I embraced the concept of bisexuality, I had my friends call him Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you know. In case he overheard us. This was during my obsessive Harry Potter era. Bonus anecdote: I had Remus Lupin
] on the cover of my biology textbook. The Brother who taught that class would pass my desk in the mornings and dubiously tap Remus's face with his spindley Christian Brother fingers. I chose to read that as secret Morse code admission that he was also a fan. THE MORE YOU KNOW.)
So, yeah! Twilight. Think I’m going to get me some of that.
NOT THAT I AM IN LONDON YET, silly shutterbug_12
/anyone else who did not finish reading the first paragraph before capslocking me.)
In London! It's a really darling-looking flat. One bedroom in my favourite part of Central London, one of only two flats in the building. Nice little garden in the rear. Two blocks from the tube station. Small grocer and cafe on the corner. And surprisingly affordable, despite its size and its location. The last of my paperwork just came through. Everything is coming together. I just signed and initialed and signed some more and handed over great gobs of money, and now the flat is mine! All mine! I could move in tomorrow if I wanted (but I'm not, given the whole "still State-side" thing).
Officially, now, I have an address in London! My mummy bought me gourmet cupcakes to celebrate.
I am excite, you guys. :D
So, for any of you curious to know, or interested in hanging out (wihluta
?), I'll be in London at the end of September, on the 28th. Likely I will be fairly busy the first two weeks, with the moving and the hanging of art on the walls and the buying of rugs from Ikea. (Followed closely by the sequels: the allergy attacks of Ikea and the wearing of paper masks and the flooding of eyes with water to get out the dust.) But after that, I should be interested in seeing people! Any people! I like coffee and tea, and sometimes beer, and long walks in the park. Or sitting on the sofa watching DVDs. If any of that interests you, you should hit me up.
IN MY NEW AWESOME FLAT IN LONDON.
And because I feel I must: PSA regarding LJ's thing with Facebook/Twitter:
I know you all to be awesome and conscientious so I trust that you would not cross-post any of your comments made on my journal. In return, I promise to respect the same rules on your journal, i.e. I will never cross-post comments.
However, I feel I should give a heads-up: I may, sometime in the future, begin cross-posting my posts to Twitter. That would, logically, also give people access to read any comments you make to me. My tweets are locked, and generally contain fannish content (mostly Doctor Who and Sherlock at this point) with a few real life commentaries thrown in for fun. (I'm katstpete
there; if you follow me, you'll learn awesome things like how I fix my lip ring with hardware found in the garage toolbox.) I haven't decided yet whether I will or won't cross-post. If I do (to a locked, primarily fannish account), I'll make another PSA to let you know so you may judge your actions accordingly. JUST SO YOU KNOW.
ihear: The Simpsons on the teevee
You guys, I wrote fic
! For, like, the first time all year! I am so stupidly proud of myself. It is exciting! :D
I also finally reclaimed my laptop from the evil computer guys what had it. It was a saga, man. An epic saga of woe.
Way, way back in the beginning of the month, I took my laptop in to get it souped up. I was tired of scraping by with a 40GB hard drive and less than 200MB of ram. The disc drive hadn't worked in years, and the screen, missing its screws, had become de facto detachable. IT WAS AN UNFORTUNATE LIFE, GUYS. While they were doing that, I went to vividcon
. They promise it would be ready on Tuesday once I returned.
Cue Thursday on that week, and the guy just started work on it
. He reviewed the changes I wanted made while I hobbled about the shop on my crutches, and swore to have it finished Monday, when my mum would need to pick it up as I couldn't drive. Willing to give him a second chance, I narrowed my eyes and left.
Monday came and went, my mum brought my laptop home, and I turned it on. The ram was a nice, shiny 1.5GB, but NOTHING ELSE WAS DONE. The screen was still broke, the hard drive was its miserable 40GB self, the disc drive hadn't been replaced. I returned it to the shop with sterner instructions that afternoon, with much pain in my poor broked foot.
A week later, the process repeats. I bring it home and check it out. The screen IS STILL NOT FIXED. And newly, now, the entire right side of my keyboard is dead. It's like my laptop had a stroke, and now one half of its face is drooping and sad and awful. I couldn't even log in.
Back we go to the shop, with more instructions, and questions, and demands that they find SOME OTHER DUDE, ANY OTHER DUDE to work on my computer. Days pass. We play the fun game of questions like, "Well how much does
a replacement keyboard cost?" and "Why should I pay for labour? You guys broke it; all but my colon and apostrophe key worked before."
Finally, finally, finally, another ten days later, they call me and say the computer is finished. And it works! I brought it home Thursday night, and it is lovely and cozy and safe, once more nested in my lap where it belongs. I HAVE MISSED YOU, LAPTOP. WORD DOCUMENTS! INTERNET! GIANT 180GB HARD DRIVE! Never leave me again. *clings*
So now I can be around and stuff again. :D
ihear: Modest Mouse -- Tiny Cities Made of Ashes
? Because it's, like, her birthday or something? I hate her. She made me watch this stupid film and then I found Paul McGann attractive and I was distressed. So I wrote this for her. Happy birthday, or whatever. ♥
Beta'd by shutterbug_12
, who is lovely and things. I don't apologise for the Spinal Tap reference.
Summary: Marwood pursues the insensible. Eventually it works. Sort of.
Or: ten times Marwood attempts to have off with Withnail but fails, and one time he doesn't. ( This Thing Goes to ElevenCollapse )
ihear: Modest Mouse -- Third Planet
So, this article from The Sun: Holmes was not gay... he and Watson had the first bromance
. Benedict Cumberbum and Moff discuss Sherlock, RDJ's naked chest, Doctor Who, and bromance
. It sounds like it could be awesome, but it is not. It is so
Doctor Who writer Stephen Moffat - who penned the new version which stars Martin Freeman as John Watson - enjoyed exploiting confusion over their relationship.
He said: "I don't think there is anything that suggest[s] Sherlock is gay but if he was he wouldn't fancy John.
"It's just that thing of two blokes hanging around together living together - in this nice modern world it leads to people saying, 'Oh are they a couple?'"
I don't have to say why I loathe the concept of bromance, right? You'll all get if I just sit here and wave my arms and grimace over how incredibly homophobic
and post-wave it is to insist on the Blessed Sanctity of the Heterosexual Male Relationship that only the disgusting perverts of modern society try to corrupt into -- don't look now -- something gay
. Because everyone who is queer, of course, feels perfectly comfortable and accepted being queer. No one misses representation in the media, or needs to fight for recognition. We've been there, done that, and like feminism, left that uncomfortable fad back in the 70s along with pointed-lapels and disco. We can all move on now to television programmes were men have normal, healthy, purely platonic
relationships with each other. In fact, that's new. THAT is what's revolutionary. We don't see that on television every night.
Please, Moff. I am all sorts of disturbed that I like and watch your shows now. And YOU, Benedict Cumberbum, YOU. Shame on you for slagging on other adaptations. It's unprofessional, and more, just plain not on. I, for one, did not mind one whit that RDJ took his shirt off. I like perving over the male body. It's a nice change from all the pervy images of the female body out there.
I mean, I suppose it doesn't change much. I still plan to view Holmes and Watson's relationship the way I've viewed it for years. I still plan to see Holmes as I've always seen him: an asexual, homoromantic character, sort of fail-y in love with his flatmate. But I had hopes that finally, finally this adaptation, made in the modern century, set in the modern century, would canonically allow for the Holmes I see, have seen, desperately want. But I suppose this modern century is exactly the audience Moff doesn't want watching and examining and "gay-ifying" his characters.
It's not something you can just play at, Moff. It actually does harm and enrage people who are not educated, middle-class, heterosexual white dudes. I'm part of your audience as well.
Hello! I am returneth from the wild moors of vividcon
. Actually, I've been returned for three days, but I had what I think they call "con brain" where the world is blurry and distant and much sleep is to be had.
So, a con report! That is what is required, yes? That is what people do when they return from cons. My con report is going to be a bit lacking, I think, given that, while I was at the con, it was really more in theory than in practice. hobbit_feets
and I missed most of Friday due to travel and then illness. We arrived on the distant shores of Chicago around noon on Friday, after eight hours of driving, and missing the tolls in Illinois, and sitting in traffic, and getting a bit lost on the way to the hotel. We tried to hit a vid show after lunch, but wee hobbit_feets
, she felt a bit ill, so instead we took a lazy afternoon to haul our stuff from my car to the room and get necessities (Red Bull, contact cases, batteries, etc.) from the grocery store, and generally rest ourselves so we would be at our best for Club Vivid.
Which consisted, it seemed, of drinking. And meeting people. And dancing. And shoe-less-ness. At one point, I managed to lock hobbit_feets
out of our room for the majority of the night. Also, I broke my foot.
So Saturday, we spent the day in the emergency room at Resurrection Hospital as they poked and prodded and x-rayed the living daylights out of my grapefruit-sized foot. And lo, it was proclaimed I had two broken bones (no one knows how) and a sprained ankle (no one knows how) and I should generally not walk on it or use it or drive on it, even though I was meant to drive us back in two days (no one knows how).
After that, we sort of gave the con up as a bad job. Instead, we ordered take-out and hobbit_feets
encouraged me to marathon the new series of Doctor Who (even though I have not seen the specials) and Moff's modern Sherlock Holmes (even though I am highly resistant to any adaptation of canon that does not contain Jeremy Brett). She thought I should be shone the error of my ways. And I have, f'list. Oh, I have.
Matt Smith: YESPLS.
Please to be my new fake boyfriend, adorably-hipster-ridiculous-haired-man, only you'll have to share me with Benedict
Cumberbum, which I imagine shouldn't be a problem, given that you both wear awesome coats
. I do not know if Moff's shows are surprisingly awesome or if my two months spent in the fannish doldrums have left me impressionable and desperate but I am all a-flail and in love and twelve-year-old fangirl about those two. I want to cut out pictures of them! And paste them to my walls! Or to my boot-cast-foot thing! Oh, Matt Smith. Oh, Benedict Cumberbum-whose-real-name-I-can-never-sa
y.( more, briefly, on Doctor WhoCollapse )
So that was my weekend. On Monday, we drove home, which was quite interesting and painful and may or may not have included me trying to saw off my foot in the bathroom of a gas station. Surprisingly, I still say, sincerely, "Good times, man." One day I will do a con properly, where I actually attend events and do not break my bones or alienate my roommate. But until then:
GOOD TIMES, MAN.
ihear: Lady Gaga -- Alejandro
So, you guys should all totally read this fic: Pas de deux
. Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek, Anna Trebunskaya/Jonathan Roberts. PG-13. 28,000 words. It is awesome and adorable, and as the author says, it's really more a gen fic about Evan and Anna becoming friends during DWTS than anything else.
And yes, okay, it's figure skating fic. I confess: I totally have a twelve-year-old girl's crush on Evan Lysacek. It started during the Olympics when I basically spent the entire night shouting, "Evan! EVAN!!" at the television and not remembering what his last name was, and now has culminated with watching him on Dancing With The Stars when I say things like this to hobbit_feets
me: that's totally my future boyfriend†*
me: i'm going to have his awkwardly tall and gangly babies
me: and watch them be awkwardly graceful as they run into things*
from the poor judgment and lack of coordination, you see. they inherit that from me.†
though, of course, this is totally a lie, and not because he's, like, famous and doesn't know I exist. but because I fail epically at skating and usually break bones. mostly my own but sometimes other people's. see above, re: poor judgment and lack of coordination. the best I managed at ice skating was this winter. see image below. totally not touching the wall!
ihear: Beach Boys -- Kokomo
So, I went to see Robin Hood, and oh man, ( here there be spoilersCollapse )
And now, the real news! Today was the day I found true love.
For the longest time, I was with McAfee as my anti-viral software. It began out well, as things do, but then we started to have problems: trouble seeing eye to eye, different points of view, that sort of thing. It wanted to scan my computer when it wanted to, whether I was doing something at the time or not, and I wanted it to lighten up a bit, have some fun, let me download that new file without freaking out. Things grew complicated and slow. McAfee started picking fights with Windows. Things was bad. A few weeks ago, I told it that I wanted to try things on my own for a while. I needed some space to be me again, and to repair my relationship with Windows. McAfee resisted, but it eventually got the hint when I dumped all of its files and clothes and things out the window.
Then, today, I was feeling kind of lonely and was having ad-ware problems, and that's when I ran into Norton. I had heard about Norton a few years ago from mutual friends. Not necessarily great things: a little wild, a little unreliable, not great for anything long-term. "But hey," I said to myself, "Maybe a rebound fling is just what I need. Clear up this ad-ware problem, have some laughs, and then we'll go our separate ways." It sounded good, so I invited Norton over, and man, you guys, we had the best time. Norton is awesome. Right away, my ad-ware problem was cleared up, I got a full scan in under 20 minutes (with the ability to do it on my schedule or whenever I'm idle!), and Windows even seemed chill with it. We even got into some file clean-up and disk defrag. Norton cleared off 2 gigs of space for me! Without me asking! We hadn't even known each other for twenty minutes.
I mean, it might still be the rebound mindset, but, you guys, I think I'm in love. After all the drama with McAfee, Norton is a breath of fresh air. ♥
ihear: Hans Zimmer -- Now We Are Free