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Ramblings
Thursday, November 25, 2004. 09:44 p.m.The Requisite 21st Birthday Rambling So apparently, when people have celebrated your birthday prior to the day itself, they no longer feel the need to greet you on your actual birthday. In fact, the only person besides my mom who greeted me on my birthday was Ranina. And Ranina remembering to do so is just as shocking as everyone else forgetting to. Oh, I'd be bitter, except I've been guilty of the same thing more times than I can count. :p At any rate, I had a fabulous time with my friends and family last weekend. On Saturday, I had a sushi dinner at Sugi and sang my heart out at a videoke bar with my friends. We weren't very good, but we did enjoy ourselves --- none more so than that big ol' softie Ranina, who swore she would never sing but joined in practically every number we had. Hah! And double hah! No one can resist the power of videoke! But the highlight of the evening for me (other than TinTin, Rachelle and Ranina's Backstreet Boys performance and Martin's dance number) had to be receiving my friends' gift. It wasn't just because I love getting expensive presents (though that was admittedly a large part of it). I don't usually wear perfume, mostly because I've never found a scent that I really liked. But what my friends gave me --- Givenchy's Very Irresistible --- clicked with me instantly. And it's nice to believe, even if it isn't necessarily true, that my friends knew me well enough to know I'd love it. The costume party with my family on Sunday night was just as fun. The theme was "Midsummer Night's Dream," which I'd suggested because I already had my fairy-type Delirium costume from Halloween, and it seemed more convenient to go with that. (It cut corners, sure, but it was my birthday, so I was perfectly within my rights to be a cheap bastard.) The highlight of that night was my cousin Karl coming in his fairy costume --- his mom's black jersey halter top. Heeheehee! And also, ew. Karl has the manliest physique, so you can just imagine what he looked like. It occurs to me now that I'm the only person in my generation of cousins who still holds birthday parties. I'm not sure whether to be triumphant or ashamed. Twenty-one, after all, is too old to still be having birthday parties --- though so is twenty, nineteen, eighteen, etc., and that didn't stop me. All the same, I think this will be my last birthday party for a while. Parties invariably end up costing my mom a bundle, and if I'm going to pretend to be an adult, I should start by making cost-saving decisions. In other news, I just finished reading books one through eleven of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, which my mom got for me. (Yay, Ma!) These are some of the most fun books I've ever read. Besides entertaining me, they prove what I already know: that the majority of people --- adults and children alike --- are either rotten, boring or weak.  It makes me all the more grateful that the people in my
life all rock the casbah. Awoo-hoo!
In other news, Lost has been pre-empted by the season finale of the Bachelor. Gah! Lost withdrawal! Help meeeeeeeeeeeee! To make matters worse, the episode that was pre-empted was Claire's flashback ep, in which she may or may not go into labor and may or may not die. The suspense is killing me. I have a list of things to do while waiting for the new Lost ep to air, but I've already gone through half of it. *eye twitches in anticipation of true Lost withdrawal* And in the Lamest News Ever That I Still Feel Compelled to Share, I found a gigantic potato chip in a bag of V-Cut earlier today. It was about the size of my hand, minus the fingers. Granted, I have fairly small hands, but it was still a pretty big potato chip. I then foolishly left the open bag of potato chips on the couch to go check my email. In the few minutes I was gone, Wolverine stuck his tiny, filthy head into the bag and made off with the giant potato chip. It would have been better if he'd just taken the entire bag, but oh, no, he took only the giant potato chip I'd been preserving all that time in order to be able to eat it last. He knew I'd been saving that potato chip, and he stole it! He stole it specifically! That rat fink! To add insult to injury, he didn't even try to hide his crime from me. He just stood there right in front of me, leisurely eating my giant potato chip and licking his dirty little chops afterwards. Graaaaaaaah! Kill! Kill! Ehem. Yes, I really am twenty-one years old. Thanks for asking. *slinks off to hide in a corner* KILL!!! 'Ships Ahoy I've mentioned that Lost is my new obsession, right? Good. Well, the funny thing about it is, a huge part of my love for the show has to do with the all-too adorable Charlie / Claire pairing. Now, as anyone who knows me can testify, my favorite 'ships (Spike / Angel, Galadriel / Celebrimbor, etc.) are usually dark, brooding, dysfunctional, disturbing and vaguely incestuous. (At the very least, they contain a healthy amount of angst --- Faramir / Éowyn, for example, or Ultimate Storm / Angel). The Charlie / Claire 'ship, however, is none of those things. It's fluff in a peanut butter jar. It's fuzzy white bunnies and sugary goodness. It's too damn cute. Most of all, it's as un-angsty as it is possible for any TV show relationship to be. And yet I am completely, unreservedly, addictively, over the moon in love with it. And I'm at a loss to understand why. It may be my lingering affection for the characters the actors portrayed before (Dominic Monaghan: Merry Brandybuck from the Lord of the Rings movies; Emilie de Ravin: Tess Harding from Roswell). But truthfully, though I liked the character of Merry, I never loved him with the same fervor as I did Sam, Pippin and Faramir. And I was never really an avid watcher of Roswell. So what could it be? If I had to hazard a guess, the reason I'm so invested in the Charlie / Claire relationship is because it's a welcome relief from the intensity, tension and, yes, high amounts of angst on the show. Separately, they're very dramatic characters (at least Charlie is --- though if the spoilers and promotional photos for the upcoming episodes are any indication, Claire could very well be one too). But together, they just... are. They're natural, easygoing, even optimistic. It's definitely worth noting that with the other castaways, Charlie is emotionally needy and desperate for attention and recognition. But with Claire, he's just himself. And with her, he gets to be the caregiver, instead of the useless dead weight he perceives himself to be when he's with the other castaways. Methinks the lovely mother-to-be is doing wonders for the hobbit's bruised and battered ego. Also worth noting is the fact that he hasn't used his, "I'm in a band," line with her, like he has with every other castaway he's hit on. Maybe he knows he doesn't have to. And Claire, for her part, seems to really enjoy Charlie's attentions. Well, who wouldn't? At any rate, I suppose I should be afraid. Very afraid. As I see it, there's simply no way such an angst-free relationship would be allowed to flourish on a show like Lost. Those mean, nasty writers are probably plotting to kill off my wonderful, sunny Claire as we speak. *sobs* After all, it wouldn't do for anyone on the show to actually be happy, would it? And since it's already been confirmed that one of the main characters will die before the end of the season, I find myself getting increasingly nervous whenever I'm too happy about the Charlie / Claire scenes getting thrown our way. I swear, this show has me sitting on pins and needles. I can't stand it, I just can't stand it. *wrings hands nervously* Let it be known, however, that if either Charlie or Claire bites the big one, I will be very, very angry. And Lost writers? You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Edited to add: I just saw the episode description and promo pics for episode 1x11, "All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues." They're so going to kill off Claire. Rat bastards! *weeps* Hooray for Shiny New Fandoms! I've picked up a new obsession: Lost, the fantastic new series from ABC. To inaugurate my new fandom, I've written a drabble (that's an extremely short story, for those unfamiliar with fan fiction lingo) about one of the show's most neglected characters: Vincent, the adorable yellow Labrador. And here's the link: Vigilant. Enjoy! Or not. Edited to add: Vigilant has received nine reviews in two days. That's more feedback than I've ever gotten for my other stories. And this was one was 144 words about a dog. Isn't that damned funny? 
Alas and Alack! On a whim, I decided to try my hand at writing fan fiction with graphic het. God, is it an awful mess. I suddenly have a newfound respect for fan fic authors who are able to write readable erotica, because apparently writing explicit but character driven sex scenes that don't make you cringe is very, very difficult. (That still doesn't make it excusable for tweens to post eye-sporkingly bad Harry Potter slash fics on the Internet, though.) At any rate, unless I'm magically able to repair my muddled attempt at NC-17 fiction, that story (heh --- story) will never see the light of day. I may be an utterly miserable failure as a writer of erotica, but I'm not bitter enough to scar the fan fic community by publishing it on the Internet. I'd like to think I'm a little more gracious than that. *insert head-buried-in-sand smiley here* It's too bad, though. The premise was strong enough for the story to actually work and, as far as I know, no one has written anything like it before. I think I just need to get a better grasp of the characters. Right now, all I've really got is smut with very few redeemable qualities.  Ah, well.
I'm off to try, try again. And beat myself over the head when that doesn't work.
On a somewhat related and squicky note, my poor little dog is horny. And since I've expressly forbidden him contact with Dooky, his former mate and ertswhile mother of his unplanned litter of pups, Wolverine has had no suitable outlet for his pent-up feelings of sexual frustration. (And yes, that's "outlet" in every sense of the word.) As a result, he's been howling despairingly into the night and having the occasional shaking fit. He also sulks quite a bit, demands extra attention from his masters and stares out the window longingly, as though Dooky will suddenly appear on the other side of the glass pane. Bloody drama queen. But at least he hasn't tried to hump the furniture. Thank God for small mercies, right? Writing Woes I'm feeling especially pouty today. Two weeks ago, I firmly resolved to finish my in-progress fan fics, which were languishing in Unwritten Hell. And today, I finally sat down in front of the computer to try to do just that. I came up with bupkis. Which is really, really frustrating, because I have the stories mapped out in my head (including snippets of dialogue and narrative), but I'm somehow unable to accomplish the simple task of writing them down. And they're such good stories, too. (Well, as good as X-Men fan fiction can get, anyway. :p) What's wrong with me? *beats head against computer desk* Maybe I just need to get some sleep. After all, I've only had about four hours of sleep today, and I don't function very well without my full twelve hours of beddy-bye time. Yeah, that's it. Sleeeep. Sleep is good. Must go to sleeeep... Hey, I just remembered! I'm turning 21 in about forty days. ... AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHH! Who Says You Can't Be a Kid Again? My mom's officemate opened up a Filbar's franchise in Market, Market. Despite its distance from our home, I've decided to switch over to it. Filbar's ATC is just way overpriced, not to mention tardy. The new arrangement will consist of me emailing my pull list to Tito Carlo, and Tito Carlo giving my comics to Mama when they meet at the office. Unfortunately, this means I can no longer disguise the sheer volume of funny books that I buy. Heh. Oh, well. At least I don't have to put down a deposit for each of the comics and trades I get, since Tito Carlo knows that Mama's good for it. Of course, despite the fact that I'm no longer happy with Filbar's ATC's services, I still feel a little guilty for jumping ship. After all, the people there were nice to me, even though I made one of the owners' wife / salesperson cry that one time. Freaking wuss. *clears throat* Anyway, as a sort of parting gift (even though I'm paid up for all my comics until October, which means I'll be getting my comics from Filbar's ATC for the next month or so), I let the salespeople "talk" me into a buying the outrageously overpriced Marvel Legends Deadpool action figure, complete with a sexy Doop sidekick. Heehee! Two lovably funny, dangerous and deadly action figures in one package. I love it, I absolutely love it! I took a picture of it, which you can check out here. It's an awful shot, though. I still haven't decided whether or not I should take the figures out of the box (thereby diminishing their monetary value but providing me with hours of action figure fun), so the plastic's reflecting off the light. Also, I can't take a good picture to save my life. A gallery of high quality Deadpool and Doop action figure photos can be found here. Now, about the figures themselves... Deadpool's got 40 points of articulation, so we know right from the off that he's not some half-assed action figure that was slapped together by an uncaring designer. I love that he's armed to the teeth. He's got his trademark pair of katanas, four grenades, a pair of Uzis, an automatic pistol and a pair of sais. Best of all, there are holsters and sheaths for each of his weapons, so I won't go around losing the smaller pieces (unless I'm careless, which I'm not --- especially with my action figures). Woo-hoo! Also, the package contains the separate, unmasked, madly grinning and scary ass head of Wade Wilson, which I can switch with his masked head. And according to a review of the figure, he can actually reach behind his back to pull out any of the weapons strapped to it. Double woo-hoo! 'Pool is begging to be played with. I think I might have to open the box after all. The articulation of the Doop figure is limited to its shoulders. Let's face it, there's not a whole lot you can do with a floating green blob. However, its attention to detail (such as it is) is fantastic. The figure has Doop's knobby head, pink eyes (including bags underneath it!) and X-Statix logo down pat. I absolutely adore it. I only wish he had more expression on his face. Otherwise, it's too, too cool. There's even a transparent stand that Doop can be attached to, to make him look like he's floating in midair (just like his comic book counterpart). And speaking of their comic book counterparts, I hereby demand a Doop and Deadpool ongoing series, with Foggy Nelson guest starring as the duo's attorney. I don't believe for a moment that Doop really died in the X-Statix finale. It's Doop, for crying out loud! He beat up Wolverine! He chopped up that poor X-Statix wannabe, Corkscrew! He threw down with Thor Odinson, Asgardian god of thunder! No way is he dead. Long live Doop! Love live Doop! Ehem. Is that my sanity running away from me at 80mph? I guess I better go and, er, try to catch it. Toodles! *zip* Rite of Passage Yikes. According to the date of my last rambling, I haven't updated Going to Hell in a Handbag in one hundred and two days. That's gotta be some kind of record (for me, at least). My poor, neglected baby. *pats site lovingly*. Well, I'm back, and with tidings of, er, nearly nothing. My mom and John Lesure have decided to get married. Surprisingly enough, I'm okay with it. I could even be happy for them if I was actually selfless enough to be happy for anyone . He seems like a good guy (though Tita Grace
has insisted on a background check --- wily woman, that Tita Grace), he makes my mom happy, he likes me and Wolverine, and
he's willing to move to the Philippines. Bonus.
In other news, my friends and I attempted to go out clubbing last weekend for the very first time in our collective lives. We're not the clubbing and drinking type, you see. We're the movie-watching, quiet restaurant talking, light bantering while bumming around the mall type. In retrospect, I probably would have enjoyed myself if I didn't have a ridiculously painful outer ear infection at the time. On the upside, I looked pretty damn good for someone who wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and roll over in pain. On the downside, after taking too quick a swill of a quarter of a glass of Merlot, I ended up losing my dinner. Four times. Apparently, I have the constitution of a six year old. (It may have something to do with the fact that I'm only slightly bigger than most well-grown six year olds.) But I'm glad it happened, if for no other reason than I know now never to consume the smallest milliliter of alcohol ever again. The puppies are doing great in their new homes. They're over four months old now, and every single one of them is still alive. Hurrah! Éowyn is with Ninski, and they both adore each other. Sharona is with Tita Grace, Morgaine with our old maid Ate Lea, and Hero and Seven of Nine with my Tita Shirley and Tita Pi. I still wish I could have kept Hero, though. Her antics probably would have caused me to have an aneurysm, but I do so love lively and feisty dogs. Now, onto the reason for my unforgivable, albeit temporary, desertion of Going to Hell in a Handbag. I was busy building and updating my other two websites. They're nowhere near as nice as what Nina's done here, but they're not half-bad for someone who knows jack about html. Ehem. May I now present for your viewing pleasure(?)... The Aerie: A Beak Fan Site, and... Nytie's Den, Version 4. Now, since I know nothing about the more modern website making and photo editing techniques, I had to do a lot of things the hard way. And, yes, I realize that the sites are still located at Geocities with the ugly drop down ads, but I'm too cheap to shell out money for my babies when I'm still learning how to build semi-decent websites. As soon as I've studied the language more and acquired good software, I'll see about moving to a paid, advertising-free site. That way, I can stop freeloading off of Nina. It really is getting embarrassing. One last thing before I cut out of here. For Halloween, my friends and I are dressing up as the Endless, from Neil Gaiman's The Sandman. And I'm going to be the utterly adorable and loopy Delirium! It ought to be fun, especially since Del's my favorite Sandman character. Quotable Quote: When you say words a lot, they don't mean anything. Or maybe they don't mean anything anyway, and we just think they do. (Delirium, The Sandman: Brief Lives) That seems as good a way as any to close a rambling. |
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