It looks like the company I work for, Conglomo, has recently been
In the best case scenario, we'll all just keep on truckin along like we've been doing, except with a different name. In the worst-case scenario...
Yeah. D-:
But hey, how about Leverage last night? Still awesome, huh? How's about that Christian Kane? What a cutie. *Pinches his cheeks*
Pardon me now while I do the Dance of Unemployment Denial and indulge in some magical thinking. Everything is fine and will continue to be fine la la laaaaa....
- Mood:
Nervous - Music:Ico OST-Castle in the Mist
- Mood:
blah - Music:Panic At the Disco-Northern Downpour
You know, everytime Billy Mays would come on tv and bellow at us about OxiClean or whatever product he was touting, Sister or Brother, or myself, would look at each other and shout back variations of
"HI, I'M BILLY MAYS, TALKING LOUDER THAN ANYO
Billy Mays, OxiClean Pitchman, found dead.
And if you believe, as my family does, that deaths come in threes, this is either the end of a cycle, or the beginning of a whole new one. La la la not looking not listening go away CNN la la la...*Fingers in ears*
EDIT: Annnnd, I'm a magoo: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, MARIGOLD!:-) *Showers you with virtual cookies*
- Mood: Again, surprised
- Music:Dido-Don't Believe in Love
Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, both on the same day?
I remember having childhood squabbles with Sister, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and we had three whole tv channels (two if the wind was blowing,) about which Angel on 'Charlie's Angels' was prettier. (I think we both agreed that Jaclynn Smith was prettiest, but Farrah Fawcett had the best hair.) I can't feel too terribly sorry for the woman: She had sixty-two years on planet Earth, which is a whole lot more than either my maternal grandfather or paternal grandmother got. But cancer? Damn.
I remember hovering over the radio with my sister, trying not to miss one single minute of Thriller when the long version was played. I sat on the bleachers in high school after lunch having Very Serious Discussions with other girls about which singer was more talented (and hotter) Prince or Michael Jackson. I thought Prince was too weird then. Little did I know that Michael Jackson would ultimately lap the man in overall weirdittude. And he just kept getting weirder. But...damn.
Someone once said that childhood/youth is the kingdom where no one ever dies. Damn. I feel suddenly, strangely, older now.
- Mood: surprised
- Music:HelloGoodbye-Here in Your Arms
Name fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you, and don't take too much time to think about it (the first fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes). Copy this into your own post.
1. Watership Down
3. The Lucifer Effect*
4. The Hobbit
5. The Lord of the Rings
6. The Silmarillion
7. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
8. Flowers for Algernon
9. The Diary of Anne Frank
10. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
11. The Lovely Bones
12. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
13. Son of the Morning Star
14. Cold Mountain**
15. The Gargoyle***
*A book describing the Stanford Prison Experiment, written by the professor who created it, and also goes into detail about the abuses at Abu Ghraib. Don't read this unless you want any faith you have in humanity to be ripped to shreds.
**Sticks with me in an entirely bad way. I loathed the ending so much that I can never forget it, and it spoiled everything I had been enjoying about the book before. Passer-by, if you ever read it, you know why.
***Broke my heart, but in a natural, this-was-meant-to-be, unforced way, not in such a way that I wanted to set the book on fire and hurl it out the back door...like, say, I wanted to with Cold Mountain.
- Mood:
chilled from the AC - Music:Shine Down-Second Chance
Then Sister calls: "Why are you not at work? Didn't you have to work?" in a slightly accusatory tone, as if she thought I might have played hookey today and not told her. Once I explained she was all, "Wanna go to the movies?" YAY, :-D says I. Then she says, "We can see Land of the Lost!" D-: Boo. And I really didn't want to, so I declined. I had a hard time convincing her that no, I don't hate Will Ferrel, (hey, I loved 'Anchorman', ) I just don't care to see a movie that I know is sure to pee all over many happy Saturday-morning childhood memories.
Now I'm sitting here in the lovely AC, and soon I will go up and devour some pea salad. It's turned very hot and humid very suddenly, and supposedly bad weather is on the way, and so my father is...mowing the grass. Cause we want the yard to look good when the news teams come to film our mangled corpses after the tornado? No, I dunno, either.
EDIT: And now I find out she changed her mind, and took her spawn and went to see 'Up' instead. *Headslap*
- Mood:
cool - Music:The TingTings-That's Not My Name<--KILL IT WITH FIRE:-[
In conclusion: Oog.
- Mood:
*Snaaarf*
Well, not really.
I had a godawful nightmare last night that woke me out of a sound sleep...
( Southland meets Supernatural in the theatre of my brain. )
Oh, my brain, you are so entertaining sometimes. Yeah, I can laugh at it now, but I had to turn on the light and hug my cat before I could go back to sleep. And then I was still so jittery when I woke up that I careened into the blanket chest on my way to the alarm clock and gouged a giant bloody furrow in my leg, now nicely accented by the gargantuan black and purple bruise all around it.
Tomorrow night, Ben and Coop frolicking with puppies and kitties and rainbow unicorns, subconscious. *Stern face*
- Mood:
amused - Music:Keane- Your Eyes Open
In the wee hours of this morning there was a brief but really frightening and noisy storm, hail and wind and driving sheets of rain, and lightning POWPOWPOW like flashbulbs in God's camera exploding. I woke up and closed my bedroom window, then crawled back into bed and in pretty rapid succession I dreamed:
That my entire family was gathered together and we were all packing everything we owned, in a terrible rush to escape...something.
Then it morphed into dreamme at work, being very, very busy and trying to get as much done as possible before it was time to leave, except that I went over my scheduled hours and got autoclocked. I decided to go down the hall to Manager E. and ask her if I had to make a time-exception sheet or do it on the computer and could she do it for me cause I wanted to goooo hoooome *whiiiine* Except that Manager E. was using the computer, so I caught Manager L. and whiiiined and whiiiined and the last I saw of her in the dream she was running away from me with her hands over her ears, while I chased after her. I'm not only pretty sure L. wouldn't flee from me like that, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't chase her, and I've never whined like that (at work, at least,) in my life. Pouted a tad, on occasion, yes. Whined, no.
Then I was sitting at my kitchen table making out a bill, in a terrible hurry because the bill was overdue and the mail-lady was coming and I had to get out to the mailbox with it and I. Just. Couldn't. Write. Fast. Enough. Arrrgh.
There's some kind of dream-theme going on there.
Then I woke up, got dressed, and went to the bank drive-thru, which had no electricity because of the storm, and had a dialogue with the teller made up of her silenty moving lips and my flailing hands, until I realized they had no electricity and therefore no speaker, and I had not put my signature on my deposit slip. Oops.
I went to the store afterwards wearing my lovely new shoes, which nearly gave me blisters though I barely moved, and got some Pepsi and pouted because there was no Mountain Dew Throwback.
Then I opened the sunroof on my lovely car with its lovely cd player, and blasted 'Knights of Cydonia' all the way home. The end.
- Mood:
accomplished - Music:Drowning Pool-Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
If for no other reason than to prove to the internet that, yes, even without new episodes of Supernatural to spaz about, I am still capable of speech, er, typing. Posting. Whatever. So.
Okaaay, I think I'm gonna go
- Mood: bored
- Music:Kelly Clarkson-My Life Would Suck Without You
Last night I had a dream that I was trapped in a haunted house with Sam Winchester. Yay?
But hey, Southland is on tonight! Violence! Swearing! (kinda) And nudity! (Sort of.) (At least two) attractive cops in squad cars! With guns! Maybe I'll get lucky and Michael Cudlitz will take off his shirt;-)
- Mood:
*Hides* - Music:The Decemberists-Sixteen Military Wives
Coworker K, at work often buys boxes of random books at yardsales and suchlike, and he gave a box to Sister, who gave it to Mom. She said I could have whatever I wanted out of it, of course, and imagine my excitement when I found a small book of Latin quotations, and Foxes Book of Martyrs. (I squee’d out loud. My Mom just nodded. "I thought you’d want that.") I also found some reference books, and Oedipus, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone in one volume, which I was slightly less excited about, but yeah, I’ll read them, too. Cause, you know, huge bookish nerd and all.
I feel a bit like blathering some more about Supernatural. I can’t promise coherency. Towards the end I was either hiding in my shirt, on the phone with my similarly obsessed sister ("Yeah, I think that…SHUTUPSHOW’SONBYENOW.") or blinded by the big sparkly hearts that were suddenly bursting out of my every orifice. They said ILOVEBOBBYSINGER and DEAN&SAM4EVER in giant letters. In glitter. Seriously embarrassing- it looked like Hello Kitty exploded. I’m still sweeping them up.
( Supernatural: Lucifer Rising. Filled with SPOILERS, and wherein it is seen that Citrine's emotional perspective and mental maturity has been left in the dust. )
*Explodes in a cloud of rainbow glitter and crepe-paper hearts* Well, crap. *Sweeps*
- Mood: busy
OH BOBBY. Bobby Bobby Bobby. My practical, tough as nails, Winchester-ass kicking, grungy trucker-cap wearing hero. Yea, verily, your total flannelly it's a word! awesomeness never fails. I love you so much. Please be my favorite pretend uncle. We'll go fishing.
I don't have time to chat-eeek! I'm missing Southland!- but....
( Supernatural: Lucifer Rising SPOILERS INSIDE )
*Exhales* I think I can make it through the next few months now.
- Mood:
*exhales*
To my maternal grandmother, gone these many years, a teenage mother who gave birth in the country on a farm in the middle of the Great Depression, to a twelve pound baby, my uncle, and very nearly died of it. She was warned to never attempt to have another child, but she dared and had my mom, which is why I'm here. Thanks, Granny. I really miss you.
And my own mother, a not-very-wide-in-the-hips woman who gave birth naturally without drugs every time, the first time in a doctor's office. The third time she was in the hospital, fortunately, because (sorry, this is gross,) I was breech and the doctor had to sort of shove me back up in there and untangle my foot from her innards. *Wince* Sorry, Mom. I'm giving you a gift you really enjoyed when I gave it to you a few years ago: The last word. I know I have a sharp tongue and you don't get that from me much, so. *Hands it over* Here. Love you bunches, Momsey.
To Oldest Sister, ten years older than me. You mothered me, too:-)
To Older Sister, who dared to have another baby twenty years after her first, when her blood pressure shot through the roof and she came thisclose to a stroke. You really aren't doing as bad you think at this motherhood thing, Sissy. Relax. *Hugs and kisses*
And on a side note because I just remembered, this day is also my Dad's birthday, which I totally forgot about. Oops? Sorry, Daddy. I fail at daughterhood, apparently. >_< Happy birthday:-)
- Mood:
awake
Work wasn't particularly strenuous today, just reeeeaaally boring. And of course, that lingering "DAMN YOU KRIPKE, er, SERA GAMBLE, DAMN YOU TO HECK," blue funk of leftover Supernatural angst didn't help. Luckily the intercom music at work was pretty heavily into mid-nineties pop, because the merest hint of classic mullet-rock would have tempted me put my head in the toilet and swirly myself into unconsciousness.
But I think I can talk about it a little now.
( Supernatural: When the Levee Breaks. Spoilers and general wibbling under the cut. )
Holy crap. This was well-written, beautifully shot, heart-breakingly well-acted. Emmys all around. Sweet Jesus, I need a drink. But Southland was really good, I really enjoyed it. Yay, Southland. *Cries again*
- Mood:
melancholy
D: D: D: D:
More on this later. Maybe. Gotta collect all the scattered peices of my broken heart first.
Show, you now owe me about frickety-nillion episodes of nothing but Sam and Dean hugging at the Grand Canyon. Just letting you know.
T__T
- Mood: crushed
And oh dear. The bios of the recent favoriter..ers. Was I ever that young? I kind of want to give them all grateful cookies and tuck them into bed, but I must go soak my teeth now. *Is decrepit*
- Mood: Older by the minute
- Music:Modest Mouse-Little Motel
...because anything coherent was blasted out of my head by the last shot (noooooo) and the promo afterwards (AUGH).
Dear Kripke: This whole season has been like one giant, torturous, emotional Indian Wrist-burn for the fandom. ("Hey, ya think that hurts? Well, how about this? And THIS?") And you know that, don't you? You're pretty much grubbing our faces in the playground dust and chortling, arent you?
( Supernatural: The Rapture. Spoilers inside, of course. )
PS. Kripke, just take the friggin lunch money already! Ow! Ow! Uncle! Uuuunnncle!
- Mood: anxious
SHE"LL BE FORTY-TWO. *ahem* Anyway, I have to go upstairs and make her cake, and then I'll be watching Supernatural (Sam and Dean even if they aren't TeamSamandDean anymore:-{ Yay!) and then Southland (Team Ben and Coop! Wheeee!) so I better make this snappy.
So, here ends National Poetry Month. It's been a blast. *sigh*
( Frost at Midnight )
- Mood: chipper
And National Poetry Month is almost over:-(
More poetry, from the Song of Solomon, because I love me some King James Version:
Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee...
Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.
*Fans self* Here, read the whole thing.
- Mood: Blushing
- Music:Bad Company-Bad Company
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