ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
Brain: HEY.

Me: Oh, Christ.


Me: Right, yeah, that sounds-


Me: ... Why?


Me: Hm. I do hate that one light.


Me: But, wait, Brain, this just doesn't scan. I'm a loser if I DON'T get it because that means I've failed. I'm a loser if I DO get it because it will be a kind of boring office job instead of My Calling™. But really, couldn't you turn both of those sentiments around? Like, I'm not a loser if I DON'T get it because hooray, I will still be free to look for work in my field! But I'm also not a loser if I DO get it, because hooray, a job that pays well, and that I can LITERALLY QUIT AT ANY TIME! That makes at least as much sense, and makes me feel way better about myself. Can't we go with that?

Brain: WE COULD.

Me: Well, that's grea-

Brain: BUT WE WON'T.

Me, sighing deeply: Of course we won't.
ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
I legit cannot remember if I have ever mentioned this here before, but I have a Tumblr! It is mostly full of puns, yelling, gifs from fandoms in which I have never participated, and spotty superfluous details about my life. You should add me unless you never want to hear about any of that shit ever.
ishyface: (a good place to think about the future)
Chapter Six is now up! I added in that gif mostly because I rewatched Hot Fuzz last night and it was as gay as I recalled.
ishyface: (everyone's so intimately rearranged)

{Take the 100 Things challenge!}

Perhaps this'll be a good way to force myself back into blogging about every goddamn thing in my life ever. Even if it doesn't, it should be fun while it lasts.

My subject is 100 Things I Really Really Like (Plus Stories). These things could be songs, books, memories, philosophies, quotes, food, animals, and pretty much anything else I feel like throwing into the mix. (I'm keeping my topic deliberately vague so I can write about whatever. It's like being a freshman all over again.) I get pretty enthusiastic about crap I like, so expect! lots! of! exclamation! points!
ishyface: (Default)
Chapter Four is now up! George Cooper: still creepy, gettin' creepier.

The Missus and I (plus a mutual friend) went to see The Hunger Games last night, and WERE WE NOT ENTERTAINED?! (We were, in fact!) Cinna and Haymitch were my favourites in the books and they continued to be my favourites on screen, but more so because Woody Harrelson and also Lenny Kravitz forever. I am weirded out that the dudes they got to play Peeta and Gale are being marketed as teen heartthrobs now, though. Those were the derpiest faces that ever hurr'd a durr.

Also: Wes Bentley's beard. I want one.
ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
I've recently discovered a blog called Adulting, in which an intrepid reporter gives advice on how to behave like, well, an adult. It occasionally has some advice I disagree with- no one but no one is going to take away my goddamn posters, okay? I don't CARE if it's "college-y"- and there's this weird recurring Joan Holloway idolization that weirds me out*, but it is generally a very useful resource that has taught me some interesting tidbits. (Example: did you know you can put damp sponges in the microwave to get rid of bad sponge smells? Well, now you do!)

It's made me start thinking about things I do (or would like to start doing!) that make me feel like an adult, in that happy, cozy, I-am-not-the-fuckup-I-figured-I'd-be-when-I-was-thirteen-and-thinking-about-my-impending-adulthood way. Here are some of them:

1. Making lists. I make a fuck of a lot of lists. To Do lists, grocery lists, music lists, invite lists, clothing lists, lists of names for the hypothetical children my ladyfriend and I might eventually want to have.** Lists are quick, easy, and give your life that extra organizational boost you (and I) probably need.

2. Taking out the garbage the night before garbage day. Full disclosure: I did this for the first time last night and it was AWESOME. What seems to take forever first thing in the morning takes roughly five seconds at night, and then you don't have to worry about getting up early to catch the garbage truck. \o/

3. Taking your beer bottles to be recycled. Amy and I drink a lot. This is probably not news to anyone who's seen that elbow licking video, but, yeah, we do. For the past year or so we had roughly forty boxes of empties just stacked in corners, like that unwelcome guest who is still in your living room when 4 A.M. rolls around. A few weeks ago we lugged the lot of them to the local corner store to be recycled and got a whopping eleven dollars back for our trouble.*** It was like we were being paid to clear out our kitchen.

4. Making tea in a pot. This could also be "owning a tea pot," since there are few things that make you feel as delightfully, tweely adult as owning a tea pot. Using it is even better, though! Using a tea pot to make tea means that you get tea (which is a plus because tea), and also everyone around you gets tea (which is a plus because you seem very sweet and thoughtful while enjoying your own delicious tea). There are no losers in situations involving tea pots.

5. Doing the dishes immediately after meals. Because the only alternative is rummaging in your cupboard for a bowl and slowly realizing that every single one you own is in the sink under ten thousand encrusted soup tureens.

6. Setting time aside to do housework. This is an adult thing that I was very committed to as a preteen. Every Saturday would see me meticulously tidying my room (this routine included dusting and vacuuming), scouring my hamster's cage, and cleaning the backyard. And then I would sit down and eat donuts and reread Through The Looking-Glass. True story! Now that I have a job and also friends and a life I usually can't commit the exact same day and length of time every week to cleaning, but I still try to make sure I schedule at least a little time every week.

7. Getting things tailored. This is one of those things I'd like to start doing. Due to recent weight gain I've gotten rid of a lot of clothes I actually really liked, and have only recently discovered that I could have gotten half that shit fixed to fit my new voluminous ass. Also, apparently these days they actually hem your jeans so they don't get all gross and raggedy where you step on them! SOLD.

8. Eating breakfast. I hate breakfast. Like, really fucking hate it. When I get up in the morning all I want to do is drink tea and stare blearily at my computer screen waiting for the world to make sense. However, I started eating breakfast a few months ago (because I am taking vitamins and if you take them on an empty stomach you are guaranteed a one-way ticket to Pukeville), and you know what? It makes me more alert! I have more energy! I am more cheerful and less likely to be mopey about the fact that I am up early! It is sad that it took me twenty three years to figure this out, but now I know, and breakfast is a regular occurrence for me. I may hate having to choke down a NutriBar while the rest of the world snoozes madly on, but it beats being cranky and listless all day.

9. Keeping up with the news. Another thing I'd really like to start doing (but haven't yet). Newspapers, the evening news, blogs and websites- there are a hell of a lot of ways to keep up with current events and not feel like a dumbass when people talk about them in front of you.**** Also, your Tumblr dash is not a legitimate news outlet, ELLIOTT. GOD.

10. Keeping the medicine cabinet stocked. A word to the wise: when you run out of any item in your medicine cabinet, replace it immediately. It is vey tempting to look at whatever you've run out of, think "oh, I won't need that for a long time," and promptly forget about it... until a few days later when you desperately need that thing and all local stores are closed. Think you don't need more Aspirin? Congratulations, here's a migraine. Feel like you can go a few days without Pepto-Bismol? Enjoy your heartburn! Use the last Band-Aid and blithely throw away the box? I guarantee you will lose an appendage in a meat grinder the next day. Keep your medicine cabinet full at all times and you will never find yourself walking thirty minutes to an all-night convenience store at three in the morning to buy a ten-dollar bottle of Tylenol.

What makes you feel like an adult, flist?

* It weirds me out when anyone idolizes Joan Holloway, to be honest. Yes, Joan is foxy and occasionally funny, but she is also mean as fuck and tends to lash out at the people beneath her when her life is shitty. Which is most of the time, because she is a woman in the sixties who married her rapist. If you love her clothes or her wit or whatever, fair enough, but if you want to model yourself after her, as a lot of people seem to want to do, I totally do not get your deal and think you are a little weird. I feel the same way about people who are super into Britta from Community. She is the WORST, guys, WHY DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH HER.

** My current favourite is "Matilda."

*** I then used this to buy a cheap bottle of red wine. I am nothing if not consistent.

**** Is there anything worse than that burny-face feeling you get when someone asks you a question about a current headline that you not only know nothing about, but did not even know existed? Well... yes. There are a lot of things worse than that, like genocide and famine and malaria and school shootings. It's embarrassing, is what I'm saying.
ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
"Twenty-three!" said Diana when I told her, in a kind of delight. "What a really glorious age that is! With your youth still hot upon you, like a lover in a pant; and time with his face around the curtain, peeping on."

Happy birthday to Shere Hite, and Queen Sofia, and David Schwimmer, and Nelly, and kd lang, and Marie Antoinette, and ME.
ishyface: (Default)
(No, this is not the Life Update you are looking for. It is coming, I swear! I need to tell you all about what an exciting time I'm having working two jobs and eating granola! Just... not today.)

Let's say I was planning on making a snark/nostalgia review book based on a series of books I read as a child, a la BSC Revisited.*

Would you be interested in reading about

a. the Animorph books;
b. Tamora Pierce (Tortall and Emelan); or
c. some other series I love(d) but happen to not remember at the moment?

* I'd probably have to tweak the format a little, especially if I was reviewing Tamora Pierce books- they are too fucking long for single-post updates/reactions. I like the idea of contrasting my nostalgic reaction with my current reaction, though.
ishyface: ('cause today i found my friends)
Last night Amy and I went out to dinner with her mum, her ex-stepfather, and her stepbrothers. It was going quite well overall- there was wine and pasta and at one point the stepbrothers were yelling about their sister, who lives in Ottawa and seems to be universally hated, and it's always interesting to get a sudden window into other people's family drama- and then I had a conversation I've had more times than is strictly necessary. Which is to say, at all.

One of her stepbrothers was cold, and asked if anyone had a jacket he could borrow. I wasn't cold, and he looked kind of sad and puppylike, so I gave him mine. It's a green jacket with a yellow smiley face button on the lapel. He noticed it after a few minutes and asked- slurring a little because we were most of the way through a bottle at that point- what it was.

"It's a smiley face button," I said.

He shook his head. "It should be an anti-immigration button," he said.

Please note: we were not talking about immigration. We had not been talking about immigration the whole evening. As I recall, the last thing this gentleman and I had actually spoken about was his partner, Steven, and how they might be breaking up soon. So I suppose immigration was just on his mind, and he wanted to have a good long gumflap about how much he didn't like it. Or something.

I said, "My mother's an immigrant."

Now, in this conversation, saying that a person close to you (a family member or spouse for preference, although sometimes a close friend or coworker is good enough) is an immigrant has one of two results. Either 1) the person gets very embarrassed and backtracks, often naming all the perfectly lovely people they know who are immigrants, or 2) they ask where exactly the person is from. Which this gentleman did.

"The UK," I replied.

The gentleman made a face I've seen a fair few times during this conversation. When I tell people that my mother is an immigrant, they tend to assume I mean that she is not white, because that is the picture they have filed inside their head under "immigrant." An immigrant is a person of colour, or at least a delightfully "ethnic" shade of white. (Like a kooky Greek, maybe, or a fiery Italian.) The face is a sort of relieved grimace, an oh-thank-God-I-thought-you-might-be-one-of-them expression.

"Oh, well, that's different," he said. "That's not the kind of immigration I was talking about."

You always know the kind of immigration they're talking about. Always. But I bit anyway.

"What kind of immigration were you talking about?" I asked.

He waved his hands expressively. "You know," he said. "Terrorists!"

I shut the conversation down after that.
ishyface: (Default)
This is a backdated entry to say HAPPY TEN-YEAR LJVERSARY TO ME. Ten years ago I got a LiveJournal so I could tell all the Internets about Jesus and summer camp and how much the character Matt from Digimon really, y'know, MEANT something to me. Ten years later I am still just as bad at real life as I was as a twelve-year-old, but hopefully I hide it a little better. \o/
ishyface: (she don't use jelly)
So last night Amy and I went out to have a few drinks at a local bar and ended up crashing a lesbianish bachelorette party that involved Belinda Carlisle karaoke and a screening of The Room (BEST. MOVIE. EVER) and we thought we made a friend except he turned out to be a fucking racist dick so he wasn't a friend after all and there was a very patient bartender and endless glasses of red wine and someone put a jamjam down my shirt. And I'm still drunk.

It was a good night.

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