Love is...a hot box of chips. Well, so long as the chips last anyway. Having been the recipient of some stern drill sergeant advice to suck it up and pull myself up by up my boot straps, work hard, quit whining and get my house in order, I felt the need to walk home. I wanted to scream but the foot path was crowded with fellow walkers, fer once. After my brisk winter's evening walk I decided I wanted nothing more in this life than a box of hot chips. Yes, the worst, most evil junk food you can have, but, thanks to my late and lamented maternal grandfather,very much comfort food and I was going to have to walk past the chip shop anyway. The magpies spied me in there and must have thought their xmases had all come at once, clustering about me like mean little street urchins. So off I trotted on the last leg home like a pied piper and sat on the back steps, losing my chips hand over fist as feathered friends and family squawked and flapped and dived on them. And then the chips were gone and I was all alone again in the quiet evening. Story of my life, really, but I didn't mind. I got to watch the rather spectacular sunset, then dragged myself indoors to watch the end of MASH.
Cleaning up, as instructed, I found the sprigs of incense a street seller in Bali had pressed upon me, her conscience not allowing her to rip me off quite that badly. So I don't think you could truly call me mercenary, not when Balinese street sellers take pity on my complete lack of bargaining skills.
Was cheered immensely by a friendly prescription of watching cheesy tv and dreaming up smut fic. Just the ticket. And anyway, do I make people read my journal? Can they be truly be shocked to discover it's nothing but bad tempered grizzling? Do they ever pay any attention to my constant moaning at all? I'm a bitter and twisted old spinster and one would think that was enough of a caveat. But I digress.
Still following the Arizona fires, mainly because I'd used said town as a basis for a fictional town in my fics. It's dreadful I know, and the loss of ponderosa forests is a tragedy, but a part of my twisted brain keeps flashing on the opening credits to Bonanza. I'm a bad, bad person.
- Do You Know Where His Keys Are?
One man's attempt to learn how to use a Web server turned into a
giant, obsessive Web project: He has documented and photographed the entire contents of his house for all the Web's surfers to see. By Leander Kahney.
- You Gotta Hand It to Porn Coders
In the latest, can't-live-without-it development from the porn DVD industry, voice-activated scenes are now being produced for those aficionados who would rather not use a mouse. By Randy Dotinga. [eeew...]
- Plucky superhero could be Spider-Man's heir apparent
Sites of the day:
- Magnificent Seven - sound files (especially Chris' proposition to Vin in One Day Out West)
- Sharpe's Company - screencaps
- Ezra slash fic
- Bri's Mag7 and SG-1 wallpapers
- Six Feet Under spoilers
Just had a discussion where I was bemoaning my difficulting in learning two new computer languages. Bit of a teething problem lately, ie my teeth in everyone's backsides. Now it's true as a nipper I did manage to grasp very rudimentary Chinese and Arabic, but this stuff foxes me. I have no formal background and it's like I'm missing the decoder ring. I'm sure as soon as something makes sense it will all fall into place, but I've yet to have that eureka moment.
Heh, I like their style (and I'm printing this because the SMH don't archive):
My husband and I ...
Edited by Andrew Hornery with Ben Wyld
June 26 2002
It appears the success of the Queen's golden jubilee celebrations have done little to loosen the royals' stiff upper lips.
Less than amused, Buckingham Palace has complained to a British erotic lingerie retailer, Ann Summers, about advertisements showing the Queen reading a sex guide.
The posters, pictured right, on display in 60 Ann Summers outlets across Britain, show the Queen reading the Wild Guide to Sex to bemused MPs and saying: "Phwoar, one must get one."
The retail chain had already released a limited-edition vibrator labelled "For Her Majesty's Pleasure" for the golden jubilee.
The palace said the posters did not "comply with the guidelines on the use of the Queen's image" and emphasised that the sex guide "clearly carries no endorsement".
The lingerie chain's director, Jacqueline Gold, said: "The only mistake we accept responsibility for is the misconception that the royal family have entered the 21st century with a sense of humour."
Just went out for a toddle at lunch, ostensibly to see if any new mags were in (none) but really just to take a break (never had one yesterday). Thought happy evil fic thoughts to myself, musing over what I'd typed up this morning. When Buck falls, he falls hard, the love. Too bad he's fixated on Ezra. I love Ezra but in my fic he's occassinally "Lex Luthor" style ruthless, which I think should keep everybody on their toes, even me. Not that Ezra is bad, not at all, but up til now his criminal activities have been small fry stuff and often nothing more than boyish pranks. Now he's growing up and getting hardcore. So much so that he starts to get all evil super villain (pardon while I momentarily dissolve in silent giggles over Mrs Slocombe inspired pussy jokes) but happily I give him the Matt Murdock treatment before he ever gets close to having a criminal empire, ie I destroy his life, wipe him out, hit the reset button (hey, Angel anyone?). Poor Matt, he's never so good as when his life is being taken apart but it's getting a bit old hat now - not that I'm not enjoying the latest deconstruction. The man is angst. Mmmm...would like to go home and read more comics now. Enjoying them ever since I started sorting them and then started reading them and fell in love with them all over again. Oh dear, this isn't getting my room into sterile minimalist shape is it? Bugger it, I live in a nest of old comics and I love it.