dark angel max wtf

Bwah?

Game of Thrones. I am halfway through season one.

This shit is fucked up, people.

Like, seriously. This is more fucked up than ANYTHING I have ever written or even thought about writing, but figured it was actually too fucked up to write in fic and still be accepted by fandom.

This is moreso.

I can't look away, though, because... well... did you read the above sentences?

You know what else is screwed up? My life.

Sunday and Monday I was in hospital.

Tuesday we had an earthquake. A freakin' earthquake! 5.5 on the ricter scale (I have no idea what this means, really, as Melbourne has very little earthquake activity to compare it to). That said, there was no damage. The walls and house shook a little, nothing fell. The boys were in bed, but still awake, and they didn't even call out to me to ask what was going on.

No damage state wide to report, the most dramatic picture they could get for the newspaper was some woman standing in front of a wall in her house with crooked pictures. That's it.

So weird.

I am really enjoying school, though. So much more than I thought I would and I was really expecting to love school. I miss being S-M-R-T.

James got accepted into the GOOD primary school. *Numfar, do the dance of joy!*

I am in the middle of planning James' fifth birthday party (omg, FIVE!), so I will soon be planning Michael's second (omg, TWO!).

Kid's a smartass.

We're at nanny's house and it's time to go.

Me: Michael, are you ready?
Michael: Not yet. (as I put James' shoes on, Michael picks up his empty dinner plate and takes it to nanny, begging for more food).
Me: Come on, Michael, it's time to go.
Michael: (looks at me, looks at the plate, looks at his nanny) Hurry up!

This is his standard answer when it's time to go, "Not yet". I don't even have to say anything anymore, I just pick up my keys and Michael says "not yet".

And the kid tells knock knock jokes. *lesigh*. He's not even two and he tells knock knock jokes. Properly. With the right timing, sentence structure and call and response answers. It's... unsettling.

But he's gorgeous, as is his older brother, and they both know it.

I am currently amazing myself with the cracked out wrongness that is Game of Thrones and also struggling to write some fic that I am now (thanks to hospitals and kids and stress and school and my life) a week late in posting. More lesigh.

I have watched the first five seasons of House and am wondering if it is worth downloading seasons six through eight. I mean, the main reason I started watching this in the first place is because of Jennifer Morrison, but now it just seems cruel to her (I mean, seriously, what... did the writers hate her that much? Not just all the wedding talk late in the season, they actually made her MARRY the guy? Fuck that shit). If I have to watch Jesse Spencer in one more scene, I might just spit. A whole bunch. Talk about giving Australians a bad name. What a dick.
friends pheobe madness

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Saw a fic today with the internet's most perfect title, ever. You don't even need to read the fic, because the genius is in the title.

The One In Which Pheobe Buffay is Brittany S. Pearce's Mother.


0_0

OMG, SO AWESOME.
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firefly river think

Wits end.

I am there.

Firstly, the good, because... I love the good.

QUESTION EVERYTHING.

I cannot tell you guys exactly how proud of James I am whenever we drive in the car. I have a set CD I listen to, about 180 songs hand picked.

(one thing they never tell you is the wave of song choices that come when you have kids... at first, they're babes and they know nothing, so it doesn't really matter WHAT the songs are saying as long as they sound nice. Then comes the "copy ever word heard" stage, in which you veto the car songs. Again, it doesn't really matter what the songs are about, as long as the swears are absent. Then comes the "listen to the words" stage, where the kids listen to what's being said. Then you have to veto more songs out, because the content is inappropriate, although by this stage, a lot of the earlier songs can come back in, because the ones you originally vetoed because they were too loud/fast/not soothing, are now "fun" for the pre-schooler... Look, I tell you what, music in the car is SERIOUS BUSINESS in my world).

Ahhhnyway.

James tends to be quite eclectic in what he likes and doesn't like. He has a tendency to like the more rocky/alternative songs (has expressed a great preference for the one TISM song I can play, "Apathy", also "1985", but also likes random other music as well. It's all good.

BUT... and, this is the part I love, he questions it. And not, what exact words are they saying, but.. "What are they REALLY saying, mum?"

What he's asking is, "what does this song MEAN?"

eg "Don't Rain on My Parade" is about someone who wants to be happy and won't let anyone stand in their way, they know what they want and they're going out to get it.
"The Drugs Don't Work" is about someone being sad, because they can't be with the person they want to.

Yes, oversimplifying, but he's four. Give him a break.

I love my critical thinking child.


Then... *sigh*... moving onto the not-so-good. I threw James out of the house the other day. Not, like, physically or anything, but... He has, for I can't even remember how long, been telling me how much he hates this house and he doesn't like being here and he doesn't ever want to come home, he cries when I put him in the car... like, it's constant, and it's beginning to wear me down. And this week, it started with "I wish Nanny was my REAL mum". Like, I know the kid is four... but gimme a break. I'm doing the best I can. And Monday was a bad day overall, there was whining and arguments and crying and a tantrum in the park, because he didn't want to go home. So I drove him to his nanny's house all "get out of the car, go knock on the door. Bye." and left him there for a few hours.

He barely even blinked, in fact, his reaction was "Yay! I love Nanny's! This is my favourite place!" Grrr.

And today, it began again, all over. "I wish Nanny was my real mum." And no matter what I said, he just kept on and on and on about it. So... "Fine. You get yourself into your own jammies, brush your own teeth, put yourself to bed. I don't have to do anymore mummy things for you until tomorrow. Fine by me."

He stayed up 'til 10pm and then fell asleep on the couch. I prodded him awake and made him dress himself and brush his own teeth. Gave him kisses and told himself to tuck himself in.

I held fast, too. I didn't weaken, I didn't carry him to bed, or give in and help him.

Yes, I know, he's four (practically five, like... a month, really), but seriously. If doesn't like the job I do, he can do it himself.

I figure we'll talk this out tomorrow, when I'm mummy again.

I am emotionally fragile right now (gee, ya think?) and he's tapping into every wrong nerve I have. It's... so draining. Usually I can laugh this shit off, but... right now, it's not happening.
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ouat emma jefferson mad

A chin? A CHIN?!?!?!?!??!?

I am sure this has been done a million times before, everyone, but indulge me just a little bit in my fascination with this subject, because...


Mind = blown.

I know, I know, I know, I've all heard everyone talking about how Ginner Goodwin and Jennifer Morrison look alike and heard the stories about how fans used to come up to Ginnifer Goodwin and give her Jennifer's photo to sign and in the end she just did, because they're friends and they both laugh about it, and in the show Mary Margaret even says "You do kind of have my chin". I mean, sure, *wink wink, nudge nudge* they play supposed mother and daughter and it's all a good laugh.

Personally, I've never seen it.

Case in point:

Exhibit A: Emma Swan:



Exhibit B: Mary Margaret Blanchard/Snow White:



Yeah, okay, maybe if you squint a little, you could almost see *something*...

BUT... OMG...



Collapse )

Excellent job, casting people, WELL DONE.
buffy giles LOL

That's not funny.

Is it highly wrong of me to be this amused that Riley Finn has bacterial vaginosis of the mouth?

BWAH HAH HAH!

I guess Sam wasn't perfect after all, huh? Shoulda stuck with the Buff. I bet *she* never gave that to anyone.

(of course, most of her lovers were already dead, but that's beside the point).
heroes claire munchies

Why did no one tell me?!?!?!?

OMG, you guys, how long has this shit been out there? Why didn't you let me know?

LEMONADE SCONES.

Man. I tell you right now, I cannot make scones. Well, I can, it's just that no one likes to eat the result. They're tough, dense unappetising little lumps.

UNTIL NOW.

Holy crap. Three ingredients, minimal time, minimal fuss... I now have a tray bursting with large, fluffy, tower tall scones... and they're still fluffy after nearly 24 hours. It's the PERFECT scone recipe.

*does a little scone dance*

You guys, I'm pretty stressed right now, I'll take my wins where I can get them.

Although, come to think of it, Mondays are going to be a pretty big win for me from now on. Monday classes are AWESOMECAKES. I am in massage heaven. Mmmmmmmmmmm.

Ha, take that first timers, THIS is how you strip down in the middle of class. I don't have no body shame, LOOKATMYAWESOMEABSLOOKATTHEM!
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beaker meep

omg, you guys

What have I done?!?!?

When I was 21, I was enrolled in no less than seven subjects per semester. Two of which were anatomy and physiology, four tactile and another clerical. AND I BREEZED THROUGH THAT SHIT LIKE IT WAS CAKE.

Now?

Now I am enrolled in three subjects and participating in a fourth. Two subjects are anatomy and physiology (distance, so I can do them at home), the other graded subject is Remedial (medicinal/sports/therapuetic) Massage... and I'm sitting in (auditing) a Relaxation/Swedish Massage class.

That's, like, HALF the subjects.

AND I THINK IT'S TOO MUCH. I canna do it, Cap'n.

Of course, it's only the first week, so maybe it will settle down, but I'm already slightly overwhelmed with the course load.

My Remedial Massage class is going to be awesome, though, I can feel it. I am the only student. My tutor is really cool, we get along fairly well and she seems really nice. Which means I'm pretty much going to get one on one tutoring the entire semester, with really specified teaching personalised to my needs.

I can even choose the date my assignment is to be handed in. YAY to that.

Of course, this does mean I can't just keep my mouth shut for the difficult questions and hope someone ELSE answers... awkward.

In terms of being thrown into the middle of the pool, I think I will be fine, more of it is coming back to me than I thought and it's only the first week.

It's just... I think my main problem will be time.

I BLAME THOSE TWO LITTLE TIME THIEVING FUCKERS*. And a house that needs constant cleaning (like, seriously, wtf kids? I just cleaned, HOW did that get on the wall? What are you doing? No, no, no, we don't use butter as a body scrub!) Ahem. Plus, bills that need paying.

And fandoms that need watching/fic writing. (but... shhhh).


* Oh, phshawww, you know I luff 'em.
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