One of my favorite things on TV is historical documentaries that feature quasi-actors sort of bumbling around, making facial expressions on command.


Narrator: The soldiers were worried.
Soldiers: [worrried]


Narrator: These women would play a vital role in the expansion of the American West.
Saloon Girls: [smiling]


Narrator: The Emperor now had only one goal - to overcome his enemies, and show no mercy.
Emperor: [frowny face]



Where do they find these people? Seriously, where do I sign to be a frowny-face on National Geographic documentaries? Resume:

Female, under 30, available for quasi-acting in documentaries. Specialties: suspicion, tiredness, frowny face.

This is how last night went:

1. Went to the reading at South Street last night; had a very good time.

2. Raced home to finish Operation Not Bakula.

3. Finished.

4. Immediately queued up the whole thing and started again until I fell asleep at about 3am.

5. Woke up 45 minutes early this morning to watch some more before work.

I'm still on such an experience-high that I'm not even tired. I am a nerd beyond measure.

So, I've had a job since I was eight. (Car-wash-business owners of the world unite! Mission statement: "Carry that bucket proudly, washing cars up and down one side of your street until a parent walks you safely across to the other side!")

For a while, I saved money, but since that job, my job seems to simply be a way to support my fannishness. I now look at money as something I should hide as fast as possible upon receiving it, or else it will go to a fifteen-DVD set about the history of the petticoat.

Note: if this DVD set exists, uh, let me know.

( The sad extent of my fannishness, inside. )

I lasted exactly 98 minutes in Comic Con. I am the worst geek in the world.

( When you start with a Stormtrooper blasting 'Come On, Ride the Train', there's nowhere to go. )

The History Channel is showing a special about how the world's going to end in 2012, based on the Mayan calendar and the I Ching.

NARRATOR: THE I CHING'S POWERFUL ABILITIES ARE LEGENDARY.

Scholar: The amazing thing is that whatever question you ask, the I Ching provides an astoundingly accurate answer.

Guy from Skeptic Magazine: We call that the P.T. Barnum effect, where there's something for everyone; you know, 'you're extroverted, but sometimes you can be introverted'- that's not prophecy, really, it's more -

Narrator: BUT THE I CHING'S PROPHECIES MAKE A CHILLING PATTERN.

Scholar: I mapped the cycle of the I Ching, and found out that the cycle of prophecies ends abruptly on December 21, 2012. The I Ching has correlated to a lot of major events in world history, and I think the evidence here is pretty compelling.

Guy from Skeptic Magazine: Well, isn't it possible that -

Narrator: MORE ABOUT OUR IMPENDING DOOM AFTER THESE MESSAGES.

I used to think I had the same amount of food hangups as anyone else. Apparently, I have far, far more food hangups than anyone else, ever. Apparently, in the March Madness of food-pickiness (a rare sports metaphor!), I would be in the Final Four. It would be me, two other people I don't know, and the girl I used to babysit who ate artichoke-heart white pizza and NOTHING ELSE.*

* Note: Robert from third grade was allergic to peanuts, gluten, wheat, and raw fruit. He's not in the running, since allergies are a really good reason to stay away from certain foods; I just wanted to point out how much it must suck to be in third grade and have to explain your lunch to the other kids, who are sitting around and making disgusted faces.

Now, I have two allergies: green peppers and eggplant. Neither is severe, but I also avoid them, because who wants their mouths to itch uncotrollably for the next few hours (or, in the case of eggplant, have their tongue swell up)? Those don't count. I'm an ovo-lacto vegetarian, so that limits me. But then, THE LIST.

I might occasionally eat these, especially if I ended up somehow paying for the privilege, but I don't like:

Soft tofu; red or yellow bell peppers; white beans; pinto beans; yogurt from the bottom of the container; any milk other than skim; anything in a cream sauce; zucchini; squash other than pumpkin; honeydew melon; blueberries; cucumbers or their evil cousin Stealthcumbers; celery; lettuce other than romaine; most cheese (cheddar, maybe feta, maybe Parmesan, but that's IT); peaches; garlic; cumin; broccoli; rice; crispy cookies; potatoes; hummus except Sabra brand; walnuts; pecans; squishy tomatoes; lentils; raisins; granola; milk chocolate; caramel; bulgur; kalamata olives; carrots; soft bananas; soft pears; any produce that is not rock-hard. ETA: cottage cheese, jam/jelly, whipped cream in a can, green grapes, coconut flavoring.

Did I mention I don't cook? Let's face it, it's a miracle I'm not dead of malnutrition.

The point is; please assure me I'm not alone. Is there some food about which you get insanely, fiercely nitty? (I have a friend who will not eat cheese unless it's off a wooden board and exactly room temperature; she says cold Brie is like a slap in the face.)

Okay, does anyone know any salacious details about what happens with the "lj embed" thing that tacks onto anything embedded into an LJ entry? I've taken down my Fantasma embeds and turned them into plain text links just in case, but I always love gossip about our evil overlords.

Last night I managed a line of description.

I'm almost thirty thousand words into the novel, and I JUST NOW mananged a line of description.

...I'm boned.

You said, "You know, my weekend feels ugly-dress-free. Someone needs to fix that!"

And I totally heard you.



To review the design features of this dress:

Bubble hem (primary color); smocked sides (secondary color); gathered shoulders (secondary color); button-tab back detail (primary and secondary colors); back tie (secondary color); huge motherfucking chain mail drape from self-fabric attached necklace (dude, CHAIN MAIL).

I just...I feel like this was supposed to be spread out among seven designs, but the index cards for each dress went into a single envelope by mistake and the seamstresses got it and said, "Well, if that's what they want..."

UGLY DRESS FAQ

Q:
A: Hell yes I would!

So I have a picture of an ugly dress to post, but apparently it's waiting until Saturday. If you wanted to look at an ugly dress and are angry you have to wait, blame pantlessjohnny.

And now, to the bus.

Tonight I head home for a long weekend of being my family's personal tech support (a service performed in exchange for my dad shoving through my taxes for me, since I always end up with 785 tax documents even though I lead a ridiculously boring life).

It's the equivalent of a writing retreat in that I will have a computer with no wireless - ideal for writing! It's the equivalent of a Catskills retreat in that every minute of my time is already booked - ideal for learning a sensual dance at the hands of one of the dance staff!

I still hope to get some work done; it's been a productive week and I want to keep up the pace.

Headline event: watching Fantasma dell'opera with friends. It's going to be EPIC.

All that's left is to see what the Gods of Bus Travel have in mind for me. Somtimes they are benevolent and I get a nice person who sleeps for four hours. Sometimes I get someone who enjoys garlic fries, loud cell phone conversation, and, once, asking me if the Lord was my true savior. (My answer: "Oh, je ne parle pas anglais, je regrette!" Thank you, one sentence of French I retained!)

My junior year of college I took a graduate short story workshop, which I was allowed to take because the professor signed off on it in an attempt to keep me out of her other class. (It's a good story. Ask me sometime! Not here!)

Mid-semester, we get this one: a young boy invites a friend to dinner, and his mother worries excessively about the meal for the rest of the day: they go to the grocery store and she buys salad, black beans, chocolate cupcakes, frowning over each ingredient. The friend comes over, the dinner party begins, the mom is still nervous. The end.

When we convened, the questions flew. "Is the father abusive? You should make the son more afraid of him if so, but the wife's anxiety is done well." "I love the anxiety about poverty; good details worrying in the grocery store." "I think there needs to be more conflict in the dinner." The guy who wrote it sat silently, wringing his hands, until he couldn't take it any more and stood up to defend his story, stopped only by the little built-in desk on his chair, which caught his legs and kept him from actually getting up, so instead he had to crouch over the desk and extend his arms imploringly as he delivered his defense.*

"Don't you see?! His friend is BLACK! The mom bought BLACK BEANS! His friend is BLACK! Didn't you get that?! BLACK BEANS!"

A friend who timed the silence said later that it was fifteen seconds of absolute quiet, followed by the shuffling of papers.

**

If left to my own devices I am totally this guy, and I know it. And of all the critiques I ever got or gave in writing workshops in four years of college, that moment was the best thing that happened, because every time I get a crit back from a beta/writing group member/magazine that says, "This is unclear," I think, "But the mom bought BLACK BEANS!" after which it's almost impossible to take myself seriously, so I make the story clearer and move on with my day. Try it! It works.

* I do a killer impression of this poor soul; I also have a female equivalent courtesy of another member of that workshop. That one features, "HAVE YOU NEVER KNOWN LOVE?" Ask me sometime!

I really wish I had perfect pitch. Or any pitch. Every time I try to remember a song title and someone says, "Well, hum a bar!" I have to shake my head.

When I try to sing, even though I can hear the melody precisely in my head, it comes out sort of like a neeeeeergheeeen dying-buffalo sound. It's a pity, since I love music, but I know my limitations, and "carry tune in a bucket" is a place at which I must draw the line. Cannot do it.

On the other hand, it means I spare the populace my karoake, humming, or actual attempts to hum a bar for song-identification purposes. Self-knowledge benefits everyone!

HA!

Happy Valentine's Day to all lovers of words.

I love that moment when your story goes from "word salad" to "actual story". *thumbs up*

Additional things that get the thumbs up:

• tango tonight


• maybe more shoe photos (I made quota, dammit!)


• the Costume Institute blog, which is a far overdue idea and has already yielded some really beautiful objects.

Is it true that the MST3K "Hamlet" episode is considered really bad? I'm enjoying it. Like, a shameful amount.

(I bet it is really bad. I have been told many times I have no taste in MST3K. I've reached a stage of quiet acceptance.)

I've made a huge mistake. (/Arrested Development)

You guys, this miniseries features flying monkeys that come out of a woman's cleavage. I mean, that's not all it has, but if I had to sum this thing up so far in a nutshell, it would be:

DG: (Has flashback about plot thing.) Oh no? You mean [plot thing]?
Glitch: [says nothing]
Raw: [says nothing]
Tin Man: [Does something to move the plot forward]
Evil Queen: [shoves monkey bats from her breasts]

I might just wait for the plot summary to show up on Wikipedia and call it a day. Two more nights of this is a sad prospect.