Fight with words - fox1013

I have brilliant moments. Also, lemon bars.

Today I saw a high school teacher of mine on the street, and then we spent about a half hour talking about my geeky high school extracurricular (mock trial) the way that you see people talking about their football glory days. It wasn't until my littlest sister coughed and said "I don't want...your life" ala Varsity Blues that I realized how retarded we were being.

To compensate for it, I bought her ice cream and let her play her music in the car. I even sung (can it be called that if what you're doing is hesitantly attempting to scream along with a very angry screamo type song?) with her. This has redeemed me.

But! The best part of the day - are you guys ready for this? I realized, like the pure genius I am, that I could download the last epi of BSG on iTunes and then? I could watch it finally instead of poring over the TWOP recap and teasing details out of Lyra. It was wild. (Yeah, it really did take me this long to put the whole thing together in my head. I'm a real sharp one.)

But the thing about finally watching Lay Down Your Burdens 2 is that pretty much all I want to do now is write Cylon Baby Daddies AU, or just BSG fic in general, and what I really, truly must be writing is remix.

Send me strength, friends. I will need it.
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    anxious anxious

this bowtie is really a camera


It's my first night home, and I'm curled up on the couch with my thirteen year old sister. She's sullenly glaring at the television, saying repeatedly "There's nothing on." I reach over into her lap and grab for the remote, and after a brief struggle during which I am forced to resort to rubbing whipped cream from our desert into her hair, I get the remote.

"You," I tell her, "just don't know where to look."

So I turn on the WB, only to find Supernatural. She rolls her eyes and scoffs and throws a pillow at me, saying, "OMG (let me note that she actually said the individual letters - like this "Oh-Em-Gee"), the WB is totally for losers," with all the derision that only a thirteen year old girl is capable of.

Undaunted, I just nod at the screen as the Winchester-mobile rumbles across a road. "Wait for it," I say, patting her leg. "Wait for it."

At the first close up on Padalecki and Ackles, her jaw drops open and she lets out a squeal of high pitched giggle, complete with full puppy-like body writhe.

I begin counting off on my fingers for the inevitable explosion of glee. It takes until six for her to shriek, "OH-EM-GEE!! THEY ARE SO HOT!"

"Oh, I know," I say smugly, smirking at her.

She sputters on and on and on about the various hotness, until finally I smack her with a pillow and say, "You're making it hard for me to enjoy Dean."

"Dean? Oh-Em-Gee, Dean is way not the hot brother," she says, and I freeze, staring at her.

The pillow fight that follows that pronouncement is epic, and ends when my mother walks into the room to find me pinning the littlest Nif!Sister to the couch and waving the bowl with whipped cream near her face, yelling, "Who's the hottest, huh, huh? Who's the hottest, kid?"

"SAM!!" she keeps howling, and then we both notice my mother, standing there.

She's got her arms crossed and a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows are about to merge with her hairline.

"Oh. Hi, Mom," I say, smiling really wide and sitting back and pulling the littlest Nif!Sister into a hug.

"Girls," she says sternly, and we both stiffen. "You both need to realize that Dean is the hot brother, all right? And stop playing with your food."

Then she walks out.

After a second of blinking shock, I turn to my sister and stick out my tongue. "See?" I say. "Even Mom thinks so."

"You're how old again?" the Nif!Sister asks, glaring, and it is only then that I feel shame.


The supermarket, and my mother and I are shopping together while cheerfully exchanging family gossip. She's just gotten through telling me about the new diet one aunt is trying out and I've just told her about my cousin's secret plan to get our aunt to send him surfing on break, and we're rounding a corner, and her face goes white.

She kind of bends her knees until her face is directly parallel to the handle bar and her entire body is hidden behind the metal of the shopping cart she's pushing, and she hisses, "Oh, shit."

"Mom?" I say, concerned.

"No, no, no, do not turn around, do not look at me, you are shopping alone, you're shopping alone - Oh FUCK, stand in front of me!" she whisper yells, pulling at me, until she's hidden between me and the cereal behind her.

Now, I am pretty good at going with the flow, so I pick up a box of cereal and pretend to be engrossed in it. I read the ingredients aloud, with a furrowed brow, nodding to myself as though I really care about the mono di-glyrcerides or whatever happen to be in it. A steady stream of people is passing by, and my mother is still crouched against my shins.

"Mom?" I finally ask out of the side of my mouth. "What the fuck?"

"Just a little while longer," she says frantically. "Please, please."

So I stay where I am until she finally pushes me away and slaps her sunglasses on her face.

"So, explanation?" I say, finally. "Because that was all a little too weird."

She takes a deep breath and purses her lips to the side, finally grates out, "I told my ex-boyfriend I was moving to South America because I couldn't bear to tell him I just wasn't attracted to him. He couldn't see me." and saunters off.

I, left holding the cereal, shake my head, and put it back carefully.

My mother pops her head back around the aisle and says, "What? You thought you were the only one in this family who got themself into weird situations?"
  • Current Music
i love you! - cowboysinlove

(no subject)

y'all, there is an unidentified smell in my apartment and a hell of an ache in my head and belly. the latter i blame on burger king, the former is pretty much up for grabs as it is un. i. dentified. also, rank.

mainly, this is just to say: hello. i love porn. the song most of the time by bob dylan reminds me of galen tyrol. that is all.
  • Current Music
    most of the time - bob dylan
baltar/six divine - icon_ascenscion

Failure: AVERTED.

I will not have to be Esperanza, Marie Francoise, or Isabella any time soon. I walked into class to the beautiful sound of my teacher saying "Paper extension" and then "Let's not talk about the reading today". Someone up there loves me, I will tell you what.

What we did talk about though, was motherhood, and conceptions thereof. Somehow, a full two hours talking about bilogical impulses to be a mother, and the way that one responds physically to holding a tiny baby in their arms has filled me with the tick, tick, ticking of my own insistent imperative to procreate, and I'll say this: if ever it was clear that our bodies do not neccesarily want what is most sensible, this is an instance of that. But since my ovaries are all 'Woo! Babies!' I have decided to bring you....*drum roll* more Cylon Baby Daddies! (Or, The Brave Little Toaster and Her Two Daddies and definitely not Antietam, no matter how much I may wish to call this that, because doing so would lead to me being shanked so hard by lyra_sena).

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Previous snippets here and here.

I'ma need either a Chief or Helo icon if this keeps up; can't have my two sweet fathers being under-represented.
  • Current Mood
    complacent complacent
  • Tags
good/bad - dog was star

OMFG failure!

I have: slept five hours
boogied the night away
changed my socks
coughed until point of near retching

I have not: fully woken up yet
made my coffee maker work
had any caffeine
finished the paper due today
done the reading for today.

I cannot: skip class.
run away to Mexico and change my name to Esperanza.
run away to Montreal and change my name to Marie Francoise.
run away to Milan and change my name to Isabella.
buy coffee.
park remotely near where I'm going to need to be on campus.
freak out!!!
go back to bed.

I will: perservere.
answer to my actual name until circumstances really dictate a flight to another country.
fake having done the reading.
fake being awake/take a nap later.
throw myself upon the altar of fate and hope that everything turns out the way I wish it to.

Right. Onward. Here I go. Dear God, here I go.
  • Current Mood
    cranky cranky
not my job - slod

Delicious food time, and other things.

So, there comes a point when you look into your cupboard and you see the following things: ramen, ramen, ramen, and more ramen, a jar of holland onions, a can of olives and some tomato paste. Eating more ramen feels like slowly killing yourself, so you think "Tomato paste. I can do something with that, right?"

The answer is absolutely yes! Especially if you borrow pasta from your room mate and find a very old but still edible bell pepper in the fridge! My pasta is delicious! And absolutely not at all ramen! Thank God! The holland onions are maybe a somewhat odd addition to the sauce, but hey, it works. And if you cover anything with a lot of pepper, it pretty much just tastes like delicious, delicious pepper. In conclusion, DINNER: ACCOMPLISHED.

Also, hidden in the back of my refrigerator was a bottle of good beer that I remember buying long, long ago. My kitchen is the kitchen that just keeps giving.

In other news: there's a blister on my toe that I feel is mocking me. You will not beat me, blister. You will not keep me down; I will not allow it.

And, okay, what I'm about to say next is going to sound weird, but I think we all have these little issues from time to time. But honestly, if I hear one more compliment on my breasts, I may lose my temper entirely. I mean, compliments are nice, sure, but you know what? When you're a D-cup from 4th grade onward, you get sick of people noticing your chest region before other parts of you, and you're pretty much over hearing talk about your breasts. I mean, really? Pick another part of the body to compliment, I don't care if you are 1) a really good friend trying to tell you that you look hot in a new shirt, or 2) a significant other trying to be sexy or really anything at all.

Here, I'll even help, world: I have nice eyes! My calves are very shapely! My fingers are long! I have delicate wrists and a lady like mouth! (Lady like in terms of shape, not in terms of what I say, because that would just be funny.) I have pert elbows! My nose is refined! My chin speaks to my determination and defiance!

Just, for the love of God, universe, leave my breasts out of it. The end.
  • Current Mood
    full full
fight club smoking - dog was star

leave at your own chosen speed

i am feeling low today. there's something pleasing about the way those words go together, though the sensation itself i could probably do without. is it 'cellar door' that's supposed to be the most beautiful phrase in the english language? i can't remember, but it is a lovely phrase. also, my internets are slow. hi, this post so far is brought to you by free association.

at any rate, i have several things i want to say. first, let's talk about bsg, shall we?

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secondly on the agenda i would like to say the following things about sga: i have had a ronon epiphany. that epiphany is that i love ronon, and his smooth, beautiful skin, and his gleaming biceps. in a game of cliff/shag/marry concerning the men of sga, i would definitely marry ronon. and give him beer and cookies. together we would devour meadows filled with oreos. also, i, unlike his team and elizabeth, would listen to his input. i would be the ewok to his wookie. life would be so sweet.
  • Current Music
    It Ain't Me Babe-Bob Dylan
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