November 8th, 2003

trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats


It's a night for airing the laundry that somehow got clean in the basket.
loud fayoumis

There are some times that you just hate being correct.

Evidently my intuition was correct. There's nothing we can do about Little Fayoumis having to spend Thanksgiving with his biological hazards, and if his mother isn't there to guard him, marxdarx and I are next in line. I can't in good conscience leave him to the Thanksgiving crowd alone.

If it were just Grandma and Grandpa on a low-key weekend, just them and him, I can live with that. However, Grandma does not do stress well, and Thanksgiving is stress. It might be fine if there were some form of guarantee that That Woman, the other daughter of votania's parents, would not be there. It's almost a certainty that she will be there.

The dynamic of the unsupported female line of that family is ... sheesh. It's bad enough when everybody is healthy, happy, and sane. Great-grandma is in fragile health. Grandma will be stressed. That Woman will likely be at the top of her form, where by "top" I mean "each time I see her she has sunk a few notches further in my estimation of how an adult should behave, let alone a parent". The cousins are becoming more like their mother, and I just know that Jewel will be testing out her mother's influence on Little Fayoumis, Jade will be feeling lost, and Krystal will be all over the place, likely without any supervision save her sisters, and now she'll be big enough to get into worse trouble if there's not an eye on her every second. The fact that Rocket Uncle won't be there, and it'll be the first year without him... icing on the very nutty booze-soaked fruitcake of gloom. And doom. Did I mention the doom?

My only hope is to specify very clearly that Dawn will be here at n time, and of course I'd love to attend Thanksgiving (where by "love" I mean "loathe like the burning flames of IcyHot spiked with habañero in my nether regions") but as neither Little Fayoumis nor I have seen Dawn since last year, and she doesn't visit Arizona much anymore, we do have to get back in time to see her, could that be arranged? And while Dawn would certainly love to attend a family Thanksgiving, she is doing that with her mother and brother and sister-in-law and the kids, and she's really pinched for time, and...

...we'll see.

I have a full flask of peppermint schnapps, and I know how to use it.
  • Current Mood
running, bomb tech

You know you've got the right crowd of people when...

...So easalle and I were discussing what to wear to the phoenixglambomb picnic, and we dismissed my witch hat as "too mundane"...

I mean, everybody who doesn't know witches probably expects them to wear the pointy hats! So instead I'm wearing my everyday hat, which is pale blue with a darker blue band, and an enormous froofy decoration-thing, and far more suited to being worn with ren garb.
high energy magic

Song of the Hour

I'm getting ready for the picnic. Now I'm drying off. There's nothing like a warm, scrubby, sandalwood-soap-scented shower to make one happy, unless, of course, one does not enjoy sandalwood soap.

After I stop being quite this drippy, I shall to the kitchen to make Things of Devious Delight (sandwich makings, etc.) and pack other stuff. Then, I'll get dressed.

I think that the song for today should be "Incense and Peppermints". Yes.
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    determined determined
high energy magic


I've been ready since noon, Pagan Standard Time, which is good, because easalle will be here to pick me up at 1:00 pm, Arizona time.
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    excited excited
running, bomb tech


In this case, "since noon, pagan standard time," means, "I wanted to be ready by noon, and it's now just before 1, and I'll be ready in five minutes."
documentation, writing, quill

When Fanfic Meets Commerical Porn^H^H^H^H Erotica

Maybe a year ago, I was reading around the 'net, and I found this one site, a silly sex site without all the raunchy popups, devoted to essays about sex, etc.

And they had one little thing that was a Harry Potter takeoff, with Harry and Hermione and Ron having come of age and taking the Sex Magic class. And it sounded like it was going to be a really fun read.

And then the file stopped, and said:

"Like it? If you want to read the rest, click here to, you know, pay money."

And my first reaction: "What. The. Fuck."

Because, as any good fanfic writer knows, you DON'T play with their characters and make money off it. I would imagine that even a "Support our site" paypal button on a fanfic site, especially a raunchy fanfic site, could be legally iffy, and a "Like my writing? Keep me in cigarettes and booze (or, pb&j and ramen)" paypal button on a fanfic writer's site would be more iffy. This -- THIS!

Then, later, now, I realized: the pr0n industry has been probably doing that for years. This is a text-only version of the classic theme of taking a big-name idea and making a porn version of it. This is beautifully and wonderfully in-character. It's high-quality erotica. It's NC-17 fanfic. One you pay for, one you don't. Neither are authorized by Rowling & publisher.

I come from the fanfic side of things, and it just strikes me as wrong, but I know that if I'd been reading professional erotica all my adult life, and paying for it, I would think of fanfic authors as being cheated.
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running, bomb tech

Tea party!

There was a small meeting of phoenixglambomb: easalle, machinegirl, and me: azurelunatic.

Arrival time for easalle to pick me up was 1pm. I was ready and waiting; she had gotten slightly lost. She found her way here, though, and we set off.

Construction on the 10 made for slow going; there were detours and other evil things. We made it to machinegirl's a bit late, and waited for the fourth member of the party for half an hour before departing for Kiwanis Park. We pitched our blanket on the hill just west of the boat ramp at the north end of the lake. [park map, .pdf]

easalle was wearing a long pale gown with pearls and her black wings and a hat. machinegirl was in green checkered gingham, with bunny ears and striped stockings. I was in my Renfair garb: blue velvet overskirt, blue velvet and gold metallic lace-up bodice, with a pink snakeskin-patterned chemise, and my blue hat.

We took photos of the entire endeavor.

We had our picnic, with sandwiches and tea and sparkling cider. We watched the ducks and talked of many things. machinegirl was the White Rabbit, of course; she and I started singing the appropriate song. I was the Queen, and easalle became the Jabberwocky.

I sent easalle to fetch a shrubbery -- or a pigeon. She came back with part of each -- a feather with some dried grass or sticks in it. That was deemed acceptable. We discussed how one might substitute a pigeon for a shrubbery: by planting it, of course! Much time was devoted to deciding how. Were the feet to be planted, or to stick up out of the ground? Perhaps the tailfeathers should stick out of the ground. Hmm. I tried dissolving some dinner mints in my tea. The results, while tasty, looked... interesting.

Eventually, we fed the ducks on crusts from the marmalade sandwiches. easalle and machinegirl went out on the westernmost pier and fed ducks from there.

Some kids came up, and we gave them fairy muffins, cautioning them to ask their parents to be sure if it was all right. Evidently it was. They took pictures of the Queen, the White Rabbit, and the Jabberwocky.

There had been a drummer, off and on. We packed most of the picnic stuff in the car and went to give fairy muffins to the drummer. We utterly made his day. Evidently, meeting the Queen and entourage would make it possible for him to go back to work and tell the co-workers who he'd not been doing well with that it was all good: he'd met the Queen. We chatted as the sun came down. He had a lot of muffins. Then he got pictures of us, photograpic proof of meeting the Queen, not to mention White Rabbit and Jabberwock.

The moon was up and eclipsed as we bounced away; we spent some good time staring at that. We had to wait to leave for the party with the kids to depart (the same ones we'd given muffins to) so that they wouldn't see easalle taking her wings off to drive.

After that, we dropped machinegirl back at her place, after a good long girl-talk, and some discussion about invoking Santa Claus (which is how I, personally, am going to explain it to Little Fayoumis). (Note to self: draft lecture on how to tell what to invoke and what not to invoke.)

easalle got me home. We nearly made a detour, but her quick wits saw that the sign on the turn-in was not the one she wanted, and she got me home without any stops she hadn't been planning on. I gave her the bag with the cheerleading outfit that digitalambience wore so well.

[easalle wrote it up too. ]
[so did machinegirl, here: not much more in the way of details, but a lot more squeee!ing.]
teddyborg, geeky

Hotmail, kiss my ass.

Have decided to complain to Hotmail, finally, about their stupid habit of making it impossible to open links in mail without their help.

Y'see, when you get mail, links are clickable -- and they open as a frame in a "helpful" Hotmail window.

Since I don't see the helpful, I'm reporting it as a problem. A bug, not a feature. I cannot click on a link without the wrong page opening. A hotmail page is not the page I am going to. Therefore, it is the wrong page. I click on the link, an erroneous page opens, and I have to copy and paste the link by hand into the new window to get where I'm trying to go. It doesn't take me where I want to go. It gives me a page I wasn't going to. It is broken.

Yes, I can play dense, immovable user. It's not a feature I want. I haven't been able to find a way to turn it off. Therefore, it is a bug.
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    Bastard User from Hell