My breasts and theoretical penii are no longer the object of enlargement. The New Blus is Seeking Other Promiscuous Singles, Tired of Cold Girls..., Lookng For a Hote Date and several variations thereof--sex-dating, sex-friendship, basically, the porn-only dating service. It started refreshing, but seriously, at three months running? Not so much with the interesting.
Though I am vaguely amused that tweaked out twinks now appears in a lot of subject lines, along with the usual virgin frat boys giving it up for rush. Sadly, this does not, at first, make me think spam, but ooh, someone wrote QaF fic! Then I remember that no one yet has titled anything like that and I get sad, because that would be a kick ass title.
I've become worried, also, that 'tricking', 'twink' and 'twat' have moved into my active vocabulary list. It was weird enough during X-Men when I started calling everyone 'sugar'. But you can get away with that. I'm in Texas.
But really, there is no logical explanation for those three.
Interesting verbal footwork must occur when you call a coworker a twink.
"Twinkie! I want a twinkie!"
Yes, that's my idea of verbal footwork. I will never win awards for thinking on my feet.
Everyone is waiting for The Letter at work. It's to tell us where we will be once the transition of us into the new agency comes--to wit, employed or on the other side applying for food stamps. I'm not worried, mostly because I'm working on my pores and fine lines are the enemy I've been watching too many commercials about skin care. Or way, way, way too much Brian. It's entirely possible.
Exfoliating is my friend, though, as a scary number of products seem to suggest. At this point, I'm looking at sand speculatively, thinking of how much cheaper it woudl be just to get a lot of it and roll around in it for a while.
Oh God, I am bored.
Acutally, no, I'm avoiding my friendslist desperately. Everyone, except me and a shepherd girl in the hills of Tibet, is spoiled for 4.13 and 4.14, and I don't trust her and think she may have a screener hidden under her mattress. I realized my will was fading when I was reading obscure meanings into the way people phrased their intro to the spoilers.
I have a terror of it going bad. This is leftover from Smallville, where every time something good happened to Lex, you just *knew* that the world was going to end, figuratively. And frankly, Joss Whedon's shows didn't help with this one, and that was the literal version. Something will happen, and I will be writing long, long, epic Ben-hate fics, to soothe my ravaged feelings and because, frankly, it would be fun. Ben gets eaten by killer turtles! Ben falls loses all the money for rent and then they are almost evicted and he tries to die until an angel--no, wait, I know that story and it ended all schmoopy. *crosses off the list*
I'm really, really tempted to write end of the world QaF fic. What, other fandoms get to do it! They get apocalypses and demons and mutants and really cool special effect-type deaths and world-destroying disease. I see no reason not to send the entire cast to a nice refugee camp, where Brian trades sex for black market moisturizer and works out how to make condoms out of tree bark and bubble gum in his spare time.
...that's about as far as I got with this idea, it being Brian having sex for goods, which would kinda be just a really, really long PWP with creative sexual aids, but still. I could think of something.
Isn't it cool?
coowipp, the community to join to encourage you to finish your WiPs. I keep staring at it, thinking of all the brave people who are just committing themselves to finishing, and me, looking at my WiP and thinking, oh. God.
I was trying to explain to svmadelyn why I was having problems with this one WiP that I carry some extreme guilt about. I look at it and lose the will to live. This is after adding more to it, mostly because the place I want to get to, the part that I'm interested in, is still really, *really* far away.
And the fact that I'm not sure I can pull it off.
I'ts like--being overly ambitious? Which I suppose is better than being underambitious, but at least with under, you don't disappoint yourself, and The Yard just pisses me off on so many levels. Maybe it's the patience factor, or the fact that what I really want to do is take a week, sit down with it and a soundtrack and a coffee pot, and not move until I make myself get through this spot and go to the stuff that will move faster.
It all started with this one scene. Just one. It tempted me, like a big evil apple of shiny goodness, saying, come to me, write me, this is pretty and also, fun. Yes, like I believe that anymore, but still, it's there. It's right there, section 37, just *sitting* there, waiting to be written, and I look at it and think, that's a lot of sections away.
I need to go make cookies. Cookies make everything better.
*corrected for season numbers.