I really hate slash.

I especially hate slash that's not labelled. If you label it, I can avoid it and I don't spend the afternoon bullet-pointing a long Butlerian rant about everything that's wrong with slash fandom in my head. The bullet points are in my head, I mean, not what's wrong with slash fandom. But that, too.

Kate Beaton continues to be awesome (and gives you another reason to dislike James Watson).

Sam Carter is a badass.

Sam Carter is also holding the werewolf on my desk at bay with an automatic rifle, while keeping a zat on the T-800 in the background. Leonidas, however, is just gonna die messily in the crossfire.

I have too many action figures on my desk.

Shipper fic is where kittens go when they die. I'm not sure if that means God kills a kitten when you write bad, OOC shipper fic but consider that committing badfic means you may have wasted a kitten's life. I'm saying...

I wish TERMINATOR: THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES hadn't ended the way it did. The problem with the cancellation of a show where the writers routinely backdated character development by several episodes (ie episode six would explain why the characters had been acting like zombies since episode two) is that, six months later, I'm still clueless about WTF John was thinking at the end of "Born to Run". It pisses me off. 'John Connor was a douchebag' is not the meme I want to take away from my Terminator stories.

I said it before Joyce Carol Oates (and in fewer words).

Go me.

Look, John Rogers is fucking smart as well as hysterically funny. I'm sure it's a great show.

But this...



Seeing this hair, in high-def on a weekly basis would give me nightmares forever.

Lordy.

Who knew?

So, it's cold and snowy in both Washington and Toronto. This makes amberlynne cranky. It makes Queenie cranky.

The cold and the snow makes Amberlynne want a cheeseburger.

Her flist agrees.

There - empirical proof: snow causes cheeseburger to happen.

No one parodies Canadian politicians to Hey Bunny Lava.

Seriously, this is the best thing I've seen all day (yes, the Rays are sucking): McCain-Palin, Bollywood-style.

Then again, This Hour Has 22 Minutes did take time to assure Canadians that our Prime Minister was not a six-legged, shape-shifting, robot lizard sent from the future to destroy Canada. So there's that (although we're not sure about the lizard part).

Bwahahahahahahaha.

Say it with me: copying verbatim is not fair use, asstard.

As expected, cleolinda has all the deets at Fandom_wank

Meanwhile, Twilight continues to make me feel better about anything I've ever said and done in fandom ever.

BTW - TERMINATOR: THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES is back tonight. I am VERY happy.

A choice between sleep, coffee and food (and exercise)
Sleep was chosen
A mistake
It seems
All things lost in seeming, sleepy eyes and empty brains
Retreat to instinct
Stagger
Roam unto the 7-11
Manna in a travel mug
Chemical clarity

The bean is a lie

"If you were on a desert island with only 10 blank pieces of paper and a pencil, what would you want most to write?"

I'd want to write a plan for getting off the fucking island, is what I'd want to write. God, what sort of a silly question is that? Who thinks "ooh, trapped on a desert island. I have 10 pieces of paper, this pencil and a bloody fucking lot of coconuts. I know - time for a sonnet!"? No, if I were trapped on a desert island with 10 pieces of paper and a pencil, I'd save the paper to use for kindling, the pencil to use for starting fires and write in the sand: it's a desert island. Lots of sand. All you need is wet sand and a stick - presto! notebook. I mean, it worked for the Egyptians. Or you know, I'd use it to write my suicide note. Because I fucking hate the tropics. Hate them. I'm an Anglo-Irish Northern European white person - I am not designed for desert islands. I do not tan. I am designed to herd sheep across craggy, rain-swept moors. Not a lot of UV radiation on your average rain-swept moor. You never see Heathcliff wandering about saying "Oooh, better put a hold on that brooding while I reapply my SPF 30." So fuck your desert island and your 10 pieces of paper and your pencil, I'm off to the pub! So there!

If only that last bit were true.

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Heh, funny the places learning vibrato come in handy.

If Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry managed to have a son, it would be Eddie Izzard, Y/Y?

And then you add Lego and it only gets better.