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Yep, it's that time of year again.

I love tennis, even though I suck at it. When people find out that I played on the tennis team in high school, they all say, "Oh, you must have been really good!"

Uh, no. Not really. My high school was just so small, making the tennis team was pretty much a matter of showing up and looking vaguely interested. My parents had both played, so I did start learning the basics at a relatively young age, but I was never going to be more than just adequate.

Still, I loved it and had fun, and if I gave up everything I was bad at, I'd never do anything.

Watching the elite of the sport, though, has always been AMAZING.

I loathe Roger Federer with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, but I have to give him credit for making tennis look like the easiest thing ever. His physical grace on the court is truly astonishing, and in the current era of power tennis, points to him for sticking with the one-handed backhand.

Rafael Nadal has the most savage forehand I've ever seen, and an impressive-- if overwhelming-- game that raises the power game by several orders of magnitude. Sometimes I wonder, though, why nobody else realizes that he's OCD, and that his numbers are all odd. It must be killing him by inches to be ranked No. 2. Maybe that's why he can't seem to beat Djokovic.

Ah, yes, Novak Djokovic.

I've had my eye on him since he turned pro in 2003, when he was just some Serbian throwaway who showed up on TV long enough for the big guys to wallop into the ground. He caught my attention, though, because his style of play reminded me of Ivan Lendl, who I'd admired very much back in his heyday. So I kept on studying Djokovic, watching how he improved and climbed steadily up the ranks, and then came the 2008 Australian Open. When he won the trophy, I said, Someday that kid's gonna be Number One.

Everyone in the sports world called Djokovic a flash-in-the-pan. When he made it to the Number Three ranking, they said he'd never get any higher. When he kept losing in quarterfinals, semifinals, even finals of majors, they said he'd never win another title. They sneered at his fits of temper, his on-court antics, the dramatics of the family members who made up his entourage. He wasn't as courtly and polished as Federer, as humble and likable as Nadal. It was easy for them to badmouth Djokovic.

And then came the 2011 season.

The No. 1 ranking finally his, an astonishing 70-6 record . . . and still, the naysayers are out there trying to tear him down.

I think a big part of it is that Federer and Nadal have had things locked up for so long, anyone else who challenges their duopoly is dismissed by the tennis world as an interloper. It's "ostrich tennis", in my book . . . they refuse to acknowledge Djokovic, so therefore, he doesn't actually exist. Part of it is that tennis is seen as a gentleman's sport. It's very rule- and class-oriented, even if people don't like to admit it out loud. There's not much room in there for upstart young players from war-torn Balkan nations. Tennis is extremely snooty-- remember the fuss when players started adding color to their ensembles? ( And to wear anything other than all-white at Wimbledon is still unthinkable. ) The establishment of tennis likes its players to come from a certain world and to behave a certain way. It's what made Federer their poster boy.

Then Nadal roared in and didn't just upset the status quo so much as he bulldozed it flat and poured new courts over it. But he was so personable, so likable, that everyone was utterly charmed by him. Even Federer, I suspect.

Djokovic comes across as very genuine, however. He's not always charming, though he often is. Sometimes he's snippy, even through the constant joking around that earned him that ridiculous nickname. He has a temper that he has to work to control, just like everyone else in the world, and sometimes, he fails. He turns that temper on himself, though, rather than on others like Murray does. In the 2010 US Open, during his loss to Nadal, there was a point where Djokovic actually turned away and started smacking himself on the side of the head with his racket. It was a very . . . humanizing moment. He gets carried away with his celebrations and does crazy things like rip his shirt off or eat blades of grass, but when he takes that brief moment and crosses himself, it seems very sincere. So does his congratulations ( commiserations? ) at the end of the match for the opposing player. It looks like more that just the obligatory, "Good game!" that we all remember from our own sports days, don't we? Of course, remember too how we were secretly thinking "HATE YOU!!" the whole time?

I bet that's what Nadal is thinking now, every time he has to go to the net after yet another loss to Djokovic. Heh.

But be all that as it may, I think that Novak Djokovic is going to turn the tennis world on its head, and I think he's here to stay.

At least, until someone younger and hungrier comes along and chews the court out from under him.

Current Mood: bouncy bouncy
Current Music: "Lonely Boy" - The Black Keys

Stumbled across these while browsing for next year's Halloween costume. One of my all-time favorite costumes was my twelfth-century red gown. That thing was awesome! It weighed about twenty-five pounds and was warm as TOAST.

Alas for the days when I was half the size I am now.

These pictures made me feel all wistful for the days of Chaucer and butterfly headdresses. Sigh. I want to run right out to the fabric store and get started.

Check out this dress and cloak. )

And this dress, this one I just love to pieces. Except not enough to order it from Germany and pay like 200 bucks. )

Current Mood: nostalgic nostalgic
Current Music: "Greensleeves" - Waverly Consort Choir
It's that time again.

Santa has elves. I have Target. And yet, I still have to wrap the gifts and get them under the tree.

So, in the grand and last-minute tradition of my family for lo, these many years, I am watching Midnight Mass on TV and wrapping presents, and figured I'd take a break to wish everyone happy for the winter holiday of their choice.


I hope you get everything you want, no matter what that might be.

Current Mood: tired tired
Current Music: Latinate Midnight Mass
Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Turkey Day to all! Or Tofurkey Day . . . whatever makes you happy.

We're going to celebrate on Saturday, which means I get to relax and watch TV until my eyeballs fall out of my head today. I have a nice little Marie Callender's frozen turkey dinner waiting for me for tonight, and all the sale flyers I could possibly want in order to plan my expedition for tomorrow morning.

It's gonna be a good weekend.

Current Mood: excited excited
Current Music: Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

I've found myself thinking a lot about Kristin lately, probably because it's been about two years now since she divorced me, and let me tell you, just because you're hetero lifemates doesn't mean it can't be just as real and miserable and agonizing as any other terminated relationship.

I don't think a day has gone by in these last two years when she hasn't crossed my mind at least once, even if it's just to think, I can't believe she's not around any more. We were part of each other's lives for twenty-five years, with all the history of growing up together and going to school together and shared holidays with our families.

For the first few weeks, I didn't think I'd ever breathe again.

And then, weirdly, suddenly I felt like I hadn't been breathing at all for a long time, and now I finally could.

That's when I realized that this divorce had been coming for a while, a couple of years at least, and maybe I was just too stupid to see it. I knew there was emotional and physical distance between us, but I had been the one who moved, and so I thought it was me who had to try harder. It never occurred to me that maybe there were bigger problems and she was just using the move as an excuse to push me away.

Now, suddenly, I didn't have to make myself call her and be secretly glad that I got her voicemail. I didn't have to dread any more that she would call me on her way home from court at some point and I'd have to cut her short after an hour because it was it was 3pm and I'd already taken my lunch break, having waited for her as long as I could, then have to hear that tone when she said, "Oh, of course. You're at work," like I should somehow have known exactly when she planned to call. Especially when, in the same conversation, she'd probably already have told me about the three calls she made before she got to me: the three calls that could have waited, and then I could've talked during my break and it wouldn't have been a big deal.

I didn't have to hold my Friday nights in abeyance for her, just in case she decided that she felt like following through on what used to be our traditional night of the week to get together. I didn't have to worry about saying something politically incorrect in front of her pretentious law school friends, or of violating some kind of behavior that she'd later insist she told me about when she had, naturally, done no such thing.

And most importantly, I didn't have to worry any more about why she divorced me in the first place.

Yeah, she never told me.

I got six weeks of the silent treatment before she deigned to pick up the phone one night. Then she screamed at me about how awful I'd been and how embarrassed I made her, and I basically had no idea what she was talking about, but went into automatic crisis mode anyway.

See, I learned something a long time ago with Kristin: her competitive drive overpowers EVERYTHING. Then she went to law school and got four years of training in how to win at all costs, and I just never felt that I could keep up in an argument.

I mean, really, think about it. I could argue with her until I was blue in the face, and whether I was right or not, she would STILL end up backing me into a corner and forcing me to say I was wrong. So then what? Apologize? Grovel? Whatever. Why not, I figured at some point, just skip the HOURS OF UNENDING TORMENT and go straight to the said groveling apologies? Made more sense and was certainly better time management, I thought. So for the last ten years, I stopped arguing with her when she got angry with me for any reason, just backed right down and, like a guy who doesn't understand why his girlfriend is mad but knows he'd better buy flowers and chocolate anyway, I just started apologizing until she got over whatever her snit might have been at the time.

Looking back, this may not have been the wisest method of dealing with things.

And yet, despite still feeling somewhat melancholy about the whole thing, I still can't help but to feel almost . . . glad?

I wonder if other people who have gone through divorces feel the same way.

I'm sure she feels she had valid reasons to be angry with me. I'm sure she even thinks that she made those reasons clear to me. And I know that it takes two people to ruin a relationship, whether it be a marriage or friendship or life-partnership like I thought we had. I'm not easy to love, but neither was she.

And sometimes, I still miss her.

Current Mood: contemplative contemplative
Current Music: "Sister Goldenhair" - America

Today is my brother's birthday.

He's 41, just a little more than a year younger than I am, and yet there's a lot of people in my life now who don't even know that I have a brother.

We haven't spoken in more than fifteen years. )

Current Mood: melancholy melancholy
Current Music: "Life Is A Highway" - Tom Cochrane

Totally had to clean out my poor DVR, which was at 87% full and threatening to explode, so this was a TV weekend.

Yesterday was "series day", which means that I watched the last two episodes of White Collar. I LOATHE Eliza Dushku, and I devoutly hope we never have to see her again, but I have the unfortunate feeling that she'll be back. Dammit. I am, however, enjoying the struggle in Neal's character. Looking forward to seeing where this goes when the season picks up again in the fall.

Then I watched the last two episodes of Haven, which also made me very happy. I've been rooting for Audrey and Nathan since the series started, so I hope it works out for them. One of the things I like best about the show is that none of the actors are Hollywood-gorgeous . . . you know, men with chiseled features and equally chiseled abs, women like skeletons with breast implants and flowing manes of hair, flawless features and equally flawless makeup. Lucas Bryant is very attractive, I'll grant you, but not in the currently popular mode. For one thing, he's too skinny by the standards of typical Hollywood hunks-- as is Eric Balfour, whose features have become almost satanic as he's aged. Again, neither of them are leading-man material. And Emily Rose is adorable, but she's also not typically attractive by current standards.

So all that is what originally drew me in to the show. Yes, generally I choose my TV viewing based on the quality and the quantity of the pretty, but Haven really sucked me in because it was so different. Then I stayed for the plot, which has been absolutely fascinating. Sure, a couple of weak episodes here and there, but over all . . . really enjoying it. Though I rather hope something nasty eats Luke Perry's character soon, as he gets on my nerves in a major fucking way.

I've also been following Alphas, but I'm not sure how long it will hold my interest. At the moment, it's interesting, but it also has the potential to become formulaic, I think. Did you know that the guy who plays Hicks in Alphas played the vampire leader, Luther, in SPN? Yeah, I had to look it up, too. I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him for the life of me.

Still behind on Necessary Roughness. Callie Thorne just annoys me SO FUCKING MUCH, I'm having trouble watching it, even for the hotness that is Riley Finn I mean, Marc Blucas. Maybe if I mute the volume I can deal with it better.

Of course, I also had to take a few breaks to watch men's tennis, specifically the Western & Southern Open. My TV tennis boyfriend, Novak Djokovic, made it through the semifinals but had to retire in the beginning of the second set of the final today with a injured shoulder. It's obviously been a hard slog on all the players . . . there have been a lot of disappointing matches these past two weeks, with players withdrawing left and right with injuries or just plain playing well below their usual standard of talent. When Djokovic has won this week, it's either been a long and ugly slugfest, or the the other guy has tapped out--which is its own kind of disappointment. Tsonga went down that way, and so did Berdych, both of whom would have been great matches.

The ATP doesn't give the two-day breaks between matches that the Grand Slam events do, and I think it shows in the weariness of all the players. All the top guys just looked utterly exhausted even after Montreal, and then you add in the weather in Cincinatti? Yeah, small wonder that they're dropping like flies. Djokovic traditionally doesn't seem to do well in the heat, and I naturally sympathize. I'd curl up like a salted slug if I tried to even breathe outside in weather like that. Yuck. I just really hope he went home and faceplanted into his couch and is going to stay there for the next week, recovering and resting up for the US Open. 'Cause I really want to see him win some more titles and prove to all the naysayers that he DESERVES to be Number One. There's still way too many people out there who are pooh-poohing his success, calling him a fluke and a flash in the pan, and to them I say NO.

I've been watching Novak Djokovic since he turned pro in 2003, and I've been waiting for him to have this year. He deserves it, and I hope he gets to keep it.

Abrupt ending here, as it is now late, and I must pack for another work-week staying at Mom's house. *yawns* Glad I had that nap earlier, 'cause I'm sleepy.

Good night!

Current Mood: recumbent recumbent
Current Music: NFL - San Diego Chargers at Dallas Cowboys

The whole damn country's under a massive heat wave, and New Jersey is no exception. Going outside feels like being poached, so indoors in front of the TV it is, with the AC on max cool.

So I just started catching up on Necessary Roughness, strictly for Marc Blucas, you understand.


1. I hate Callie Thorne.

2. Terrence King is very clearly Terrell Owens.

3. Marc Blucas is still playing Riley Finn. This time, it's just Riley with a football in his hands.

4. Unless they settle the stupid NFL lockout / players' strike / whatever stupid crap soon, THIS WILL BE THE CLOSEST I GET TO FOOTBALL THIS SEASON, DAMMIT.

Of course, Item Number Three does not make me love him any less . . . I'm just not sure how long I can put up with Callie Thorne, who seriously gets on my nerves. I didn't like her in Rescue Me, and I'm not crazy about her character now.

I'm not sure how long the appeal of Marc Blucas will hold out over the distaste.

Other than that, I'm not seeing anything too interesting about the show. It seems fairly formulaic-- you know, spunky female lead struggling to balance work and family life while negotiating the chaos of the newly single-- and I'm like, yeah, whatever. I just can't relate.

So, you know, I'll watch it until the appeal of Marc Blucas can no longer overcome the boredom factor, and then I'm sure I'll find something else.

On the plus side, it's nice for him, that he's managed to land a lead role in a series again. Guess he doesn't have to worry about eating oatmeal for a while.

Although he did marry Ryan Haddon last year, and if she's anything like she was when she was married to Christian Slater, she'll be the expensive sort, so the steady paycheck will probably do him some good. Ooh, meow, yes, I know.

On another note, I've also been watching Teen Wolf. It's surprisingly enjoyable so far-- then again, I like The Vampire Diaries, so I am perhaps not the most reliable critic available.

I also tend to base my viewing choices on the quantity and the quality of the pretty, so again . . . questionable validity in the decision-making department.

Still, Teen Wolf definitely is not lacking in the pretty, with plenty of it to go around . . . covering all the types, too. We've got dark hair and light eyes, dark hair and dark eyes, light hair and light eyes . . . there's also Bad Boy Hiding Dreadful Family Secret, Abercrombie Jock With Ace Up His Sleeve, Geeky Best Friend With Heart of Gold--- shall I continue?

My supervisor has a thing for werewolves, so I pimped her in, and now we're arguing about who we think might be the alpha wolf. Personally, my money's on the dweeb teacher-- not the coach ( who I suspect is soon to be wolf chow ), but the other one we see a lot of, the weedy-looking one with the glasses. Mr. Harris, I think is his name? I thought he was the science teacher at first, but maybe it's something else, I'm not really sure now, and they're not terribly worried about continuity, so it's hard to tell for sure.

Abrupt ending here, as the dog is demanding her walk, despite the fact that it is still 82 degrees outside and within fifty yards, she's going to be demanding that we go back inside. I'm sure tomorrow, I'll have more TV to discuss.

Current Mood: tired tired

So with my bowl of cereal this morning, I got to watch Resident Evil: Afterlife, which was a pretty awesome way to start the day. I'm a surprisingly big fan of the RE franchise, considering that I generally loathe zombies, but RE 1 & 2 totally had me hooked from the very first time I saw them. What I liked most was the emphasis on strong female characters-- action heroes in their own rights-- not just cupcake rewards for the manly men to rescue.

Okay, okay, and the slash in both movies totally wrote itself.

Of course, then RE 3 had to come along and ruin EVERYTHING, but I'm glad to see that somebody pulled it together for RE 4. I have great hopes for 5, which I understand will be coming out next year some time.

One of the things that I thought would bother me was that Wentworth Miller was playing the part of Chris Redfield. Originally Jensen Ackles was cast in the role, but he pulled out, I'm guessing because of scheduling conflicts with SPN's shooting schedule. And although I think Wentworth is hot like burning, I deeply, deeply resented that he was NOT Jensen.

Yet, much to my surprise, I liked him quite well. I did, however, find it easy to imagine how Jensen would have played the role instead. I really would have liked to see what he would have done with it . . . but, oh well. Nothing to be done for it, I suppose.

And now I am settling in on the couch to watch my TV tennis boyfriend, World No. 2 Novak Djokovic, beat the crap out of some other guy at Wimbledon. ( Yeah, yeah, I know. Baghdatis. Whatever, I care NOT. )

It's gonna be a good day.

Current Mood: happy happy
Current Music: Wimbledon

Liam Neeson in Taken.

That is hot. *drools*

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Current Mood: nostalgic nostalgic


I made a nifty sparkly banner! Okay, for me, this is quite an accomplishment. I'm not usually the "let's try it and see if it works" person. I'm more of the "let's ask somebody how to do this" person. But I decided to give it a shot and BANG!!! I made myself a shiny pretty banner!

Now, let's see if I can make myself a shiny pretty boy toy.

*pause for experimentation*

Rats. Not working out so well. *sigh*

I'm forty-two this year. My last boyfriend was a big Doug Adams fan, and he used to say that 42 was the most momentuous birthday, but it doesn't feel any different than any of the last ten or so birthdays. I looked back on my birthday journal entries for the last several years, and the running theme seems to be "universally lame".

I still want cake and ice cream and presents, though.

Ice cream. YUM.

location: work
Current Mood: giggly giggly
Current Music: "Pumped Up Kicks" - Foster The People

Watching Rocky IV and drooling over Dolph Lundgren, circa 1985. But I have to say, this movie seemed a lot better when I was sixteen and watching it in the theater with all of my karate friends.

Still . . . Dolph Lundgren. That was a pretty, PRETTY MAN.

Current Mood: lethargic lethargic



*deep breath* I have faith in Elijah. If anyone knows of a cure, I'm sure he does.

I'm thrilled to see Tyler back, and I hope that he and Caroline hook up at last, because Matt's kind of a big doofus.

But in sum . . . squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

Current Mood: excited excited
Fuck this noise.

You know, a whole lotta shit has gone down in the last few weeks, and I don't feel like talking about it right now.

So, screw it.



At least the day started with cake. Cake for breakfast is a pretty good way to begin the day.

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Current Mood: cranky cranky
Current Music: "All I Ever Wanted" - Depeche Mode

Got to watch the SPN finale on Saturday night as planned, and right now, the big thing I have to say is:


Although I do have to say, that in watching it, I really thought that I'm sure there's people somewhere who are still unspoiled )

All I know is that Season 6 is looking mighty tasty!

P.S. Also, dammit, I hear I missed out on my chance at Jensen. WELL MOTHERFUCKING FUCKITY FUCK. I mean, *cough* congratulations *cough*.

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Current Mood: busy busy
Current Music: "Rainy Day People" - Gordon Lightfoot

So I'm assiduously avoiding LJ because I haven't watched the finale yet, and won't be able to do so until tonight.

Amanda and [info]lucifrix are coming over and we're making a finale party out of it . . . I've spent weeks scouring past episodes to create the menu--all things we've watched the boys eat or drink at one point or another.

Anyone who feels like road-tripping down to South Jersey is more than welcome. I'll throw an extra burger on the grill for ya.

I kept myself away from the TV completely on Thursday night by industriously cleaning the house and finally finishing putting together the futon for the spare room. The dog kept trying to help. I think she thought that I was building her the best dog bed EVER. She had really liked the air mattress that was set up in there, even though I kept piling stuff up, trying to keep her off of it.

I ended up just not setting up the futon mattress. Let's see Stoli try to sleep on a naked metal frame, ha! She may be the smartest dog in the world, but she still doesn't have opposable thumbs.

Current Mood: excited excited
Current Music: "Pleasant Valley Sunday" - The Monkees

Regarding SPN 5.21, "Two Minutes To Midnight":

I would just like to remind everyone that I called it, way back in March once hiatus was over, that SPN CURRENT SPOILERS )


Okay, fine, maybe I forgot to post it in my LJ, but I do have multiple actual live people who can attest to the truth . . . I did, indeed, CALL IT. SO THERE.

Also, I kinda wonder if itty-bitty spoilery ). Just a feeling.

I will miss last week's character death ).

And from the week before that . . . man, I like me some righteous Cas, getting his angel-anger-management-issues worked out on punching-bag-Dean.


Okay, moving on. Time for the best Damon scenes from Vampire Diaries!

Last week's episode: 1.20 - "Miss Mystic Falls"

Johnathan: I’ll tell the Council what you are.

Damon: Do it. I’ll kill every last one of them. Then I’ll sever your hand, rip the ring off of it, and kill you too. How’s that?

Last night's episode: 1.21 - "Isobel"

Damon ( choking Isobel ): I do believe in killing the messenger. You know why?

Isobel ( busy being choked, also concussed ): Uhn…

Damon: Because it sends a message. You tell Katherine, if she wants anything from me, the little bitch can come and get it herself.


It’s the intensity that gets me, reels me in, that focus in his eyes. Just . . . OH YEAH.

Sure, he's twisted and kinda evil and vaguely amoral, but he's also utterly devoted and, in his own way, trying to do the right thing. Which, seriously, is more than you can say for some of the human characters. Alaric even says it, in last night's episode, "You're a complete dick, but you still have emotions."

Sigh. Yeah. Gets me every time.

Current Mood: tired tired
Current Music: "Daylight" - Matt & Kim

Too much caffeine = thinky-thoughts. Or something like that.

I will be missing SPN tonight, alas, as I will be crashing at Mom's tonight and she has already declared the TV off-limits for something else she wants to watch. As I intend to unplug the TV altogether before she gets home from work and force her to begin cleaning up the living room in preparation for her upcoming surgery, it matters not what is on the TV schedule.

Yeah, Mom's scheduled for foot surgery in two weeks, which-- given the way time seems to fly any more-- actually means more like two days. She'll be on strict bed rest for a week and using a walker for three weeks, and let's just sum up the whole problem by explaining that my mother is a HOARDER.

No, seriously-- she could be on one of those TV shows and fit right in. It's really, really, REALLY SCARY.

[info]lucifrix was the first outsider allowed into the house in . . . I think more than twenty years? Three years ago, she was helping me to move, and since I was downsizing from a large townhouse to a small apartment, I stashed some stuff at Mom's house. Diane used the phrase "ant trails", quite appropriately, to describe what it was like to try to move around in there.

Then I started watching these clutter-busting shows and realizing that there was more going on than just harmless pack-ratting.

It's tough to let go of stuff, I get that. I myself had an especially difficult time releasing clothes and shoes. Before I moved, Amanda came over and we pulled nineteen bindery boxes of clothes, six big garbage bags of shoes, another three bags of purses, and three of those portable-closet-things out of the attic and went through everything.

For me, I had to spend time saying goodbye to everything. Once I pulled out an article of clothing, reminisced a bit and then faced the fact that no, I was never going to be nineteen again no matter how cute that pink-polka-dotted midriff top might be, then I was able to let it go. ( We will NOT discuss the Z. Cavaricci shorts. NO WE WILL NOT. )

My mom is currently caught in a loop of belief that everything she's kept is worth something. We participated in a couple of church yard sales and in the first one, she made a good bit of money, so now she thinks that every piece of trash is going to bring her two or five or ten dollars, and she refuses to give up anything. I mean, even stuff that's broken or otherwise useless: like a Polaroid camera. Polaroid stopped making film for those cameras, so Mom insists that the camera is now a collector's item. I'm like, no, it's just WORTHLESS, SORRY.

In the second church sale, she made a lot less, but still some money, and again, it just reinforced her new belief that all her junk will bring her bucks. Which again-- to a certain extent, yes, I get it, but on the other hand, the reality of the situation is that sometimes you have to make the sacrifice for the greater good. In this case, her safety is very much at issue. There is *no way* she is going to be able to negotiate a walker through that house to get to the bathroom. I'm not even sure that crutches would be safer.

The problem with hoarders is that it doesn't do any good to just take over and do it for them. That just ratchets up the anxiety level and makes them hoard more stuff.

I just . . . I hope I can get through to her that something's got to give.

Current Mood: wired
Current Music: "Fish On The Sand" - George Harrison

About SPN 5.18: Point of No Return . . .

I knew Zachariah was going to get his ass kicked when he broke the top three rules for bad guys:

1. DON'T GLOAT. Revealing your master plan to the people you haven't killed yet pretty much gurantees that they're going to escape, and now they know what you're up to.

2. DON'T FUCK THE CAPTIVE. There are plenty of people to have sex with who don't necessarily want to see you dead. At least, not until after you've finished and kicked them out.

3. DON'T ASSUME YOU'RE INVALUABLE. The graveyards are full of men who thought they couldn't be replaced.

Also, one teeny-tiny thing:

He called the Winchester brothers "psychotically, irrationally, erotically co-dependent".



*happy sigh*

Current Mood: ecstatic ecstatic
Current Music: "Something Good Can Work" - Two Door Cinema Club

Yesterday, I had to explain to a student worker exactly what is microfilm.

She had NO IDEA.

And finally, when I said, "It's how they used to archive things before the Internet," she said with complete seriousness, "But the Internet's always been there."

I had to walk away before my head exploded.



Current Mood: disappointed disappointed
Current Music: "( Don't Fear ) The Reaper" - Blue Oyster Cult
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