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brandywine28-- So I guess they're really going ahead with the U.S. Open. You know, the huge tennis festival that takes place, uh, maybe a hundred feet from my front door every summer?
-- Or maybe not, because I think they may be doing a socially distanced, VMA-style stadium change-'em-up thing this year, but either way, I swear: if I've successfully avoided sports my entire life only to be killed by them now? I'm going to be extremely ticked off.
-- Monday would've been my parents' wedding anniversary. Technically, I guess it still was their anniversary, even though, well. Yeah. Dead husband or not, calendar's gonna calendar.
-- Sometimes I wonder if they'd still be together today. The last few years of their marriage were pretty terrible, but they were both so complacent about it. No one thought about leaving. No one expected any better.
-- If we had a family crest, I like to imagine it'd be a knight, shrugging, with a can of Budweiser in one hand. The motto? 'Meh.'
-- (That doesn't require a Latin translation, does it? Nah. It's a universal sentiment.)
-- I was reading a fic last night and --
-- (OK, I know I'm truly an awful person for doing this in a public journal entry, but! I'm hoping to offset some of the bad karma accruage by not naming names or fandoms or platforms. FINGERS CROSSED.)
-- I wanna stress that it was not badly written! But then there was a scene where Pining Guy #1 briefly and mistakenly thinks Pining Guy #2 has asked out someone else, so he --
-- FALLS TO HIS KNEES. RENDS HIS GARMENTS. SCREAMS 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO'. All of it without a hint of irony. This was presented as a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
-- So Guy #2 eventually finds him like that, crumpled on the ground, floor-sobbing, thinks it's cute (????) and they decide they're in love (????). I've been giggling about it all morning.
-- Anyway.
-- I hate to sound like one of those basic bitches who can't wait for fall, but...God. I really can't wait for fall!
-- I mean. The year's already ruined. We may as well fast forward to the part that smells like pumpkins.
-- (Except not really, because I am strange and exactingly specific in my scent preferences, for all that they're based on nothing, and September for me is all about ROSES. It's the month where I do my best to smell like Elizabeth Taylor's funeral 24/7. Like the most romantic football parade in the world! YES.)
-- (But -- pumpkins in spirit! And then, on October 1st, pumpkins in reality!)
-- Hugo turned 15 this summer, and for weeks now I've been meaning to make him pose for a cat-quinceanera photoshoot. Our first attempt was yesterday and ended with him sneezing in my face. And with me losing the will to live for a solid minute and a half.
-- I'll get 'im in the end, though. I know where he lives.
-- I *will* provide middling cat content for all to enjoy, mark my words! That is my pandemic vow!
-- Or maybe not, because I think they may be doing a socially distanced, VMA-style stadium change-'em-up thing this year, but either way, I swear: if I've successfully avoided sports my entire life only to be killed by them now? I'm going to be extremely ticked off.
-- Monday would've been my parents' wedding anniversary. Technically, I guess it still was their anniversary, even though, well. Yeah. Dead husband or not, calendar's gonna calendar.
-- Sometimes I wonder if they'd still be together today. The last few years of their marriage were pretty terrible, but they were both so complacent about it. No one thought about leaving. No one expected any better.
-- If we had a family crest, I like to imagine it'd be a knight, shrugging, with a can of Budweiser in one hand. The motto? 'Meh.'
-- (That doesn't require a Latin translation, does it? Nah. It's a universal sentiment.)
-- I was reading a fic last night and --
-- (OK, I know I'm truly an awful person for doing this in a public journal entry, but! I'm hoping to offset some of the bad karma accruage by not naming names or fandoms or platforms. FINGERS CROSSED.)
-- I wanna stress that it was not badly written! But then there was a scene where Pining Guy #1 briefly and mistakenly thinks Pining Guy #2 has asked out someone else, so he --
-- FALLS TO HIS KNEES. RENDS HIS GARMENTS. SCREAMS 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO'. All of it without a hint of irony. This was presented as a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
-- So Guy #2 eventually finds him like that, crumpled on the ground, floor-sobbing, thinks it's cute (????) and they decide they're in love (????). I've been giggling about it all morning.
-- Anyway.
-- I hate to sound like one of those basic bitches who can't wait for fall, but...God. I really can't wait for fall!
-- I mean. The year's already ruined. We may as well fast forward to the part that smells like pumpkins.
-- (Except not really, because I am strange and exactingly specific in my scent preferences, for all that they're based on nothing, and September for me is all about ROSES. It's the month where I do my best to smell like Elizabeth Taylor's funeral 24/7. Like the most romantic football parade in the world! YES.)
-- (But -- pumpkins in spirit! And then, on October 1st, pumpkins in reality!)
-- Hugo turned 15 this summer, and for weeks now I've been meaning to make him pose for a cat-quinceanera photoshoot. Our first attempt was yesterday and ended with him sneezing in my face. And with me losing the will to live for a solid minute and a half.
-- I'll get 'im in the end, though. I know where he lives.
-- I *will* provide middling cat content for all to enjoy, mark my words! That is my pandemic vow!
no subject
Date: 2020-09-03 01:23 pm (UTC)It seems that you have come across one of the myriad examples of 'fictional characters who need slapping'. I am currently listening to 'Sense and Sensibility', and my hands actually twitch whenever Marianne gets all sensibilitish. Stupid girl!
Yes. We demand moar cat content!
no subject
Date: 2020-09-05 12:49 pm (UTC)Also, I really don't want to have to spend the next forty-to-fifty years haunting Serena Williams. She seems cool! I have nothing against her!
Oh-em-gee, Marianne Dashwood! Obviously Regency social norms are not a thing I'm gonna sit here and defend, but every time I think about her yelling and chasing Willoughby across a crowded ballroom, I just wish I could teleport myself there, grab her by the shoulders and say, "Girl, you are embarrassing international icon Emma Thompson. Go have an olive and CALM DOWN."
This cat is extremely photogenic, but his one true joy in life seems to be sneezing on me. It's a problem.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-03 04:27 pm (UTC)Also yes, rending one's garments seems a bit over the top at the news one's crush is going out on a date with someone else.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-05 12:52 pm (UTC)I know the writer, whoever they are, must be very young and earnest. And those aren't bad things to be! But -- my God, the rending. He tore his goddamn shirt in half! I mean!!
no subject
Date: 2020-09-04 08:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-05 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-07 05:45 am (UTC)-- FALLS TO HIS KNEES. RENDS HIS GARMENTS. SCREAMS 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO'. All of it without a hint of irony. This was presented as a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
I love a bit of angst, but that is too much even for me. I mean, come on clothes rending person, have some respect! Or is it rendering? I don't know. Whatever, too much!
I want to see Hugo, he sounds amazing.
And yes, I'd be very happy for autumn to be here too. Though, everything is Christmas around here with products in the shops etc, and that seems to be fastforwarding too much.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-08 12:23 pm (UTC)He's a jerk. But he's my jerk.
Oh, yeah, early September, time to rake in that sweet, sweet Christmas money. Capitalism is RIDICULOUS.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-10 11:25 am (UTC)