Sunday, August 9th, 2009 10:15 pm
that doesn't explain the ocean
So when I found out there is actual wireless here, I got very excited, but also I was totally I am on vacation. I do not need the internet. Which is a filthy lie, because Arthur the phone has an Android browser, so who was I fooling? No one.
Things to ponder (in no particular order):
1.) On paper, sitting on a wide porch with the breeze in your hair, wearing your bikini and a gauze skirt, and writing in view of the ocean sounds like, inspirational and so romantic. It so totally is not. The wind is windy, the sandy is sandy, and your keyboard gets fucking sticky and your monitor isnt' thrilled either. Just note it. I mean, I am writing, because I'm an obsessed fangirl and this story is sixty two fucking thousand words, which is twenty over what I meant to do with this one and I'm still about 30K from done (God I hope its' only 30K. Don't hold this against me). My betas totally want me dead.
Also, I'm in pajama bottoms and a long sleeve red shirt because breezes are chilly even in August.
2.) I think any food eaten by a body of salt water is "sea food". As I do not like many things that come from the ocean.
3.) We bleached Child's hair. There is a lesson in this.
We bleached Child's hair becuase I've been promising forever we could dye it green for fun. Well, we got manic panic and it totally did not take at all, except a faint olive thing. So I got a bleach kit, did the deed--and Child loves it. It is so hideous. And he's sunburned, and his hair is blond and a weird orangecopper highlight and it clashes. He looks like a surfer gone horribly wrong. He's also boogie-boarding, which just make ti all the more embarrassing. Green. It's like what is wrong with electric lizard green? This is my life. The lesson: do not let your child see the bleached hair before applying teh green dye.
Listening to Jesse McCartney and hating myself less than I did. There is something wrong with that.
(Yes. I am at the beach, on vacation, writing fanfic like it is a disorder. Which you know, it is. I am down with that. Star Trek is not a fandom, it's a lifestyle choice, like flip flops and coffee.)
Things to ponder (in no particular order):
1.) On paper, sitting on a wide porch with the breeze in your hair, wearing your bikini and a gauze skirt, and writing in view of the ocean sounds like, inspirational and so romantic. It so totally is not. The wind is windy, the sandy is sandy, and your keyboard gets fucking sticky and your monitor isnt' thrilled either. Just note it. I mean, I am writing, because I'm an obsessed fangirl and this story is sixty two fucking thousand words, which is twenty over what I meant to do with this one and I'm still about 30K from done (God I hope its' only 30K. Don't hold this against me). My betas totally want me dead.
Also, I'm in pajama bottoms and a long sleeve red shirt because breezes are chilly even in August.
2.) I think any food eaten by a body of salt water is "sea food". As I do not like many things that come from the ocean.
3.) We bleached Child's hair. There is a lesson in this.
We bleached Child's hair becuase I've been promising forever we could dye it green for fun. Well, we got manic panic and it totally did not take at all, except a faint olive thing. So I got a bleach kit, did the deed--and Child loves it. It is so hideous. And he's sunburned, and his hair is blond and a weird orangecopper highlight and it clashes. He looks like a surfer gone horribly wrong. He's also boogie-boarding, which just make ti all the more embarrassing. Green. It's like what is wrong with electric lizard green? This is my life. The lesson: do not let your child see the bleached hair before applying teh green dye.
Listening to Jesse McCartney and hating myself less than I did. There is something wrong with that.
(Yes. I am at the beach, on vacation, writing fanfic like it is a disorder. Which you know, it is. I am down with that. Star Trek is not a fandom, it's a lifestyle choice, like flip flops and coffee.)
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From:Sounds like you're having fun. I envy you!
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From:I am thinking of this, and I am laughing really really hard.
It sounds like the best vacation ever.
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From:Also, of course Child adores bleached hair! Especially with just the right hint of olive. *g*
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From:*moody*
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From:The girl went to play at a friend's house the other day. A little friend (Who admittedly is now my height, but that is SO not the point) that she has known for years!
And she comes home with black nail polish.
To match her black and gray Miami Ink T-shirt (bought in the men's department). One of the five or six she bought after I stood behind her and and repeated, over and over and over, the montra, "Nope, no skulls. I will not buy you any shirts with skulls. Nope, no AC/DC either. You don't even know who they ARE."
And she wants to dye her hair BLUE.
None of this would bother me if she weren't going back to school in the fall after two years of homeschooling, and she LISTENS TO CLASSICAL MUSIC AND BRITTNEY SPEARS!!!!
Is there any way she won't get eaten alive?
I keep thinking I need to call her cousin, who play in a metal band, to come down for an intervention.
*headdesk*
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From:*sigh*
No doubt I should just chill out. No one likes middle school. I should just accept that.
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From:As for the music... try transitioning her from Britney Spears into metal? Like, Britney->punkpop->punk->metal? I don't know, at least if she starts listening to Decaydance bands she might not be cannibalized.
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From:She is half Japanese and has that gorgeous, thick, heavy, Japanese hair. It's not quite black, but close.
I don't know WHAT to do about the music. But I think I will ask her cousin to send a list of bands and songs that he recommends.
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From:The red sounds pretty actually - maybe you should get red highlights to emphasize it.
:-)
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From:The Wonder Woman hair sounds really COOL actually!
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From:LOL again on the fanfic disorder. I took my laptop on a cruise and wrote. :P So I can so see doing it on a beach. But try and at least walk on the beach and enjoy it a bit. The fanfic will be there when you get back.
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From:Amen
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From:Truer words have never been spoken. Only, in my experience, once it's dug its claws into you, solidly? It ceases to be a choice so much as a necessity.
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