Ugh

It’s been one of those days—not terrible per se, but a blind rush from start to finish, with not much that seemed rewarding except in hidsight. On the one hand, I suppose it’s sort of great that my six-month-old son is now trying so hard to learn to crawl that he rarely seems interested in anything else; on the other hand, he’s making himself more than usually nuts with it: Refusing to lie on his back, constantly flipping over/lunging/squirming and yelling, refusing to got to sleep unless he screams himself there (which he’s doing right now, while Steve watches our new copy of The Incredibles on DVD, and I try to ignore Cal long enough to write this). I know he’s okay, but it hurts to hear him like this, and it hurts to know it’s just going to go on and on, at least until he masters it. God damn, he’s determined. No idea where he gets that from.;)

This morning we had our tax appointment to go to—this turned out well in some respects (it seems that not only do I not owe the government back GST, but they probably owe me a substantial refund), not so much in others (I’ll have to settle this GST bullshit before they’ll honor my normal tax refund, and no, IAODT did not send me a T-4 for 2004, which I only realized while tallying up receipts last night). We then walked from Bloor and Spadina to Bloor and Yonge, put that cheque I was owed for The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 15 in the bank, and bought goodies at Sunrise: Regatta de Blanc by the Police, Robbie Robertson by Robbie Robertson, Hooper’s Toolbox Murders, the aforementioned The Incredibles. Afterward, we walked home down Yonge, picking up two A. Merritt pulps and a Timeline of History at ABC Books, and ate dinner with Mom, who’s leaving for Florida tomorrow. I fell asleep on her floor, and decided (once it was obvious Cal wasn’t going down easy) to treat the hike as my exercise for today: Annoying, but there it is. I’ll do toning tomorrow, and maybe yoga, to make up for it.

All of which means no writing, aside from this. But I made a couple of decisions regarding the next section, and I’ll be able to concentrate on catching up tomorro--we were supposed the go to Easter dinner at the Barringers’, but my neice-in-law got sick, so it’s been postponed. Smart move: The last time we were all together, Steve, his Mom, his Dad, Cal and I all caught something off my nephew-in-law, and were down for a week. The joys of close contact with tiny little living dsiease vectors.;))

All right. So: On to the really important stuff…the answers to last entry’s ship meme.

( Read more... )

Okay, done. I’m going to bed—let’s see exactly how long we can make it before Cal wakes up shrieking, yet once more.

The Sky Is A Poisonous Garden Tonight

More memeage, via jennyo and musesfool
Off the top of your head, right now, what ten 'ships would you likely drop what you're doing to read fic for. Or, alternately, what are the top ten ships that you'll give a fic a chance for, or that you've been dying to write, or that you've been dying to read.... These can be new loves, old flames, or something in between. Explain if you like, but you don't have to. Then tell us three things these ships say about you.

All right, let’s take this by current TV fandom, shall we? Just to be thorough.

Battlestar Galactica (New):

1. Number Six/Gaius Baltar—because it’s sick, dirty, wrong, possibly an hallucination, not to mention both a sly exploitation of my previously unexplored small guy/tall woman fetish AND a semi-blasphemous OT3 with an AI that thinks it’s "God" as the unseen third partner. So really, what’s not to like?

2. Starbuck (Kara Thrace)/Apollo (Lee Adama), as friends--old and married, but otherwise still friends in that classically guy-like way, even though she’s very much not a guy and he’s very much starting the see that. Because I think it’d frankly denigrate their otherwise exciting relationship to have it go the way of all canon het, not to mention getting inconveniently in the way of potential Apollo/Roslyn or Starbuck/Baltar.

3. Laura Roslyn/Cmdr. William Adama—because they’re old and un"pretty" (not that I don’t find either attractive, but this is TV) and not exactly made for each other, yet I’ve seen far worse foxhole mismatches evolve into deep and stringent pseudo-marriages of inconvenience. And I like the fact that they’re sort of like Apollo and Starbuck grown up, sexes reversed; it adds yet more icky pull to the sparks of "damn you think like me"-ness I see between Roslyn and Apollo, for that very reason. (I also suspect that Lee is far more like his mom than Zak was, which would made Roslyn also much like Adama’s former wife, and explain a lot of their early conflicts. By simple extension.;))

24: 4

4. Tony Almeida/Michelle Dessler—because it’s never a good reason to marry somebody you meet at work and then continue to work with them, and this is Example A-1 with a fucking bullet of that particular mantra. Because they bring out both the best and the worst in each other, routinely; because they’re equally pretty, and prickly, and ruthlessly practical. Because they once sacrificed everything to preserve their love and then apparently threw it all away for ambition/and or inertia’s sake, and are now bravely/stupidly pretending they’re still fine with that decision. Because I genuinely want to see exactly how long it’s going to take Tony to knock Michelle off her high heels and over a desk, after which I want to see how long it takes her to drop the gun she has to his head and kiss him, you fool! ‘Cause I’m Romantic with a capital "R" like that, especially when we’re talking married counter-terrorism agents.

5. Edgar/Chloe, poster children for high-functional Asperger’s in the service of the U.S. of A. Granted, CSI (any version) is probably slightly more of a hotbed of this type of barely-controlled lunacy than CTU, but it’s a damn close thing, and I think they’d be sweet together. (Not to mention that I really get off on the idea of her grumpily ordering him around, while he makes power-point lists of all the things they could/should do together. Which doesn’t necessarily mean I’d like to watch them in NC-17 action, but I’d be perfectly fine with PG "Don’t move my curtains! I have them adjusted down to just the right milimeter!"-fic.)

Lost

Dude, they’re all probably going to be on that island for a looooong damn time—I’d be really surprised if they didn’t start pairing off and screwing like bunnies any day now, first heterosexually, then any which way but loose. And I like them all, so it’s pretty much a potential schmorgasbord. Canonically, my picks would probably be 6. Kate/Jack/Sawyer as an OT3 (though Wednesday’s events may well derail this idea), 7. Jin/Sun and Sun/Michael, 8. Shannon/Boone and Shannon/Sayid or 9. Charlie/Claire, but I could also just as easily get uncanonical and go for Sayid/Rousseau the crazy French lady, Sayid/Sawyer, Locke/Boone or Hurley/anyone who’s interested. Actually, make that Locke/anyone too. Because that guy is scary and hot: He’s Terry O’Quinn, bitch! ‘Nuff said.

And finally—

Point Pleasant

10. Boyd/Christina, because it’s really the only logical option for either of them. Yeah, she’s obsessed with Jesse the surfin’ possible Antichrist-killer, and it’d be sort of cute to see her get down with her equally confused friend Judy (especially now they’ve begun tying people to chairs together); yeah, he’s been running around town putting the moves on pretty much anything in heels (Jesse’s Mom, Judy’s Mom, Jesse’s slut girlfriend’s slutty Mom), and may also have something going with Jesse’s best friend/his not-Warren from Buffy assistant in matters EEEVIL, too. (He even once said poor dead Father Tomas was "a real hottie", though I’m not sure that’s leading anywhere, unless they do the Dark Shadows Ghost Trick on him.) But she’s a half-demon desperate to be human, and he’s a half-inhuman desperate to forget he ever had that inconvenient drawback known as an immortal soul, and they’re both wicked hot in a slightly dorky way. And don’t forget, when she does something evil, she feels close to him. Like she understands him. It’s Fate, or maybe just Nookie.;))

And what does all this say about me? That I’m het-er than most people think? That I’m easier to please now I’m old and have a kid? That conflict is still my primary spice? You decide, and comment if you wish. I have to try and get that damn chapter closed off now, before they take away my writer’s license.

But then again…they all do reinforce the fact that my mind really is a deep, dark mulch-pit of very personally specific weirdness—always has been, always will be. After all, I once made serious notes for a piece involving Michael Clarke Duncan/Tim Roth (Planet Of The Apes 2001), and discovering Rivka’s sole Guy Pearce/Jim Cavaziel (The Count Of Monte Cristo) story made me warm inside for days. Some of my most formative ‘ships are ones no one else on the face of the earth seems to share: Gary Kemp/Martin Kemp (The Krays--although, to be fair, Tinantanoo once wrote three Krays-themed PWPs), "Sir" Laurence Fishburne/Jeff Goldblum (Deep Cover), Nicholas Cage/Matthew Modine (Birdy). Always a decade late and three cents short of a fannish dollar, that’s me.

But I must admit, I sort of like the view from here.;)