Love Shack lyrics for filking

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Day

Well, I woke up. I cleaned the room a bit, and then I had the Little Fayoumis get dressed so we could go to my school, the bank, etc.

I got the DeVry refund check, and went and put it in my bank. My parents want some of it back, which is only fair. Little Fayoumis is learning how to blow gum bubbles. I have quasi-promised him a big-ass bucket of Real Bubblegum from Sam's one of these days.

He was pretty well-behaved about stuff. Since I had money and needed shoes (my only shoes left intact are either sandals or dress shoes) we hit the mall, where I got one pair of heavy-duty sneakers, and two pairs of canvas sneakers (sale!!). The Little Fayoumis got a snack (I'd thoughtfully bought cereal/jam bars while we were at the bank-area, as the prices of fast food are abominable) and we hit the bookstore.

They were having a "buy 4, get 1 free" sale at the bookstore. I was tempted, but nobly picked out a Dragonlance for me (recommended by m'love) and a Jimmy Neutron (When Pants Attack) for LF. Then, I saw the <spoiler> sitting in the bargain pile, and remembered Father's Day.

Little Fayoumis will help me in the wrapping process, as it's for marxdarx.

Little Fayoumis happily read his book all the while we were waiting for the bus. On the bus, there were a bunch of appallingly loud young men (one with entirely gold teeth); I would not have minded the loud part had the subject matter they were broadcasting to the whole bus been age-appropriate for the little ears next to me.

"Those guys back there? The words they're saying?" I murmured to the Little Fayoumis. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to say many of those words." Understatement, understatement.

We came back home, to find marxdarx already back home from school -- wait, he was right on time... so that must mean... eeek, we'd been out that long?

Little Fayoumis was fed, and had some game time, and then some earnest discussion with marxdarx, perhaps with some crying interspersed. He's chilling out with the yowling so much, and is becoming more even-handed; when I kicked him off the TV this morning, he huffed off to his room and sulked for a bit before coming back out and playing other games.

The toy box's relocation to the living room seems to be working. It's easier to manuver around out here, and he's far less likely so far to be leaving oceans of toys on the floor that we must either wade through, or stamp our staves and part, Red Sea-like.

After that, I wound up going out to the dollar store to get essentials like plastic hangers and bubble bath. I returned, then votania returned. In the planning session for tomorrow morning, we noticed that the Little Fayoumis was out of cereal. Oy gods. She offered me the keys; I pointed at my feet firmly, and she hastened herself off to bed whilst I re-stocked the larder.

On the way back, a little bit of a filk began poking at the corners of my head. I need to listen to the original, now, and then read some of the esteemed gentleman's writings some more, that I may better come to grasp the two disparate things that I am so horribly fusing together.

In other news, I am hopeful that the depression that's been on me for the past two weeks should be lifting. It can, any time now... please? It's almost finals week...

Oh, wow. Return of the Yelly Lady!

She's one of our neighbors. She is evidently, from what I've heard, a nurse in a combat zone. Thus, at odd hours of the night, she paces up and down the apartment complex, carrying on at some length in a tearful and very angry (and very profane) tone about things that most of us on this plane don't have access to.

It's interesting. I haven't heard anyone else use the words "God Damn" so much before in my life.

She's either been more quiet than usual lately, or I've been asleep or away when she's been holding forth, lately, until now.

Now, wouldn't *that* just be... ironic.

What would be the odds that a given name would be the same?

Specifically.

I used to be an active and happy part of the official Bujold mailing list. A flamewar ensued, and though I was a part of the firecrew, I was a casualty, as I was quietly unwilling to share the List with "that bitch", as I dubbed one specific active participant of the flaming.

It's not a particularly common name; it's not a particularly common religion (and yes, it was a factor in the flaming).

On another list, there is someone else, different handle -- same religion. And, it turns out, same name.

Not exactly common, either of them. And she's a member of the original List.


...I hope it's one of those very funky coincidences. Or, if the same, that she's mellowed out...

*perk*

Somebody put instant coffee in her slimfast this morning.

So, I'm hyyyyper.

I shared the "Pine Apple" shaggy dog story with the Joking Okie this morning. He groaned. I am happy. My morning is almost complete. My blonder half will hear of this, yes.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/bikergeek/156108.html is hysterical. Install Love!!!

The Little Fayoumis should be showing up any moment now. Marx is dropping him off. Yay!!

*facepalm*

Yeeeargh. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.

And that's all I'm sayin' 'bout it.

Final Exam

Burns told us that we could take our choice between two versions of the final exam.

Version A: one question. Tell me everything you know about Oracle.

Or, we could go for B: the 50-question Scan-Tron.

Pretty

I've decided, as I have Far Too Much Makeup, to actually start wearing the stuff. I don't have to get more when I run out...

...and it can, you know, enhance my natural beauty.

I think I'm going to be making a point of wearing a little glitter every day. I have far too much. I like it! It makes me sparkly! And I might as well go to the trouble of dressing nicely, because if I practice it enough, it'll become second nature again.

The bracelets

Ahhh, Hamilton. 94 and 95.

We wore the bracelets at all times. Either we took them off whenever possible (mangled them so we could, or carefully converted the locking bit to a button/buttonhole with scissors) or we left them on as a point of pride, wearing them at home until they fell off, because we were CTY to the core...

...I still have one, unused, from 95.2, since I had mine from 95.1 still on...


(hehe, should have been to the one CTY community...)

Administrative:

Welcome to cheshcat and girl_nothing, new readers.

Standard disclaimers: high-volume, insane friends list, interact if you want to get to know me better/visa-versa. I'll stop by and check out your journals from time to time; I tend to only have those I read regularly on my friends list. The vast majority of my posts are public; the majority of the non-public posts are private chat logs. There are a few locked posts here & there, but you get most of the story from the public journal.

Joined ctycompile, as CTY's still an interest, despite being a nevermore.

Farewell to faelad.

The Shower Meme (interview)

Questions from minakochan:

1. You often refer to yourself as a priest. What does this mean, and
when did you first realize you were one?

2. What's your favorite saying?

3. If you could erradicate one book from the history of the universe,
which would it be?

4. Choose: Feathers or leather?

5. When was your first same sex encounter?


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Anyone wishing an interview, comment, and I can see if I can think up some questions... anyone who wants to interview me (anything you've been dying to know, too shy to ask) speak up!

Hey, Yakky--

strongsad. The real thing. Totally.

Choices.

The Little Fayoumis just got a choice.

He managed, in the attempt to be watching a movie, to knock over one of the Playstation controllers, which is never a good idea. I asked him how it happened. He didn't know. I told him that since he had knocked it over, he would not be able to watch a movie right away, but he would be allowed to watch a movie an hour from now, after 3:30

I heard the beginnings of a Big Noisy Fuss. I told him that he had a choice: either he could accept watching a movie later, and watch a movie after 3:30, or he could make a Big Noisy Fuss about it and get grounded from movies today.

Fun concepts.

It's bad when you do something bad and don't realize that you're doing something bad. But you get in trouble for it a little, and you get told what you did that was bad, and then you try not to do it again.

It's really bad when you do something that you know you're not supposed to do.

It's still bad if you try to do something that you know you're not supposed to do, and you may get punished at least a fraction of how much you'd get in trouble if you'd actually succeeded in doing it.

Yay! Happy!

Made my peace. Yay! Yay for rationality and happiness and explosions that actually have a reason, no matter how obscure it's made by the following blitzkrieg.

Happy for me! Organization!

Have taken empty plastic crate and affixed shelves inside it, to best organize shoes. Yay, me.

Shower Meme Interviews, Continuing: Religion

tiel asked:

You seem to have grown up in a rather non-traditional household, having been raised in a very rural area, always surrounded (as far as I know) by your current traditions, rather then coming into magic later in life. How do you think you benefited from the experience, and do you think that there is anything significant that you missed out on?

Good one there.

My area is actually far less rural than you might think from my stories about it. I grew up with chickens and geese and ducks and rather a lack of indoor plumbing; my sister's friend just a short walk away had TV and two bathrooms with a patio and indoor garage.

My parents, who evidently could agree that an over-religious childhood was not something they wanted to inflict upon us, didn't. My father was raised Quaker; my mother was raised some other form of Protestant. We occasionally went to First Day meetings at Hidden Hill, but not often.

My father believed in celebrating the natural order of things, and also believed that especially as we lived in Alaska, celebrating the phases of the sun was highly important. We held parties on the Solstices (FatherSir organized one very memorable bash at UAF one summer), and made note of the equinoxes.

My sister and I were never given an organized frame for spirituality, and had to hack out one ourselves. We had very little problem with this. She and I have different ideas about how to go about things now, as is the case with many sisters.

I don't think that we missed out on much. We certainly missed out on a lot of the anguished soul-searching that people who have grown up with an organized religion, and break with that religion, have. When I was old enough, I got curious about the religious options available to me, and instigated a search. (My friend Savil noticed, and gave me some elementary books on magic.)

If anything, my father's influence discouraged me from getting into magic as soon as I might have. He dismissed all aphysical phenomena, or phenomena not directly linked with clearly investigatable cause and effect, as superstition, nonsense, and coincidence. One of my favorite stories about him vs. magic involves him, a voodoo doll, and the Boys' Vice-Principal's broken ankle. Nope. No magic involved there!

One distinct advantage that Narcissa and I did have was the regular celebration of holidays not in the Christian book. Santa Lucia day? Sure.

That's me. Narcissa was standing by with a bucket of water and a far-too-gleeful expression, lest my hair catch fire. We celebrated Chinese New Year, and other random holidays belonging to my father's friends. Christmas was rarely, if ever, at our house; it still doesn't feel like "my" holiday.

I think my parents did all right for me with religion, though.

Hey, Yakky --

Do let me know what your schedule's like for next tri. Post a chart or somethin'.

Sparkly (and not good)

Once upon a time, I was friends with That Idiot Shawn. I was in college, and he and I wound up going, with some friends, to play laser tag.

Now, I had, on a sudden sparkly impulse, taken to wearing a glow-in-the-dark star on my glasses at one corner.

I was wearing all black, but for the laser tag vest & headset, and that one damn star.

Blacklights. Glow-in-the-dark material.

I was a walking, crouching, skittering, blatantly obvious & glowing target.