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The Royal Wedding
Apr. 28th, 2011 09:33 amYeah, I know. But if you write HP fanfic, and you need a nice traditional name for a character, check out one of those lists calling itself a "line of succession" which is really just a list of people who can reasonably claim to be members of the royal family.
Real news (not involving loss of life like tornadoes in Alabama and Mississippi): I read this article in SpinOff magazine comparing the effects of various types of brake bands on Scotch tension wheels by a lady whose adorable school-age daughter is also an accomplished fiber diva; I put a fat butcher string brake band on the new Fricke wheel ("Barbara". Shut up, it's funny.) and WALLA! as they say in the midwest -- fat, soft yarn!
Also, in my training for the next Tasmanian fine thread competition, I'm down to .035g/m, which is respectable (comparable to regular sewing thread: the world record is something like .0065). Now I have to work on doing 10 grams at that gauge without losing focus and having my thread turn into rope.
Real news (not involving loss of life like tornadoes in Alabama and Mississippi): I read this article in SpinOff magazine comparing the effects of various types of brake bands on Scotch tension wheels by a lady whose adorable school-age daughter is also an accomplished fiber diva; I put a fat butcher string brake band on the new Fricke wheel ("Barbara". Shut up, it's funny.) and WALLA! as they say in the midwest -- fat, soft yarn!
Also, in my training for the next Tasmanian fine thread competition, I'm down to .035g/m, which is respectable (comparable to regular sewing thread: the world record is something like .0065). Now I have to work on doing 10 grams at that gauge without losing focus and having my thread turn into rope.
Fauna of the Avatar World
Aug. 13th, 2010 09:22 amNo, the real Avatar, who brings harmony to the (entirely artificial and imaginary) world -- Aang, The Last Airbender. Except he apparently fathers the beginnings of a whole new race of airbenders with Katara. Which is icky.
Anyhow, if you're a fan of the show, and you also feel that not enough fun has been had with the "God particle", voila the HoggBison:
heh, heh. I crack me up...
Anyhow, if you're a fan of the show, and you also feel that not enough fun has been had with the "God particle", voila the HoggBison:
heh, heh. I crack me up...
Ska-REEEEMMMM!!!
Feb. 11th, 2010 12:38 am"The biopic on his life is due to start filming later this year, with Rupert Grint — known for his work in the Harry Potter films — playing Eddie."
Guess which Eddie?
The Eagle!!!!
Lord, I hope that's true! I would totally leave my apartment for that!
Guess which Eddie?
The Eagle!!!!
Lord, I hope that's true! I would totally leave my apartment for that!
Lives of the Saints
Feb. 1st, 2010 08:32 amThis one is for -- well, you know who you are.
St. Severus
The one fanfic I wrote featuring you-know-who (not, not the bald one) gave his middle name as Aquinas. 'Cause I totally nailed him as a Jebbie from Book I.
St. Severus
The one fanfic I wrote featuring you-know-who (not, not the bald one) gave his middle name as Aquinas. 'Cause I totally nailed him as a Jebbie from Book I.
The Panhandler Formerly Known as Voldemort finds out that the whole Evil Overlord thing is so over. The other big dollies wouldn't talk to him since he came out of the cauldron without shoes; the mean Barbies took his robe and his cloak, so he's reduced to begging for spare change.
Hosteen Yazzie isn't having any. "Jo-kayed-goh chay-da-gahi ba-ah-hot-gli!" he says sternly, and it just so happens we have a tank handy.
Crazier Than Me
Jul. 23rd, 2009 12:45 pmQuotage from a forum in an online spinning community:
"I made the mistake of trying to spin drunk on the beach because “Hey, I’m drunk! That should be challenge enough!”"
Oh, and I was treated to a private screening of HBP last night. Well, either it was a private screening for me and about a dozen of my closest friends, or this movie has run out of steam.
The first two movies I liked because they followed the books with a plodding literalness, which is what children want in a movie taken from a book. But as children become teenagers, they get all sophistical and want auteurity, with which my inner child has no patience, and which my adult self finds tiresome.
Also my adult self reacted physically, like with a full-body goose-stepping-on-my-grave shudder, to the 9/11 reference in the beginning when the bridge collapses. I remember walking to the big window in the DeutscheBank with just that look on my face as the people in that restaurant.
And watching "Marcus Belby", thinking about how the actor was killed, in a way that recalls how essentially true the books are...
Very pretty film, though: if you're young enough to tolerate IMAX, see it in that format.
"I made the mistake of trying to spin drunk on the beach because “Hey, I’m drunk! That should be challenge enough!”"
Oh, and I was treated to a private screening of HBP last night. Well, either it was a private screening for me and about a dozen of my closest friends, or this movie has run out of steam.
The first two movies I liked because they followed the books with a plodding literalness, which is what children want in a movie taken from a book. But as children become teenagers, they get all sophistical and want auteurity, with which my inner child has no patience, and which my adult self finds tiresome.
Also my adult self reacted physically, like with a full-body goose-stepping-on-my-grave shudder, to the 9/11 reference in the beginning when the bridge collapses. I remember walking to the big window in the DeutscheBank with just that look on my face as the people in that restaurant.
And watching "Marcus Belby", thinking about how the actor was killed, in a way that recalls how essentially true the books are...
Very pretty film, though: if you're young enough to tolerate IMAX, see it in that format.
"...the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility
and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend
and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."
American Black Catholics, in the northeast of the country at least, tend to subscribe to the Irish style of mourning, which is to say, rollicking, even though in this case there was, atypically, no alcohol (my brother was one of the few teetotalers who could party with the jolliest drunks and you'd never know he was the sober one.) There was a super turnout, and nobody over the age of forty could figure out whence they knew anybody else, or how they were related, if at all. People turned up from as far away as California, Texas, Nevada: that AF 1LT bearing the urn is The Son.
The kids my brother coached turned up in their basketball uniforms; the Little Diva had a smaller boy trailing her around adoringly all afternoon. The Evil Niece was at her best; she may be a soulless fiend, but above all, she is a performance artist, as is everyone in the family. She looked tiny and fragile delivering a very moving eulogy that almost fooled even me. Several diabetics had to leave early, but the old ladies (including junior seniors like myself) were entirely charmed.
The schoolkids sat more patiently than the adults waiting for someone to figure out how to project the slideshow of the BoyBaby from a year or two after birth to an equal time span before death.
I assume it went all right from his end as I haven't had any weird dreams or nightmares; I did, however, wake up with horrific crippling muscle cramps in my left buttock, the same quadrant of the body as the bone metastasis that was giving him pain I thought was muscle spasms from lack of exercise. Very funny, Little Bro...
Nobody Asked *Me*, But...
Apr. 19th, 2009 01:02 amThere was a fanfic game on someone else's LJ for which I didn't sign up, because, you know, that attention deficit thing: no way to tell where my head would be when the time came.
But I just happen to have something in my stash for this prompt:
( Pansy Parkinson After The War )
And I have a dollie-Pansy and a mandollie-Blaise, too, but I'm over taking pictures of every little thing the dollies get up to. There are hundreds of them, and they're everywhere. I couldn't possibly keep up.
But I just happen to have something in my stash for this prompt:
( Pansy Parkinson After The War )
And I have a dollie-Pansy and a mandollie-Blaise, too, but I'm over taking pictures of every little thing the dollies get up to. There are hundreds of them, and they're everywhere. I couldn't possibly keep up.
(no subject)
Apr. 7th, 2009 01:13 amI wrote this in response to the prompt Sirius Black isn't dead. He's living in New Jersey. Oxymoronic, I'd say, but don't get me wrong. Some of my best friends and closest relatives reside in the Garden State.
( Things To Do In Jersey When You're Dead )
There was no response. Philistines. So I'm posting it on my LJ so I can enjoy it without opening up that gruesome Vista version of Word.
( Things To Do In Jersey When You're Dead )
There was no response. Philistines. So I'm posting it on my LJ so I can enjoy it without opening up that gruesome Vista version of Word.
Canon-Compliant II
Oct. 26th, 2008 07:46 pmHarry and Ron, amazingly, settle into office work quite happily. After revolutionizing the Auror Academy and becoming Head of the entire Division, Harry fills his corner office with Wizard Wheezes, dart-boards, a basketball hoop, a miniature putting green. Ron, Senior Deputy Head (Consulting), drops in occasionally to play with Harry's toys, his own office being entirely taken up by a holographic 3-D modeling system invented by his bossy wife (when she was his annoying girlfriend) which allows him to plot logistics and tactics like playing wizard chess, except he can do it from his big fancy reclining chair, feet on his desk, lazily twirling his wand.
It is a testament to their skill, experience and dedication that their jobs are no longer terribly interesting. Ron, in fact, only comes in once or twice a week, as a rule, and mostly to hang out with Harry. He saved up his Sickles from working part time at George's shop and fulfilled a childhood dream, buying Fortescue's long-shuttered ice-cream parlor and reopening it as "Florian's Goodies, a division of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". All of the presumably late Mr. Fortescue's specialties are still available, although with an increased tendency to explode. Wealth has not spoiled Ron Weasley: he's still very silly.
Of The Golden Trio's five children, only James likes to visit Dad at work. He bounces off the walls, climbs up the file cabinets, pulls the books off the shelves and builds forts, snoops in Dad's desk. Every time he comes home from a visit with Dad, Ginny holds him upside down by his ankles and shakes him until all the things he's nicked from Harry's office come hailing out of his pockets. Then she swats him upside the head, and he runs off laughing. (Physical discipline makes Harry cringe. But James needs a firm hand. Solemn, neurotic little Albus is Harry's child.)
Rose has a quill and clipboard just like Mummy's, and follows her around the office with the same swotty expression; all the secretaries thought it was perfectly adorable until Rose became articulate enough to ask pointed questions and stare with pursed lips while waiting for an answer.
The children don't at all mind being left with grandparents, even Rose and Hugo Granger, who give them sugar-free Muggle treats and let them watch television, answer the telephone when telemarketers call, and send e-mails to cartoon characters. Lily, an indifferent but enthusiastic flyer, is a terror on the skateboard: she and Hugo are always covered in scrapes and bruises.
Ginny never learned household skills, and Molly never tried to teach her. "She's a smart girl and a tough girl. If she needs to, she'll figure it out." She not-so-secretly hoped her only daughter, the first Weasley girl in generations, wouldn't need to.
The only domestic chore Ginny ever did was embroider some tea-towels the minute Harry produced the ring. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing: she'd mellowed. And Winky was overcome with gratitude, it had to be admitted.
It is a testament to their skill, experience and dedication that their jobs are no longer terribly interesting. Ron, in fact, only comes in once or twice a week, as a rule, and mostly to hang out with Harry. He saved up his Sickles from working part time at George's shop and fulfilled a childhood dream, buying Fortescue's long-shuttered ice-cream parlor and reopening it as "Florian's Goodies, a division of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". All of the presumably late Mr. Fortescue's specialties are still available, although with an increased tendency to explode. Wealth has not spoiled Ron Weasley: he's still very silly.
Of The Golden Trio's five children, only James likes to visit Dad at work. He bounces off the walls, climbs up the file cabinets, pulls the books off the shelves and builds forts, snoops in Dad's desk. Every time he comes home from a visit with Dad, Ginny holds him upside down by his ankles and shakes him until all the things he's nicked from Harry's office come hailing out of his pockets. Then she swats him upside the head, and he runs off laughing. (Physical discipline makes Harry cringe. But James needs a firm hand. Solemn, neurotic little Albus is Harry's child.)
Rose has a quill and clipboard just like Mummy's, and follows her around the office with the same swotty expression; all the secretaries thought it was perfectly adorable until Rose became articulate enough to ask pointed questions and stare with pursed lips while waiting for an answer.
The children don't at all mind being left with grandparents, even Rose and Hugo Granger, who give them sugar-free Muggle treats and let them watch television, answer the telephone when telemarketers call, and send e-mails to cartoon characters. Lily, an indifferent but enthusiastic flyer, is a terror on the skateboard: she and Hugo are always covered in scrapes and bruises.
Ginny never learned household skills, and Molly never tried to teach her. "She's a smart girl and a tough girl. If she needs to, she'll figure it out." She not-so-secretly hoped her only daughter, the first Weasley girl in generations, wouldn't need to.
The only domestic chore Ginny ever did was embroider some tea-towels the minute Harry produced the ring. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing: she'd mellowed. And Winky was overcome with gratitude, it had to be admitted.
Canon Compliant I
Oct. 23rd, 2008 08:40 pmVery few people get Ginny Weasley, unless they've been in the military: there are two kinds of tomboy, and Ginny is the other kind, a wild girl, athletic, brazen, promiscuous, unapologetic.
"A what?" she screams as she draws down on Ron. "A what, exactly?" Here's the "over-the-shoulder" section of the scene (you know, the scenes JKR writes, knows she isn't going to get away with, and tosses over her shoulder): "A whore? A 'scarlet woman'? You shut your damn mouth or I will put you in a full-body bind, fuck every Slytherin in your year, male, female and indifferent, and make you watch!"
What about Harry? Gay as Christmas, bless him, and probably the last person to figure it out, stalking Malfoy and all (turns out his suspicions were spot on, but still.) Ginny, loving Harry from the soul, had to take him down by the lake and punch his ticket for him just so he wouldn't have Destined To Die A Virgin floating over his head like a halo, as clear as the lightning scar.
Girls like Ginny don't pine. They might sigh deeply when nobody's looking. But Ginny Weasley is a hot redhead, a war heroine, a Quidditch diva. She's got things to see and people to do. Plus she has to figure out how she's going to forgive Harry for shutting her out of the battle as Luna runs past with Dean; for not trusting her courage, her warrior spirit.
Harry and Ron never go back for their NEWTs (I accept the author's statements as canon. It's her world.) They go to Auror Academy. Maybe Harry helps out at the shop part time with Ron. They act like idiots. They regress. They have some serious teenagery to catch up on before they settle down.
Harry can't talk sexual orientation with Ron. Ron is way too straight. He's the first normal person Harry ever meets that bonds with him. Hermione, who is heaping Muggle university-level credentials on top of her NEWTs, has done a paper on human sexuality and insists on sharing the results of her research with Harry, which naturally terrifies him.
Charlie is very like Ginny, except he doesn't have a soulmate. He recoils from the very idea of sex with Harry as disgusting and incestuous, but Hermione convinces him that it would be a duty and a kindness to help the poor boy explore and resolve this issue. They "date" for a month or so (it takes that long for Charlie to get over the squick factor.) Wizarding gay bars, of course, are out of the question; the first time they visit a Muggle piano bar, Harry draws so much interest he almost wets himself until Charlie, noticing Harry's discomfort, has the presence of mind to drape a proprietary arm around his shoulder before escorting him to the bathroom. Awkward.
How was the sex for Harry? He never really figures that out. He'd have had to get a real boyfriend – on his own. Charlie's discomfiture quickly gets the better of him and he scampers back to Romania where he suffers from psychosomatic erectile dysfunction for nearly a year, plus even Hermione has to admit that it has become tiresome Obliviating Ron after every meal, and more importantly, what cumulative deleterious psychological effect might it have on the future father of her children?
Ginny loves him. Of that Harry is sure. Sex with her was okay; it wasn't scary and it didn't hurt, not even the first time. Nobody would ask him embarrassing questions in public, and if they did, Ginny would hex them. Harry rather thought that if his parents had lived, they would have loved him no matter what, but from what Hermione had told him, one couldn't expect that to be the case, so there was a good chance he'd have to be the man and protect and shield his lover. He could, of course: hadn't he done the favor for the entire Wizarding world? But he'd had enough trouble to last him a lifetime. He just wanted to be normal.
Ginny made a rude noise as she rolled her eyes. "A more romantic proposal no girl could wish for, Potter." But Harry looked so lost and panicky that she had to laugh.
It was just as well, then, that Harry Potter, recent distinguished graduate of the Auror Academy, started showing up at every match the Holyhead Harpies played, bearing massive floral tributes and other ridiculously extravagant gifts for star Chaser and reserve Seeker Ginny Weasley, because rude rumors had begun to surface...
"A what?" she screams as she draws down on Ron. "A what, exactly?" Here's the "over-the-shoulder" section of the scene (you know, the scenes JKR writes, knows she isn't going to get away with, and tosses over her shoulder): "A whore? A 'scarlet woman'? You shut your damn mouth or I will put you in a full-body bind, fuck every Slytherin in your year, male, female and indifferent, and make you watch!"
What about Harry? Gay as Christmas, bless him, and probably the last person to figure it out, stalking Malfoy and all (turns out his suspicions were spot on, but still.) Ginny, loving Harry from the soul, had to take him down by the lake and punch his ticket for him just so he wouldn't have Destined To Die A Virgin floating over his head like a halo, as clear as the lightning scar.
Girls like Ginny don't pine. They might sigh deeply when nobody's looking. But Ginny Weasley is a hot redhead, a war heroine, a Quidditch diva. She's got things to see and people to do. Plus she has to figure out how she's going to forgive Harry for shutting her out of the battle as Luna runs past with Dean; for not trusting her courage, her warrior spirit.
Harry and Ron never go back for their NEWTs (I accept the author's statements as canon. It's her world.) They go to Auror Academy. Maybe Harry helps out at the shop part time with Ron. They act like idiots. They regress. They have some serious teenagery to catch up on before they settle down.
Harry can't talk sexual orientation with Ron. Ron is way too straight. He's the first normal person Harry ever meets that bonds with him. Hermione, who is heaping Muggle university-level credentials on top of her NEWTs, has done a paper on human sexuality and insists on sharing the results of her research with Harry, which naturally terrifies him.
Charlie is very like Ginny, except he doesn't have a soulmate. He recoils from the very idea of sex with Harry as disgusting and incestuous, but Hermione convinces him that it would be a duty and a kindness to help the poor boy explore and resolve this issue. They "date" for a month or so (it takes that long for Charlie to get over the squick factor.) Wizarding gay bars, of course, are out of the question; the first time they visit a Muggle piano bar, Harry draws so much interest he almost wets himself until Charlie, noticing Harry's discomfort, has the presence of mind to drape a proprietary arm around his shoulder before escorting him to the bathroom. Awkward.
How was the sex for Harry? He never really figures that out. He'd have had to get a real boyfriend – on his own. Charlie's discomfiture quickly gets the better of him and he scampers back to Romania where he suffers from psychosomatic erectile dysfunction for nearly a year, plus even Hermione has to admit that it has become tiresome Obliviating Ron after every meal, and more importantly, what cumulative deleterious psychological effect might it have on the future father of her children?
Ginny loves him. Of that Harry is sure. Sex with her was okay; it wasn't scary and it didn't hurt, not even the first time. Nobody would ask him embarrassing questions in public, and if they did, Ginny would hex them. Harry rather thought that if his parents had lived, they would have loved him no matter what, but from what Hermione had told him, one couldn't expect that to be the case, so there was a good chance he'd have to be the man and protect and shield his lover. He could, of course: hadn't he done the favor for the entire Wizarding world? But he'd had enough trouble to last him a lifetime. He just wanted to be normal.
Ginny made a rude noise as she rolled her eyes. "A more romantic proposal no girl could wish for, Potter." But Harry looked so lost and panicky that she had to laugh.
It was just as well, then, that Harry Potter, recent distinguished graduate of the Auror Academy, started showing up at every match the Holyhead Harpies played, bearing massive floral tributes and other ridiculously extravagant gifts for star Chaser and reserve Seeker Ginny Weasley, because rude rumors had begun to surface...
