Skibadee, skibadayja!

My AirPort is DEAD. Completely fried. Even Tech Friend Tim couldn't fix it. I cannot connect to the internet-- I'm currently in a Panera, using their free wifi.

So I probably won't be on nearly as much, and probably after the hours of about 3pm, mountain time.

Sorry to everyone, but this probably won't be resolved without the purchase of a new airport (or an upgrade to a TimeCapsule).

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. If you absolutely can't write, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to offer drawings or icons or something instead.

1. drelfina: Wufei/Heero and/or Trowa, tigers. done!
2. __wilderness__: Dusty/Darkrist
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.

So, uh, drabbles 'cause I can't draw.

For Mish, who wanted pictures.

Life is numb, throbby pain.

I need a damn root canal.

Drel! I never knew!

Hey, could happen. No reason why it wouldn't work, anyway, except for my own ability to procrastinate and wander away from things. Then again, if I made updating my LJ as a method of procrastination, it could catch...

...anyway. Does anybody who reads this thing think that a human ancestor's movement of the major foramen (hole where the spine plugs in), which was made necessary by the upright posture, was responsible for increased brain size/development?

You know, there are certain things that I always feel like I should do, one of them being post to this thing more regularly.

For those who are even vaguely interested, my renewed interest in GW (mostly because of having to re-watch the series for an RP so I am once more familiar with the canon) has led me to once again try my hand at fic.

Supposedly, I'm a relatively good writer now. How much of this is dependent upon my muse at the moment of writing (as in, whether or not I've taken my time to do research or whether it's just a matter of being HO YEZ GOOD IDEA WRITE DOWN 1200 WORDS YES NOW WOOHOO CRACK at the time of writing) or dependent upon how recently I've read something Victorian and gothic (I'm talking Elizabeth Gaskell here, folks), I'm only halfway sure of seeing as that which I'm trying to write, and to not spoil anyone for, is honestly my first serious attempt.

'Cranford' really sounds like it should be the name of some kind of sweet bread taken with tea.

...I need tea.

I should be working on an paper, a research summary and analysis that is due tomorrow. At this moment, I have twenty two hours to do it, and at least some of those are going to be taken up with sleeping or eating. Fortunately, I am on a laptop and therefore can sit in the kitchen to do this.

Sitting here also has the value that I'm not tempted to curl up for a nap, since I'd probably wake up at about ten minutes until midnight and bang out something that can best be approximated as 'utter shite'.

So far, I'm thinking of writing it on subculture and sexuality, since my rather broad prompt is 'sexuality' and my instructor basically told us to just pick something, as long as it relates.

Acceptance and prevalence of alternative brands of sexuality in subculture relates, doesn't it?

Edit: And now my kitty has come to see me and steal my food.

Cat butts are gross.

So, it's 10:33pm and I'm sitting in my kitchen, eating PopTarts. Except they aren't PopTarts.

They're some kind of generic version, a little squarer, a little more filled. Alone, they taste like cough medicine and smell like a cat's ass.

Paired with hot cocoa that has had a chocolate-mint candy cane left over from a month ago dissolved in it?

They taste like heaven.

The strange, cough medicine like flavoring within that has to be artificial in nature melts, somehow melding with the flavor of the cocoa into becoming softer. Not so harsh. The crust, the 'pocket', if you will, absorbs the moisture and flavor easily but does not break and dissolve into the drink (which would surely disturb the drinker with a mess of floaties later on).

They're generic. Cheaper. Most would argue automatically that PopTarts must be better, since that is the more well-known brand and the kind most are familiar with.

I favor the cherry.

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And among other things, involving going through half of a book in Borders and my parents whispering and being sneaking and acting strange behind my back, I got a Mai Tai thing.

We discover that I have a complicated relationship with Mai Tais, and that my sister will do damn near anything, including stealing my swizzle stick to get at the alcoholic residue on it, if she thinks she can get away with it.

*receives "'Olu (something) Mai Tai"*
*sip* "...huh. Mreh."
*stirs* *sips* "Bleah."
*two minutes later* *sips* "Bleah?"
*two minutes later again* *sips* "...hm. Bleah."
*keeps sipping* "Yrch."
*discovers ability to suck down half a Mai Tai in thirty seconds so long as the steam's pointing at roof of mouth and therefore unable to taste* "Hrrrrm."

The toilet is my thinky place.

That is all.

So Paumalou's dead.

She had cancer of the nose that was slowly abrading the blood vessels inside it, and a large enough blood vessel was finally abraded that her bleeding to death from it was a very real possibility. Paumalou had been bleeding in a slow trickle near-constantly, and throwing clots throughout the day. At times, she was having difficulty breathing. We refused to watch her suffer any more, feeling that the price of living was outweighing the enjoyments she had in life.

We made the decision to have her euthanized on Sunday the 9th after having to inject a syringe of epinephrine into her left nostril to stop an incidence of very heavy bleeding which I thought fell under the definition of 'hemorrhage', and it's affecting me badly.

She died quickly and surrounded by family, after having been on a good walk in the park, getting treats whenever she wanted, and getting a double dose of her medication at breakfast so she'd be really feeling good.

After that, we took her to the vet where she received something to make her sleepy and then a lethal dose of anesthetic.

She's already sorely missed.

Okay. Everybody sees my nifty little margarita, right? It's my default icon.

So why did I have a default icon of some chibi snoozing on a desk not two minutes ago? Is this some kind of LJ-virus? Should I change all my passwords?

You know you have a UTI when...

Your doctor expresses astonishment at the level of nitrites in your urine.

Your urine has been the color of apple cider for the past three days.

It smells like a combination of old attic and bacon.

You get an appointment within a half-hour of your calling time.

Your doctor informs you that said 'apple cider' turns hot pink after a test that 1 in 10 people with a UTI are positive for.

You have blood, protein, and 'a ton of nitrites' in it, but no white blood cells (good).

They give you ten day's worth of two-per-day antibiotics, plus one anti-yeast-infection.

You drank a quart of cranberry juice last night in one sitting for no particular reason.

My life is really rather boring.

For instance, I just attempted to put on a bra I own.

There was a loud snap, a pop, and then I did not have a right bra strap anymore.

See? Boring (except for the, y'know, 'my boobs break stuff' aspect of it).

So I, uh, had a brilliant 'inspired' (but still completely cracked) idea regarding the KT RP I'm in.

...let's just say it'd probably definitely establish once and for all that my Tro is not the Tro from Dark's Duo's universe and leave it at that for the moment, okay? I have a feeling Momo-mod might kill me if I start talking about it without running it by her first. And even then. It wouldn't affect actual gameplay at all, in all likelihood!

So, this'll probably be updated when/if I prod her with it. Either with evil laughter, or after multiple thwaps with an internet newspaper.

Note that the idea came to me at about 3 AM.

Yet more weird bloody things. See, my dog has been having epistaxis-- nosebleeds. This DOES NOT HAPPEN in dogs. So she's going in for a rhinoscopy tomorrow. Apparently it's either something stuck up her nose, which has swelled around it and therefore it can't get loose, or she has nose cancer. To demonstrate that this isn't just the occasional drip, I present exhibits A and B, "Results of the Sneeze". Under the cut. ( Zombie Dog! ) Et voila.