I just managed to break my remaining roommate by describing one theory of Vulcan male genitalia. (Let's just say it involves tendrils, and leave it at that. :halo:)

( And in non-Vulcan news: neurotic cat and the need for an eight-hour music mix. )

*Bell camp: fun, but Maine is another of those states that just goes on and on and on. (Yes, I know. All those of you who don't live in tiny-state-central may laugh at me now.) The nicest part wasn't even the final concert, although that was fun too: it was getting the chance to hear other bell choirs. It's easy to get so wrapped up in the tunnel vision focus necessary to playing your own part that you forget how the whole sounds, and why it's worth playing.

*Any time the rain wants to stop, I'm behind that. Any time now. :taps fingers: (Although Connecticut's solution of alternating rain with sullen, August-ish humidity isn't ideal either.)

*I recently read a detective novel written in the early 60s wherein the murderer turned out to be gay. On the one hand, the authors were clearly going out of their way to try to understand and be sympathetic. On the other hand, they still wound up using all sorts of stereotypes and cliches. (On the third hand, the instant the detective mentioned that a woman's wig had been left at the crime scene, distended out of all proportion, I knew there was a transvestite involved. The detective had no clue. I don't know if we're just more aware of such things these days, or if it's because I'm queer myself and thus sensitized to hints of queerness.)

*In theory, having two workplaces that want you to work for you should be a good thing, shouldn't it? Yeah, no. At least I've made a decision. Just need to let it settle, and tell them both on Monday.

*Query: how many cats are necessary to create the impression of cats being everywhere? So far, my mother's four are doing a good job of it.

I'm packed and heading off into the wilds of Maine for a weekend of handbelling. (And by 'wilds' I mean 'college campus,' because this is a conference for handbell ringers, and ends in a huge concert by all ringers present. Inasmuch as one handbell choir requires between eight and sixteen people...well, let's just say that these conferences tend to be held at large colleges, which have large indoor stadiums. We need the space.)

Before I go, however: there's someone I owe something to. So I'm boosting the signal, a little late, and further offering this: if you do give, I'll either write you a story or make you a teddy bear. Your choice.

Because it's coming.

(And if you get that reference, you've either played far too much Magic, or you're my roommate Katie. Or have spent far too much time around the latter.)

Anyway! July 25th is Blogathon: 24 hours with a post every half an hour, to raise consciousness, raise money for charity, and raise hell as much as possible when you're chained to your computer for the day. :) Last year I wrote flash fanfic for the Nature Conservancy. This year, it's going to be the Nifty Things Overview: 49 books or movies or TV shows or manga (or places or people or...by 2 AM, anything goes!) that have caught my attention over the years, and why. So if you choose, please sponsor me, and come July 25th, come cheer me on!

Thomas is dead.

I was with him. I had to go upstairs and wake Stef, because I kept thinking that no, he was still breathing, wasn't he?

She is heating water for tea, and watching me like she thinks I'll break. Which...isn't entirely off. She is great and good and kinder than I deserve, given she has to work tomorrow morning.

sylverice2 drove me in to work this morning, as I have an interview at 10 AM to get my job back, permanent-like rather than temp, and it was simpler for me to catch a ride than to wait an hour and hike it.

The radio was playing "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)." Am not quite sure if this is a good omen or a bad.

(I'll just go back to killing time now. One springkink story written, working on the other.)

ETA: Interview done. The poor manager was reading off a sheet of questions, and at least twice apologized for the questions he was asking, because "really, you've already had a five-month interview, and we know you can do the job." End result: I'll be given a start date by the end of this week.

Phew.

When last we left our heros, they were staying up to do last-minute sewing on Saturday's costumes. Will they succeed? (Well, duh.)

( Saturday: 'You remind me of the babe,' Tony Stark, hentai Chewbacca, and the results of all our frantic sewing. )

( Sunday: expect the unexpected. By which I mean things like male Sanzo, steampunk L, and Seto Kaiba. )

(And once again, for those who just want to look at the photos: they're all here, including some I didn't put in the post.)

Every con I've attended has had a theme. Sometimes it's official, sometimes it's unofficial, sometimes it's both.

The official theme of Anime Boston 2009 was Mystery.

The unofficial theme, at least from my perspective: O HAI UR PRETTY.

Erm.

( Friday: bad dubs, the Yachiru question, and how to cosplay from a wheelchair. )

(Still working on the pictures and post for Saturday and Sunday. In the meantime, all pictures so far uploaded, including the Gendo Ikari photographic overview, are here.)

Awhile back, we'd watched the first couple episodes of THE STORY OF SAIUNKOKU. (By 'we' I mean 'all three residents of Chez Butterfly.') We'd wanted to watch more, but with costume stuff, ain't nothing got watched for the past two weeks. But that time is now over, so last night we went back and marathoned the first two discs, episodes 2-10.

It's glorious.

( How to write a kick-ass heroine who doesn't carry heavy weapons, in short dialogue form. Includes spoilers for the first few episodes. )

x-posted to dreamwidth

I'm in the Dealer's Room, looking over the selection, when a nice-looking girl wearing a bikini top and hot pants walks past. My first thought was not, oh, hey, cute, or even, hooray, someone with the body to carry off that kind of outfit.

It was, tch, she didn't hem the bottom of those hot pants.

Imma go back to finishing off my sewing now. There will be many, many pictures after this weekend is over, including a Gendo Ikari photographic survey.

( Costume status, for those who care about our adventures in cosplay. )

Preliminary registration for Anime Boston is this afternoon. Group cosplay is this Saturday. Must - sew - more!

Why is it that the really nasty knots in your thread always seem to form on the outside of the fabric, rather than on the inside, where even if you have to snip it, nobody can see?

:goes back to sewing the zipper into Yuuko's dress, hopefully with a minimum of bloodshed:

Short version: OMG so cool.

( Slightly longer version beneath cut. Spoilers ho. )

Crossposted to Dreamwidth.

Down by the local library is an old gray house. It sits between a tidy row of condos (to the left) and a sleek brick office building (to the right). Across the street is an ordinary white house, looking vaguely unsure of itself amidst the long stretch of parking lot that leads up to stores on one side, and the police station and library on the other. Condos, office building, and white house are all inhabited, and I've never heard anything odd about any of the three.

I've never heard anything odd about the old gray house, either, to be fair. It sits high up on a small hill, closed off behind a high wire fence, and between the uncut front lawn and the crumbling wood of the front steps, it's quite clearly empty of human inhabitants. But there are three signs on the gate through the wire fence. PRIVATE NO TRESPASSING, says one. CONSTRUCTION NO ENTRY, says the second. And up at the top of the gate hangs one of those kitschy little wooden country-style signs: PLEASE STAY OUT.

There are cement steps that lead up to the wire fence. I sat there the other day and ate my egg salad sandwich, and occasionally looked up at the house. But nothing moved except me and the wind that blew my hair into my face, and the occasional car passing by.

Maybe the house is haunted. Probably not. But it seems like a waste of a setting to me.

Poll #1393339 Decisions, decisions.
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

I can has Dreamwidth invite! But what to call it?

I went into Boston today to run a few errands. I had to cut across the Common, and as I approached the gate to the Public Garden, I could hear one of those loud, hoarse voices from up ahead. It was an older gentleman, African-American, sitting on a bench under a tree. Street preacher, I figured, and tuned him out.

Then, as I walked past him, I heard him clearly. "--current temperature is 67 degrees, with a real bad wind," he was saying, in that shouty, hoarse voice. "Showers expected tomorrow. Bring your umbrella!"

And that's the weather from WBCB, the Boston Common street radio network. Back to you, Bob.

Today calls for brownies. Not because it's bad, it's just sorta acutely blah.

So: brownies. And roast chicken for dinner, with garlic mashed potatoes.

And tweenbots.

In an effort to persuade Mariposa to take care of her own physical therapy, I've been leaving the cage door open when I'm home and awake. At first it seemed a failure: Mariposa remained curled up on her towel in the cage.

This evening, in the mood for kitty snuggles, I went looking...and had to persuade her out of the linen closet, where she had curled up on the second shelf up.

Don't think I'll need to worry about her health. :) (And while I'm at it: my sincere thanks to irisbleufic and all those who contributed through her. Y'all are amazing, amazing people, and Mariposa would send purrs if she were awake instead of asleep on my lap.)

...and both Mariposa and I are looking forward to it, if only to stop the cycle of her trying anything to get out of the cage. By 'anything' I mostly mean 'yowling for half an hour together until Thia gives up and comes to see if Mariposa has soiled something,' but she's open to opportunity. Any time the door opens, even for the offering of food or water, she'll stand up and poke her head out of the cage and see if there's enough room for her to try to make a break for it. (No, there isn't. The door isn't that wide, and I'm positioned to take up most of the space.)

Today's plans are sewing and grocery run. Tomorrow, my bell choir plays again. And maybe somewhere in there I can figure out a kitty gag to go with the kitty diapers.