East Coast Gazette

To answer a quick few things people have thrown out there: I’m not really avoiding anything other than other writing projects that aren’t entertaining me as much as this one — and — this isn’t *really* an AU of the ridiculously meta story I wrote anymore, as you can see how there aren’t any real references to the Ancients here, but it was definitely the inspiration of said story.

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Annnnnd more Holland and Co.

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Do you remember when I lost my mind and wrote that story about Ancient soap operas?  And then I got all caught up in the b-plot of said Ancient soap and wrote weird metaish stories about Rodney and John participating in fannish activities as part of the weird b-plot?  I think my whole weird obsession just took on another dimension of strange.  I present to you the story of Dr. Laila Noreen and Colonel Argent Helion:

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(1) No, just kidding, they’re cuddling, I swear.

(2) ALSO I HAVE RETURNED FROM CHINA VICTORIOUS AND ALIVE.  I was more worried about the second part than the first part, given the number of food-poisoning jokes my relatives in China made (”Ha ha!  Poisoning infants is hilarious!”) (why am I related to these motherfuckers?) (also? Some really tasteless ones about melanin in milk powder and the Special Olympics.  I mean, when I am skeeved out by jokes, omigosh) and given the fact that I ATE EVERYTHING EVER EVER.  Seriously, I was concerned they’d have to roll me onto the maglev train toward the airport.

(Side note, if any of you are speed freaks and get a chance to ride a maglev? Do it, disregard the ache to your wallet.  Sure, I dropped coin — but I also FLEW at 431 km/h and it compressed a 45 minute trip to the Pudong International Airport into a 7 minute jeans-creaming-rockfest.)

(Uh, disregard that last part.)

In conclusion, China was awesomesauce — links to a photopost to come shortly.

(3) While I was in China I listened a lot to my shuffle and kept thinking, “God damn it.  I wish they’d just hire me to be an EP on Stargate: Universe.”  No, seriously!  Wait, guys!  Stop hitting the back button, God damn you!  No, listen, okay, seriously.  And not like you listen to that guy who sells you the really good meth, all right?

Just think!  What if, instead of being a teen angst and dramafest, Stargate: Universe was that  combination of interpersonal relationships and scifi, worldhopping shenaniganry that we all love from the regular Stargate franchises?  What if — instead of whatever the characters who are “attractive and sexy” the released bios say — we have something more like (extended pre-series au (I know, I hate myself, too) frothing-at-the-mouth below the cut that uh, Cesca has already heard parts of, poor woman) this:

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What do you think I’m doing this Labor Day night?  I’m watching A Cinderella Story because Chad Michael Murray is in it.  I’m — I’m voluntarily watching a Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray movie.  Worst of all, I’m sort of liking it?  Oh, but at least I can inflict this on other people:

Now I burn to write a story where Jensen develops sort of a rueful, miserable crush on A Cinderella Story Chad?  And Jared and Chad finds out?  And Chad spends some time rubbing it into Jensen’s face while dodging Jared’s increasingly insane attempts to kill him in his sleep.

Yeah, I’m really ashamed, too.

So I’ve been a bear the last three weeks to just about everybody I know — some of it deserved, some of it not.  (Most of the stuff that’s internet related was, by the way, completely deserved.)  But either way, this is what has happened to me in the last couple revolutions:

• Been pulling the shitty late and Saturday shifts,
• Which are all staffed by a ravaging group of carrion-feeding whoreface managers,
• One of whom had the audacity to call me lazy and not a hard worker,
• Which of course prompted me to throw it down with her as much as you really can in a work environment because last time I checked, my payslip doesn’t read “hooker” and my job isn’t to eat her ass,
• Which of course made me start sulking about what raging cuntbags most women managers are and why, we as a sisterhood, are so fucking undermine-y,
• Which won’t be a problem starting Monday, because apparently I’ve been transferred!
• To the boys club!
• I’m not kidding!  I was told on Thursday!  At 4 p.m.!
• There’s not a single female manager on this team!
• And they’re all the crazyface people who work 14 hour days!  Half of them were logged into the office network via blackberry today — which is Saturday!
• Obviously I’m scared shitless!
• I don’t even have a desk assignment yet!  I guess all my ironical shit stays at my current office location for the time being!

It’s been a long couple of weeks, and it’s about to get longer.  Folks, I think I accidentally promised my dad I wouldn’t eat carbs for a month to see if I would lose any weight.  HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME?

Dear whoever sent me the thing on Amazon — holy crap.  Dude, thanks!  Seriously: omg, thanks.

Also, super many thanks to Yin, who knows what she did, and how I owe her sexual favors and letting her have her way with my living room couch in perpetuity, and Abbylee, who redirected all the .html links so that they would turn to the PHP pages.  You guys rule!

It’s really really nice that every time I think I’ve reached the end of my rope with work and life and assorted shenaniganry of any kind, I’m lucky enough to know people who are just ROCKSOME and keep me from flinging myself off of a roof.  Hugs for everybody!

So.  I said it nicely.  I asked nicely multiple times in multiple places.  And since that didn’t work:

STOP ASKING ME WHEN I AM UPDATING.

Oh, and sports fans, you know who I’m talking to: have some fucking class or forget this URL.

So to comfort myself after the generalized ass of this week — only thing worse than the walk of shame, the post-game leaving the bar walk of shame — I watched Wet Hot American Summer.  And then I said: WHAT THE FUCK?  I DON’T REMEMBER THIS SCENE BEING IN THIS MOVIE — because of course, I probably watched it on TV during hot summer afternoons, and there was NO WAY any network was going to show Bradley Cooper getting fucked in the ass against a storage shed wall at 4:30 on a Thursday.  God bless DVDs.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch that movie 239487 bajillion more times.