Cleolinda everywhere

I am feeling incredibly sad today. Therefore I bring you a video of a Pallas cat, a chicken on a rope, aerial gymnastics, and faux James Bond music.







(My collection of Pallas cats.)

Yes, there is a New Moon trailer. I have not watched it yet, but the general response I'm hearing is, "My God, there's a plot and the trailer actually looks kind of good." Ladies and gentlemen, a big round of applause for Chris Weitz.

No, I have not been able to watch True Blood yet. IF YOU SPOIL ME, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS. Seriously, don't even discuss it in the comments. I don't even want to hear it--I'm having a hard enough time dodging spoilers on Twitter and in entertainment news headlines. And yes, I have read the books. But given that the Maryann storyline is a near-total invention and they're also mixing it up early with Sophie-Anne, all bets are kind of off at this point.

Yes, I heard about Kanye and whatever. I didn't watch the VMAs or True Blood or ANYTHING AT ALL because whatever, I don't care. It was a really bad... evening, day, whatever... yesterday. I busted out the decant of White Light again, let's put it that way. So I'm a bit tense, if not outright cranky.

The best linkspam I can manage is over at FriendFeed.

So. Furnace checkup today; all clear. We have a contract with Evans, so they checked that for free, and then two more guys followed on Furnace Guy's heels to diagnose our plumbing problems. We knew we had some toilets prone to stopping up, and you get six inches of standing water in my tub every time you take a shower (repeated applications of Liquid Plumr have gotten it down to only two. It does eventually drain out, though, so it's not, like, the SAME six inches of water). So I take them all over the house--

See, I know what y'all are going to say. Is there a jinx on the house, Indian burial ground, who did we piss off, etc. What you have to remember is, a cheap and shady developer built all the houses on this cul-de-sac about 22 years ago. I love this house to death--it's the first time I've had a decent closet of my own, not to mention a bathroom bigger than a shoebox--so don't blame the house. I love the house. I feel sorry for the house. It doesn't want to fall apart on us; it just had a really irresponsible builder (newspaper instead of insulation. For real). In addition to that, I don't know about anyone who lived here before us, but in the eight years that we've lived here, we've never had any plumbing maintenance done. So of course we're going to find a shitload of things wrong with it. (Keep in mind, we have tried to take care of these problems ourselves already.) This is not evil horrible bad luck; this is inevitable. Such problems, which add up to $1500, include:

The water pressure is too high--this is something of an emergency/priority. Some kind of valve has worn out, and the pressure is at 90 whatever instead of 60 whatever, which is why the toilets keep running, things are getting worn out, we have a weird spraying problem with the base of the kitchen faucet, etc.;

Weird spraying problem with the kitchen faucet and the right-side sink, which is a bit clogged;

Severe calcium/mineral buildups in the 20-year-old toilets, which may need to be replaced entirely--not a problem with the pipes, in other words;

My shower, obviously, which needs a good snaking (that's what she said), as well as my clogged/slow sink;

Probably a few other things--I saw the itemized list--but I am too tired to care what they are right now.

So we're having $800 worth of it done today--the high-pressure problem and my bathroom, since the "taking a shower in standing water" (which I have been doing for way too long) issue is the most pressing issue. The continued expenses (snarling flooded dishwasher, two cars with severe repair problems, all the outlets upstairs getting rewired) just don't even faze me anymore. My mother seemed to think the diagnosis would be worse, so at least there's no catastrophic shock there. I'm working as hard as I can on the Harry Potter e-book thing, although yesterday was bad and I didn't even get in the same room as the computer. And right now I'm having to stay available in case the plumbers need something (where is this or that; a minute ago they asked for a wire hanger) (insert your best Mommy Dearest impression here), so I don't really want to get down to work, get in the zone, and then have to be dragged out of it. But as for the rest of it, I'm pretty much beyond reaction at this point.

Meanwhile, I go see my psych for a quarterly med check tomorrow; she generally insists on a therapy-like hour of chat, so she can see for herself how I'm doing. Is she going to get an earful, let me tell you what.


ETA: Well, I just wrote a check for $921 (taxes added). Yow.

So I just had what psychiatric literature generally refers to as "a motherfucking meltdown." (My mother's current pet phrase for this is "a come-apart.") Well, I mean, I had it about three hours ago. I was testing Camille out on various outlets upstairs and--it's not happening. It turns on but I'm not getting to the OS on any of them. I don't know if the ASUS sucks or EVERY SINGLE OUTLET IN THE HOUSE sucks or if maybe Camille is just so super-powered that mere mortals like us cannot run her. All I know is, I had to drag the monitor and its four serpentine cords to and fro just to get to the outlets, and my room is a wreck (stacked with boxes and piles of I don't even know what, in an attempt to reorganize) because there is no ROOM in my room and I finally just started throwing things. For half an hour. Solid. (This was my idea of "cleaning." By the time I had raged myself out, I had two garbage bags full of junk to take outside.) The fact that I spent most of my tantrum snarling "EVERYONE IS ALLOWED TO GET ANGRY EXCEPT ME. EVERYONE. EXCEPT. ME" may indicate that... uh... there are some other issues at play here.

Also, I am pretty sure I broke my mp3 player in the process.

I give up. Camille, my sweet, I do not think we were meant to be. I'm going to get a Dell. I know, Dells are awful and you hate them, I should get a Mac (and LET ME TELL YOU, INTERNETS, the next person to so much as UTTER a word that even STARTS with "mac"--macaroni; mackintosh; macadam--will get MY FOOT up THEIR ASS. Macs are great and if you have one I love you but seriously, I do not EVER want to hear that word again). I have always used Dells, and each time they have lasted five years or more. They are safe and comforting and I understand them. There is no point in even arguing with me at this point, because Dude, I Am Getting A Fucking Dell and that is all there is to it. If I can get Best Buy to refund everything--including the Geek Squad service contract--I'll order it from Dell's site rather than buy it off the shelf.

My sister has got the hots for laptops right now, I don't even know, and she's very nearly talked me into getting one (~OMG DELL LAPTOPS ARE AWFUL HDU~), except that you can't really take them apart or add anything to them, and I suspect they're less badass than desktops, in terms of hardware specs. But it is a STONE BITCH to unhook that monitor, even though it's a flatscreen, and move it around to a card table to face the TV so I can live-blog awards season, and a laptop would solve that problem. I'd get one with the biggest screen/keyboard I can find--basically, an all-in-one desktop that's more easily moved, is what I'm looking at. I'm not really going to need to tote it anywhere. I don't even know. I've never used a laptop as my primary computer before--I've used borrowed ones but never owned one--and we fear change. See what change got us, CAMILLE? Whatever. I am tired of this. I don't care. Make it go away.

Also, I want to dig a hole in the backyard and curl up in it and die. Maybe between the new azaleas. I am very near the end of my rope regarding this entire clusterfuck.

1. Scream "GODDAMMIT!" when power goes out. Scream louder when it goes out again. >CHECK

2. Reboot. Computer is dead, claims system file is missing/corrupt. Realize situation is dire. Go into shock. >CHECK
(Note: what you saw last night, between LJ and Twitter, is pretty much the most upset I will ever, ever get, barring maybe the death of an actual human. That is what I do: zombie calm.)

3. Go to parents' computer and freak out on LJ and Twitter. Calmly. >CHECK

( Read more... )



Also, our dryer died this morning.

... that I woke up with some hideous stomach bug and have been down for the count most of the day. As insult to injury, the internet on my own computer is down and I can't get it to come back up--may have to call Charter to reset the signal or WTFever, I don't even know. Not Happy. Also, haven't eaten anything today, for obvious reasons, which is not improving mood. I'm on the computer downstairs just long enough to check email, comment notifications, Google Reader, Twitter, etc., just because I like to make sure no one's on fire or anything. You may not see me around for a while, I don't know.

You know how I felt so mellow the other day? I think I know what did it: I had cranked up my speakers that afternoon and belted out embarrassing pop songs as loud as I could all afternoon. In retrospect--I wonder if it was like primal scream therapy or something?

I don't know. I was kind of having a bad yesterday (like you couldn't tell). I had to wait around all morning for the furnace guy (yes, another appliance has broken down), and then he got here and literally walked around and around the house checking vents and sensors for an hour and a half (I counted him making something like 26 or 27 circuits around the whole thing. I offered to help but he waved me back down), and then it cost us $121, because we have so much money right now to spend on yet another goddamn thing going wrong. And for some reason I felt like crying most of the day for no reason at all. And I finally just skipped the regular linkspam last night. So. Primal sing therapy it is.

Gonna scale back on the Twi-spam for at least a day or so, because I feel like I'm being hit with a sudden depressive episode. It's so sudden and acute that I don't think it'll last very long--hell, it could just be a normal hormonal dip--but I'm having a hard time dealing with even the most mundane tasks at the moment. I think part of it may be that TWILIGHT IS FINALLY HERE OMG, and I know that a lot of people are waiting around--because they have told me so; I'm really not so egotistical as to just assume it--for me to see the movie and run it through the Cleomatic 3000, and you know, every time I sit down to write something big like this, I'm not sure I can pull it off this time. It's one thing when I just write something on a whim and I don't expect people to care or like it; it's terrifying when I know people are expecting it. A lot of times I feel like people are never satisfied--they want more or they want better or they wanted me to do something else instead. I'm not a machine, you guys. The expectations scare me sometimes.

So, quickly: Fandom Lounge has an updated list of movie reviews, with more linked in the comments. Also: Twilight Movie Bingo. Oh, and the Today Show this morning: "We're going outside now?"

I cannot for the life of me find the original comments about this, so re: the Etsy package, it came! Thank you so much!

Oh, and by the way, if you added me on Facebook--I usually wait and add people back in batches, so everyone should be added now. (I'm not sure what's with all the welcome posts--I've been on Facebook for a pretty long time now.)

(And thanks for having such a civil discussion yesterday, I mean it. I like that when people disagree over here, they can do it in a friendly fashion.)

(Shit, I forgot to watch South Park last night. I guess I'll catch it online.)

Y'all, I had a bad day. I had a bad evening, I had a bad night. I didn't sleep well. I'm not having a good morning, and I have one more recap to power through before 8 pm, and I've got THOSE FUCKING KIDS ringing my door bell, three separate times, and running off giggling on A SUNDAY MORNING, and I KNOW IT'S THEM, because I went out five minutes later after they got out of their hiding places and I CAN SEE THEM acting a fool down there at the end of the street, and I SWEAR TO GOD if you come up here again I have a 32-inch Easton EA70 alloy softball bat named Big Red and don't you think that just because you're ten fucking years old that I won't BEAT YOUR FOOL ASS DOWN because we have CALLED YOUR PARENTS the OTHER FIVE TIMES you did this, and YOU KNOW BETTER, you were NOT RAISED BY WOLVES. Yes, I AM the mean old lady down the street already at the tender age of thirty and I WILL FUCKING LAY YOU OUT IF YOU SO MUCH AS FUCKING PRINT A FINGER ON MY GODDAMN DOOR BELL ONE MORE TIME.

Number of times I walked Pete, who I was dogsitting: 6.

Number of things I got done today: ZERO.

It's amazing how not getting anything done can leave you so tired. Either that, or it's the fact that I was up all night with an upset stomach. (Oh, that.)

Hmm. Today's flashback omg help I am running out of entries: Let's go with the post I wrote on Melville's Pierre, a book so bad that critics at the time actually told him to stop writing. ("And then I find out that that's not even the incest the professor was talking about.")

All right: easily skippable Twi-spam. Most of it I wrote last night, which is why there's a difference in enthusiasm between this section and the one below. Again: being up all night sick will do that to you.

( TOUR OF TERROR '08! It touched him! IT TOUCHED HIIIIIIM )

I think there's still more linkspam flagged in the Reader, what with the weekend backlog. I just ran out of giddyup. ( moar linkspam )

HEY FRIDGE FIXER GUY I WAITED FOR YOU ALL DAY, WHERE YOU AT? MAYBE I'LL JUST INSTALL THIS PANEL MYSELF! I DON'T NEED YOU! I DO WHAT I WANT! unless it's on a day when I'm supposed to hang around the house waiting for you

So tonight I'm listening to the podcast to see how it turned out--I think it'll be released this weekend?--and see just how awful I sound. It's not actually the sound of my voice that bothers me, the way a lot of people get bothered--I'm more worried about my actual intonations and speaking patterns making me sound like a dolt. So there's that. I might get a linkspam up later (wayyyy later), but if not, it'll go up tomorrow.

(Hee! I have so much more of a Southern accent than I thought I did. Particularly on the word "my." Mah journal, you guys. Y'all are readin' it now.)

I have had a bad day. I'm not even sure if the epic saga of my bad day is worth telling--well, what the hell, why not: ( Read more... )

While I was cursing out the computer (those of you who chose "D) My computer," come and collect your winnings!), my mother called. While we were cleaning out the fridge and bitching at each other, just because, I mentioned this comment, because I was a little surprised that she was taking the whole July 9th thing lying down. (To recap/catch you up: Sears can't come out until JULY 9TH to fix the fridge, which is under warranty, so we paid an independent whoever $75 to just come take a look at it. Turns out the compressor's frozen, "which is really kind of rare, actually." Thanks, Fridge Guy. He can replace it for $750, or [and this was his recommendation, honestly] we could wait for Sears to do it at no charge. My mother despaired and decided to wait, because y'all know how bad this year has sucked for us financially.) So later this afternoon (computer cursing, etc.), she calls me to say that she thought it over, and she decided to call Sears.

I'll wait while you go make some popcorn. ( Read more... )