Sarcasm is an adjusted stress reaction.

lizbee One of the kids from SJA was in Law & Order: UK this week, and I kept going, "No, no, your friends aren't drug mules, they fight aliens!"
cesario *snort*
lizbee I suppose there's no reason they can't do both, but I don't think I want to see that Very Special Episode.
cesario it depends on whether they put the drugs in SJA or the aliens in LO:UK
lizbee I would like to see Harriet Walter fight aliens. I think she'd be good at it.
cesario fuck yes
lizbee Let's just sit back and contemplate the amazing quality of that mental image.
cesario *sits back*

I just found a Babylon 5 fan who thinks "The Deconstruction of Falling Stars" is a great hour of television that should have marked the end of the series.

I know. I know.

It figures that this would come to light on the same day I learn that RTD wonders if he was on drugs when he wrote "The Sound of Drums". (Thank you, selenak, for sharing that day-making quote.) 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be quilting hiding under the bed waiting for the apocalypse.

In a triumph of Doing Stuff over Procrastination, I recently finished my two major craft projects of 2009: a baby blanket for my brother's baby, and a TARDIS cross-stitch for munditia. (You can see photos of both here.) The baby was due last Monday, but has yet to make an appearance. This is probably torturous for the prospective parents, but at least the quilt arrived before the birth.

This left me with idle hands and lots of TV left to watch. I did start a new cross stitch, but it's from a kit, and therefore automatically less satisfying. And then I found a pack of lovely quilting fabric, and ... well. So I put on "Colony in Space" and did some quilting blocks (I'm playing with triangles for the first time! They are lovely, but fiddly; you can see one block here.) and wound up playing the "IN MY PANTS" game with the Doctor and the Master.

( Spoilers are in the Master's pants. )

"Independent bookstores are where the real booksellers are!"

Because, as everyone knows, chain bookstores only hire illiterate schlubs who might as well be selling nail polish for all their emotional engagement and knowledge is worth. (Not that I have anything against nail polish, or people who sell it, but you can't really talk about its amazing dialogue, or plot twists. Not unless you really enjoy getting strange looks. Which, admittedly, I sometimes do -- oh wait! Tangent!)

The meme has made its latest appearance (here's an example) in the responses to Amazon's latest fail, and it usually comes from the keyboards of authors. Which saddens me, because booksellers (of all stripes) tend to have a symbiotic relationship with authors, and if there's one profession where you rather expect people to pay attention to their words -- well.

Suffice to say, it doesn't encourage me to wax enthusiastic about their books.

It does have the knock-on effect of making me think, "Well, independent bookstores aren't all that!" Which is obviously not true, unless we're talking about my particular nemesis, Readings Carlton. Where the shelves are messy, half the aisles are inaccessible to prams and wheelchairs, and a bookseller who was way too cool for school told me last year that there was no point in my ordering The Language of Bees by Laurie R. King, because it would be expensive and take a few weeks. I'd like to say that I waved my [chain bookstore] staff card in his face, said, "I know, that's why I'm taking advantage of your superior special order facilities, and would it kill you to make eye contact? I'm trying to give your company fifty bucks!" and stormed out.

What I actually did was mumble, "Never mind" as I turned away, feeling quite unwanted. Possibly that staff member has been replaced by someone who can actually be bothered to deal with the public; I wouldn't know, as I've never been back.

While I understand that good independents are lovely places filled with sunshine and light and smiles and happiness, I'm a little bit tired of being bookselling chopped liver. I'd say more, but I have a massive pile of new release YA novels beside my desk, and they're not going to read themselves.

Bold everything you've eaten, italic and bold things you've eaten once and never again, italic things you never intend to eat.

1. Fresh fish
2. Lobster
3. Steak
4. Thai food
5. Chinese food
6. Ice cream
7. Pizza
8. Crab
9. Curry
10. Prawns
11. Moreton Bay Bugs
12. Clam chowder
13. Barbecues
14. Pancakes
15. Pasta
16. Mussels
17. Cheesecake
18. Lamb
19. Cream tea
20. Alligator
21. Oysters
22. Kangaroo
23. Chocolate
24. Sandwiches
25. Greek food
26. Burgers
27. Mexican food
28. Squid
29. American diner breakfast
30. Salmon
31. Venison
32. Guinea pig
33. Shark
34. Sushi
35. Paella
36. Barramundi
37. Reindeer
38. Kebab
39. Scallops
40. Australian meat pie
41. Mango
42. Durian fruit
43. Octopus
44. Ribs
45. Roast beef
46. Tapas
47. Jerk chicken/pork
48. Haggis
49. Caviar
50. Cornish Pasty

Apparently these are foods you should at least try before you die? I guess I only need to live a little longer, although to be honest, I have the opportunity to eat a durian every time I visit my dad. The smell, though... Apparently it makes a nice ice cream? Have to say, I'm lucky in that I live in a country with a diverse range of foods. MORETON BAY BUGS, GUYS. It is like eating a delicious, fleshy fossil.

There is a small, persistent part of my brain that thinks it's time to watch Babylon 5 again. I think this little batch of neurotransmitters is hoping that if I watch it enough, the DVDs will magically sprout new episodes. There should be fic* where Delenn and Ten meet at People Who Get Quite Cross About Genocide When Other People Do It But Have Been Known To Wipe Out The Odd Planet Themselves Anonymous. The best thing you could say about such a team is that, at the final reckoning, Earth would probably still exist. Although in what state, and under whose control, is anyone's guess.

AND NOW to have a nap, and think about Moreton Bay bugs and crackfic I might one day (maybe) write, unless I can con someone else into writing it for me.

* Yes, yes, I should write it myself. But if someone else wants to write it for me, that would be okay too.

I've seen some muttering here and there -- not, I think, on my flist -- about how, now the slash debate is winding down, we're going to face an obligatory round of talk about awesome female characters, as penance for fandom's love of the white man's penis.

So I would just like to say that I love my favourite female characters all the time, not just when I'm attempting to prove their awesome through the medium of picspam (or whatever).

Finally, and in conclusion:

Last night I dreamed that the Press Gang reunion special of legend actually aired. And it was great, only Dexter Fletcher couldn't remember how to do the American accent, so John Barrowman played Spike. But there was a subplot about Lynda being in a feud with Rupert Murdoch, and Spike turning out to be the man behind a blog that had all the political and media gossip before anyone else. This totally needs to happen at once, excepting the bit about John Barrowman. What's Steven Moffat doing these days, and can he drop it to return to the kids show he did in the early '90s? Oh, right. Yes. Carry on.

After the whole waking, boggling at my dream and having breakfast part of the day was dealt with, I AMAZED myself by going to the gym. Where I ran and cycled and, um, cross-trained, and did various weights, and stretches, but what I'll really take away is that I can't do a single push-up. But I did learn that the only way I can stand the cycles is by watching fanvids on my iPod, so it wasn't a total loss.

Then, as if that wasn't ridiculous enough, I met up with baggers, sajee and suburbannoir, and we played squash. I've never played squash in my life, but by the end of the hour my racquet had begun to make contact with the ball, so I deem it a success. Never before have I had fun, or made improvement, at a proper sport. But then, never before have people stopped laughing at my lack of co-ordination long enough to give me proper help and practice. YES I'M STILL BITTER ABOUT SCHOOL PHYS. ED.

Now I'm home, and I've eaten mac and cheese for lunch, and bought tickets to see Amanda Palmer next month (AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OF MISSING HER*, THAT IS A GREAT RELIEF!), and now I think I'm going to have a nap.

* She has this amazing skill for coming to town at times when I'm busy, or broke, or both. The most notable occasion was when the Dresden Dolls were relatively small, and they were doing a concert in Brisbane, and I had the money to go, only I also had a really early start the next day, and I was quite new in my job and didn't want to turn up over-tired. So I skipped it. But that same weekend, we were seeing Ben Folds in concert with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra, and who should appear on stage halfway through, but the Dresden Dolls? They did "Coin-Operated Boy" with Ben on piano, and then he and Amanda sang "Steve's Last Night In Town" as a duet. And it was magnificent. But I still wish I'd been able to get to the other concert.