Feb. 7th, 2017

via http://ift.tt/2ldHqrl:
tagged at just the right moment of soul-crushing ennui and certainty of my own irrelevance by the inimitable @deputychairman, so y’all get a meme!

a - age: as old as Oscar Isaac <– that was deputy’s answer and I’m keeping it, because so am I. well, actually, he was born in March and I was born in August so I’m younger but not enough for it to matter. STILL.b - biggest fear: I can’t really narrow it down, I’m a mass of extremely specific anxieties, but here’s one– that everyone’s having fun without me and I’ve constantly just missed outc - current time: it’s 6:45pm, or 18:45 if you’re nastyd - drink you last had: I do this thing where I make up cocktails. The last one I made had elderflower liqueur, Lillet, peach schnapps, home-distilled moonshine from apples, orange bitters, and sloeberry vodka, in orange-mango juice, and it just tasted like orange-mango juice so I needn’t have bothered, except there was quite a lot of booze in it. People then ask me “what are we drinking” and I’m like, “Uh….” I need to start just lying.  [update since I started this meme I’ve made another drink with orange-mango juice since clearly that’s what’s in the fridge. This time I kept it to just blackstrap rum and bitters, plus some of that homebrew moonshine because honestly I’m trying to use it up. It’s a lot… less fruity.]e - every day starts with: my cat meowing a lot and climbing over my dude’s inert corporeal form to poke me. he never pets her. I do.f - favorite song: I don’t have just one, I never know what to answer these things, but I do have the Swet Shop Boys’ “Aaja” stuck in my head at the moment, so I’ll recommend it. (The whole album’s quite interesting.)g - ghosts, are they real: I don’t think anything’s really any more real than any other thing so they can be as real as they like. I know several people who’ve had phenomenal paranormal experiences and I don’t particularly care if they can be explained away other ways, ghosts are a fine answer. However, if a ghost ever talks to me I’ll shit myself, so if you’re reading this, ghosts, please don’t.h - hometown: I was born in Troy, NY: the Home of Uncle Sam. i - in love with: oh, I have a lot of loves. At this time of year it’s hard for me to remember what any of them are. Ice cream, is the most enduring one. Family. Probably my dude. He’s doing dishes right now, so I should upgrade that to definitely, but I’m not exactly made of emotion here. You gotta ration that shit out, here in the darks of February.j - jealous of: literally anyone who gets more likes or kudos or comments than me, or in any way is being more successful than me at something I care to succeed at, at any given time. It is unending. The criteria by which I determine who’s being more successful is likely to be extremely biased, but this is not a rational thing. k - killed someone: a human, no. not even by accident. not directly. I’ve never killed an animal with my car either, that I know of. For what that’s worth. l - last time you cried: probably cried in the bathroom reading Twitter today, I usually do lately, which is why I have to ration out the rest of my emotions so carefully. m - middle name: An unpronounceable mass of Gaelic, actually. I’m stealth ethnic. OK not that stealth. It’s not that I’m afraid of being doxxed, but I’m so spoiled by having a literally entirely anonymous first/lastname combo that I’m extremely careless about putting my details out there. (Seriously, between the literally two million women with my name who came over during the Potato Famine and clutter up Ancestry, and the songwriter with my name, and the aide to a disgraced politician with my name, nobody’s going to find me unless I’m dumb enough to tell my middle name.)n - number of siblings: I have three sisters.o - one wish: I wish I could get my shit together for like, more than an hour at a time.p - person you last called/texted: My dad texted me, so I wrote back. (He wants more photo holders for his ongoing, decades-long photo album project. We do sell them at the store where I work, so I’m now the hookup.)q - questions you’re always asked: My favorite is “which one are you” in the context of my sisters, because everyone knows there are a bunch of us, but nobody’s ever sure quite how many, and now that one sister’s a local businessperson and another is active in local networking organizations, I get mistaken for either or both, which is flattering. (The best is when wandering around the farmer’s market with Farmbaby, because *everyone* knows her, and then they look at me and you can see the wheels turning, because I’m clearly not FarmSister, who is a beanpole, but Middle-Little and I look somewhat alike. [Middle-Little is way hotter than me though so it’s extra-flattering.])r - reasons to smile: There are many. I do often. I can’t think of them now. It’s February, everything is experienced through a dark haze of brain fog.s - song last sang: I frequently sing to myself in the car, but not in February. Sorry to keep harping on this, but it is somewhat all-consuming of late. t - time you woke up: I wake up between 5:30 and 6:45 every morning depending on the cat and whether I have any weird dreams. u - underwear color: lacey purple, and they match the bralette, which let me tell you, discovering those sets in my size was the highlight of 2016 against not a whole lot of competitionv - vacation destination: I would love to go back to Iceland, like I did two summers ago, and Norway to see family, but Iceland because it’s really neat-O there. I probably won’t go on a vacation this year though, I generally don’t.w - worst habit: uh I can’t really pick one, but probably the horrible jealousy thing above. At least i seem to be utterly immune to sexual jealousy, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to contend with that.
Oh my other worst habit though– never answering asks. I fucking love getting asks and then I don’t answer them, people must think I hate it. I try! I just forget.x - x-rays you’ve had: to this day I regret not getting a copy of it, but freshman year in college I stepped on a nail, thereby nailing my Adidas gazelle sneaker to my foot, and they X-rayed it and you could see the nail, the bones of my foot, and the stripes of the sneaker. My favorite part of the experiment was when the radiologist asked if I could remove my shoe for the X-Ray, and I said, “well, it’s nailed on, so, that’s why I’m here actually,” and she was like “… Oh.”y - your favorite food: again I can’t really narrow it down, but, TACOS. Oh, or maybe sushi. Those are the things I always want to eat. For the record, though, today I remembered that banh mi is a thing that exists in the world, and even though I didn’t have it, I had a really dull PBJ sandwich, and I have no prospects of obtaining banh mi in the near future, still for some odd reason my day was immeasurably brightened by the knowledge that it’s a thing. Banh mi exists, and that says a lot about our world.z - zodiac sign: I’m sort of hazy on it but sheer dint of looking it up several times has convinced me I’m a Virgo, but I’ve never really had that mean anything except that it’s nigh-impossible to have a birthday party because everyone goes away for summer break right then. 

oh lordy, I got the anxieties about tagging people today. Please, please– I love being tagged in these things but get worried about tagging other people. If you are in any way interested in doing this, please do it, and please @ me so I read it, I’d love to read it. I can’t get myself together enough to figure out who it would be Right and Proper for me to tag, though. You– this means you, person who follows me who I don’t know, you can take this as an invitation! Please do this thing. <3
via http://ift.tt/2ljnm2z:deputychairman replied to your post “tagged at just the right moment of soul-crushing ennui and certainty…”

Ugh jealousy is the worst, I feel ya. And I don’t suffer from the sexual kind be either - maybe we’re just *so* desirable we know there’s no need?

pff no, that’s not it in my case! I was the kind of kid bullies dared each other to ask out as a joke, so I’ve actually never been asked on a date in my life, I just sort of moved in with my dude, and glommed myself inextricably onto him, as soon as I realized he wasn’t going to object. 

I actually think that in my case it’s that I’m so completely and utterly stunted when it comes to picking other people up that I can’t actually imagine my dude picking someone else up and also he’s similarly socially-abled, so I actually have no idea how he’d go about cheating on me, and neither does he, and so I just have absolutely no worry that it could or would ever happen. Which isn’t really justified– surely some other socially-awkward dreamgirl could come along and glomp him up just as ineptly as I did– but it is a welcome relief at least that my brain refuses to consider it.

What my brain did do to me is that when I went to bed earlier than him, and hadn’t thought I’d actually dozed off, it woke me up just after he’d turned off all the lights in the house and gone into the bathroom, but before he’d come out of the bathroom, and convinced me that he had somehow died or vanished (WTF), and actually made me drag myself out of bed and go look for him until I saw the light coming from under the bathroom door, whereupon my brain convinced me that he was somehow dead in there (WTF!!!), and enough of my reason remained that I did not burst into the room (our bathroom door lock broke ten years ago and we never fixed it because it’s only the two of us who live here, so I certainly could have, and he certainly would have died then, of startlement), but instead waited until I heard him moving around, and scampered back to get into bed so I would not have to explain to him that I’d thought he was dead. 

I then proceeded to spend the rest of the night intermittently snaking my foot over and poking him with my toes to make sure he was alive whenever I woke up and my brain said, psst want to know what your worst fear is?

Oh February. Ohhh, February. See, January is the month where I just sort of give up on everything, and then February is when my brain tries to come back to life and realizes it doesn’t remember how. So, we can all look forward to more of this shit. 

Ha I wrote this because I thought it was sort of funny, but reading back over it, I have a suspicion it isn’t. Sorry!
via http://ift.tt/2kNYhju:About 20 Rabbis Arrested During Protest Over Trump Travel Ban:



Rabbis affiliated with T’ruah, a liberal Jewish group, were arrested during a demonstration in front of Trump International Hotel and Tower on Monday.

On one hand I’m happy for the Jewish solidarity on the other hand I am enraged and very very sad.

Also: 18. Not “About 20”. 18.
I saw this on Twitter; I’m a goy and I don’t know the Hebrew names of numbers. But 18 is a significant number, because its name is a homonym for the word “life”. 18 is symbolic.
The headline indicates that the reporter missed the point, and what’s worse, means that the point didn’t come across.
18 rabbis.
via http://ift.tt/2khLnHm:
I love dogs. I grew up with dogs. I had dogs as siblings, in the pack of us that all ran together; the one had sussed out her place in the pecking order as below me, but above my little sisters, which was mostly just funny. 

I am trying to write a scene with a dog in it and i’m realizing that it’s too many years now since I had a dog. I hang out with dogs sometimes, but I just– I don’t really remember how their eye contact works, how attuned or not to a conversation they tend to be, what kinds of reactions they have. Would a dog turn its head to follow who was speaking in a conversation? Would a dog sustain prolonged eye contact with someone who was looking at it? Would a dog offer its head for petting after sniffing someone’s proffered hand, or is that a cat thing? That’s a cat thing. 

I need to hang out with a dog for a while. Why don’t my friends here have dogs? Hmph.

(Specifically, I’m trying to figure out the mannerisms of a perhaps supernaturally-intelligent well-trained German Shepherd. The novel’s realistic but I always like to leave room for some plausibly deniable magic.)
via http://ift.tt/2kozJgq:

This is so fucking telling, it really, really is.



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