dragonlady7 | May. 5th, 2016

May. 5th, 2016

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riding high having just posted a chapter that i seat-of-pantsed yeahhhh

goes to look at the next chapter

opening scene is one I already jossed myself the fuck out of

aw shit, i have even MORE work to do for next week.

Do I:

1) start now, that’s probably something I should get on immediately

2) but i bought two kinds of gin and should try them BOTH

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oh i almost forgot

on the way home from work i realized that my kes and poe are kind of like chingachgook and uncas in last of the mohicans

and then i remembered i last read that book in 7th grade

(which is 1991, if you were smart enough not to be taken in by my outdated blog header which i have forgotten how to edit, i am not in fact 34 that is a dastardly lie and also accidental)

so like i don’t fucking remember that book but there was a bit where a man wastes his last shot on a mercy killing of a wounded enemy who is falling into a river and it’s super tragic and meant to be a big character moment

and i also remember that there were sentences that were in excess of a whole page long

but i was also eleven (and can you fucking believe they had to put a Roman numeral posthumously after the Gulf War because what the shit, what the shit america, and can you believe my sister had to go fight in the second one fucking twice, what the shit, but that’s all an aside)

Like, personal backstory here (my personal backstories are so boring but they are mine ok), my mom went to grad school in Cooperstown and kind of never got over it so of fucking course I read James Fenimore Cooper at an inappropriately young age and so, as a young adult, I was never, ever able to properly chuckle at all the NYS Thruway exit signs that talk about the Leatherstocking Region because I already knew that wasn’t a kinky fetish thing it was just a weird old gross white dude writing terrible Noble Savage tropes.

So don’t worry, if there’s any Last Of The Mohicans vibes it’s super well-filtered by the intervening uh 25 years of my actual life because I didn’t even check Wikipedia on that shit and I don’t actually remember anything of the book except gratuitous use of flintlocks and possibly inappropriate Daniel Day-Lewis whitewashing (did he play the white guy tho? I honestly didn’t see the movie except in the background at a party I went to in high school; I assumed he played the white guy and not the Native American but let’s be real it was the 90s they totally– WAIT I GOOGLED IT HE DIDN’T! OH MY GOD they had an Inuit play the Eastern Woodlands Tribesman which is actually I mean fuck that’s about four hundred thousand times better than Marvel is doing WHAT THE FUCK MARVEL IT WAS 1992 AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING KEEP UP???)

I am so disgusted I am going to why is this in italics what the

believe it or not i am sobering up now

oh my god it has been such a fucking week someone send me something nice

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magickedteacup replied to your post:in the last 20 minutes of work I encountered an…

not even gonna lie, sometimes I wonder if Trump etc. is just the inevitable sum of the national karma of this country; the US has had some super shady business and now the ugly can’t hide in the shade it must come out into the light etc. etc.

*sobs forever*

I mean

but

okay so my dad fought in Vietnam and he was there a year (super early in the war, nobody knew what it was really about and everyone* was sure there was some reason for it all) [*no. not everyone. but the people who believe in shit were sure, and God, I come from a long line of people who believe in shit.] and he was super into Doing His Duty and doing The Right Thing and come time he was going to re-up for a second year even after all the shit he’d seen and done (including his unit being Definitely In Laos and he was like uh you guys know I’m real super good at maps right, why are we in a country we’re not at war with, and they were like SHHH just retrieve that helicopter crew’s remains and definitely don’t ask what THEY were doing there– whatever it was, all that was left of them was dog tags and the metal inserts in their bootsoles, but Dad put them into baggies like he was told) – and his unit commander was like oh good, you’re my best officer, I’m definitely putting you in charge of paperwork because that is the #1 best priority in wartime. And dad was like… bzuh but I have such a good track record at keeping literally my entire unit alive, we have had actually zero casualties the whole time I’ve been platoon lieutenant, I’ve been so super good we’ve succeeded at every mission and it’s been so good, I trust my people and they trust me and we all know our shit and shouldn’t I stay with them and keep doing that? and the commander was like pshhh no we don’t care, they’re draftees, you think we give a fuck? no, come do this paperwork. I gotta look good for the review board later, whatever happens here.

And Dad was like, no, and came home instead of re-upping, and a month later half his unit was killed by friendly fire and the other half developed alcoholism. And he goes to unit reunions now, and people he has no memory of are like LT YOU SAVED MY LIFE and he is like I have no idea who you are, but he grew his 1968 moustache back because more of them recognized him that way. (And he copied over all his maps, which he’d saved, and was like, Guys, we were in Laos, and they were like no shit we were? What the fuck?)

And in late 2001 I cried my eyes out and wrote Livejournal posts and said please, please, I will support whatever war is just and will keep terrible things like this from happening again, just– if you’re doing this in my name, if you’re sending my family members to fight in this, please, be sure

and they weren’t, they were fucking lying

and it’s a joke now but they were fucking lying

my sister sent friends home in fucking Ziploc sandwich bags and they were fucking lying the whole time

and now literally everyone hates us for really fucking good reasons.

There are no words for how bitter it tastes, and what we’ve learned is– what? What? What.

Mostly we’ve just gotten real good at angry-crying. BRB practicing now!

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And we asked him: ‘And what are you defending? Where are these communists?’ The soldier didn’t even know what communists were. We asked him: ‘What do communists look like?’ And he said, ‘Well, they tell us they’re in the mountains, that they don’t look like people, and things like that.’ He had no idea of what he was doing.

[…]

And we said to him: ‘If you are a true son of your people, if you really remember the advice of our ancestors, you must go and make a life where you can, but stop being a criminal. Don’t go on killing.’ The soldier went away convinced. And we heard that he didn’t go back to the barracks but went and hid. Perhaps they’ve killed him now or he might be alive, but anyway that soldier didn’t go back to his camp.’

I, Rigoberta Menchú

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bibliophilecellistsoulsearcher replied to your post:in the last 20 minutes of work I encountered an…

oh god, that recipe reminds me of the best bartending friend I ever had, the no-fucks-given and measurements-only-matter-to-spare-your-liver kind of friend.

You just gotta, y’know, feel your proportions, you know. And ice. Like, don’t forget the ice. It’s not insignificant. But the proportions are key. You gotta have like, two to one of your strength to your flavor, you know? Two vodka, one amaretto, your godmother. Two whiskey, one sweet vermouth, your manhattan. Two brandy, one Cointreau, your sidecar; variant two tequila and one Grand Marnier, your margarita. Those are your foundations, that proportion, and then you can put mixers and garnishes and bitters and secondary flavorings in on all that, but those are where you start. (Lemon for sidecars, bitters for Manhattans, lime for Margaritas; lemon-lime soda in a sidecar with jack daniels whiskey instead is a lynchburg lemonade, etcetera.)

The fancy names don’t really mean shit, your bartender’s not really all that impressed.

I really am gonna write a bartending manual one of these days.

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danceswchopstck:

detecivesangelstardisandwands:

zombiemerman:

extraordinary-british-gentleman:

atokniiro:

tea-at-narnia:

actualvriskaserket:

bloosweater:

teppelin:

sexyspoon:

pyrates:

i think this is how i feel most of the time

i got u balloons

omg you are so cute

i got u a cat

i made you a cake

got u a party hat for the party for u

Streamers!

hello friend i bring u anime

I brought happy music :D

THIS IS THE HAPPIEST POST EVER IM SMILING SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS LONELY GIRL HAPPY

@bomberqueen17, I hope this reaches and pleases you

Thank you! Yes, I did need a cheer-up. It’s been A Week. Or so.

Crossposts: http://dragonlady7.livejournal.com/1485721.html

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sheertara138:

If even one stranger likes your selfie that is still kind of remarkable. When I was a kid in the early 90s if I wanted attention from strangers I had to call the radio station.

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okay but
this tree is next to a guard rail on top of mt floyen in Bergen
it is overlooking an incredible panorama of the fjord
and why would you post just this picture with no source or caption? now i’m going to have to find the picture I took here.
because the setting and context for this is AMAZING.

Crossposts: http://dragonlady7.livejournal.com/1486036.html

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peashooter85:

Lady blacksmith, late 19th century.

Crossposts: http://dragonlady7.livejournal.com/1486164.html

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bomberqueen17:

okay butthis tree is next to a guard rail on top of mt floyen in Bergenit is overlooking an incredible panorama of the fjordand why would you post just this picture with no source or caption? now i’m going to have to find the picture I took here. because the setting and context for this is AMAZING.

ok here you go. from july of last year. come the fuck on. like– the setting is WHY THIS IS AMAZING.

i get how the sign is not that prominent here but to hang that up somebody went over the guardrail of this insane mountain that looks down over the most majestic fucking view you’ve ever seen. This is Bergen, Norway, the country’s second-largest city, founded in the Dark Ages at the northernmost reach of the Hanseatic League. You can see the old medieval harbor. It’s fucking amazing.

And there’s this tree up on this mountain– you take a funicular up, and there are old WWII gun emplacements you can’t see anymore, and there are tourist shops and a cafe, and you get this view and it’s amazing. And apropos of nothing, off the side of the Nature Trail, there’s this tree with a sign in English nailed to it and no further information. Like, okay!

I just feel, I dunno, like cropping all that out and setting it to black and white and putting it on an unsourced ~aesthetic~ blog is insulting the witch! And like, don’t! Insult! the witch! C’mon guys.

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International aviation snow symposium: I.e the conference where y'all other feeble airports learn how to clear y'all’s runways from the experts. I worked at Buffalo-Niagara Int'l Airport for a few years and we had a lot of weather delays but it was never the plows’ fault. Awesome souvenir glass at the bar. So many local beers here. (at The Century Grill)

Crossposts: http://dragonlady7.livejournal.com/1486529.html

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Awww shit I gambled and lost. Figured in a town with this many good Mexican joints I’d be fine at a bar tonight but we’re too close to the strip, bunch of white dudes in sombreros just rolled in and I’m'a have to cut a bitch.