lullabelle

I hate it when, after telling a woman something they don't want to hear, they then sic their husbands on me. Seriously. "You suck" with a side order of "grow a spine". Just because your 300lb keeper is getting all up in my face, it doesn't make me any less able to to provide you with a room on a night we've been sold out for six months, or to jam a second cot into your room with one queen bed because you booked through priceline and that's what they gave you. It just means I'm going to stop dealing with you, and you can call back on Monday when there's a manager available for you to abuse. If I ever see William Shatner, there are gonna be some words, lemme tell you.

There's been a lot of !fail going around the internet lately. There was the whole Supernatural RPF in Haiti debacle involving race, and non-whites being used as props as opposed to actual people, and there was a lovely piece regarding Independence Day and the erasure of cultural identity in favor of Just Being American that was so chock full of fail that just thinking about it makes me break out in hives. I'm Irish-American, third/fourth generation by way of Boston, and proud of it. I have a rich and interesting familial history that reads like something out of a mob novel. On my father's side, my grandfather was one of 12 children, and my grandmother was one of 14. Basically, I'm related to half of the city, and I consider it part of my identity though I've never actually lived there. I'd never give up my hyphens for anything. The fact that I can retain my hyphens is part of what makes living here so great.

So, there's two cents worth.

Basically, I've been avoiding all of these arguments because I don't like arguments, which is shitty of me, because I have an opinion, and a !fail argument has finally bit me in the ass personally.

Tonight that horrible, horrible stereotype of bisexual people being unable to "pick a team" reared its ugly head at me, and honestly, I've heard it before, but I heard it tonight from somewhere so unexpected that it actually hurt. Today I was told that I "barely counted" as queer. And I was so shocked that I didn't say anything. I at least managed to leave the apartment before I started crying, which I think counts for something. Honestly, this sentiment is not new; I was just so unprepared for it. The person who said it to me is a queer male liberal. I knew this same person when he was a straight female conservative. And I have been there for him through all of it. I have been supportive. He's hurt me a bit before with careless commentary. This is the first time his passive aggression has crossed the line into plain old aggression.

What the fuck.

It just kills me, because he's worked as a volunteer for emergency suicide hotlines. So he'll talk strangers off a cliff, but he'll slap friends in the face. I don't even know how to respond. I don't think I want to. I hate this kind of conflict. He should know better. He does know better. To be involved in all the things he's involved with, he fucking must.

I have enough shit to deal with, really. I'm not a huge fan of the term "bisexual" because it adheres to a gender binary that I don't support, but I'll often use it because I don't like having to explain the concept of pansexuality, and because "pansexual" sounds snotty. I don't really like the word, even if it is more accurate. I'll use the term "queer" if I can at all get away with it. I have had roughly the same number of female partners -- in both relationships and ill-advised sexual encounters -- as I have male partners, not that something like that should matter. But one half of my relationship experience has just been completely discounted, because evidently I cannot fully commit to it. I'm not sure which half. I don't care. I matter, goddammit.

ETA: He called to apologize, and told me he realizes that dismissing my opinions out-of-hand in that way was uncool. I accepted his apology, and told him I was sorry for storming out of his apartment like a drama queen instead of simply standing up for myself, which is what I should have done. I think he would have been receptive if I told him what about his statement had upset me, and why. I'm gonna call this one water under the bridge.

Uuuugh... the fact that I, like, never call out of work is a point of pride for me. But I need to be awake in, like, 5 hours and I just cannot. stop. puking.

And this is saying something. I haven't thrown up since I'd just turned twenty-one. I hate throwing up. Like, despise it. If it comes down to puking or feeling sick all evening, I'll go ahead and feel sick all evening.

I think I have food poisoning. I think this is what food poisoning feels like. I have no idea what I could have possibly eaten, though, to make me feel this sick. Normal fare for me, and nothing tasted spoiled... some kind of bug? I don't really feel sick except for my stomach...

I think I'm calling out of work tomorrow.

Fuck fuck fuck. I don't have the money to call out sick. Goddammit.

Grrr...

I'm writing a Torchwood/Authority crossover. Something to do between frantic dives for the toilet bowl.

1. I am very, very, very excited about the idea of new Torchwood.

2. Today was a very good day. I was happy all day, despite having a pounding headache and the persistant need to puke, which was weird. Still a good day. IDK.

3. The idea of new Torchwood makes me roughly 342.98809 times more excited for NY Comic Con than I was previously. And that is saying something.

4. One of my best friends is getting married. She was talking to me today about her potential wedding plans. A bouncy castle was mentioned. I am terrified, yet intrigued.

5. I've had the world's worst writer's block for about a week now... I can't even write in my journal, it's ridiculous. Lists, though. I can do lists.

6. I've been angsting a bit lately. Everyone's got their own stuff going on right now, though, so I can't really vent my angst. It's insignificant in comparison. Like... really.

7. Inktober may come early this year. I love my tattoo, but it's stark, and I'm ready for that part of my life to be over. I think I'm ready to tart-up my tat. Orchids, maybe? (My sister suggested shamrocks, for my father, but there's something squicky about referencing my dad on the tattoo I got to memorialize the first guy I let down my pants... my father would have hated him, and he definitely hated tattoos.)

8. I need to do something. I need to cheer up, have something to look forward to, yadayadayada. I need to get out more and meet new people, but I don't even know where to start. I'm always pretty exhausted when I get home. I spend a lot of time reading/watching tv/bumming around on here because it's all I really have the energy to do.

I need to find a way to get my back muscles to relax, or I'm going to lose my mind.

This? Was way wangstier than I meant it to be.

However, watching this always makes me laugh, and then I feel kind of evil, but not evil enough to keep me from feeling better. :)

To Do Today:

- Shave legs. Success!
- Get car alignment fixed (hopefully for free, since they're the ones who screwed it up...), oil changed. ETA: "Wasn't us! Have you gone offroading, and are your tires flat?" (No and no. Fucksticks. I brought the car to you because it wouldn't start, and now it's constantly trying to drive me into a ditch. I'm really not in the mood to fight with you, but...) Called my auto place, got someone less condescending who told me to bring it in. Turns out that it wasn't their fault, and I am also not crazy. The guy who towed me on Friday wrapped the chain around the control arm to my back tire, instead of the tow hook, essentially turning it into a bendy straw. I registered a complaint with AAA, and they'll get back to me in "today or less than 3 business days". Again, fucksticks.
- Project for work. Redoing it again. I will never finish. Sent an e-mail saying it wouldn't be done today. Fuck it, I am so not in the mood, especially after our meeting yesterday... I need my day off to be an actual day off.
- redisourcolor prompt. Hallelujah for extended deadlines.
- Own WIPs? (I'll probably fall asleep before this...)

Next day I have off, I'm doing something fun. I don't care if I have no money or 80 jillion other things I should be doing. Portland, maybe. Or Boston, if I'm feeling frisky. We shall see. <3

Supposed to be at work *checks watch* FOUR MINUTES AGO.

STUPID CAR WON'T START.

Typed "car won't start" into google, got (predictably) fifteen bajiiiiiillion hits. Typed "Hyundai won't start", and the first - THE VERY FIRST - page to come up was a forum of people complaining about how their '02 Hyundai Accents have a habit of not starting. Evidently '02 was a dud year for the Accent. This has actually happened to me a few times. It's been everything from the battery, to the transmission, to my-car-hates-humidity-try-again-in-an-hour. GRRRRAWR.

Trying to find a ride into work -- It's UNH graduation weekend, one of our busiest weekends of the year, otherwise I'd say "fuck it" and call AAA.

BUUUUuut I can't call AAA on the off-chance I find a ride, because I'd have to be here when the mechanics come -- which can take anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour and a half.

Also, I'm pretty sure the way I'm parked makes towing impossible.

F.M.L.

I've noticed something.

In my fanfic, I tend to write Gwen being awesome and Ianto being awful. I think I do this just to be ornery.

*does the Friday/day off happy dance*

Supernatural, mac and cheese, a BRAND NEW blank notebook, and a steadfast refusal to do anything productive.

Today is going to ROCK.