Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in stabulous' LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008
9:32 am	Eurgh The whole of the upstairs of work today smells like old-lady rose perfume. I wonder if we have a ghost. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, December 1st, 2007
12:51 pm	Stale cigarette smoke I'm at work, on an incredibly lazy Saturday. The new job allows for days like this, where we don't even bother to hide the rampant abuse of work-related computer access. And I have my knitting sitting behind the desk with me, and every now and again, I take it out and work a few rows. And I'm sitting here, wondering what I keep smelling. It smells like, yuck, your coat, after a night out at the bars. But I changed my clothes, right? And I've bathed and everything. Minty-fresh mouth, even. And eventually come to the realization that it's the yarn! The yarn itself has absorbed the bar ickiness, due to its fiberosity, and its presence at Waterworks last night, as my date. (Well. It and Hannah.) The bar itself is this kitschy faux-tiki themed thing, which sounds dreadful. The front windows have these fountain-attachment things on them, which continually stream sheets of water down them, so that if you're inside, and you've had a few, you will keep looking out the window and thinking 'fuck! I have to drive home in that." They also have these big glossy menus with giant photos of their 'drink specials' that are all variants on things I actually drank in Hawaii. Things colored blue, served in strangely shaped glasses, bedecked with maraschino cherries and other suspicious fruits. Thank goodness they also will cut straight to the chase and serve a respectable whiskey to a poor girl, and they get major points for serving the most awesome bar appetizers I've ever seen: a very simple plate of mashed potatoes. So sensible! Starchy stomache lining food! The smell on the knitting keeps reminding me of something from a few years ago, which I think I may have written about. Climbing out of an ex-boyfriend's bed at three in the morning, having sobered up and feeling like hell, and driving home to my parent's house in the pitch dark. Covered in disgust and the physical feeling of nausea and that disgusting cigarette smell in my hair and clothes and thinking that if this were a short story, the metaphor would just be too overwrought. Current Mood: nostalgic (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 13th, 2007
10:19 am	what I like to do with my weekends Test test. This is sort of me testing this image application, which I've never used before. I *could* just post the links, but I want to see if this will work. I think the best part of this is the cheerleader-fanning of my hands for maximum volume. Or possibly the dopey look on his face. Also, I really really like this one. Same night, later, with more bruises. edit: okay, so no? Apparently not. This should be picture 2 in the gallery, maybe? And this is the last one, number 40 (Comment on this)
10:19 am	not different. Just strange. You probably shouldn't read this if you get squicked or if you don't want to know TMI sorts of things. ( Possible Overshare Alert ) Did you like that, you nosy Parker you? (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 18th, 2007
8:17 am	Where do you stand On the subject of people who sing along to movies. I'm not talking about Rocky Horror, here, although if you're singing along to RHPS, you're missing a perfectly good opportunity to scream profanities. Let's say I have this hypothetical ex-roommate who, hypothetically, is a huge theater geek. Listens to a lot of soundtracks, goes up to New York every year and takes in a minimum of 2-3 shows, whatever. Let's say that, when we went to see the Producers last year at the movies, a group of us, I had to ask her no less than 3 times to please be quiet, I would like to hear the actors on the screen sing their lines, please. Let's say that as a chorally trained singer, her little falsetto drives me nuts, it's the singing of someone who never adapted their voice once they hit puberty. But that's beside the point. It's a matter of simple etiquette here, right? If you're watching a movie in a group of people, whether it's out in public at the movies, or in the living room of a home, is it okay to sing every single word of every single song? Every damn word? Hypothetically speaking, it happened again last night and I had to squish myself hard to hypothetically keep from asking her to please shut up. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, September 10th, 2007
7:59 am	When I was a kid, my best friend lived in the most awesome house in the whole world. Huge rooms, walking distance from the pool and a convenience store, a giant backyard for us to tear around in. There was a secret passage from the library to her parents' bathroom, which I like to think was from antebellum times, when the house was used as a stop on the Underground Railroad, but I could have been making that up. A bookshelf swung away to reveal a little door, and if they had felt like unlatching it that day, you could open it and be in the bathroom all of a sudden, just like that. When you're five, that sort of thing is very much like magic. I've always thought, if I had a real house of my own, when I grew up, if I won the lottery or wrote some fabulous book or something, it would have secret doors and passages. Heck, don't even tell me where they are, just put them in there for me to find. Also a spiral staircase in the library (of course it will have a library), and a round green front door like in The Hobbit. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 8th, 2007
9:38 am	It's weird Sometimes, especially when I'm driving or walking across campus, I think of something that I want to post here. And it's always extra-witty and fully developed and gosh, something that I *would* like all my friends who I haven't talked to in forever to read. So, I've decided that I'm going to go to DragonCon next year for sure. I have no idea how to go about this. I know you buy tickets and hotel reservations are a must (and my friends say that the Hyatt is the best one, although feel free to disagree), and that I need to save up and bring a certain amount of mad money. And there's some sort of con schedule somewhere so I can do planning. And that I need to bring Airborne so I won't get the con crud. And that I missed Rachel's last show with the Cruxshadows. Sigh. Any other advice? (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 1st, 2007
3:43 pm	I got in! I got in! *dances around, showing you a piece of paper* I got into grad school! *cough* hi. how are you? (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 13th, 2007
7:50 am	Paranoia The very definition of quiet personal horror: three AM, gotta have this paper finished by sunrise, I'm all cranked up on over caffeinated tea, I'm trying to be quiet so I don't wake up the boy (who wouldn't go home so I wouldn't have to feel guilty), and my heart is beating double time because a COCKROACH tried to crawl up my leg a little while ago and now I have it trapped in a plastic bag over on the other side of the room and I can hear it in there and it's CHITTERING. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, March 11th, 2007
3:34 pm	Ho hum. Directed at my library-type friends. Looking for books about organized crime involvement with various industries of New York City. Longshoremen, sanitation, transportation. Once upon a time, I had the most wonderful inbox in the world, full of delightful non sequiturs. thefez, among other sundry wonders, wrote me a series of wonderful /msgs, stream of consciousness missives from his job, about having to travel across the boroughs to check on things like two tons of cheese that got held up in customs, and crates of formerly-live frogs that had somehow gotten lost in shipping. All of these things had to be assessed for insurance loss, and his job was to separate the wheat from the chaff. Mysterious lurking men in suits cut tight across the shoulders looming on the periphery, possibly menacing him, although that may be my imagination. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
2:56 pm	this may be reaching critical mass In between short bursts of productivity as I sit and drink tea and work on my research paper about the history of knitting in early modern Europe, I rest my hands from the keyboard and pick up my knitting while I pop over and check my favorite knitting blogs. Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached Terror Level Full Blown Obsession. (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 14th, 2007
12:47 am	awful awful dream I have this policy about people's dreams. I don't really care to hear about it, and if you are going to tell me, it had better be fucking awesome, otherwise I will cut you. So you'll have to bear with me, because I have got to get this off my chest, and I mean off my chest in the same way that a doctor needs to cut that malignant throbbing tumor out of your throactic cavity. It left me feeling dirty and shivering when I woke up, needing to scrub it out of my brain with bleach. So by all means! Read about it! I dreamt I had picked a piece of fruit and taken a bite from it, and that it gave underneath my teeth and started to bleed. As I bent over to spit out a seed, I looked into the flesh of the fruit itself, and saw that it was studded with these seeds, something halfway between the way a pomegranate or an orange is. Only, now that I looked at them, they weren't seeds at all, but dozens of small, sticky children's baby teeth (Comment on this)
Friday, January 12th, 2007
12:08 pm	I need to get a better life. I'm in the middle of writing a thank you note for my aunt and uncle....and I start to wonder if I should wait to mail it until they're back from their research trip (coral reef fish) to Indonesia. My to-do list for tomorrow reminds me that it doesn't matter if my sister's in Guatamala (helping Americans adopt small, adorable brown babies), I still need to call and wish her a happy birthday, so she'll hear it when she gets back. Last time I saw my little brother he was talking about the process of getting his Fullbright grant application in so he'll be back in Russia. We didn't see my step-brother over the holidays because we don't know where he is. Last we heard, he was being sent to Djibouti, but everything else was very hush-hush. I am sending a care package tomorrow in the mail to my best friend, who joined the Peace Corps over the summer. She's in Mongolia, and she's written to say that it's a warm winter thus far, "only -10 degrees!". She's desperately craving peanut butter, so I can't decide to send plain peanut butter or if she'd actually like to have Nutella and just doesn't know it. .....I feel like I'm letting someone down. I think that someone is me. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 18th, 2006
7:37 pm	He says the sweetest things Mike is in a band now, of sorts. He insists that they are called the Firebreathing Hellskulls From Hell. I will persist in calling them The Collective Nouns until something pithier presents itself. We are discussing the (maybe someday) when they start to compose their own music, rather than covers. Mostly, I think he's in it for the practice time each week, where they ingest pie and beer and wail away in a storage unit on the other side of town. Me:Well, just to head you off right now, there's absolutely nothing that rhymes with Emily. Trust me, I know. Him: Pssh, your name doesn't have to actually be in it for the song to be about you. Me: Really? Him: Yeah. There's a lot of words that rhyme with "bite". (Comment on this)
Monday, November 13th, 2006
10:52 am	on vernacular One of the most flattering things I can remember ever being said to me, I cannot place the context now. The man who said it ended up being a real jerk, although, in his defense, I was probably a pretty lousy lay at that time. But I just remember a conversation we had at one point, where he admitted that bits of my speech patterns were beginning to infect his. Something about how my 'darlins' and 'dolls' were starting to slip out at the end of his sentences. How much of a personality is learned behavior? How much of who you are/I am is made up of the jerks and the sweethearts and the truly arresting ones who've come before? (Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 31st, 2006
1:32 pm	please skip, as it's all very waaaambulance I'm having sort of a crisis of personality. Erm. So. I have this difference of opinion with myself. On the one hand, I really like the idea of myself as this brash, confident take-me-as-I-am woman. But the thing is, in practice, it doesn't come off nearly as well as I'd like. For one thing: the principle recipients of this are the ones closest to me, which means I often realize (always too late) that I'm being a completely emasculating bitch. I don't like that. Secondly, I'm realizing, slowly, that going around ever so slighty pissed off all the time has the teensy side effect of...being in a state of pissed-offedness all the damn time. Neck tension, headaches, and a constant misery in my stomache. Third, it is becoming increasingly clear to me that, well. In certain social situations, I am not very well liked. Which is a crap reason for doing anything in your life, I know. But I am alienating people, and that's no good either. Sigh. Is it Re-inventing Myself time again? (Comment on this)
Friday, October 27th, 2006
12:46 pm	Most mornings when I wake up, I immediately have the unstoppable urge to share my dreams with Mike, which I realize must be very tedious for him. Apparently, he doesn't dream, or if he does, does not remember them upon waking, which I think must be very sad. Just recently, he has started making shit up in response to my noodly-brained meanderings. Yesterday morning, I asked him "what was your dream?" To which he replied; "Zombie!: the Musical" We've been writing the soundtrack ever since. Old timey faves such as O Please Put Away the Shotgun, I Just Gotta Eat, and My Machete and Me. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 24th, 2006
2:41 pm	trying to put a name to a concept.... A sexy concept. Maybe it's only sexy if you're me. What to call it? I know exactly how it feels (it's usually when I've cinched my bra too tight and all day long, I feel curiously...vulnerable). I know it when I see it, usually on Baywatch-style calendars, although I'm sure the world has moved on from Baywatch by now. But you know what I'm talking about. It's the shot when the incredibly busty smoldery-eyed temptress has the conspicuously high-cut midriff shirt, and the curves of her breasts are juuuuustt this close to exposing some serious nipple. I have one serious contender for my vote: when voiced, a knitting friend of mine went all distant-eyed and serious before bestowing it with fancy words. sur-demi, she said. Below the middle. It's French! She said. Underboob is other word my brain spits out for it, but I like that less. for one thing, where are the italics? Suggestions? Helpful references? Amateur porn photos of yourself exemplifying this concept? (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 27th, 2006
11:03 am	I was thinking today about children's poetry. How The Jabberwocky is perhaps one of the most delicious assembly of sounds in the English language. Whether the joy of Where the Wild Things Are comes from the words or the illustrations or both, whether you would love it as much if you couldn't see the Minotaur with hairy feet or the Cockatrice. Why exactly Goodnight Moon is so incredibly soothing, and why I can't get Christopher Walken's reading of it out of my head. What was your favorite poem/book when you were a kid? (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 20th, 2006
12:58 pm	I don't even know if this is canon but it makes sense. And is good advice. Anya's first rule of dating, as written in nwhepcat's The Bright Blessed Day, the Dark Sacred Night : Never date a man with a "the" anywhere in his name. Seriously. That's some good advice. Take that one to heart. (Comment on this)