sundries

[rm]

I'm having one of those periodic things I have where I want to knit. I'm a pretty lousy knitter. I can do a scarf, but that's about it. But in posting all those LJ small businesses yesterday, a bit of yarn jumped out at me.

Anyway, this led to the following horrific observation on Twitter: @racheline_m: Why hasn't someone made a 456 knitting pattern yet? Everyone wants a knit, vomiting, 3-headed turkey, don't they?

Which then led to the horrifying personal observation -- you guys know I live on the 4/5/6 train, yeah?

Okay, the White House gate crashers? met the President. I really, really, will be deeply, deeply annoyed if these people aren't in a world of trouble. Free passes on this sort of thing will just encourage more of it, and in our reality TV world, people will always rise to the challenge of self-promotional asshattery.

The houses of NYC.

Last night we went to see A Streetcar Named Desire. It was an exceptional and very funny production and the director tried to bring as much ambiguity to it as possible (maybe everyone is crazy, maybe everyone in a liar), but at the end of the day, it's still a weird play trapped in the moment of its creation and that moment's conception of sexuality and insanity. Still, it was a fine, fine thing, and it's interesting to me, the degree to which I can now recognize which performers came out of NIDA and which didn't, by very specific performance ticks. And, of course, being a mostly NIDA alum production, spectacular and intelligent sets.

I've just been linked to this: GDL (blond! and with Stephen Fry, and I think a chick that was in Spooks). It was good for a giggle early this morning, although it suffers more than a bit if you're lacking various England/Wales contexts.

I hope everyone is having fun at Chicago Tardis. Can I be right in that I'm not hearing eight billion pounds of squeeing out of it due to the lack of Torchwood boys as guests? People, squee anyway, some of us do still care.

bodlon points out the Frenzy of Fail that is this article about a transwoman over at the Boston Herald.

Oh my god our cruise is in five or so weeks and I still need to: find the right shoes for my tux (which will be here in a couple of weeks), buy a suit bag, double-check on my gluten-free food stuff for the trip, make sure Patty and I have all the wardrobe stuff we need (like post-swimming coverups), order various cruise extras (from our excursions to random luxury things for the room for our departure), and on and on and on. I can't believe we were originally booked on something department December 10th. Man, I am so glad this isn't happening until January.

OMG, tux! Also am excited to see the swatches that Seyta is sending me for the new shirts I'm ordering. I love my shirts from Duchess a ridiculous, ridiculous amount. I may have to go with a dark blue one too, since I lost my dark blue one from Uniqlo, and I do absolutely need one in that color for cosplay at Gallifrey One anyway.

Okay, I really need to stop being depressed about NaNo, and just go back to writing my book without the collective frenzy and get that damn werewolf story done. Just do it. Blah.

Plants vs. Zombies music video. I blame Patty.

Wanting to Want. A six page article in The New York Times about female sexual desire? This can't end well. Actually, I'm still only on the first page. With the raisins. WHUT? you ask. Yeah, just... have fun.

Yet another article claiming that Sarah Palin's biggest obstacle is gender, and that women don't like her because they're jealous ... or something. Maybe women don't like her because fewer women go for anti-choice, anti-gay politics AND because women can't believe this is the level of discourse they have to keep looking at this thing on. Aaaaargh. I'd argue women can't let Sarah Palin go, because men won't let them.

Anatomy of the Tauntaun sleeping bag.

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[idunn.livejournal.com]

Meanwhile, court records have revealed a more complete picture of the Salahis, who have left an extensive paper trail in federal bankruptcy and state court filings.

Call me silly, but if I had a lot of dirt under the rug, the last thing I'd want to do is draw attention to myself and do anything to get my name in the news - including become a reality TV star or crash a White House dinner.