sundries

Had to run out the door this morning with my tie untied, which was sort of annoying, but funny and plot bunny-ish.

I had a pretty horrible nightmare last night, that somehow referenced Lost (which I don't watch, but have seen a few episodes of) and a whole lot of having to just stand there and let people take shots at me (you know, like, with guns) because if I didn't, they'd hunt me down and murder me and this way I at least stood half a chance if the bullet just got my shoulder or my leg or something.

For someone who has gun familiarity and hasn't had any bad experiences with guns, I sure have a lot of nightmares about them. I mean, I have a lot of nightmares about a lot of things, but the ones where I get shot bug me the most, because apparently the words I use to describe what that feels like in dreams match accounts I've subsequently read there of. Weirds me out just a tad.

Anyway, this time I blame the latest Torchwood novel (The Undertaker's Gift), which I'll probably get around to reviewing tomorrow.

And, the dream took place at a con, so that part was probably about ConSweet.

I did a ridiculous amount of structural and background work on ConSweet last night. tsarina came through with the name of the show (Io Station! It's just bad enough....) and now I just need to populate it with characters and plot lines and actors and writers and a fandom and shipping wars. That's a particularly strange part of the project.

I also figured out some more structural hilarity (how do we move in time, which is something I always struggle with from chapter to chapter? Why with interludes from the evil Internet gossip column, of course!) and brainstormed on "how many ways can a guy reasonably wind up locked out of his hotel room in some state of dishabille" -- I'm sorry, Evan, but I think you're really going to have to go to one of your panels without your shoes.

*rubs hands together in malicious glee*

ETA: OMG, new character. Evan's ex-gf! She's only a voice on the phone, but hahaahahah.

I'm going to hell.

shadesong reports that Polaroid instant film products are coming back to the market. I love this. I love Polaroids. I'm also obsessed with things lost to the world, and sometimes, it seems, they aren't, or not for long.

This is either really cool or will freak you out. SF writers should read it for fake science tips that come from real science. Rats put in suspended animation with poison gas may be the future of emergency medicine. ARE WE HAVING FUN YET? Yikes.

From the whole Internet: shapeshifting robot is coming to get you.

Meanwhile, in less meet-our-new-science-fiction-overlords news, we have cats. They are fat. Okay, only Little Kitty is fat, but she's fat enough for the two of them. Last night, she got trapped in the couch.

I almost wanted to offer a link to this picture without comment, but it's actually worth commenting on in some convoluted way about how one of the many things that benefits from people getting over their bullshit about LGBTQ people is male friendship, because then there isn't that whole "but it's suspect!" thing. But I'm tired and I've got a lot of stuff to do, and also, politicians (your politicians are not as cute as our politicians, I might add -- I'm still so into Rahm Emmanuel, but we're not talking about that), so yikesy. But yeah, there you go.

Congressional spouses -- one straight, one gay. This is awesome and interesting and is worth viewing if only to see how you react (probably differently in each case) to the congressional spouses doing laundry and domestic tasks. And, it turns out that the gay spouse's ID card wasn't supposed to say "spouse" and it's sorta sad and awful.

Save Twig!

Technically speaking, it's Fortune 500, not Fortunate 500.

And to return us, perhaps oddly, to the topic of guns, FunList is having a shooting excursion in CT. Sadly, I will be out of the country.