sundries: laws of the universe department

I have to wear formal white breeches this weekend. Which of course means I just got my period.

I rightly ordered my binder to home, since I apparently chose the non-discrete company. Annoyingl, I now have to go to the post office to pick it up.

Er, it might fucking snow this weekend. Snow is charming, but that blows.

Patty, bless her little non-Whovian heart, showed me hilarious camera phone pictures of an impromptu birthday cake they made for a coworker out of little debbie cakes, chocolate frosting, snocaps and licorice. It was Daleks! The person the cake was for did not know what Daleks were.

Jack & Ianto pumpkin carving template. Actually, she might be sad she's getting to miss howling with affectionate laughter as I curse the pumpkin. Anyway, if anyone else does it, you gotta take pics!

Why my tickets to Zurich have still not been purchased: a coworker's last name is too long to fit entirely in the booking field and no one knows what to do. Tickets in hand. Really going to Switzerland. Er... I feel complicated and moody.

Gay man beaten to death in Trafalgar Square. I'm not sure why I keep posting these all of a sudden, perhaps it's as a furtherance of the "being gay makes people lie and this is why" conversation. Maybe I'm just appalled. You know, the truth is, this shit happens all the time, but I think people think it doesn't happen in New York City, it doesn't happen in London. Yeah, well, it does.

Meanwhile, I almost hesitate to link to this Daily Mail nonsense about the Gately death, and it makes me feel a bit like if I lived in Britain I'd go a little bit insane. I'm not sure why it reads as more awful to me than crap in US papers -- I guess here we've figured out by now that straight couples have threesomes, do drugs and all the rest too. On the other hand, maybe we're just too busy equating gay sex with bestiality to wonder about a gay couple bringing home a third? Anyway, it's an annoying, bullshit, slimy piece to which my main thought is "more people of more types do more "outre" shit than you can possibly imagine. Beyond being dead, this shit is so not news." Of course, the article is really just one more iteration of "check out these people who were richer and cooler and more sophisticated than you because they were DEVIANT, and now one of them is DEAD, aren't you secretly glad?" It's just so tiring. Is everyone always worrying whether they are keeping up with the Joneses (or whomever) in their most private of lives? Yeah, probably. We're a stupid species. (this link and the previous via smirnoffmule.)

Where the Wild Things Are was not a huge part of my childhood, but the movie looks sooooooo amazing to me. There's something very emotionally primal and aesthetically Nordic about all the clips I've seen so far... I'm not sure what it is, but it really speaks to something in me. I am, to be frank, a little worried I will either be disappointed (since I am so excited) or heartbroken by the film in a way where I won't be okay for a little while (films with ordinary childhood traumas in them -- bullying, fights with parents, etc. -- tend to be very difficult for me to watch. Films where these things are heightened -- say, the abandonment scene in A.I. -- I've got to force myself not to run out of the theater.). So we'll see how that all goes.

Last night we wound up at once of those hidden New York nightclubs for marrus's book party thing. There was a room filled with a multi-story couch cave and Patty and I hid in it and were glad to be warm and chattered about how it was a cat tree for humans, and it was all very odd and then I ran into some guy I met at Marrus's house years ago who apparently works near me and sees me on the street all the time. Then we left to get catfood, but not before I had figured out an episode of Io Station for ConSweet. The whole show within a book factor makes this a lot of work, but it also makes this funny. It's like "place cracky idea in water, grow fandom."

My father CC'd me on a (presumably accidentally) blank email to authorhouse. Whatever this is, it's going to be annoying.

Imaginary City at BAM tonight.

Now off to two different post offices (pick something up at one, check P.O. box at another), then work, then briefly get dance slippers for Patty, then more work, then BAM! Bam Bam. BAM BAM BAM! -- It's like the fucking Flintstones.

We leave for CT in the morning.