Things You Learn When You're Sick
Nov. 18th, 2002 08:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakenguy*The more it hurts to laugh, the better the odds that you'll find something really funny on TV, or that D will bring it home. Like the 'Monsters, Inc.' DVD with the bonus material. I watched 'Mike's New Car', and I swear I felt my left lung breaking up into small fragments and floating loose in my rib cage.
And then I watched it a second time. Because hey, pain is temporary. Comedy is forever.
*I'm in brain-lust with a writer named Sars. It's completely platonic....no, no it's not. That's a lie. I want to send her brain funny photos and stimulating essays, I want to woo it and earn its love and win it over and convince it to move into MY skull, and thereby triple my intelligence and funniness and ability to write cogent prose while drinking 17 Coronas.
*Here's a sample of her brain at work, from Tomato Nation (www.tomatonation.com): 'We don't like musical montage sequences on Buffy. We've tried to give them a chance, but we just don't like them. We don't go over to Marti Noxon's house while she's reading a book and look over her shoulder until she gets to A Poignant Moment and point at the page and tell her, "That's poignant, see? Because she -- do you get that? Hold on, let me put a CD on. Okay, now do you get it? Okay. Let me know when you get to page 143, because it's resonant, and we don't want you to miss it," now, do we? No, we certainly don't. And we want her to stop doing it to us.'
See? See? I that brain. I think I'm going to go see if I can put it on my Amazon wishlist.
*Not that I shop at Amazon and do little dances of glee when I arrive home and see that wonderful white-and-blue box sitting on my steps like a basket of puppies, no no no. I merely put a wishlist there so that I can keep track of books I will eventually get at local indie bookstores (which aren't run by crackpot right wing settlement-promoters, yeah, that's right Wordsworth, I'm looking at you.) Yeah. Really.
*28,003 words, and my story already has more characters than a Dostoevsky novel. Maybe it's time for a plague. Oh, but wait, I was saving that for when I reach 49,100, have to resolve everything, and realize I have 900 words in which to resolve 412 plotlines.
*A random audio sampling of sounds overheard last night, as in the style of 'This American Life':
"C'mon, bitch, let me in the car! I need my stuff!!"
"Look, I swear to God, to your Uncle John, to EVERYBODY, I am NOT going to HURT you!!"
"AAAAAAA!!! You ran over my fucking foot!!!!!!!"
"Hello, you're
And then I watched it a second time. Because hey, pain is temporary. Comedy is forever.
*I'm in brain-lust with a writer named Sars. It's completely platonic....no, no it's not. That's a lie. I want to send her brain funny photos and stimulating essays, I want to woo it and earn its love and win it over and convince it to move into MY skull, and thereby triple my intelligence and funniness and ability to write cogent prose while drinking 17 Coronas.
*Here's a sample of her brain at work, from Tomato Nation (www.tomatonation.com): 'We don't like musical montage sequences on Buffy. We've tried to give them a chance, but we just don't like them. We don't go over to Marti Noxon's house while she's reading a book and look over her shoulder until she gets to A Poignant Moment and point at the page and tell her, "That's poignant, see? Because she -- do you get that? Hold on, let me put a CD on. Okay, now do you get it? Okay. Let me know when you get to page 143, because it's resonant, and we don't want you to miss it," now, do we? No, we certainly don't. And we want her to stop doing it to us.'
See? See? I
*Not that I shop at Amazon and do little dances of glee when I arrive home and see that wonderful white-and-blue box sitting on my steps like a basket of puppies, no no no. I merely put a wishlist there so that I can keep track of books I will eventually get at local indie bookstores (which aren't run by crackpot right wing settlement-promoters, yeah, that's right Wordsworth, I'm looking at you.) Yeah. Really.
*28,003 words, and my story already has more characters than a Dostoevsky novel. Maybe it's time for a plague. Oh, but wait, I was saving that for when I reach 49,100, have to resolve everything, and realize I have 900 words in which to resolve 412 plotlines.
*A random audio sampling of sounds overheard last night, as in the style of 'This American Life':
"C'mon, bitch, let me in the car! I need my stuff!!"
"Look, I swear to God, to your Uncle John, to EVERYBODY, I am NOT going to HURT you!!"
"AAAAAAA!!! You ran over my fucking foot!!!!!!!"
"Hello, you're
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*The more it hurts to laugh, the better the odds that you'll find something really funny on TV, or that D will bring it home. Like the 'Monsters, Inc.' DVD with the bonus material. I watched 'Mike's New Car', and I swear I felt my left lung breaking up into small fragments and floating loose in my rib cage.
And then I watched it a second time. Because hey, pain is temporary. Comedy is forever.
*I'm in brain-lust with a writer named Sars. It's completely platonic....no, no it's not. That's a lie. I want to send her brain funny photos and stimulating essays, I want to woo it and earn its love and win it over and convince it to move into MY skull, and thereby triple my intelligence and funniness and ability to write cogent prose while drinking 17 Coronas.
*Here's a sample of her brain at work, from Tomato Nation (www.tomatonation.com): 'We don't like musical montage sequences on Buffy. We've tried to give them a chance, but we just don't like them. We don't go over to Marti Noxon's house while she's reading a book and look over her shoulder until she gets to A Poignant Moment and point at the page and tell her, "That's poignant, see? Because she -- do you get that? Hold on, let me put a CD on. Okay, now do you get it? Okay. Let me know when you get to page 143, because it's resonant, and we don't want you to miss it," now, do we? No, we certainly don't. And we want her to stop doing it to us.'
See? See? I <heart> that brain. I think I'm going to go see if I can put it on my Amazon wishlist.
*Not that I shop at Amazon and do little dances of glee when I arrive home and see that wonderful white-and-blue box sitting on my steps like a basket of puppies, no no no. I merely put a wishlist there so that I can keep track of books I will eventually get at local indie bookstores (which aren't run by crackpot right wing settlement-promoters, yeah, that's right Wordsworth, I'm looking at you.) Yeah. Really.
*28,003 words, and my story already has more characters than a Dostoevsky novel. Maybe it's time for a plague. Oh, but wait, I was saving that for when I reach 49,100, have to resolve everything, and realize I have 900 words in which to resolve 412 plotlines.
*A random audio sampling of sounds overheard last night, as in the style of 'This American Life':
"C'mon, bitch, let me in the car! I need my stuff!!"
"Look, I swear to God, to your Uncle John, to EVERYBODY, I am NOT going to HURT you!!"
"AAAAAAA!!! You ran over my fucking foot!!!!!!!"
"Hello, you're <neighbor's name>? We received a report of a disturbance?"
And then I watched it a second time. Because hey, pain is temporary. Comedy is forever.
*I'm in brain-lust with a writer named Sars. It's completely platonic....no, no it's not. That's a lie. I want to send her brain funny photos and stimulating essays, I want to woo it and earn its love and win it over and convince it to move into MY skull, and thereby triple my intelligence and funniness and ability to write cogent prose while drinking 17 Coronas.
*Here's a sample of her brain at work, from Tomato Nation (www.tomatonation.com): 'We don't like musical montage sequences on Buffy. We've tried to give them a chance, but we just don't like them. We don't go over to Marti Noxon's house while she's reading a book and look over her shoulder until she gets to A Poignant Moment and point at the page and tell her, "That's poignant, see? Because she -- do you get that? Hold on, let me put a CD on. Okay, now do you get it? Okay. Let me know when you get to page 143, because it's resonant, and we don't want you to miss it," now, do we? No, we certainly don't. And we want her to stop doing it to us.'
See? See? I <heart> that brain. I think I'm going to go see if I can put it on my Amazon wishlist.
*Not that I shop at Amazon and do little dances of glee when I arrive home and see that wonderful white-and-blue box sitting on my steps like a basket of puppies, no no no. I merely put a wishlist there so that I can keep track of books I will eventually get at local indie bookstores (which aren't run by crackpot right wing settlement-promoters, yeah, that's right Wordsworth, I'm looking at you.) Yeah. Really.
*28,003 words, and my story already has more characters than a Dostoevsky novel. Maybe it's time for a plague. Oh, but wait, I was saving that for when I reach 49,100, have to resolve everything, and realize I have 900 words in which to resolve 412 plotlines.
*A random audio sampling of sounds overheard last night, as in the style of 'This American Life':
"C'mon, bitch, let me in the car! I need my stuff!!"
"Look, I swear to God, to your Uncle John, to EVERYBODY, I am NOT going to HURT you!!"
"AAAAAAA!!! You ran over my fucking foot!!!!!!!"
"Hello, you're <neighbor's name>? We received a report of a disturbance?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 07:35 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-11-18 08:08 am (UTC)Of course, I'd be tempted to throw the contest just so I could see what sort of LARP modules your brain + Sars's would come up with. :)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 08:31 am (UTC)I also love Television Without Pity, but a lot less.
(Wordsworth, huh what?)
Re:
Date: 2002-11-18 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 09:11 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-11-18 10:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 10:24 am (UTC):)
Re:
Date: 2002-11-18 01:29 pm (UTC)Making me think about banana bread, shopping sprees and cavorting all on the same workday...you, you're NAUGHTY, that's what you are. Hmph!
no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 01:42 pm (UTC)or something...
;)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 09:28 am (UTC)Speaking of people in the street, hi! It was fun running into you. I'm surprised Heaven's Calyx and I don't run into you more often, given the times we hang around Davis Square like a pair of shinigami waiting to pounce on the mad scientist when he comes out of the lab. Well, Heaven's Calyx looks like a shinigami. I don't own a trenchcoat.
Other Rose
no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-18 11:21 am (UTC)Other Rose
o.o
Date: 2002-11-18 02:04 pm (UTC)Oh, I'm a friend of callunav's, in case you were wondering who this random person commenting in the LJ was. ;)
Re: o.o
Date: 2002-11-19 07:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-20 07:48 pm (UTC)