A Safe Space for Moogles

You ever write one of those scenes, step back, and realize that you needed to write it out, but it's not going to make it into the fic proper? It's like, okay, now I know what happens and how it all fits together, but I'm still a little frustrated that I put in the time and it's not going to go into my total wordcount. *grumbles and puts my Mythbuster muses away for the night*

How to prevent rape! No, for real this time.

Reason number 20394 why I love the President.

Also, I rode my bike up a Big Hill today! I was tempted to give up halfway through, but I made it all the way to the top! And then my thighs exploded and I died.

The bad news: coming back from another fun-filled day of whoring myself out to the corporate world, I discovered I had a flat tire.
The good news: when I discovered it, I was in a Goodyear parking lot. ^_^ So, it's fixed now, but it may be a good idea to get new tires soon just in case. *worried look*

ANYWAY: Flist, advise me. There's a part-time job opening as an Animal Caretaker at a local animal shelter. The catch? It's on weekday evenings, which means I wouldn't get to see my People then. Guys, I am enough of a hermit. Besides, evening is my writing time.

But... it'd get me some monies, and it's better than retail by several orders of magnitude, and it'd make Mom less likely to get on my case. So do I go for it, or hope like hell I get some hits before my birthday and Mom pushes me into retail?


LASTLY: I found something awesome. I Am Emily X: the blog of a woman who volunteers as security for Planned Parenthood. And there's a fundraiser going on right now that raises money according to the number of protesters she encounters! :D

Moogledragon is huffing smoke from her cave again. This is why. Yep, the 'conscientious objector pharmacist' law is officially proposed. Forgive the turn of phrase, but why wasn't this killed in utero?

It's on a 'thirty day public comment period,' which in this administration pretty much means 'go ahead and get all your bitching out of the way now, 'cause we're passin' this puppy.' Which isn't to say I'm not going to speak up about it, oh no. Moogle is mad as hell and she's not gonna take it anymore.

*growls, paces, flexes claws, sets a few things on fire*

In other news, behold my first oekaki in a long, long time. It's pretty bad, but it's still porn, so up it goes. (Not bad porn, just two mechs kissing while a third watches approvingly. Well, I assume so. It's hard to tell with him.)

According to this site, if I want to get a UK work visa, I need to find an employer willing to import me. Which it looks like most wouldn't be willing unless you're a nurse or an IT person. Possibly my best bet is to hang out in America a while longer. That way I can get a bachelor's degree (ugh, more school!) and build up my savings account and apply for the Highly Skilled Migrant Programme. ...Or I could sucker some poor Brit into marrying me. Because I'm such a femme fatale and all. 6_6

Notice this doesn't really solve my most pressing problem, i.e. Where The Hell Am I Gonna Go After I Graduate.

OH OH ALSO. Nigella Lawson + being called fat = WHAT. (Yes, it's another skinniness-in-the-media rant. Deal with it. While you're at it go read the comments, there's some really good ones.)

First, that woman is gorgeous. Look at her, seriously. Second - she's a professional chef. Since when is it her job to be a beanpole? What kind of message would that send?

I've been getting really irate about this issue lately.

EDIT: I've squished three bugs in the past two weeks that look like this. No wonder I've been so itchy lately. ...Oh, shit.

I kind of adore Jennifer Love Hewitt now. And I don't even watch any of her work. XD It's just nice to see someone who hasn't let The Industry brainwash her into being completely neurotic about her body.

On the Christmas front, I'm starting to unload the vanguard of my Winter Holiday Of Choice presents, trucking along on my auntie's scarf after several false starts, and getting sick of hearing Christmas music. Which probably surprises none of you, but it's actually a new thing for me. I must be finally nearing the end of my rope after twenty-three years. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of Christmas music - Barenaked Ladies, KT Tunstall, Elvis, the Charlie Brown Christmas score, anything involving a Muppet. I'd be thrilled if I heard something like that on the radio. What do I get instead? Elevator music with a side of baby Jesus. I'm worried I'll start throwing things. Like poisonous animals. "It's the most wonderful tiiiime, of the yeeeaaar! With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good CH'AAAAAARBOK!"

Ahem. Next post: things I like about the season. Featuring snow, if the meteorologists aren't talking out their asses.

...maybe I should go to bed.