Arrant Nonsense

that I suck at writing romance.

Or, at least, that writing other kinds of scenes is much much much easier for me to do than all this relationship stuff. But it's done, go me. Now, if only I knew where to go next so I could crack 44K. I have less than a hundred words, surely I can do that...

FIC REC: Five Worse Things You've Caught Me Doing, Iron Man with references to Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Seriously, everyone should cross these two fandoms together ALL THE TIME.

And in other news, someone was wrong on the internet, and hopefully I set them straight. Yeah, someone on the IMDB Iron Man board postulated that Tony was a Gary Stu and wondered if he had any faults.

To which I basically replied, "Did you watch the movie?" in a classic Guy Fleegman moment.

Other than the rampant substance abuse, the giant ego, the self-absorption, the Peter Pan complex, and the irresponsibility? Not to mention that he's a risk-taker with the impulse control of a gerbil on crack?

No, no faults at all.

And then they asked for examples. Because, clearly, I didn't make the case. I suppose that a gratuitous assertion may be just as gratuitously denied. ( Well, it seemed pretty self-explanatory to me, but I bit. )

I managed nearly a thousand words yesterday. Which was a fine and shiny thing.

Of course, today I decided that I should actually look and see what an exit wound would look like if a 9mm pistol was fired at fairly close range into someone's chest. Because I takes my research seriously, I does.

It shouldn't be this hard to find autopsy photos on the interwebs, y'all. *grumbles* Oh well. Apparently exit wounds vary a lot, depending on what the bullet hits on its way in and on its way out, so I can wing it. I didn't make it ridiculously huge or anything.

In other news, NBC's Olympic coverage basically fails. Hey, execs? I'd really like to know what I'm watching. A little graphic to the effect of "Gold medal round, women's indoor volleyball" would be really handy. It's nice to know when we're watching heats and qualifying as opposed to medal rounds, yanno?

Also, MOAR FAIL on the part of someone at fanficrants. The idea that Tony Stark can't be gay in a frakkin' AU is hilarious. I especially like this thread. Because I've seen rumblings about this and I'd like some of the crack that Marvel was smoking when they came up with that storyline, thanks.

So, the fanficrants homeschooling wank hit Fandom_Wank, as it was bound to do--although I looked for it first in OTF_Wank, because it has little to do with fandom per se.

What's got me sporfling?

This comment: Agilebrit just being, like, "Oh, hey, yeah, I'm a fundie," made me go D:.

Is it some sort of secret that I'm a fundie? Did the fact that my first fanfic ever was Christian!Spike, and that I've written four stories in that 'verse (one of which was the longest I've ever written) not clue them in? Am I just not internets-famous enough? Was ginmar's calling me a "stupid Xtian housewife" in the oh-so-famous wank not a big enough clue? Do I need to scream it from the housetops in all caps on my profile page?

Is it just because I don't talk about it all that often? Because, seriously, I don't generally feel the need to.

And I will not wank. No, I won't. Not there, anyway. Eh. *grabs a tissue and cleans up* Seriously, I couldn't let that go.

However, all you have to do is look at the "quality" of fic at FFN to see the sort of "education" that public schools are churning out. Semi-literate snowflakes who bristle at the merest hint of criticism? Pretty much.

Yeah, not in my house. Da Boy already gets corrected if he doesn't capitalize "I" or the word at the start of a sentence, and he's seven. And I don't think I'm stunting his creativity.

If I wore a button that said "Proprietary Software" on my chest at the next Con, would anyone get it?

Hey, look! "Poisonous" vs "venomous" wank on fanficrants. That's awesome.

I'm also going to echo what many have said about The Open Source Boobs Project: NO TOUCHY. Seriously, folks, two people on the whole entire planet are permitted to touch my breasts. If you're not my husband or my gynecologist...you're not one of them. My boobs /= Open Source. CLOSED SOURCE. Closed and locked. No longer available.

I don't like being touched by strangers at the best of times--and, while I may be having the best of times at a Con, that good time will immediately cease for both me and anyone who thinks it's okay to grope my boobies. I will be scandalized, and the groper will have broken fingers and possibly broken testicles. I mean, even the Hubby and the gyno don't do that sort of thing in public.

GOOD TASTE. LEARN SOME. THEY'RE CALLED "PRIVATE PARTS" FOR A REASON.

*breathes*

Here, have some icons:


Not that I've ever been accused of having good taste.

In other news, I biked 10.6 miles and burned 500 calories in 53:54 tonight, which is a new personal best for me. *dies*

And now I'm just going to take my rageful hormones and their capslock upstairs to bed. I may rip my ovaries out with a rusty spork first.

The taxes have been beaten into submission.

My laundry is done and dry, although not put away. Five loads, two of which were bedsheets. Whee.

Gmail inbox is still empty. Which I suppose is better than a box full of rejections, so I guess I'll take it.

I still need to:

bike

vacuum

write...something

make dinner, unless I can talk the Hubby into taking us out. *considers, then starts laughing hysterically* Nevermind. Mmm. Casserole.

I've gotten to the point on the bike where I can do the whole 500 calories at once, so that's a plus. It "only" takes an hour now, rather than me having to break it up into blocs of time and resting in between so it takes twice as long. Yay.

In honor of the recent Deborah Anne MacGillivray kerfuffle, I made an icon:



And henceforth, I shall refer to people I used to call "batshit insane" as "bunny boilers." Because it's funny and I'm weird.

*eyes gmail inbox, which remains stubbornly empty*

I'll be doing a State of the Subs entry on Tuesday. It...hasn't actually changed that much. *eats worms*

I should be writing. Or editing photos. Or both, because I'm the Queen of Multitasking. Instead I'm reading Romance Writer Wank (again! What is it about romance writing that drives the authors batshit insane???), and thinking about the taxes. Also laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.

I'm wondering if I should send inquiries to a couple of these markets. It's been a really long time for a couple of them.

It's the wank that keeps on giving!

Remember that little dustup I had with ginmar two years ago?

People are still commenting on it.

I swear, I'm going to lock down comments on the damb thing...

Or possibly do another ETA that if people don't play nice (quit dropping f-bombs on my LJ, folks. I don't appreciate it), then they're going to get banninated. It's getting old. Picking a fight with her on my space, not cool, man. Pick a fight with her on your own space. She found that entry six months after I posted it; she'll find yours.

Jeepers.

LJ/6A has a response.

Oops.

Ya think??? Holy crap, what a screw-up of monumental proportions. It remains to be seen if this is too little, too late, but I suppose it's something. As a precaution, I backed up my LJ and wandered over to GJ to have a look.

Maybe LJ will take a lesson from this: Just because a person is "interested" in a certain topic does not mean they "support doing" that thing. Words mean things, folks.