Oct. 26th, 2011 09:14 pm
littlemousling: Street sign from Toronto's gay village (Church and Wellesley)
So I have never had a car before, nor did I grow up in this province, and those two things combined to mean that I completely failed to update my registration when it expired on my birthday.

I was pulled over for that ... and then I didn't have my most recent proof of insurance in the car.

Obviously I'll be getting the registration and my proof of insurance and going to traffic court with them, but I still feel like an absolute idiot.

The good news is, I have a burrito, rum, and ice cream. The better news is, the woman I went on a lovely second date with on Monday called just as I was coming in the door, and we had a fun, funny 20-minute conversation which went a long way towards improving my mood. I really very much like this woman, I must say.

So! If you have some fluffy bandom you would like to rec, I would love to read it. Old stuff is especially appreciated; other than the very very well-known fics, I haven't read much that wasn't produced this (calendar) year.

Oh, ffs

Oct. 7th, 2011 03:08 pm
littlemousling: Photo of rainbow-organized bookshelf with text reading, "Confirmed book addict." (books)
Because I keep seeing this, and it keeps pissing me off, here's what Maurice Sendak said about ebooks in a recent Guardian interview:

"I hate them. It's like making believe there's another kind of sex. There isn't another kind of sex. There isn't another kind of book! A book is a book is a book.

1. There isn't another kind of sex?
So ... what defines this singular kind of sex, then? Here's a guess: [redacted because [personal profile] sara pointed out in the comments that Sendak is openly gay--awesome, did not know that!]

Now that [personal profile] sara's pointed it out, however, I am about a thousand times more curious about what the actual fuck he thinks the "one kind of sex" is. Penetration? Two people having orgasms? Kissing and genital contact? No matter what, I'm still going with "uh, no, dude. Way more than one."

2. If there isn't another kind of book ... then ebooks are the same as paper books.
Logic fail much, dude? If there's only one kind of book, then ta-da, ebooks are that kind of book. Guess that was easy.

3. So what does he think about audiobooks? Books printed in Braille? Graphic novels?
Even leaving aside the enormous accessibility advantages ebooks can provide (ereader font size can be dialed up to "enormous"; the average ereader is much lighter than a hardcover and many are lighter than the average mmpb; they can be easily operated one-handed; etc), there have been lots of kinds of books for a very long time. His own most famous work isn't what most of us think of when we think about paper books: it's an oversized format, and notable for its images as much as for its words. So why exactly is he throwing stones, here?

4. Seriously, though, about that sex thing.
Just--no. No. No. No. No. No. As a dyke and a BDSM enthusiast and just as a person who likes experimenting with sex or even knowing that other people experiment with sex--there are unlimited kinds of sex, actually. Sorry about your life, Sendak, if you've only ever experienced one.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Because I can't stop staring at this, and I think you should stare for a while, too:

These socks were knit by an online acquaintance of mine, out of her handspun yarn.

And now I'm going to talk about how awesome they are in the form of a rant about the ways people talk about handspinning, because apparently this is what looking at beautiful handspun makes me think about. )

So, anyway. I don't have much of a solution, except: we need to see photos like this, and we need to stop diminishing ourselves by suggesting that this is not achievable, or that it's not normal, or that it's not what handspun "is."
littlemousling: Photo of apples with flowers behind them (food)
So my kid sister has a cool work event tomorrow, and for that event she's baking delicious things at my apartment. Only I don't so much have baking things (of any kind), so we went to Gristedes.

And then this happened.

Cut for fat shaming and general WTF-ery )
littlemousling: Text that reads, "The bicycle, ... only moving does it have a soul." (bike)
So this morning was what you might call a clusterfuck.

So. I have been in this long-distance relationship since July. And among other things, it has brought me a more-than-passing acquaintance with 4:30 alarms and 6:30 flights--yes, those are a.m.

This morning's was my last such absurdly scheduled flight (I'll actually be in the same city as [personal profile] mistresscurvy all summer, \o/).

Let me start by saying I did make it onto the plane. )
Now we get to the crying in the airport part )

So … yeah, idk. Suck on that, cab driver I deeply resent! I made it despite all of your efforts! Or something. Whatever, there is no lesson, I made it, yay.

(Actually, possibly the lesson is, crying is a very effective form of manipulation in certain circumstances? Wow, that sounds bad. It was a purely unanticipated and undesired method for me. Given my druthers, I would have gone with "asking nicely." My tear ducts just had other plans.)
littlemousling: Photo of Kalinda, character from The Good Wife, in front of books of statutes (law)
Many things in my Bar materials flummox me (I'm reading the Business law section, so that's 250 pages of one part flummox, three parts RAGE over all the ways rich people are legally screwing Canadian society).

But this:
"LIBOR--this is the London Interbank Offered Rate, which is a rate of interest for U.S. dollars in the London Interbank Eurocurrency Market calculated on the basis of a 360-day year."

Calculated on the basis of a 360-day year. So, calculated on the basis of NONREALITY.


If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go set up a currency market that calculates the rate of interest for the Canadian dollar on the basis of its liquidity on Mars.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
OK, whoa! I just alienated a couple of coworkers so fast it made my head spin.

I suppose that maybe, possibly, I could've predicted it, but it happened so fast! We were all talking about what they did before they worked here, that kind of thing, and one asked me if this had helped me prep for law school at all. I said yes, it helped me settle on really wanting to go into Immigration law.

Suddenly everyone at the table was ice-cold.

Now, even if they were Pat Buchanan-ites (I don't think so), the kind of Immigration work they do here is bringing in REALLY skilled workers, researchers, and special cases (musicians and the like). People who, in many cases, literally have skills no American has. They're the cream of the crop, and there are very, very few of them, compared to, say, people who marry into green-card status.

I tried to explain that - no dice. Even when I explained about the credentials you need for an "Outstanding Worker" visa (basically: you have to be outstanding), they were still talking about people coming in and taking jobs at lower wages.

littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Useless Snapple fact:

"Swimming pools in the US contain enough water to cover San Francisco."

OK, I'll bite. Cover it to what depth? Just above the surface? High enough to cover the highest building? What's "San Francisco" - the city limits? The city and suburbs? The whole metropolitan area? How do the hils play into it?

Seriously. What a useless, useless "fact."
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
It's day 110 of my time in Rome and I leave in half an hour.

Number of lines I stood in at Fiumicino airport today: 7 (and one for the train to the plane)
Number of cancellations, gate changes, flight changes, delays etc: 5 (one was my fault)
Approximate hours spent in lines: 2 (maybe 3)
Time difference between planned flight and actual: 1 hour
Time difference between earliest flight I was booked on and actual: 3 hours
Time already spent in transit by the time I was on a plane: 4.5 hours
Chances I'll miss my connection and end up standing in many, many more lines at De Gaulle: 1 in 1

G'bye, Rome. When a 4am wake-up is the best part of the day, it's been a terrible, awful, horrible, no-good day.

(This was posted three days later, thanks to Internet availability)
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Well, damn.

Thanks to my stupidity (well ... ignorance, anyway), my computer has deleted (actually, just hidden, I think - but very well) about 800 photos, a handful of files, and my Rome journal.

Which, you know, sucks.

I'm pretty sure they're retrievable but I have not those skills (although I had a dream that Asheesh, the default computer guy next to my brother Marke, fixed it). I'll probably have to wait until I get back to the states, though I'm going to try calling the help line a few more times to see if I can reach someone who knows how.

Guess y'all won't be seeing my photos of yesterday's three-hour walk through the Vatican Museums anytime soon.

Molly's Very Important Tip of the Day: Do not, repeat, DO NOT attempt to rename your computer, no matter how adorable it would be to have a laptop named after a brilliant Roman writer.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
It seems to me the world would be a better place if people who didn't know how to do certain things (like how to drive, have children, or punctuate correctly) didn't just go for it without any help.

In the following example, we see someone who clearly has not wrapped her mind around the use of paratheses:
"when the clerk asked again, she had to answer her (non ringing phone)."

Perhaps she meant "her (non-ringing) phone"? Because I doubt this woman "had to answer her," that is, the clerk. In fact, she was studiously avoiding the clerk, but one could hardly tell based on this (badly punctuated) story.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Gee, that jackhammer noise outside the window sure is ... fun.

In other news, I had an X-Files dream last night, wherein I found a funny little box in my desk drawer (in the room I was sharing with the creepy girl I keep running into EVERYWHERE who never smiles back) which had a recording of Mulder and Scully singing a duet.

Was suddenly struck with desperate need to watch X-Files, but alas I do not own any. Plus, the need faded. And then I had a weird anxiety dream about going to Rome, and then I woke up. Slept terribly! Blame the cold. It's 65 in here just now, and my vents are still cold. Suppose I have to call maintenance, damn.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Stupid damned ... thing.

The student-study-visa thing needs a "passport photo." Oh, yeah, and it's due in a week.

These people KNOW I'm at school. Where the fuck do they think I'm going to get a passport photo?

Argh argh argh argh.

Actually, I'm less mad than I am TOTALLY stressed about not having a perfect visa app. that gets accepted immediately, y'know?

Also, every bloody thing the classical station has played in the last 48 hours sounds like "Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack rewritten for orchestra and chorus." And that's not exactly a movie I love.
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)

Calculator has disappeared from my computer. Completely. I swear it's true; how could I make this up?

At the moment I'm making due with Google Calc, but eek! I need my good ol' Microsoft calculator back, dammit.

littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
People who own alarms that don't automatically go off if the owner doesn't wake up should be SHOT.

If it wasn't a Sunday morning during vacation week, I'd have had the HA break in and shut it off. This thing has been going off for TWO HOURS. It's three rooms away and still BEEP-BEEP-BEEPing its way into my ears.

If I'm committed, you'll know why.

EDIT: And, of course, my HA's still on break, and not around to break in. AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Roberts. Fuck.

OTOH, NJ raised its minimum wage to $6.15 ($7.15 this time next year).

Still, it might be best if those of us north of the Mason-Dixon line secede, and take California with us. Canada will take us in. And hey, when we're Canadian, NJ beaches will be considered tropical. ;)
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
One of the fish forums I frequent is affiliated with a "religion and politics" debate forum. Mostly it's good fun (most of the people I agree with, and all of the great thinkers/researchers, but enough on every "other side" to stir the pot) but sometimes someone just makes me want to SCREAM.

Explain to me how someone can actually think, in this day and age, that:
I have a hard time beleiving that love can really exist in [gay relationships]. You obviously disagree with me. These differences could be from how we are raised. It could be due to life experiences. I really don't know, but you have to understand that in my mind homosexual desire can not equal love, and so is nothing more than uncontrolled indulgence in something that is immoral.

littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)
Memo to people who draw science diagrams:

You don't need to put every function of the cell, or whatever you're drawing, in one diagram. Really. I for one will happily pay the extra two cents it costs to print two diagrams, if it means I don't have to listen to twenty minutes of questions. And so the professor doesn't have to answer them.

Would it really be that difficult to separate the "cell bodies creates all the crap that's stored in the terminal buttons and sends it down" diagram from the "Some of that crap does stuff when you step on a spike" diagram? The way you did it, oh silly diagram-drawer, made it look as though every time you step on a spike, the cell body has to create lots of crap and send it down, which seems a bit too slow to be useful.

So next time, save us all a lot of frustration and just draw what you mean. Or else we may have to legislate: one verb per diagram!
littlemousling: Yarn with a Canadian dime for scale (Default)

Leave London the hell alone, already!

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