Streaky the Supercat

A sort of moody Elvis with cutlery

Is There a Word for Dolphinphobia?
cr7 - hay girl hay
I just discovered that there's a hotel in Panama City Beach, Florida that offers a special service where a hotel employee (whoever lost a bet that day, one assumes) dressed as a dolphin comes to your room and tucks your child in at night. Cookies and milk, a souvenir photo, and a special gift included, all for a small fee!

The lifelong fear of dolphins, one assumes, comes gratis.

Hello From Alabama
cr7 - hay girl hay
We're fine. We have no damage whatsoever, and we just got power, internet, cell phone service, and regular phone service back. All at the same time, which we believe to be because teleute12 is magic.

I really believe that now.Collapse )

I Wish I Had a Facepalm Icon Right Now
Hector smash!
A week ago I went to the most magical store in Alabama, possibly the universe, Unclaimed Baggage, where all the stuff the airlines lose forever goes to be rehomed. I got, among other nonsense, a great suitcase and some new glasses frames. Except I paid like ten bucks for them, but then I had to have my lenses in them, and my lenses cost an arm and a leg because I'm so blind. I'm still kicking myself for not also buying the five skeins of cashmere yarn I found, and also there was a pair of brand new Manolo Blahniks that weren't my size but I could make them work, but they'd done due diligence on them and they were still $200 (marked down from, as the tag noted, a retail price of $700, but still). I did get a pair of Fendi sunglasses for fifteen bucks, though--even if they were way more after I had tinted prescription lenses put in.

There are also, like, racks and racks of digital cameras and iPods and Kindles. It's insane. Always check the seat pocket before leaving the airplane, oh my God.

Hot tip: if you ever have to fly with, say, your wedding dress, you might want to consider, like, buying a seat for it if you can afford it. Or else your dress might wind up for sale at Unclaimed Baggage instead of on you at your wedding; I saw at least half a dozen and found the thought kind of depressing.

Anyway, back to the glasses. I took them to get my prescription put in when I got home, and today they called me to come pick them up. I got home and was wearing my new glasses around happy as a lark when I got something on one of the lenses and took them off to clean them for the first time...which was also when I noticed the rhinestone detailing for the first time. I know, I'm a little slow. I was excited by the color and shape, what can I say?

Unfortunately, it was also when I noticed half of the rhinestones are missing for the first time. I don't know if they were missing at the store, because God knows what these things went through before they got there, or if they came out when they were putting the new lenses in (I plan to call my optician tomorrow, just in case there are some rhinestones on the floor over there), but I am so annoyed. Especially if they were missing when I bought the damn things and I didn't even notice and blithely went ahead and had crazy-expensive lenses put in.

Long story short: my new glasses? Already busted.

I'm now debating whether anyone else will notice, and, even if they won't, if it bugs me enough to make buying a replacement pair an option worth considering.

Possibly the Girliest Thing I've Ever Typed, And I'm Okay With That
happy bunny
Years ago, I saw a very striking photo of a sailor's wife waiting for his ship to come in at a naval base in Virginia--the photo was just her feet and ankles, in these hot pink pumps. It was a lovely, happy photo, and those shoes stuck with me. Periodically I would think, "I want a pair of shoes like that!" and scour the internet for such shoes, to no avail and great woe. Or I would find a pair that was perfect, but they were also two hundred and fifty dollars, and I would sob. I knew exactly what I wanted: patent leather, peep toe, HOT PINK, three inch heel ideal, four inches also acceptable.

A few days ago, I saw a pair of really cute turquoise pumps on Etsy (they'd been embellished in ways I didn't care for, but the base shoe? ADORABLE) and I thought, briefly, of contacting the seller to ask where she'd gotten the original shoes, but decided that would be tacky. But it got me thinking about shoes, and how a punchy pair of bright pumps is really missing from my wardrobe, and I renewed my quest for The Perfect Patent Leather Hot Pink Peep Toe Pump. I found a pair on Amazon that was almost. They weren't peep toe, and had in fact a rather pointier toe than I like, but they were cheap. But I couldn't commit to them. They weren't the right shoes.

This afternoon, I was out on an errand for my mom and I happened to walk past a shoe store. And there in the window were ~the shoes of my dreams~. And they were on sale. For less than is listed on the website, even. And it was the best shoe day ever.

*happy sigh*

...and Dolly Parton just came on shuffle. I think Dolly would approve.

EDIT: Also today, I got my hair cut--nothing special, just a trim job at the place in the mall. But in the next chair over from me was a boy getting a mohawk, which he then intended to dye blue. Why? Because he told a girl he was going to do it and she didn't believe him. My hairdresser, his hairdresser, and I kept shooting each other dubious looks, and then among his excited babble he let slip that he was still in high school, instead of a college student like I'd assumed. This was at about two o'clock, so he'd skipped school to get a blue mohawk and oh my God I am getting so old.

We Thrive On Confusion
cr7 - hay girl hay
Today, when my dad came up for dinner, he complained that our timing could be better, as he was missing the last five minutes of an old show called "Wagon Train." As dinner is ready when it's ready and if he doesn't like it he can learn to cook for himself, my mom and I proceeded to confuse the hell out of him:

Me: Oh, well, I know what happened, anyway.
Dad: You've watched that show?
Me: No, but I know what happened: their ox died.
Dad: They don't have oxen on this show, they just have horses.
Mom: And then they got cholera.
Me: No, it's dysentery. You have died of dysentery. Do they ever have to ford rivers on this show? Because we all know that never goes well.
Mom: You lose fifty pounds of food every damn time.
Me: And all your wagon axles.
Mom: Oh, that's right, I forgot about the axles.
Me: Your wagon just sank.
Mom: And your ox just died.
Dad: *gives us both the baffled look of a man who has never played Oregon Trail*

Snowed In: Day 6
cr7 - hay girl hay
The cabin fever is really starting to set in. My dad, the only one of us who's left the house for any length of time in a week, seems to be the most affected, strangely. Today he was in the kitchen while I was getting supper ready, and he started taking batteries out of one of those charger things. Batteries seem to have been charging an awful lot lately, so, in an attempt to make conversation (it was getting pretty awkward with him just standing around while I cooked) I asked if he was charging the batteries to some purpose. I guess I assumed he would say something about "in case of power outage" although, knock on wood, I think the danger of that is mostly past now.

He flung the batteries in the general direction of the garbage can, missed, then stomped over there and threw them in, while making a big production of apologizing for charging batteries he didn't need right away. Which was

We're out of eggs, we have two slices of bread, and enough coffee for one more pot. Send help. And coffee.

The temperature is supposed to go up into the forties tomorrow, so my mom and I have high hopes we can get out and do some shopping. Probably we could have today--the main roads are clear, or mostly clear--but my dad would have been insulted if we didn't want him to drive, and his driving can be scary even when there's not a possibility of ice patches (Oh, let's rocket down this twisty narrow country road at sixty miles an hour with the cruise control on, sure, sounds GREAT. That kind of scary.) We know he got my grandmother to the doctor and back safely the other day, but...well, he's already on edge, we didn't want to risk him flipping out about my mom wanting to drive or, if we just let him drive, someone saying, "Please slow down." It's just...sigh. Just sigh.

My mom says her mother always said that if snow stayed on the ground, it was getting ready for more to fall on top of it. I really hope that's not true. This is Alabama. We're supposed to broil, not freeze. I'm ready for the thaw.

Snowed In: Day 5
cr7 - hay girl hay
So in Alabama, we don't know how to deal with snow. We don't know how to deal with an inch of snow, never mind four to ten. Worse, the snow is melting partially during the day and freezing into ice at night, making it supertreacherous. Branches could take out the power lines or trees could take out the house at any time. It's exciting, in a scary kind of way.

Luckily, thus far, the electricity and internets have held out and the house is unsmushed. But we ain't going anywhere. Or, well. That's not entirely true. My dad braved the roads yesterday to take my grandmother to a doctor's appointment. And then she wouldn't let him go to the grocery store. She has sort of weird ideas about him and food--which, you have to understand, my dad is hugely overweight, but she always assumes he's going into the store to buy junk food and nonsense, when really, he had a list of things we were out of (potatoes, carrots, celery, onions, apples, cabbage, mushrooms, spaghetti sauce, barbecue sauce, canned cat food) or perilously close to out of (dry cat food, eggs, coffee), or that needed to be bought to keep the snowed-in peace (brownie mix, a jar of salsa to replace the one I bought for me that my mother cooked something with, because what am I to do with chips and no salsa, I ask you?).

We have about a day's worth of coffee left before the situation becomes critical, and today the outside world is much more icy and, "Yeah we're not risking it," than it was yesterday. We have enough food in this house that we could hold out for a month if we had to, but I don't think any of us would be terribly happy about it once the coffee runs out. And no one would be happy about it once the cat food ran out. Sigh.

cr7 - hay girl hay
I would like to join Twitter. It seems that all the cool kids already have, and while I do not pretend to be a cool kid, I would like to be able to keep up with what they're saying. There's just one problem.

I need a name.

See, I picked this name when I was thirteen (or, its predecessor, my yahoo! account; LJ did not exist when I was thirteen) and I've come to accept that I'm stuck with it, it's still very...thirteen. I don't really want it to be my Twitter name. But I'm stuck for alternate ideas. So I turn to you, dear flist.

Poll #1653601 Name That Twitter!

What should my Twitter name be?

On Skipping NaNo (For Good Reason)
cr7 - hay girl hay
So every year I try, unofficially, quietly, to do NaNo, and it never works out. This year, I will be skipping entirely, but for good reason. A couple of days into October (I don't remember the exact day, but it may have been the third or fourth), I started writing a novel. At about four o'clock this morning, after trying and failing to sleep and getting up to write again, I finished the first draft. It's still a little on the short side, but it's still the longest thing I've ever written, by far, certainly the longest thing I've ever completed, and now I'm just sort of looking at it like, "So...what do I do now?" Wringing another one out in another month would probably kill me. As it is, I'm left so completely brainspent I can't even process my RP obligations, and have forgotten to make posts for two days running.

But, yeah. I wrote a novel. Go me. *collapses*

An Unorthodox Definition
old school otp
From Bones: As far as I can tell, marriage is having someone who will slap your enemies and then toss their dead bodies out of airplanes.

This is totally my new test of OTP. Would they?

Would your favorite couple?


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