trinityofone

So, my dad just got back from Nicaragua. (For the record, I kind of wish I could start every story like that.) He was down there shooting footage for a documentary aboard a Naval vessel (or so he claims. With his mild-mannered personality and the amount of wacky travel he does, it wouldn't surprise me if he were actually an International Man of Mystery), and as a present he brought me back...an MRE!

Obviously, for the sake of dorky fannish research science, I had to consume said MRE so I could report back on exactly what they contain and whether or not Rodney was right that they're actually pretty yummy. bmouse was kind enough to join me for this experiment, and to provide a second opinion—I am not necessarily to be trusted as, like Rodney, I also like airline food. So join us as we get as close as we can to the SGA field team experience...and take lots of ridiculous photos and generally behave like dorks. Woo!


( What lurks behind this humble exterior? Find out! )

Two other things, while I am being dorky:

1. Much to my delight, ( this was parked on my street the other day )

2. My dad also smuggled back from Nicaragua a pair of Cuban cigars. He and my brother and I smoked them last night, and it was one of the most pathetic things I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing/witnessing. All three of us couldn't stop hacking and coughing and having to stop and lean over and spit in the grass. OMG WE FAIL. Alternately, smoking cigars only makes you look cool if you are Barney Stinson/Robin Scherbatsky/my grandfather. It doesn't work for us mere mortals.

But MREs pretty much rule.

Feeling irrationally pissed at my parents because they bought the whole family tickets to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull without consulting me, even though 1) I've already seen it and 2) I didn't like it.

General flist opinion seems to be pretty positive. Please tell me I'm not the only one who was like, "Oh, Steven. NO."

I usually don't get anything to eat at the movies because it's both expensive and bad for you, but I hope my parents know that they're totally gonna have to fork out for the good caramel popcorn today. Just sayin'.

First of all, I would just like to say thank you for the incredible response there's been to Revelations. Not just all the comments (although five Edit: OMG six pages of comments?! That's incredible, and I'm incredibly flattered), but the fact that people took it the right way and got that I was trying for something...I don't want to say deeper, but more emotionally complex than just kinky smut. Not that there's anything wrong with kinky smut--bring on the kinky smut, I say!--but that's not what this turned out to be, and it's just really cool that that resonated with people.

Also, in case you missed it, since I first posted the fic, slodwick has made haunting cover art, and not_sally wrote a terrific, full-fledged piece of backstory: Prior Enlightenment. Go look/read and tell them how awesome they are! (Them personally or the story/art--or better yet, both!)

Also in the category of things that blow me away: the quality of the responses to my Why We Slash questions. I was already aware of the quantity of the responses (which is also: wow) but damn, you guys have a lot of fascinating, insightful, and downright clever things to say. I'm only about 1/3 of the way through going through everything in super fine-tooth-comb detail and pulling my favorite quotes--a highlights reel of sorts. And so far, every single person who's responded has said something that's made it onto my supposed short list. Every. Single. One. Unfortunately, my essay's only supposed to be 2,000 words, and the word count I just did on my pulled quotes document? 4,943. Um, oops? There's no way I'm going to be able to do this topic justice.

I was going to say, "Speaking of justice..." but this next item of news doesn't seem particularly just to me, except in the context of "just weird." While I was making dinner (mmm, fan oven lasagne!) I got a call from my parents, and apparently, the Berkeley Department of English has awarded me a $1,000 scholarship for the 2005-2006 year. For academic excellence among English majors or something. Which is very flattering, yes--but did I mention, also, weird? Because not only did I not apply for any scholarships, meaning that someone else would have to have nominated me, the English Department doesn't seem to be aware that I'm, um, not at Berkeley. I mean, I'm still technically enrolled at Berkeley, and I will be graduating from Berkeley, but I'm never going to attend another class there again. It's the rest of the year at Trinity and then that's it. So, since the money's been deposited directly into my CARS account (weird Berkeley bureaucratic whatsit), I'm not sure if I'm ever going to be able to get at it. I hope so, though, because if I do, my Mom says I can have it for myself, can use it to tour Europe a little. (Trip to visit monanotlisa--yes!) At least the 'rents are proud.

Speaking of parental pride, part of the conversation tonight almost made me swallow my tongue:

Mom: ...and when you're done with your essays, I really hope you'll spend more time writing to your family, and less time writing slash.
Me: *chokes on the air in her mouth*
Mom: Oh, don't think I don't know you do that.
Me: *various inarticulate noises of the 'what? how? what?' variety* Have you been reading my journal?
Mom: What? No. But I'm your mother, I listen to you, and I know things.
Me: Oh my God, please don't tell Dad, he'd freak.
Mom: I don't see why there's any reason he should know.
Me: *silent prayer of thanks* *deep breath* You know the funny thing is, before you called, I was doing research for a paper on slash. That's one of my two essays.
Mom: Ooh, can I read it?

So yeah, my Mom's pretty cool. But sheesh, how many more people am I going to be outed to this week? ...Well, suitemate!Aidan, apparently, because when I went to make tea, he was in the kitchen, and he complained that he has nothing to do tomorrow ("I was going to go to Kerry and get a trumpet, but then this guy I know in Kerry, he calls me and says, 'I'm coming up to Dublin, I'll bring you the bloody trumpet! So now I don't have to take the train to Kerry tomorrow"), and I responded with the standard, "You wanna write my paper for me?" And he said, "Sure, what's it about?" And okay, I could have lied. But instead I sort of smiled and said, "Boyporn," and then explained it to him. He was very cute about it. Cute and flustered. Mostly cute. ;-)

So yeah, apparently academia actually is liberating. *eg*

Finally, two things that amused/distracted me today:

1) darling_effect linked to A Christmas Story, as Enacted in 30 Seconds, by Bunnies. A Christmas Story is my favorite holiday movie ever (yes, above even It's a Wonderful Life and (the original! not colorized!) A Miracle on 34th Street), and dude--bunnies. It's even better than the 30 Second Shining.

2) Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest Trailer--which, shockingly, I haven't seen every single person on my flist link to yet. Hmm. Maybe I am just looking in the wrong places?

Finally a real update! Though, since I'm already deep in my studies (trying to understand what the heck Chaucer is on about in "A Parliament of Foules"--fun!), rather than going into great detail about my myriad adventures, I'm going to start you off with some pictures from my three days in London. Enjoy!


( Here's London! )

That's all for now, folks! More updates to come...and maybe I'll even get around to talking about Dublin, hmm?

Yesterday...

The Skeleton Key with Mom & Aunt

--We are the only ones in the theater, which means we can talk all the way through. Most of our comments revolve around the fact that Kate Hudson's character is a FRICKIN' MORON.

Mom: Um, if there's a creepy rattling door in a creepy attic, DON'T OPEN IT.
Aunt: Have none of these characters ever seen a movie before?
Me: Unless everyone in this film has spent their entire life living in a box, this level of stupidity is not only ridiculous, it's anachronistic. A lack of meta is now an ANACHRONISM.

--Kate Hudson applies for a job at a creepy house in the middle of a swamp where everyone and everything is CREEPY.

Me: There is absolutely no reason to take this job.
Mom: None whatsoever.
Aunt: None.
Peter Sarsgaard: Hi. I work here.
All: Never mind.

--Then, half an hour before the end, I guess the "plot twist." We go get sushi.

While we're waiting, I express a preference for pajamas.

Aunt: Once you're having sex regularly, you'll change your mind. You'll never want to wear pajamas again.

Which makes for a nice transition into today...

The 40-Year-Old Virgin with Mom & Dad

--Seeing a raunchy sex comedy with your parents is not at all uncomfortable.

Then, Steve Carell goes to get his chest waxed.

Mom: That may hurt, but it doesn't hurt as much as a Brazilian.
Me: Er, I bet.
Mom: You know, a Brazilian wax.
Me: Yeah.
Mom: (Stage whispers) I've had one!
Me: Okay! Thank you for that.

So...officially one month and eight days until I get to move out. ::smiles weakly::

darcydodo recently said: "I've never seen your family in insane-mode. But wow, apparently they can go there!" You better believe it! A conversation from last night:

trinityofone's family is peacefully eating dinner at her favorite Greek restaurant, The Great Greek. Suddenly, her mom cracks up.
Everyone Else: What? What's so funny?
Mom: Oh, I just remembered something.
EE: What?
Mom: (giggling) Allez vous foutre chez les Grecs.
EE: Huh?
Mom: It means (giggle) 'Go get fucked at the Greeks.'
EE: Ah.
Mom: But it really means, go get fucked up the...
She mouths the word 'ass.' Dad starts looking distinctly uncomfortable.
Mom: But you know, I've never really gotten that, you know? Homosexuality.
trinityofone: What?
Mom: Homosexuality. I don't get it.
trinityofone: How can you not get it?
Mom: It just, you know...
Dad gets up to use the bathroom.
Mom: Okay, now I can talk freely. It just seems painful.
Brother: Aaah! I'm not listening!
trinityofone: Painful?
Mom: Yes. The act itself.
Brother: Not listening not listening not listening!
trinityofone: Ahh.

Now at this point, I should have just let it go. Now was not the time to say, "Well, actually Mom, according to a lot of what I read on the internet..." But could I let it go? No. No, of course not.

trinityofone: You know, there are things.
Mom: Things?
trinityofone: Things. To make it, you know, pleasurable.
Mom: (for the benefit of the entire restaurant) You mean LUBRICANTS?
trinityofone: Yes, but also, you know, the...prostate.
Brother: Shut up shut up shut up!
Mom: OUCH! ...And how do you know all this, anyway?
trinityofone: Er. Well, I have gay friends and we, uh, talk...
Mom: I have gay friends, too, and we certainly didn't talk about anything like that.
trinityofone: Well, uh, it's kind of a new era now, you know.

It is indeed. Luckily, my dad could only spend so long in the bathroom, and I managed to escape. But the lesson here is: if your mom says something weird to you in French, don't ask her to translate. Or maybe it's "Don't say the word 'prostate' at the dinner table." I'm not sure.