April 2010
2 posts
awkwardlyawesome:
Big girl plans may have fell through. At bar currently alone. Need people. Save me.
On my way!
March 2010
2 posts
February 2010
6 posts
“See what will happen if you don’t stop biting your fingernails?”
– Will Rogers, to his niece on seeing the Venus de Milo (via lickystickypickyme)
January 2010
254 posts
“Girls are emotional blackmailers. You girls are literally just emotional ninjas.”
– Mathew (via obliteratedheart)
3 tags
2 tags
“She’s so easy, a caveman could do her!”
– Dave (via elizabethaustin)
Watching SG-1 Behind the Scenes. Hee hee heee.
skepticalsmurf:
NEXT: SGA behind the scenes. duhhh.
omgaomgds fhafd.
how can love two casts so much? THEY ARE AWESOME. Michael Shanks and Richard Dean Anderson and Amanda Tapping, but then there’s Joe Flanigan (JOEEEE) and David Hewlett fadkhfda who I love beyond WORDS, and Rachel Luttrel and Jason Momoa and Torri Higgison!
Your SG obsession is awesome to me.
2 tags
1 tag
A meeting with my agent.
Premise: I was watching Cougar Town today and the episode used a phrase ("someday guy") that made me remember the following conversation in striking clarity. We rarely discuss business in person. And I love that. And this conversation is a great example of my agent's ability to put up with me. And I love that too.
Agent: Why are your main characters nearly always women?
Me: Because female characters are easy to write.
Agent: Sexist statement in 3, 2, *mimes 1*, *go!*
Me: *anchor voice* Tonight's top story: Men has a single goal in life. All men, one goal. Regardless of the subject, path, or results: one goal. *regular voice* This makes them boring to write. Women, on the other hand, have no singular goal. While men have worked on refining and enhancing their singular goal, women has gone about adding to their pool of goals to the point it's an ocean. Filled with droplets of unique hopes, dreams, and fears.
Agent: And that makes women interesting to write?
Me: God, no. But it allows me to be as creative as I want. If I had a main character with a penchant for brown shoes--but a distaste for other things of brown--who likes to fiddle on the piano despite poor skill after years of practice. WHO can't figure out how to set the VCR, but can quote all air times for their favorites shows--even syndicated--like they're psychic, and is a police detective. You wouldn't bat an eyelash if it's a woman. Say, when is Will & Grace playing next on TNT?
Agent: Shut up. *mentally answers the question*
Me: You take any of those traits and apply them to a male character and that guy becomes an instant pussy, loser, or creep.
Agent: Or gay.
Me: I don't know enough about gay men to write them that well.
Agent: You lived with a gay couple for most of this year.
Me: *shrugs* I've lived with women my entire life. And I am a man.
Agent: Hmm. The piano one is kind of endearing.
Me: Sure, sure. But it's an onion layer deep beneath the surface. That's not the outer shell of any man you'd want to date. Oh you THINK you would, because that implies all kinds of picturebook quirks and romanticism. What's that kid's name in Superbad, the pussy that's all the young girls cream themselves over?
Agent: Michael Cera.
Me: Too quick. But answer me this, Ms. Agent: would you have that boy's baby if he was 20 years older? Think about it for a moment. Do you see that guy, in all the movies he plays that same loser character, growing up into any kind of man you'd want to let in your bedroom? Stuttering like a fucktard when you come to him naked with "take me eyes." Do you think he has the balls--figuratively or literally--to ever ravage you sexually? Trust me, he isn't hiding his raw manliness in a deeper onion layer, that shit doesn't hide behind a veneer of wussy.
Agent: ....
Me: Exactly.
Agent: "Take me eyes?"
Me: Don't even. You are the kind of woman that practices that look in the mirror.
Agent: I don't!
Me: "That often." I've seen your office. It's littered with enough girly romance crap make a younger woman's head explode.
Agent: Well, I'm in the industry. That's all work-related stuff.
Me: Uh huh. That's like being in the dildo industry and saying you don't masturbate.
Agent: I... think I hate you a little right now.
Me: But you know you love me.
Agent: How do you figure?
Me: Well, let's do the math.
Agent: Yay! *I don't even know...*
Me: The first day we met, you broke a heel and almost fell down a flight of stairs while passing me. I caught you. With my little finger. Granted, I wasn't going for that trick, but the point stands: I was able to save you from harm with nothing but my pinky. Extrapolate upward. Possible Man score: 1.
Agent: I didn't really think about it.
Me: Liar. You specifically asked me if my little finger was okay. You babied that fucker, you spoke directly to it in a cooing voice.
Agent: *blushes*
Me: So then we get in the elevator and you realize I'm about to be your new client and I realize you aren't a secretary.
Agent: Hey!
Me: You were wearing a cardigan, a grey skirt, and stockings with the old-school seams! And you had your hair up in a bun. A bun, woman! Anyway, now you know, not only am I capable of protecting you if need be, but I'm intelligent and capable of thoughtful discourse should the occasion arise--at least on paper with 1-inch margins. Possible Man Score: 2.
Agent: Eeeh, I don't know about thoughtful.
Me: Bite me.
Agent: You do smell good.
Me: Actually, you do too.
Agent: Um.
Me: I didn't like what you used to wear. It gave me a headache. But this new stuff is nice. I like it.
Agent: Oh, uh... *clears throat* I'm glad you like it. *drinks water, stares that way*
Me: *in my head* I think the lady needs a moment.
Agent: Go on.
Me: So fast-forward two weeks. The publisher is practically throwing their panties at me over the novel and future ones. And the deal for Statusly comes through. Now I'm on the verge of a possible lifetime of financial security. On two fronts. Possible Man Score: 3.
Agent: What does the Man Score have to be for me?
Me: It only has to equal 1 or more for a relationship. 1.5 for love. Roughly.
Agent: That seems low.
Me: Love is easy to start. Difficult to maintain. I'm not implying you're an easy woman, except that you jump at most any chance for even a hint of love. Like most people.
Agent: I'll give you that.
Me: Considering you... You don't care about money so much, so the value of a man with money is less than 1, but you like the good stuff so 0.6. Same goes for intelligence, for you I'd say 0.75. And raw manliness about... 0.4. But after you reach 1, it's all gravy.
Agent: So you're a 1.75 out of 3 to me?
Me: I'd say 2.5 out of 3 since I meet all three of those category more than sufficiently in your case. That and I know you want me.
Agent: We agreed not to speak about that anymore.
Me: You agreed. I'm totally using it in a novel.
Agent: Absolutely not. I'll...
Me: Be flattered as hell. And do your job and sell it.
Agent: Sometimes I don't think you respect me.
Me: That's crazy. I haven't slept with you.
Agent: There's the sexist statement I've been waiting for since we started this conversation. And don't think I didn't notice you not saying 'yet!'
Me: Fine, you're a completely yettable sexual conquest in my life.
Agent: ...
Me: Stings a bit, doesn't it?
Agent: ....... So are those the only categories of my mate selection.
Me: No, of course not. That'd be guy-like. You like a man that can make you laugh, that's like a 1.25 in its own right. A guy who can fix things or figure out how to fix things, mmm, 0.35. I'm willing to bet you get a shiver every time a man asks for directions of any kind, because you're just old-school enough to be impressed by that relic humility, 0.45. And finally, you like it when a guy orders for you. But only if they get it right, implying they have in-depth knowledge of you, so 0.5 or -5. Otherwise, you go do coke in the bathroom right when the waitress comes to take our order.
Agent: ...
Me: Yup. Every time.
Agent: ...
Me: It's okay. But I think you're addicted to coke.
Agent: And...
Me: Chicken Penne Romano. With a side Caesar salad without croutons. And that red wine you're drinking, which you didn't seem to notice was white when you ordered it.
Agent: Holy shit.
Me: I know. I'm awesome.
Agent: You're my someday man. If you ever fire me...
Me: I love that in this fantasy, it starts with me firing you. Not you quitting.
Agent: Steven! I'm trying to be serious.
Me: I know. You want at the gooey Romantic Steven you know is hidden under the hard Asshole Steven. And unlike most other men, you have 300 pages of proof of my reliquaried gooeyness sitting on your desk. I'm a six-foot Toostie Pop to you.
Agent: ...
Me: 417.
Agent: ...
Me: That's how many--
Agent: I-I got it.
Me: What is a someday man?
Agent: If I ever quit--
Me: Or I fire you.
Agent: ...You could have me.
Me: Careful. The femi-popo might ticket you for self-subjugation. And besides, I could have you now, as you've said before.
Agent: You said as long as I'm your agent, that's not going to happen.
Me: I did.
Agent: And that it was the only reason.
Me: I knew I should have foreshadowed that statement.
Agent: Were you lying?
Me: No. No. *sigh* You're fucking fantastic. As both a woman and an agent. In equal measure. If you weren't, the decision either way would be simple. And the only reason I say 'fucking fantastic' is that just 'fantastic' seems cheap in today's world.
Agent: ...I think that's the sweetest things you've said to me yet.
Me: ...
Agent: That kind of silence is something a Michael Cera character would do.
Me: Jesus, Ally. Stab me in the dick, why don't you? It would hurt less.
koolkat:
So Legion isn’t men in black 3?
fuck that.
*regarding the trailer* Who tells their child of a doom prophecy in this day and age? I’m pretty sure that violates every rule of parenting. And it’s a slippery slope from there:
Child: Mother, why do I need to know how to jackload a 9mil? Mom: Because the world is about to end. Child: Why? Mom: Because Armageddon is going to...
