slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
I got my financial aid refund, finally. (It had been returned by the post office because, apparently, at some point over the summer, the college knocked the second digit off my apartment number in their computer system.) That went into the new bank account as well.

I now have over $1300 in savings and my paychecks going directly to the new checking account. If I can make the household expenses work without dipping into it, I'll have at least $2600 in the checking account by the time I'm ready to leave, unless Mom's house sells before I get my associate's and I move out early, in which case I'll have more money than that anyway, from the estate.

If Mom's house doesn't sell by then, I'll just transfer most of that money into the savings account where it can draw interest, since I'll be moving in with Dad and won't have to pay any major bills for a while. Need-based financial aid will cover most of my expenses while I'm working on my bachelor's.

Although what I will probably do in that case is close the account and open a new one at the credit union Dad uses, since it's not very practical to have to drive the two and a half or three hours down here if I ever need to do any business at the branch.

Meanwhile, I made a huge batch of chili the other day, and Nigel is now passive-aggressively asking me if I'm going to "blame" him when I finish eating it. I can't tell if he actually doesn't get that when I "blame" him for my not having any food, it's because he's eaten all my food, or if he's just fucking with me. Either way, he's a jackass.

Progress

Dec. 18th, 2011 03:21 am
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
Tonight at work I submitted the form to switch my direct deposit to my new bank account.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))

You don’t feel bad, but you don’t feel good, either.

He tells you that you are fine. He tells you to stop worrying. He tells you everything is great, anyone would be happy with what you have, he tells you he is the one with the problems.

He tells you what a bitch you are for adding to his problems with your pointless, petty complaining.

He asks you where his dinner is.

He asks you why is the house such a mess, why don’t you have a job, why don’t you cook more often, why don’t you do his laundry, why don’t you suck his dick, why don’t you wipe his ass. (Those last two are figurative and sarcastic and happen inside your own head.)

He asks you why are you cleaning when you could be job hunting, why are you job hunting when you could be cleaning, why are you wasting your time organizing your things, why are you cooking so much food when you know you’ll never eat it all before it goes bad, why are you wasting your time doing laundry when there are so many other things to be done first and is that load all your clothes and what do you need clean clothes for when you never go anywhere.

He asks you if you seriously think he has time for sex when he has to be up at four in the morning. If you seriously think he has the energy when he worked ten hours today. If you seriously think he should still find your body interesting when you walk around naked half the time anyway—he sees it so much, it’s gotten boring.

When he does feel like it, “I’m getting tired” is code for “your five minutes of foreplay are up; I’m going to roll onto my back—put the condom on my dick and hop on for a minute and a half and then I’ll fall asleep”. You hope your vibrator has full batteries.

You get a job. You like it; you’re good at it.

He asks you why don’t you quit and find a different job where you could have more hours. He asks you why don’t you temp full-time in a factory like him.

You decide to go back to school. He asks are you sure it’s not a waste of time and wouldn’t you rather just work more.

He says you need to make more money so he can pay his student loans.

You tell your friends some of the asshole things he does but you say “my ex-boyfriend” or “my friend’s roommate” or “this guy I used to date”.

You don’t feel good.

You tell him you think you should go to couple’s counseling and he asks you where the hell you think the money for that is going to come from.

It starts out as I made a promise and I’m gonna keep that promise for as long as I can. It starts out as maybe he will change, maybe he will try.

He eats more than twice as much as you do. He complains about his gut, but more often he complains about how fat you are and tells you you need to eat less and exercise more. He starts complaining about how much and what kind of food you put in the cart at the grocery store. He starts complaining about the grocery budget. You start eating only one or two meals a day because you don’t want to have the fight.

You need new clothes, so you buy some. He asks you why you think you need anything other than jeans and T-shirts and says you can’t afford to care what you look like.

He certainly doesn’t. He has a nasty, scraggly full beard and walks around in old, stained, holey clothes that don’t fit.

You feel like shit.

You stop asking him to change the big things that are problems in your marriage because you know he never will. You stop asking him to go to counseling because you know it’ll never happen.

You tell him about your plan to move to the UK for grad school and ask him isn’t he excited, hasn’t he been wanting to get out of this shit hole of a country, and he says it seems extreme, he doesn’t think he wants to go.

You tell him he doesn’t have to come with you. Suddenly it’s all about how he doesn’t think you can make it happen.

So it turns into, well, I can’t afford to leave. And this is what you tell your friends, and this is what you tell yourself, even though you know people who have left with less money than you have.

Even though in your heart you know what it really is is that he can’t afford for you to go.

Your mother dies.

When you tell him, he says what does that mean, and then he says are we getting any money.

Then he goes around telling his family and friends about it, calling her roadkill, saying he is going to get money from this thing with your mom and he is going to use it to pay off his debts.

When you start to come out of your grief a little, some things are clearer than they were before.

She would never have put up with this from anyone.

You shouldn’t either.

As you wander around the apartment you start to notice certain things.

Like: most of the furniture is yours. Including the bed.

Like: most of the cookware is yours. Including all the dishes.

Like: he put you in charge of the finances and say you were to take the little bit of insurance money you’re getting from the estate and put it in a brand new account with just one name on it, say you did that and you started having your paycheck direct-deposited there, he would never know the difference.

And one day your father calls and you say it out loud.

You say, what if when the money comes I tell him we’re not using it to pay off his student loans because I’m using it to leave him.

You tell your friends when they visit. You tell your sister when she calls.

When you get a dog you put all that paperwork in your name.

You think about leaving him here in this shitty apartment with almost no furniture, leaving him to sleep alone on the floor. You think long and hard about it and you don’t know if it makes you want to cheer or cry.

You think, I made a promise.

You think, he made a promise too. You think, he promised to love me forever and he doesn’t even like me.

You think, I am too young and hot to feel this old and ugly.

You don’t know how you will tell him. You wish it was just a button you could push on a computer: Are you sure you want to end this marriage? Okay

You think what it boils down to is this.

The two of you are crabs in a bucket. You are trying to climb out. He is on the bottom pulling you back in.

You are going to leave him here to wallow since that is so obviously what he wants.

It hurts to think about leaving him down here where he can’t reach the edge by himself. It makes you feel guilty.

But feeling guilty makes you feel angry, too.

You can see sky from here. Over the rim of the bucket, you can see a slice of sky.

You’re not going to let him stop you from climbing.

slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
I did win NaNoWriMo. The story itself is not quite finished. I am beating it into submission.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))


The cushion I built up in Week 2 saw my handily through the Week 3 slump. I am treading water at just about a day ahead of schedule and expect to finish sometime between Sunday and Tuesday.

I am really having a wonderful time writing this totally shameless Mary Sue. Allowing myself to write just for me, with the absolute guarantee that no one else ever has to see it, has been very freeing and a great stress reliever. I think I will do some more of these for some of the other characters I have crushes on over the next few years.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
Drink one glass of water for every drink you have.

Don’t go to bed until you can feel the end of your nose and your teeth.

Always have cab fare in your bra.

Always have somewhere you can crash.

Never marry anyone without knowing what they’re like in bed.

Never give up your dreams for anyone or anything.

Food tastes better when you eat it with real silver off of good china.

It’s even more important to wear nice underwear if nobody sees it but you.

Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
Have fucked up school this semester. Oh god it feels so good to tell someone.

It's going to put me a semester behind on my associate's but I can make a case to the college that they only need to count the classes I take after this semester toward my GPA because of my mom's death. I should have taken the semester off, I thought I could handle it but I couldn't. It will be okay, though. I can retake all of this and finish up what I need to finish up over the summer and/or fall.

For a variety of reasons, I have come to terms with the fact that Nigel is emotionally abusive to me. Also, it has now been so long since we had sex that if I had gotten pregnant the last time, and had carried to term, I would be the mother of a two-week-old infant right now. I will be leaving him as soon as I can financially manage it. This will probably happen in one of two ways:

1. My mom's house sells by the time I have my associate's. I get my inheritance money, set up my own bank account, portion it out to cover my living expenses for at least a year and get my own apartment. I transfer to Western and follow my previous plan as far as my bachelor's goes.

2. My mom's house doesn't sell by the time I have my associate's. I move in with my dad and commute to Central for my bachelor's.

I have stopped wearing my wedding ring. He hasn't noticed.

I intend to get back into the dating scene as soon as the divorce is final but not until then. I'm sure a lot of people consider it okay to date when merely separated, and I think that's fine, but I made a promise and I'm not going to break it until it's dissolved.

Work is going okay but I'm definitely going to have to quit by the time I transfer schools. It's just too much for me to be full-time at school and part-time at work.

Chromie is a good girl and learning a lot. When I have it together a little more I am going to join Dog Scouts of America with her.

Have decided not to go back to brown with my hair for a while yet, at least another half a decade.

I will probably do my master's somewhere in Michigan and then go to the UK for my doctorate. It's looking like my best option over there is University of Sheffield--they have a super badass archaeology department. I hope to be able to get my own flat rather than a flat or house share because I think living with a bunch of strangers and living in a foreign country for the first time should be steps I take separately. This may be something I can use some of my inheritance for, if it doesn't all get eaten up in the mortgage before the house sells.

I have lost a bunch of the birth control weight. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and was startled to realize that my hips are noticeably smaller. My boobs have stayed basically the same size. I am now in a 30G (US 30I) for most of the month and a 30GG (US 30J) when my hormones dictate. However, I am in a 12 in jeans now.

My toenails are almost completely recovered from their problems earlier in the year. By next summer I will feel comfortable wearing open-toe shoes again. My fingernails are strong and healthy and are all at or past the ends of my fingers, which is kind of blowing my mind.

Dad is coming down for Thanksgiving. I will figure out something to cook that's not ridiculously elaborate.

I am going to do faux suede for the Mirkwood archer costume after all, since I'm not getting money from my mom's estate until the house sells (which is the smart thing to do and I'm not complaining).

I still haven't found a new winter coat. Possibly by January, and definitely by next winter, I will fit back into my old one.

There is some hardcore cleaning necessary in this apartment but I won't be able to get to it until after Christmas.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))


If I say that my pointless and failtastic Mary Sue NaNo is related to my previous post, you guys have to promise neither to be totally disappointed in me nor to ask to read it (because no one must ever read it).
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))


Pretty sure I'm gonna win again this year.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
10430 / 50000
(20.86%)


Totally pointless Mary Sue this year. I'm not even comfortable admitting what character the Sue is interacting with. Word count's going fast, though. Having a ton of fun.
slythwolf: (Giggles)
Step 1: Secure place in MoP beta by signing up for WoW Annual Pass, since we all know I'm going to be subscribed for the next twelve months anyway: check.

Step 2: Reserve the names "Tophbeifong" on my Alliance server and "Irohmushi" on my Horde server for my future Pandaren monks: check.

Step 3: ???

Step 4: Profit!
slythwolf: (Giggles)
(What it says on the tin.)

1. How do you fit two pandas in the back of a Mini? Open the doors and take out the elephants. We need more character slots. All the altoholics I know were desperate for them in Cata anyway, but we really need them now. Thirteen races and eleven classes? We need more than ten slots per server. I've said before I don't really see why they can't just let us have fifty toons per account (as now) on any combination of servers we feel like--one toon each on fifty servers, fifty toons on one server. I'll concede maybe they could stagger the allowed slots by server population--Full = no more toons, High = ten slots, Medium = 25, Low = 50. Or something.

2. Fat bottomed girls, you make the panda world go 'round. Please, Blizzard, I'm begging you, don't do to the Pandaren what you did to the Worgen. We wanted hunched-over monstergirls, you gave us porn stars in fursuits and then you gave them rabid Chihuahua faces and stupid hair. That was a fail. If we get skinny Pandaren women with giant implants, I'm gonna be pissed. Make them a little shorter and smaller than the men, but make them round, make them fleshy, make them full-bodied, for the love of all unholy fuck make them fat. Pandas don't have a lot of sexual dimorphism. You can give them giant tits if you absolutely must, because the Rack of Doom comes standard on many fat women anyway. But please don't give them long slender legs and tiny waists.

3. Does it come in red? Can we have some red-panda-like color options? I get that the race is based on the giant panda, but it'd give them a bit more variety. This is not a must-have for me; I just think it would be cool.

4. I'll have the bamboo, bamboo, bamboo, bamboo, baked beans, bamboo, and bamboo. Lose the "Epicurean" racial. Pandas don't love all the foods that there are. They eat one thing. Period. I'm not saying make the player characters only eat bamboo, but the idea that they are just so into All The Foods is weird to me. These are not hobbits.

5. Caution: Potential Racefail Ahead It was annoying but not actually offensive when Blizzard gave the Worgen American voices doing bad British accents. If we get bad fake Asian accents for the Pandaren, that will not be at all cool. If they can't make it not sound stereotypical and faily, I and I would imagine most players who are not total assholes would much rather they just got generic American accents.

6. Is that my face? Is that my face? I'm gathering from the stuff I'm seeing from Blizzcon that they want to redo the models for the original races but they're afraid some people will like the old models better. I'm sure they're right. There are always people who hate any change they make, and there will always be someone somewhere who thinks something stupid is better than something awesome. I'm prepared to go out on a limb and say: fuck those people. Let me keep the basic look of my face and my green puffy pigtails, but fix my lopsided boobs. Also if my character could not make a face like a mutant clown on crack when she dances, that would be good too.

7. Love keeps her in the air when she oughtta fall down. I am hearing rumors that the vanity pet battle system will allow us to name our vanity pets. I have not seen any indication of this in the official stuff, but if it is true, I would like to plead that Blizzard let us name our vanity pets even if we don't intend to battle them. My firefly has been called Serenity in my head for a long time now. I'd love to put that out there for other players to see, especially since the vanity pets no longer despawn when I take a flight path or a portal or zone into a dungeon and I can't spam my Firefly quotes macro to summon her all the time.

8. We're gonna need another Timmy. I know there is a vocal group of Death Knight players who would like to be able to name the ghoul or just to keep the same ghoul with the same name all the time. I have heard no indication that Blizzard plans to implement this in MoP but I would just like to go on record as saying, please don't do it. The whole point of the ghoul is that I am raising random corpses to do my bidding each time the old one runs out of steam and falls apart. The ghoul is not my BFF. We are not partners in crime. We don't even have a contractual relationship like that of warlocks and their minions. I certainly do not love my ghouls and I don't give them names. They are animated corpses with a low level of intelligence just sufficient to help me kill my enemies. My character sees them as useful tools that die periodically, and you sigh and you go get a new one--like a vacuum cleaner. Oh, there are always people who will evangelize about their particular brand and model of vacuum, but frankly those people have too much time on their hands. Most of us buy a middle-of-the-road model and we use it for a purpose, to get a job done. We don't give it a name. We don't talk to it. (Maybe sometimes we swear at it.) When it breaks, we don't cry, we get it fixed or we go and get a new one. And the new one is pretty much like the old one. That's what the ghoul is like to a death knight. I really fucking hope they keep it that way.

YSPLZ

Oct. 24th, 2011 02:31 am
slythwolf: (Giggles)
When the Pandaren meet eachother on the field they are more of WHATS UP instead of being pissed at eachother. They would probably be drinking beer right after. All the sort of anger, hatred and other negative energies become the Sha. It literally can come and bite you in the butt. They dont want to bring all that bad bagage into a fight. When a Pandaren fights he fights to reach a conclusion. When things are settled you take a beer. (source)

I cannot wait for the RP aspect of this, even if it's just the imaginary RP server in my head. I can't wait to be Monkgiggles running into another Pandaren in Tol Barad (you know, or equivalent), losing the battle, and being like, "Yeah, you guys got us that time, didn't you? I know, I know, loser buys a round."
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
As I watch my fourth-ever attempt at handspinning, still on the day I learned, draft out into a damn-near-perfect cobweb-weight single, it hits me: if I were a shriia, I would definitely be in practical magic.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
A new winter coat, black, with good wool content and a hood.

New hair sticks.

New earrings.

A pair of jeans that fits properly.

Two or three winter dresses.

More black tops.

Two or three pairs of wool tights.

New winter gloves.

Muslin, suede, and silk for making my elf costume.

Yarn for at least three more dog sweaters.

A winter handbag.

A spring/fall jacket with a hood.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
Chromie is learning to sit and stay, will occasionally lie down or roll over on command, and has begun to realize that I am in charge of any and all walks, not she. She sits in her bed and waits when I put her food down until I say she can have it; she has learned to play tug with her squeaky fox rather than either A) refusing to take hold of something someone else has or B) waiting for an opening, stealing the toy quickly and taking it into her crate to attempt to eat it.

It's been at least a week since she's had an accident in the apartment, which means we're learning her signals and she's adapting to our schedule.

She is making slow progress on her leash manners. She will walk mostly calmly (occasionally attempting to chase a bug--I keep telling her, you can't chase 'em all, there's just not enough hours in the day) when there are no people or other dogs around, but she is very easily distracted when there are. We were behind the building today and the pissy little Min Pin bounded into its second-floor window and started a screaming match with her, but I was able to get her to calm down and behave well for the rest of the walk.

Unfortunately, the little kids who live in my building are afraid of her.

She has not and would not offer to hurt them, but they're really small and they see a strange dog trying to run up to them and they get afraid. She wants to play, but then they get scared and go and try to hide behind their van or the stairs or whatever, and friends, I realized today that we could have named her Reaver. If you run, she has to chase you; it's her way.

I'm glad they don't run up and try to pet and hug her, though. That would just reinforce her apparent belief that she is in charge of everyone and everything in the complex.

She got her first bath on Wednesday. She stood quiet for it and didn't try to escape even though she obviously didn't like it and knows how to get the bathroom door open from both sides.

She enjoys sitting on the couch with me and watching Buffy. Some dogs won't take any notice of the TV, and some will look around trying to figure out where that sound is coming from, but she actively watches. It's pretty cute.

Based on her behavior and some more research I've done, I think Chromie is actually a purebred Russell terrier, which is the variety of Jack Russell that is slightly shorter in comparison to its length. This is what's called a Jack Russell terrier in Australia and, enthusiasts claim, is actually closer to what the Rev. John Russell was breeding all those years ago, and there's some screwy stuff that happened with the standard and what-all and for a while any small mostly-white terrier was getting called a Jack Russell terrier or something, and anyway the name Jack Russell terrier was taken already in the UK and the US when these people got together and said, this is the real Jack Russell terrier.

Now the AKC calls the taller ones Parson Russell terriers and, as I understand it, the UKC calls the show type Parson Russells and the working type Jack Russells, and in the US and the UK the kind I have are Russell terriers.

It's possible I'm totally confused about all of this and most of what I've just said is wrong.

Anyway, we're pretty sure Chromie is a Russell terrier, but I just tell people she's a Jack Russell because that's what they understand. The trainer at Petco was like, "But she has a curly tail," which, the breed standard says no curly tails, but they dock them in the US, and apparently a lot of JRTs have the curly tail before docking; it's just a fault, your average pet quality purebred is going to have a lot of those.

Russell terriers are 10-12" high, and Chromie is about 11 1/2 or 12" high; they're supposed to weigh 1kg for every 5cm of height, so she should weigh somewhere between 12.85 and 13.5 pounds. Little Miss weighs 11.6, but her ribs are showing. She'll flesh out. She's already started to a little.

It is still possible, obviously, that she's not a pure Russell terrier. She could be just about anything, and we'll never know. But as she has grown more comfortable here, and as she has recovered from her spay, she has acted more and more Terrier, and she looks almost exactly like one of the bitches I saw on a breeder website. If you go to this page, scroll down a little, and look at the picture of the bitch lying down right next to where it says "'Lily' at Tunnel Quest", I had to do a double-take because I thought for a second they had a picture of my dog.

She's hilariously smart. I can see her learning a command in three or four tries, but then she makes this shift where she'll try to trick me into thinking she doesn't understand so she can get more treats out of me. Also, both Biskitt and Gixxer would be fooled when I would pretend to throw a toy but really drop it into my other hand behind my back; Chromie looks at me like I'm stupid. She's smart enough to figure out that I didn't really throw it, but she's a dog, so she's not quite figured out that I'm trying to trick her; she thinks I think I've thrown it. It's so cute.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))


This is Chromie Tiberius Rainbow Dash Fuzzsprocket III [Lastname], and she will have been with us for a week tomorrow morning. She is dreaming on my lap right now.

We think she's a mix of Jack Russell Terrier, Italian greyhound, and velcro. She prefers to spend most of her time asleep on our laps or cuddled up next to us on the couch. She gets pretty hyper when it's time to go outside, and doesn't have the greatest leash manners, but she tries really hard to let us know when she needs to potty (not her fault if we occasionally misunderstand), she goes into her crate like a champ, and it took her two tries today to learn to go outside the kitchen and find something else to do while I was cooking.

She is just the size that Biskitt was. I don't know how accurate it is but I get very strong sense memory when I see her little head and her paws.

I have taken to addressing her as furball, and then foo boo or foo boos as a cute-ification of that. I also occasionally call her Chrome Dome, Cro Magnon or Chromium Picolinate. At this point she answers more to my tone of voice than to the actual words.

She does some mouthing in play if she gets too excited. We are trying to sort of yip and take away our attention for a few seconds to make her understand that she shouldn't. It seems to be working okay so far. We do think she is still a puppy to some degree; the shelter listed her on Petfinder as about a year old but then when we went to visit they said she was two or three. Small dogs are often pretty puppy-like until they're three or four, though.

She is a little contortionist and likes to lie on her back in strange positions, which definitely says greyhound to me. She is also lightning fast; I can't tell if she does the double suspension gallop or not because I literally cannot follow her with my eye when she runs. She has got the deep chest and tucked belly, and I think her curled tail is possibly what happens when the hooked greyhound tail is carried upright like a Jack Russell's.

She has only just met us but she loves us.
slythwolf: Some unlucky soul has an incomplete Pai Sho set. ((default))
You spend most of a day going, "What? My mom? What? No." Periodically you think about the episode of Buffy where Joyce died and recall detachedly that you had suspected it was accurate but now you know.

Cops show up to notify you. You feel bad for them and for all the times they have had to be the ones to tell people, and thankful that you heard from family.

You think about the guy who was driving the truck that hit them. You think it's probably a good idea if no one ever tells you his name. Under the vague impression that he is eighteen, you wonder if your word would carry any weight in a court of law, if you were to say that you're angry but you don't think the rest of his life should be ruined over this. Knowing nothing else about him, you believe he deserves a second chance.

You wonder how the hell you're going to tell all the people she knew, because she knew everybody.

Thoughts like "but I'm not even 30" cross your mind, followed by "but she's not even 60".

You wonder how likely it is that this is all a dream.

You realize that when you wake up tomorrow you're probably not going to remember this has happened, and then you will remember and you will have to go through it again.

People tell you to remember to eat. You don't have trouble doing that, but you do feel vaguely nauseated.

You find your brain trying to come up with madcap schemes for going back in time and preventing it from happening and figure this is the atheist version of bargaining.

You think, "Maybe it was a wrong number. Maybe she was talking about someone else." You know it isn't true.

You wonder if anything is ever going to be normal ever again.

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