My name is Mooncalf, I'm a thirty-year-old fangirl from Ohio, and this is my weblog. Right now you're either somewhere in the archives or reading comments or something like that. To return to the main page, click here.

Saturday, August 24, 2002

Alfadorean Physics: The Laws Of The Universe As Dictated By Five Pounds Of Black Kitten

1. A kitten's preferred state is to occupy every single square inch of surface space in his territory simultaneously. When this cannot be achieved, it is mimicked by the use of high velocity and a lot of little scrabbling noises.

2. Similarly, it is not possible to know simultaneously where the kitten is and how fast the kitten is moving.

3. It is not, technically, possible to tell a kitten anything. This is axiomatic.

4. A kitten in motion tends to remain in motion, at least until fed or picked up. A kitten at rest is only teasing.

5. As with electrons, kittens tend to orbit a nucleus containing their food bowl and whatever it is they're not supposed to touch.

6. When a kitten and an older cat are forced by their orbits to collide, the process is called fusion or, more colloquially, YOU TWO STOP THAT FIGHTING RIGHT NOW!.

7. The addition of water to kitten/cat fusion causes fission.

8. Like water, kittens seek their own level. Generally, they choose couch or bed level, although kitchen counter level will do.

9. As long as the kitten is safely ensconced in its carrier and not screaming, one really does not care whether it is alive or dead or in some indeterminate state.

10. Occasionally, after separating the kitten's claws from the older cat, one will look at the kitten and wonder if adding a second cat to the household was truly such a smart idea. This is known as the Uncertainty Principle.

11. A kitten, when fully immersed in water, will a) displace an amount of water approximately ten times its own volume and b) scream.

12. 'Kitten' is a colloquial term for 'entropy'.

13. A kitten and an old bootlace are all that is required to demonstrate centrifugal force.

14. If you rub a kitten vigorously with a piece of silk while holding an amber rod and shuffling your feet, and then extend an inflated balloon towards the kitten, the end result will be a very angry kitten, several bleeding scratches, a ruined silk handkerchief, and a popped balloon.

15. The universe is curved. The kitten is twisted. The older cat is, simply, bent out of shape.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 01:00 AM EST
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Wednesday, August 21, 2002

... can you get a PhD in cocksucking?

Yeah, but doing your thesis really sucks.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:33 PM EST
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Monday, August 19, 2002

If you have a sense of humor (and you must, or why would you put up with me?) and any kind of appreciation for classic animation at all (Disney, Warner Bros., and the like), you are required to go to your local comic book store and throw some sort of raving fit until your comic retailer coughs up a copy of 'Three Fingers' by Rich Koslowski. (Yes, that Rich Koslowski, of 3 Geeks fame.)

You can also order it online here; just scroll down the page until you see the title in question. Be forewarned: it's a graphic novel, not a comic book, and costs about US$15.

'Three Fingers' is a dark and subversive 'television documentary' about the bad old days of cartoons in a world that never quite existed, as seen through both the eyes of the humans and the toons involved. If you understand what I mean when I say it's like Who Framed Roger Rabbit? filtered through The Cowboy Wally Show, then you're exactly the type of person who should be reading this book.

I haven't loved a graphic novel this much in a long, long time, and I take my comic book geekery very seriously. Almost as seriously as I take my animation geekery, and, well, this GN is my reward. Highly recommended.

Three fingers up.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 11:36 PM EST
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Sunday, August 18, 2002

To the vole who left a review on the infamous 'Blowing My Mind' to inform me that I use the word 'cock' too much in my smut:

Cock cocked his cocky cock and cocked his head, cackling "Cock?"

There. Hope your head exploded. Have a nice day!

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 10:35 PM EST
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Thursday, August 15, 2002

You know what? Today I learned (or, I suppose, re-learned) what true bibliophilic joy is.

Excess.

You see, Harper has owned the paperback rights to Terry Pratchett's Discworld books since about, oh, Small Gods. And I kept looking at those cheerfully colored paperbacks and thinking I want to read those and then remembering, sadly, that I am a total completist dorkwoman who has to read series from the beginning, in the order in which the author wrote the books, not skipping a single one. Even if the books in question almost all stand totally alone, like the Discworld books. And actually finding those out-of-print books would require effort. I hate effort.

(I've owned Small Gods for years, actually, and it remains my favorite Discworld book ever. But I digress.)

So, anyway, several months ago, I was browsing through the local Borders. By 'browsing' I mean, of course, stomping through the store collecting books so fast that I appeared to be magnetized. Anyway.
And I spotted, there on the shelf, a cheerful new Harper edition of the first Discworld book. They'd acquired Mr. Pratchett's entire catalog, and were now back-releasing those paperbacks.
So I promptly grabbed the first three books and devoured them. (My record for Discworld maceration is three books devoured in approximately six hours. Yes, I am insane.) And every month or so another Discworld book would pop up in that cheery new edition, and I'd grab it and go home and eat it.

About two weeks ago, the back releases caught up to Small Gods. And all of the Discworld catalog was in current paperback release.

Tonight, I went to our local Barnes and Noble with Boyfriend. If you had been there, say, standing an aisle over in the Poetry section, you might have heard a strange noise, like a pair of vacuum cleaners set to 'parody'.
Because they had them all. And we made little 'vroom' noises and cleaned them out, calling back and forth to each other like Hoovers in rut. 'Feet of Clay?' 'Here!' Thud. 'Interesting Times?' 'Um... here!' Thud. 'Maskerade?' 'Um... dammit, I just saw it... here!' Thud.
Five minutes later, triumphant, Boyfriend and I piled twelve brand-new Discworld paperbacks (all the way up to the latest release) on the counter and dropped a VISA on top.

See, right about here is where I stop, and point, and laugh, and scream HA HA HA I'M OLD AND RICH NOW GIVE ME MY HUGE BAG OF BOOKSWAG WENCH AND NEVER MIND THE COST.
You don't need to have money to experience bibliophilic joy, but man, does it help.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go consume another giant hunk of 'Men At Arms'.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 04:42 AM EST
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Monday, August 12, 2002

I have a confession to make.

Boyfriend? The one I keep blogging about?

He's, uh, actually technically Husband.

Yeah.

About a year ago now (late August, anyway) we got married, and the only reason I don't call him 'Husband' instead of 'Boyfriend' is because the very idea of me being married to anyone is ridiculous. I can't say 'and this is my husband' without experiencing a slight muscle tic: the entire right side of my face slams shut, my head twitches uncontrollably at an angle, all my limbs except my left leg attempt to curl up around my body protectively, and then I give up and fall to the floor and curl up in a fetal position while whimpering and occasionally drooling.
My friends assure me the tic is barely noticeable.

I never blogged about it before because, well, I was in serious denial about the fact that I was actually married, and besides that, some things just aren't your business. Why I continue to believe that my exploding armpit and my taste in pornography are your business and my marriage isn't is unclear.

Anyway.

We'd been living together for close onto eight years before we got married. That seems like a long time, and yeah, it really was. But at the same time it wasn't long enough. We tried to get married once, before, after we'd lived together for about four years.

It didn't happen.

Well, obviously. The reasons are many and varied and not very interesting, but let's just say that my tendency to collar complete strangers and scream "I AM NOT A WIFE!" at the top of my lungs might have had something to do with it.
That, and weddings suck.
Well, okay, so maybe they don't suck. Maybe that's just my opinion. But I've never enjoyed a wedding in my life, and I really had no reason to think that my own wedding would be any different. In fact, it would suck harder, because I wouldn't be able to duck out early and go the hell home.

Let's look at how weddings stack up on the Mooncalf Scoring System of Incredibly Bloody Uncomfortable:
Binding, hot, uncomfortable clothing: 10 pts.
+ anything resembling a skirt or dress: +5 pts.
+ any form of pantyhose: +20 pts.
+ having to wear makeup: +10 pts.
Having to be the center of excited attention constantly for 5+ hours without being able to sneak away and log on to check my email: 100 pts.
+ having been the center of an entirely different sort of attention for two weeks prior: +50 pts.
Being embarrassed to hell and back by a bunch of well-meaning relatives: 10 pts.
+ being asked at least once about our plans for children while still at the reception: +20 pts.
+ being forced to dance: +10 pts.
Eating mediocre reception food while crammed into said uncomfortable outfit: 10 pts.
+ if uncomfortable ballgown thingie happens to be white when I am prone to spillage: +5 pts.
Noisy, crowded atmosphere: 20 pts.
+ filled with our relatives: +10 pts.
+ and at least five shrieking children: +20 pts.
+ wearing aforementioned ballgown of DOOM: +5 pts.
Actually having to plan said wedding over the months beforehand, including dealing with feuding relatives, dealing with 'wedding merchant' people, discussing who to chop off the guest list, actually forming the guest list, and in general having to micromanage every single little piddly detail of a five-hour party that I'll barely remember save for the immense pile of bills: 1,000 pts.
====================
TOTAL: 1, 305 pts of Incredibly Bloody Uncomfortable

So, note that I hate noise, crowds, children, fuss, uncomfortable clothing, conflict, being the center of attention, planning, micromanagement, and spending oodles of money on something I can't keep, and you'll have a pretty good idea of how 'excited' I was to be planning a wedding. So much for that.

So four more years went by. We were still happy together, and there really wasn't any need for us to get married.
Until, suddenly, there was.
You see, boys and girls, my health insurance ran out. And let me tell you, if you happen to be overweight, no insurance company in the world will touch you. No matter if you offer to pay higher premiums. No matter if you're healthy as a horse otherwise. They know better. Fat people are expensive to insure, because most of them break down in a big way once they get older.
But if we were married, I could tag along on Boyfriend's insurance. If we were married.

It sounds like the dumbest reason in the world to get married, doesn't it? Well, perhaps it is. But it's still a valid one. Plus I really did want to marry this guy, earlier coldfootness aside. See, here's the crux of the issue: I didn't want to have a wedding. I just wanted to be married. And I wasn't going to let anyone -- his parents, my parents, our friends, our culture, our society -- tell me differently, or try to force me into doing otherwise. I'll register for china when they pry my guest list out of my cold, dead hands!

So in late August of last year, we went down to the county courthouse in jeans and t-shirts, and got married by a judge. The 'ceremony' lasted about three minutes, and took place in an empty jury room. The whole thing, including applying for the marriage license, took about an hour, and cost about forty dollars. And then we went home.

And then, after the fact, we emailed our totally unsuspecting parents and told them what we'd done.

And looking back on it now, I'm not sorry I did it this way. Not at all. In fact, given my loathing of fuss and bother, I'd have to say that I have had my dream wedding.
... not that I'm married or anything. Noooo.
*twitch*twitch*
NO! NOT ME! I'M YOUNG! I'M FREE! I'M NOT MARRIED! NOOOOOOO!

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 04:55 AM EST
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Saturday, August 10, 2002

So we got a brand new kitty earlier this week. All black, with a white spot on his chest.

Being the huge geeks that we are, we promptly named him 'Alfador'.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 04:54 AM EST
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Thursday, August 8, 2002

If I were a tentacle monster with a fetish for Japanese schoolgirls, I would pretend to be Amish. Because who would think to look for me there?

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 11:41 PM EST
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Tuesday, August 6, 2002

Okay, so stop me if you've heard this one: a priest, a monkey, a pig, and a river ogre walk into a bar...

... man, I've heard it.

Really?

Yeah, man. Heard it.

Okay, okay. So, um, lemme see... oh, I got it. A teenaged girl, a little monkey-kid, a pig, and a guy who's scared of women walk into a bar...

That's the same damn joke, man.

... a priest, a monkey, a pig, a fish, a couple of dragons, a butterfly creature, and a fire ogre...?

Same joke.

Four guys with really homoerotic cigarettes walk...

... what part of 'the same joke' don't you get, man?

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 04:28 PM EST
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Saturday, August 3, 2002

So today is my birthday, I have just turned thirty years old, and as soon as I figure out who is responsible for this I shall have him severely beaten.
...
...
...
...not you, Dad.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 01:39 PM EST
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The House Of Otakon
(to the tune of 'House of the Rising Sun' by the Animals)

There is a con... in Baltimore...
They call it Otakon...
And it's been the ruin of many a fangirl
And God, I know... I'm one.

My boyfriend came to meet me
We took a hotel room...
And when I saw the dealers
Well, Lord, I saw... my doom.

Now the only things a fangirl needs
Is to buy, and want, and play...
And the only time she's satisfied
Is when she sees... anime.

Otaku, tell your soulbonds...
Not to do what I have done
To spend their cash on sin and toys
In Baltimore, at Otakon.

Well, I got my swag into the car
The rest fit in my lap
I'm goin' back to O-hi-o
But first, I'll take a nap.

Well, there is a con... in Baltimore...
They call it Otakon...
And it's been the ruin of many a fangirl
And God, I know... I'm one.

Posted by Mie Tsukikoushi @ 01:35 AM EST
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