Thu, Mar. 24th, 2011 06:36
jarissa: (Default)
I have seven of nineteen " failed date" segments written and posted.  One really needs a complete re-edit, because it stinks, but I posted it anyway.

Today's Thursday.  Self-imposed due-date is Saturday evening.  In the vernacular of The Kids These Days:  I suck.

Where, in the name of space monkeys, does one buy flavor syrups for tasty beverages (alcoholic types AND/OR coffee types AND/OR soda types) in this day and age?  I just want coconut syrup, for pity's sake, not the "piña colada" mixes that claim to taste like coconut and pineapple, and often list no plant matter in their ingredients whatsoever.

Why do so many of the LJ Styles leave so much real estate empty on the screen?

To do:
  • More writing.  Three segments are particularly short, not sure what's going to happen with the other freakin' nine.
  • Today is Thursday; wash sheets and towels, scrub toilets, dust and de-cobweb one of the common rooms.
  • Make legs and feet more presentable.
  • MORE WRITING.  That end segment, "date succeeded", is going to be medium-length, which seems to mean a page and three quarters.
  • Find out what's the deal with Brute Force Leather:  try yet again to use website contact form.  If it doesn't immediately mail me some sort of "oh hi, you used the contact form" message this time, call them.  "Whatever happened to my corset, ordered and paid for last DragonCon?"  Gotta be some reasonable explanation.
  • Thaw substances for Saturday dinner.  Possibly do some pre-cooking.
  • Exercise.  Also throw skunk for Mifune.  Also sit with Belle and pet her a while, in hope of re-establishing nonadversarial relationship.
  • Meditation Times may wind up being skipped today, as when will I fit it in?
  • Call Mom.
  • More writing!

Brute Force Leather:  Successfully contacted, and corset will be on the way next week.
Another segment done, edited, and posted; ten to go.  Some of the trouble with these is that the male lead has had very little on-screen time, and the GM hasn't done a whole lot to establish personality (or ethical boundaries, or style).  He's got courage, and some presence, and has yet to fully adjust to the idea that Vanya is actually capable of taking care of herself in combat.  (He has, however, already been thoroughly chewed out for the Sheer Dumb of jumping in front of her during combat.  Won't happen again.  Probably.)

Belle is not interested in being petted, or indeed sat with, much less re-establishing any nonadversarial relationship where I am the Alpha Broad.  Sigh.
I am just about beat.  Segment partially written, but I'm starting to get to the point where everything I write is dumb.

jarissa: (Default)
Step one:  abdominal surgery, outpatient basis
Step two:  near-panic because I have the urge to urinate and NOTHING IS HAPPENING.  (The near-panic part is probably due to being stoned on the remnants of the anaesthetic.)
Step three:  move back and forth between bathroom and bed every threeish minutes.
Step four:  finally relax enough to let the bladder unclench
Step five:  pass water, essentially, at least once an hour regardless of how recently painkiller has been taken.  Occasionally remember to chug some Gatorade.
Step six:  body shape actually changes!

To wit, for the first time in over a year, my breasts stick further out than my belly.  No idea if the other fat collection centers have also seen changes, as I'm still a little sore and drugged to try viewing my silhouette in a mirror.

Also, I'm pretty sure I more-than-flashed a friend who came by to supervise me (and keep the cats out of the way) while Dearly Beloved went to the pharmacy.  I owe apologies.  Probably giving the apologies in the form of Ohio Buckeyes (no-bake peanut butter cookies) would not be appropriate in this specific instance, given the coloration of the cookies.  Anybody got a good recipe for Brain Bleach?

(That's probably a good definition of friendship, actually:  a friend will keep your cats out of your sanitized bedroom.  A REAL friend will steer your mostly-naked person back into bed despite visual TMI!)

Once I can finally get down the stairs, I need to break out the Wii Balance Board and find out how much weight I've lost.
jarissa: (Default)
Today's topic is probably best labeled "beauty care", I guess:  Not really dinner table conversation, but no terms unusable in the presence of preadolescents.

I'm a healthy, typical American mix of several ethnic subgroups:  in my case, that'd be Irish, Italian, and German.  In the genetic lotto, I inherited pale skin that freckled in my youth, but doesn't tan easily; large pores, which turn attempted use of makeup into a logistical nightmare; and very thick, dark hair that starts well below the surface of semitranslucent upper skin.

In other words, the hair on my head is only now starting to thin down to "average" at quite a bit more than thirty-five years of age; it's long enough that I have accidentally sat on it before, and as a teen/college kid I could get the Tina Turner Effect simply by brushing my mostly-dry hair over my head until all the knots were completely out, and then standing upright and throwing the hair (using both hands!) upward out of my face.  No hairspray or hair goop needed.

The hair on my legs, however....
... that's another story entirely. )

Now if only we could convince Target's Buyer that fat ladies also have a need for businesswear slacks, versus the current and past several years' repeated options of "crop pants" (Uhm, pants designed for beach/boatwear are NOT officewear!) and "sweatpants or jeans" (We don't just lounge around the house or the gym, we have to make the money to afford said house and gym!), I'd be doing remarkably well.  I haven't been shaped right for anything at Avenue and similar plus-centric clothing stores around here.

It's raining yet again, so I ought to be taking my steampunk outfit from storage and examining it for mending; Extraordinary Contraptions are coming into town next month, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them again.


jarissa: (Default)

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