This post comes to you in Handy, Dandy Bullet Points! Bullet Points: for when you haven't updated in forever, and you don't know where to begin!


* I want to host some serious hanging out in my apartment. Like, knitting, tea and movies/tv shows sort of things. Anyone interested? 3 blocks from a M/V stop, convenient bus-age for them un-subwayable! Let's talk!

* Talking about knitting, the urge has finally struck me down--I JUST FINISHED PURCHASING the yarn needed to knit...


I can't even say I find it a particularly ATTRACTIVE scarf, but I've been wanting to knit an obscenely long scarf for a while now, and it is THE Obscenely Long Scarf To End All Long Scarves.

Send help, please.

* Talking about sending help, my consciousness has been COMPLETELY TAKING HOSTAGE BY TOM HARDY. I mean, just just LOOK at this magnificent bastard.

Not fair, sir. Not. Fair.

* Talking about FAIRES, went to the NY Ren Faire. May have to go again closing weekend. I mean, there were attractive ladies swinging swords and preforming abridged Shakespeare. And Nuns. Funny ones. AND I also purchased a new outfit.

My credit card currently HATES. ME.

* Talking about hate, my workplace has been an unhappy place lately. Due to some really, really poor moves on Madame President's part (mainly, not giving credit where it was due, and being obsessed with 1) cutting the budget foolishly and 2) bringing in new part time hires who DON'T know the space like our people do to DO the jobs that OUR people are there to do) people have been quitting. A. Lot. First it was Token!Brit (who left to do producing work on a little Broadway Musical about a man who could be called spiderlike [if you know what I mean], so BULLY HIM!) and then it was one lady in Membership...and today it was ANOTHER lady, who quit EFFECTIVE. IMMEDIATELY.


Pretty much, my work place-what-looks-like-a-castle is declining a'la Camelot--the golden age was wondrous, but people are leaving because the higher up management is getting worse, and I feel an epic battle and fall is coming.

All I know is that Lady!Boss has been looking for a new position else where...and THAT terrifies me. I feel like I shall be the last knight standing, or Geneveire banished to her nunnery, the last tragic survivor of a glorious era...

Ah well. It still pays me at least.

* In happier news, my BROTHER STARTED CULINARY SCHOOL!!!!....Dear God, may he not drop out. Or get kicked out. *frets*. However, is DOES mean I am obligated to visit him in Providence now. Mwhaha. Mwhahahaha. MWHAHAHHAHAHHA!

* I'm going to go make myself a cup of tea. Tea will make me feel better. Yes. Glorious Tea.
I have a million things to update about, like, the Decemberween party of piratey shenanigans, the half-assed but rather fun meet up last weekend, a very holiday-inducing rifftrax, Lindsay being in town, pink Christmas trees, real egg nog (DAMN that was a lot of egg...) and highly appropriate Christmas gifts--

Which I'll try to update about tonight. And with pictures too! But for the meanwhile...

We're retiring the 1st generation computers at my workplaces, because they are old and we're tired of trying to drag them back from death's door constantly. But The Captain--master of being serious in his minor detail orientation--told me to label the retiring computer, so we don't mix it up with the new shiny ones.

...Not like the computer is already labeled with an ID number so there's no danger of that happening, but VERY WELL, I can play at this game of anal redundancy.

The Captain wants labeled, I'll GIVE him labeled! )

Let no man claim I am not THOROUGH in my half-amused mockery.

UGH I need Christmas to happen before I do something REALLY foolish here.
This shouldn't make me as irate as it does, but this idiocy has gotten under my collar, and probably because it's exactly the sort of gender bullshit I swear to God I've been butting heads with my whole fucking life.

A brawl ensues at a youth football game because the parents' of the opposing team refused to let their sons play against a team that had a girl player, citing moral reasons for not wanting their sons to 'hit' a girl.

Dear Parents of the Eaton team;
Under the cut because, er, that was longer than I intended. Sorry, I just got REALLY. ANGRY. )

P.S. Oh, and parents of Eaton? It's SOOOOOO obvious you aren't from Long Island, where all girl's lacrosse reigns supreme, and scares the shit out of boys. Girls with sticks, man. There's a reason for myths about Amazon-like cultures throughout the world. We play to KILL.
My Lady Boss is a Red Sox fan. These are the things I do to make her happy.

Happy Friday, Everyone!
[ profile] st_xi_kink may have just created the single greatest thing to come out of the Star Trek fandom…maybe EVER.

The Vulcan Kink Meme – Or, Vulcan chicks can be fangirls too…in their own, Vulcany way.


It's just so...LOGICAL.
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He Ain't Heavy; He's My Brother: OR, an Essay on Being the Eldest AND Adopted

So Much For That Writer's Block... )
ink_n_imp: (ZIM! love)
Waiting in line last night for District 9, I was sandwiched between a group of guys—one of whom was wearing a yellow shirt that read Kirk Spock McCoy Sulu Chekov Uhura Scotty--and a guy and a girl who were playing Scrabble on their iphone. The guy used "Andorian" as a word. All I could think was "this needs a twittering."

My God. What would I have done had I been born before the Age of Fandom?

In regards to Distict 9...I wish I was intelligent enough to give it a review that would do it justice. I don’t even know if I’d want to review it, because I’d probably spoil it, and boy oh boy, for the first time…I really, REALLY don’t want to do that to ANYONE. But whatever that review would be, it would most definitely be sub-titled:

District 9: "Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most...Human"

Oh, fuck it, here’s what thoughts I wrote on the long subway ride from hell back to Queens this morning at 2:30 am. It’s long, rambling, and about as deep as I can get, which is probably quite shallow. Maybe minor spoilers? My movie reviewing rights should be revoked. You have been warned. )

Also last evening, the Hip Obscurity fundraiser was a great success! It was also an insane amount of fun! I had a great time MCing the Trivia portion—that is, I had great fun when I wasn’t battling wits with a shoddy microphone. It was frustrating to no end, though everyone told me afterwards as MC I handled the microphone SNAFU bullshit like a pro.

I suppose being a pro entails dancing around the room like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum hopped up on sugar while violently blaspheming against God, Jesus, his Mother and all the Saints. Whodathunk?

Holy God, am I really only running on 4 hours of sleep?

*Me and [ profile] neo_ninja, finally getting around to beating the game Dead Space after a YEAR LONG HIATUS*

[ profile] neo_ninja: I like my ammo like I like my women.

Me: Readily Available.

We’ve been running around like mad since yesterday, trying to prepare the Moose Room (aptly names, for there are 7 moose heads hanging the walls in that room) for The Board Meeting. You know, one of those these that the people who tell you how to run the place come in, listen to what you have to say, and then tell you what to do? YEA. THAT.

Which means it has to be PERFECT.

So, the Moose Room was PERFECT. Wires hidden away, papers, cups pencils lined up, chairs in order, tables aligned with the fireplace, the projector screen, and the planets. We were READY for 4 pm.

However, Lady Boss and I know how things roll here. Shit Happens. And so, we sat back, and waited for the Shoe to Drop.

At 2:45 pm, M’Lady Sovereign Ruler Whose Word is Justice and Law decided that the Moose Room, which had two balcony windows overlooking the Drill Hall, the Drill Hall being where an immense stage set up is currently being constructed—rather nosily, might I add!—was Too Noisy.

A Masterfully Fair Assessment, to be Fair.


So, we had 45 minutes to move EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING, to the conference room across the hall.


Me: So, looks like instead of the shoe falling on us, we got the boot up the ass instead.
Lady Boss: Boot? This isn’t a Boot. This is an 8 inch spike heel with 2 inch platform up the ass. This is dominatrix shit.
Me: *Is dying from two parts laughter, 1 part hysterics from Shadow of Doom*
Lady Boss: Two words, Antonella. Two Words! *as she swoops out of the office door and down the hallway* I. QUIT.
When I was in catholic school (kindergarten to 8th grade) I was One of a Triumvirate (myself, Greg and Stephen) that the teachers and priests SWORE would join the catholic holy orders one day.


Today I attended the ordination of Greg—the eldest of that triumvirate of YOU-WILL-TAKE-THE CATHOLIC-VOW-OF-HOLY ORDERS!

Greg is as of today, A CATHOLIC PRIEST.

Stephen is already a Brother, and is teaching at Chaminade High School, an all boy's catholic school in Mineola.

And myself?

…Two out of three ain't bad for the Catholic church?

Seriously, tonight I drank mightily and would have dropped my panties for my beer pong partner who NOT ONLY knew details of French-written Arthurian legend, but who knew Norse history (aka, what an "ting" was) and could quote shit from Hemingway AND who could discuss AT LENGTH King Alfred and who was joyously intrigued by my quotating and explicating of G.K Chesterton's "The Ballad of the White Horse") and who ALSO WAS ABLE TO QUOTE WODEHOUSE AND HAD GREAT AFFECTION FOR HUGH LAURIE AND STEPHEN FRY AS SKETCH COMEDIANS AND KNEW THEY WERE PART OF THE CAMBRIDGE FOOTLIGHTS!


Oh, and strangest part of all?



Once I read a book that SWORE that a person, if they followed the medieval model of looking for their perfect mate in a 30 mile radius (aka, walking distance) of where they were born, that they would find it.

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm…hello? I would like to subscribe to that newsletter?




MORNING AFTER EDIT:...I am impressed by how coherently I can still write while three sheets to the wind. I mean, it's still EMBARRASSING the shit I'll post while drunk, but at least it's legible?

Also--ouch, uncontrollable drunken caps-locking much?

Nella's New Goals In Life:

1) be a hobbit
2) Learn to not only sing, but tell people to fuck off.
3) become new sex symbol
4) Come back fucking crazy like Judy Garland on acid

etc etc etc
France? If you pull this off, you get all your street cred back. I might even have to NEVER TALK SHIT ABOUT YOU AGAIN.

French court tries Church of Scientology

PARIS – The Church of Scientology could be dissolved in France if it is convicted in a trial that opened Monday in a Paris court, where the group and seven of its French leaders stand charged of organized fraud and illegal pharmaceutical activity.
They just think EVERYTHING out to INSANELY logical conclusions.

Like how Sherlock Holmes MUST have been a Vulcan.

It's not crazy, it's LOGIC.

I think I love this ALMOST as much as the "Watson was a Woman" speech Rex Stout (author of the Nero Wolfe mysteries) gave at a Holmesian dinner back in the 1910s.

Iowan judge decides if he has to marry gay couples, then by George, he won't marry ANYONE!

I am honestly...MEH about this. Allow me to explain. I am both angry in the eyeroll sense over the sheer pettiness of it. It's a fucking CIVIL marriage, recognized by the state, not the church. You know, the thing that only cares about services and taxation? And not, you know, if it’s holy before the sight of God?


On the other sort of makes me rebelliously gleeful, in my usual devil’s advocate-y sort of way. "HUZZAH!" says the wicked bit of my soul that is positively allergic to idea of martial commitment*, "What a GREAT IDEA! Let’s make it so NO BODY allowed to get married anymore! Let’s all get equal in the OTHER direction! Who's with me!?”

I donno. This feels like such a wearying case of Your-Doing-It-Wrong-itis. The dude should have just cut his losses and retired. Give unto Caeser, man. Feel free shake your head and sigh regretfully at me and the rest of us damned fools doomed to burn forever in the fires of Hell (….or, roast for near-eternity in Purgatory…just saying. If Oscar Wilde can have a death bed confession/conversion, then hey, there’s still hope) but even Lot turned his back on Sodom and Gomorrah.

(…and then was raped by his two daughters while totally passed out in a drunken stupor.)

(…..Dude, the guy was wasted, how’d he get it UP??)

*I’m really just one of nature’s bachelors. This is becoming more and more startling apparent the older I’m getting.


FORSOOTHE! It appears that this day be Talk Like Shakespeare Day. You Know What That Means!!:

Judge! Thou art a little better thing than earth,
who does not his duty, but only judges
the lesser mortals who to you have come
not for God's Justice, but for what is just.
Sirrah! Of you I shake the dust from my soles,
and save the wedding wine of Cana for another day--
methinks it tastes best shared with lovers and friends,
than with scurrilous scolds and uncharitable nags.

...The Bard, I am Not.
Not even lunch time and I’m already contemplating my 3rd cup of coffee. And the knots in my left shoulder are so tight today, I can swear my body is trying to construct organic body armor. OW.

How is it that coffee tastes a THOUSAND times better when you put the milk and sugar in the mug BEFORE you pour the coffee? Does the pouring coffee fluff up the milk, making it yummier? But it also makes the sugar somehow sweeter. This requires more testing. TO THE BREAKROOM!
ink_n_imp: (It's from GOD - ABoFL)
My roommate, [ profile] muneybags6, was raised as Catholic as me, which means long, brutal years of shame, guilt, and plaid. I mean, I've know this chick since we were wee little first graders in a class of 36 other impressionable souls wearing pleated jumpers and shit.

So imagine my GOBSMACKED face when [ profile] andic213 begins yelling from the other room: "ANTONELLA!! CATHOLIC FAIL!!! CATHOLIC FAIL!!"

Me: *intrigued, rises from bed* What?

[ profile] andic213: Your roommate thought this Friday was called Black Friday! CATHOLIC FAIL!

[ profile] muneybags6: I thought it was Black Friday!...but that's that shopping day after Thanksgiving.


[ profile] andic213: It's Good Friday! Catholic FAIL!!!!


Seriously, muneybags. You didn't make the baby Jesus cry, but he's certainly sighing and shaking his head sadly. FOR SHAME.


...Though, honestly, Godsmacked is, dare I say, more fitting.
A mojito is the most perfect after work pick-me-up. EVER. HANDS DOWN.

In other news, I seriously need to rehaul my tagging system. It's not NEARLY witty/clever enough, and there are too many lazy repeats.
1) In the 7 Circles of Archaeological Hell, the seventh circle consists of having to lay line of shovel tests through Staten Island catbriar four feet taller than you. Imagine thorns so sharp and long they scratch you through your jeans and long johns, AND at one point go through your BOOT. Allow me to repeat: A THORN WENT THROUGH MY BOOT.

You have NO idea what my legs look like right now. It's pretty horrific, and they sting like a mo'fo' when I take a shower.

Though, it is a relief to no longer be digging along the Belt Parkway. I like the silence of working in the woods under the Outerbridge Crossing. If it just wasn't for those DAMNABLE CATBRIARS!!!!

Because I need my dose of blasphemy this evening, holy Christ, my everlasting sympathies.

Real Life-related:
1) I'm going to be Oscar Wilde for Halloween!...well, I will, once I modify a coat of mine, and make myself a fabulously foppish purple vest and green cravat. And then on November 1st at a little shindig [ profile] muneybags6 is hosting (themed "Saints and Demons: come as your best or worst!") I plan on going as Saint Lucy, with my eyes on a platter. I want to practice staring ahead with dark glasses on while I move my "eyes" to look at the people I'm talking too. I think it would be awesomely creepifying if I did it right.

2) I'm sitting on my grad school application for the March 31 deadline. Just didn't want to go to grad school this spring (assuming I would have gotten in in the first place).

3) My brother and I saw "Fuerza Bruta" on Saturday and it was AMAZING. It was like being in someone else's waking dream; one part nightmare, one part rave, one part "WTF that was AWESOME!". If you want to feel what's it's like to step into Wonderland, GO SEE THIS SHOW. You walk out of it and the rest of the humdrum world feels so much more magical. Just don't expect it to make any sense--just take it in and go for the ride. I mean, women swim in a clear pool as it's lowered within arm's reach of you. It's insane, but a good sort.

1) Everyone. Go to Watch the videos of my friend [ profile] theborderpatrol a.k.a. the Nostalgia Chick. Proceed to laugh yourself silly. The Anastasia review is a particular favorite of mine (though I LOVE the one for Pocahontas. Oh...Pocahontas)

2)I...have so many things for the internet to finish writing/to think about writing. The deadline for [ profile] thingsunwritten is nigh, and I need to finish my story about two gladiators. I have a slew of tables and prompts to start, much less finish ([ profile] thousandtables and [ profile] ink_twist being the big two)--

And NaNoWriMo Cometh.

I've an idea, but I've never down well with NaNo on even numbered years. I think I have a good idea for it this year, but...*sigh*

Other than that, my life is unexciting.
Well, this is a post a long time in coming! I've been meaning to post for the last few weeks about how I had lost my cell phone on the Long Island Railroad...and now I'm posting to tell you the prodigal phone has returned to me!!

The entire tale of its' journey is a long one indeed, epic in many ways, but suffice to say I have a habit of falling into a comatose state while on my 1 hour 45 minute train ride home, and when I awoke to find the train doors were opening at MY stop, I ran off the train, still fuzzy in the brain and sans cell phone (which had fallen out of my pocket) and green scarf (which I had taken off). I only realized this when I got home and some chap called my brother's cell with my phone. This fellow (of whom odes and ballads should be composed and sung but alas, his identity is unknown to me!) wanted to know who to send the phone and scarf too, so I gave him the address for my dad's office and hoped for the best.

Time dragged on, and I feared the worst, that I indeed would never see my cell phone (with all my numbers!) and my green scarf (my very favorite scarf!) ever again. I wondered if the man never sent [ profile] singealiene and I mused, perhaps he was a diabolically figure that had no intention of mailing my things, maybe he only wished to raise my hopes so that they might be dashed upon the rocks while he casually tossed my phone about in the comfort of his home and laughed evilly. Or, perhaps my things were lost forever in the Limbo of the US Postal System known as the Dead Letter Room...maybe my things were in Atlanta, Georgia, locked away like the Ark of the Covenant and would be sold off at their yearly auction...

But No. Well, I mean, based on the date of the postage my things DID have quite a journey through the US Postal System, but they have finally arrived, safe and sound after about 3 weeks of phonelessness.


Nella's Back!!

In other news, I've finally read Chesterton's Father Brown series...and I've finally realized who I was drawing when I drew him recently. It's pretty much a less chubby Father John, the priest who was our NYU chaplain when I was a wee little college freshman and the Newman Club (a.k.a. the Catholic Club) was the most glorious time of my college existence.

December 2010

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