YESSSS. I WILL INVITE GRANT AND SEAN AND WE WILL MAKE THIS A BSG DOUBLE DATE!
[image: ee-card thing with a light blue background, depicting four people drawn in monochrome, drinking and enjoying themselves. text reads: “Let’s socially ostracize ourselves tonight by having a very serious discussion about Battlestar Galactica in a crowded bar.”]
See also: my dates with G.
Because I have FEELINGS about STARBUCK and CYLONS and I DON’T CARE IF YOUR FRIENDS WANT ME TO SHUT UP we are TALKING ABOUT SOME MOTHERFUCKING BSG HERE PEOPLE
YOUR LIFE WILL BE CONSUMED BY BENEDICT CUMBERBITCH
I’m so ready. SO READY. Vicarious living through fictional works is GO!
Confession: before I realized he was, like an actual acting person with an actual name, I thought “Benedict Cumberbatch” was some sort of in-joke. I assumed it was maybe something about how folks from the US view British culture.
BUT THEN I stopped ignoring tumblr.
even though I’m only halfway through season one of BSG (it belongs to someone else and it’s our date night thing, so I only get two episodes a week) I give in.
I’m starting Sherlock.
Ugh, so anxious
My roommate couldn’t find her key, so she buzzed. I never answer the buzzer unless I’m expecting someone, because it makes me nervous (who wants in my home go away i don’t know you)
ad then there was noise on the stairs, and I went in to wake up T and say “hey, someone buzzed and now there are people on the stairs please don’t let them kill me” and he’s like “s’fine, they’re just drunk and got locked out, I heard them from the street”
and then a masculine voice in the apartment saying “Should we lock this?” and K like “nah, the lock is broken”
so she brought a guy home and he knows we have no lock
Why is Downton Abbey the realest show on TV? Is it because the Crawleys own Yorkshire like fox terriers own the Westminster dog show? Is it because of Ms. O’Brien, a lady’s maid so cold she could make ice crumpets in hell? Is it because in season one Thomas wanted to be Lord Grantham’s valet so bad he fucking framed Bates for stealing the wine? Is it because basically everyone on that show is gangsta? You think Mary Crawley isn’t gangsta? When cousin Matthew was like, I’ll marry you, and she’s like, I don’t know, maybe, I’m not even sure you’re in line to inherit the estate? Damn, Mary! I mean that bitch won’t even wear a hat twice. You see her in a velveteen cloche in episode one? Don’t plan on seeing that thing again. And let’s not even discuss the fact that she fucked a Turkish man to death. And what about Maggie Smith, a.k.a. the female Dumbledore from Harry Potter, a.k.a. the Dowager Countess of Grantham? You know how she gets about flowers, and how she went all bawse in season one during the village rose competition? Well, let’s just say it’s not long into season two that she comes into contact with some bulrushes she does not think belong in a Downton arrangement.
Because if you thought season one was insane, wait until you see season two. I mean, cousin Matthew is engaged and it’s not to Mary—and he and Mary and his fiancée still end up at Downton on the same night. And sister Sybil sneaks down to the kitchen to learn how to boil water for the first time, even though she’s a lady. And Bates’s wife shows up and gets so real on Bates that she makes Ms. O’Brien look like Fredo Corleone. I’m not going to ruin the whole season, but I bet you’ll understand why people use the expression “I’m going Downton on your ass.” Say it next time someone gets up in your grill at a club or a winetasting. “Say ‘That’s way too tannin-y’ again and I will go straight Downton on you. Now let’s freak.” Or if you’re at a party and your friend cock-blocks you? Just be like: Do you know what time it is? It’s nine on Sunday night on PBS! Then drop your salad fork like it’s hot and walk off. It wouldn’t hurt to add: “And you’re not even in Burke’s Peerage.”
Last night at work (or should I say, around 2:30 this morning) some drunk guy who smelled great pulled me aside, shoved a $20 in my hand, and said, “Here. Your job sucks. This is for you.”
so ready for half a thousand drunk Upper Westies in impractical shoes to stagger around looking for the bathroom, demand their food IMMEDIATELY ten seconds after the order is put in, try to get my number, try to grab my ass, make racist comments about my coworkers, and hopefully not vomit on anything.
bring it on, NYC.
- friendly arguments between my lover and my roommate over the best Starfleet captain
- finally being told by someone in charge that I am valued at my job
- having juuust enough to pay my rent for January
- this delicious beer I am drinking
- exciting bottles to restart my collection with
- having a wireless network called “gaypornandcupcakerecipes”
- my other awesome roommate cleaning the whole apartment because he knew I was too tired to do so
So, this is also my first “Kathryn talks about her lover” post. Please forgive me.
Some things to know about him: he’s a bit older than me*, is poly as well, and we have some wonderful things in common up to and including our taste in science fiction (in fact, as I type this I should be getting ready for Dinner and BSG Night but instead I’m tumbling in my underwear. WHOOPS) as well as some surprisingly great kink compatibility.
My roommates and I (none of whom could afford to go back to our families for Thanksgiving) had Friendsgiving at G’s apartment with his bird. There were loads of leftovers because Katie and I cooked all day, so we brought some home in his refrigerator dishes.
That’s what he calls them. Yeah.
So about a week ago, K, G and I were at a bar that we frequent. All rather impaired, I might add. Suddenly, he glares at us and says, “Did you bring back my refrigerator dishes?”
"Well, no, it didn’t seem best to bring them to your show and then tote them around all night," K says.
"And I mean, I can just bring them by next week."
"Can you? Sometimes, when I finish my grading and I’m home alone, I put on a movie and line them up on my coffee table and they watch with me. It’s just…not the same without all of them there."
He said that with a straight face. You’d be falling for him too, tumblr.
OBVIOUSLY, as I was doing my holiday shopping, I got him a set of three
tupperware refrigerator dishes.
And I drew faces on them, and gave them names. So he has some new friends to watch Fringe with.
I cooked some food.
Then I ate it.
That’s all I’ve achieved in the three point five hours I’ve been awake.
feedingonwind said: I am so glad you updated! I've been wondering what you're up to. Sorry it sounds like your living situation is slightly tenuous- but I hope your unofficial roommate turns out well! Also, I miss you. Just so you know. <3 Oh and also! I will be in NYC for a day or two mid-January, the 22nd and possibly the 23rd. I would love to grab you for a cup of tea or something- will you be around?
Hi! Things seem to be working out alright so far =] And I miss you too. I’d love to see you when you visit! Where would you be staying? If you’re in Brooklyn I’ll take you to my favorite coffee shop. Take care!
Do you ever take a look at your bowl of dry cereal and ask yourself, “Did I really just prepare a tastier, more well-balanced meal for my rats than I did for myself?”
I used to do this all the time. I’d steal grapes and strawberries and granola from the dining hall for Lucy. What shall I eat?
Dry ramen, directly out the pack.
I hear that a lot with regards to humor.
But here’s the thing — if “nothing is sacred” (which is a sentiment that is problematic at best), then guess what that means?
Humor isn’t sacred, either.
So when someone tells you that something you said is fucked up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t have a sense of humor.
It just means that maybe you’re not as funny as you think.