You're A Mean One, Wang Xi-feng

[xifeng]

There was snow in the northern part of the state (apparently, since I don't tool around in northern Indiana), but nothing down here except some half-assed flurries in Sullivan, not even enough to cover the ground or anything. Nonetheless, I took my coat today, which I don't usually do this early in the winter.

I also finally caved and busted out the big guns: body lotion with shea butter. My skin is extremely dry, particularly the back of my left knee at which I have been clawing intermittently, and other people might be able to manage with less severe measures, but I can't. I actually envy these people who can manage with lighter lotions. (When I was a little kid, my skin thought it would be hilarious to develop seborrheic dermatitis and make everything that touched me hurt me, even my pajamas.) As I was telling duokinneas last year, or possibly in 2005, my descendants would be a race of skinless god-polymaths, if I were going to have any descendants.

If I hear that godawful song about the kid who wants to buy his mother a pair of shoes for Christmas so she'll look pretty when she dances with Jesus, or whatever that song is actually about, ONE MORE TIME, I cannot answer for what will happen next. It will probably involve me running amok and killing people.

Other fascinating things that have happened lately: I have purchased Christmas cards that you people can actually display without getting raised eyebrows (most of the ones I had before said things like "Joy to the fucking world!" on the front, or contained sly double entendres, or contained not-particularly-sly single entendres). These have adorable snowmen, because I like snowmen, and plus they were on special at the 'Mart.

Also, I am re-reading all the Balzac I have (I think I mentioned this project before) plus whatever the IU libraries have in English translation, and suddenly have the urge to start up a cracky RP set in early 19th-century Paris. (On the rare occasions when I want to play fandom, I always gravitate to the obscure fandoms or the fandoms where, as far as I know, I am the fandom. But then again I suppose it could be worse.) Never mind that probably nobody else on the Int0rwebz has read Balzac and would be interested in RPing in my cracktastic little world. I totally call Eugène de Rastignac, in case any of them have and are reading this.

Also also, I love (for "love" please understand "mildly dislike") the pervasive feeling that I am very unhappy outside the Church, coupled with the knowledge that I cannot go back (not right now, and possibly not ever for a wide variety of reasons). I also particularly enjoyed how this epiphany hit me while I was speeding towards Bedford. Why oh why does all the WTF come when I am in the car?

Agenda for tonight: get work out, read A Harlot High and Low, go to bed.

Comments

[forgottensanity.livejournal.com]

I call the young orphan who tries to steal Eugène de Rastignac's possessions!

"Voila le vu sera takozy d'Etiffe."

My young orphan speaks French good.

I don't particularly like to play fandoms. I always feel that the only person who can ever really get the characters just right is the original author. And if I have to do something fandom-based, I prefer to play as obscure a character as possible of which there is only little information so that it is almost the same as inventing my own character.

[shake-the-stars.livejournal.com]

What is it with you and thieving orphans? ^_- Also, I am surprised. I thought surely you would invent yet another of your splendiferous Sues, each more Suvian than the last. It's a gift, you know.

I feel the same way, and the fact that there are so many lemon-tastic fandom games and that I cantankerously fall in love with the smallest, geekiest, most obscure fandoms I can find doesn't help. :\ I'm sure there are good fandom games, but you probably have to wade through a sea of crap to get to them. A sea of crap, infested by flesh-eating Mary Sues. *shiver*

That, and it's just more fun to make shit up. :D