lunesque

Yet another lesson on the strange ways Rachel's brain works:

Alex says: "My brain is a hammer!"

Rachel thinks: Captain Hammer said "The hammer is my penis."

Obviously, this now means "brain penis."

Thank you.

So, it has come to my attention that Dr. Raven Chase = Anita Blake. Except cooler. Reasons why he's a Gary Stu?

He's pretty! He has magical powers! It's possible for him to be a lycanthrope! And now? Now, there are five vampires that show up later on, and they all want him.

On the other hand, I torture him a lot, so maybe that balances things out.

Also, we totally have canon incest. And no, it's not the twins.

Voted yesterday. Will be a nervous wreck until we get the results.

NaNo is over 8000 words so far--the boys changed the plot of the first chapter on me, and Castiel has appeared early. *headdesk* I have a feeling he's going to manage weaseling in to every chapter that I write, the fic whore.

For example, the Bureau of Security and Investigative Services of the California Department of Consumer Affairs requires private investigators to be 18 years of age or older; have a combination of education in police science, criminal law, or justice and experience equaling 3 years (6,000 hours); pass a criminal history background check by the California Department of Justice and the FBI (in most States, convicted felons cannot be issued a license); and receive a qualifying score on a 2-hour written examination covering laws and regulations.

Cue Raven laughing like a maniac, and Alex looking like someone just kicked his puppy. He's crap at exams. ♥

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In other news, Zarita and I walked to work yesterday. She was bounding around on the grass, carrying her phone in her jacket pocket, with her jacket tied around her waist. I was stomping along like a trooper behind her, somehow managing to keep up.

She turned to me and said, "Hey, there's a cactus! We can eat it if we get thirsty!"

To which I said, "Why do we need the cactus? In my backpack, I have two bottles of water, pop tarts in case we get hungry, and if we want to take a break, I've got the laptop, too!"

We blinked. She started laughing, "Omigod, you're McKay!!"

Me: So, what, that makes you Sheppard? Please." There was desperate fanning, because dude, it was hot yesterday. Then I said something like: "And of, of course, my face is going to burn off from solar radiation all because I forgot my sunscreen!" That was my cue, of course, to attempt suicide while Zarita laughed herself into a hernia, because. God. I was McKay yesterday. It was profoundly tragic.

Okay! Internet is fixed, but is limited to my father's computer again. There appears to be something wrong with the wireless router, but that's something we can fix in the future. Dad has actually contacted a repairman, and even ordered a replacement part! (The fan, which I've been harping on him to fix for months.) He's also contemplating getting a new computer, which I'm anxiously awaiting, so that I can completely wipe the drive of viruses and write on it to my heart's content.

In other news, Raven is a victim to Alex's libido. Haven't actually written any of the pr0n down, because that makes it too close to canon in my brain, and I require other people to write porn of them. So mostly I sit at work with glazed eyes and envision them. And they are pretty. People should write me fic. Don't tell me that I haven't written enough about them to make it plausible. Let me dream.

Detective!John is wondering when scheherezhad and I are going to write our version of the ARN, and has started hinting to me that he could totally work up a usable prologue if I could only bring myself to touch the book again.

Rodney!muse is almost completely de-mushroomed, with the exception of the collar of fungus he keeps trying to rip off. His arms are completely to scale, and he has working approximations of what might be legs. It's very impressing. Now he can run after Detective!John when he gets smacked.

Weather!Pattern!John is mostly not weather any more, unless he decides to get an attitude and doesn't want to talk to anyone. He still gives me a lot of rain.

And a last bit of info that no one except me really cares about: Enigma!Sirius actually, genuinely loves Engima!Snape. I'm this close to giving them a private island so they won't be bothered by Harry, honestly.

Also: I have watched like, the last four episodes of Dr. Who season 4, and am not quite sure why I'm so unhappy with the end of it. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I'm in love with Rose. Ah, well.

Oh my god. This is why I should never let my original muses go for too long without supervision. I wanted to write a snippet of something so that I can introduce everyone to Alex, who is quite possibly my favorite of all of my original muses (I mean, seriously. I love him so much, and everyone who has ever read him has had the same feeling toward him. watch it be jinxed now, but hey.)

Anyway, Alex's all, "Oooh, I'm going to be written!" and "Maybe you'll write you'll write Ari, too?" And then Hasan, the selfish bastard, just wrapped himself around Alex and was like, "No. He is mine."

I've spoiled Hasan, I admit, by letting him spend so much time unchaperoned with Alex in my brain, but this sort of behavior is unacceptable. There are, in fact, other characters that have to interact with Alex. He is not your toy. Ugh.

Have I told you guys that Draco has succeeded in creating a Rodney!muse that is more of a mushroom than anything? Like, seriously, he's in the Muse Swamp (and I really should detail a map of the interior of my brain sometimes) and Draco faithfully fed him an overload of coffee (which I drank) and computer games (which I played) and physics (I now know about Schroedinger's theory of superposition, and have a very basic knowledge of quantum theory) and sprouted a fungi that is totally a mushroom with Rodney's head on it. *_* (Sprout!muse says that he grew this way because with the computer games and the coffee overload, everything was warm and dark and wet, and was therefore perfect fungi breeding ground. She's trying to fix Rodney!mushroom!muse as we speak so that he won't be trapped like that. John!ghost!muse {and I say that fondly, because all I get are random flashes of Sheppard, but he hasn't coalesced into an actual mental figure, even though he does kind of want to kick up his feet with Dean!muse and have a beer.} is content with just keeping an eye on Rodney!mushroom!muse while he's stationary.

I managed to keep Rodney!muse away from settling in by drinking citrusy stuff and exercising, and that actually worked until he realized that I wasn't allergic, and he didn't have to suffer any ill affects from what I was doing and picked a spot to sprout. So now I get yelled at regularly, because I am--horror of horrors--a writer.

(Also, have I ever told anyone that once upon a time, when we were deciding study paths in high school, I wanted to be an astronomer? I had a telescope and I was part of the astronomy club and I was even set up to be in physics before I realized that math kicked my ass beyond any sort of reason. When I couldn't be an astronomer, I decided to be a marine biologist. I actually love science a lot. But everyone told me that I couldn't do it. I just didn't have a brain for numbers. I settled on being a writer because it was easy. Now, I think I've just settled.)

And so now, Rodney!mushroom!muse is making me drink more coffee now than I have in years, he mocks the way I think with disturbing regularity, and now. Now? He's making me play Minesweeper.

Let it be known now that I hate that game. I hate it. And I hate it even more now when I have someone yelling 'Do you just flail about with your mouse and hope you'll get lucky?' and 'Do you have an allergy to counting?' and 'Oh, god, forget about Ford--your fail needs an algorithm just so I can understand you!' and 'Couldn't my host be a hot blond? Or at least intelligent?'

So, I played upwards of probably 60 games. And won 1. We were so astounded we thought for a moment about whether we should attempt that miracle again, or call it a night.

I called it a night.

I'm completely insane.

In better news, I apparently have an interview on Monday. Who knew people were actually looking at my resume?

ETA: All of this was brought on by the fact that I read the word 'resent' and pronounced it as 're-sent.' *sigh*