langwidere: a john uskglass pixelbuddy (i came to my enemies in a RAIN OF QTE)
So, I waitedwaitedwaited patientlypatientlypatiently for Apple to squeeeeeze out that new Mac Mini, and then it finally appeared! Last month! Hooray! I ordered it like this: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! FAINT! And then it came, and it was the worst computer I have ever seen in my life. It appeared to have been assembled by a committee of those weird, embittered Mac-haters who used to troll Daring Fireball back when it allowed comments. It has no optical drive! The specs are weird! The only included monitor cable is three inches long and 100% useless unless applied to Apple’s new $999 screen! It has four USB ports! It is pointlessly tiny! Why is it so fucking tiny! It’s not like I’m going to be carrying it around! It’s supposed to be a desktop computer, isn’t it! You know, if it were slightly less tiny, you could’ve maybe fit a fucking superdrive in there, couldn’t you! Speaking of which, it has no software component! It relies upon the Magic of the Internet to back stuff up/repair problems, in the event of an inevitable (if you’re me) catastrophe! So let’s imagine a scenario in which I attempt the upload of my 450GB of pure binary shit onto some fantastic ephemeral Apple Data Cloud in the middle of the night as my computer gently weeps, and think of the many exciting new dirty words I will accidentally invent! And what happens when the system wakes up cranky one happy Sunday morning when I am supposed to be vetting thesis topics and it can’t find its start-up disk! Those nakedly grasping brilliant Apple engineers! What a bunch of fucking cards! They should just start selling branded computer cases and let us put the parts in ourselves!

Also, ALSO, I bought the ($77! At Amazon!) Apple-approved optical drive that was supposed to complete the Mini, Cameron Crowe-style, but it had such a short cord I couldn’t even plug it in. Well, I mean, I could plug it in, but it looked like this, and obviously I couldn’t exactly sit the fucker on top of the computer itself. (The wifi antenna-thing is still in the top of the case, right?) Also it ate up one of my four (4) (IV) available USB ports, leaving me with three (3) (III) open USB interfaces and approximately nineteen USB devices, including hubs. Really amazing cool idea, you guys.

MORE COMPUTER DRAMA: CUT FOR LENGTH )

Also, speaking of which, I have been trying to Write Something for the last nine days, and Things Are Not Exactly Going As Smoothly As Expected. So, rather than wangsting tenaciously over that (MY BRAIN CANNOT CONTINUE COCKBLOCKING ME FOREVER, CORRECT? I MEAN, EVENTUALLY AFTER MANY YEARS I WILL HAVE TO DIE OR SOMETHING?) I thought I would do that thing I do where I write strange long whiny ‘reviews’ of movies everybody else saw eighteen months ago. And that’s what I did: Ta-da!

I WATCHED PRETTY MUCH ANY NON-ROMCOM MOVIE I COULD FIND ON MY TEEVEE LAST MONTH, BUT MY FAVORITE WAS, SPOILERS, INCEPTION, MOSTLY BECAUSE OF THE STARTLING VERISIMILITUDE THAT POWERS ITS NARRATIVE (LET’S ACT LIKE POST-HYPNOTIC SUGGESTION IS SOME KIND OF TERRIFYING LOGISTICALLY-IMPOSSIBLE SCI-FI MANEUVER THAT NOBODY HAS EVER HEARD OF BEFORE, IT’LL BE FUN), AND NOT BECAUSE IT FEATURED A SUGARY ASSORTMENT OF PIPING-HOT SLICES OF MANPIE. THAT IS A TRUE STORY. AND ALSO NOT BECAUSE I THOUGHT LEONARDO DICAPRIO’S PERSISTENTLY IRRITATING CHARACTER WAS NAMED ‘DUMB COB,’ FOR A WHILE. THAT’S A TRUE STORY TOO. NOTE: CONTAINS NSFL MANGU PORN. )

That was really long! Probably I should post more often, so there’s less chance of these huge tumescent word-monsters escaping unchecked into the unwary wilderness.

Lastly: CONGRATULATIONS YOUR THIRTEE WON TOO!

Now I am going to go address my e-mail situation. (“HELLOOOOOO, E-MAIL SITUATION!”)

cf.

ETA: UGH THIS FUCKING POST. DID DREAMWIDTH'S HTML EDITOR SPONTANEOUSLY GROW SOME STANDARDS IN JULY OR SOMETHING?
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (i made it! it is true.)
It is alleged by the internet that Apple intends to come out with the latest in Mac mini technology later today. Oh, fingers crossed. Hopefully they won’t have moved the price point into another tax bracket and I will be able to afford a new one, and I can finally put poor malfunctioning Eugenie out to pasture. [EDIT: THE INTERNET LIED.]

I have been busy, sort of, but (dammit!) not busy enough. Also I have been a very bad DW citizen. I am sorry, I was reading actual books instead. A poor excuse, I know. Here are the things I would’ve posted, in order, had I been able to marshall the effort —

WARNING: This post is disturbingly long, even for me. Behind every one of those cuts is a 'normal-sized,' Emma-style entry. Even if you really love me (MOM!), do not attempt to read it all at the same time. Especially if you hope to keep loving me. And I really want you to keep loving me, really I do.

SHERLOCK POST )

GOOD OMENS POST )

SUSANNA CLARKE POST )

KINDLE POST )

HERE ARE SOME IMAGES & PHOTOS WHICH I INTENDED TO BE AMUSING )

A BIZARRE & MASSIVE LINKS POST )

Also, I just received this book in the mail. I’ve been trying to get it off various specialty Japanese bookstores for years, and then on a whim I searched for it on Amazon, where I found it for sale for, like, $10 used. FOILED AGAIN, CAPITALISM! YOU ARE A WORTHY OPPONENT. It is the most perfect Japanese grammar book I have ever seen and I am kind of excited to get the chance to study it; the authors wrote it specifically to aid people who are interested in doing academic research in Japanese, and it features sentential structures that I’ve never seen anyplace else. Except in actual Japanese, I mean. (I hope to use it to — among other things — bring you some gay-themed comic content that does not involve, say, the presentation of love-rape as an adorable courtship ritual.) (Or that features some female characters who are not toxically obnoxious!) (Assuming such content exists, of course.) It also has an entire index of nonintuitive Japanese expressions involving "気," one of which (気を付ける, which means "be careful" or "pay attention," or more literally "fasten your essence," haha, what? what??) left me scratching my pointy head for a week when I saw it in a Suzuki Tsuta comic (I can’t remember which one, they’ve all merged together into one giant run-on sentence strung together with でs and のs that’s made of understated masculine angst and misconstrued regret with a light grey background and a cat on it, like a fictive, gay Voltron).

(Parentheses!) (Parentheses?) (Parentheses…)

Okay, done.
See you in July!
(Of 2015.)

i like cox.

Apr. 1st, 2011 03:28 pm
langwidere: a cintia dicker editorial (diet coke makes you beautiful)
I have some kind of gross stomach flu! Luckily, I am still on "spring break" (haha, it is snowing) so I can roll myself into the bathroom* as many times a day as I would like (I would not like to roll myself into the bathroom any times a day, to be honest) (well, maybe once a day). Disaster averted.

Also I have a very terrible new haircut. When my mother saw it, she said: "Oooo, it looks like you killed a rare and sacred bird and then put the carcass on your head!" I am still wondering, actively, whether or not she intended this comment to be a compliment. (It's just hair; I find these sorts of things merely annoying.)

Between the bathroom-rolls, I have spent all my time today watching a person called "Brian Cox" on the YouTube**. I first encountered Brian Cox at The Tinned Fruit Conundrum, as you do, and at the time I thought he was a cast member from Little Britain or something. In my defense, he is a physicist, and physicists are practically indistinguishable from comedians in nearly all applications. Also, I thought he was high. And wearing lipstick. I expected a man in a dress to come wandering into the scene and hit him in the face with a fish. Gradually I began to realize that he was a serious individual and probably neither actually really high nor wearing cosmetics, but instead of losing interest I somehow began to find him even more compelling. This is because I can't understand a word that comes out of his mouth (also he is incredibly good-looking and he has shiny black hair, two things which always help me to maintain my interest in anything). He smiles incessantly, for some reason, even when he is calling people fuckwits, so it is impossible to read his lips. His words have too many vowels, and not enough syllables. Trying to figure out what he's talking about is a process of discovery. I eventually realized, for example, that the often-repeated word "feeengz" means "things," because once I heard him apply the root "feeengh" to the prefix "nuff," to create the term "nufffeeengh," a cognate to the English word "nothing." This process is a million times more interesting than whatever dumb/boring space thing he is always blabbering about in inappropriately dramaturgical, Sherloquesque tones. ♥

Would you like to see some vaguely comical photos? )


* as you can see by the photos, I mean this literally

** What has happened to the YouTube today? I realize that the occasion of April 1 presents an utterly irresistible opportunity for asshats to promulgate sanctioned acts of blatant idiocy upon the internets, but I'm not quite understanding how the 1911 thing is supposed to be funny.
langwidere: sherlock holmes and dr. watson, from the recent bbc series (totally going for the kiss)
All right! So. Yes. Armageddon happened/is happening in Japan! That is/was pretty awful, is/wasn't it? Also, additionally, ew, America is now engaged in a fun new war with some profoundly unlucky Arabs who were no threat to our security in either the short term or the long term, and also, randomly, there's going to be a guaranteed-awful Buffy reboot appearing in a theater near you, so it looks like God or the Spaghetti Monster or Father Dis or Satan or whomever has a hand steering the tiller of fate really, really liked 2005. Um. I was following news of the inspiring uprisings in the Middle East & North Africa as closely as it is possible for someone like me to follow them, and then things started kind of turning to shit, with US-backed dictators & their armies turning on their own people or on people adjacent to their empires, Sarah Palin launching herself at India and talking in public, the American establishment ignoring/laughing at pro-democracy protestors all over the place because all the American establishment cares about is who will sell it oil and protect Israel's nutty interests, etc. and so I stopped. Also, I am not going to say anything about the horrors people have suffered/are suffering in Japan, because what would I say? Gee, bummer? Hope things turn around for you soon, Entire Nation of Japan? Nothing is the way to go there. If we went with a little more "nothing" in this horrible, horrible country, just in general, I think the world would really be a better place (no homo) (literally).

Also, speaking of which, I am not ever voting again*. I don't care who gets elected president next. I don't care if the sticky illiterate scooter-powered hordes elect John McCain, or Haley Barbour, or a genetic recombinant of Jefferson Davis and Ronald Reagan, or Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Fuck you, America. I hope the evil clown (by which I mean "Haley Barbour") eats every last one of you.

Anyway, so, watch as I change the topic with painful obviousness:

Sherlock
I still can't find my damn links, which I know are around here someplace, but let's give it a go anyway. As the official last person to comment on this series I will keep things really brief, because I love you. But, so: Firstly, I would like to draw a distinction here between Sherlock the show, which is a flashy, fun, showbiz extravaganza on the order of Doctor Who, which I find pleasantly mediocre but not terribly exciting, and Sherlock the Sherlock, who is an entirely separate order of awesomeness. I'm not sure Sherlock the show is really picking up what Conan Doyle put down in his stories (although I was impressed by the Victorian-appropriate characterization of Chinese mobsters -- AND WHAT, BY THE WAY? -- in The Blind Banker; spot-on, lads! tally-ho! view-halloo!), but I cannot say enough drooly things about Benedict Cumberbatch, whose theatrical, neurotic portrayal of the totally impossible title character is every bit as accurate and arresting as Jeremy Brett's iconic interpretation. I cannot wait until he is actually forced to play the violin on camera. Word. Secondly, I want to say that Martin Freeman's intolerably cute Watson is pretty much the reason the show is historical-grade teevee entertainment: Sherlock is a compelling but remote archetype, the antecedent of a long line of shadowed arbiters of chaos who stand between ourselves and darkness -- but Watson is the human lens through which Sherlock's abnormal brilliance is both refracted and magnified. To that end, Sherlock's Watson is somehow both perfectly ordinary and unique. His slate is blank enough that he can serve as a Mary Sue for fanfic authors all over the internet; simultaneously, though, he's so specifically calibrated that he's really difficult to write correctly. Freeman somehow communicates his epic, melancholy good-guyness by just wandering into a scene and standing in the background wearing a slightly worried expression -- this is pretty close to being a magic trick, actually -- and his obvious appreciation of Sherlock's talent comes off looking like a natural reaction, with no hint of fantardian, zeta-male creepiness. He and Sherlock, together, form a unbroken continuity of Victorian heroism. They could be horsed. It is adorable. Uh, there were things about the show itself that I liked a lot, too, including a really neat opening-episode montage that depicted Sherlock charting the streets of London on a backlit mental map while chasing a cab, the characters' pedestrian fondness for technology, and the improbable architecture of 222B Baker Street (← ETA: BAHAHA ♥). But honestly, I think that the actors, all the actors, could've been performing on a blank stage to similar effect. I find peculiar the idea that the series is 'derivative' -- the joke there, of course, is that the "detectives" of CSI, Law & Order, and NCIS et alia have been using Sherlock Holmes's magical, science-free backwards processes of deduction to solve crimes since their inception. In this case, the origin-story is merely taking back its own territory. (Haters gonna hate.) I give the series an A-, splitting the difference between the production's solid B and the actors' A+.
(Also, Lestrade is hot.)
Yes, that was "really brief."

Anybody hiding any good anime around here anyplace? I didn't even bother to finish Hakuouki; it was becoming dangerously historical. Apparently there are some OVAs coming out this summer. Yay?

I should stop announcing my web projects months in advance, I think. Probably nobody cares, but it takes me actual non-hyperbolic years to get shit online. Right now I'm having some trouble typing up scripts, for example. I do a couple of pages and then wander off to play Angry Birds for an hour.

Links
1. Check out "The Pen," by Veda, an era-appropriate Victorian gothic romance which is hot, sweet, and actually kind of creepy. Hard to hit all those targets at once, I imagine.
2. Anybody recognize the artist for this totally NSFW picture? Looks a little like Mentaiko, but sort of not. Maybe his style is evolving.
3. These sorts of things tend to annoy me -- I have to walk past Jonathan Safran Foer's idiot new book with my hands in my pockets to stop from punching myself in the head (something at which I am fairly practiced after more than a decade of bookstore-related exposure to TokyoPop's oeuvre) -- but I think this one is really, really pretty.
4. Crows: They're like people, only not completely worthless and full of shit!
5. I haven't actually watched this yet, but everybody seems to think it is amazing.

Haven't had one of these in ages:



Also, too:



Also, I am both Tumblring and Twittering again, because usually I don't have enough material for an actual post and I'm probably also preoccupied trying to figure out if that sentence-terminal て means "please do or don't do [verb]" or "I am a mangaka who likes run-on sentences."

The end.


* The Daily Beast is profoundly retarded, but in this case we're giving it a pass.

ETA: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUYYYYY!!!
langwidere: aisling and pangur bán (you must go where i cannot)


langwidere: two characters from a gay-themed web comic embracing (melons in love)


the further a poem strays
  from the rigid, mannered conventions of antiquity —
with their obedient end-rhymes & colossal, world-girding installations of
        ceremonial metaphorical structure and formal language, the more
  likely     a
    p   o   e     m   isto
      be about
some fucking illiterate idiot/moron’s
  f         e     e     eeeeeeeeeeee
      e
    l
            i
      nnnnnnnnnnnng
          s.

Although watching this cretinous dipshit try to mope around while wearing bear legs would in fact be fairly entertaining.

This, Sekaiichi Hatsukoi ("World’s Best First Love"?) ("Gag Me In The Face"?), is the only BL anime this spring. Ew! I guess Nakamura Shungiku actually is the only BL mangaka working in Japan these days. No, really; Suzuki Tsuta lives in a wormhole in Denmark and sends all his her releases out through the coinslot in the Tardis as origami chickens. That’s why nobody can license any of his her works and animate them. I assume this is the case, anyway. It’s the only reasonable explanation I can think of.

MERRY CHECKER!!

ETA: My mom wins all of everything, because when I told her about the incipient Good Omens mini-series (FOUR HOURS LONG!!) she was like, "Oh. Only four?" And I was all, "But that’s at least two more than a movie! How many hours long do you think it should be?" And she said, "However many hours it takes to, um, act out every word in the book." Which is just rational, really.
langwidere: a john uskglass pixelbuddy (i came to my enemies in a RAIN OF QTE)
It transpires that I was somewhat busy this week, so no Sherlock for you. (Also I lost my Sherlock links; I’m pretty sure they’re around here someplace, though, cough.) Next week!

Instead, I submit to you these articles of wank, which I’ve been saving for Valentine’s Season:











1. Ew. I am not judging the book, which looks just as stupid and boring as every other book on this topic — but, I am a little worried about the ad copy, which seems to think that I am romantically desperate, fourteen, and possessed of a very short attention span.
2. Double ew. I am choosing to believe that this one is guerilla satire.

So remember, girls: Stay away from obscenely over-processed, prepackaged junk food/poison and try to maintain a strong, healthy, and athletic physique so that you will be appealing to "boys." (What "boys"? Where are these "boys"? Who are they? Presumably they are Morris Chestnut and Thelma & Louise Brad Pitt.) Because on the fucking internet it’s 1954, and the greatest psychological wound a woman could ever receive is failing to be regarded by strangers as a sex symbol. I know that these people are probably teenagers or in their very early twenties, and therefore biologically obligated to be retarded, but I am kind of offended that their obvious and twatty desire to be fap-objects is being treated as though it is an up-with-diversity, feminist grievance. Ugh. UGH.

Also I am not completely sure that any little girl would ever independently decide that she had to look like Barbie, who resembles a barrel-chested, tanned praying mantis, in order to be loved. Nor am I convinced that little boys find Barbies sexually attractive, yuck. I think that, left to their own devices, most little kids would just want to chew on Barbie’s rubbery feet. That’s what I remember doing with Barbie, most of the time.

And you aren’t allowed to be upset when your nicotine-inflected, drunk boyfriend cheats on you anymore? Really? Like, really? Because that’s going to be #16 on my 'Why Couldn’t You Make Me A Lesbian Like I Wanted, God? You Couldn’t Just Do That One Thing, Could You?' list.

My links are pretty weak-assed, too:
1. A Wonkette Reagan Beans thing. I know, but the comments are pretty funny.
2. An inspiring D.L. Hughley quote, via constantly-hysterical, horny, semi-literate Australian drama queen Yimmy Yayo (he does post some great landscape/historical/animal photos, though).
3. A deeply pathetic NYT article about the "bias" that exists against "conservatives" in the humanities. HAHAHAHAHA.

I’ll do better next time, coach!
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (no idea but real pretty)
My cat had to have one of her canine teeth pulled. Last Wednesday. The other canine tooth is beginning to loosen, too, and will have to come out sooner or later (let’s hope for "later" — I’m actually hoping to wait until it’s almost out on its own and can be yanked with forceps like the first one, because she is almost fifteen years old and has asthma and I don’t want her sedated unless there’s no other option). Of course, she was fine as soon as she got out of the cat carrier when we came from the vet’s office, and I spent four days crying intermittently because I love her to pieces and the only heirloom bequeathed to me by my bevy of Irish-American ancestors is the Sentimental Weeping Idiot gene. (The rest of her teeth are, to quote the vet, "fantastic for fifteen." So, that’s weird, probably, but really good? Please?)

Anyway. So, I still have people’s Christmas presents sitting on the piano. In the future I will invent some kind of new Christmas/Valentine’s Day hybrid celebration in order to clear my conscience in these sorts of situations. I was able to upgrade most of the cards, however. ♥

Loooooooong post. )

SOME LINKS, FOR JESUS BETTY FRIEDAN:
1. This Paul Krugman story is hilariously topped with the words "Can Europe Be Saved?" (implication: no!!!!), but it’s actually about the ill-considered adoption of the Euro. It is not interesting, but if you like that sort of thing it could be useful, potentially.
2. This is the very hilarious review of 43’s awesome novel Decision Points, by the London Review of Books. I just now noticed it exists, because it was linked by Wonkette. I am not up in the London Review of Books on the regular.
3. From The Guardian, a piece on the fiction/internets ouroboros which I have not yet finished reading myself.


These are better screenshots of my new boyfriend, who looks, upon close inspection, like he wandered out of Labyrinth, limping, after David Bowie was finished with him. I hope he will be named something like 'Valumphis Stagne.'

This season of American Idol is too boring even for my granny.

On the other hand, this is very funny.
ETA link, because the iframe wouldn’t load.

I recently learned that I am the last person in all the world who downloads fansubs. I think this is because I originally visited Crunchyroll back when it was staffed by, I surmised, photosynthetic multi-celluar plant-people who were heroically fansubbing Naruto despite the fact that they lacked formal brain structures and spoke neither English nor Japanese — and I had my delicate sensibilities offended to an extreme degree. Also, I am not paying for fansubs. Ahaha! HAHAHA! What? Really? Are you kidding me? People are paying for fansubs? Voluntarily? Why? You kids today, with your fancy bullet trains and your Lawrence Welk records and your super-sweet iced tea.

Is that it? I think that’s it.

Next week: Sherlock! Probably. (And the Kindle.)
langwidere: a cintia dicker editorial (diet coke makes you beautiful)
I can’t get my Kindle to work. Well, I mean, I can get it to work, but I don’t know what it’s doing. I have somehow managed to use it to purchase The Collected Works of Jane Austen, though, so that’s probably not a good sign.

I made this with IOGraph:



It is cool!

Here is a link to the sort of competent, even-handedly critical movie review I am incapable of producing — in this case, specifically because I had no idea any of this stuff was happening at any level of the text. Deep down in my doughty Amurrkin heart I honestly do not believe that there are now (nor were there ever) people in the world who are analogous to Malfoys. To me, the Malfoy family are figures of such uniquely baroque, decorative absurdity that I have little use for them beyond watching fan-authors play Barbie games with their dirty parts. Anyway, this essay is really, really excellent, and I even liked Cristopher Hitchens's linked review, which is nearly miraculous given its origins.

(Hitchens is the world-class dickhead/idiot who wrote that deplorable article in Vanity Fair about how women aren't funny, because of the Holy Uteri, or something, and horseshoe teeth. I later saw the interview he gave to Charlie Rose about his cancer/latest autobiography, and alas! He did not come off as the uncomplicated doucheface I was expecting to see. I mean, he is politically sophomoric, and he loves Tony Blair and he hates Bill Clinton and he believes in 'honor' [?] and in the notion that war is something the Big Boys simply must do when called upon by destiny to liberate the downtrodden, whether the downtrodden are into it or not, which aaaaaaaaaagh. Aaaagh, man. But! While I still would not want him on my Quiz Bowl team, I'm not as interested in seeing him publicly defenestrated.) (Also he is a famous and irascible atheist, which is kind of cute.)

This review, which describes and then demolishes the unwatchableness of the Watchmen movie, is also the sort of thing I am incapable of producing. Mostly because I lack, um — stamina? That's the one.

(I think that Watchmen is unfilmable because it is already more or less a dismantled movie, presented shot-for-shot in the guise of a comic book, and it can go just that far and no farther without becoming something very unlike itself — so "filming" Watchmen, as such, is a bit like trying to make a movie out of, like, real life crime-scene photos. Or this. It already happened!)

January is National Appreciate Some People Who Are Way Smarter Than You Month, though, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to show a little love.

Oh! Also, too — speaking of admirable smart people, Helen posted a new fic! It's alternative-universe baby Kirk/Spock, but I don't see why that should stand in the way of your enjoying it as much as I did.
FUN FACT: The very first slash fanfic I ever read, way back in, like, 1998, was Kirk/Spock. It was not quite so good as this one, let me tell you. I think they had sex, at one point, on the bridge. And giggling may have been involved (not mine) :[



SOME LINKS, JUST BECAUSE:
1. I would shank a bitch to get to see this. Arcadia is my favorite play.
2. Weird, but funny.
3. This Is My Taste In Women: Socially-acceptable proxies of naked WASPy teenaged boys, with freckles! Looking at that many photos of anemic, nekkid white chix will give you snowblindness, dude. Also: Gross!
4. SPEAKING OF WHICH: ALSO VERY FUNNY. THE END.

Now I'm going to stop posting every 48 hours and go back to the naked-man comics. Don't cry, don't cry! You'll ruin your make-up.

ETA: YAAAAAAAAY!! (h/t The Brit List)
langwidere: aisling and pangur bán (you must go where i cannot)
I don’t want to talk about Christmas right now, because it was a little depressing, and right now I am ENRAGED. WHY AM I ENRAGED, YOU ASK? WELL, THIS IS WHY. I THINK YOU DONE JUST SLAPPED ALL THE CUSSWORDS RIGHT OUT MY MOUTH, THE BBC. SHIT.

Here is a physical representation of my boredom, in HTML code, with musical numbers:
(It doesn't have musical numbers.)
Too bored to think up cut text. )

Lastly, many really awesome and apparently insane people visit my website!



In other news! IN OTHER NEWS, Legolas will appear in The Hobbit, which is only right and fitting given that part of the story takes place in Mirkwood, and he is the prince of that country. (Haha, I have been reading Narnia! Can you tell?) I am deeply alarmed by the fact that McKellen hasn’t signed on to be Gandalf again, however, and I will probably stampede later. All by myself. For great justice.

Please, man. Gandalf is the closest a dork will ever get to having a personal relationship with God.
You have to!
langwidere: watanuki and doumeki from xxxholic linking arms (death becomes you)
ONCE UPON A TIME, when I was first into Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell five or so years ago, I went, like, fullmetal Yorkshire for several consecutive months. This was very tragic, but also hilarious, so good times, kind of. When I was Yorkshiring to beat the band, I made a kind of cake called a "lardy cake," which I read in a book somewhere people in Yorkshire used to eat a lot during the 19th century. Probably not, whatever. Not important. The important part is that, despite the fact that lard is the most disgusting substance known to man, lardy cake is really, really delicious. So, I made many lardy cakes, and then (coincidentally?) I got really, really sick, found out I couldn’t eat wheat, and cried a lot because I am a sissyass-baby lady who really likes pasta. Since then, I have found equally good or even better replacements for most of the foods I used to like (especially pasta!), but no matter what I could not make a gluten-free lardy cake. My first attempt was appropriated by the Department of Defense for use in counter-terrorism measures, because it was dense enough to qualify as a murder weapon. My next three attempts fell apart. The next one tasted like sand with dried fruit in it. After that, I made one that was so sticky that it appeared to have been mixed together with glue. I made several more attempts, all of which were memorably inedible for different but very heart-breaking reasons. Then I gave up (and cried a little bit). Then, just last week, my mother said: "Maybe the problem is the way you’re baking it? Gluten-free baked goods don’t usually do well in deep, narrow baking pans." And I thought: HALLELUJAH! YOU HAVE A POINT THERE, MOM! And then I got out a couple of gluten-free cookbooks, mixed up some recipes, and invented these things.

They are lardy cupcakes.

CAVEAT #1: Possibly you should not take dietary advice from a person whose vitamin D level was recently 9? (Out of 40-50.)

CAVEAT #2: I have made, like, sixty-three batches of the lardy cupcakes in the last two weeks. I even made a "vegetarian" version with Crisco, soy yoghurt, and egg replacer for my little teenage cousins, who have recently become obstreperous vegetarians. These will work with any kind of fat that is solid at room temperature, including (probably) coconut oil. Also, they are not very good for you. Just saying.

CAVEAT #3: These cupcakes contain oat flour, which doesn’t give me trouble — even my mother, who has a hardcore wheat allergy (her airways begin swelling shut the minute she eats even a little wheat) can eat these — but it might bother you, especially if you are a true celiac. If you can’t eat oats, any other robust, crunchy gluten-free grain would probably work, but I haven’t tested any others yet.

CAVEAT #4: These are not proper lardy cakes, which are not iced and which are actually a kind of yeast bread.

Recipe & photos below cut! )

If you have a wheat- or gluten-intolerant friend or relative who has resigned her or himself to eating only plain chocolate and candy canes at Christmas, and you make that person these cupcakes, they will, I promise, suddenly like you a whole lot more. Possibly they will even attempt to have you canonized. The world looks like a much happier place when viewed from behind a Christmas cupcake :]