Baron Von Poopypants

jexia @ 8:44pm: Go go gadget "uncapped speed"



ETA: ( AHAHAHAHA )

jexia @ 7:38pm: Grocery fail
Seen at the supermarket: someone driving away with half a bag of chips sticking out of the boot.

evillilkitten @ 3:11pm: Catching Up
This past weekend, Ella was surprisingly well-behaved on the train. It helped that most riders on the B line are generally oblivious to the world outside their phones, books, or ipods.

In Beacon Hill, we stumbled along narrow cobblestone alleys, ruining shoes I had no business wearing peeking into windows of million-dollar townhomes. I can't imagine living in a several-story house that shares walls with other houses and dumps you onto a cramped, sloping street. The entire thought of not having any yard space is so foreign to me, even after years of living in apartments.

And yet, for an area so close to downtown, it was eerily quiet, more than your average suburban neighborhood.

James and I were amused that the cars parked outside these famously expensive homes were practical: a fuckton of Cooper minis and piece of shit cars. (If you have ever lived in or seen a crowded place like Boston, you'd understand. That James and I have off-street parking is nothing short of a^we_so^me [I hate myself a little for doing that].)

We trekked back through the Garden and crossed the Lagoon and found ourselves on Comm Ave. Comm Ave by our place is tire-shreddingly ghetto fabulous. Comm Ave by the Garden is quiet and divided by a wide grassy mall that features statues of famous people, American and otherwise.

James had the bright idea of treating me to Quiznos, so we went back on the C line with the intent of just walking the mile back north to the apartment. We were kicked off the train once it got above ground because they were working on the tracks, blah. So we wound up walking all the way down Beacon Street to Coolidge Corner, and then back home.

All said and done, we walked some 4 miles. Ella pretty much went immediately to sleep.

( Girly Shiznit )

I finally watched Knocked Up. Kinda cute, kinda irritating at the same time.

The ending killed it for me. I pretty much freaked out when I saw the baby's head crown, and by "freak out" I mean I crawled into the fetal position and sobbed as James stared at me in bewilderment.

The scene conjured all manner of horrifying mental images of tears as a natural consequence of squeezing out a watermelon through a hole the size of a lemon. Holy jesus fuck nature is terrifying and cruel. That my mother did it three times, and my grandmother, what, 11? 12? times amazes me. kjsdhfjsdhfjksdhf

ON AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT TOPIC...Just got back from my interview. Went well. Dunno what to think, really.

On the way home, got called by a bill collector. Apparently we owe money to Monterra because they replaced the carpet. Even though the bill we got a month or so ago has a stamp that says "Amount Owed $0". *boggle*

James is freaking out about his credit rating. I'm not that worried yet, but we'll see after I return this guy's call.

evillilkitten @ 2:29am: Saving the Galaxy, Slaughtering Armies, and Shitting on Sidewalks
Thursday morning, I got a call. HR from HBSP wanted to discuss my application.

After the chat, she emailed me asking me to come in Tuesday for a proper interview with the foreign rights people.

I'm elated, to say the least, though it dawned me as we spoke on the phone that I can't really consider this an internship. It's not. They're looking for temporary, part-time help.

This presupposes that I walk on the job knowing what the fuck I'm doing, ha ha?

After 33ish hours of playtime, James and I finished Mass Effect. 15 of those hours were spent driving a fucking vehicle over fucking mountains to fucking harvest quest items in fucking environments where the physics were TOO good.

BUT...the remaining hours spent on propelling the plot were most excellent. We were surprised that we had to sacrifice one of our people (was a choice between one of the love interests or "Bionic Chachi"). Of course, Chachi had to go. He had stupid hair and the most uninteresting backstory. We were rewarded with absurd innuendo involving Walt Whitman and a sex scene, hooray!

Kinda sucks how short the game was. The only thing adding to its replay value is the dialog. We were Alliance goodie two-shoes this play-through, but next time I'll play an asshole.

For now, though, we started Lost Odyssey. The game opened up with your protag being a certifiable badass.

No, seriously.

He takes on a fucking army. ARMY. Your "tutorial" on how to fight is the game just forcing you to one-shot all these guys and then single-handedly hack down a giant blade-swinging robot.

And then, a giant truffle crashes in the middle of the battlefield, dumping lava on everyone.

I have no idea how my guy survives this, let alone maintain the pristine whiteness of his stomach-baring suit of badassery, but the game actually starts with you picking your way through the remains. We didn't get far, James having normal sleeping hours and all.

Tomorrow, we'll be performing a grand experiment: we're taking Ella on the train. Our destination is Louisburg Square in Beacon Hill. I dunno why James is trying to depress us by wanting to explore one of the richest neighborhoods of the nation but I comfort myself with the thought of letting Ella shit on their sidewalks out of spite.

I started The Gun Seller. Yay!

evillilkitten @ 3:31am: Work Woes and a Flesh Wallet
After last-minute agonizing, I emailed the editor my research. It's not complete, as I'm still waiting on email responses, but for all intents, it's done.

I feel like I just handed in a paper. It may have left my hands, so to speak, but I'm still reorganizing and rethinking and revisiting the damn thing.

Rant

In RunningPressland, it was a pretty clear-cut project: find out when the paper was published and whether it's in the public domain; in the event it's still protected, find out who to contact for permissions.

In Karenland, it was one of the most ill-defined and incomplete assignments I've had in years. I'd like to think I consistently meet or exceed expectations. Taking this self-assessment to be true, what does it say about this project if I constantly wonder why I'm doing something beyond my instructions, something that should've been taken care of by the author/editor?

I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with a citation for a German journal? News flash: making the title English does not magically translate the article.

And when I ask you for your sources for translations, why would you think Googling would suffice? If I can email your ass, I can Google. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can find the pictures of you humping a stuffed rabbit that your lover swore would never see the light of day search the internet better than you. True story.

And P.S.: when you're pulling from international sources with the express purpose of finding free material, it's probably best to consult a lawyer who specializes in IP for those jurisdictions. Just sayin'.

/Rant

A few hours ago, I was thinking that, frustrations aside, this project is brilliant: the fact that, in all my research, I have yet to find an anthology that remotely compares to this one is a strong indication that this book might actually fill a niche.

But James had to use logic: "Maybe such an anthology doesn't exist because it's a headache to gather all the materials, as you have demonstrated."

Touché, good sir.

And while I'm on anxiety, no response from "Hahvid" yet.

...

I'm sitting on the couch with Ella beside me. She is sprawled on her back, in true overheated dog fashion, and has made the unfortunate decision to put her ass closest to me. It's creeping me out because I'm an inch away from her little feminine flaps that collectively resemble a paper football.

evillilkitten @ 1:48am: Foreign Rights and Aliens
Friday, I got an email from the school advertising an "immediate opening" in the foreign rights department at Harvard Business School Press.

HBSP, if you'll remember, is the press that broke my heart last fall with a "sorry, we went with someone else".

Nevertheless, I am cautiously optimistic.

Me? Optimistic? Inconceivable!

Well, I've found myself in a string of serendipitous situations: first, the contracts position at Perseus was thrust upon me; then, my boss in contracts recommended me for freelance work with Running Press; now, as I wrap up things for RP, I feel the timing is good to find another job at another place: enter HBSP's "immediate opening". It's like...fate. Or something.

Then there's the small fact that I think I have a lot to recommend me. I've miraculously pulled off four publishing gigs in less than a year, and two of my most recent activities are tangentially related to foreign rights.

*sigh* It's a meandering route to editorial, but I'll take it. Especially because this one pays (I think) and might be extended into the fall semester.

I got the email around noon and replied with an updated resume and cover letter by four. The response I got back was an "Out of Office" notification, much to my chagrin. She's supposed to be back Tuesday, so... Here's hoping I get a call sometime tomorrow?

I'm anxious to earn money. Thanks to my full load next semester, and higher tuition, I actually OWE money this time around. =/ Then there's the small fact that I am desperate to participate in some form of extra-curricular publishing experience each semester, regardless of what the experience may be.

I guess my thought is that everything is relevant, especially if I want to be an agent, as it seems to be the most well-rounded of all possible publishing jobs. But if I don't land in an agency immediately after college, maybe I can get an internship, if not this fall, next spring. It could help me segue into editorial at a publisher. I have every intent of inquiring at all the local agencies, regardless of whether they take on interns. They shouldn't hate me for my ambition and enthusiasm, and if they do, they're dickbags, because only a bag of dicks would turn down free labor.

I must admit, my money woes are complicated by a recent splurge at BBY: since James foot the bill for the new furniture, I bought us an Xbox360 Elite (i.e., it's "elite" because it's black, has 120gb of HD space, comes WITH the hdmi cable, and costs an arm, leg, and box of ovaries).

We loaded up on RPGs, which felt strange because we always considered the Xbox the fratboy console and the PS the "obsessive gamer" console, and then swore we'd support Sony when developers actually started making good games for the PS3.

All that said, we popped in Mass Effect, just to see what it looked like, and wound up putting Legend of Dragoon on hold, hah. Like KOTOR, the story's compelling, and the graphics are gorgeous. (The default model for John Shepard = hunk. Too bad for James that the women either look like Elian Gonzalez or, well, aliens.)

The only REAL gripe I think he has (he's manning the controls for this game) is the fact he's playing an FPS on a console. The bottom line is that the camera is fucking annoying, especially when you have to manually tweak it while using every other fucking button to manage your toon and your comrades in battle. And I think he was also having probs strafing.

Nevertheless, I like it a lot. I'm really hoping for a twist though. I like my epics to have elements of mystery (which is why Star Wars could never really capture my imagination the way it has with everyone else in the frickin' world).

Coming back to books, I'm semi-annoyed that James read Hugh Laurie's The Gun Seller before me. I was really looking forward to it. After Wednesday, I should have more free time to devote to my stacks of unread books. I think.

evillilkitten @ 2:11am: Lame.
George Carlin died.

Rest in peace, funnyman: