proustbot: (liz)
I.


This morning, Veronica boarded the bus at an earlier stop than usual.

"Yeah, I was walking M's dog," he said. "But right when I handed him off to my wife to take home, he managed to find an big chicken bone on the ground and eat it."

"Ah," I said.

"That's not good, right?"

"Ah, well, no, but--"

"I mean, my wife is watching him."

"Sure. I mean, in your shoes I would probably google 'what to do when dog eats chicken bone,' but of course you'd probably get a lot of alarmist advice..."

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm going to text my wife."

From the corner of my eye, I observed the beginnings of a guilt spiral.

"Or you could just call M's vet. I'm sure they get questions like this all the time. They'd give you some expert opinions."

"Yeah. My wife isn't responding. Maybe she didn't see the text? I'm going to call her."

A pause.

"Hey, sweetheart. Have you considered calling the vet? This was the suggestion from Proust...who is shaking her head, because she doesn't want to be a part of this."

II.


I told Veronica the story of Gosling and Lockwood.

ME: "I told Vidalia about it. And then I had to forbid him from e-mailing Gosling to ask him about his new best friend."

VERONICA: [laughing] "Vidalia! That's not how gossip works! You don't go straight to the source like that. Or maybe it speaks well of Vidalia. Maybe he just doesn't understand how gossip works."

ME: "Because he's never experienced it before? Oh, man, I don't think that was it, but it's an amazing theory."

VERONICA: "In high school, me and my friends never gossiped. We just said terrible things to one another's faces. I called it 'front-stabbing.'"

III.


At work, Gosling had fled without notice, leaving behind a project that he had been given only because it was the only thing he could be trusted not to fuck up.

As such, I was somewhat suspicious when my boss, cajoling me into taking on the project, explained that I was "patient" and "detail-oriented" and so perfectly suited for said project.

"Ah, yes," I said slowly, "People often say that I'm...detail-oriented..."

Later, after I expressed some confusion to the sub-boss, she laughed and said, "Well, yesterday when she said that she was going to assign you to that thing, she said it was because you were 'persnickety.'"

"I'm persnickety?" I said. "What about Veronica?!"

"Hey, hey, I'm sensing some hostility here," Veronica said.

"It's just, out of the two of us, when one person finds an error in the catalogue, one of us just shrugs and keeps on trucking, and the other is all, 'Oh, no, we have to fix this entry, everything has to be perfect.'"

IV.


At lunch, my boss asked us about a mysterious restaurant "coming soon" that has been advertised on the side of a new building for the past six months, and Veronica waited the perfect amount of time before he said, "We'll just have to keep hoping that it'll be a Cracker Barrel."

V.


Many hours later, Vidalia asked me how my stuff was going, and I told him at manic length, and he nodded sagely and said, "Well, I'm glad to see the flood gates have opened."
proustbot: (lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos)
Yesterday I did 9 pomodoros (in which I wrote morning pages, wrote ~300 words, synthesized my sacrament notes, and starting speeding through HC's letters).

Then I got suckered into a friendship obligation and spent $10 on a beer and mozzarella sticks.

Current Tally: $29

This morning I went into work to assist my sub-boss in stuffing envelopes, and then I came home and slumped around and did nothing productive. Blergh! I was supposed to go to a friendship obligation this evening, but I'm bailing in the hopes of actually getting some writing and/or laundry done instead. (Blergh!)

I also went through ao3's tag for Riverdale; there is a lot of not-very-good stuff on there. (And a couple of brilliant femslash stories.)

A story about Gosling: Lockwood reports that she tried to hang out with Gosling, but he's being too cool for school and the one time they got a drink, it mostly involved Gosling playing with his phone and ignoring her. Understandably, he's now dead to Lockwood. BUT the ironic twist is that Lockwood ran into him at a protest last weekend. Lockwood was with a friend and a friend-of-a-friend, who is a famous figure in our industry. As soon as Gosling recognized him, suddenly it was "LOCKWOOD, MY DEAREST FRIEND!"

Understandably, he is now double-dead to Lockwood.

A story about Veronica: J. vaguely referenced a recent injury, and I betrayed some knowledge of that injury. "How did you know about that?" she squealed. I tried to indicate C., but J. was already saying, "Oh, I know. It must have been Veronica. Because I told him about it, and then I asked if he was going to tell anyone, and he said he wouldn't tell anyone, but he would tell you, because he tells you everything." ("Okay," I managed to finally get in, "but, once again, he didn't tell me...")

He came in a little later and had a morose conversation with me. "I have to go," he said at last. "I'm too hyper." He was, as far as I could tell, being completely serious.
proustbot: (led by your beating heart)
GOSLING: "When I go, I'm going to join a CrossFit gym."

ME: "Isn't that an oxymoron? Isn't the point of CrossFit that you don't need a gym?"

GOSLING: "...yeah, that's what I like about you, man. You keep me honest."

ME: "Hey, I just don't want you to fall prey to some dude's unlicensed venture. Like that time in Philadelphia when you found that bar that was just an unmarked door next to a dumpster leading into basement? And the name of the bar was 'Cum Dumpster'? And we never found out if it was an actual bar or just somebody's basement? Same thing with this CrossFit 'gym,' buddy!"

Schedule, My Schedule )
proustbot: (young and drinking in the park)
This morning is the morning that I am waking up in sleepy leisure in my childhood bed, rather than staggering awake in the dark and throwing all my shit in my backpack and running for the airport.

(That joy awaits next week.)

Let's do the year in review quiz, kids.

2016: Everyone bought champagne for mimosas, and no one brought orange juice, and there's a metaphor in there somewhere. )
proustbot: (Our sole remaining neighbor was the sky)
I.

The other day, I was going through some old stuff, and I found a birthday card from Veronica & Spouse from last year. The latter's contribution to the card was normal and uplifting; the former's contribution was a sly, rambling mock-diatribe.

At the bottom, he included a final line in ominous lettering: "P.S. We are your friends."

II.

We were pedaling exercise-bikes at the gym, and I was complaining to Gosling about a long ago time, when Wife A was attempting to reassure a friend that I wasn't mad at said-friend right when I was in the middle of castigating said-friend.

"It was, like, read the fucking room," I huffed. "Obviously I am angry; stop telling her that I'm not angry and it's all okay."

"Uh-huh," Gosling said.

"It's like her whole thing for managing people," I said. "And if there's one thing I hate, it's being managed."

Gosling glanced at me. "Uh, yeah," he said, carefully deadpan. "I think that's something pretty well-known about you, dude. Nobody who knows you would ever try to manage you."

I peered at him suspiciously.

proustbot: (young and drinking in the park)
Three years ago, I did one of those little "year in review" questionnaires that used to be all the rage. Today, it amused me to fill it out again re: 2015, the little year that could.

2015 in Review )
proustbot: (young and drinking in the park)
Me and How I Met Your Mother )

How I Met Your Mother 1x01-1x03: Pilot, Purple Giraffe, and Sweet Taste of Liberty )

Um, this got longer than I thought it would. What can I say? I like How I Met Your Mother.
proustbot: (Default)
GOSLING: [coming into the kitchen] "Oh, are you chopping up cheese or butter for that salad?"

ME: [sarcastically] "Butter, obviously."

GOSLING: [oblivious to the sarcasm] "Tasty!"

And then I made fun of him for the rest of the day. (Although I shouldn't be surprised. Despite having the body of a Greek god, Gosling refuses to eat vegetables and has only a dim idea of how salads work.)

Crossroads of Twilight, Nightingale Wood, and New Spring )
proustbot: (Floreat Etona)
I.

[after going on a defriending spree on Facebook]
THE DUDE: "I mean, sure. Sometimes I feel a little bad when I defriend dead people."

II.

[the opening line from a student paper]
"Besides just sitting and smoking a cigar in almost every image of him, Winston Churchill proved to be a very, very influential person."

III.

THORNTON: "I have a long and illustrious career in the great art of badminton."

IV.

[in the aftermath of a party, as we drunkenly sprawl in our living room]
GOSLING: "So he says he studies Material Science, and N. asks him what that comprises, and then he...oh god...he looks at us and he goes, 'Materials. Your shirt. This table. This house. Trees. That's what I study.' It was the worst, man. The worst."

ME: "What are you talking about? That answer is awesome. That is my new answer for when people ask me what I study."
proustbot: (Mendou Shutaro)
Hey, guys, remember when we were all fourteen-years old and filling out quiz-memes on our LiveJournals?

Let's return to those times!!1 )
proustbot: (Our sole remaining neighbor was the sky)
[text messages between me and my roommate]

GOSLING: "I forgot my keys! If you're around at 2, can you let me into the apartment?"

ME: "I'll take care of you, baby ;)"

GOSLING: "Such a nice wife. I'm putting you into the good binder when I get home."
proustbot: (walk of shame/terror)
GOSLING: "Hey, do you want to come to [a fabulous gay club] on Wednesday?"

ME: "Well, I would...but Wednesday night is my board-game night."

GOSLING: "I think we can just take Settlers of Catan into the club...?"

OTHER FRIEND: "Dude, no, we cannot."
proustbot: (Floreat Etona)
I.


GOSLING: [to me] "I realized last night that I've never left your house sober."

II.


ME: "So I've decided to crash your seminar this semester!"

SIMON: [deadpan] "Oh, good. It'll add a nice 'I do what I want' element to the conversation."

III.


WIFE E: "They're words from World War I. Made-up words! Words of convenience! Words that dying men scream from the trenches!"

IV.


FORMER ROOMMATE: "You're coming to visit me, right? Remember: what happens in Spain stays in Spain. If you know what I mean."

ME: "Does that mean we can kill a man with impunity?"

FORMER ROOMMATE: "Yes. Just like that singer whose song you're always quoting when I ask you personal questions! Like, 'Do you have any secrets you want to tell me,' and you say, 'Well, this one time in Reno...'"
proustbot: (Butterfly)
We went to see Real Steel tonight, because we had a hankering for boxing robots. I gather that Wellington was somewhat underwhelmed, but I thought it was probably as good a robot-boxing movie as has ever been made. Also, I was sitting between Gosling and P., and we giggled like school-girls throughout it.

Two immortal lines:

"No, no. The money's gone. I used it to buy a robot."

"What? Did you think that you, me, and the robot were just going to ride off into the sunset together?"

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