Cheesy toast

There are few things in life more nice than coming home and wipping up a batch of toast with melted cheese. *happysigh*

I came across a scene from an unpublished fic of mine. Bernice Summerfield and Kitty Pryde, boozing it up in some London pub. Maybe I'll finish it, someday, since it was rather silly. Of course, there's always the earlier version which started with two one-sided conversations. One between Benny and Pete. The other between Kitty and Jason. *snicker*

Was fun to write, I'll admit.

Speaking of writing, I have GOT to come up with a thing to write for Ryssa's zine. I keep getting wierd ideas of cats made out of validium. Since, if my checking is correct, no one's actually written anything further on the 'living metal'... Hrm.

I can see it now....

Cyber Leader: Resistance is useless.

SilverCats: Meow.

Cyber Leader: Explain.

SilverCats: Mrrroow.

Cyber Leader: You will come with us.

SilverCats: Meow.


Etc. It might even end with the Cyber Leader getting bored and shooting the cats. Bad move, of course... Might end the universe.

Hrm.

Must go to bed soon. Have to get up and go to the bank and stuff in the morning. Sigh. I hate not having my own car.

Let's see if this one works. ~_~

Well. I've posted a few times, they've apparently been eaten. Fucking maintenance.

Happynews: I'm off tomorrow
Unhappy: I work tonight, midnight-8am. Ick.

I also finished Life, the Universe and Everything on the Metrolink this afternoon. Tee.hee. Good book.

Speaking of my afternoon trip home... Fucking baseball fans. You should all be living in the city if you want to go see the games so much. You are the people who are constantly decrying the city, and REFUSING to help create more Metrolink lines, more bus lines, etc. But you also go to games and watch stupid men throw a fucking ball around.

Hypocrites.

Crowding MY ride home. Making it so *I* stand up, when you're all going to go sit on your asses for hours.

Now, me, I'm going home so I can relax from having to run around in this humidity and heat.

Fuckheads.

-=-

In other news... There's a passage from LtUaE that I've typed up. I was giggling first because of the potatoes (since Kale ruined them for me forever)... Then I realised that, in a way, this sort of echoes everyone I know in fandom. Especially the last line.

';';';';';';
It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.

For instance, there was once an insanely aggressive race of people called the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax. That was just the name of their race. The name of their army was something quite horrific. Luckily they lived even further back in Galactic history than anything we have so far encountered--twenty billion years ago--when the Galaxy was young and fresh, and every idea worth fighting for was a new one.

And fighting was what the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax were good at, and being good at it, they did it a lot. They fought their enemies (i.e., everybody else), they fought each other. Their planet was a complete wreck. The surface was littered with abandoned cities that were surrounded by abandoned war machines, which were in turn surrounded by deep bunkers in which the Silastic Armorfiends lived and squabbled with each other.

The best way to pick a fight with a Silastic Armorfiend of Striterax was just to be born. They didn't like it, they got resentful. And when an Armorfiend got resentful, someone got hurt. An exhausting way of life, one might think, but they did seem to have an awful lot of energy. The best way of dealing with a Silastic Armorfiend was to put him in a room on his own, because sooner or later he would simply beat himself up.

Eventually, they realized that this was something they were going to have to sort out, and they passed a law decreeing that anyone who had to carry a weapon as part of his normal Silastic work (policemen, security guards, primary school teachers, etc.) had to spend at least forty-five minutes every day [unching a sack of potatoes in order to work off his or her surplus aggression.

For a while, this worked well, until someone thought that it would be much more efficient and less time-consuming if they just shot the potatoes instead.

This led to a renewed enthusiasm for shooting all sorts of things, and they all got very excited at the prospect of their first major war for weeks.
';';';';
excerpt, written by Douglas Adams.

Yes. The last line, especially.

Funny... I keep hearing people talk about the Good Old Days, like they were some kind of mecca. Bullshit. Fandom has ALWAYS been diverse, AND divisive. It's inevitable. We aren't all the same person.

Duh.

There is always going to be conflict.

In a way, I've got to admit I'm glad there is. Where would we be if we all agreed all the time?

Android heaven.