On Poorly Designed Fanfic Archives and Poorly Implemented Spanish Food

Sometimes I want to rip out their html with my teeth. Who told you to put a nonscrolling background of your crappy fanart under the text? Whoooooo? I remember a halcyon childhood time when hardcore fanfic archives were embarassing because of their content, not their design! What I wouldn't give to be 12 again.

World Cup angst. Wtf, Italy, did your greasy ass ooze into victory yet again? Have they let you all onto the Olympic Diving Team yet?

Tomates Fritos Verdes at Fosters of Hollywood-- predictably horrifying. Diped one into accompanying white cream only to discover this was, in fact, MAYO, and not sour cream. My baked potato came with a spoon in it. Why?

Also, the Spanish and I disagree fundamentally on the term medium rare. I intended to order something with a lightly pink interior. I'm fairly sure my burger was in fact still alive. At one point it might have mooed at me. Also, bacon is, well, bacon, not long gelatinous strips of something vaguly porcine. Attempts to order a cheap milkshake produced the Spanish Yoohoo drink that had been hiding for so long. I sort of wish I could banish it back there.

My waiter had the scraggly, braid ready hair of an apprentice toreror at the nearby academy. That's when it's cut short except for this wierd silky mullet thing that you can braid, a sort of restrained boozeless office party in the back, a braid being the caste mark of the profession, cut off at retirement and braided into a tight little knob only for matches. It's like a Padawan braid, really, but dumber looking. I wasn't sure but the bouncing and tendency to direct people places with flickering wrist motions kind of gives it away. I think I am the ONLY person in the neighborhood who doesn't rely on the Plaza as my source of income. It's kind of funny when you have to second job it at the American theme restraunt, though.

Didn't go to class today, woke up last night to the skin on top of my ear comming off and perfectly circular self-contained balls of blood like mercury drupping down, then it covering itself so fast it froze in the shape of those balls with my hair still in it, and I had to get my hair out so it'd heal right and the bleeding started again, and between than and female indisposition I was just like, fuck you class. I have no idea what the fuck was up, but I band-aided the sucker and am as normal as I ever am again. Theres no way a wound could have clotted that fast. Is my secret x power hyper platelet production? MAN that's a lame x power.

Why does the apathetic blob look kinda happy about it?

Under the lj cut is Blonde! me, and some other Sevilla stuff.

( Read more... )

On Poorly Designed Fanfic Archives and Poorly Implemented Spanish Food

Sometimes I want to rip out their html with my teeth. Who told you to put a nonscrolling background of your crappy fanart under the text? Whoooooo? I remember a halcyon childhood time when hardcore fanfic archives were embarassing because of their content, not their design! What I wouldn't give to be 12 again.

World Cup angst. Wtf, Italy, did your greasy ass ooze into victory yet again? Have they let you all onto the Olympic Diving Team yet?

Tomates Fritos Verdes at Fosters of Hollywood-- predictably horrifying. Diped one into accompanying white cream only to discover this was, in fact, MAYO, and not sour cream. My baked potato came with a spoon in it. Why?

Also, the Spanish and I disagree fundamentally on the term medium rare. I intended to order something with a lightly pink interior. I'm fairly sure my burger was in fact still alive. At one point it might have mooed at me. Also, bacon is, well, bacon, not long gelatinous strips of something vaguly porcine. Attempts to order a cheap milkshake produced the Spanish Yoohoo drink that had been hiding for so long. I sort of wish I could banish it back there.

My waiter had the scraggly, braid ready hair of an apprentice toreror at the nearby academy. That's when it's cut short except for this wierd silky mullet thing that you can braid, a sort of restrained boozeless office party in the back, a braid being the caste mark of the profession, cut off at retirement and braided into a tight little knob only for matches. It's like a Padawan braid, really, but dumber looking. I wasn't sure but the bouncing and tendency to direct people places with flickering wrist motions kind of gives it away. I think I am the ONLY person in the neighborhood who doesn't rely on the Plaza as my source of income. It's kind of funny when you have to second job it at the American theme restraunt, though.

Didn't go to class today, woke up last night to the skin on top of my ear comming off and perfectly circular self-contained balls of blood like mercury drupping down, then it covering itself so fast it froze in the shape of those balls with my hair still in it, and I had to get my hair out so it'd heal right and the bleeding started again, and between than and female indisposition I was just like, fuck you class. I have no idea what the fuck was up, but I band-aided the sucker and am as normal as I ever am again. Theres no way a wound could have clotted that fast. Is my secret x power hyper platelet production? MAN that's a lame x power.

Why does the apathetic blob look kinda happy about it?

Under the lj cut is Blonde! me, and some other Sevilla stuff.

( Read more... )