Doo-be doo-be doooo....
Yes, speaking of ships...well, actually I wasn't, but I am now...I have a whole bunch of random nonsense to spout.
First, thoughts about slash as prompted by recent blogly controversy. I don't usually read it -- or any fic, come to that -- unless it's bloody brilliant, and I can't think of any compelling reason to write it...except for one ship. Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that Jack Nicholson had FAR more chemistry with Greg Kinnear than with Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets? I mean, I love that movie, but I just cannot, cannot believe in the unlikely romance between Melvin and Carol. Sorry. She's like his babysitter or his special-ed teacher, or some other female authority figure who won't take his crap and who eventually helps him turn his life around, but his lover? Eurgh. It doesn't help me that I personally find Jack Nicholson creepy anyway. But honestly, watching Melvin and Simon bicker and fight over the dog and help each other out of their crises, I can't help thinking they'd make a more balanced match than Melvin and Carol. In my mind's shipping eye, I see Melvin and Carol breaking up rather quickly and Carol swooping out with the stinger, "Why don't you sleep with Simon?" Yeah, Melvin. Why not? You know you want to. But I'm not going to write that story. Why? Because I could care less about seeing any of them sexually fulfilled -- I could care less, but not much. There's a reason why that movie's called As Good As It Gets.
Second bit of random nonsense. Yes, I have added another TV show to my list, God help me: Giles the Vampire Slayer's Watcher...oops, I meant Buffy. And as with any fandom, have promptly discovered a ship I would never have come up with myself, though subsequently it appears obvious that someone would: Buffy/Giles. Oy. Oy, oy, oy vey. I do not know that I could bring myself to read even a good B/G fic; there's a wrongness to it that Harry/Hermione doesn't even begin to approach. Jessica just finished this huge B/G fic that took her like a day to read, and then described it to me, and I told her I was confirmed in my opinion that Buffy/Giles is Just Not Right. "I do, however, approve wholeheartedly of the Lisa/Giles ship," I added, and she laughed.
Which brings me to real life, and Valentine's Day. Yes, ladies and jellyspoons, it's that time of year again. I used to be cynical about it, but have now lost the will to waste my zingers on this holiday. After all, why knock a holiday that is second only to Christmas and Halloween for producing great candy? I don't count Easter candy because Easter candy is mostly gross. Once I got over my Moaning Myrtle phase, I got into the phase of giving everybody valentines instead of waiting for everybody to give them to me. In recent times, however, I have finally gotten the drift that every adult eventually gets about Valentine's Day: it's about sex. No, I mean really. Try not to be too shocked. To explain my take on this -- aspect? -- of the holiday, I'll take you back to seventh grade. My friends and I were busily accusing one another of wearing large bras and liking young X, Y, or Z. To illustrate our adventures in school, we drew cartoons depicting ourselves in various situations -- very postmodern in the way that only seventh-graders can be. In one of these cartoons, my friend Heather depicted another friend, Diann, proudly walking into school one morning with a distended belly. "That must have been some date with Darin," the cartoon-Heather said. Other romantic imbroglios were taking place in the background, and off to the side was me, sitting in a school desk with a notebook and a pencil, wearing a pair of Freudian round glasses (I didn't even wear glasses back then!), murmuring: "Yes, yes, very interesting...the male and the female have this mating dance...leading to the zygote...X and Y chromosomes..."
It sorta hurt my feelings at the time, but it's true. So I miss the forest for the trees: but the trees are darned interesting. And it hasn't cost much to play the happy vicarious observer while so many played the game and lost big. So Valentine's Day is about sex. It's also about Lisa making fudge and musing over the vicissitudes of life. Both happen pretty much every other day of the year. Except for the great candy I can buy at the grocery store.
Yes, speaking of ships...well, actually I wasn't, but I am now...I have a whole bunch of random nonsense to spout.
First, thoughts about slash as prompted by recent blogly controversy. I don't usually read it -- or any fic, come to that -- unless it's bloody brilliant, and I can't think of any compelling reason to write it...except for one ship. Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that Jack Nicholson had FAR more chemistry with Greg Kinnear than with Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets? I mean, I love that movie, but I just cannot, cannot believe in the unlikely romance between Melvin and Carol. Sorry. She's like his babysitter or his special-ed teacher, or some other female authority figure who won't take his crap and who eventually helps him turn his life around, but his lover? Eurgh. It doesn't help me that I personally find Jack Nicholson creepy anyway. But honestly, watching Melvin and Simon bicker and fight over the dog and help each other out of their crises, I can't help thinking they'd make a more balanced match than Melvin and Carol. In my mind's shipping eye, I see Melvin and Carol breaking up rather quickly and Carol swooping out with the stinger, "Why don't you sleep with Simon?" Yeah, Melvin. Why not? You know you want to. But I'm not going to write that story. Why? Because I could care less about seeing any of them sexually fulfilled -- I could care less, but not much. There's a reason why that movie's called As Good As It Gets.
Second bit of random nonsense. Yes, I have added another TV show to my list, God help me: Giles the Vampire Slayer's Watcher...oops, I meant Buffy. And as with any fandom, have promptly discovered a ship I would never have come up with myself, though subsequently it appears obvious that someone would: Buffy/Giles. Oy. Oy, oy, oy vey. I do not know that I could bring myself to read even a good B/G fic; there's a wrongness to it that Harry/Hermione doesn't even begin to approach. Jessica just finished this huge B/G fic that took her like a day to read, and then described it to me, and I told her I was confirmed in my opinion that Buffy/Giles is Just Not Right. "I do, however, approve wholeheartedly of the Lisa/Giles ship," I added, and she laughed.
Which brings me to real life, and Valentine's Day. Yes, ladies and jellyspoons, it's that time of year again. I used to be cynical about it, but have now lost the will to waste my zingers on this holiday. After all, why knock a holiday that is second only to Christmas and Halloween for producing great candy? I don't count Easter candy because Easter candy is mostly gross. Once I got over my Moaning Myrtle phase, I got into the phase of giving everybody valentines instead of waiting for everybody to give them to me. In recent times, however, I have finally gotten the drift that every adult eventually gets about Valentine's Day: it's about sex. No, I mean really. Try not to be too shocked. To explain my take on this -- aspect? -- of the holiday, I'll take you back to seventh grade. My friends and I were busily accusing one another of wearing large bras and liking young X, Y, or Z. To illustrate our adventures in school, we drew cartoons depicting ourselves in various situations -- very postmodern in the way that only seventh-graders can be. In one of these cartoons, my friend Heather depicted another friend, Diann, proudly walking into school one morning with a distended belly. "That must have been some date with Darin," the cartoon-Heather said. Other romantic imbroglios were taking place in the background, and off to the side was me, sitting in a school desk with a notebook and a pencil, wearing a pair of Freudian round glasses (I didn't even wear glasses back then!), murmuring: "Yes, yes, very interesting...the male and the female have this mating dance...leading to the zygote...X and Y chromosomes..."
It sorta hurt my feelings at the time, but it's true. So I miss the forest for the trees: but the trees are darned interesting. And it hasn't cost much to play the happy vicarious observer while so many played the game and lost big. So Valentine's Day is about sex. It's also about Lisa making fudge and musing over the vicissitudes of life. Both happen pretty much every other day of the year. Except for the great candy I can buy at the grocery store.
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