![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
50-cent hot dog hump day!
Item the first: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daveamongus, of whose writing I have been a fan since I was, um, eleven, and he was sixteen, is now for real and serious a Pro-Published Author Guy. You should lay hands on a copy if you can, and if not, well, simply allow me to bask in the fact that my friends are all incredibly cool people.
On a somewhat-but-not-really related note: I'm going to be spending the holiday weekend in Western Michigan, surrounded by Christians.
So, uh, yeah. What happened is that I found out about a month ago that my aunt has cancer, and this forced me to reconsider the wisdom of bailing on a weekend-long family reunion just on the the grounds of living 700 miles away from where it's being held. I checked airfares and lo, they were cheap! I dithered a bit, talked briefly to my mom on IM, and then bought tickets.
Immediately after buying tickets, this began to seem like a bad idea.
Three years ago, it was at this family reunion that I told my mom I write slash (and then I wisely fled to Canada for ten days). The years since have been marked by nothing worse than spending entire three-day weekends eating and talking to my aunts, mainly because there's nothing else to do. No internet. Cell phone reception available only at the top of the very tall hill. Sharing a room with a minimum of five other members of my extended family. And, oh yeah, the campground is run by Methodists, so no alcohol. Or bikinis, but that won't be what I'm ready to hike to town for, round about day three.
So, anyway, for some reason it keeps slipping my mind that I'm going. It was more than a week after I bought plane tickets that I remembered to mention it to any of my actual family members, who I'm going to visit, and only this week did I actually figure out who's picking me up from the airport.
So I'm takingstrangecobwebs' copy of Rockstarlet, and my current library book, The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, and my laptop. And some Netflix movies. If a gay rock star, a deconstruction of the myth of the nuclear family, and assorted media and porn can't keep me sane this weekend, well. Someone may be getting a deranged phone call from the top of the hill with the cross on it.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
daveamongus, of whose writing I have been a fan since I was, um, eleven, and he was sixteen, is now for real and serious a Pro-Published Author Guy. You should lay hands on a copy if you can, and if not, well, simply allow me to bask in the fact that my friends are all incredibly cool people. On a somewhat-but-not-really related note: I'm going to be spending the holiday weekend in Western Michigan, surrounded by Christians.
So, uh, yeah. What happened is that I found out about a month ago that my aunt has cancer, and this forced me to reconsider the wisdom of bailing on a weekend-long family reunion just on the the grounds of living 700 miles away from where it's being held. I checked airfares and lo, they were cheap! I dithered a bit, talked briefly to my mom on IM, and then bought tickets.
Immediately after buying tickets, this began to seem like a bad idea.
Three years ago, it was at this family reunion that I told my mom I write slash (and then I wisely fled to Canada for ten days). The years since have been marked by nothing worse than spending entire three-day weekends eating and talking to my aunts, mainly because there's nothing else to do. No internet. Cell phone reception available only at the top of the very tall hill. Sharing a room with a minimum of five other members of my extended family. And, oh yeah, the campground is run by Methodists, so no alcohol. Or bikinis, but that won't be what I'm ready to hike to town for, round about day three.
So, anyway, for some reason it keeps slipping my mind that I'm going. It was more than a week after I bought plane tickets that I remembered to mention it to any of my actual family members, who I'm going to visit, and only this week did I actually figure out who's picking me up from the airport.
So I'm taking
strangecobwebs' copy of Rockstarlet, and my current library book, The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, and my laptop. And some Netflix movies. If a gay rock star, a deconstruction of the myth of the nuclear family, and assorted media and porn can't keep me sane this weekend, well. Someone may be getting a deranged phone call from the top of the hill with the cross on it. Don't say I didn't warn you.