ysobelle | Thud. (Reply)

surlywench (May She Live Forever) left a few hours ago, and I feel a little better about Fairie Fest. Unfortunately, much like stirring up the crap on the bottom of a fish tank in order to clean it, pulling out all the corset components I have is a big old slap in the face: I have a metric butt-ton of work to do to get ready. I will NOT make myself nuts like I did at NELA, however. I just don't know quite how not to.

I ran out the door when I thought a moving van had hit my car. No, it was UPS, and they were coming for me. Panther Pavilions came through with flying colours for me, delivering my new tent a full week earlier than I expected it. I've dubbed it MFM2: MayFaire Moon Mobile. Or MFM II, as MFM I will be PARF. Or my apartment. Whichever.

Later, I ran out the door again when I heard sirens, to find a Septa bus on fire on the corner. Seems to have been an electrical fire that just got out of control and crisped the whole bus from the inside out. But thankfully, no one was hurt at all.

And in other news:

That piece making the rounds about how we should all stop bitching, love the President, and thank Jesus we live in a country where we have jobs and hospitals and religious freedom, and all our complaining makes us the biggest generation of whiny crybabies ever? Fuck you. How the hell could anyone think Jay Leno would have written it in the first place? He didn't. And second? Fuck you. (No, Wendy, not you. You I love. I mean the general "you.")

My response:

'Also? Just because we have it so much better here than a country living under Sharia law doesn't mean we should shut up and take it when Pagans have to sue to get headstones when they die for our country, when the Supreme Court tells me what I can and can't do with my body even if my life is in danger, when whites seem to feel they can tell blacks what can and can't offend them and no one can talk about it, where if I AM in an accident, I'd better pray I have health insurance even though that job I should be so grateful for may not offer it, and when more and more of my friends are getting shipped off to die in a war with no goals, no hope of "victory," and no end. Wanting to make my country a better place doesn't make me a "spoiled brat."'