Tuesday, October 29, 2002

Remember how I said everyone I know is getting married?

Well, now a friend has filed for divorce. I'm trying to talk myself into the idea that this should make me feel better. It isn't working.

I know that they will be happier not being married, but divorces are sad.

Monday, October 28, 2002

Note to my stalkers: Leave me notes! I'm bored, and I want to know who you are.

Your wish is my command, Jennifer. You slut.

So, a few months ago Will had this dream. As per usual, it was about vampires, or something. (I say usual, but I should clarify that usually he dreams about vampires in conjunction with soldiers. I don't remember if there were soldiers. It wasn't my dream.) Anyway, that was a Friday night. Saturday morning he told me about the dream while we were lying in bed, playing the Game of Wills, in which we hold out to make the other one get up first. Whoever gives in (usually because of a need to use the potty) has to make the coffee. Anyway, I wasn't terribly awake yet, but his description of the dream gave me all sorts of fabulous mental images, and we started brainstorming about story ideas. I took some notes and made a basic outline for a different vampire story. The original plan was that I would write it as a story, and give it over to him to write as a screenplay.

Time passed, as it is so prone to doing.

Yesterday Jenn (not Jennifer) came over and we watched the Blade II DVD. It was very cool, and I want to have Guillermo del Toro's fat, geeky babies. While watching, I started to think about my story again, and wrote out a bit of dialogue, longhand. After Jenn left for work, I sat down at the computer while Will did some work on his soldiers (1:6 scale, and it was work, not play) and typed out what I'd written, with some additions. Then I spent a few hours mulling over ideas and going insane like I always do when inspiration strikes. I took a break to watch Angel, which was fantastic, and then talked ideas over with Will, who loves what I've written so far. Unfortunately, he is such a genre junkie that his input was overwhelming.

It's now early morning. I need a shower, milk, and smokes, but I'm sitting at my computer, trying to write and feeling generally full of myself. It's Will's fault - he predicted that I'll become "that screenwriter" that the genre junkies have all been waiting for, the one who will write a "different and important" genre movie. If I do, it will only be due to my absolute lack of knowledge of the genre. I figure I don't have to follow the "rules," because I don't know what they are.

Yay for me!

Saturday, October 26, 2002

I have this book of matches from Ralphs which I am using to light my cigarettes, because I don't know where I put my lighter. Every time I light one, the end flies off, aflame, and tries to set me and/or my apartment on fire.

I think I ought to either stop smoking or find the Zippo.

Friday, October 25, 2002

Weatherman repeats himself! Film at eleven.

I understand that the news must be repeated for people who join on the half hour. I started watching at 5:00 - it's no wonder that the weather, at the very least, would be repeated at 5:30 and 6:00. Information about the sniper suspects was also repeated, with no updates. I understand, I do!

But why, oh why, must they start advertising news items "coming up next" at 5:00 and not run the stories until after 6:00? I want to know about the conjoined twins! I do! And the abusive babysitter! This is Important News.

Oh, nevermind. I'm going to watch The Royal Tenenbaums again.

Dear "H,"

How am I doing? I'll tell you how I'm doing. I want my sunglasses, my mail, the Buffy tapes you were supposed to copy for me, as well as the 4 months superfluous rent I paid you, back. I want the time and effort I put into this friendship back. And, while I'm at it, I'd like for you to stop forwarding virus warnings to me. Every single one so far has been a hoax. Didn't I show you how to use google?

Thanks for asking. But I could do without your pathetic gestures.

me: I feel really bad (still) about Thanksgiving. I hope your parents aren't angry. I know they'll be disappointed, but I really hope they have the sense to understand.

my boyfriend (who is perfect): sweetie, you have no reason to feel bad. It isn't like I made a decision: "Family or Bettie". That decision didn't really need to be made. It was common sense, which is probably why it took me so long to realize it was the right thing to do [tongue icon]...
And I don't say that like: "I choose you over mi familia" but like...
Ack. Brain fart.

Me: You didn't choose me over your family. You chose me as your family, and the rest of your family is inconveniently located.

Him: Wow.

Me: Did I get it right?

Him: Totally.

I'm bored and hungry, and there's a little kid in the hallway of my apartment building screaming her head off.

I am sick to death of pop-up ads that I don't notice. It inevitably occurs when I am staring at the keyboard (as I do when I type) and I don't realize until 10 sentences later that nothing I've typed has actually gone through.

I'm afraid that Jamie didn't like my synopsis of Help, because I haven't heard back from her.

Did I mention I'm hungry? I knew I should have bought those sun chips that were talking to me at the store earlier.

Thursday, October 24, 2002

Yay for me!

I'm in an excellent mood, for no discernable reason. I suppose it could be due to the huge bowl of cereal I ate, but I doubt it. It could also be due to...no, I can't actually think of anything specific.

I blame Phoebe.

Edit On second thought, while I'm certain that Phoebe and the cereal contributed, I think Katherine's present that arrived today may have also had something to do with it.

Wednesday, October 23, 2002

Damn it. I psyched myself up. I went over in my head a million times the pros and cons. I was all prepared to do it, to deal with the ick factor, and to just get it all over with. I even ran through some fights with Mary in my head, just to prepare myself should it come to that.

Now it looks like we can't afford to fly me to Pittsburgh. Which means one of a few possibilities. Either he goes alone, and his parents get the satisfaction of knowing that their son comes when he's called (even though I know it's because he wants to see them, and his sister), neither of us go (he doesn't get to see his sister), or we go further into debt so that he can see his family and I can prove a point.

I liked it better when I planned it out before looking into plane fares.

Tuesday, October 22, 2002

I have found in a friend a miniature (not size-wise, age- and experience-wise) me. I want to protect her and make sure she doesn't hurt and fix all of the things that do hurt and make sure none of the stuff I went through happens to her.

And I can't.

Monday, October 21, 2002

Dear Will's Mom,

Your manipulations have got to stop. Will isn't falling for them, just hurt by them. It is your choice to not accept me, but the fact is that I am part of your son's life, and have been for five years.

He told you in April that he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. He told you that it was because he was spending the holidays with me. To ask him, repeatedly, if he is coming home is just mean at this point. You are only setting him up to have to either hurt you (again) by choosing me or hurt me (and himself) by changing his mind. He is 27 years old and can make up his own mind. There is no call for you to torture him about it.

I love that you love and like your son so much that you want him home for the holidays. I really do. But I am starting to despise you for your methods of trying to get him there, and I am afraid that he will too.

Please - this is for your own sake - fuck off.

Sunday, October 20, 2002

Man, Pat and Stephanie are so much cooler than me. I adore them.

Saturday, October 19, 2002

note to self: write essay Why Xander is the most complex character on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Post on Watcher's Diary. Run away from the inevitable flames.

Death by soap bubble

my TV: Those bubbles! They're poison!
my boyfriend: Yeah, and they really sting if they get you in the eye.

Heehee. UltraMan is great.

Friday, October 18, 2002

Spot the funny:

"John Carpenter's The Thing is playing at one of Geoff's theaters tonight.

Thing is, it's a midnight showing."

Thursday, October 17, 2002

I hate you, Free Open Diary!

None of my friends with open diaries are posting to them.

Stupid life-having friends.

Dear Feminists,

Thanks for liberating me. You did a bang-up job!

Now, could you leave me alone, please? I'd like to live my life the way I want to, whether or not it is the way that a liberated woman "should" live.

That's what you get for liberating me!

Housewife and submissive bed-partner

Dear All of my Friends,

A few points of clarification on my last entry.

Actually, no. I'll just rephrase: Next year is my 25th birthday. I am inviting all of you, and if anyone changes plans because of anyone else, I am uninviting everyone and sulking forever.

Also, I wouldn't have said anything if it weren't for the fact that I value all of your friendships. So stop being so paranoid. Jen, this means you.

Wednesday, October 16, 2002

Dear All of my Friends,

I'm getting sick of this. Cut each other off, say nasty things about each other - do whatever the hell you want. Just leave me the hell out of it.

This isn't aimed at anyone in particular, and not all of you are guilty of it. I've just been thinking today, and getting upset.

So cut it out.

Monday, October 14, 2002

Dear fellow Americans,

Please stop making jokes about the sniper in Maryland. My sister-in-law is a Montgomery County police officer, and I just don't think it's funny.


Ways to piss me off (incomplete):

  • Break up with your significant other, who I love, by ceasing all communication. Asshole.

  • It's just irresponsible, it is.

    Because it is after midnight, my boyfriend is asleep across the room, and I'm in pajamas, I am using google as my sole resource for the information I need to find. Ahem. What I mean is, I am using the websites that I find through google searches. It would be futile to only use google.

    Anyway, I came up with an idea for a screenplay on the drive back from CassyLee's (I love you Cassy! I had a fantastic time!) and it requires some dated "accessories." Because I am a picky perfectionist in addition to a World-Class procrastinator, I feel it necessary to note in the screenplay what time of telephone my heroine has in her bedroom. This is utterly ridiculous unless I am going to direct the picture and be its researcher and props mistress, but...well, there you go. I am also a Master of the ridiculous.

    In my hunting, I have come to a conclusion: People with websites featuring Stromberg Carlson, ITT, Northern Electric and Western Electric princess phones suck. Is it really that hard to include a date? I want a 1957 telephone, and none of the pictures of different styles are dated. I did find out that the pre-1962 version had an external ringer (they had not invented one small enough to fit inside the phone), which might make me inclined to use a different phone - but there are no pictures.

    Damn it.

    Sunday, October 13, 2002

    Speaking of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's bottle blonde vamp:

    Bettie says: Fucking Spike Lickers. You know, I like Spike, but they're all killing it for me.

    Tina says: huh?

    Bettie says: The Defenders of Spike on the WD.

    Tina says: I knew who you meant (more or less) but not which post set you off

    Bettie says: Eh - I keep finding myself drawn into the Spike v. Angel thread.

    Tina says: oh....I've avoided that

    Bettie says: Good on you. You'll stay sane longer than I.

    Tina says: well, with a title like "Why Angel is 10X the man Spike is", I could see where it was going

    Bettie says: *sigh* You're so much wiser than I.

    Tina says: I love spike

    Tina says: I love [name deleted]

    Tina says: I have no desire to crawl into that particular minefield, though

    Bettie says: I love Spike too. But I see no reason to defend him.

    Tina says: you know, on the one hand, I love the disection of the show at WD...it's part of what drew me...but when it goes on ad nauseum and the arguments are essentially reduced to "You're stupid!" No, YOU'RE stupid!"...well, enough already. Just watch the damned show

    Bettie says: Absolutely agree.

    Tina says: I mean, I agree that Buffy treated Spike abysmally last year...I also agree it was a fucked up relationship...and the "attempted rape" scene was so out of character, they had to contrive a reason why Spike could even momentarily overwhelm Buffy and even still, people have to clamor and conjecture to come up with explanations for it on both sides (an indication to me that the writer's did a really shitty job--when the fans have to pull conjecture out of thin air to explain completely out of character behavior)

    Bettie says: But the fans will do that anyway.

    Tina says: But what's done is done...can we at least get halfway into the season before we decide "this sucks" and "so and so is STILL a bitch/a whining prat/etc"

    Bettie says: At least people seem to be giving Dawn a chance this year. I'm not one to defend the characters (as you well know) but I always found her to be portrayed as realistically as is possible with a character that is formed from pure energy and just thrown into the mix.

    Tina says: true....I got tired of the screetching, but at least they stopped that And yeah, they do seem to be giving her more of a fair shake

    Tina says: Do you realize that we're talking on topic...in msn??

    Tina says: *claps hand to side of head*

    Bettie says: Shit happens. I'm only on my third cup of coffee.

    Attention, Spike Lickers:

    Fuck off. Go play with your kids or something. Stop trying to defend a fictional vampire and just get a life.

    Thank you.

    All right! I can't take the pressure any longer.

    I used to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation.

    Ahhh. It's good to have said it.

    I remember nothing about the show, merely that I watched it because I thought Wesley was cute. Ahhh, to be 12 again, and break out in cold sweats watching Stand By Me - cold sweats and that I-have-to-pee feeling that has nothing to do with needing to pee...

    I've said too much.

    Saturday, October 12, 2002

    Dear Jamie,
    Please do not read the next few sentences, as I already feel guilty enough.

    I'm cheating on Buffyguide. I found Wil Wheaton's site today (it's Matty's fault!) and he's got a forum. Mr. Wheaton does, I mean. And I registered.

    Bad Movie Day
    I, of course, was on the computer all day. I accomplished very little, despite my attempts to learn html, find all of the cool sites I've been missing, and email all my friends I've lost touch with. Oops.

    Will watched a lot of crap movies. In reverse order: John Carpenter's Vampires, Dungeons and Dragons, Pitch Black, Dracula 2000, The Forsaken, and Jason X.

    Good times.

    Dear "Centennial" Card,

    Thank you for your generous offer to help me rebuild my credit. However, you might want to rethink the unsolicited email route you've chosen to acquire my business through. I inadvertantly deleted your email, and had to dig through my Yahoo "trash can" to find said generous offer. Before giving you my business (and, I assume, my money), I have a few questions:

  • Re: your use of the word "Centennial" in your business name: Are you referring to our nation's centennial? If so, does this mean that your card has been around since 1976? That's amazing! I didn't know there were credit cards back then. Of course, I am only 24, so that was "before my time."

  • Re: my credit: Is it actually possible to rebuild something that never really existed? I failed my very first credit check ever, and have had to pay cash or not purchase every expensive item I own (the computer that makes it possible for you to email me, for example). I have student loans and a bank account, but the former are outstanding and probably in default, and the latter overdrawn. I assure you that I only have them in the first place due to the government's desire to see all Americans in debt.

  • I have a job, but I am paid "under the table," which I am fairly certain is illegal. Will this affect my standing with your organization?

    I think that about covers it! I look forward to your response, and a future business partnership.

    Bettie Black

    p.s. "Bettie Black" is a pseudonym. That doesn't bother you, does it? I'm sure she has far better credit than I do.

  • Note to Jamie: I love you and the WD, you silly bint.

    "You were going to look at porn? You could have just asked me to take my clothes off!"

    Sometimes I say very funny stuff to Will.

    Everyone I know is getting married.

    That isn't true.

    Mike and Vicki are getting married as I type this, Jess and Heath are getting married in a few weeks, and Jennifer sends me over to The Knot on a regular basis to look at the gowns she's considering.

    Beth isn't getting married. Thank god for her.

    Friday, October 11, 2002

    My friend Sean is amusing me with scary pictures of himself, apparently dressed for a disco party. (It's the lighting that makes me think that - otherwise I'd fear for his sanity.)

    I finally got it out of him that he did, indeed, used to have the hots for me. Now I am being a damn girl and demanding to know why he doesn't still. What the hell is wrong with me?

    Dear Mike and Vicki,

    Congratulations on your marriage tomorrow. I love you both and am truly delighted.

    That said - could you give me back Christine, please? I miss her.

    I swear to god, I'm just going to stop visiting the Watcher's Diary. None of these idiots even watch the damn show. Or, if they do, they're all incredibly stupid.

    Wednesday, October 09, 2002

    Dear Fox Network Executives,

    While I realize that you finance Firefly and can therefore do anything you jolly well please with it, I would greatly appreciate if you would be a little bit less blatantly obvious about trying to kill it.

    Running episodes out of order, never airing the pilot, airing the show on Friday night, preempting the third episode for a baseball game - all of these infractions might not, individually, be a big deal. However, when one factors in the fact that not only have they all occurred in the three weeks that the show has been running but there has also been next to no advertising, and you've got a fairly obvious fix.

    I'm onto you.

    Please take any and all action necessary to keep Firefly on the air.


    Monday, October 07, 2002

    I'd give my left arm for a meal from Paquito Mas right now.

    ...I lie. I'd give about $8. But it would be so good, and I don't have any money right now.

    So, I've gained weight since I got to Los Angeles. About 15 pounds, I think. Not a big deal, though occasionally I am very self conscious about it. The real problem is my clothing. None of my pants (trousers) fit me, and there is nothing that makes a girl feel fat faster than a pair of pants, previously loose, not buttoning.

    So on Saturday Will took me shopping. We couldn't really afford it, but I can hardly go around with no pants on. So I tried on several trousers that just made my thighs and hips look chunky. One pair of chinos fit nicely, and I got them, and a full-length skirt, and a sweater. I wore the sweater and skirt all weekend. They're gorgeous and more importantly, I feel sexy in them. That hasn't happened lately in any of my old clothes.

    littleelfchristine: Please let's talk more about us being naked now.
    noirbettie: OK. You must tell me your measurements. [/perv]
    littleelfchristine: Bugger, i don't know.
    noirbettie: Oooh, buggery is also good!

    littleelfchristine: I'd really love to meet you.
    littleelfchristine: And your boobs.
    noirbettie: Mmmm, and they would like to meet you.
    noirbettie: And shake your hand [wink]

    She is far too adorable. I just come across as a lecherous, lesbian pervert, but I can live with that.

    Saturday, October 05, 2002

    Have discovered that Katherine and I use the same blog template. That means...something.

    Am still sufficiently freaked out on having met Katherine's doppelganger, Allison. Los Angeles is So. Weird.

    Friday, October 04, 2002


    I've been thinking about the [man] whose site this is, and wondering why he still hasn't found Tinkerbell (he's 48, for cryin' out loud!). Poor fella. I emailed him and sent a picture of my sister on Halloween when she was 2. Hopefully we can open up some sort of internet romance. I hear those are great.

    I am developing a crush on someone. It feels weird. I haven't had one in quite a while.

    But...she's so wonderful! Yay for crushes!

    WARNING: Girly ramblings ahead. Some of them explicit.
    [sidenote: I just put the cigarettes in the refrigerator so that I won't smoke them.]

    Things that make me feel good:

    • Wearing Will's sweatpants
    • Curling up on his side of the bed and smelling his pillow
    • Looking at naked girls
    • Thinking about fucking my boyfriend
    • Combining the previous two
    • The fact that I wrote a good script for a short movie, and actually plan to make said movie
    • My mommy telling me that she will buy me a plane ticket to London
    • The Royal Tenenbaums
    • My new thesaurus
    • Deciding that I look good even after gaining weight
    • Crappy morning shows on television
    • Playing dress-up
    • Hot cocoa

    Note to self:
    If you write those "Things I Hate" lists, thank Phoebe.

    I gave him my heart and he gave me a thesaurus.
    I really, really, really, really, really love that boy! Additionally, he is an excellent lay.

    Wednesday, October 02, 2002

    Note to self:
    *Things I Hate
    *Things I Hate: LA
    *Thing I Hate: WD
    *Things I Hate about me

    Tuesday, October 01, 2002

    I'm a freak! My eyelid is swollen to absurd proportions, as is a small portion of my earlobe, and I can find no explanation!

    Also, I am stubbornly refusing to go to the ER, as I am in no pain whatsoever. Plus, I'm missing work in case it is something bad, because, you know, infant.

    Will was right. I'm bored. Maybe I should go to the hospital.