fairykukla

[fairykukla]

this is so cool and also rosencrantz and guildenstern's sign names are killing me lol

[fairykukla]

I'm hosting a little doll meet this weekend. It's my friend's birthday, and I'm going to make a cake or maybe cupcakes for her.

For the dolls, I have my Pride Parade display, which I will thin down and rearrange to include more dolls.

On my buffet, I wanted to have a kids tea party with the Yo-sized dolls and the smaller tinies.

Maybe something like this:

Or this:

[fairykukla]

I'm in this photo, and I like it.

[fairykukla]

somewhere out there right now is a kid with curly hair being raised by people who have wavy hair at best and those people are giving them 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner and telling them to dry brush it. and that kid is gonna spend all of middle school and high school hating their hair and moping over the flat iron. they're being told right now that if they don't dry-brush their curl pattern into oblivion every morning it means they're unkempt and gross even though they naturally have the kind of ringlets that a thousand bridezillas would commit horrible murders for every june. it's happening right now it's an absolute epidemic and a tragedy every time

[fairykukla]

The Indianapolis Star, Indiana, July 26, 1925

[fairykukla]

Vincent Price as Dr. Death - Madhouse (1974)

[fairykukla]

How Surprising!

The animal shelter announces they are switching things up and letting the pets choose their humans. Your friends got cats and dogs. Your niece got a hamster. What arrived at your doorstep was a bit unconventional.

[fairykukla]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[fairykukla]

I really am tempted to write a Doctor Who fanfiction called Janitor What where the main premise is (while being a pretty major plot hole himself) another timelord who was friends with The Doctor and The Master when they were young on Gallifrey. Only, instead of running in fear or being driven completely mad when forced to stare into The Untempered Schism, he is compelled to clean time and is captive to this illusion that time doesn't have to be so wibbly or wobbly at all. He sort of works as the timelord who actually does his job. Only issue is that his two best friends have gone absolutely off their rockers and he spends most of his time cleaning up their messes. In other words, The Janitor is who patches up plotholes. How did Pete Tyler know to catch Rose in Doomsday? The Janitor. What ever happened to The Valeyard? The Janitor. How are there no Reapers before or after Father's Day? You can thank The Janitor because that's his daleks baby. And The Janitor always shows up in this shipping crate that says Fragile on the side and he's got a tool belt of bullshit like an Ultraviolet Spanner, a Gammaray Hammer, or the Sub-o-matic plunger. Of course, the even better gimmick of it all is when he lands and is asked who the hell he is. I mean it is the very last place one expects to have hired a janitor. Which always prompts a mind boggled, "Janitor? What?"

[fairykukla]

I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

[fairykukla]

I really am tempted to write a Doctor Who fanfiction called Janitor What where the main premise is (while being a pretty major plot hole himself) another timelord who was friends with The Doctor and The Master when they were young on Gallifrey. Only, instead of running in fear or being driven completely mad when forced to stare into The Untempered Schism, he is compelled to clean time and is captive to this illusion that time doesn't have to be so wibbly or wobbly at all. He sort of works as the timelord who actually does his job. Only issue is that his two best friends have gone absolutely off their rockers and he spends most of his time cleaning up their messes. In other words, The Janitor is who patches up plotholes. How did Pete Tyler know to catch Rose in Doomsday? The Janitor. What ever happened to The Valeyard? The Janitor. How are there no Reapers before or after Father's Day? You can thank The Janitor because that's his daleks baby. And The Janitor always shows up in this shipping crate that says Fragile on the side and he's got a tool belt of bullshit like an Ultraviolet Spanner, a Gammaray Hammer, or the Sub-o-matic plunger. Of course, the even better gimmick of it all is when he lands and is asked who the hell he is. I mean it is the very last place one expects to have hired a janitor. Which always prompts a mind boggled, "Janitor? What?"

[fairykukla]

I would like that number to be "4 or 5" but it's not true.

I have been handed:

Vinyl records (a stack of them)

A faux fur coat

Flyers

Booze

Hey what's a typical number of times to have been handed a grocery bag full of pomegranates by a total stranger?

Also, follow up question: what's the weirdest (but not bad, just weird) thing a stranger has ever handed you?

[fairykukla]

I mean, some of them *were* aliens. Starting with Susan, who was a time Lord. Romana, too. Nyssa was alien, if I remember correctly.

Of course all of those aliens looked just like humans. I do think it would be awesome to have an actual alien-looking alien as a companion.

what kills me is it wouldn’t actually be difficult at all to have an alien companion on doctor who. budget aside there’s still so much left to explore in comedy science fiction, a veritable wellspring of ways to put our position in the universe into perspective, to compare and contrast cultures, and room to do all of that well and with respect. but something tells me that ain’t gonna happen

[fairykukla]

getting my first immunosuppressant shot today!!!!!!

[fairykukla]

really good thing about eartha kitt I wanna be evil is how easy it is to invent new verses. I wanna be evil. I wanna throw cats. I wanna be evil. I wanna wear hats

[fairykukla]

Who's made faux porcelain from white bread and glue? I've wanted to try to imitate the look of 1928 brand jewelry with porcelain roses--stuff like this

and it seems, from what I've read, that bread + glue faux porcelain might work, but I was wondering if anyone could speak from experience about that particular crafting compound.

I have some salt dough, made for a project that didn't end up happening, but everything I've read says that salt dough has a much more coarse surface when it dries, so I don't know if it would work.

Edit: I'm also open to hearing about experiences with cold porcelain, although that's a little more involved than I currently want to get.

[fairykukla]

One sad side effect of big box stores is that you just don’t get lifelong hyper fixation guy access like you used to.

Like yeah I can go to Menards and buy a door.

But it used to be I could go to the door store, and speak to a man whose sole passion in life was doors and who would talk about the history of door insulation patterns over the last 50 years without stopping to breathe.

That man is gonna find me the BEST door option for me.

Seriously my neighborhood had one of these. They were across the street from the lighting shop owned by the guy who could tell you the exact date, off the top of his head, that your property got electrical wiring based on your address.

Now these guys rarely get to own a shop, make a good living, and sell the very finest doors for decades. They’re relegated to Reddit posts which are informative but ultimately do not replace door guy having a door shop.

I don’t want to talk to some miserable, underpaid 20 year old who was in plumbing last week and in doors this week and doesn’t know a hammer from a hanger.

I want my door guy back.