(no subject)

[vixen-notatramp.livejournal.com]

Hey, y'all! I'm a new poster here; I've been commenting and reading since a friend steered me in this direction a few months ago, but today marks my first blog-flog. We get two for the price of one today, because really, the Vacation Blogs are a series and must be flogged at least partially as such. (...See? I too can rationalize things! I AM LAUREL-LIKE, ALL FEAR AND WORSHIP AND SEND MONEY, ECT.)

In both flogs, Laurell will be in ~~**BOLD**~~, to express the sheer Sheshulness of her Darkity Dark soul; I will be in regular font, because I still hold a tenuous grip on reality.

Blog The First: In Which Laurell is A) Speshul and B) So Much Whiter Than You




So, LKH starts us off with her normal disclaimer about how she is OMG DARKITY DARK and hence can only swan around in large black caftan-y garments with artistically smeared eyeliner, and relaxing is so hard and oh Jesus, someone give her a cookie and a hit upside the head with a clue-by-four, already. She then busts out with list of firsts, including:

Trinity's first sushi. She loved it.

...This could be my California showing, but... really? Laurell has bookoo bucks and can hence afford the kind of really good sushi my poor, college-attending-and-employed-as-a-waitress heart only dreams of on nights when my RiceARoni just ain't doin' it for me, and her teenage daughter is only just now eating any of it? I mean, not for nothing, but I managed to wrangle myself some sushi while I was living in the sticks of Utah, so I know you can find sushi outside of California.

A small point, I know, but this is the kind of weird bullshit that just bugs about Laurell. I want to know now if Trinity never wanted it, or if it grossed her out- as it does my landlocked Arizona cousin; poor sap has no idea what she's missing- or if Laurell was too damn occupied with her own Speshul nature (and her Jonboi) to spend her oddles of cash at least partially on her own daughter. I honestly suspect the latter, but I am a cynical bitch.

Grandma Mary didn't come on the boat, she was afraid she'd get sea sick and ruin the trip for all of us. It was rough the day we went out. Not a sea for the faint of heart, or stomach. But we came back with so many fun stories, and pictures that she's hoping to go out next time if the sea is less tempestuous.

...I like the phrasing here. Even when it's not about Laurell... it's all about Laurell. I dealt with frequent nausea after having surgery a year ago, and unless Mary-mother-of-Jon is a goddamn saint, her first worry ain't gonna be that precious precious Laurell's trip will be ruined; it's gonna be that she avoids throwing up at all costs.

Also: God, Laurell, would it kill you to proofread your damn blogs before posting? You came back with fun stories and... pictures of the apparently feminine gender that, despite being there, want to go out next time if the sea is less 'tempestuous'. (Which, uh... dude, there's good words for every sitch, and pulling out 'tempestuous' right there? Was not a good choice. Using 'big words' well: You're doing it wrong.) I just wonder if she even proofs before posting, you know? I think she's trying to say her mother-in-law would like to go out next time if conditions are better, but Princess Emo McSparklyPants practically Da Vinci Code-d that fucker. I think we need a Rostetta Stone for her blogs, y'all... can't hurt, right?

Then we move on to a discussion of Laurell's sunburning trends, in which she is of course, unique and alone in all the world...

Yes, the top of my hand. I usually get some weird sunburned patch because I miss a spot. On my shoulder, on my leg, top of the foot, some small bit of skin that I think I've slathered and I have not.

Laurell, I hate to tell you this, but: Welcome to the club, honey. This is not all that unusual; I know when my oiled up, hunky cabana boys are off shift- which is, sadly, all the time, as I do not honestly possess any- I miss spots. Like shaving and self-tanner, most people end up missing a spot here or there. The frightening part of this is that Laurell seems to be under the delusion that she alone is this strange and quirky! I am seriously considering intervention, because I worry she may try and take over the world when she discovers that- GASP- sometimes her lipstick wears off halfway through the day.

Then we get into my favorite part of the blog: In which Laurell proves that she has major issues with race.

So half my hand is tanned as dark as I get, which isn't dark or tanned. It's like a shade or two darker than my normal skin tone. I showed it to Trinity and said, "This is as dark as I tan."

She said, "That's it?"

"Yep, that's it."

She gave me a look, since she tans dark enough to be asked if she's Hispanic.

I said, "Now you know why I don't bother trying to tan."

Does anyone know what Laurell's deal is with being utterly obsessed with being race? There's Anita and her "OMG, I IS MIXED RACE, YOU CAN TELL BY HOW I LOOK LIKE... WELL, REALLY, ANY ETHNIC GROUP WHO COULD HAVE PALE SKIN AND DARK HAIR AND EYES, BUT REALLY I'M WHITE!" thing, and now this. I don't wanna get all j'accuse-y on y'all, but Laurell seems to have a weird preoccupation on skin color, with a slant towards "YAY WHITIES!"

Going off that:

This anemic golden color is just not worth it.

No, Laurell. No, no, no. You cannot be anemic and golden, trust me. My sister: golden. Me? Anemic. One looks like she spends all her time outdoors, frolicking and possibly even saving lives in a tiny red bathing suit; the other glows in low light and can play 'connect-the-veins' during boring classes. You guess which is which.

Thus ends my flog of this particular gem: now onto the next one, yay!



In Which Laurell Is Speshul (Yet Again) And Leads Such A Hard Life



Laurell starts off with some bullshit about how she expects us to believe she ever could forget about her precious manuscripts, followed by proof she will never forget about them. This takes us to her Great Realization, Edition 5 Kajillion and Fifteen:

But that wasn't why I was carrying everything around with me like a turtle. It was stress. The more stressed I am the more I want around me. More pages, more books, more whatever. It's the old pack rat syndrome. When in doubt, carry it with you.

...'Pat rack syndrome', huh? I do not think that phrase means what you think it means, Laurell. I understand what she's trying to say, but I really wish she would just... use the right words for once. But, as she only writes words on a page and has them published for a living, I suppose I could be asking too much.

I hadn't realized how burdened I'd let myself get, until I came back from this week of vacation and literally my load is lighter. I have just as much work to do, and my deadlines have only gotten closer, but I'm calm about it. I can do it.

Bitch, please. I am the last person to say writing is easy all the time, but I move that when your life consists of sitting at home, churning out poorly concealed sexual fantasies and wish fulfillment while ignoring anything that might be considered a legitimate responsibility- like, say, your pets or your own child- until it suits you to pay attention to them, you lose the right to bitch about how hard your life is. Movement approved, guys?

Blah blah blah Laurell doesn't drink, blah blah blah this:

She knew I would have a pen and paper with me. I always have pen and paper with me.

I said, "No, I don't."

Okay, again I get what she's trying to do here with the dramatic reveal and all that, but here's the thing: It does not work, either stylistically or in the realm of common sense. If Mary-mother-of-Jon knows something is true, and Laurell confirms that truth, her dramatic, "OMG NO PEN!" reveal just... does not work.

Then we have our gorgeous last paragraph:

Just me, no notebook, no pen, no computer, just my thumb drive stuffed into the pocket of my cargo shorts. Me, watching the sun go down with palm trees, sea birds, and miles and miles, of miles and miles of blue water and sky. I think I needed it.

"'Isn't it pretty to think so'" it ain't, y'all. Two issues here: first of all, if you are on the beach with no computer and cannot even bring a damn pen, why bring a flash drive? Common sense says beach=water=bad for gadgets in your pockets... and why would she bring the flashdrive if she had no computer, anyway? Does not compute. Second issue is: Laurell, for cryin' out loud, quit bellyaching about your oh-so-hard life. Gonna break it to you: you have the money to take a trip like the one you were on whenever you damn feel like it? You have no call to be complaining about how hard you have it.

Okay, guys, it's been fun: Hope to see you soon, and with more spleen to vent. Take care of yourselves, and each other. -wink-