And cranky Bones is cranky.

But also: funny.

I IZ TEN NINJAS! [link]

Finally finished!

Pfeh, color me pissed off. I was reading a Big Bang story and it isn't actually finished. It ends on a huge twist, like a chapter-ending cliffhanger, and the writer's all "Hah hah, what a great twist!"--and apparently fails to understand that that isn't a complete story. She makes no effort to actually resolve any of the storylines, just stops the narrative cold.

If it were just posted on her LJ I wouldn't care, but it's for a Big Bang: these are supposed to be complete stories.

I'm really quite put out.

Can you ask the mods to look into the situation? Maybe give her a prod to take it down and actually finish it logically?

Did you write her a Sternly Worded Comment?

...honestly, I'm becoming more and more of a total Nazi grumpy old fan. I feel like people should have to pass a test before they're allowed to post shit where I might see it.

I mean, I do realise how wildly, insanely unreasonable I'm being, and how hypocritical, and yet I seem to be turning into this total curmudgeon.

I think possibly it's because my day job involves so much patience and tolerance and nurturing of burgeoning spelling/punctuation/grammar skills and all that jazz, and indeed art and drawing skills - and I do it, and it's not tricky because I do sincerely enjoy it, and I'm all about the positivity and support and Go Team You and all that jazz...but when I come into fandom, I want the things I look at to be made by grownups. And to look like they were made by grownups.

Which doesn't mean porn, it just means a modicum of polish and a grasp of the building blocks of story (or the visual arts). And, yes, finishing the motherfucking story would come under that heading.

Stab stab stabbity stab!

Get those gorram kids offa my lawn!

Ahem.

On a brighter note, Captain Kirk's Adventures In LOLCat is the most entertaining thing I've read in ages.

And on a related note, I am highly amused by the discovery that you people have invented teeny tiny miniature cheeseburgers. (It's like what Dean Winchester would like Sushi to be, I'm pretty sure.) I ordered some of these "Slider" things, and they were yummy. And cat sized. I taunted my cat with their existence, and informed him that he no can haz cheezburger, and then I ate them all up, NOM NOM NOM. (But I let him have some fish, so he was more than happy to pass on the mini cheeseburgers.)

Miniature cheeseburgers. Honestly, America. You just - you keep on being awesome, with your crazy no-holds-barred approach to cuisine. I remember when I was five we went to the US for the first time, and my parents told me there was something called "chocolate chip icecream", and they never paused to consider that I had never encountered a chocolate chip in my life - that my mother, with her training in the culinary arts, knew what they were, and that my Dad, having lived in the States for 5 years, knew what they were, but that since they were not a normal feature of 1970s Britain, I had never encountered them. And so I had this astonished impression of a country where icecream, instead of being available in white, pink or brown flavours (I hesitate to dignify 1970s British icecream with the descriptors 'vanilla', 'strawberry' or 'chocolate') was actually available with chocolate-coated chips french fries in it. Or possibly chocolate shaped like french fries. I wasn't clear on that point.

...of course, on the way home from Seattle, I stopped off in Japan for a few hours, and bought a packet of chocolate-coated crisps potato chips. So I wasn't wrong, entirely - just ahead of my time.

Um. I seem to have misplaced my point. I know I had it, I just put it down somewhere, just for a minute, and now it's gone. Who moved my point, damn it?

Sliders have been around for a Very Long Time. I remember seeing them in the freezer section as a kid. (Though I'm not sure how long the term's been used to describe 'em.)

Without them, Harold and Kumar would have had no reason to go to White Castle, and I'd have never had a reason to write Neil Patrick Harris copulating with a Toyota.

Clearly, they hold together vital parts of our section of the multiverse.

wrod. To all y'all. And I'm still a bit put out with ms. "eternal bleeding" for not, when I told her "I write and edit all day; sorry for the Billy Walsh moment :)" responding by saying "Not at all. I shouldn't be so sloppy." or something. When someone tells you she knows she's crazy, it seems like bad manners to agree with her about it. I was being Irish and self-mocking, for fuck's sake. It's a thing. But "internal" is still not the same as "eternal". Okay, now I'm over it.

Without them, Harold and Kumar would have had no reason to go to White Castle, and I'd have never had a reason to write Neil Patrick Harris copulating with a Toyota.

I do not like this world without sliders. It would be worse than the world without shrimp.

You could always cut hamburgers into quarters, but without shrimp we'd be stuck eating crawdad cocktails.