bending_sickle | I can't believe that it was me who said that.*

Alright. Okay. Lately, I've just been Linkspamming, and I'm sorry for that. So, ~~without~~ with minor further ado, the life and times of me.

- What is this?

Friday:

My project of wasp sex ratios got all written up nicely and our group prepared a nifty little .ppt presentation. (Our theme was pink, 'cause there's a female-bias. That's 'cause laying males is a waste. Scientific fact.) As, during the whole of data simulation and analysis I'd mostly just stared vacantly as my groupmates happily wrote codes, ran models and analyzed statistics, I actually volunteered to do the presentation. Something must be wrong with me. I actually thought, "No big deal" Ha!

Being group 7 of 7 groups, my group, naturally, was the first to present. And by "my group" I mean me. You know that feeling where you're talking, and you know that the words coming out of your mouth make sense, but you have no idea exactly what you're saying? You're just running on autopilot, hoping that although what you're saying means zip to you, hopefully the other people, always so much smarter than you, can follow what you're saying. Gah. I fielded one stats question to my group's resident genius and made it out alive.

Then, halfway through the presentations, the prof had us take a break and discuss the quality of the presentations. This is never good. What's even worse is that he used me as an example for a very cruel mental exercise. He asked the class what they remembered of my talk. Obviously, vague responses ("Um, it was about wasps, and their offspring." "There were a lot of plants." "...sex?") were the result. And no one got the main point, which I did repeat and actually finish up with. So why did I have to present that if it was worthless? *arg*

Once the presentations were over, it was our turn to rip the professors to shreds. See, the course has only been going for a few years now, and it's got more wrinkles than a brothel bed. We tore that course apart, man. Especially the statistics bit, even though the professor himself is a doll (and apparently noticeably dyslexic**).

After that, to celebrate the end of the course, the professor was nice and bought us chocolate (bars as thick as my hand) and tea or beer, and the whole class hung about snacking on stuff and chatting with a few of the professors. I chatted a bit with the cute redhead guy from Chicago (Concerning whom the frase "as a Christmas tree" has been used. I neither like this frase nor really see the gayness in said guy.) Then I went on a little trek trying to find the environmental building where my Monday class would be.

Saturday:

Woke up late, indulged in another hour of just lazing around in bed, just me and my daydreams, then lazed about some more on the sofa with the internet. Good times.

Then, 'round 3 o'clock, I get a call from a somewhat hushed and groggy Alberto. Reason being he had company he was still trying to get rid off. (*wink, nudge*) So we decided to meet round 6 pm in Amsterdam, where he lives. (I actually got there half an hour late, because while the country is small, it's not as small as I thought. Also, I took some time getting ready and prettified. Mainly because this was an official outing, as opposed to groceries or lectures, and partly because of the Attractive Male factor. And yes, I see the irony in dressing up for a gay guy. Still, efforts did not go unnoticed or unnapreciated.)

We met up at the Dam plaza, at the foot of a faux-monolith. I'd only actually seen him the one time at the end of August, so had only the vaguest of memories: slim, youngish, cute. So when I saw what looked like a young guy siting at the foot of the monolith, listening to his headphones, I wasn't sure if it was him. I didn't want to walk right up and ask, not because I was afraid of the embarrassment were I wrong, but because I was afraid of the embarrassment were I right and showed doubt. But he looked up, I waved, and lo and behold, merry we met.

We skipped round a fair that they had going in the plaza - running under one extremely freaky contraption stocked with screaming people being plummeted through the air - and made our way to the bar where his friend Carlos, whom I'd met, was working.

Man, we talked about everything***. As it boils down to near 5 hours of solid conversation, I'm a bit hazy on all the details. We chatted about long-distance relationships (he's just broken up with long-time beau) and just what they lack with regards to no-distance relationships, where "yo, wanno go for coffee?" doesn't require weeks of planning and a pair of plane tickets. We talked about what men can learn from women (in a word: multitasking). How there's a certain lack of romantic relationships in my life. Aboud parental and sibling relationships, and the lack of communication therein that may occur. About how we both have a little Buddha in our homes and why ("I am the Buddha. I am here to remind you that serenity does exist."). I took the oportunity to pimp out

ursulav's Digger (of which I've read all the free-pages and find myself Wiki-ing things like "Paypal".) About Christianity vs. Churchity and Hypocrisy. About his own experiences coming out and daily life, particularly in such macho-centric countries as Argentina ("You really just have to fake your way through. In Argentina it's still very much a clandestine affair.") We talked about sex ("Teeth are a no-no. I just wanted him to leave after that.") and how everyone's got their own thing, and how a virgin (yours truly) can totally hold a detailed and knowledable conversation about sex and relationships in general. (Fanfiction, you have served me well.)

And all that time, I felt really comfortable. Even though some of the things we were confessing to each other were quite personal, it all flowed well. Turns out he's actually 40****, but has the whole youthful hyper energy thing going - plus, he's of the small and lean body-type (which I looove). And he's sweet and instantly friendly (I had only met him once before), so we talked like old friends. In fact, we were so comfy that one of the barmen kept casting wistful glances our way. When Alberto went to get something, the barman held him deep in coversation for a while. Turns out he was asking how in the hell Alberto managed to always show up with so many different girls, all hot. How did he do it? Could he give him some pointers? Alberto and I just giggled hysterically at that.

And yeah, I really wanted to kiss him a few times. Nothing new, really. Sometimes I get wierd kissing-urges when talking to people - part hormones, part curiosity, part "Just get it over with already!" And while he's promised to take me out with the guys as the requisite straight-girl, I don't think him kissing me is a favour I could ask. Although, you know, if it worked out it'd be great. 'Cause I could stop freaking out about "OMG first kiss has to be perfect" and "poor unkissed lips at this age?" And there wouldn't be any romantic-intentions in the way. (Unless he decided to swing back to hetero-dom, which is unlikely.) I just want to get that first kiss over and done with, really. And since by the looks of it I'm going down the Road of the Hag...

Figgit. Anywho, it's late, I'm tired, and I'm a gonna git me own self to bed. Further updates will come at snail's pace.

ETA: Which Doctor Are You meme via

fallen_iceangel:

What Doctor Who character are You?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as 3rd doctor

A man of science, a Gadget king, you can put up a good fight. You are just what the doctor ordered

3rd doctor

83%

2nd doctor

75%

10th Doctor

67%

4th Doctor

67%

a Dalek

50%

9th Doctor

50%

1st Doctor

50%

7th Doctor

33%

Davros

33%

5th Doctor

25%

6th doctor

8th Doctor

Links of the Day:

Dr Who Related:

General:

45eugenia's rockin' Team Timecock Adventures comic (which brought us the Mighty Boosh link below).
Upcoming Children In Need sketch will feature DTennant and Peter Davison (Dr Who #9), says the hardly-ever-trustworthy work, The Sun.

Fanfic:
Regeneration ~~Sicakthon~~ Ficathon, started by

amberite and bearing a collection of regeneration!sex fics. (e.g.

snowgrouse's True and Proper Sacrifice,

astrogirl2's The Fic of Wrongness and Fic of Even Greater Wrongness). Obviously, blanket-warnings apply to all.

slutboiathon (i.e. Baby!Simm crackathon) is about "Pre-2000 John Simm characters, the prettyboy ones. Plz to be posting crackz0rz on their shininess. Pretty much anything up to Jip goes," and brings us, for example, schoolboy!Master/Doctor (e.g.

gritsinmisery's Digging the Pit (its got a sequel now) and

boulette_sud's Innocence *ngh*) inspired by

snowgrouse's manip.)

Random

Hawtness Incorportated:

snowgrouse made lovely icons from the screencaps of David Tennant in drag as Davina. He makes for a very pretty girl.
Review of the play Elling, starring John Simm, based on the Norwegian novel by Ingvar Ambjørnsen, directed by Paul Miller. (2001 film Wiki)
Totally NSFW pictures of John Simm and ditto for David Tennant (though the latter is really just frickin' hilarious).

Fandoms:

riahannon18's Firefly fic is the first to pique my interest in ages. Still haven't actually read it, but it's a start.
The fabulous vidder Obsessive24 and her rec's page (including bradcpu and