Archive for the 'ouran host club' Category

Supernatural, and, indeed, the entire concept of manifest destiny, seems a whole lot less romantic after driving 300+ miles in a day.

So today I made the trek from the C.H. to Charlotte and then back again. That’s about 2 and a half hours on the road each way with a two hour cushion in the middle where I ate chicken tenders and tried to learn about Cimabue and the International Gothic style in a cafe waiting before my meeting. Some people — COUGH ASHE COUGH — really enjoy driving, and God bless ’em, they can drive for me in the future, because somewhere between High Point and Burlington while I was trapped on the endless hell of I-85, I was literally boxed in by semis and I wanted nothing more than Dean Winchester to poof into existence and be my chauffeur while Sam made his bitchface ™ in the backseat.

But really, now that it’s 10 p.m., I am equipped with surprisingly excellent Chinese food from that local place from which I have never ordered because apparently you have to know a guy who know a guy who once killed a unicorn to be able to find out THAT they deliver, I am feeling much calmer — much happier. Much more in tune with my inner child who is eating her third otter pop of the day. (It’s the only reason I’m not eating the Klondike bars that are also in the freezer. Or my spiked watermelon. Ooo — I should eat my spiked watermelon.) I forgive myself; I’m learning about Cimabue and the International Gothic style for Christ’s sake.

The point of this entry isn’t actually just to bitch about my trip, but also to point out this really excellent cool “Waffles and Manga” mix made by onelittlesleep, who, once upon a time, seriously, left me the sweetest comment I have ever gotten on a story ever, hands down. I actually had to rub at my eyes a bunch when I saw that one because oh my God, that was exactly kind of how I felt. I mean, other than the tying Conner to a scarecrow pole thing in a cornfield thing — ’cause that was all above board. The point is, I’ve been listening to the mix for a while now and ya’ll should definitely to hook yourselves up, it’s awesome, and it’s very, very appropriately Conner and Geoffrey in Visiting Hours, I think.

I think I might be starting version five of Arc. God damn my life.

Oh, and for your gratuitous hilarity of the day, check under the cut for Ouran Host Club shenanigans, some ungodly hot(t) Gaara, and Hugh Laurie being awesome. And some graphic pictures of phone sex from our favorite Lets Make Porn Stars Fall In Love! mangaka Youka Nitta, and a special bonus with a file name “clampsux.” I have no idea who (a) made these (b) snuck them onto the internet in the first place — but they’re not mine and yet, STILL hilarious:

Continue reading ‘Supernatural, and, indeed, the entire concept of manifest destiny, seems a whole lot less romantic after driving 300+ miles in a day.’

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Oh, God damn it.

One minute, I’m innocently watching amazing yet hilariously stupid anime (read: Ouran Host Club) the next minute my 8973928472394739478 hours of art history classes are kicking me in the face:

OURAN HOST CLUB: *is stupid and yet, amazing*
ME: Lalala, wow, isn’t this Ouran Host Club thing stupid, and yet amazing?
OURAN HOST CLUB: !!!
ME: !
OURAN HOST CLUB: !!!
ME: !
OURAN HOST CLUB: !!!
ME: ISN’T THAT RIB VAULTING IN THE CEILINGS OF THE SCHOOL?
OURAN HOST CLUB: !!!!
ME: OH MY GOD.
OURAN HOST CLUB: !!!
ME: OH MY GOD. So the building clearly has quadrapartite vaulting, and based on the clock/bell tower that is usually shown in opening sequences (with a wash of flower petals, at that), the style of the school looks more French Gothic than English — due to a lack of murality in the — OH MY GOD WHY AM I SUCH A LOSER.

Ironically, the snatch of subtitles the screencap caught is…perfect.


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East Coast Gazette has a terrible editorial focus and tends to use a lot of ALL CAPS but TOTALLY NOT BECAUSE OF HARRY POTTER. Stories in progress as well as snapshots will be listed in the "box full of snapshots" below, website archive for stories and assorted tomfoolery is glitterati.

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