fawna12
Fawna12
i am so incredibly sad. Anyway. (Pronouns they/them) Hamlet is a bisexual icon and I will not accept arguments. Poetry tag: Fawn's poetryMultifandom but currently hyperfixating on Genloss and theatre! pfp from picrew made by @dragon0va! (https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1504574)
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I never told my wife I had an ex-fiancee
One thing I never told my wife is that I had a fiancee before her. It’s a long story, so buckle up.
It was the year after I graduated college. I was dating my girlfriend, Stephanie, for a couple years and things were getting serious. At the time, I had my roommate, Joey, but he was a Craigslist roommate. We didn’t know each other very well. If you asked me how I knew him aside from Craigslist, the answer is I didn’t. He wouldn’t even tell me where he grew up.
Now, no shit, on the day I was going to propose, tragedy struck. I adorned our apartment with candles and even set up a nice glass display with framed pictures of me and Steph on top. Before Steph came in, Joey walked in and tripped. He actually shattered the glass display and got some in his face. Steph came in a few minutes later as I was on the phone with 911. Fortunately, Steph is a nurse, so she was able to patch him up as the three of us went to the hospital together.
Joey would recover, but he had some issues with glass on his face. He needed some cotton gauze inside his eye, which fortunately the doctors were able to save.
Clearly, I put off my proposal for the time being, but Steph and I agreed to get married. Our engagement was hush hush. Steph’s hours were wonky so she took care of Joey when I wasn’t around. And I should’ve seen the red flags, but I ignored them. They’d hang out together with and without me. They’d be in Joey’s room and lock the door.
One day, I came home and all of Joey’s stuff was gone. He moved out. Steph wrote a note. The note said, “We fell in love and we’re leaving together. Don’t try to find us.”
I didn’t listen and I searched, but true to the note, I couldn’t find them. I’ll never know what happened.
Suffice to say,
if it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe
I’d have been married a long time ago.
Where did you come from, where did you go?
Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?
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I never told my wife I had an ex-fiancee
One thing I never told my wife is that I had a fiancee before her. It’s a long story, so buckle up.
It was the year after I graduated college. I was dating my girlfriend, Stephanie, for a couple years and things were getting serious. At the time, I had my roommate, Joey, but he was a Craigslist roommate. We didn’t know each other very well. If you asked me how I knew him aside from Craigslist, the answer is I didn’t. He wouldn’t even tell me where he grew up.
Now, no shit, on the day I was going to propose, tragedy struck. I adorned our apartment with candles and even set up a nice glass display with framed pictures of me and Steph on top. Before Steph came in, Joey walked in and tripped. He actually shattered the glass display and got some in his face. Steph came in a few minutes later as I was on the phone with 911. Fortunately, Steph is a nurse, so she was able to patch him up as the three of us went to the hospital together.
Joey would recover, but he had some issues with glass on his face. He needed some cotton gauze inside his eye, which fortunately the doctors were able to save.
Clearly, I put off my proposal for the time being, but Steph and I agreed to get married. Our engagement was hush hush. Steph’s hours were wonky so she took care of Joey when I wasn’t around. And I should’ve seen the red flags, but I ignored them. They’d hang out together with and without me. They’d be in Joey’s room and lock the door.
One day, I came home and all of Joey’s stuff was gone. He moved out. Steph wrote a note. The note said, “We fell in love and we’re leaving together. Don’t try to find us.”
I didn’t listen and I searched, but true to the note, I couldn’t find them. I’ll never know what happened.
Suffice to say,
if it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe
I’d have been married a long time ago.
Where did you come from, where did you go?
Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?
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Theater
The holocaust or genocide in general (specific history hyperfixation)
How much I love my friends
Politics and how fucked the world is
Psychology
@achronicallive ? And whoever else
I saw this meme going around on twitter and I think it'll be perfect for this account.
List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.
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Y'all, the world is sleeping on what NASA just pulled off with Voyager 1
The probe has been sending gibberish science data back to Earth, and scientists feared it was just the probe finally dying. You know, after working for 50 GODDAMN YEARS and LEAVING THE GODDAMN SOLAR SYSTEM and STILL CHURNING OUT GODDAMN DATA.
So they analyzed the gibberish and realized that in it was a total readout of EVERYTHING ON THE PROBE. Data, the programming, hardware specs and status, everything. They realized that one of the chips was malfunctioning.
So what do you do when your probe is 22 Billion km away and needs a fix? Why, you just REPROGRAM THAT ENTIRE GODDAMN THING. Told it to avoid the bad chip, store the data elsewhere.
Sent the new code on April 18th. Got a response on April 20th - yeah, it's so far away that it took that long just to transmit.
And the probe is working again.
From a programmer's perspective, that may be the most fucking impressive thing I have ever heard.
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in guarani there's a standard greeting that literally translates to "are you happy" (ndevy'apa) and the natural reply is "i'm happy" (avy'a) and as americans learning the language we were so distressed like "but what if we're not happy....." and our teachers were like "that's so not the fucking point"
we kept trying to think of any other way to reply but our teachers kept trying to get it into our brains that it's an idiomatic greeting, it literally is not the time or place to traumadump, and as usamerican english speakers we are not some special exception for saying "what's up" with the reply being "not much" instead of "the ceiling"
but anyway while i was working in paraguay -- the country with the largest population of guarani speakers -- i got sent an article by some friends back home like "look! they're saying that paraguay is the happiest country in the world!"
and the methodology was "we went around and asked paraguayans if they're happy and recorded their responses" and i was like. oh. of course you did. and of course you got a 100% positive response rate.
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new funniest mistake: we did Cinderella right, well during Prince Is Giving A Ball the prince is offstage but still singing with the ensemble and he sung part of his own characters name wrong on CLOSING NIGHT
And he did it confidently
Me and a few other techs were standing near him and just looked at him when he did it until the next part of the name came and he realized lmao
funniest mistake?
favorite part?
Gonna miss the most?
Thank god __ is done.
alright I'ma do this with the entire show process and pray I didn't misinterpret your ask
Funniest mistake- not exactly a mistake, but we do this thing where pickup is kinda a silly rehearsal? And during one of the songs that only the afab people sing the guys and techs were doing the choreography behind them very poorly, and it was funny
Favorite part- see, my genuine favorite part of each show cycle hasn't happened yet but will end in about 11 hours (that being what we do after strike) but my favorite part of the show is one specific line my friend has "every time they speak it's like a part of me dies" the show has a lot of funny/good lines but that one's the best
Gonna miss the most- man I just genuinely love tech week and rehearsals and stuff but also, this was my first time teching and I helped with a bunch of quick changes so I'll miss that, also the seniors I'm gonna miss them
Thank god __ is done- our director is a mess and we're supposed to have a different, better one next year so I guess thank god her directing style is done
anyway, wish me luck, call time is in 40 minutes, show starts in 2 hours and 40 minutes, and I'll be back home in about 11 hours for closing night of our show <3 (strike and our after-strike thing go LONG)
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funniest mistake?
favorite part?
Gonna miss the most?
Thank god __ is done.
alright I'ma do this with the entire show process and pray I didn't misinterpret your ask
Funniest mistake- not exactly a mistake, but we do this thing where pickup is kinda a silly rehearsal? And during one of the songs that only the afab people sing the guys and techs were doing the choreography behind them very poorly, and it was funny
Favorite part- see, my genuine favorite part of each show cycle hasn't happened yet but will end in about 11 hours (that being what we do after strike) but my favorite part of the show is one specific line my friend has "every time they speak it's like a part of me dies" the show has a lot of funny/good lines but that one's the best
Gonna miss the most- man I just genuinely love tech week and rehearsals and stuff but also, this was my first time teching and I helped with a bunch of quick changes so I'll miss that, also the seniors I'm gonna miss them
Thank god __ is done- our director is a mess and we're supposed to have a different, better one next year so I guess thank god her directing style is done
anyway, wish me luck, call time is in 40 minutes, show starts in 2 hours and 40 minutes, and I'll be back home in about 11 hours for closing night of our show <3 (strike and our after-strike thing go LONG)
#Theater#theatre posting#Ask game#(I think)#gandalf. (my friend)#Adding his tag to this because it's his line that's my favorite#Alright anyway.#Closing night of Cinderella <3
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i wasn't tagged but I wanted to do it :)
Would you like to find out what you would be the god of? Take my new uqiz to find out
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We take our final bow, soak up the applause, and stand under the stage lights one last time, and with that, that show is over. We bump out and clear the space and say goodbye to the cast and crew who we won't see as often anymore, not yet fully realising the weight of what we've done until we get home. People who we saw at least once a week, and then every day for a whole week, now barely in our lives until whatever show we both do next.
You can try to bargain with time, gaslight yourself into believing it's not over, but there's no changing that it'll never happen again. Not like that.
So you sit with it, you realise you finally have a chance to breathe after all the chaos. Yet it feels wrong, everything hurts and you feel empty. A shark that has stopped swimming. It's like you've died and there's nothing left for you.
You don't know what will happen to you if you don't find a new way to keep moving before the cast party, but you know you have to for everyone you worked alongside to bring art to life.
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What makes the farmer of Stardew Valley so... different?
What made the Junimos believe this twenty-something loser could be their saviour?
Why does everyone accept their behaviour, and choose to believe they're a friend when their behaviour is almost stalkerish?
Why did Mr Qi believe they were interesting enough to meet?
When anyone else visits the old community centre, they find an abondened building with rotted wood beams and plants growing through the floor, but when the Farmer explores, the spirits of a different world greet them at the door.
Everyone knows of these legendary fish, rumoured, but never seen. The Farmer can find them all with unnatural ease. Willy has worked in the fishing industry for his whole life and he only knew of their existence, and has not once been able to find one.
The explosive force of several kilos of dynamite should be enough to shred a person to pieces, but, it just knocks them around a little.
Aliens crash landed on his property. The witch cursed his farm, the skeletons cursed his luck. The fairies gave him blessings in return.
Why is it that when anyone else looks down, they see dirt, but when the Farmer looks, they find an ancient fossil of unknown origin? Why does regular food and drink change them at the atomic level?
Is it a blessing or a curse to be at the centre of the vortex, forever forced to play out century-old vendettas and be the change in a thousand lives? Wherever the farmer goes, the world moves with them, twisting itself around to curse and appease them as much as possible. Is the Farmer drawn to the supernatural, or is it the supernatural that finds the farmer so alluring?
And everywhere they go, Mr Qi watches, and waits.
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Suddenly struck with a need to explain to you how boat pronouns work (I work in the marine industry).
When you're talking about the design of the boat, you say "it".
When the boat is still being built, your say "it".
When the boat is nearing completion, you can say "it" or "she".
When the boat is floating in the water you probably say "she", unless there is still a lot of work to be done (e.g. no engine yet) then you say "it".
When the boat is officially launched and operating, you say "she". If you continue to say "it" at this point you are not incorrect but suspiciously untraditional. You are not playing the game.
If you are referring to a boat you don't really know anything about you may say "it" ("there's a big boat, it's coming this way"). But if you know its name, it's probably "she" ("there's the Waverley, she's on her way to Greenock").
If you are talking about boats in general, you say "it" ("when a boat is hit by a wave it heels over")
If you speak about a boat in complimentary terms, it's "she" ("she's a grand boat"). If you are being disparaging it may be it, but not necessarily ("it's as ugly as sin", "she's a grotty old tub").
If she has a boy's name, she's still she. "Boy James", "King Edward", "Sir David Attenborough"? The pronoun is she.
If it's a dumb barge (no engine), you say it. But if it's a rowing boat (no engine), you say she.
I hope this has cleared things up so that you may not be in danger of misgendering floating objects.
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Since I’m in the middle of tech week I thought for in I’ll share some wonderful quotes from my directors without context:
- Guys stop singing to each other, are you each other’s gal? No, so lets be serious and play it straight.
- Where are you? On a boat, yes. So I need you all to be dirty and gruff, so be the dirty and gruff seamen that you are. And I’m not giving this note again so every time you do this number think of dirty gruff seamen.
- Ok so everyone stop chewing cum, I meant gum, gum… and spit it out.
- Just make sure to look as sad as the clown next to you.
- Your supposed to look like that so it’s ok if the costume looks kinda whorey.
Bonus quote from my friend who happens to be the directors son:
Fuck all of you, fuck. *turns to the person behind him whose not in places yet and smacking his leg* please stop doing that, do that again and the next place El’s baton will end up is up your ass.
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i don't know man, i just wish that we could [suddenly realising i'm coming dangerously close to expressing a real and earnest thought instead of filtering everything through several layers of intangible running bits] blow up the entire world. or something.
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Note: I am by no means a professional in health or otherwise. This is personal experience. I made this as a metaphor to help my parents understand me better.
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Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.
I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.
This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.
So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.
Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.
“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”
“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.
I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.
Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.
I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.
So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.
While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.
After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.
“I saw your snake,” I told him.
“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”
“He was sleeping.”
“Yes, he enjoys that.”
“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”
He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”
Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.
Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.
“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”
He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”
When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.
All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.
He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”
Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.
In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.
But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.
He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.
By hand.
With a fountain pen.
And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.
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One of the most memorable interactions was Saturday. Into our booth strolls a small family, tempted by free samples of freshly brewed tea. We chatter and give them the spiel, that the tea is character merch and we’re a cozy health-based app called Forage Friends.
The young girl zeroes in on our pride pins.
“They have my pin!” She says excitedly. “They have my flag!”
The dad blinks. He is surprised, but also calm and positive when he sees it’s the lesbian flag. “Oh. That’s… different from what you told me.”
“That was months ago, dad.” And she rolls her eyes. Definitely a teenager.
I turn to him and say, “Yeah, dad.” And we share a little laugh about it.
He says, “No, it’s great. That’s amazing, honey. It was just news to me.”
“Well, I guess I just decided to stop lying to myself. About liking guys. Like right now.”
A little lesbian just came out to her dad and he was super cool about it.
I’m standing there in my tie-dye mask and my cheery blue apron pouring tea and making small talk and I’m trying really hard not to cry or compare it to my experience, the fire & brimstone, the disgust, the conditional acceptance as long as I never bring it up.
So as this beautiful bonding is going on, the girl’s even younger brother turns his gaze around. He’s in a snorlax hoodie and bored and wants to go look at the swords across the hall. But on the other side of our booth….
“WHY DO PEOPLE DRAW THAT?” He asks loudly, and we all turn to our neighboring booth.
Our neighbors were extremely lovely people. Every time we had a break we would talk, and we became good friends over the weekend. They kept apologizing that their booth was next to ours and we kept repeating that it was totally fine. Their booth was great. I even bought their merchandise.
The thing that was so contentious, that they felt the need to apologize for, was that they were selling explicit titty hentai stickers of popular characters. They were censored with little yellow R18 labels but the content was very clear.
So back to the family: I freeze and immediately go somewhere else to let dad handle this question. With adult customers I’ve been loud and positive about our neighbors. (“Man, how has it been boothing next to them?” It’s been great! They bring a lot of foot traffic and they’re kind and wonderful professional neighbors. If anything it’s a fun juxtaposition. We believe in artistic freedom. I bought a sticker too!)
But this is a kid, it’s not my place to explain anything…. But I was extremely curious about what this chill dad would say.
“Well,” dad says with a long measured silence between each word. “Sometimes people are horny.”
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