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So the Great Relationship Experiment failed, and although I thought I had gotten out cleanly I did NOT, as evidenced by a minor fight with the recent-ex (lax...bahahaha I'm ten) in the middle of the night last night in which some issues I had been having with her, long term, finally came to a head and I snapped at her and told her to leave me the hell alone. It felt really good, in a way, although I'm suffering from those pangs that say 'you're gonna be alone forever! gonna be aloooooooooone,' you know, those pangs. Anyway, on the upside, this'll leave a lot more time for the things that really matter, like livejournal ^_^
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Livejournal asks, and I have to answer:
Stephanie Plum, created by Janet Evanovich. She's a brown haired, blue eyed Jersey Girl (a thing that I adore), she has an insane, pistol packing grandmother, a wry sense of humor and her soul mate is a hamster named Rex. Stephanie is also an excellent deconstruction of the macho private eye of Noir and neo-Noir. Think Slam Bradley, the kind of man who solves his case and gets his man through square jawed determination and liberal gunplay, and who has beautiful women falling all over him. Stephanie solves her cases and gets her man (or woman or Santa Claus) through the same determination, but it's aided by sheer dumb luck and her propensity for asking nicely (something which would never occur to Slam). Stephanie also has no less than three beautiful men falling all over her, so it's kind of nice to see that reversal, too.
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as my grandmother would have put it. She always said, 'Well, I guess when it's your time you just gotta expire,' or 'Look at that stupid thing, he done gone and got his-self dead.' Stuff like that. I think they were odd old mountain sayings that you don't hardly ever hear anymore.
But yeah. People my age, I guess we just sort of grew up with not only Michael Jackson's music (Smooth Criminal and Billie Jean are two of my favorite songs ever), but with his wonderful (sometimes scary, though I've never believed he was a pederast) weirdness. Neverland Ranch, Bubbles, little baby Blanket, the whole nine yards. And now all we have is memory and music, dying like a dying fall.
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