Wavedancer Project: commentary, part two
Apr. 30th, 2009 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valis2Intro/Index of all parts | Read without the commentary
Glenn's was in Moray Town, which was a good six or seven miles away from the Island. It was empty, as the handful of families that had summer cottages on the Island had already left. Only the Champlains--our closet neighbors--and two other couples lived on the island during the winter, and it was impossible to see the Champlain's house from ours. The other residences and cottages were all on the other side of the Island, which suited me just fine.
Moray Bridge was almost overrun with water; only the old stone railings kept it from complete submersion. Mike commented on how high the water was. "We'll be flooded out by the end of the week," he added.
I really do like the bridge detail, and living on the island seems like fun. Though in reality it's probably a pain. And island probably shouldn't be capitalized, lol. Anyway, here I'm outlining how isolated the house is. Have I mentioned it's isolated? And almost no one lives on the island? And it's isolated. Apparently I wanted to ram it home that she's antisocial. *snorts*
I should have mentioned, though, that some of the cottages are probably rentals and that the rental season is over. That's more realistic than having it just be a cluster of the same families.
"Storm?" I asked.
He nodded gravely. "Sounds like a pretty big one."
Hmm. I wonder about the "gravely" tag here. Sounds like a bit much for this, but maybe it's okay. I know, I know, the big thing people talk about in writing is not diluting verbs with adverbs, but I can't help it. I love adverbs.
"I've got to remember to fix the boatshed door."
FORESHADOWING! oooh. Unfortunately, I never wrote the part with the boatshed door. So you'll just have to take my word for it.
"We'll have to stock up on supplies," he added. "Did you bring the checkbook?"
Clearly this was before debit cards became standard.
"No, I didn't," I said, and a quick mental inventory of the bills in my pocked revealed a deficiency in the cash department. "Did you bring any money?"
He nodded. "Did you bring the list?"
"Yep." I reached into my pocket and handed it to him, keeping my left hand on the wheel.
I can just see my younger!self: SHE IS DRIVING SAFELY! ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AT ALL TIMES! NO FLAMES ABOUT DRIVING UNSAFELY, PLZ
PS: When I just now typed this, I accidentally typed "mooney" instead of money. Seems that part of my brain is still possessed by the Harry Potter fandom...
After we crossed the bridge the road became paved, which was a relief from the grinding ride on dirt. The bridge itself was terribly old and sunken in, and so close to the water now that it was impossible to pass underneath it, even in a canoe. The residents always got together and complained about it every summer, and ever summer a state engineer would drive down and declare it still sound. It was only one lane, and it flooded every time it rained, even sometimes when it only rained further north of us. It could be a real pain, but I'd gladly put up with a thousand such pains for the comfort and privacy of the Island. Besides, after six years I'd just learned to live with it.
I love the bridge detail. It's a total deus ex machina, but it was a fun one.
And, "the bridge itself"? What does "itself" accomplish here? Should just be the bridge, right?
Also, odds are the state engineer would be coming from the east, not the north.
The road followed the curving edge of the Bay and offered a very nice view of it. Moray Town itself was located at the farthest point away from Lake Huron, at the very apex of the bay. A jumble of docks connected the town to the water, and almost all of the charter captains in the area had their slips there. My business was the only one run off the Island, and it had been that way for years, ever since my great-grandfather had purchased a strip of land there to build his docks. One of the mooring posts he dug was still there, in fact.
This is a bit confusing, geographically, I think. I can't quite picture it. And does one "dig" mooring posts? I think they're driven in.
OH WOW! I totally messed this up!! It should be Lake Michigan, not Lake Huron! ROFL. There is a big difference.
And another unnecessary "itself" creeps in, too.
I liked the "jumble of docks...water" bit; that was pretty nice, and another good image of Moray as both water and land.
Weird that her business is farther away from the rest--and if the bridge floods that often, doesn't it affect her business? I can't imagine how many charters she's had to cancel for that. Not to mention how much of a pain in the ass it must be to give directions to out-of-towners. "You take the road out of town, past the docks...well, yes, but we have our own dock on the island. We're special like that. Now, if the bridge isn't flooded...um, well, if it's flooded, we'll have to make alternate arrangements. If it's not flooded, you take the bridge, and then you get on the dirt road. Go past the house with the little donkeys..."
The road curved further, and then I was driving into Moray Town itself. The main street serviced various businesses, a motel, the library, school, and police/fire station, as well as Steve Dell's gorgeous old Moray Tavern and Lenore's Take-Home Dinners. When I did sightseeing tours out of the Celestial out-of-towners always remarked upon two things; the lack of a streetlight, as if Moray was completely uncivilized without one, and Mr. Ames' Giant white whale sculpture, made entirely out of poured concrete. Truthfully, there had never been enough traffic to warrant a light, and as for the whale, Mr. Ames generally did what he wanted, regardless of what the small Town Council had to say. Most of the residents just shrugged and pretended to ignore it, until one of the summer boys decided to spray paint part of it blue.
Is this for real? Another stupid use of "itself"? Ugh.
Lenore's Take-Home Dinners comes from a meal I ate at Nancy's Take-Home Dinners in a tiny town called Yakina in Canada.
We're also treated to a special dose of Stupid Outsiders Syndrome. The completely unnecessary comment about Moray being "uncivilized" without a streetlight...well, that is not always the first thing that people think. My parents live in a town without a streetlight, and even though everyone comments on it, it's more like...there's not enough population, y'know? It's just a detail that's interesting. It doesn't mean that the people who live there are any less civilized.
The last sentence about the whale sculpture would be so much better without "part of it," which, in my opinion, waters it down too much.
I love Mr. Ames. I wish he had shown up more in the fic, but he never had a chance.
The only other place of interest was Glenn's Grocables, which I was pulling into. I noticed immediately that someone--most likely Derek--had added a bright new green awning. Mike was still in deep concentration, checking over the list, so I elbowed him and pointed.
"It's pretty late in the season to be renovating," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "It was probably Derek's idea." Derek was Glenn's grandson, forever trying to "modernize" the old store, sometimes with less than hoped-for results.
This makes it sound like Glenn is still alive. Don't get your hopes up.
I do like that the "season" is mentioned again. So many towns on the coast of Michigan rely on the summer, and some of them have the look of a ghost town during the winter. I just wish I had actually explained this concept at some point, lol.
"Glenn would have liked it, though," I commented as I hopped out of the Blazer. And he would have, too, as the awning gave the store a quaint, old-fashioned look that Glenn would have loved. It was a shame that he has passed on a few years ago, as he never got to see Derek settle down and apply himself to the business.
Do you think Glenn would have liked it? YES. LET ME TELL YOU AGAIN.
The automatic sliding doors opened up onto a large foyer that contained the shopping carts and a variety of stamp and bubble gum machines. There were a second pair of sliding doors leading into the store itself, and one of them still displayed Glenn's handpainted sign: "Beware of Owner", a saying he'd always been mightily amused by.
*snorts* I actually like that detail, though I'm not happy that the sentence ended in "by."
Wait...is that another one? ENOUGH WITH ITSELF!!
During a business boom ten years ago Glenn had been coerced by his son Paul to remodel and expand, and it now resembled a large convenience store with modern lighting and registers. Glenn had insisted upon keeping the old store, and despite Paul's grumbling they had gone through considerable expense to buy the property adjacent to the store instead of using the half lot they already owned. The original store remained as the liquor shop, retaining the hundred year old wooden floor and antique cash register as well. I was secretly glad, as shopping there with my father was one of the few happy moments I had shared with him. It would have been a shame to demolish it anyways.
I have totally seen this in other fanfics, this desire to keep the old somehow, and I have to say, it didn't work there, and it probably doesn't work here. It's rare that people keep the old part of the store like that--too many problems with lining things up, I'd imagine. I think the only place I've ever seen it work is Jungle Jim's in Ohio.
Also, "anyways" is a word I've tried to stamp out of my speech. It's been pointed out to me that the correct usage is "anyway." "Anyways" is listed in the dictionary as being anachronistic, I believe, though you'll hear it nearly everywhere. However, you rarely hear it on TV, except for, strangely enough, CSI, where Greg says it.
Mike took a cart and we walked through the second pair of doors. He began to circle around the right side of the store, the list in one hand, the other steering. As I walked past the registers I couldn't help but notice the appreciative stares of all of the women present fixed devotedly upon him. Both checkout girls and housewives watched him unabashedly, and I had to admit that he looked great, too, in a pair of well-worn jeans and a flannel shirt paired with scuffed black boots, his legs lean and strong-looking. As I caught up to him I could hear some of the women whispering, and I could guess what they were whispering about. It was no secret that Mike was the most eligible man in Moray.
Too much attention focused on Mike here. I mean, they would totally be checking him out, but "watched unabashedly," especially when paired with "appreciative stares...fixed devotedly" is waaay too strong. And I'm not certain about "most eligible." It's not like he's bringing home the bucks, you know? Maybe "one of the most eligible" would have looked a little better and made a little more sense.
He turned to me, seeming oblivious to the fact that he had singlehandedly captured all of the feminine attention in the store. "I can't read this. Is this apples?" he asked, pointed to the hurriedly written list.
"Probably," I said neutrally, casually looking the other way. The town had enough to gossip about already without me doing anything to encourage it, so I always treated him indifferently in public. Like a friend, of course, but nothing more, which was exactly what he was to me.
I feel like she's screaming to the reader I AM NOT INTERESTED NOT AT ALL LA LA LA. And it's pretty silly. Because she so is, though she refuses to admit it, even to herself. Well, okay, maybe this isn't as stupid as I am thinking it was.
"Do you want caramel too?" he said, looking directly at me.
I turned my uncomprehending gaze to him. "Caramel? For what?"
"For caramel apples," he said patiently. His blue eyes caught mine.
I stood still for a moment, remembering the summer we snuck into town and Mike bought us each a caramel apple, the first one I'd ever eaten. It had seemed like heaven.
"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" he asked quietly, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Just the applies will be fine," I said firmly. "I'll be right back." With that I went to the old store, where I picked up two fifths of vodka, my favorite drink. I paused for a moment and savored the musty scent of the original store and the well-polished floorboards.
WTF?! Vodka?! What the hell is going on here? We've gone from him trying to get her to do something childish and innocent and sweet, and she marches right over to Booze Central and grabs the hard stuff. Holy cow, I had no idea how dysfunctional and weird this was when I first wrote it.
In fact, now I understood why one of the people who read it thought it was going to be the story of a recovering alcoholic. lol!
Emerging from the liquor shop I walked back out onto the cheerless linoleum and found Mike again, who was filling the bottom of the cart with fruits and vegetables.
I groaned inwardly. The man was shopping-impaired. "Where are we going to put the canned stuff?" I demanded. "You're going to have to move everything around."
He glanced at me. "I just thought we should get a lot--"
bwahahaha! Now this makes sense. I'm married to someone who does the same exact thing and I have to have the "Don't squish the produce" talk with him whenever we go to the store.
On a realistic note, why buy a bunch of stuff that needs to be refrigerated? I mean, according to the story they lose power at the drop of a hat, and a storm is coming on. If I wrote this now, I would so have a generator hooked up so they wouldn't lose their produce when they lose power.
"I'll go get another cart," I said, depositing the vodka in the top of the basket and going back to the front of the store.
And lol--she just totally plops the vodka down in the basket without so much as an apologetic look toward him. DUDE DO NOT TALK ME OUT OF MY BENDER WHICH YOU SO CARELESSLY INSTIGATED WITH YOUR TALK OF APPLES AND CARAMEL!
On to part three
Read this section without the commentary
Glenn's was in Moray Town, which was a good six or seven miles away from the Island. It was empty, as the handful of families that had summer cottages on the Island had already left. Only the Champlains--our closet neighbors--and two other couples lived on the island during the winter, and it was impossible to see the Champlain's house from ours. The other residences and cottages were all on the other side of the Island, which suited me just fine.
Moray Bridge was almost overrun with water; only the old stone railings kept it from complete submersion. Mike commented on how high the water was. "We'll be flooded out by the end of the week," he added.
I really do like the bridge detail, and living on the island seems like fun. Though in reality it's probably a pain. And island probably shouldn't be capitalized, lol. Anyway, here I'm outlining how isolated the house is. Have I mentioned it's isolated? And almost no one lives on the island? And it's isolated. Apparently I wanted to ram it home that she's antisocial. *snorts*
I should have mentioned, though, that some of the cottages are probably rentals and that the rental season is over. That's more realistic than having it just be a cluster of the same families.
"Storm?" I asked.
He nodded gravely. "Sounds like a pretty big one."
Hmm. I wonder about the "gravely" tag here. Sounds like a bit much for this, but maybe it's okay. I know, I know, the big thing people talk about in writing is not diluting verbs with adverbs, but I can't help it. I love adverbs.
"I've got to remember to fix the boatshed door."
FORESHADOWING! oooh. Unfortunately, I never wrote the part with the boatshed door. So you'll just have to take my word for it.
"We'll have to stock up on supplies," he added. "Did you bring the checkbook?"
Clearly this was before debit cards became standard.
"No, I didn't," I said, and a quick mental inventory of the bills in my pocked revealed a deficiency in the cash department. "Did you bring any money?"
He nodded. "Did you bring the list?"
"Yep." I reached into my pocket and handed it to him, keeping my left hand on the wheel.
I can just see my younger!self: SHE IS DRIVING SAFELY! ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AT ALL TIMES! NO FLAMES ABOUT DRIVING UNSAFELY, PLZ
PS: When I just now typed this, I accidentally typed "mooney" instead of money. Seems that part of my brain is still possessed by the Harry Potter fandom...
After we crossed the bridge the road became paved, which was a relief from the grinding ride on dirt. The bridge itself was terribly old and sunken in, and so close to the water now that it was impossible to pass underneath it, even in a canoe. The residents always got together and complained about it every summer, and ever summer a state engineer would drive down and declare it still sound. It was only one lane, and it flooded every time it rained, even sometimes when it only rained further north of us. It could be a real pain, but I'd gladly put up with a thousand such pains for the comfort and privacy of the Island. Besides, after six years I'd just learned to live with it.
I love the bridge detail. It's a total deus ex machina, but it was a fun one.
And, "the bridge itself"? What does "itself" accomplish here? Should just be the bridge, right?
Also, odds are the state engineer would be coming from the east, not the north.
The road followed the curving edge of the Bay and offered a very nice view of it. Moray Town itself was located at the farthest point away from Lake Huron, at the very apex of the bay. A jumble of docks connected the town to the water, and almost all of the charter captains in the area had their slips there. My business was the only one run off the Island, and it had been that way for years, ever since my great-grandfather had purchased a strip of land there to build his docks. One of the mooring posts he dug was still there, in fact.
This is a bit confusing, geographically, I think. I can't quite picture it. And does one "dig" mooring posts? I think they're driven in.
OH WOW! I totally messed this up!! It should be Lake Michigan, not Lake Huron! ROFL. There is a big difference.
And another unnecessary "itself" creeps in, too.
I liked the "jumble of docks...water" bit; that was pretty nice, and another good image of Moray as both water and land.
Weird that her business is farther away from the rest--and if the bridge floods that often, doesn't it affect her business? I can't imagine how many charters she's had to cancel for that. Not to mention how much of a pain in the ass it must be to give directions to out-of-towners. "You take the road out of town, past the docks...well, yes, but we have our own dock on the island. We're special like that. Now, if the bridge isn't flooded...um, well, if it's flooded, we'll have to make alternate arrangements. If it's not flooded, you take the bridge, and then you get on the dirt road. Go past the house with the little donkeys..."
The road curved further, and then I was driving into Moray Town itself. The main street serviced various businesses, a motel, the library, school, and police/fire station, as well as Steve Dell's gorgeous old Moray Tavern and Lenore's Take-Home Dinners. When I did sightseeing tours out of the Celestial out-of-towners always remarked upon two things; the lack of a streetlight, as if Moray was completely uncivilized without one, and Mr. Ames' Giant white whale sculpture, made entirely out of poured concrete. Truthfully, there had never been enough traffic to warrant a light, and as for the whale, Mr. Ames generally did what he wanted, regardless of what the small Town Council had to say. Most of the residents just shrugged and pretended to ignore it, until one of the summer boys decided to spray paint part of it blue.
Is this for real? Another stupid use of "itself"? Ugh.
Lenore's Take-Home Dinners comes from a meal I ate at Nancy's Take-Home Dinners in a tiny town called Yakina in Canada.
We're also treated to a special dose of Stupid Outsiders Syndrome. The completely unnecessary comment about Moray being "uncivilized" without a streetlight...well, that is not always the first thing that people think. My parents live in a town without a streetlight, and even though everyone comments on it, it's more like...there's not enough population, y'know? It's just a detail that's interesting. It doesn't mean that the people who live there are any less civilized.
The last sentence about the whale sculpture would be so much better without "part of it," which, in my opinion, waters it down too much.
I love Mr. Ames. I wish he had shown up more in the fic, but he never had a chance.
The only other place of interest was Glenn's Grocables, which I was pulling into. I noticed immediately that someone--most likely Derek--had added a bright new green awning. Mike was still in deep concentration, checking over the list, so I elbowed him and pointed.
"It's pretty late in the season to be renovating," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "It was probably Derek's idea." Derek was Glenn's grandson, forever trying to "modernize" the old store, sometimes with less than hoped-for results.
This makes it sound like Glenn is still alive. Don't get your hopes up.
I do like that the "season" is mentioned again. So many towns on the coast of Michigan rely on the summer, and some of them have the look of a ghost town during the winter. I just wish I had actually explained this concept at some point, lol.
"Glenn would have liked it, though," I commented as I hopped out of the Blazer. And he would have, too, as the awning gave the store a quaint, old-fashioned look that Glenn would have loved. It was a shame that he has passed on a few years ago, as he never got to see Derek settle down and apply himself to the business.
Do you think Glenn would have liked it? YES. LET ME TELL YOU AGAIN.
The automatic sliding doors opened up onto a large foyer that contained the shopping carts and a variety of stamp and bubble gum machines. There were a second pair of sliding doors leading into the store itself, and one of them still displayed Glenn's handpainted sign: "Beware of Owner", a saying he'd always been mightily amused by.
*snorts* I actually like that detail, though I'm not happy that the sentence ended in "by."
Wait...is that another one? ENOUGH WITH ITSELF!!
During a business boom ten years ago Glenn had been coerced by his son Paul to remodel and expand, and it now resembled a large convenience store with modern lighting and registers. Glenn had insisted upon keeping the old store, and despite Paul's grumbling they had gone through considerable expense to buy the property adjacent to the store instead of using the half lot they already owned. The original store remained as the liquor shop, retaining the hundred year old wooden floor and antique cash register as well. I was secretly glad, as shopping there with my father was one of the few happy moments I had shared with him. It would have been a shame to demolish it anyways.
I have totally seen this in other fanfics, this desire to keep the old somehow, and I have to say, it didn't work there, and it probably doesn't work here. It's rare that people keep the old part of the store like that--too many problems with lining things up, I'd imagine. I think the only place I've ever seen it work is Jungle Jim's in Ohio.
Also, "anyways" is a word I've tried to stamp out of my speech. It's been pointed out to me that the correct usage is "anyway." "Anyways" is listed in the dictionary as being anachronistic, I believe, though you'll hear it nearly everywhere. However, you rarely hear it on TV, except for, strangely enough, CSI, where Greg says it.
Mike took a cart and we walked through the second pair of doors. He began to circle around the right side of the store, the list in one hand, the other steering. As I walked past the registers I couldn't help but notice the appreciative stares of all of the women present fixed devotedly upon him. Both checkout girls and housewives watched him unabashedly, and I had to admit that he looked great, too, in a pair of well-worn jeans and a flannel shirt paired with scuffed black boots, his legs lean and strong-looking. As I caught up to him I could hear some of the women whispering, and I could guess what they were whispering about. It was no secret that Mike was the most eligible man in Moray.
Too much attention focused on Mike here. I mean, they would totally be checking him out, but "watched unabashedly," especially when paired with "appreciative stares...fixed devotedly" is waaay too strong. And I'm not certain about "most eligible." It's not like he's bringing home the bucks, you know? Maybe "one of the most eligible" would have looked a little better and made a little more sense.
He turned to me, seeming oblivious to the fact that he had singlehandedly captured all of the feminine attention in the store. "I can't read this. Is this apples?" he asked, pointed to the hurriedly written list.
"Probably," I said neutrally, casually looking the other way. The town had enough to gossip about already without me doing anything to encourage it, so I always treated him indifferently in public. Like a friend, of course, but nothing more, which was exactly what he was to me.
I feel like she's screaming to the reader I AM NOT INTERESTED NOT AT ALL LA LA LA. And it's pretty silly. Because she so is, though she refuses to admit it, even to herself. Well, okay, maybe this isn't as stupid as I am thinking it was.
"Do you want caramel too?" he said, looking directly at me.
I turned my uncomprehending gaze to him. "Caramel? For what?"
"For caramel apples," he said patiently. His blue eyes caught mine.
I stood still for a moment, remembering the summer we snuck into town and Mike bought us each a caramel apple, the first one I'd ever eaten. It had seemed like heaven.
"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" he asked quietly, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Just the applies will be fine," I said firmly. "I'll be right back." With that I went to the old store, where I picked up two fifths of vodka, my favorite drink. I paused for a moment and savored the musty scent of the original store and the well-polished floorboards.
WTF?! Vodka?! What the hell is going on here? We've gone from him trying to get her to do something childish and innocent and sweet, and she marches right over to Booze Central and grabs the hard stuff. Holy cow, I had no idea how dysfunctional and weird this was when I first wrote it.
In fact, now I understood why one of the people who read it thought it was going to be the story of a recovering alcoholic. lol!
Emerging from the liquor shop I walked back out onto the cheerless linoleum and found Mike again, who was filling the bottom of the cart with fruits and vegetables.
I groaned inwardly. The man was shopping-impaired. "Where are we going to put the canned stuff?" I demanded. "You're going to have to move everything around."
He glanced at me. "I just thought we should get a lot--"
bwahahaha! Now this makes sense. I'm married to someone who does the same exact thing and I have to have the "Don't squish the produce" talk with him whenever we go to the store.
On a realistic note, why buy a bunch of stuff that needs to be refrigerated? I mean, according to the story they lose power at the drop of a hat, and a storm is coming on. If I wrote this now, I would so have a generator hooked up so they wouldn't lose their produce when they lose power.
"I'll go get another cart," I said, depositing the vodka in the top of the basket and going back to the front of the store.
And lol--she just totally plops the vodka down in the basket without so much as an apologetic look toward him. DUDE DO NOT TALK ME OUT OF MY BENDER WHICH YOU SO CARELESSLY INSTIGATED WITH YOUR TALK OF APPLES AND CARAMEL!
On to part three
Read this section without the commentary
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 04:38 am (UTC)People nodding (or shaking their heads) gravely: you never hear of the opposite, people nodding light-heartedly. You can nod quickly or slowly, but how do you nod a mood? Sigh. We've all got our pet hates, and that's one of mine. :-)
Out of curiosity, what was meant to happen with the boatshed door? It doesn't get fixed and the storm blows the boats out? Or it doesn't get fixed and someone/thing comes in that shouldn't?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 04:13 pm (UTC)Isn't that always the way with LJ? Sometimes I have tabs open and I mean to comment on them, and then I just end up closing them when I'm uninspired.
People nodding (or shaking their heads) gravely: you never hear of the opposite, people nodding light-heartedly. You can nod quickly or slowly, but how do you nod a mood? Sigh. We've all got our pet hates, and that's one of mine. :-)
Yeah, it's really a weird thing, isn't it? Or when someone "smiles" a piece of dialogue. I'm still working on those things, lol.
Out of curiosity, what was meant to happen with the boatshed door? It doesn't get fixed and the storm blows the boats out? Or it doesn't get fixed and someone/thing comes in that shouldn't?
It doesn't get fixed, and she ends up going out in the storm to try to close it so nothing gets damaged. It's all very melodramatic. *nodnod*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 11:43 am (UTC)Also, I love the idea that she's secretly an alcoholic. 'Mike is pissing me off - time for VODKA!'
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 04:15 pm (UTC)I'm so relieved!! I was hoping that it was entertaining. I mean, I really need to reward people for slogging through the reading, y'know? hee!
I have to say, this chapter made me laugh out loud a couple times while I was writing the commentary. Which is usually a good sign. ;)
Also, I love the idea that she's secretly an alcoholic. 'Mike is pissing me off - time for VODKA!'
I am so laughing that his adorable little suggestion drives her to drink. Seriously, I am the Melodrama Queen. *snorts*
*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-02 10:03 pm (UTC)But "anyways" is something I had a hard time letting go of too. And heh, I never noticed that about Greg :) I think it's a product of early 90s, though I'm not sure.
I love your analysis here - you're picking out stuff that I would never ever think of, and it just showcases your skill level.
<3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-02 11:37 pm (UTC)Oh wow, someone else who gets it! I haven't met a lot of people who do. Seriously.
I love your analysis here - you're picking out stuff that I would never ever think of, and it just showcases your skill level.
Dude, I am floating right now! Wow! You're so sweet, seriously. *hugs*
I'm so glad you're enjoying this! Next piece will be up tomorrow.