marnanightingale: (*is 12*)
[livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial: I am so confused by "general audience (gen)" vs slash
[livejournal.com profile] commodorified: yeah
[livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial: ok, pre-slash that contains the word "sodomite" -- I will say "mature", not "general".
[livejournal.com profile] commodorified: sodomite sodomite sodomite!
[livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial: exactly
[livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial: also paederast
[livejournal.com profile] commodorified: I fear we are not mature audiences.
[livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial: that is so very true.
marnanightingale: (*is 12*)
personwhoshallremainanonymous:

I need to bounce the box
I have an oddity in the monitor and I'm hoping I can make it go away

[livejournal.com profile] commodorified

somehow that sounded filthy

personwhoshallremainanonymous:

Sorry, hanging out with too many microsofties, one learns weird lingo

[livejournal.com profile] commodorified

no, i approve of filthy

[livejournal.com profile] commodorified

it sounds like a rather jolly euphemism for wanking
marnanightingale: (bad pants)
Things it is perfectly natural, but a very bad plan, to write on the customs form for a parcel being shipped to the UK:

"1 pr used pants"

Things that take a bit of last-minute scratching out but are probably on the whole much safer to put on said form:

"1 pr used trousers".
marnanightingale: (bad pants)
Robert Herrick, 17th C pioneer of tentacle porn.

THE VINE.
by Robert Herrick

I DREAM'D this mortal part of mine
Was Metamorphoz'd to a Vine;
Which crawling one and every way,
Enthrall'd my dainty Lucia.
Me thought, her long small legs & thighs
I with my Tendrils did surprize;
Her Belly, Buttocks, and her Waste
By my soft Nerv'lits were embrac'd:
About her head I writhing hung,
And with rich clusters (hid among
The leaves) her temples I behung:
So that my Lucia seem'd to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curles about her neck did craule,
And armes and hands they did enthrall:
So that she could not freely stir,
(All parts there made one prisoner.)
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts, which maids keep unespy'd,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took,
That with the fancie I awook;
And found (Ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a Stock then like a Vine.
marnanightingale: (18th century GUH)
There's a new Jack Absolute book out. (The second one, The Blooding Of Jack Absolute, was a good enough read, but it lacked that ineffable... something ... that would have made it a candidate for review here. I think it might have been a tad overedited by someone determined to excise all traces of Mr Humphrey's rather wayward -- but audacious -- id from the final product. It's not very often I call for LESS editing in a novel, but there are always exceptions...)



Our Hero Has Acquired A Horse. Go Jack!

Sadly, the dirty-minded type designer of the first book:



seems to have moved on to other projects. We will miss his or her suggestive way with a trailing "A".

Jack, however, remains his own bad self. I'm on page 8, and so far he's been shagging a Quaker Widow in Newport all winter and is off back to Blighty, leaving her, I'd say, reasonably consolate. (He doesn't think so, but he wouldn't.)

"Lieutenant Absolute!" The call followed the bang of wood on wood as the boat reached the jetty. A rope landed near Jack, followed by a sailor. "If you please, sir," the seaman said, "the Captain says bugger the Irishman ..."

(Page 10. The Irishman has shown up. Naked.

Jack could see now that the man was tall, his naked physique strong, and that he had bright red hair trailing out behind him like a flame...

Ah, yes? Right then.)

Sadly, it is FAR too warm in the office to read, post, IM, or indeed THINK. I am taking Jack off to bed with me, with a device for taking notes on, and will report back later. Meanwhile, those who missed the first round of this are invited to go here for the Jack Absolute review post.

ETA 1:

The Sexy Quaker Widow gave him a farewell letter, but he lost it in the ocean while pulling out the naked Irishman. He is unperturbed by this, despite the extremely high probability that the contents of said letter are going to turn out to be important to the plot.

Page 19: Oh goody, he and the Irishman are bonding on a slave ship. They seem to be the only two aboard who disapprove. Jack just tried to pick a fight with the Captain and his new, um, friend has come to his defense and beat up the Captain for him.

So now they're wrestling. Drunkenly. This all seems hauntingly familiar; I think "Cornish Wrestling" is a euphemism for foreplay in Jack's world. Oh, and they're telling dirty stories about women in a Very Manly Way. And Jack's been admiring The Irishman's (his name is Hugh) physique. A lot.

Somewhere in The Blooding of Jack Absolute - I think it's while he's leading some guy on prepatory to robbing him - it says that Jack gave up boys when he left school and discovered women. I grow less and less persuaded of the reliability of Ol' Inexhaustible's narration ...

Page 26: So they got drunker and bonded over Bonnie Prince Charlie. Hugh's calling him "dear joy" now … and there may be pirates.

Page 40: Hugh just grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. In a very manly-yet-emotional way, of course. On account of him being all gallant and putting on his regimentals. That's one kinky damn Irishman; Sgt. Harper would be APPALLED.

Page 89: (PS: they won the battle. Now we are in Bath.)

This promising romance has been temporarily disrupted by Jack contemplating his honour, and also by the appearance of Hugh's cousin Letitia, aged 17. Jack is smit. (Jack is, by the way, 18. The dear boy. The narrative keeps announcing rather portentiously that he is A Man, but it lies. Puppy.)

Page 96: still smit. Our hero thinks of marriage. He may or may not also think of threesomes. Your faithful correspondent certainly does.

(Plot. Plot. Plotcakes. Hugh has taken to calling him "sweet honey", and he has been hit on by a Macaroni in the Assembly Rooms. Sadly, he was in too much of a hurry to do anything about it.)

167: Hugh and Letitia were Not As They Seemed. (We knew this, of course; it says so on the back of the book.) He is Betrayed. (Though he did manage some sex first. No, with Letitia. The sex scenes have improved since Book One, but Our Boy still has no foreplay. Good thing she wasn't REALLY a gently reared sweet little virgin...) He has Lost His Honour. He will Pursue Them Both and Avenge Himself. (Possibly via threesomes.)

So I think we may conclude that the Humphries id is back and in fine trim, as is the historical cracktastickness. Yes! *punches the air and goes back to read some more*
marnanightingale: (keep typing)
Word count:

10 040.

Go me! Go [livejournal.com profile] angevin2!

Go PEASANTS!

Specifically, go burn the damn Savoy, willya?
marnanightingale: (bad pants)
William Shakespeare in my pants returns ...

Much Ado is just too easy, really ... OTOH, we have sucessfully averted Ye Olde Farte Joke for once.

ETA: [livejournal.com profile] angevin2 has Richard III and Henry IV in her pants!

Act I, Scene I: I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night in my pants.
Act I, Scene II: How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son? In my pants.
Act I, Scene III: What the good-year, my lord! Why are you thus out of measure sad in my pants?
Act II, Scene I: Was not Count John here at supper in my pants?
Act II, Scene III: Boy! In my pants!
(What? in our house?)
Act III, Scene I: Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor; There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice in my pants.
Act III, Scene II: I do but stay till your marriage be consummate in my pants.
Act III, Scene III: What, Comrade! In my pants?
Act IV, Scene I: Come, Friar Francis, be brief in my pants.
Act IV, Scene II: Is our whole dissembly appeared in my pants?
Act V, Scene I: If you go on thus, you will kill yourself in my pants.
Act V, Scene II: Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me in my pants.
Act V, Scene III: Is this the monument of Leonato in my pants?
Act V, Scene IV: Did I not tell you she was innocent in my pants?
marnanightingale: (lawyers guns and money)
[livejournal.com profile] angevin2 once claimed that the BBC's Richard II does not have pantsable track titles.

Now, I hesitate to either argue with a genuine Shakespeare expert or, worse, accuse one of being pure-minded, BUT ...

I hearby present the Second Edition (as [livejournal.com profile] damned_colonial posted the first edition some time back) of William Shakespeare's History in My Pants:

Act 1 Scene 1: Alas The Part I Had In Gloucester's Blood In My Pants
Ew. EEEEEEEEW, I say.
Act 1 Scene 2: Many Years Of Happy Years Befall In My Pants
Act 1 Scene 3: My Lord Aumerle, Is Harry Hereford Arm'd In My Pants?
That's a slightly unnerving prospect. *makes Crown Jewels jokes*
Act 1 Scene 4: We Did Observe Cousin Aumerle In My Pants
This is bad enough if you DON'T know that Toby Jones, who plays Aumerle in this production, also plays Dobby in the Harry Potter movies. Except I just told you. Oops. If I said I was sorry, would you believe me?
Act 2 Scene 1: Will The King Come In My Pants?
That's just too easy. OTOH, so are we ...
Act 2 Scene 2 Madam Your Majesty Is Too Much Sad In My Pants
I find this unlikely, somehow ...
Act 3 Scene 1 Bring Forth These Men In My Pants
Act 3 Scene 4 What Sport Shall We Devise In My Pants?
Form an orderly queue, please ...
Act 5 Scene 2 My Lord, You Told Me You Would Tell The Rest In My Pants
Bet he says that to all the boys
Act 5 Scene 3 Sir Piers Of Exton, At A Later Time We Will Hold Counsel In My Pants
Yup. It's totally a line.
Act 5 Scene 4 But Who Comes Here In My Pants
Act 5 Scene 5 I Have Been Studying How I May Compare In My Pants
A common anxiety, one gathers.
Act 5 Scene 6 Kind Uncle York, The Latest News We Hear In My Pants
The odds we'd get through this without a fart joke? Were never very good, really ...
marnanightingale: (cooking)


Anyone feel a need to ask why I bought this book? No? Right then, on with The Review Of The First 37 Pages:

Let's see. So far we have:

Tattoos, Sheridan, a performance of The Rivals, TWO women, one an actress, Freemasons, the Illuminati, threats of financial ruin, the East Indian company, a Mohawk, a sex scene in a dressing room, a duel, someone cheating shamefully in said duel, an respected old friend and mentor and former commander, the 16th Light Dragoons and he and Sheridan are so doing it.

IOW, NC-17 Sheridan Fanfic. Rawrrrrr.

Pellew will undoubtedly be along, as I suspect we're headed for Saratoga. *squees*

The sex scene, sadly, includes almost all known Fanfic Sex Scene Sins.

Somebody ought to talk to him about proper illicit dressing room shagging *checks credentials*.

Shall report back later. Tally-ho!

ETA: Page 39. His Mohawk name means "Inexhaustible". Of course it does. Silly me.

I should at least finish the book before I start slashing him with people, right? Right?

ETA2: Cover photography by *stalls out* PHOTOGRAPHY?
*ponders means of locating and stalking model*

ETA3: "As you know, Dear Reader, at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham..." (Historical Exposition interspersed with ManPain, 3 pages)

And: His Mission? Page 41: ROUSE THE IROQUOIS. *gets an early start on that being roused bit* and GAIN A TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF THE ENEMY.

ETA4: PAGE 48 AND WE HAVE MIDSHIPMAN PELLEW! AND HE STOOD ON HIS HEAD!

"Jack smiled. He liked Pellew, BEYOND A COUNTRYMAN'S AFFINITY ... Midshipman Pellew was standing gloriously alone, on the highest yardarm. On his head."

They are toasting each other in Cornish.

And they've been practicing... Cornish Wrestling together. On the deck.

*dives back into book*

(later) *sigh*

I have to stop posting and read faster. Also, enter Alexander Lindsay, Earl of Balcarras, who is "tall, so pale his skin appeared untroubled by his prodigious consumption, seemingly effete, with an accent bred at Harrow and Oxford, Jack had discovered that [he] had a core of metal. Sandy was also a prodigious fast bowler, and had TAKEN JACK'S WICKET in the annual Westminster versus Harrow Old Boy's match seven years before. Despite that, Jack liked him."

... He wants to know about the wrestling. Also, Simon Fraser just showed up. With a wee question.

GAH with the ETAs:

(Much later: Jack [has been] awake since an hour before dawn despite the distracting comfort of Pellew's pillow.

... Goodness.)

Final ETA:

OK, done. Still a-squee. And giggling, and just sort of generally --

This book is RevWar crackfic. And I love it. Highly recommended.

Even though I think I have just figured out what it is about sex scenes in much literature of this genre:

Foreplay lasts until the writer gets embarassed. Then, the characters have to fuck so the writer can stop writing the scene. Mr Humphreys is... not so easily embarassed as Mr Cornwell, it seems. Still. One could wish he'd pressed a cool towel to his forehead long enough to let Our Boy actually make a decent job of the ladies in question before resorting to 'they were joined'.

Also, maybe it's me, but that particular euphemism make me want to know by whom they were joined. (I'm voting for Balcarras, myself...)
marnanightingale: (historical fangirl)


Anyone feel a need to ask why I bought this book? No? Right then, on with The Review Of The First 37 Pages:

Let's see. So far we have:

Tattoos, Sheridan, a performance of The Rivals, TWO women, one an actress, Freemasons, the Illuminati, threats of financial ruin, the East Indian company, a Mohawk, a sex scene in a dressing room, a duel, someone cheating shamefully in said duel, an respected old friend and mentor and former commander, the 16th Light Dragoons and he and Sheridan are so doing it.

IOW, NC-17 Sheridan Fanfic. Rawrrrrr.

Pellew will undoubtedly be along, as I suspect we're headed for Saratoga. *squees*

The sex scene, sadly, includes almost all known Fanfic Sex Scene Sins.

Somebody ought to talk to him about proper illicit dressing room shagging *checks credentials*.

Shall report back later. Tally-ho!

ETA: Page 39. His Mohawk name means "Inexhaustible". Of course it does. Silly me.

I should at least finish the book before I start slashing him with people, right? Right?

ETA2: Cover photography by *stalls out* PHOTOGRAPHY?
*ponders means of locating and stalking model*

ETA3: "As you know, Dear Reader, at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham..." (Historical Exposition interspersed with ManPain, 3 pages)

And: His Mission? Page 41: ROUSE THE IROQUOIS. *gets an early start on that being roused bit* and GAIN A TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF THE ENEMY.

ETA4: PAGE 48 AND WE HAVE MIDSHIPMAN PELLEW! AND HE STOOD ON HIS HEAD!

"Jack smiled. He liked Pellew, BEYOND A COUNTRYMAN'S AFFINITY ... Midshipman Pellew was standing gloriously alone, on the highest yardarm. On his head."

They are toasting each other in Cornish.

And they've been practicing... Cornish Wrestling together. On the deck.

*dives back into book*

(later) *sigh*

I have to stop posting and read faster. Also, enter Alexander Lindsay, Earl of Balcarras, who is "tall, so pale his skin appeared untroubled by his prodigious consumption, seemingly effete, with an accent bred at Harrow and Oxford, Jack had discovered that [he] had a core of metal. Sandy was also a prodigious fast bowler, and had TAKEN JACK'S WICKET in the annual Westminster versus Harrow Old Boy's match seven years before. Despite that, Jack liked him."

... He wants to know about the wrestling. Also, Simon Fraser just showed up. With a wee question.

GAH with the ETAs:

(Much later: Jack [has been] awake since an hour before dawn despite the distracting comfort of Pellew's pillow.

... Goodness.)

Final ETA:

OK, done. Still a-squee. And giggling, and just sort of generally --

This book is RevWar crackfic. And I love it. Highly recommended.

Even though I think I have just figured out what it is about sex scenes in much literature of this genre:

Foreplay lasts until the writer gets embarassed. Then, the characters have to fuck so the writer can stop writing the scene. Mr Humphreys is... not so easily embarassed as Mr Cornwell, it seems. Still. One could wish he'd pressed a cool towel to his forehead long enough to let Our Boy actually make a decent job of the ladies in question before resorting to 'they were joined'.

Also, maybe it's me, but that particular euphemism make me want to know by whom they were joined. (I'm voting for Balcarras, myself...)

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