oh no, did a korean person die?
Oct. 6th, 2007 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wizened_cynic30 ROCK IS AWESOME.
Reaper is not bad.
Still need to watch Ugly Betty.
Oh, and yeah, I SURVIVED MY MIDTERM. As to whether or not I passed, well, that's another question altogether, but let's not get into details.
Perhaps I was feeling a little emotionally fragile after my exam, or something, whatever, anyway the point is I wrote A.J. fic. It's more like Gilmore Girls than anything I have ever written, except it's like Gilmore Girls but with the Cabots. And Alex's mom is nothing like Emily. Or something like Emily. I don't know. She's sarcastic and snappy and therefore like every other original character I have ever written. I don't care. Neither do you.
Whatever. IT IS TOTALLY CHEESY AND THAT IS WHY I SHOULD WRITE FOR TV. Damn you, inability to express myself in writing in Chinese! Anyway, this was supposed to be Four Times Alex Wanted to Kill Somebody For Purposes Not Related to Work and One Time She Almost Did, except my first thing got WAY out of hand, so I will just post the first thing now and the other four, like, later. Eventually there will be Lorelai. But the focus is on Alex. And her mommy. And A.J.
Four Times Alex Wanted to Kill Somebody For Purposes Not Related to Work and One Time She Almost Did
Alex took A.J. to her Kindermusik class one time and came home with the feeling that all the other mothers wanted her to die. That wasn't quite true; she had the feeling that all the other mothers wanted A.J. to die, but if Alex disappeared as well, she was certain she wouldn't be missed.
The notion was unsettling --- that a bunch of adult women with children of their own would wish death on an innocent two-year-old, even if said two-year-old was cuter, smarter, and in general much more genetically superior to their own offspring. Troubled by the thought, Alex called her mother, who assured her that it was perfectly normal and not at all personal, and that their homicidal intentions were motivated merely by Darwinian instinct.
"It's a dark side of motherhood that no one addresses," Alex's mother noted with a hint of nostalgia in her voice, causing Alex to wonder if her mother might have had one too many Sidecars.
"I could see why it doesn't make the headlines," Alex said, slightly appalled. Certainly she had and never would wish death or harm or even a missing teddy bear on a child.
Her mother assured Alex that she would, in due time. "It's only natural for a mother to want best for her child. These mothers at that Gymboree class of yours ---"
"Kindermusik," corrected Alex, because Gymboree was middle-class.
"Call it whatever you want, Alexandra, but those mothers are there for the same purpose you are. They want their children to learn to play German music or whatever it is that they do there, they want their children to come out more intelligent, more advanced than yours. Remember, those are the same children who will be vying with Little Alexandra for a spot in private school, a place in Harvard, at the top law schools, the top residency programs. If something terrible should happen to Little Alexandra, god forbid, then that's one less person in the competition. One less person to fight against."
It sounded so reasonable that Alex was beginning to wonder why she hadn't thought of that in the first place.
Oh, right, because she isn't a horrible person.
"Are you insinuating that I'm a horrible person, Alexandra?" her mother asked. She sounded amused, which, yes, definitely too many Sidecars.
"I'm not saying that, Mother ---"
"Well, maybe I am a horrible person, Alexandra, but sometimes, you have to be a horrible person in order to be a good mother. Do you remember Rebecca Watson?"
"Didn't she used to come over on playdates? I hated her."
"Well, so did I. She smashed my cow creamer. If it had been an accident, I would have allowed it, but she did it on purpose. It was a Limoges."
"You gave her my favorite doll."
"She took your favorite doll. I didn't want to give it to her, but I had to, because it was the how things were done. She probably broke it as soon as she got home. Wretched, wretched child."
"Did you wish death on her, Mom?"
"Not death, nothing that drastic. I did bear thoughts of ill will against her and her insufferable mother. As you know, Rebecca was accepted into the medical program at Johns Hopkins and is a practicing plastic surgeon in Los Angeles. She gives movie stars their Botox injections for a living. I think she married an actor on one of the daytime soaps. The point is, Alexandra, that my horrible thoughts didn't hurt her one bit, and she is almost as successful as you are. I say almost because she is married and you're not, but you never know with people in Hollywood, she might be getting divorced as we speak. Not that I wish that on her either."
Alex let her mother's words sink in for a moment and thought about how this piece of information would force her to reassess her world. Her self-reflection was interrupted as A.J. toddled into the room, chewing on the ear of One Eyed Bunny. A.J. looked especially fragile after her afternoon nap, eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.
A.J. appended herself to Alex's legs and looked up. "Juicy, Mommy?"
Alex couldn't imagine anyone wishing death on this child, but then again she couldn't imagine anyone thinking that any other child on earth could be superior to A.J.
"I'm not going to be that horrible person," Alex informed her mother as she slung A.J. onto her hip. She poured A.J. a glass of organic orange juice (pulpless), settled her with a plate of organic English tea biscuits purchased from Dean & Deluca. "The one who wants other kids to die just so their kid can be the best."
"That's because you already think your kid is the best," said her mother.
"Yes, well," and Alex didn't know what else to say so she hung up.
*
As it turned out, Alex was that horrible person.
*
Kindermusik was held in an classroom with foam mats covering the floors and walls splashed with bright, blinding colors. On the first day, the instructor had asked that everyone remove their shoes before entering, but some of the mothers had put up a fuss about taking off their Jimmy Choos. Someone could steal their Jimmy Choos while they were in class, which apparently happened on an episode of Sex and the City, and so after a ten-minute debate, the instructor decided that the mothers could keep their shoes on but the toddlers had to take theirs off.
One they were seated in a circle, the instructor scattered a few mismatched and worn-out instruments in the center and told the kids to choose one each.
It was like leaving a pile of meat in front of a pack of starving hyenas and telling them to go for it.
A.J. stayed clinging to Alex's neck as her peers clawed at each others' faces for tambourines and xylophones. The other mothers were watching Alex's reaction, probably surprised that Alex hadn't pushed her daughter into the crowd, and Alex herself was wondering if she was holding A.J. back, if she should be encouraging A.J. to be more assertive (well, aggressive), if by protecting A.J. from being attacked by her peers, she was depriving A.J. a chance to accustom herself to the dog-eat-dog world of toddlerhood.
A.J. pointed at the children rough-and-tumbling in the middle of the circle. "They get toys?"
"Does A.J. want a toy?" Alex asked. She'd deliberately left One Eyed Bunny at home, since One Eyed Bunny was a distraction and Alex did not pay three hundred dollars for four lessons so A.J. could sit in a corner and babble to a stuffed animal, which A.J. could and did do at home on a regular basis.
"A.J. can have a toy?"
"If you want a toy, you have to get one from the middle."
A.J. accepted this compromise. "Otay," she said, and released her grip on Alex's shoulders. Alex held her breath as A.J. walked into the circle, and yes, right at that second, Alex became her mother, in that she wished death and plague and inability to get into an Ivy League school to whoever was going to knock A.J. over or bop her in the head or anything of the sort.
You know what? She didn't even feel guilty about it.
A.J. emerged from the crowd, unharmed, right hand clutching a maraca. She shook it, grinning at the noise it made, and Alex smiled in spite of the fact that it was her lunch hour and she was spending it on a filthy mat with twenty grubby toddlers and their cagey, thickly-mascara-ed mothers.
"Shake it," A.J. said.
Alex nodded. "That's right. Shake it."
A.J. shook the maraca some more, bending her knees to the beat. "Shake it. Shake your booty."
"A.J.!" Alex said, trying to decide whether she should laugh because it was adorable or if she should worry that her daughter was secretly watching MTV.
"Shake your booty," A.J. repeated gleefully, encouraged by Alex's reaction. "Shake it. Shake booty."
"Stop it, A.J. Who taught you to say that?"
"Lorelai," A.J. answered with delight.
Whoever Lorelai was, she was clearly not a good influence on A.J. According to A.J., Lorelai was also the one responsible for teaching her to spit out her broccoli and say no to any type of food that was remotely healthy.
"Well, stop saying it. Nice people don't say that."
A.J. kept on dancing. "Shake it! Shake it! Shake your booty!" Alex had learned to realize when it was time to give up and this was definitely one of those times. She took out her cell phone and began recording the performance for her mother, who'd told her earlier, Why do you think I gave you a camera phone? Do I look interested in what you do at the courthouse every day? I am proud of you for everything that you do, but I'd rather watch a video of the baby doing something cute. Lawyers, Alexandra? Not cute.
A.J. was blissfully shaking away when, suddenly, some monster tyrant came up behind her and whacked her in the head with a tambourine. The whole thing happened so quickly that Alex could not stop it. By the time she'd dropped the cell phone and rushed to her daughter's rescue, the damage had been done. A.J. was rubbing the spot where the boy had hit her, eyes wide, looking as if she was deciding whether or not to cry.
"Him hit me," A.J. said plaintively as Alex reeled her back into the safe confines of Alex's arms.
"Yes, he did," Alex said, kissing A.J.'s head and trying to stifle the part of her brain that screamed, I HOPE HE DIES. "It wasn't nice of that boy to hit you on the head." I HOPE HE NEVER PASSES THE BAR EXAM.
"Him not nice. Him mean," A.J. declared.
"Yes, he is," Alex conceded. "He is a mean boy."
The boy overheard.
And started to cry.
Part of Alex was wondering if she should feel bad that she'd reduced a three-year-old to tears, while another part of her wanted to ask the mother what kind of pansy-ass son she was raising, but both parts disappeared, swallowed by a swelling fury inside her as the mother patted her son and said, loudly, "Listen, Saxton, you are not a mean boy. It was not nice of that lady to say that you were. It wasn't your fault her little girl got in your way when you were playing. She should've kept a better eye on her. Isn't that right, Saxton?"
"Your son," Alex turned to the woman, breaking the golden rule of never directly confronting another parent but instead berate them under the guise of talking to your own child, "deliberately and malicious hit my daughter on the head." With a weapon, she wanted to add, although no judge would find a tambourine made of Lucite to be a reasonable risk of harm. "She could have a concussion or any number of neurological injuries caused by your son's blow to her head. I have video footage of the entire incident, and I could have been on the phone with my lawyer, filing a claim against you for personal injury, but instead I have chosen not to. Do not make me reconsider that decision."
"You insulted my son in public," countered Saxton's mother. "You think I can't sue you?"
For what? Alex thought. Defamation of character? No one can help you with that.
Before any threats of litigation could continue, the head of the center arrived and called them both into her office. A.J. sat in Alex's lap and squeezed the collar of her shirt. Saxton huddled in his mother's embrace, doing the same. The center wanted to avoid negative publicity and was happy to give Alex back her money as long as she signed a waiver saying she wouldn't bring a lawsuit against Saxton's mother, the instructor, the center, or pretty much anybody within a fifty-mile radius when the incident happened. Saxton's mother received the same offer, but demanded an apology from Alex, who refused, and more lawyers would have gotten involved if Saxton hadn't demanded to go to the potty and A.J. decided she was hungry and wanted a snack.
*
And it was over, just like that.
*
"I don't think we'll be doing any more classes for a while."
It was night, and Alex's mother had called to say she loved the video clip of A.J. shaking her booty. It was disturbing to hear her mother say "booty."
"I understand, Alexandra. You don't want to feel like a horrible person."
"It's not that," Alex sighed quietly, "it's just, there's not enough time. You know. Work."
"Of course."
They were quiet, and in the silence Alex could hear A.J. breathing. She sounded stuffy. She must be coming down with a cold, which she most likely caught from one of the kids at Kindermusik (e.g. Saxton).
"Alexandra."
"Yes, Mother."
"Never think you're a horrible person for wanting to protect your daughter."
"Yeah," Alex said, and she was nodding, even though there was no one to see it. "Okay."
"Attagirl," said her mother. "Attagirl."
This one's for you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aquila1nz!!!
Oh, and Zuzu. For her birthday. Like two weeks ago.
Reaper is not bad.
Still need to watch Ugly Betty.
Oh, and yeah, I SURVIVED MY MIDTERM. As to whether or not I passed, well, that's another question altogether, but let's not get into details.
Perhaps I was feeling a little emotionally fragile after my exam, or something, whatever, anyway the point is I wrote A.J. fic. It's more like Gilmore Girls than anything I have ever written, except it's like Gilmore Girls but with the Cabots. And Alex's mom is nothing like Emily. Or something like Emily. I don't know. She's sarcastic and snappy and therefore like every other original character I have ever written. I don't care. Neither do you.
Whatever. IT IS TOTALLY CHEESY AND THAT IS WHY I SHOULD WRITE FOR TV. Damn you, inability to express myself in writing in Chinese! Anyway, this was supposed to be Four Times Alex Wanted to Kill Somebody For Purposes Not Related to Work and One Time She Almost Did, except my first thing got WAY out of hand, so I will just post the first thing now and the other four, like, later. Eventually there will be Lorelai. But the focus is on Alex. And her mommy. And A.J.
Alex took A.J. to her Kindermusik class one time and came home with the feeling that all the other mothers wanted her to die. That wasn't quite true; she had the feeling that all the other mothers wanted A.J. to die, but if Alex disappeared as well, she was certain she wouldn't be missed.
The notion was unsettling --- that a bunch of adult women with children of their own would wish death on an innocent two-year-old, even if said two-year-old was cuter, smarter, and in general much more genetically superior to their own offspring. Troubled by the thought, Alex called her mother, who assured her that it was perfectly normal and not at all personal, and that their homicidal intentions were motivated merely by Darwinian instinct.
"It's a dark side of motherhood that no one addresses," Alex's mother noted with a hint of nostalgia in her voice, causing Alex to wonder if her mother might have had one too many Sidecars.
"I could see why it doesn't make the headlines," Alex said, slightly appalled. Certainly she had and never would wish death or harm or even a missing teddy bear on a child.
Her mother assured Alex that she would, in due time. "It's only natural for a mother to want best for her child. These mothers at that Gymboree class of yours ---"
"Kindermusik," corrected Alex, because Gymboree was middle-class.
"Call it whatever you want, Alexandra, but those mothers are there for the same purpose you are. They want their children to learn to play German music or whatever it is that they do there, they want their children to come out more intelligent, more advanced than yours. Remember, those are the same children who will be vying with Little Alexandra for a spot in private school, a place in Harvard, at the top law schools, the top residency programs. If something terrible should happen to Little Alexandra, god forbid, then that's one less person in the competition. One less person to fight against."
It sounded so reasonable that Alex was beginning to wonder why she hadn't thought of that in the first place.
Oh, right, because she isn't a horrible person.
"Are you insinuating that I'm a horrible person, Alexandra?" her mother asked. She sounded amused, which, yes, definitely too many Sidecars.
"I'm not saying that, Mother ---"
"Well, maybe I am a horrible person, Alexandra, but sometimes, you have to be a horrible person in order to be a good mother. Do you remember Rebecca Watson?"
"Didn't she used to come over on playdates? I hated her."
"Well, so did I. She smashed my cow creamer. If it had been an accident, I would have allowed it, but she did it on purpose. It was a Limoges."
"You gave her my favorite doll."
"She took your favorite doll. I didn't want to give it to her, but I had to, because it was the how things were done. She probably broke it as soon as she got home. Wretched, wretched child."
"Did you wish death on her, Mom?"
"Not death, nothing that drastic. I did bear thoughts of ill will against her and her insufferable mother. As you know, Rebecca was accepted into the medical program at Johns Hopkins and is a practicing plastic surgeon in Los Angeles. She gives movie stars their Botox injections for a living. I think she married an actor on one of the daytime soaps. The point is, Alexandra, that my horrible thoughts didn't hurt her one bit, and she is almost as successful as you are. I say almost because she is married and you're not, but you never know with people in Hollywood, she might be getting divorced as we speak. Not that I wish that on her either."
Alex let her mother's words sink in for a moment and thought about how this piece of information would force her to reassess her world. Her self-reflection was interrupted as A.J. toddled into the room, chewing on the ear of One Eyed Bunny. A.J. looked especially fragile after her afternoon nap, eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.
A.J. appended herself to Alex's legs and looked up. "Juicy, Mommy?"
Alex couldn't imagine anyone wishing death on this child, but then again she couldn't imagine anyone thinking that any other child on earth could be superior to A.J.
"I'm not going to be that horrible person," Alex informed her mother as she slung A.J. onto her hip. She poured A.J. a glass of organic orange juice (pulpless), settled her with a plate of organic English tea biscuits purchased from Dean & Deluca. "The one who wants other kids to die just so their kid can be the best."
"That's because you already think your kid is the best," said her mother.
"Yes, well," and Alex didn't know what else to say so she hung up.
*
As it turned out, Alex was that horrible person.
*
Kindermusik was held in an classroom with foam mats covering the floors and walls splashed with bright, blinding colors. On the first day, the instructor had asked that everyone remove their shoes before entering, but some of the mothers had put up a fuss about taking off their Jimmy Choos. Someone could steal their Jimmy Choos while they were in class, which apparently happened on an episode of Sex and the City, and so after a ten-minute debate, the instructor decided that the mothers could keep their shoes on but the toddlers had to take theirs off.
One they were seated in a circle, the instructor scattered a few mismatched and worn-out instruments in the center and told the kids to choose one each.
It was like leaving a pile of meat in front of a pack of starving hyenas and telling them to go for it.
A.J. stayed clinging to Alex's neck as her peers clawed at each others' faces for tambourines and xylophones. The other mothers were watching Alex's reaction, probably surprised that Alex hadn't pushed her daughter into the crowd, and Alex herself was wondering if she was holding A.J. back, if she should be encouraging A.J. to be more assertive (well, aggressive), if by protecting A.J. from being attacked by her peers, she was depriving A.J. a chance to accustom herself to the dog-eat-dog world of toddlerhood.
A.J. pointed at the children rough-and-tumbling in the middle of the circle. "They get toys?"
"Does A.J. want a toy?" Alex asked. She'd deliberately left One Eyed Bunny at home, since One Eyed Bunny was a distraction and Alex did not pay three hundred dollars for four lessons so A.J. could sit in a corner and babble to a stuffed animal, which A.J. could and did do at home on a regular basis.
"A.J. can have a toy?"
"If you want a toy, you have to get one from the middle."
A.J. accepted this compromise. "Otay," she said, and released her grip on Alex's shoulders. Alex held her breath as A.J. walked into the circle, and yes, right at that second, Alex became her mother, in that she wished death and plague and inability to get into an Ivy League school to whoever was going to knock A.J. over or bop her in the head or anything of the sort.
You know what? She didn't even feel guilty about it.
A.J. emerged from the crowd, unharmed, right hand clutching a maraca. She shook it, grinning at the noise it made, and Alex smiled in spite of the fact that it was her lunch hour and she was spending it on a filthy mat with twenty grubby toddlers and their cagey, thickly-mascara-ed mothers.
"Shake it," A.J. said.
Alex nodded. "That's right. Shake it."
A.J. shook the maraca some more, bending her knees to the beat. "Shake it. Shake your booty."
"A.J.!" Alex said, trying to decide whether she should laugh because it was adorable or if she should worry that her daughter was secretly watching MTV.
"Shake your booty," A.J. repeated gleefully, encouraged by Alex's reaction. "Shake it. Shake booty."
"Stop it, A.J. Who taught you to say that?"
"Lorelai," A.J. answered with delight.
Whoever Lorelai was, she was clearly not a good influence on A.J. According to A.J., Lorelai was also the one responsible for teaching her to spit out her broccoli and say no to any type of food that was remotely healthy.
"Well, stop saying it. Nice people don't say that."
A.J. kept on dancing. "Shake it! Shake it! Shake your booty!" Alex had learned to realize when it was time to give up and this was definitely one of those times. She took out her cell phone and began recording the performance for her mother, who'd told her earlier, Why do you think I gave you a camera phone? Do I look interested in what you do at the courthouse every day? I am proud of you for everything that you do, but I'd rather watch a video of the baby doing something cute. Lawyers, Alexandra? Not cute.
A.J. was blissfully shaking away when, suddenly, some monster tyrant came up behind her and whacked her in the head with a tambourine. The whole thing happened so quickly that Alex could not stop it. By the time she'd dropped the cell phone and rushed to her daughter's rescue, the damage had been done. A.J. was rubbing the spot where the boy had hit her, eyes wide, looking as if she was deciding whether or not to cry.
"Him hit me," A.J. said plaintively as Alex reeled her back into the safe confines of Alex's arms.
"Yes, he did," Alex said, kissing A.J.'s head and trying to stifle the part of her brain that screamed, I HOPE HE DIES. "It wasn't nice of that boy to hit you on the head." I HOPE HE NEVER PASSES THE BAR EXAM.
"Him not nice. Him mean," A.J. declared.
"Yes, he is," Alex conceded. "He is a mean boy."
The boy overheard.
And started to cry.
Part of Alex was wondering if she should feel bad that she'd reduced a three-year-old to tears, while another part of her wanted to ask the mother what kind of pansy-ass son she was raising, but both parts disappeared, swallowed by a swelling fury inside her as the mother patted her son and said, loudly, "Listen, Saxton, you are not a mean boy. It was not nice of that lady to say that you were. It wasn't your fault her little girl got in your way when you were playing. She should've kept a better eye on her. Isn't that right, Saxton?"
"Your son," Alex turned to the woman, breaking the golden rule of never directly confronting another parent but instead berate them under the guise of talking to your own child, "deliberately and malicious hit my daughter on the head." With a weapon, she wanted to add, although no judge would find a tambourine made of Lucite to be a reasonable risk of harm. "She could have a concussion or any number of neurological injuries caused by your son's blow to her head. I have video footage of the entire incident, and I could have been on the phone with my lawyer, filing a claim against you for personal injury, but instead I have chosen not to. Do not make me reconsider that decision."
"You insulted my son in public," countered Saxton's mother. "You think I can't sue you?"
For what? Alex thought. Defamation of character? No one can help you with that.
Before any threats of litigation could continue, the head of the center arrived and called them both into her office. A.J. sat in Alex's lap and squeezed the collar of her shirt. Saxton huddled in his mother's embrace, doing the same. The center wanted to avoid negative publicity and was happy to give Alex back her money as long as she signed a waiver saying she wouldn't bring a lawsuit against Saxton's mother, the instructor, the center, or pretty much anybody within a fifty-mile radius when the incident happened. Saxton's mother received the same offer, but demanded an apology from Alex, who refused, and more lawyers would have gotten involved if Saxton hadn't demanded to go to the potty and A.J. decided she was hungry and wanted a snack.
*
And it was over, just like that.
*
"I don't think we'll be doing any more classes for a while."
It was night, and Alex's mother had called to say she loved the video clip of A.J. shaking her booty. It was disturbing to hear her mother say "booty."
"I understand, Alexandra. You don't want to feel like a horrible person."
"It's not that," Alex sighed quietly, "it's just, there's not enough time. You know. Work."
"Of course."
They were quiet, and in the silence Alex could hear A.J. breathing. She sounded stuffy. She must be coming down with a cold, which she most likely caught from one of the kids at Kindermusik (e.g. Saxton).
"Alexandra."
"Yes, Mother."
"Never think you're a horrible person for wanting to protect your daughter."
"Yeah," Alex said, and she was nodding, even though there was no one to see it. "Okay."
"Attagirl," said her mother. "Attagirl."
This one's for you,
aquila1nz!!! Oh, and Zuzu. For her birthday. Like two weeks ago.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-06 03:10 pm (UTC)And GOD DO I KNOW THE PEOPLE LIKE SAXTON'S MOTHER. THEY ALL NEED TO DIIIIIIIE.
Aww, AJ. Seriously the cutest kid ever. Of course it helps that I picture her as Juney.
edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-06 03:33 pm (UTC)AND THEY NEED TO STOP NAMING THEIR KIDS SAXTON.
Re: edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-06 04:35 pm (UTC)Re: edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-07 12:35 am (UTC)Re: edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-07 12:51 am (UTC)Re: edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-07 12:57 am (UTC)Re: edited because i'm scared of dutch
Date: 2007-10-07 01:06 am (UTC)OH NO THEY TOOK A PICTURE I TOOK. yeah, that's the worst injustice in the world. shut up, fucking whiner.
holy shit
Date: 2007-10-07 06:52 am (UTC)i miss her wee little adorable sister. who is probably fugly now.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-06 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 12:32 am (UTC)wanted to add:
Date: 2007-10-07 12:58 am (UTC)Re: wanted to add:
Date: 2007-10-07 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-06 10:39 pm (UTC)I hope Alex at least got AJ her own maracas. And then regretted it two hours later as she was trying to write legal stuff to AJs musical accompaniment.
And I'm glad Lorelai had already taught Aj the important stuff. But very sad that there's a Lorelai wandering around in this universe who does not know Aj and does not know she does not know AJ (or Alex) and she's stuck with Rory.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 12:34 am (UTC)I don't think Alex would be idiotic enough to get AJ her own maracas. Or she would be, and then have to figure out how to explain to AJ about the mysterious disappearance of said maracas.
They'll find Lorelai soon, I promise. There are just three people Alex want to kill in between.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 08:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 10:44 am (UTC)kidding. glad i captured the mothers correctly. and that this has convinced you of its awesomeness. i'll try to legen . . . dary next. (do you watch how i met your mother?)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 11:05 am (UTC)(today i spent my 5 hours at work contemplating Robin/Robin.)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 11:15 am (UTC)Cobie Smulders is fucking hot. And Canadian.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 06:40 pm (UTC)Haha, I love Alex's mother. On the one hand, it's sad that we never really got Alex backstory, but on the other hand, that backstory was supposed to come in during Conviction, which sucked, right? So there's no way whatever plans they had could have been more awesome than this strangely flighty version of Emily Gilmore.
Saxton I am willing to give a second chance, as he is young and stupid. However, Mom-Lady loses all points. Grow up and realize that Alex is so much cooler than you, so you should stop whining, you evil soccer mom. *thwack*
no subject
Date: 2007-10-08 01:28 am (UTC)Alex has a different backstory in every universe I've written her, but yeah, here her mother is like Emily Gilmore with a budding drinking problem and an addiction to online auctions. Sometimes I thank SVU for never giving me anything to work with. Not that I would've followed canon, mind you.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-07 07:21 pm (UTC)And awwwwww for AJ fic.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-08 01:26 am (UTC)Hee, thanks!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 11:56 am (UTC)"Oh, Apple, you're so hot, do me, Apple! Harder, Apple!"
...teh fook?
(Obviously Apple will grow up to be a pr0n star.)