Into Circuitry..

Ow.

Sun, 17 Sep 2006 03:57:59 GMT

Now, I've never broken a bone in my life. Ever. Even the one time it would have been cool to break a bone-when I fell off a ski lift and had to duck and roll with my injured arm because the Irish lift attendant *sigh* was ~~yelling at me~~ trying to save my life because he was madly in love with me-all that happened was some 1st aid eskier had to strap me into a pack thingy and ski me down the path (much to my embarassment) because they thought I broke my arm, but all I did was strain it. I took dance for eight years, got beaten into a puddle of Me-Goo when I stubbornly took the adult's karate class and somehow got thrown into sparring, have done way too many stupid, stupid things before (like being shocked by an electric fence), and have never broken anything, maimed anything, or permenantly scarred myself in any way.

Except for yesterday, when, while half asleep and shuffling around my room to prepare for school, I stubbed my toe on my pull-out drawer from under my bed.

So I know what you're thinking. "It's a plastic drawer on wheels, what's the big deal?" and I will tell you. I am Imelda Marcos reincarnated. I have more shoes than I have purses or lipstick, and because of my obsession, my little pinkey toe is broken. You could throw a body in that drawer and not be able to find it in there. And now it broke my toe.

So I broke my toe. And my mother even agrees with me. But it's not going to stop me from wearing my gorgous new Nine West's anytime soon. I'm incredibly stubborn.

But I know all of you want Kismet...so that will be soon.

The Day After Tomorrow: School

Sun, 03 Sep 2006 23:10:18 GMT

mizenki and I have school the day after tomorrow. How foreboding...

Regardless, I'm looking forward to the expected crazies-much better than summer for me, since mine-you know, my last one as a kid-sucked.

Except for the part where I have my homeroom in a room I KNOW I am not supposed to. In a hallway with the smallest lockers. I'm used to art class first, with a large, 'stuff the body in it' locker. I could come in say 'my Karma is off today' and then flop on the art room couch and sleep for a period. Now...now I have to *scoffs* think? Then? Disgusting.

Whatev. mizenki and I have our club and all the joys that go with it.

Behold!!! More Kismet!!!

Fri, 21 Jul 2006 04:55:48 GMT

So maybe I'll show a lil' more...

“Seth,” she struggled with the words “why didn’t you-”

“Call you, Kate?” he asked incredulously as he instinctively reached for his pack of cigarettes, which Kate removed and dumped into the trash bin. It made a resounding plunk sound. A bit like the period at the end of a sentence.

“Kate!”

“Stop. I realize that you couldn’t call me. You can’t even think about crossing the border without somebody picking up on it. But there’s got to be somebody who could have helped you with all of this.”

Seth looked up from his forlorn glances at the trash bin. “Since it’s absolutely the easiest thing on the planet, walking up to someone and saying ‘Hello, I’m wanted for armed robbery, kidnapping, murder and manslaughter, but enough about that, could you help me kill a couple of guys-yeah, one little thing, they’re vampires’? That’s a level of crazy I will not delve into. Dip a toe in, maybe. Test the temperature, perhaps. But I will not dive into that.” He leaned back and put his feet up on the edge of the desk. “I like to tread in the kid section. With those inflatable arm things on.”

“Oh be serious,” the young woman huffed.

“I’ve found that to be a very fallible emotion, seriousness. Especially when you’re dealing with something that should not- cannot exist.”

Also...

I love talking to my friend Chris. Other than being wonderfully OCD like myself, our conversations make for LOVELY reading material:
Chris: I love our town.
Me: Why? We have no beach, but we have seagulls. That crap a lot. I have a car, Chris, I don't like having to clean it every time I take it OUT OF THE GARAGE!!!
Chris: But we have like every fast food place ever.
Me: No we don't.
Chris: Yes we do.
Me: NO we do NOT. That's like saying you've read every book in the world. You can't. And I like Phily a whole hell of a lot better. They have cheesesteaks. And people ready to shoot you at any moment. It keeps you on your toes.
Chris: I like NYC...It's got dirty subways-
Me: With cross dressers and trannies...
Chris: And you have to wash your hands every five minutes...wait. No I don't like NYC.
Me: I still like Philly. At least they have Geno's. And a really nice pimp on South Street who sells hats. And a Condom Kingdom across the street from a Baby Gap.
Chris: A nice pimp? Hats?
Me: Yeah. Well, he was nice to ME...

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 02:52:42 GMT

So the other day my grandparents gave me my key...an official, weighty piece of something real to hold on to and possess when things get crazy...

Which they have. Apparently I can't really go home this week. I was told that it was better "knowing I was safe with them" instead of being "in and out" at my own home.

I've been living there for several years now, longer than I've ever lived anywhere else. I remember when we found that house, how much work we put into that house, and I finally felt that I didn't have to worry about my address changing two years later, as it had been. I just finally cut ends with my father, and no longer have to list two addresses on things, or tell my friends that they had to call me on my cell because I woulnd't know where I was going to be for sure. They finally just stopped asking me 'what house are you at?' as a way of greeting on the phone.

But I'm happy here. I spent my early, early childhood here. I know all the back roads like I know the back of my hand; I've always been fiercely loyal of this town, defending it against jokes about backwoods people. I've felt nervous these past few years, not living in the woods. I missed the long, thin little winding roads and now that I can drive them and the police are as lethargic as ever, I can really enjoy them.

So it means saving a lot more for gas to get back and forth from meeting with my friends.

On another note...

TO ALL SPARABETH FANS, I've talked to many a first viewer of the film, who hadn't been aware of this wonderful ship, and now that the second film has been released, they've seen the light. I skip with joy in a purely Snoopy move.

Fanfiction:Swanndive

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 06:53:40 GMT

Title: Swanndive
Author: allison_sayne
Word Count: 2164
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of their respective owners, while this little ficlet's idea is mine.
Pairing: J/E
Summary: Elizabeth dove before Will could stop her. Gibbs managed to grit out “Calm down, boy!” as the blacksmith tried to follow her over. He fought back. "For God's sake, she doesn't know how to swim!" he screamed.

Swanndive

Will climbed over the side of the ship first, water logged and panting. Elizabeth could hear Jack below, his voice exhausted and barely holding on to the rope. She rushed towards both of them.

It was the compass, wielded by Elizabeth and the ship captained by Barbossa that led to this place of shadows and fog and figures in shadows. Smoke curled overhead, and in the very distance, one could just make out where the normal Caribbean-blue sky had ended and the London-murky grey had started. Will had not spoken to her much. They had opposite shifts, by his request.

Thank goodness there had never been a ring, she’d thought. Will would never have had the heart to ask for it back.

Elizabeth gave Will a hearty tug and he toppled over the deck, gasping and crying at the same time. The others looked at one another guiltily. Obviously, he had not saved his father. She swallowed the pit of sadness and forged on.

“Everything alright?” Gibbs called to Jack, still hanging over the side. She leaned over impatiently, barely able to determine where he was but for the faint glimmer of some gem on his person and his eyes. And then it came.

At first, she assumed it was some mist moving along the water’s edge, but then it darkened. It took shape. A coil of fear started in her stomach. She leaned over, precariously.

“Jack, take my hand,” she cried, stricken. The glimmers moved, and she assumed his head had jerked back.

“Is that Liz?” he rasped. “It’s as dark as night down he-”

Perhaps it was whatever that shape was, or perhaps he lost his balance, she’d never know, but Jack lost his grip on the slime-covered rope and toppled down into the dim waters below.

“Jack!” she screamed, scrambling to stand on the ledge. Will, lying on the deck still trying to catch his breath and explain what had happened, started to try to get up, frenzied.

In a moment of rational thought, she would have realized her next action could have led to her death; she did not know what was in the water, nor could she determine exactly how deep the waters were. Elizabeth dove before Will could stop her.

Gibbs managed to grit out “Calm down, boy!” as the blacksmith tried to follow her over. He fought back.

“For God’s sake, she doesn’t know how to swim!” he screamed.

Elizabeth sputtered as Jack helped her break the surface of the water. Behind them, they could hear the laughter of Barbossa’s men. Ahead of them was the silence of the forsaken island.

“Come on, love. This time you don’t even have that ruddy dress on,” he rumbled next to her, paddling with one arm while keeping her above water in some strange maneuver that only he could perform. Elizabeth tried to look cross. However, when one has nearly drowned-again-and has been saved by a pirate-again, it is quite difficult.

“Be that as it may, Mr. Sparrow”-she ignored his half hearted mutter of ‘Captain Jack Sparrow’-“I do not know how to properly swim.”

“Well how the hell do you think you’ll ever survive on a ship?”

After their spat (and before the rum set in), he showed her how to swim, with a gentle voice and a delicate hand at her back as she floated on the surface. She ignored his gaze down at her. She tried to ignore the fact she was abandoned on an island with a strange man she barely knew while Will was in danger.

And the horrible, guilt-causing thing was that it worked temporarily.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. Below water, things seemed much clearer. Moonlight (though it was really day before they entered the area) filtered into beams that illuminated the ocean floor below her. She could make out the barnacles on the underside of the ship above. Had it been the Black Pearl, Jack would have had someone diving down to scrape those off.

She looked around, knowing she couldn’t stay down for long.

He was floating nearby. The hair that usually was in disarray and almost dread-locked floated around his face like some sort of twisted dark version of a halo, delicate and black. His eyes were closed.

There was no sign of that shadow. With a furious kick, she started towards him, and only felt safe when she had an arm around him.

Her lungs were starting to burn, screaming for air and trying to spasm, to make her inhale. As she awkwardly started towards the surface, she felt it. The black thing was back, behind her, and it only caused her to move faster.

For an instant, she thought she wouldn’t make it, that she and Jack were going to die in each other’s arms in this Hell (and it could have possibly have been that). But then she remembered something.

“You’ll head up, eventually,” he’d said after she had thrashed her way upward that day. “Dead or alive, If you don’t have a cannonball strapped to your ankles, up is where you’re going to go.”

And then, with his words in her head and his weight at her side, she pushed the last few kicks.

She’d never inhaled as desperately as she did then, Jack’s head bobbing backwards next to her.

“Gibbs!” the young woman finally managed, adrenaline starting to wear off. Pulling him up unconscious was out of the question with her dwindling strength. “Drop the lifeboat!”

‘It’ broke the water’s skin a small distance away from her. The skin on the top of its head was slick, like the dolphins that had danced in Pearl’s wake, but seemed to be much more hideous. She pulled Jack closer to her, keeping his head above the water and resting her cheek on him. The governor’s daughter felt some ridiculous need to challenge it.

“I won’t give him up,” she said firmly. Above she could her them scrambling to lower the lifeboat. “I’ve come all this way to find him, I’ve given so much, I-”

It continued to stare at her, and she stared back. Elizabeth was relieved to hear Jack breathe next to her. That was a sound she’d never appreciated until then. Impulsively she kissed his clammy cheek. “I-I love him.”

‘It’ tilted its head, and she licked her lips nervously. Her small dagger was still on the deck, and she couldn’t lower her hand to search Jack for a weapon, or his head would lull forward. She held him closer, fiercely aware now of the swell in her heart for the man in her arms. Elizabeth had come this far, she would not lose him to whatever this thing was.

It blinked-how she wasn’t quite sure-and then seemed pleased with her response. The lifeboat hit the water a short distance from her as she chanted an exhausted ‘thank you’ to ‘it’s disappearing back.

With some small reserve of strength she didn’t know she had, she pushed him into the lifeboat and then climbed in next to him, breathless. Above they started to pull them back up.

She cried then, as she crawled over to him and held him to her, hearing his breathing and seeing him and knowing that perhaps he’d be fine, in a basic sort of way. Elizabeth hadn’t shed a tear since Tia Dalma’s. Now she made up for it.

When the others finally got the lifeboat back up, they found her positively bawling, clinging to Jack Sparrow. It wasn’t until Jack himself had regained consciousness and told her he couldn’t breathe from her death-grip on him that she finally let go.

Hours later, as Barbossa steered them back to safer seas, Will finally talked to her. Jack was dozing with his back against a rum barrel and his head in Elizabeth’s lap; the woman stroked at his hair, content to hum some little song Will had heard Jack sing before, and now realized she’d taught him. Every now and then her melody was interrupted by the clink of some of the trinkets in his hair. Will Turner took a seat across from them. For once, she did not feel guilty, and seemed only confident she knew where the conversation was going.

“Elizabeth,” he finally managed quietly after a time. She looked up, smiling sadly.

“I know, Will. And I am sorry.” The others were clumped on the other side of the deck, pretending to not notice that Elizabeth was talking seriously with her fiancé or that Jack was in her lap. She pretended not to notice as well. “I think there was a time that-maybe-if things hadn’t happened as they did-”

Will shook his head, his shoulders settling before he met her gaze as if coming to terms with what came next. “No. You wouldn’t have been happy. You’d be a blacksmith’s wife and have the children and always wonder if you had made the right choice.” His voice was thick, and he swallowed. “That storm was a sign. I knew it and you knew it.”

Neither spoke for a time, only listened to the water rushing past them in a whisper that reminded her of satin skirting along the floor-or perhaps it was that satin along the floor had always reminded her of the ocean.

“I didn’t know you could swim,” Will said, breaking the silence.

“Jack taught me,” Elizabeth said simply. This caused Will to smile. The same one she’d had before.

“When we return,” he started but then seemed to change his mind, “if we return…I do not expect you to-what I mean to say is that-”

For a moment, she glimpsed the little boy who stuttered and could barely see through his mop of curly brown hair. She could hear the echoes of their laughter as they cried out ‘Let’s play pirates!’ in some little cave in Port Royal. And then it was gone.

Will exhaled heavily. “You love him, Elizabeth. I can see it plain as day, now. And no doubt you’d have jumped off the side to save him even if you did not know how to swim. I want you to be happy, Elizabeth. First and foremost. As a friend I want that for you. Consider the engagement broken.”

Elizabeth swallowed, trying to speak but finding herself unable to. Will seemed to notice and shook his head, no need for the thanks she was trying to verbalize. He stood and kissed her softly on the head, the way a brother would.

“I wish you both happiness, Elizabeth. All the happiness in the world. And he better treat you right.”

With that, he was gone, walking back to the group.

“Who says that I won’t?” Jack asked, perfectly awake and eyeing the woman above him. She tugged lightly on his hair.

“You were awake that entire time weren’t you?” He struggled to sit upright and looked at her with twinkling eyes. There was something solemn behind the glitter, though. The past month’s events had changed him-or perhaps they only brought to the surface a part of him that had always existed. She’d live an entire lifetime to find out if she had to, and to show him she really was sorry about what she’d done.

“Pirate,” he said in a way of explanation, happily, and Elizabeth could only sigh and settle back into his embrace as he drew her up against his chest. He was quiet as he looked out at the waters, and Elizabeth looked up at him.

“I’m not a gentleman, Lizzie,” he said, still not meeting her gaze. “I’ve never been to a tea party or church service-well, I’ve been to a church service but I was sort of actually leading it you see and-”

Another time, another place for that story. “I’m not much of a lady, anyway,” she replied. Long ago her hands had become so calloused that they snagged fine satin. She was quite thoroughly brown and muscles had started to grow in her arms. She took the opportunity to wind them around his waist. “And I fought for this.”

He looked down at her, confused at first but then seeming to understand as she eyed him. “I fought the devil for this.”

He knew, obviously. She could tell from the fear that passed through his eyes. Then, he continued on with what he was saying. “But I will try. I’m a cad and a slimy black-heart and all sorts of horrible things.”

“And I chained you to a ship to die. Tell everyone else that lovely little description,” she airily replied. “But I know that’s not really you. I’ve said it before and I meant it: you’re a good man-and I love you.”

That seemed to settle things, since Jack became quiet again.

He tapped her foot with his grimy ones. “So, do you know where you can find the Captain of this here boat? I do believe you and I have something that needs to be done.”

Elizabeth grinned.

EDIT: Barbossa Barbossa Barbossa. There. Sorry, guys. This week has been absolutely insane...work, groups of eleven year olds sleeping over, and surgeries and tooth fillings...

Fanfiction: And Beyond

Mon, 10 Jul 2006 05:04:18 GMT

Title: And Beyond
Author: allison_sayneRating: PG
Word Count: 491
Summary: Elizabeth after DMC's events and the 'stupid compass'.

And Beyond

A One-Shot by Rose with Thorns

DMC SPOILERS!!!!

The sea called to her, curling around her and tugging at her hair. Come back to me, it called.

She ignored it.

The full moon cast shadows over her coverlet, her floor, her. It fell just short of Elizabeth Swann, in her bed at the Governor’s mansion, who sat staring fixatedly at the compass. It was solid, it was dark. It smelled of Jack.

“It points you in the direction of what you want most in the world”.

It had, and then she’d left him chained to Pearl, with his taste and the taste of rum on her lips, and guilt eating at her stomach.

She caressed it, revered it. She whispered to it: “Show me.”

It spun, twittering about, and then…

It pointed straight forward.

“The sea, I know!” she cried furiously, tears coming unbidden. She threw it furiously. “The bloody sea!”

“Easy with that, love.”

The leather of his sun-tanned skin stood out in the moonlight, eyes glittering with their usual keenness. It was not a shadow shaped into a wish. He was there. Straight ahead at the end of her bed.

Elizabeth choked on his name, surprised that it was so hard to shape a one-syllable word and verbalize it. But it was more than that. It was everything. Everything and anything she needed in life.

He was so warm, so strong and smelled so good. He was so close.

“I couldn’t-I needed-”

“I know, love,” he whispered into her hair, lips so painfully close that her lips burned.

“And I’ve hated myself for it ever sin-”

Their kiss before was nothing like this. ‘I need you’ it said. ‘This is for Forever’ it said. In a lithe move, he covered her, his mouth tracing the lines of her neck. She fought to recapture his mouth as it made its way to her ear. She clung to him. This was her anchor, her port in the storm. Her everything clichéd and trite and overly used to describe that basic human need.

“It’s not broken, Lizzie,” Jack rasped, gruff and desperate, as if trying to call, undiscovered by another over some great distance. “The compass is not broken. Find me, love.”

Breaking the surface of the dream, Elizabeth gasped for air and sat up. She looked over the edge of the hammock. The others, those not on shift, snored quietly around her in the dark. The compass was next to her side.

She put no credit in dreams-nor Barbossa, who was the reason for the daggar she slept with and her hammock’s close proximity to Gibbs’.

“Find me, love.”

Instinctively, she opened the compass. ‘In the world’ he’d said. Elizabeth watched as it hopped around hopelessly. And then it stopped, pointing resolutely in one direction.

To the end of the world and beyond, she’d promised, and that was much more of a promise than ‘Till Death Do Us Part’.

Fanfic: From One Bird How to Sing

Mon, 03 Jul 2006 08:03:43 GMT

AU: Elizabeth Page, daughter of New York's governor, is happy and content in her hectic, completely scheduled life as a museum curator-sort of. But when a newly acquired piece of artwork is stolen and philanthropist and entrepreneur (read: THIEF) Jack Voegele sets off to find it and she follows, her life changes (though if it's for the worse or the better may take her longer to determine).

From One Bird How to Sing

By Allison_Sayne

Prologue

The waves crashed along the beach, though the two lovers paid no attention to them. How could they, for-after all-they finally were in each others arms.

“I think this is a fresh start for us, my love,” he whispered. He brought a hand up to her face, speckled with sand. She beamed at him, the wind tangling her hair and opening up his billowing shirt wider.

“Yes,” she said. “I think so, too.”

“And I think that’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever sat through,” said Elizabeth as she lustily hit the ‘Stop’ button on the DVD player. Her friend looked up at her groggily. He was cute like that, she mused. But only until she realized he had forgotten whatever it was she’d been talking about prior to that adorable look.

“I thought you’d like it,” Will said sleepily. The DVD player whirred slowly to a stop and Elizabeth slipped off the couch, padding over in sock-clad feet while glaring over her shoulder at him. “One of the girls in Victoria’s said they liked it,” he added, as if to defend the choice.

“You mean Melissa, the forty-something with a romance novel sticking out of her apron pocket and a self-proclaimed, abnormally large amount of love for her cats? Of course she would love it.” Perhaps it was mean to talk about the dreamy-eyed waitress that way. She always did give Elizabeth an extra-large slice of pie-or rather, Will would order for the two of them and she’d serve it to him, smiling.

He scrambled up, as if aware that the night was closing to an end. “But it had what’s-his-face-in-it. That guy with the bald head?”

Liz Page snorted and gradually started moving towards the door with him following, a wave in her wake. She always led, regardless of the occasion. A lifetime of being a successful politician’s daughter seemed to be her only explanation for that strange phenomenon.

He nodded, a finger running along the glossy black DVD case, just as he would her hair-one of his odder habits developed during their lifetime acquaintance. “I’ve got work tomorrow, so-”

She nodded, knowing. “Call me tomorrow night, then, alright?”

The kiss was brief, a peck on the cheek that left him blushing. “Yup.” The creak of well worn construction boots and the following thuds of shoelaces and he was gone. Liz settled back onto the couch.

She really did love him in a brotherly way. It was one of those comfortable relationships right from the start. His mother had been Elizabeth’s nanny during their younger years; she was deposited in his playpen on the very first day. After twenty three years of Halloweens in matching costumes made by his mother and earlier on, bubble baths at the same time, one could only presume that they either were the best of friends or absolutely hated one another. They were nothing like siblings, though. They’d shared their first kiss after school when her high-scale preparatory school let out in the third grade. He’d always held her hand when they crossed the street: it was a habit that still remained. Now, he’d continue to hold it, furtively casting glances in her direction to make sure it was fine.

And it was. She guessed.

Elizabeth frowned down at her toes at this. Part of her was very concerned that she did not have some burning, passionate love for him. His mother now grinned openly at her when she came over, as if knowing her son was going to ask her out any day now. Elizabeth would go over for tea, and then go out for a drink with Will when he returned from his job at the construction site. It was a pattern, a fixed routine. She could depend on it, just as she could depend on the sky being blue and grass being green and that ‘I’m a minute away’ from a client meant fifteen minutes on a good day in her beloved New York City.

Strike that, she thought, glancing out the windows to the bay, it was the ocean she loved. She had been born in a tiny town in Jamaica and had visited from time to time when she was younger, and still knew her mother.

Much younger, since the last time she’d talked to her was at least ten years ago.

From her window, Liz could see the waves as they crashed against the beach, and sometimes, above the sirens and the sounds of cars and shoes on pavement, she could hear she could even hear them. It left an emptiness in her, a strange feeling she couldn’t quite understand, but it would make her take a step back and reexamine her life: the appointments, her public appearances for her father’s sake, her own miserably floundering social life and it’s marzipan-thick friends. Her hand would twitch, as if ready to purchase a ticket on the next plane to some tiny island.

And then reality would set in, and the governor’s daughter would set about preparing for the next day, settling in an almost lethargic way into a well-worn routine that offered no surprises or disappointments she didn’t already know about.

Funny thing about life like that, whenever you really get into it- I mean really get into that almost Zen-like state (that knitters talk about)-is that it always sends you something you’d never expect.

Always.

Author’s notes:

The title is taken from an e e cummings poem called ‘you shall above all things be glad and young’. And the full line two lines are

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing

than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

Sun, 21 May 2006 06:22:24 GMT

Bah. Movie finished. Got paid. Got into NHS. Got car. Got problems out the wazzooo..

Working on Kismet again...

“So?”

Seth looked up from his desk. Kate stood at the door, seeming to be poised to turn and leave in any moment. She’d successfully avoided the past three days, since the girls had all gone their separate ways and were traveling around town. He turned his chair to face her.

“We’re talking again, I see.”

With a small sigh, she took another step in. The gash was healing nicely. Her shoulders were a nice new tan color and her cheeks were just a little bit windburnt. She wasbiting her lip in a way that just may drive him nuts.

Lip biting had never seemed attractive to him. Women had gone insane for Clinton for the same reason, he recalled. That was shortly before his brother had broken him out. Kate doing it might cause him to change that idea. He didn’t want to see a train wreck; internally he begged her to stop.

She did.

“What have you decided to do about your little situation?”

He tossed his pen down. “Kate...” he started, but apparently she had other plans. The girl walked determinately over and plunked her purse down.

“Look, you may not want to here this, but you’re going to. No one else knows what you’re dealing with, do they? You know that I can help. So let me,” whatever had caused that hard look in her gaze now softened. “I’m with you in this, if you’ll let me be.

“And don’t worry about before-I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“But they were true.”

“And rude-and don’t interrupt. So tell me what’s going on here.”

So he did.

I've never watched Gray's Anatomy before. My mother does. Then, the 2nd part of the season finale was on and I sat down when I saw the guy from Supernatural was on and I was like, "Ohmygawd this is pretty good. Ohmygawd how many times can he nearly die? And those two have eye sex? And how ugly is the pod doc?" So next season, I will be watching. Sheesh.

And Life with Derek...I've lost it...and I've read one too many Daseys...it only gets me more confused about my own sim. sit.

Ick.

Til I dropped

Sun, 07 May 2006 23:42:59 GMT

I've waited until LAST MINUTE to do all of my J. Prom shopping. Take it from me, if you haven't gone yet, don't. Wear a paper bag. Or a lamp shade. Or don't go at all. Everything has been picked over and unless you're willing to shed big bucks/ found a genie, then just DON't GO.

Anywhoo, shout out to Nina, my faithful-as-ever reviewer. You rock, dear.

Hey, Brain...

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 05:05:37 GMT

Sup? Remember me? I'm that piece of bones and flesh and stuff you're attached to? Yeah. Heh. Listen, could you do me a favor? Could you please, like, STOP ALLOWING IN ALL OF THE HOMELESS PLOT BUNNIES OUT THERE? AND THEN LETTING THEM USE MY HEAD LIKE A FREAKIN' BREEDING GROUND?!?! Great. Thanks. Buh-bye.

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 04:55:45 GMT

Snagged my icon from fairyxcake. Thought I should give credit.

I am going to get 'Tom Harris' tattooed on my bum...

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 05:34:15 GMT

Why? Because I just finished Hannibal. And it was amazing, even the very end. Harris gets you to initially root for Lecter, and then in retrospect realize just how horrifying he really is. The dinner see is by far my favorite EVER in a book...

Clarice: (muttering about something in a drugged haze)

Lobotomized! Krendler: OMFG EVIL BITCH WHORE!

Lecter: (shoots him in head)

Clarice: (oblivious) Soo, anyway...

Now I have nothing to read for the rest of break. And I saw this blatantly ignoring Dante in the corner.