darkestnova

So I'm with my parents and...I just want to go home. Even though everything is lovely and good. Maybe because of that. Meh.

Also, I have the Black Death. It's the best disease I've ever gotten! Especially in the mail.



I tossed it at Techie, but she failed to catch it.

Thank you, Smegabyte!


(Ooooh, they have Streptococcus pyogenes! I was terrified I was going to get that when I was a kid.)

Alive. Blah.

Football may be a big deal in other parts of the country--in fact, I know it is--but only in the southeast would we blow up a school over it.

I glanced at the paper during a slow moment at work this morning, and read an interesting little story. Twenty-five years ago this week, Central High School (where I deliver quite frequently) was undefeated and riding high. Then they suffered a crushing defeat by Tuscaloosa County High. Central responded by planting a bomb at County's front doors. No one was killed, but there was some serious damage done to the lobby.

High school football, guys. That sort of fervor pales in comparison to feelings over college ball. I am not looking forward to working the LSU game this weekend.

Sent to me by my grandmother:




And it begins...

For me, Halloween was never really about the candy or the costumes or the mayhem. It was about the horror movie marathons all month on every channel. So this year, without cable, what was the point?

I did almost kill a guy with the sheer force of my hotness. It was neat. You know, once he'd started breathing again and all.

Herbert made an amazing Wesley Dodds. And Fluffy was just precious as Pee-wee Herman.

(Weird thing, though: without my glasses, I kept looking at him and thinking he was John. I am very nearly legally blind without corrective lenses, so it probably doesn't mean anything, but still.)

I forgot about Daylight Saving Time, so I'm just killing time for an hour. Bored.

Ow. Slammed my hand in a door. I've never had anything purple up this fast. Neat to watch.

I was misinformed regarding the scheduling of Rocky Horror. I can make it if I rush through closing. But it just doesn't seem worth the effort anymore. I don't care today. About anything. At all. Ten minutes ago a bus almost hit me. Meh.

I hate being female, all small and...dainty and shit. I hate delivering food at night and having to be afraid when some assholes decide to follow me through the parking lot, giggling to each other and staring at me like I'm made of tasty corned beef. I hate knowing that physically, I'm no match for any one of the three of them. I hate that they didn't do anything to me and I was still scared. I hate having to be afraid of anyone or anything.

I also hate that streetlights burn out when I walk under them, but that's a different matter entirely.

God, I love Lisa. She wants me to come to work in costume Saturday. So I don't have to be a responsible adult for Halloween after all! Except for the fact that I...you know, will be.

And stuff.

Le sigh.

My Halloween plans are blown. The New Orleans thing was already off, because Lisa needed me to work on Halloween because nobody else wanted to, which is pretty fucking typical, but whatever. I've been invited to all kinds of cool shit going on right around town, and having asked for this weekend off a month and a half ago, I actually had the time to go out and do it. There's the masquerade ball on the evening of the 30th, followed by Rocky Horror that night. Then on the 31st I could still catch most of the Mallet party after work and stay out as late as I wanted and sleep in the next morning. It was a wonderful fucking plan.

So what did I hear when I got to work today?

"Michael's mama call. He quit."
"Wha?"
*shrug* "You have to drive now."

So, yay for me being a delivery driver and all, but what the fuck? I just got used to having occasional time off work, and now I have to cover for this asshole? So much for my life. And why? His mom didn't even give a reason.

Quick lesson for whoever: if you want to quit your job, fine. Give notice. Do not just neglect to show up for work one day. And have the balls to break the news yourself. If you do not do this, one of your former coworkers may hunt you down and beat you have to death with some sort of bludgeoning instrument.

(Only half to death, because Michael's a really cool guy and I'm quite fond of him. Plus his girlfriend still works there, and I don't really want to have to cover for her while she's grieving.)

Two women are walking through the forest. One turns to the other and says, "God damn it, Sparklepants, the trees cannot be vampires. DNA doesn't work that way."

"I beg to differ," says a deep, booming voice, and a bizarrely iridescent vine wraps around the Captain's ankle and hoists her into the air. She hangs upside down, surly and disgusted, and as she is slowly digested her only consolation is the sight of Stephenie Meyer being pelted with rocks by a vengeful Rachel Berenson.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, Edward and Bella are having lots of sex. Edward bites another tree, thus spreading the plague of annoyance even further.


My dreams are getting weird again. I'm kind of happy about it! I haven't had a single scream-awake nightmare in all the time Techie's been gone, at least not until Friday, when I...well, I did, that's all. (Ops and Meimei, don't go to the circus for a while. That's all I've got to say.)

It's weird, though, that now that I'm having vivid dreams again, they're almost all Twilight-related. And in every Twilight dream I have, Sparklepants herself shows up, as does at least one of the Animorphs. Sparklepants is always there to tell me that I'm messing up the story (like when I was supposed to be falling in love with Edward, but I kept getting bored and going to hang out with his cool gay brother) and the Animorphs are always there to encourage me ("Dude, it doesn't matter if Stephenie Meyer doesn't believe in gay. Let's ditch her and get some ice cream!")

Sometimes my head is an awesome place to be.

What to do tonight? Go to a bar with the guy named Steven? Party at Fluffy's house? Interesting sex with Scott? Stay here and write? Go home and sleep? I honestly have no idea which would be the most fun. TGNS is really cool, but I don't know if I'm up for a date in an unfamiliar bar, and he's too short for me to try out my new boots. Fluffy's place would be much more low key, I think, but it's a bit of a drive, and I don't know that it's going to be as small and casual as I'm hoping. Scott's out of the running until I shave my legs, and besides, I don't think he gets that yes means yes. (I don't actually especially want to, but he mentioned chains and I am curious. Even if I don't suddenly find the thing that makes me want to embrace my sexuality, I'm sure to learn something.) Then again, I've got all kinds of things I want to write, because we had a very slow day at work and I didn't have any paper (because I'm wearing my stupid fempants, and everyone knows no woman could ever possibly need pockets; that's what purses are for) so I worked it all out in my head. Four Villainyverse storylines. But now I'm losing focus. Probably because I haven't actually slept in a couple of days. Meh, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

-RANDOM!

(Also, this morning I left my keys at Lai Lai and had to break into my own apartment. It wasn't at all difficult, since the windows don't have screens or locks, but it was still fun imagining what the neighbors must think.)

Because my very dear friend, anonymous, asked, here's the song that hooked me on Tom Waits.



It's a really pretty instrumental cover. None of the live versions on YouTube hit me the way the album version did.

So, I went out and got Miss Fosse a collar. But after putting it on her, I immediately took it off again, and not just because I seriously overestimated the size of her scrawny little neck in the pet store. Her reaction was so hilarious, I couldn't bring myself to let her get used to it before Techie returned. I also held off on getting her an ID tag.

As I was leaving, I noticed that the Halloween Warehouse has taken over the Old Navy next door again. So I went inside, even though it always depresses me.

When you're a little girl, if you want to be something cool for Halloween (and your mother is not creative) you can be a pretty princess, of course, but you can also go to the boys' section and be a ninja turtle or Darth Vader or what have you, because even though those are costumes for boys, you're pretty much shaped the same. But if a grown woman wants a storebought costume, her choices are pretty much whore or sheet ghost. And I'm not just referencing Buffy here, it's completely true. And I guess there's nothing wrong with sexy costumes, but does that have to be all there is? It's not me. I am not about TEH SEX. If I want, for example, to be a superhero, I'm not doing it so my boyfriend will have something interesting to take off me. I'm going to want to look something like the version in the comics (and, honestly, do those costumes really need any more sexing up? Do we have to get rid of even the barest hint of practicality?)

So there I was, standing in front of the superhero costumes, grimacing at the slutty miniskirted Batgirl and the even sluttier female Robin, and also a fairly accurate Wonder Woman, since there's really not much there to improve on. And I was wondering what that low-cut Robin top would look like on someone with breasts smaller than her head, when suddenly I saw it: The Flash. (Okay, I almost typed "The Flesh" just now. Hmm...I should write more of The Nude Avenger.)

The first thing I noticed was that almost every inch of skin was covered. The shoulders were bare, but the gloves came up well past the elbows, which made it a bit less attention-grabbing. There was a miniskirt, of course, but it was over nice solid spandex tights. Even the mask looked like something that could be used for concealing one's identity, rather than just...you know, being there.

(And, okay, I admit, the second thing I noticed was that the model was a B cup.)

There was only one of these gloriously practical and non-stripperish costumes hanging there, and it was just my size. I grabbed it and ran like the wind.

Of course, shortly before reaching the checkout counter I remembered that I'm not that big a fan of the Flash, and I have no real desire to dress up as him for Halloween or at any other time, and if I did want to I could make my own costume, and besides that miniskirt really was silly.

On my way to put it back, I passed through the shoe section.

Now I have new boots.

And I love them. This is a new experience for me, the overwhelming desire to purchase impractical footwear. But I'm glad I did. Techie was right about wearing heels. It's already starting to counteract whatever old injury it was that was impeding my flexibility. I can point my toes a little bit! I've been working on stretching the tendons for four months, but still. I think the new shoes are helping. And four inch heels aren't nearly as hard to walk in as I thought they would be.

I was a little embarrassed though, when Lisa came over to see if I could work for Naomi (the little sicky) and caught me playing dress-up.

She met Fosse and immediately fell for the little devil, and couldn't stop exclaiming over how beautiful she was. Everyone who meets my kitten shows exactly this reaction. She's my little Ruh-nez-may. Sue.

(I will never make that reference again.)

Flu. They finally let me come back to work, so I'm pretending I'm not sick anymore. Or maybe I have my cause and effect wrong.

The day I realized I was going to have to take some time off (of my own volition even) I went to the library and got Breaking Dawn. I always glance at the shelf as I pass and it's never there and I'm always glad because I wasn't looking forward to reading it, but when it was there I couldn't help myself. I wasn't bored enough or delirious enough to make it a good book (though I came close on both counts) but it wasn't as bad as The Host. And I don't remember the things that made me angry. Evidently I should only read things this bad when I'm this unable to process them.

My dad visited for my birthday, and I was kind of pathetically happy when he actually showed up. I didn't think he would, but he did. He took me to a movie. And because it was so fresh in my mind, I told him all about Twilight and how much I hate it. (Mom read it. Mom loves it. I'm scared.) We were a little late getting to the movie, so the previews had already started when we walked in. I caught a glimpse of something white and extremely unappealing on the screen, and a horribly mangled pronounciation of "the Volturi," and stopped short.

Me: "UGH!"
Dad: "That's the sequel?"
Me: "Uh-huh."

We both found the trailer quite humorous. Edward is even less attractive with his shirt off. And I am so sick of the Bella look. In every scene in the trailer, and in every still I've seen, and in a huge percentage of the first movie, she's just standing there with her mouth hanging open and her eyes slightly glazed. Which is appropriate for the character.

There was a character who appeared in two, maybe three whole pages of the last few chapters of Breaking Dawn. I'm going to fic about him. Whether or not it's readable remains to be seen. But he's actually an interesting character maybe. And I like him.

Saw 1.0 today. Told her where I was living and she told me to get mace. I told her I have some, and she told me to get bear repellant. Now I'm afraid to go home alone. But I can't leave the kitty to fend for herself. Also 1.0 has taken to calling her husband Heffie, which confused me.

Jimmy and Lisa sent me chicken lo mein by way of Joe the first day I was sick. So sweet, it was like getting chicken noodle soup without the soup. When I came back today, Joe told me he's been worried about me. Sort of mumbled it into the ground, actually. He's adorable. I hope he starts dating a petite stoner girl with a few mild kinks and a passion for music. He should have a good girlfriend.

Dad brought me movies. I got to reorganize the shelves. Now we're out of space.

Home now. Temperature is rising. The eyes can always tell.

Joe is so cute. Today he was asking after my conspicuously absent roommate, and when I explained why she was still gone, instead of assuming (as Jeff and Scott and 1.0 did) that he needed to hunt her down and beat her up for breaking my heart (people sure have made a lot of assumptions about us) he gave me the most adorable little pep talk about how it's okay to be the wingman sometimes, and someday I'll meet the man who's right for me, but it's just not easy because it will take a very special man to handle me.

Wait, handle me? What did he mean by--never mind, I know exactly what he meant by that.

Anyway, I started to explain why I didn't need the pep talk, but he got kind of hung up on the fact that I have had boyfriends in the past, and was even engaged to one of them. (Oh, my portly stallion...)

"Holy crap! I don't even know you, Laura--if that is your name."
"Well, it is now."

Then I had to tell him the Sarah Jane story. And he gave me a blank look.

"You know, from Doctor Who."
"Doctor Do?"
"Doctor...Doctor Who. It's only like the biggest thing ever to come out of England!"
"..."
"Other than the Beatles."

So instead of explaining my sexuality, I spent the rest of the night explaining Doctor Who. It was fun! I've never imitated a Dalek in public before. Or in private, come to think of it. It's just one of those things that's never come up.

Anyway, I don't know why everyone thinks I'm sad about Techie. I mean, yeah, I miss her, but she's happy, so I'm happy. And I'm especially happy that she's with someone I can approve of. I don't have to give him the "I'll break your legs if you ever hurt her" talk. Which is not to say that I wouldn't come at him with a baseball bat if the situation arose, but I don't think it's very likely to happen. Which is good, because I don't own a bat. But that's beside the point. I just...if I'm anywhere near my sisters when they start dating seriously, I'm going to be hell on their boyfriends. I have very high standards. And stuff. Hey look, shiny thing.

So Joe wants to take me out for my birthday, which, considering it falls on Homecoming day, may or may not be a very good idea. Depending on the mood of the town, I might be turning 21 again on Saturday.

So, um. Boys. Yeah. I wrote out a whole post about the movie buff who will henceforth be known as Herbert, but I left my drive at home because I thought the library was going to be closed for fall break. And then it wasn't. And now I'm here.

So, why Herbert, you ask? (Prediction: no one will have asked.) He likes Jeffrey Combs almost as much as I do, and he owns a bloodspattered Miskatonic University lab coat. Among other things.

We've been hanging out and, like...talking and stuff. And connecting. It's weird. And maybe kind of creepy.

And he made me love Tom Waits. Techie's been trying to do that since before we ever even met, and with each successive attempt I hated him more. Herbert sat me down and made me listen to one song, and I was hooked. I went right home and watched the awful Gary Coleman Dracula, and then made plans to go to the record store. Then I remembered that there's no such thing as a record store anymore, so I'll be looking for a CD instead.

(Gary Coleman: inside joke.)

Techie is very good at getting me to approach movies (mainly chick flicks and spectacle musicals) in a way that makes me enjoy them when I would have dismissed them on my own. But she sucks at sharing music.

Then again, I was never in a straitjacket when she tried it.

I don't understand basic human interaction. I'm working on it, but I'm still not there.

Humans suck. Kitties are easier.

Except for my kitty.

Sometimes she's catlike, like when she pounces on my feet or gets bored with cuddling way before I do. But mostly she's not.

A lot of the time she acts like a dog, actually. I've never known a cat who would come almost every time she was called. And when she was little, she would trot along behind me everywhere I went. And she chases her tail. All the time. It's one of her favorite ways to play.

And then other times, she acts like a human being. A pervy one. (Woot! I didn't call her a purrr-vert!--damn.)

Every day when I get up, I pick her up and hold her to my chest to say good morning, and she stretches her head up and touches her nose to mine. It's not a proper morning without my good morning kitty kiss. But the other day, instead of the sweet little touch, she grabbed the sides of my face with her little paws, jerked my head down to her level, and started sloppily biting my mouth.

I'm going to have to be more careful about what kind of human behavior she sees in the future.

She also likes to watch me shower. And she's always trying to get in my pants. She starts at the ankle and crawls right up, although she's too big now to make it past my knee.

And, and, this is the best part! She picked my pocket.

I was lying down reading a book, and Fosse hopped up on my back, which is perfectly normal Fosse behavior. Then I felt her patting at my back pocket--pat pat, pat pat--also normal. She's fascinated by my butt (and Techie's chest; by the way, Ops, the little weirdo likes to sleep curled up in your bra.)

Then suddenly she was running into the other room, with all my tip money in her mouth.

I was so proud of my little criminal mastermind!

Then she got her head stuck in a teacup, and I was less impressed.

She just had to get that last bit of ginger ale. I don't know what it is about ginger ale, but she loves it. If I'm drinking milk or tea or water, she'll sniff around it, maybe try to steal a lick or two if I let my guard down, but if I'm drinking ginger ale she's relentless. And if I absolutely refuse to share, she'll stick a paw in, while staring at me defiantly, just so I can't have any either.

I frickin love this cat.

Great. The heat doesn't work. Not that I really need it yet, but I will soon enough.

Oh, new apartment, you're so full of...character.

I had plans, and the plans fell through. And then something occurred to me: I don't like people. I have never liked people. So why should I need to include anyone else in my plans? I really am solitary by nature, and most of the time I have more fun anyway if I don't have to go along with someone else's idea of a good time.

So with that said, the last weekend in October I'm going to New Orleans. Maybe I can handle the drive on my own and maybe I can't, but I'll never know if I don't try. Of course I won't go wandering Bourbon Street by myself (I'd never make it back to the hotel) but I can do everything else I've been missing, like beignets and chicory for breakfast at Cafe du Monde. And I'm sure I'll meet all kinds of interesting people (and substances) at VoodooFest. And on Halloween night I'll swing by the Saint Louis Cemetery. Anybody want a wish made on Marie Laveau's tomb?

Sooo.

I wandered onto campus this morning to hit the English department's used book sale, and on my way out I stumbled across a friend of mine having a bit of an anxiety attack. (By which I mean acting like me when I'm drunk: clingy and apologetic. Okay, is this really what I'm like? I'm ready to start admitting when I need help now.)

He needed a friend, so I sat with him for a while, and we talked. A lot. Mostly about Batman. I was a bit shocked to find that we were on a pretty equal footing, knowledge-wise. And we have just about the same taste, except that he likes Nicholson a lot more than I do. (Not that I don't like that Joker, I just think he's a little overrated. And next to Mark Hamill he's downright blah. But then who isn't?)

Then he said he was feeling better, so I walked him to his car. Which, as it turned out, was parked in front of my apartment building. (He has a friend living there.) I wanted to put my books away, so I invited him up.

And he was floored by my movie collection!

But to his credit, before he dove headfirst into the shelf, he spent several minutes trying to tame Fosse--who seems to hate him. (And I have no idea why. She loves Joe, and he smells like three chihuahuas.) She never did manage to come up to him, but she got to where she could tolerate being in the same room with him without fluffing up and hissing. Poor skittish kitty. She even let him pet her when I was holding her.

Then came the movie diving.

And...I can't even explain. Every great movie I have that nobody's heard of or wants to watch, he knew! Knew well, and greeted them like old friends. He knew what I meant when I sadly explained that Robot Monster was only in "glorious 2-D." When I hopped from Argento to Goblin, he followed without the slightest hesitation. He did a little dance for the Ed Wood box set. And bounced up and down for the Pam Grier set. And squealed for Blacula (specifically the gay guys!) He knows who directed Q: The Winged Serpent and God Told Me To. He recognized The Crazies and Knightriders. He high-fived me for The Devil's Rain. He did a hilariously accurate Vincent Price for that box set. He high fived me again for Cat People and Curse of the Cat People, and hugged me for The Thing With Two Heads. He took one look at Pete's Dragon and belted out, "Every little piece! Every little piece! We could make a million by slicing him, dicing him! Hoagy, we could sell every little shell!"

He also sang for Shock Treatment. And not for Dancer in the Dark, because it makes him cry. And when he came across Ravenous, he started wailing, "He was licking me! He was LICKING MEEEE!"

So then I had to give him the rest of the Hefner love test.

I asked him about The Ninth Configuration.

He responded with a Robert Loggia impersonation.

I was...flabbergasted.

He went back to fanboying over movies. ("Heavenly Creatures! Cemetery Man!" Ooh, I forgot to find out if he knows the real title.)

And then I looked at him, and he looked at me.

Then he Shatner-handsed my face...

Then it was like, lips and tongues and suction, and me going, "Mmmm??"

And um, yeah. That was unexpected.

So, um...yeah. I've never been kissed for my movies before, but if ever there was an excuse to facesuck me out of the blue without getting politely tossed out of my house, this was it.

I mean, I really can't even convey what this means. Not the kissing part. That's a different matter. I don't know quite what to think about that. But the movies!

Guys, he owns movies I've never seen. And he wants to share them with me.