Gawd, I could really use a doughnut right now.
"Here, have a doughnut."
"Why, thankyou! Don't mind if I do."
"Here, have two!"
"Oh, too kind."
Okay. Gawd, I could really use Colin Farrell right now.
Sigh. Okay, just checking.
Mind you, I'm jolly pleased about the doughnut, more delighted than is really warranted I suppose, but I so needed a doughnut, like really, really, and it was all cold and wet outside, which prohibited doughnut getting.
Mmmm, sugary goodness.
So, you've been wondering where I've been? Well, Tuesday was meant to be my RDO but the poo hit the appliance so I had Wednesday off instead.
Now Wednesday was planned to involve me down on my hands and knees cleaning the bathroom, not me down on my hands and knees making a complete mess of the bathroom, again. Sigh. And how come, in my life, me being down on my hands and knees never, ever involves anything fun. Pout.
I did get some hall decking done on Tuesday night, and Bro helped marvellously. Yeah, okay, so I bribed him with chocolate but men, like dogs, often respond well to positive reinforcement - smirk.
Alas Wednesday involved a severe cramping of my style, far more than I'd imagined or accomodated for so poor little me spent most of the time sobbing into my hot water bottle, alas. I did get all those Stargate tapes and cds I'd been promising to various folks done, so it wasn't like the day was entirely wasted.
Made a feeble attempt to hang a few baubles on the tree during Buffy and a cracker of a thunderstorm. Apparently parts of Melbourne are two metres under water. Golly. This is what happens in this country: your entire annual rainfall in under an hour. None of this gentle rain business here.
Thursday and I managed, somehow, to crawl out of bed, and I'm so glad I did. There was another Macromedia wank on and I love an excuse to get out of class, I mean work, and I had breakfast at the Starbucks down by Darling Harbour on a bright sunny morning with a twinkly tinsely tree and it was all lovely and perfect. Even the staff were super nice.
Ran into a few friends at the wankfest, which wasn't that boring, actually, wonders. Then I wandered about the museum a bit - I was actually looking for a loo and following the signs in vain until I ran into a guard who ran me out onto the street for not having a ticket. Hmph. I really was looking for a loo, I'd meant to get a ticket second, such were my immediate priorities and I was already inside anyway and after being manhandled like hell was I paying to get back in.
So I toddled off, did a bit of Xmas shopping, stocking fillers only, alas (though I did find the Brit chocky shop), and then treated myself to a frap as it'd had got awful hot and Sam the overly perky Starbucks barrista had invited me back for lunch. Sam remembered my name and everything. Crikey. Don't have the peppermint frap though. Somebody had obviously had a coffee immediately after brushing their teeth and thought, yeah, a toothpaste frap, that's the ticket, whereas I recoil in horror from the experience.
So I'm sitting there with my toothpaste frap (eeew) and suddenly the sun winks out. I look up and boiling over the top of the convention centre are Speilberg style storm clouds. Yikes. I bolt up the hill, ripping my ankle at least six times on the process but manage to throw myself on the bus, just in time.
We drove through the most amazing storm front I've ever seen, an actual line of black clouds cresting like a wave in the sky and thunder and lightning and a white wall of hail that just swept towards us as we were stopped in traffic, the drivers over the hill no doubt panicking. Very cool. The rain was coming down in absolute sheets and as we drove down into the valley again the bus threw up an enormous bow wave as the road was completely flooded, like a good half a metre flooded.
Then we came back out on top of the hill again and it was almost sunny, then back into the valleys and hills and another storm front and this was the one that soaked me to the skin as I limped home (yes I had an umbrella but I'm rather adverse to waving metal sticks at the sky during violent thunderstorms, if it's all the same to you).
Got home dripping in time to see Graduation Day on Buffy (the last classic Buffy, alas). After that there was sod all else on, and no, the Zarbi on Who don't count, yikes, so there was more Gate watching and Gate exchanging. My friend is on a Daniel kick and I don't really mind feeding her addiction, not at all.
There is a huge Streets of San Francisco sized hole in my life. Sigh. Oh yes, my box of The Saint arrived, so I know how my weekend will be spent if it absolutely buckets down like it is right now. I'm meant to be seeing the Church but I ain't that devoted. Sorry boys, but being cold, wet, miserable, overtired and crampy just ain't my idea of a good time. I mean, it's raining so hard I can only see for a couple of blocks or so from my prized window up here. And I've got to go out in it at lunch. Fabulous.
Great moments in whoops, and there's been a few this week. The first occured while watching ancient Saint episodes and realising huge swathes of which gleefully appear in my as yet and still unfinished Alan & Billy story. Next up is Reilly and an entire series of scenes that showed up verbatim in my very first Angel/Wes fic. Until Wednesday night I had no idea that I'd lifted them from Reilly. It really is a most accidental borrowing. I guess I cast about for ideas and old, forgotten tv shows inhabiting the shadows of my subconscious pop up to fill the bill. Never mind, I've ripped off Reilly quite consciously in the Alan & Billy fic I did finish.
Meanwhile I'm begnning to suspect my friend of a foul and evil plot: by making me sit through hours and hours of choice Jack & Daniel as I beef up her collection I find I have the definite start of a story in my head, at least a good ten pages or so (alas none of which as yet committed to paper or pixels).
Poor Alan & Billy, she's got me thinking of Jack & Daniel again. I suspect she maliciously doesn't care, in fact, I know so. I'm pretty sure this idea has been done to death before, are there are such obvious parallels between Daniel's return in Children of the Gods and his return in Fallen. It's something I want to play with and it's working title is Many Happy Returns. Damn her and her fiendish plot, she's got me writing Jack & Daniel again. Poor Alan & Billy and their forever missing dinosaur.
Uh oh. First Xmas lunch of the season. Two glasses of wine, two mersyndols and I've hit the very happy place. Only I'm at work. I think I shall excuse myself as soon as the early bell goes. Wobble. Wheeze.