You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: Hello there. I am Lionardo DiCaprio. I would like to paint you. :0 I FIND YOU BEAUTIFUL
You: I'm afraid I'm a bit hesitant to persue such things as my lover recently drowned.
Stranger: OH GOODNESS
Stranger: I can cure your broken heart.
Stranger: I find that you've struck my soul with the wiffle bat of amazement.
You: And you have strangled my heart like a spring chicken with the meaty fists of destiny.
Stranger: Oh my... You are truely the most signifigant , lovely woman I have ever met.
Stranger: Please tell me that you'll love me forever. :
Stranger: DON'T LET GO JACK. DON'T LET GO.
You: All I ever wanted was a man who could teach me how to love. And spit distances.
You: And possibly jig.
Stranger: Good god. You're perfect.
You: Oh, I know.
Stranger: I feel as if my heart is being kicked in the face.
You: With golf cleats, my darling!

Dad emailed me my itinerary for the trip to Montana, but I can't print the GDMF-ing thing because my printer is retarded. Bah.

The time has come for dad's semi-annual business trip to Montana, and I'm coming along to take advantage of the free skiing.

:D

For the past couple of days I've had a nasty-looking lesion on my chest, but it is clearing up after being clobbered with neosporin. This morning, however, I was in the shower and noticed two smaller rash-looking spots on my calf, and another on my thumb.

Panic ensued.

Imagining everything from cancer to leprosy (I can be a bit of a reactionary hypochondriac) I took to the internet and managed to convince myself that I had scabies.

More panic.

I rushed to my collection of home remedies, then sprayed every inch of my home with cedar oil, rubbed apple vinegar and garlic on my rashes, then hightailed it to Sue's to wash my sheets and blankets and all of the clothes I have so such as glanced at in the past week. Upon inspection of my scabby therunckles, Sue and Tony insisted that it was ringworm.

Panic abated, to be replaced with irritation as I was convinced that I had got ringworm from that damned three-legged cat that I had grabbed and groped at out of the charity of my heart.

To the internet I went again, and eventually reached the discovery that I do not have ringworm at all, but pityriasis rosea. It is a mysterious affliction that only affects us fresh-faced youthful types. A 'herald' sore will appear on the chest or back and resemble ringworm, but it will then be followed by more sores on other areas of the body that look nothing like ringworm and are mildly itchy. There is no known cause or treatment of it, and the only thing to do is wait for it to go away on its own.

Am very relieved, but have learned a valuable lesson: Do not fondle strange animals, no matter how adorable and in need of rescue they may appear.

P.S-On the downside, my house still reeks of cedar. I feel like I'm living in a giant hamster cage.

P.P.S.-I am so pleased that I've finally had opportunity to use the word 'therunckles'. I must try to do so more often.

*can't stop dancing to this song*

What a ridiculous question. The world could do well without self-appointed Moral Gaurdians letting their own sanctimonious sense of self-importance make them think that they have the right to decide what anyone should or should not be allowed to read. Teenagers are mostly idiots anyway, it wouldn't kill them to read something besides advertisemets even if it is full of foul language and sexual depravity.

On the other hand, most children find a concept to be infintely more interesting once it has been forbidden by well-meaning if narrow-minded adults, so book bans have a decided countereffect. One might as well ban reading altogether just to manipulate adolescents into actually expanding their minds in an attempt to prove what rebels they are.

All of the sudden I notice that I've dropped a lot of weight. 17 pounds, according to Sue's bathroom scale. I can fit a whole other ass in my jeans, I've gone down three belt holes, and today when I was walking to the post office I noticed that it was too quiet. My thighs don't rub together anymore. I was so surprised I bent over to look, and there was definite daylight showing between my legs. I've always been able to touch any part of my body and feel a bone underneath (I have to press harder in some places than others, whatev) but now many of my bones are visible. All of the sudden I have a clavicle.

I'm sure other women would be overjoyed, because as we all know one's worth as a human being is inversely proportional to their weight *eyeroll* but I'm just annoyed that I have to spend money on new pants.

Maybe it's that I'm walking more and snacking less.

Whatever.

The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here. How do your reading habits stack up?

Instructions:
Copy and paste this on your LJ. Look at the list and put an 'X' after those you have read.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen X
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien X
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee X
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte X
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman X
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens X

Total: 8

11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare X
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien X
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot

Total: 3

21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell X
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams X
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

Total: 3

31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis X
34 Emma - Jane Austen X
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen X
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hossein
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden X
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne X

Total: 6

41 Animal Farm - George Orwell X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery X
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan X

Total: 5

51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen X
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafo
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens X
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Total: 2

61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov X
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold X
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding X
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville X

Total: 5

71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens X
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker X
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett X
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Inferno – Dante X
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray

Total: 4

80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker X
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle X
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton

Total: 3

91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad X
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams X
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas X
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare X
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo X

Total: 6

Net Total: 44/100

Ooh, that's kind of pitiful.

(I really like this new icon, can you tell?)

I have the SciFi channel now.

w00t.

No writing today. Shut up. Last night I did about 2,000 words and finished the penultimate chapter of 'Daggerwing Court' and put down two paragraphs of the final chapter, and all of the sudden I've smacked into a wall. It is unimaginably frustrating since I'm so close to being finished with this thing that has been the primary focus of my work since July. Rrrrrr.

The weather was lovely today, all dark and grey and ominous. Late in the afternoon the entire sky looked black with just a haze of blue/grey around the horizon. Absolutely gorgeous. Right now it seems the gods are indecisive between giving us rain or proper snow and instead it's raining slush. I pray for more snow that I might frolic around in all of fluffy glittering wonderment before I've lived here long enough to be disenchanted with it and have only the cold to complain about.

Went grocery shopping today and indulged in one of my favorite pastimes: pawing through the $5 DVD bin at WalMart like a half-mad racoon. I ended up with Silent Hill, The Secret of NIMH, and *cringe**squirm* Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle.

Okay, I admit to having something of a girl-crush on Drew Barrymore, along with my crush-crush on Crispin Glover. So, yeah, watching them kiss is crazy awesome.



*wistful sigh*

So, last night I had a naughty dream about Mr. Tumnus.

...Yeah.

You know how in movies when somebody has a nightmare it makes them catapult out of bed, and they sit up really fast as they wake up? Yeah, I did that this morning. Greebo turned, one eye open and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and gave a disapproving sneeze in my general direction.

"What the hell was that?" I wailed.

Greebo did not know what the hell that was, and went back to sleep.

It is probably because of all my sniggering last night. Mr. Tumnus, that insidious little man-beast, surely crept into my subconscious to punish me for making assumptions on his charecter and joking about him being a pedofaun. In which case I hereby apologize. Get out of my dreams and also out of my car, goatboy.

So there.

In other news, I am running rather low on gas money...as well as gas, so am endeavoring to not drive for a while. Thing is, I'm almost out of rat food. I'll just have to walk to Safeway tomorrow and pray that they have the right kind.

Talked to mum today. She lamented that I took Greebo away because he is the best cuddler, and I gave her a Tarot reading.

And now...fish sticks.

I had a somewhat alarming expirience today.

backstory: Ever since I moved I've had a sort of recurring...I don't want to say 'vision', more like an idea or mental image, of finding a kitten with an injured hind leg. At random it'd just pop into my head, I'd acknowlege it, maybe ponder on it for a while, then just as soon forget all about it.

So today I was getting in the car to go to the post office. I put my keys in the ignition, looked up, and what ever do you think I should spy through the windshield?

Oh yes.

There was a small, black kitten, one of the feral cats I've seen lurking around the alley before. Its right hind leg was almost completely severed, just hanging on by a strip of dry skin, dragging along in the dirt as it walked.

I, of course, was freaked right the shit out. I sat there and stared at it for a few seconds. Then my brain turned itself back on and I got out of the car and began to move towards it, wriggling my fingers and making those goofy noises you're suppose to make.
Unsurprisingly, the cat bolted, and I ran after it through a gap in the fence into the abandoned lot behind Sue and Tony's restaraunt. The cat hid under a pile of old lumber, and despite my well-intentioned attempts to coax it out, remained. Then I decided I'd have to be a bit more forceful, and started taking apart the lumber pile. While I was otherwise distracted the cat ran off again and I ran after it, again, back out into the alley. It ran hell for leather down the alley and disappeared between the back of my house and the methodist church next door.

I was peering after it when Ian drove up the alley and parked behind The Maiden and The Crone. He got out and meandered over to ask what I was up to. I told him about the injured cat and how I had been trying to catch it so I could take it to a vet but it had gotten away from me. He was amused that I had been outrun by a little baby kitty with a missing leg, then informed me in a more serious tone that I must be one of those unfortunate people who feels compassion for other creatures, and that I had his pity. I, in turn, informed him that he was going to go to the special hell with the child molesters and people who talk at the theatre. Then we went to Mickey D's for some food and came back to hang out at the shop.

I still don't quite know what to make of this expirience. If I was having bloody premonitions about the cat then it was probably important, yet I failed to catch it. Hrmmm.

I just hope the poor thing is alright, or about to die quickly and painlessly. Go play on roads, kitty.

P.S.-I finished the short story, and I decided to just go ahead and call it 'Up The Hill' for lack of anything better.

Good days have been had. By me.

Last night Ian picked me up and we went to see Zombieland. We chatted and joked the whole ride into Farmington. I am so freaking glad to be friends with this guy, he really seems to get me and he's funny and weird and all that stuff. At one point in the conversation:

Ian: I really like hanging out with you; normally when somebody else makes me laugh it's at their expense.
Me: Thanks, I like hanging out with you too. Not only do you understand words with more than two syllables, you even understand what the word 'syllable' means.

When we got to the theatre he held the first door open for me, and in retaliation I held open the next door for him. From then on whenever we saw a door in the distance, we'd race to hold it open. He beat me most of the time because of my knee, plus I was weighed down by my purse. About the third time he beat me I informed him that I'd get him back; the next time we came upon a puddle I would lay my jacket over it for him, and there was nothing he could do to stop me. I did get the last door because he had to stop at the restroom, so ha ha.

The movie was great, and we sat in the back row making snarky comments the whole time. On the ride home, more chatting and joking. I was surprised how easily I fit right back into my 'guy friend' groove, we were totally at ease together and were able to tell really awful sex jokes and whatnot without it being weird. I've missed that.

I'd better be off, tonight Sue and Tony are coming over and I'm making vegetable dumplings. I have to clean and get started on the food.

Also, I have made this. Because I am awesome.

</div>

I spent most of yesterday at The Maiden and The Crone, helping Eddie and Tracy with things. Cleaning, rearranging the wall displays, wrangling mannequins, unpacking new merch, stuff like that. They need extra help for the holidays but can't affoard to hire anyone, which sucks majorly because I would love working there, but I don't really have anything better to do with my days so I offered to help out for free. I drooled over the new capes and cloaks, Windex-ed crystal balls, and got mouthed off to by a delivery guy. It was the most fun I've had in a month.

Wrote 908 words last night, nearing The End of a short story that is not officially titled yet but has the working title 'Up the Hill'. It is a working title because it blows, but what can you do. I am determined to reach The End tonight.

Now I have to go finish a project, walk Greebo, do dishes, and call home. Mum is demanding a Tarot reading *eyeroll*

P.S.- I'm waiting to hear back about a job from Hot Topic, of all places. Whatever, money is money, and I wouldn't have to cut my moehawk to work there.

Hmmm. A few months ago my automatic answer to such a question would be "get the hell out of Florida" but now I can't think of anything I want to change about my life.

Holy shit, am I happy?!

So this morning at sixe Susan called and woke me up. I was prepared to give her a verbal lashing she would not soon forget, when she told me to look out the window.



IT'S SNOOOOOOOOOOOOWIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! *glee*

I'm-a go put on my cute winter clothes and go frolic.

P.S.- Adequate description of my feelings at the moment.

*is in love with this question*

I am certainly no stranger to imaginary boyfriends, and there are just so many fictional characters I adore, so I shall just answer based on my preference of the moment. Prince Nuada from Hellboy II: The Golden Army is simply lovely, but I don't think I would 'date' him in the conventional sense of the word. Mainly because he is a meglomaniacal, misanthropic extremist who would leap for joy to see the bloody decimation of all humanity, but also because we would have much better things to do than go to movies or restaraunts. Our activities would include verbal and physical sparring, visits to the troll market,  going on perilous quests to recover ancient and powerful artifacts, and occasionally doubling up with Abe and Nuala for some Pictionary and fondue. And whenever he got sassy about me being a human, I would let him know who was boss with a kiss laced with ground-up iron supplement pills.

Also, Ravus of Valiant by Holly Black. I love the idea of dating a troll and hanging out with him under his bridge. I don't think I would have much patience for his occasional emotional outbursts, though.

Barring that, Morpheus of the Sandman comics. Or Oberon.

Hrmm. I seem to be in a fantasy mood today.

Allow me to paint you a picture.

It is evening, and I am safe and comfy in my home. I am in a long-sleeved black blouse with bell sleeves and silver ivy embroidered around the neckline, a pair of black panties, and fluffy green knitted slippers. I have not yet washed off my hair gel or makeup, so my mohawk stands proudly erect and my eyes remain blackly lined. Greebo and I are enjoying lying on the new rug--black with a lattice of gold leaves--and watching Kill Bill Vol. 1. A delicious supper of tortellini is on the stove, to be followed by a Halloween cupcake with black frosting and sparkly skulls. I am reading a printout of the novelization of Labyrinth, the heater is on full blast, and the rats are playfighting in their newly cleaned cage.

Life, my dears, is glorious.