August 18th, 2003


Oh. Okay.

My mind likes to torture both me (by making me do work) and Eric Knox (by making him a bloody Catholic).

So I wrote another Charlie's Angels slashfic that has nothing to do with anything. It's called Mr. Moriarty.

Don't ask. Just... I don't know. Love our animal-like Thin Man who writes verses from the Bible in Latin and gives them to an Eric Knox as confused as he is obsessed.

*whines and slaps her internet for misbehaving and misses Nightspore and curses work and school and stress and immune system*
  • Current Music
    Moses Hogan Chorale - My Soul's Been Anchored In the Lord

Can I just get a little something off my chest?

*stares down* No, not these... something else. And don't be mad, but feel free to debate me.

I don't think there is a word for how much I dislike Dylan/The Thin Man. Or D/A, as it seems to be getting called these days. *gags* And, before I get too far into my bitching, let me just say that I hate the name 'Anthony' for the Thin Man... mostly because Saint Anthony wasn't specifically a "healer of the mute." He was a healer. Period. A doctor. The real patron saint of the mute is Saint Drogo, who is also a patron saint of hermits, and lived in a cave for some forty-odd years. But that's not an attractive name to give to a potential love interest, is it? I think I'm just spoiled because of all the good, meaningful names that seem to be sprouting from the Nightspore-DrWorm obsessive brainmobile. The Loner, Del Layne, Gabriel, Veshengo, Moriarty, Lazarovitch Vatrashi... they're all so much more interesting... and meaningful. *stabs hack CA writers*

Anyway, Dylan/The Thin Man. Hate. It's so... I dunno... a stroke to Drew Barrymore's ego. Like, in the first one... she bags Eric Knox. Then it turns out she's had Seamus, as well... then the Thin Man pops out of nowhere and it's all smoochy-smoochy. Whereas Natalie and Alex remain fairly stable in their boyfriends, Dylan bops all over the place.

All right, so it's true... I'm not a Drew Barrymore fan. At all. She bugs me and I don't know why. But... arrgh, that kiss was so unromantic (and it ends with him being stabbed, for chrissake) and so weird... how people have taken that moment and been able to make these cozy, little domestic scenes for the two of them is just beyond me. (Would it be tasteless of me to want to write some really nastily abusive Dylan/TM fic? Or has it been done?)

Then again, I'm the one addicted to Eric Knox/The Thin Man based on an assumed professional relationship and about five minutes of screen time where they were in the same room... the only thing Knox says to him is "Come on, let's go" or something similar. :D Maybe I don't have any room to talk, but I do anyway.

Stupid noncanon OTPs. Stupid hetsex. I'd like to see some Natalie/Madison too. Where's all the promised lesbian porn?
  • Current Music

Oh. Shit.

Today has been a spectacularly weird day.

Went to the doctor and had blood drawn as I was told that I have to get an X-Ray of my chest and sinuses, seeing as my cough has not yet gone the way of the dodo, or the Tibetan monk. So, bright and early tomorrow morning, I get to skip back down to Tallmadge and get pumped full of radioactive SHIT. Motherfuckers. I'd rather not have a persistant rattling cough for the rest of my life, as my grandfather and father both do. I'd also rather not have a tumor or something (you laugh, but then I think of Lauren and her seemingly innocent little lump that turned out to be Hodgekin's Disease; it does happen).

So there was that. Then I get to work and find out that 6F is beginning to cut back their hours... park closes at six, not ten. So I was a) an hour late to my shift and b)still going to get off at approximately six o'clock. But I was also working with Mr. Joe "I Draw Way, Way Better Than You" Bluhm. Meeehhhhh.

Also ,I think Beau hates me. Shit, even Joe's caricature of me isn't so... hmm. Maybe he was being nice for once. But Mike and Beau are seriously nasty. Like... I get jenked beyond jenked and it fucking sucks. Even if he did stick a squirrel on there. What is it with taking away my eyes, you dorks!?

Upshot being, Joe drew me a Crispin which I want to hang on my wall and make love to, but not necessarily in that order. See? Being a pest does pay off.

There was more, but I no longer care.
  • Current Music
    Ben Folds Five - Evaporated