Through The Looking Glass

If I don’t stop looking at pictures of Anthony Stewart Head on last week’s episode of Buffy, I may never accomplish anything.

Damn him for being so gorgeous!

Blogger, blogger, on the wall… Why is my baby sister prettier than me??? Why???

Funnily, K and I have almost the identical haircut now. Hers is a far better color than mine, thanks to Clairol. I know how to fix that.

In other news, Will, Jenn, Geoff and I started a Deadlands campaign yesterday. I am already sad and depressed, less than 24 hours later, because we’re not playing. I think I am starting to understand why so many AD&D geeks are such losers. Poor things – I feel your pain!

Yesterday I went to the Buzz Stop. It’s a hair place. I was hoping, based on the name, that they also sold coffee, but alas, no.

Anyway. I went there because my hair was a disaster, and I got paid.

I was planning on growing it into a Louise Brookes style bob (shorter than I always used to keep it, but longer than it was yesterday), but it really needed something done to it in the meantime.

So my hairdresser’s name was London. Yes, I know. London. He was this oddly straight dude with a strange, hip attitude. (I think. In all honesty, though, I wouldn’t know hip if it smacked me in the face.) I explained the trouble. He looked at my head. A lot. He then uttered the devilish phase, “I wish you would let me give you a pixie cut,” and proceded to describe a sort of updated pixie cut which would involved straightening my hair and kinda spiking it a bit.

I argued, but was weak. I told him that if I hated it he’d get no tip. He cut. He styled.

I look fabulous.

I love Will.

Life is good.

I love my UPS man! A little while ago the doorbell rang. (I live in an apartment. This was the apartment door.) I figured it was the building manager, who was supposed to send an electrician by weeks ago. Will called him earlier.

It wasn’t.

It was the UPS driver, with a package for me! My name wasn’t on the board downstairs, so he’d tracked me down! He was cute too.

Life is good. John sent me movies and candy.

I think I’m going to be ill if I don’t stop laughing hysterically like this.

After posting at the Watcher’s Diary, asking* people to use spoiler tags if they were going to discuss the current season of Buffy, I have received more replies than any other post I have ever made there.

Here are a few examples of the comments from morons who do not quite understand what an “established board member” is:

So, you’re 24 and can’t express yourself without resorting to profanity?!
That’s not something most people would brag about.

About the spoilers, I agree with your sentiment, just not the pathetic way you expressed it.

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You have some serious anger management. I don’t like non tagged spoilers either,
but it’s no need to fly that word around a public forum. I don’t care how old you are. Darling.

The second one got deleted, which is too bad, because it made me laugh. Oh well.

*cussing at them

Goddamn it. I am trying to look at girl-on-girl-on-girl softcore porn, and while the smoochies are shown in the thumbnails, everything good is cut from the full-sized photos.

Now I am sad.

ZOMBIES!!!

I wrote a movie today.

I was just in the bath for an hour and a half. I feel remarkable.

I read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, exfoliated, shaved, washed, and relaxed. Suddenly, nothing seems too much to handle. (Except for the jeans I tried to squeeze myself into afterwards. I got them on, but may have to cut myself out of them…)

She said – he said

I want nice things, a nice home. He wants more movies.

I want to get married and have a family. He wants to have a career.

I worry about the future. He worries about now.

I save instruction manuals. He saves…actually, I cannot think of anything important he saves.

I like fleshy geek girls. He likes plastic girls.

I want to go out. He wants to stay in.

Maybe we aren’t meant to be together.