April 1st, 2003


High Tide

People's April Fool's pranks are amusing me. Creative trollops. Also, I came across a Salon review of Boat Trip this morning, which though written on 3/21, carries forth the spirit of foolery magnificently, confirming all my fears about that movie.

I was going to do a long, earnest entry about the coincidence of anniesj doing a Fool's post on Buffy/Angel when just! last! night! I got for the first time ever a perverse B/A story bunny from rewatching their last fight scene in "Sanctuary." I would have been very convincing and hoodwinked you all--mwah ha ha ha--but I'm too lazy to go to such lengths.

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My co-worker is playing a lovely, mellow song on the guitar. That's right, Z. Relax me for my performance review meeting in...oh dear. Half an hour. Having that scheduled on April Fool's Day could be dangerous. "Anna, you did beautifully this year, and we're giving you a ten percent raise! ...HA HA! Just kidding! You're really fired!"

And now I just got handed the paperwork to read over for my review. Gah. Stomach cramps. But it looks pretty good at a glance.

In other news, I had a long, elaborate, and very smokin' menage a trois story going on in my head last night, where, er, Spikewasagirlmovingalongnow, and it's odd now that I think about it in the clear light of day. Layers of slash in het. You make a male character a female, and if you do it right--if your she stays by and large a cranky, tomboyish he in spirit and personality--then it still feels deeply hot in the slashy way, rather than hot in a het way, despite the incredibly explicit hetness of the "turned" body and the acts.

Eroticism is a strange, shifty, and subjective beast.

I so don't want to work. I don't want to do much of anything. I want to go back to bed and sleep and think sexy thoughts. I'm so febrile and quiver-prone lately it's almost starting to become alarming. Don't they say women hit their sexual peak in their thirties? Christ, the weather up here is tropical.


Well, my performance review is over and many nice things were said--so nice, in fact, that my face aches from my painfully fixed smile. Like a lot of women, I have a hard time receiving praise and feel like a sham artist. Of course, I'm also a slacker by nature, and that contributes to my discomfort.
Manager: "The next area for improvement is self-confidence."
Me: "Uh...is that a core competency?"
Manager: "Well, no, but I added some other stuff in. [blah blah blah praisecakes] ...and your co-workers think you're great, so you should bask!"
Me, (with fixed smile of agitation): "Action item: bask! Ha ha ha ha!"
Today's most brilliant thing ever: The Valorous Vampire, by Gwyneth Rhys. Go. Read. Now. I make a mental note to myself to send feedback later.

And now I desperately need to shove a muffin at my face and down it with coffee.