June 21st, 2003

elijah

sisabet is all things god

I may have melted.

::ANNA EMITS PRIMAL SHRIEKS OF JOY::

followed by many tiny whimpers

[Oh, um...serious spoilers for end of S1 QAF]

::rewatches on an infinite loop::

BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP BRIAN AND JUSTIN OTP

I have only just *begun* to embarrass myself over this show, thank you.


elijah

ow.

Having just cut myself loose from work, I have that vague dissatisfied feeling...of needing to work more. There's a point of overwork that comes, when nothing but more work feels right.

On the other hand, that's clearly insane and my hands and wrists and fingers and arms and neck and shoulders and back--basically everything below the crown of my head--are all incredibly sore, so it's time to go offline. Until Monday. At least when it comes to work.

Stupid body.

Heading into the office on the bus this morning, the seats smelled as if large sweaty men had sat naked on them.

On the upside, there was coffee and a scone, and Krispy Kreme donuts, and sisabet's QAF vid, with the good kind of naked sweaty men. When I'd blissed out and couldn't actually watch the vid anymore--having to work and stuff--I played it and listened to the music. Oh, 15-20 times. Then I watched it a few more times coming home on the bus. As one might appropriately say, I'm totally gay for it. Men, dancing, whirling--it might as well be ice cream twisting out in a twirly swirl from one of those machines. I'll just be rubbing it all over my body now. You probably want to avert your eyes.

I'm kind of derailed now. I'm finding it hard to focus on anything else. Everytime I try, my mind is distracted by thoughts of men dancing together, and cuddling, and kissing, and...it's time for me to go lie down, I think. Somewhere other than here, somewhere other than in public where I'm likely to keep dorkifying myself further and further.


elijah

"There is no spoon."

Just saw Dog Soldiers on SciFi. Fun, bloody little werewolf movie, intense even in 10-minute increments broken by commercials for cars and allergy medicine. Lots of offhand homages too, I thought--Aliens, The Matrix, Silverado.

::crickets chirping::

Yes, okay, fine, I probably just imagined most of that.

Funny how listening to British guys bitch is far more charming than listening to Americans piss and moan. All the colorful slang and accents kept reminding me of Spike.

Spoon! Spoon was one of those great sideline characters. I thought for sure I must have seen his actor (Darren Morfitt) before in something, but IMDb convinced me otherwise. Then I realized what it was: he's the eerie love child of Andrew McCarthy and a young Peter Riegert.

I seriously thought about staying on the couch for Cyborg 2, starring a baby Angelina Jolie, but decided it looked like a yawn. Jury is still out on whether I drag my limp carcass one block to Starbucks to drink latte and reread noir.

On the way to the bedroom I noticed my last rental tapes sitting on the floor. I think they are, like, ten days overdue.

Commercials suck, on the whole. Individually they can be fascinating, and I do zone out and watch most of them, which worries me--subliminal advertising is not outside the realm of suspicion. But commercials with kittens in them make me meep sadly. The only time I think seriously even for a moment about giving up my apartment is for the chance to move somewhere that would let me have a tiny little muffiny handful of kitten. But I knock on wood because it's a great apartment, with the best landlords in the universe, no exaggeration--they leave cookies outside my door! they think of me like a daughter! someone else's daughter! but even so!--and so I must stiffen my wobbly lower lip and get over that.

You can always tell when I'm looking for any excuse to post in LJ.