November 28th, 2004


turkey, turkey, porn, turkey.

On rare occasions the stars in my subconscious align and I have the kind of beautifully cliched fan-fiction dream that I could have written when I was awake. This morning I dreamed that Xander's father was actually his step-father. His parents had divorced when he was very young, and when they split, his real dad had taken his twin brother away to live with him. His dad, as it happens, was in the Mafia. He rose to become a respected capo, and raised his son in the business. So one day dad comes back to Sunnydale for obscure reasons and is knocked off. Xander's brother Alec turns up looking for him, and then stays to hunt the killer. When Alec meets the Scooby gang, they're like...whoaaa, because he is Mister Rico Suave: Jag convertible, sleek expensive suit, dangerous eyes that look strangely shaded, as if they might be kohled. Sort of a Mafia version of Vamp!Xander, but not so pale. And of course he's got, like, a gun and shit. Serious bad-ass, scarily calm and professional. And then there were a few tiny interstitial scenes I can't remember, where he and Spike start to bond. I think there may have been cigarette-smoking and fondling. Then they go out together, Alec and Spike, to try and retrace dad's path. They go to a bar and Alec questions a guy, doesn't like his answers, and takes the shmuck to a back room and ties him to a chair, then rolls up his own sleeves and gets a few tools, preparing to torture the answers out of him. Spike is impressed, and then when he really gets the extent of what's going to happen, goes gimlet-eyed, scenting the chance for blood. It's true love, man.

And then I woke up.

So on Thanksgiving I went and had the Best Turkey Dinner EVER at anaxila's and kjv31's and we watched old X-Files episodes. Had such a great time. Friday and Saturday I perfected the art of doing nothing. I ate turkey sandwiches and pie and made cookies, and then ate them, and caught up on first-season Dead Like Me and watched all of season two in more or less one long couch marathon. I think I cried at some point during every episode. And I am seriously out of clean laundry.

Oh, and for the last three days my running fantasy abruptly switched to the Spike/Lorne channel, all day, every day. It's shadowscast's fault. You just can't mention these things around me. This is the first time I've ever actually played out the idea to full conclusion though. I've decided it makes perfect sense. Lorne is the swishy queen, the soft touch who takes in strays and feeds and comforts them, the kind of guy who wears his big heart on the sleeve of his silk dressing gown. And Spike's the rough trade. Who turns into a pussycat when he's petted, naturally.

I scare me.

random thoughts

~ The best thing about Dawn of the Dead (2004) was Jake Weber, who plays Michael, the ultra-competent hero guy that Ana falls for. (Competent = so fucking hot.) My TV is randomly tuned to Sci-Fi right now and when I walked into the living room I discovered that he was also in The Cell.

~ In another casting coincidence, I saw Robin Dunne for the first time playing Tripp in Dead Like Me this weekend, and after watching all of season 2, turned randomly to Sci-Fi and saw him again in Species III. It's weird how shit like that happens.

~ Eric McCormack, the guy who plays Will in Will & Grace, also did a guest stint in Dead Like Me, playing a very straight and very mean love interest for Daisy. He was pretty fucking amazing.

~ I loved Mason's arc in season two--he just got skankier and more pathetic as time went on, but he also got more endearing, the way he fell so hard for Daisy (and in such a subtle way, under all his clowning, that I felt a kind of awe when I realized how bad he had it) and got so wrought up over her thing with Ray. And his rift with Kiffany in "Always" killed me. Callum Blue is so gorgeous that I was annoyed for a long time at the skeeviness of his character; I wanted him to be different. More Hugh Grantish, and not so much a guy who probably doesn't wash his jeans more than once a month. But God, watching all of S2 in one rush, I really fell for him. Not in a "gosh he's hot, who can I pair him with?" kind of way, but with that admiration you feel when a character is well written and the actor just nails it, when he's so deep in the character's skin that you forget you're watching an actor at all.

~ That reminds me, I really need to do some laundry.

~ The Cell is a fucked-up movie. So is Dawn of the Dead. Also, the remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre is free on cable, and I find I'm not able to rewatch it. It's just too depressing.

~ basingstoke wrote Invisible Man fic! IM fans should read it. Well-done IM fic is rare.

~ If I could write at all right now, I'd probably write that Mafia!Xander story. Or Spike/Lorne. Hmmph. Stupid not-writingness.

~ It's lazy of me not to connect these thoughts with even a pretense of association, but...yeah. I went to IHOP this morning for the first time in a long time and it kind of sucked. Now I have IHOP residue on my tongue. I should go have coffee, I think.

~ No, I should do laundry.

~ No, I should have coffee.

~ Laundry!

~ Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffee!

~ Or maybe I'll go play Text Twist, since some people cruelly exposed me to their terrifyingly addictive pastime.

~ witling wrote more vampy boy adventures and made me achey with the angst. But I know she'll make it all better soon, with band-aids and tender manly sex. Or else. *cracks knuckles like a Mafioso*

I spent 33 minutes writing this post. I so very need a life.