silveryscrape

No shame, no regrets

2018-05-05T17:11:36Z

silveryscrape @ 2018-01-07T11:41:00

2018-01-07T18:00:19Z

Justin ducks his head and squints through the windshield, but tall weeds at the side of the road hide the place from sight. He can't tell if any cars are parked in the clearing out front until he bumps along the muddy ruts another couple hundred yards.

Nothing. Nobody.

It only takes a minute to stow his backpack and guitar case in one of the little bedrooms and throw on some shorts and a t-shirt, and soon Justin's heading for the little creek down the hill, wet grass slapping at his legs and sticking to his skin. The ratty hammock is still there, amazingly, colors faded from years of weather, but the hooks and eyes still seem sturdy and it's well-anchored in the gnarly bark of the oak trees beside the water. The rope's only a bit damp from the morning downpour. Justin throws himself into the center of the netting the way JC showed him years ago, front flip into a full-on sprawl, and lets himself go limp and closes his eyes.

In the afternoon he climbs the low sandstone ledges along the creek for hours and wades through the water, silt-covered rocks shifting under his weight, but eventually he has to go back.

It's okay. Another rental's parked out front, and a tailored topcoat is draped neatly over the back of the couch. The house feels different. JC's nowhere to be seen, and Justin can't hear a sound, but he stands there for a long time anyway, listening.

***

There's more. It was supposed to be this angsty piece about JC getting all super sleek and reserved in an effort to tighten up his image, but then I remembered that's Justin, and no, changing the names around didn't work either, somehow.

So no, what I'm saying is, I really don't believe this whole Man of the Woods shtick. But it's Justin, so I'll listen to the record, even as I'm mocking him endlessly, although pretty much only in my own mind these days.

silveryscrape @ 2018-01-03T17:37:00

2018-01-03T23:49:36Z

One time on the bus, JC had fallen asleep slumped against the window with his face pressed to the glass. Chris had been just about to jab a finger in his side to see him jump, when Justin grabbed his arm. “No, hang on, watch,” he said, and -- they had. Fucking just sat there, watching the light slide across JC’s face, and some time later when the bus slowed down to exit and JC jerked awake, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Justin had smiled at Chris like Chris had given him the best gift.

It's been 8 years since I wrote anything in this fandom, and I miss it.

Well - hi. How long has it - no, that can't be right.

2018-01-03T00:01:05Z

Giddy Up is their best song. Fight me.

silveryscrape @ 2012-05-13T11:56:00

2012-05-13T16:56:05Z

The Death and Resurrection of the English Language, pts 1 & 2

http://wordstrings.livejournal.com/1626.html

wow, I actually commented on a story. huge.

in other news, I'm still rolling the beastie boys, love you mca always & forever, and it strikes me that their big fat beats are just like the aftermath of a really first rate orgasm, on and on and on, only they never stop. mmmmm. and obviously that's not for my facebook family, ahahahaaaa.

lj, I have missed you.

silveryscrape @ 2011-08-13T13:08:00

2011-08-13T18:08:47Z

Going to be in SF Oct 14 - 17. Anybody want to meet up? Say yes!

silveryscrape @ 2011-06-16T15:55:00

2011-06-16T20:55:24Z

oh, she writes my favorite iterations of Eames. and... wow, I had to look up how to format a link?? that ain't right.

in other news, I'm getting versed enough in BBC Sherlock writing to recognize my pet peeve iterations there: please, he's not autistic. nor is he Spock, a robot, or PeeWee Fucking Herman. do better.

he's, hmm, I think... a strongly feeling person who cares very deeply what others think of him. it's partly what drives him to be the best. he's also a good old fashioned classicist who appreciates a well-turned murder as a work of art in the modernist sense (dr lector conducting the disection of that poor security guard in the cage in the library), which is why he's half... I almost wrote in love with moriarty, but really it's the other way around, I suppose. and, something something heisenberg, schrodinger with the little dot thingies, beautiful chaos, john watson & his ridiculous blog... ugh.

do you know I've watched those 3 episodes like 5 times each in the last week. poor downstairs neighbors. I can't decide if benedict cumberbatch is beautiful or ugly, which makes him fascinating. I can't take my eyes off him. but really it's martin freeman who's the rock of the series. an amazing actor. I can't wait for the fall, and the new series, and also the hobbit.

...all this brought on by stupid jc chasez and his stupid bad singing with matt morrison and his stupid tight pants.

also, I need to start working again, clearly

silveryscrape @ 2011-05-21T13:54:00

2011-05-21T18:54:15Z

so, I don't know, I think I'm ramping up to writing again, but I'm not sure I know those guys anymore... came close to watching making the tour the other day, but then I got distracted by dollhouse, which is just so shiny. and by reviewing evidence from my latest ghost hunt, which is just. so. boring.

anyway, doing that thing a lot lately where you read your old stuff & simultaneously heart it and also cringe... I found this little snippet which made me so! happy! I had plans for this cracked out thing where the guys drive their new bodyguard crazy, as you know had to happen regularly - in this case by making him complicit in planning a party on some beach somewhere, where they were going to roast a whole pig or cow or something by means of converting a papasan chair into a laser using some sheet metal and a plasma cutting torch... omg, I had so much fun planning it, and the first section still makes me cackle like a 10 yr old. poor kevin-the-bodyguard.

[entitled "trickyfish wtf," I no longer recall why. a cry for help, no doubt]

His buds had slapped him on the back and wanted to shake his hand, and his mother had been impressed, proudly gossiping to her friends until he begged her to stop, but Kevin was beginning to wonder. Situation came through his snazzy new headset, what’s the hold up, and Lonnie’s voice was bland as ever, but that was worse, that was just about it.

“Code, I have a code blue,” he fumbled, and he could hear his voice was shaking, and cringed. “Uh -- I mean, I need, I could use some help.” The dark-haired short one whose name he hadn’t learned yet was watching him with interest. He turned away, cupping a hand over his ear. “Lonnie, I can’t get Justin to --”

Ears, the headset snapped, unsecure channel. Report. Is this a medical emergency?

“What? No!” The short one was beginning to grin. He lowered his voice again. “No, no emergency! I, uh. J -- Chicken Little, he, uh. He won’t --”

We’re moving in ten minutes, Newbie One. Assemble the team, the headset said, and went dead.

Assemble the team. Assemble the fucking team, and his handle was Newbie One, and Justin had told him very politely but very firmly no when he’d given him the wakeup call. The short one had a look of unholy glee on his face and was whispering to the blond one, Lance, and Lance was smiling and watching everything like this was the most awesome comedy routine ever.

Well, he was right. It certainly wasn’t a fucking job.

Kevin lowered his hand and squared his shoulders and turned to face them. “Ten minutes,” he said, trying for calm and authoritative, wondering if he sounded at all like Lonnie and Mike, even a little bit.

Lance nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, want me to go get Justin and JC? I think they’re still at breakfast.”

“Oh, thank you,” Kevin said sincerely, and fuck, there went his cool, right there. But -- “Thanks, Lance. And, uh --”

“Chris,” the short one said, the smile dropping off his face.

“Sorry.”

“No problem, Newbal Harshaw.” The smile was back, with an edge. “Point of advice?”

He made himself nod.

“You’ll do a lot better with Lonnie if you don’t tell him Justin stopped breathing. Get me?”

Oh. Oh. He watched numbly as Chris followed Lance out the door, and wished he could head in the opposite direction, fast.

ahahahhaaaaa, oh god.

anyhow, I have to head off to the store for food, and then prepare for my paranormal team meeting, which will last around six hours, because the leader is the real thing, i.e., thoroughly professional, driven, and an awesome, brilliant, pain in the ass -- and then I have to look for a job, because once in a while I can't help remembering I need to do that. I have 2 cats and a landlord to support.

silveryscrape @ 2011-05-18T00:07:00

2011-05-18T05:07:58Z

Oh, jeez, the last story I ever wrote.

Realized I hadn't emptied my computer trash since, well. Since I got the thing, actually. So I glanced through the hundreds of files in there, for nostalgia, really -- travel RN contracts! pics of Sutro Tower in SF! -- and found this.

Seriously, I thought I'd lost it. A remix of some story I don't remember, probably easily found by someone not all hopped up on Benadryl, such as myself. (Seems Trader Joe's dehydrated strawberries make my throat close up, but that's another story, lucky for you.)

TrickC. Oh, my heart.

Uh. Lj cut? Let's see...

Use Is the Closest You'll Get to What You Want (before & after science remix)

(a million miles, a million miles)

"Okay, so, hi."

"Hey," Chris said cautiously, setting aside his Walkman and stuffing a pillow behind his back. That little line between his eyes, the muscle tensed in his jaw -- clearly JC had made up his mind about something, and that could never be good.

"How are you," JC said, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Um... good?"

"Good."

"...Yeah," Chris said after a few seconds. "Well. Always nice talking to you, C, but, ah --"

"I think we should sleep together."

Chris's spine snapped bolt-straight and he could feel his jaw actually drop. "Say what," he managed, and how on earth could JC be looking so pissed off at him, when he, um -- when he -- um.

"Don't even pretend you haven't been coming on to me, Chris," pissy, and oh shit, with the wild hand gestures, serious DEFCON eleven here. JC's hair was lifting up off his head, and his eyes were shooting sparks, practically -- that long, lean body tense and trembling -- and it was all so very fucking -- sometimes he made JC laugh, maybe. Shit.

"JC --"

JC nodded sharply. "That's right," he said, and pulled his t-shirt up over his head.

"No -- seriously, JC --" Shit, sweatpants! Boxers! He wasn't hard, not even a little bit; actually, he looked kind of cold, goosebumps rising on his arms and along the pale skin of his thighs; grim expression on his face, like he was padding across the gaudy hotel carpeting to his doom. "Seriously, JC --" The bed dipping slightly, holy fuck. There he was, JC Chasez -- bandmate? good friend? -- naked and crawling toward Chris on his hands and knees.

At the first touch of his hands, Chris jumped a mile. Cold as ice, fuck. JC immediately fumbled one hand up under his shirt to shiver across his ribs, and slid the damp fingers of the other over his face and into his hair, and before Chris could duck JC kissed him, kind of crouching there next to him on the bed.

And then sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth on his wrist. "Sorry," he said, looking away and biting his lip. Standing up. Chris watched him pull on the sweats and t-shirt, unable to think of a single thing to say, because shit -- chapped lips and pale, skinny thighs, trembling -- and then it didn't matter anymore, because JC slipped around the edge of the door like he thought he had to sneak out or something.

For a long time, that "sorry" was the worst part of it.

The end.

.........

(down down baby)

Seriously, he could keep going like this for hours. Balls down in Chris's tight, hot ass -- pulling out, just a bit, just enough for a hint of that sweet, sweet slide, then pushing in deep again -- mouth open at the back of Chris's neck, against the slow wash of pleasure, never quite receding, getting him there so slowly -- yeah. Exhaling into the damp hollow behind Chris's ear; Chris's full-body shudder, rocking him. Seriously. Best thing in the world.

"God, JC, you have to let me come," Chris groaned, scrabbling at the sheets. "No," JC hissed, closing his eyes briefly at the liquid pulse in his hips, "wait for it," and he jerked Chris's hand out from under him and pinned it to the bed.

"Fuck." Chris let his head drop. "Fuck."

"It's good," JC said. "See? Like this, it's so -- like this." He pushed once, a quick taste, and had to freeze absolutely still against the wild rush to fuck. "No," he whispered, "nonono no." Chris made the most amazing noise deep in his throat and bucked up once, muscles tight in his arms and back and ass. "Oh fuck," JC said, trying to hold his breath, "it's good."

He let himself start again when Chris relaxed his grip on the sheets. Nice and easy, barely out and right back in, minute hitches of his hips. Easy. Seriously, he could do this forever. Warm waves spreading through his thighs, sliding along his spine -- gathering in his balls -- wait for it --

Until Chris threw back his head and grunted and seized up all over his body, oh jesus fuck -- and JC drove in hard and kept on pushing, until the pleasure crashed through him and took him right down.

Kept him down, too, for a long time, just drowsing, feeling it. Finally Chris writhed under him and heaved, and JC let go of his wrist and fell over on his side, hissing, fumbling to hold the condom in place. Tossing it overboard, finally, and with the last of his strength, rolling back.

Chris had that little catch in his throat like a shudder every time he inhaled, and his lips were swollen and shiny and a flush of red spread across his cheekbones. JC couldn't stop watching him, even when he opened his eyes. Couldn't help kissing him, open-mouthed and deep like they were just getting started, plastered against him and just -- god, he was exhausted, but -- touching Chris, sliding over him, moving with him. Palms over his heaving flanks, fingers through the crisp, damp hair on his abdomen and chest and arms -- lips to the thrumming skin under his jaw -- all the time in the world, it felt like, but soon Chris turned his face away and -- yeah. The night was wearing on.

"So. I better get going," Chris muttered, pulling himself up, scratching through his hair.

"Okay."

"All... righty, then." He frowned.

"Mm, what," JC said, feeling a little blurry at the edges.

"Nothing."

He stood up, and JC's eyes were closing, no more fighting it. Except the bed lurched suddenly and there was Chris, sort of lunging at him, and before JC could react Chris grabbed hold of his knee and pressed a quick, hard kiss to his inner thigh.

"See ya, JC," he said, slapping JC's ass and bouncing away.

JC didn't feel like sleeping for a long time after that, but that was so amazingly fucking okay. It would come.

The end.

silveryscrape @ 2011-05-11T17:08:00

2011-05-11T22:08:42Z

Oh, I miss them so much.

eta: does anyone have a copy of Chasez Lake they could slide my way? Thx.

silveryscrape @ 2010-09-18T09:46:00

2010-09-18T14:46:15Z

Eames/Arthur omg

(almost posted this on fb. heeee)

silveryscrape @ 2010-03-30T13:07:00

2010-03-30T18:07:30Z

You know how you have those dreams that are so real that you wake up and think, "Man, today I'd better dig that box up out of the garden and let all the ghosts out"? For example. Completely random, just... anyway.

I dreamt that JC & Justin were a known thing, like when Lance came out only a few months later, after all the hoo-hah and media and wild discussion, and he was at that point able to simply carry on and live his life - like that. JC and Justin, a couple, and I woke up thinking yep, and it was so nice! Past the I knew it and the rawrrr and the but what about Chris (heh), just... known.

I think that might mean I'm done grieving for my fandom. :-)

Anyway, reading a lot of good old fanfic these days, mostly SGA but some popslash, and thinking of story ideas, lots of 3manbus, and I don't know if I'll write or not and I don't know if I'm the only person in the world thinking about them these days, but, anyway, whatever. All I know is I listened to Space Cowboy the other day and it filled me with glee. Oh, JC. JC.

Maybe still some rawrr.

silveryscrape @ 2009-10-24T15:03:00

2009-10-24T20:06:47Z

Um, wow. I haven't written since Feb?? Crazy.

In the spirit of not sucking for Sesa, frenslist, I'm counting on you. Provide me with a popslash pairing of any variety - ah, nsync variety, I should say - and I'll write a little something about them.

Yeah, it might take a while. But I'd appreciate the encouragement, if you've a mind to.

silveryscrape @ 2009-10-23T14:14:00

2009-10-23T19:16:32Z

Sesa, yes?

silveryscrape @ 2009-09-08T13:47:00

2009-09-08T20:51:28Z

oh my god, this is killing me. I may be dying.

silveryscrape @ 2009-09-05T09:31:00

2009-09-05T16:49:02Z

"Chris Kirkpatrick confirmed you as a friend on Facebook."

*hides face*

I've wrangled this awesome situation at work. I'll continue to work at Stanford in a relief capacity, which is to say in two month increments three times a year, and I'll keep my benefits and seniority and all that jazz... but my home base will be Wisconsin. So every so often I'll wend my way out thisaway, work a little bit and see all my friends - maybe escape some winter? - and then head back and hang out with my beloved family, whom I miss omg so much. \o/

The sad thing is that 6 mo of work at Stanford is roughly equivalent to a year's salary for a WI nurse. Well. Not sad for me. I may not have to work for 6 months of the year.

Later today I'm picking up my new RV, in which I & the kitties will aim for WI soon to get settled in there before the snows come. Watch this space for approx. 834928498 pictures, no doubt.

silveryscrape @ 2009-09-03T13:48:00

2009-09-03T20:57:39Z

Omg, I kind of wish I were there.

There are thousands of burners out on the Playa this year, tens of thousands, and thousands of people watching the live cast. Seriously, check it out. Every year they port everything in for hundreds of miles, build cities & art & just live like that for a couple of weeks, under the sun, in the wind & dust - like a new life or the possibility of one, a new way of living - and then they burn the Man and port everything back out again, everything, garbage included. Crazy fuckers. One of my patients is seriously upset because he'll be missing it for the first time in 9 yrs... yeah, he has no immune system, so no. I should have gone for him. Damn.

Ok - what's the use of Facebook, again? I just signed up for one and here I am, half an hour later. Um, is there anything to do?

silveryscrape @ 2009-08-05T12:54:00

2009-08-05T20:22:47Z

Yay, I got my Beatlefest tickets today! 33rd year of the Fest, which is just so awesome, and my... fourth? Idk, maybe my fourth time out there with Donna and Ash and Erin, and my boss just told me about a Beatles cover band going to be playing in Menlo Park the day before I head out, so there's a great start to the festivities! I.can.not.wait.

Speaking of boss, I may have volunteered myself to do a study on whether & how a discharge planner might help streamline stuff on our unit... like, researching the lit & surveying how other transplant units handle things & how many $$ would be saved despite the $100,000 in salary to bring a dedicated RN specialist on for that... adkfalkdljl I swore I'd never get involved in this kind of nonsensery again, but then I got bored, or something. At least I managed to sidestep the offer to head up our unit council, because I am not entirely stupid. Just a little impulsive, I guess.

Also, Remix is up, I just finally realized, so I'm happily reading through. When are the authors announced? Dude -- mine is totally easy to guess. How embarrassing. Anyone wanna give it a go? *eyebrows*

OH. Ha. I may have been doing a bit of googling the other day -- "jc chasez fierce hat," yeah, no, I don't know -- and came across this, which is no doubt old school to all of you lj whippersnappers, but filled me with GLEE.

In which Ohnotheydidnt falls under the Spell of the Chasez and some of them actually say OH JC

Don't Hate, Thank You.

silveryscrape @ 2009-07-21T06:18:00

2009-07-21T13:43:26Z

Annie Lennx/DJ Earworm, Backwards/Forwards

Absolutely the most amazing Mashup I've ever heard/seen. Gorgeous.

Remix in the can, just about as late as usual; a tradition! I did something a little different this time, and also enjoyed the writing, which was really nice. Thank you, Maggie. You're a gem.

Back to day shift, by the way. Less $$ < The Sun *choir*

Oh! And a new phone #: 408-368-8526. It was tough, since I've had a New Mexico exchange for like 10 yrs. But omg - I fuckin' love this iPhone. Soul, pissh. Overrated.

Comparison of places I've lived, A guide to fine living:

Wisconsin - Culver's
Florida - Chik-fil-A, Pollo Tropical
California - In-N-Out Burger
New Mexico - ...tamales out of the back of someone's truck, made by gramma. Mmm. And Guadalajara Grill

Didn't end up jetting off to NM. I decided to save money instead. PISSH. Maybe next year!

silveryscrape @ 2009-07-04T00:27:00

2009-07-04T07:37:59Z

I didn't know they broke up. :(

Going to be in Taos July 16-20, if anyone's in the mood for some sky.

ps. Remix due when??? Criminey.

silveryscrape @ 2009-05-01T22:06:00

2009-05-02T05:06:53Z

Hiya, lj. I totally forgot I had signed up to be cancelled from work tonight, so as I was pulling out of my garage, grumbling (as you do), I got the call. Whee! So I immediately squeeled on outa here and headed for the Salvation Army store on El Camino, and got like 3 shirts and 7 books and some sheets for my bed and a crocheted poncho, all for 8 bucks. It was half-off day today, you see.

(Cutest little girl there, name was Amicham, which I know because her mother said it approx. 4,000 times. Amicham went up to every single person in the store and said Heellloooooooo, just like Seinfeld, and I laughed every time. Amicham had DORA THE EXPLORER shoes, except she called them Doya, and Amicham was a year and a half old, except she told everyone she was 5, and omg - so cute. Made me miss my niece, who I remember being a year and a half old as if it were just yesterday, but who just bought her first bra. What!!)

Totally made up for the most boring mall in the world, aka Stanford Shopping Center, which I went to last week for the hell of it. Now, I'm not opposed to spending money (<.<), but when Banana Republic is the red-headed stepstore stuck all the way in the back, well. Five hundred smackers for a pair of shoes should be a special, giddy-making occasion, y'all, not a typical afternoon out. Freaking Palo Alto. There are stables here. For the students who bring their horses to college.

Thank goodness I'm not the envious type.

All signed up for massage school, which starts in October - the latest move in my continuing quest for a job that doesn't stress me out. Stanford Hospital is awesome, the pay is fantastic, the unit and the people, I love 'em quite a bit. I fit in very well. But, you know, nursing, and 13 hr days, non-stop, so I'm heading up to Berkeley 3 days a week come fall to become an Esalen certified massage person, which is to say, massage with all kinds of energy work & mindfulness & right living & such added in. There are also classes in bodywork for terminal illness and for trauma and for old people, and also I get some kind of discount on workshops at the Esalen Retreat in Big Sur, which seems like a way cool place, and all in all this way I'll be playing to my strengths as a comforter and also finding a way to transition away from bedside nursing. I'm excited about it!

/random

Here's a couple of fun links for ya, by way of saying Happy May!

Down with This Sort of Thing, I tell you. *snif*

People are Awesome. Also, dogs. Sheep... are really, really patient.

silveryscrape @ 2009-04-17T14:37:00

2009-04-17T21:38:46Z

OMG OMG I WANT A COOOOOOODE.

/hee <3 donna

silveryscrape @ 2009-04-17T11:10:00

2009-04-17T18:17:36Z

Oops, dreaded NTLDR error on my Windows-based laptop. Thank goodness for my MacBook.

Anyhow, Person Who is Remixing One of My Stories, you can check out the My Fiction tag here on my journal for the few stories that aren't on the website, and also there's this: my MTYG story from last year, which also didn't get up there yet.

And now, we troubleshoot. Friskin' Windows.

silveryscrape @ 2009-04-16T20:53:00

2009-04-17T04:29:05Z

Hi, Person Who is Writing a Remix of One of My Stories! Hi!

I'm updating my website tonight just for you, because I realize I haven't done that in like a year. Two years. I haven't written a ton in that time, but there are about 5 or so stories to go up, so I'll do that tonight. Sorry it took me so long; had to fix the partitions on my external hard drive to access my site template, etc., (*nailbite*) but turns out it's all good and I'll upload them all and you'll have more to choose from, and yay. Yay, right?

If you are someone who doesn't read here - and who does, since do I ever update? No, I do not - but anyway, could someone pass the word on? Thanks, thank you, someone -

Anyway, I'm ridiculously thrilled to be writing remix again, and thrilled you are remixing my story. I hope you have fun with it or at least get something out of the writing. You know, go wild, do what you want: there's no way you ever offend me by thinking a lot about one of my stories and then writing your own version - are you kidding? I can't wait to see what you come up with.

Now, on to the uploading. Be tough not to get distracted by all the wips I just found on this old hard drive. Chris and Joey, betting on who would win in a fight between JC and Justin! I gotta finish that! JC and Chris, fucking in a hammock! Ha ha, ouch. And music! All my old files from when I ripped the 3000 cds to move away from New Mexico! And pictures - criminey, if the repartition hadn't worked... D:

Today I went here, to see Babbage's Difference Engine Number 2 in action. It's the most beautiful machine I've ever seen. Watch the little vid on that page to see what I mean... while I was wandering around the museum, which is filled with awesome old computers with like vacuum tubes and punch cards and things, some dude wandered up to me and said, "Um, are you terribly technical at all?" I told him no, not at all. So then he looked at me, and at the freaking huge Eniac or something that I was looking at, and pointed to a picture of a room full of components and said in a slow, careful voice, "All of this is one single computer."

To my credit, I did not answer the way I wanted to. Soon he wandered away, and I got lost again in fond memories of my first computer, an IBM PC with an Intel 8088, running DOS, and how I used to spend my evenings calling up random BBS's and half the time sending modem tones into some poor schmuck's ear. Ha ha, loved that. I'm no hacker, god knows, but man, I worship me some computers.

Do you remember your first?

silveryscrape @ 2009-03-18T11:33:00

2009-03-18T18:48:10Z

Happy JuC Day, y'all! I was gonna try to have this one story done in time, but - yeah.

Anyway, Sunnyvale is awesome, even though at times there's a funny smell in the air (I call it Sunnydale, but no one gets the ref, so sad) and I'm surrounded by big companies with guard houses in the parking lot called things like "Applied Materials'" which, could you possibly be more ominous and vague?? But I love my apt and my drive to work has been cut in half, also I'm back on nights and am loving that, because I'm way too old and tore down to put up with the daytime craziness, which is to say, management and politics and phone calls and doctors and, just, ugh.

But for now, I must hop in the shower, so that I may venture off to eat lunch with frausorge, Afghani food. I'm thinking the pumpkin, yes?

Oh! Oh! And I almost forgot, going to Disney World with withdiamonds soon! Omg omg, can't wait! It's been forever since we saw each other. Omg, literally.