(no subject)

Watched The O.C. tonight, and seriously don't know whether to smack Seth and hug him for a good long while.

Hmm. Nope, definitely hugging. How come I can't find a guy like that? All I get are creepy drunk guys who hit on me at the bus stop and guys whose idea of closing out a conversation in a suave, charming way is by repeatedly asking, "What's your name again?"

"Oh, God, are they coming in already?" *snerk*

*snuggles Goonies-dealing adorable nerd*

And hey, I might actually get my Jake/Rogue story done this week. Well, either that, or the Spike/Kyle story. For some weird reason, I keep picturing the Spike/Kyle story as quite possibly the worst blind date ever, followed by the strangest morning-after ever. (Not counting that creepy Sharon Stone/AOL symbol commercial. Guys, get a private chat room.) Because as I think we all know, The Pairing List That Ate Fandom can only result in abject embarrassment, rashes in strange places, and diabolical world takeovers with lovable evil-doers you never knew you always wanted.

Okay, okay, I promise to never blatantly misquote Matthew Perry films again.

Or to remember that Matthew Perry has a film career.

Okay, maybe not so much a career as a job standing around and snarking while cameras encircle like hungry sharks and --

You know what? Shutting up now.

P.S. Did I mention I've decided I'm getting a Squirt tattoo as soon as I scrape together the money? No? Well, that's done, then.

(no subject)

I went shopping today and got me a pretty new winter coat. Wheeeee!

It's all rose-colored and warm and cuddly. *snuggles* I bought it at Old Navy, which has the world's most annoying commercials and is a company that I despise, but golly, do they make pretty clothes.

So I bought my coat, fleece gloves, and a scarf at Old Navy, which means I've already made my daily tithing payment for the unholy minions of the Satanic underworld. This, of course, means another lame commercial with a washed-up sitcom actor you despise.

But isn't my coat pretty? *purrs*

Oh, and also, apparently, I work in "The Office". I could have sworn my job was located in Alexandria, but evidently, everybody I work with is really an annoying side character from a British sitcom.

And now some of them want me to go drinking with them on Saturday. Um, I think I have mange. And ... uh ... anthrax. And maybe a mild case of prostate cancer. Uh-huh. *nods solemnly*

EDIT: You know, if the guys in the office want to stop making snarky racist comments about the drivers, that'd be nice, too. I'm just sayin'.