a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
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Warning: Adult Content
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2001-12-03 - 1:23 p.m.
Eureka!
I've figured it out!
No, not the CLex smut, though I'm working on that.
I've figured out why Clark/Lex appeals almost as much as Logan/Rogue.
Look at the similarities.
Clark will never have a normal life, as much as he longs for one.
Lex is abnormal, too, a freak that everyone fears and hates because of what others have made him, and what he chooses to become.
Think about it.
It's got some of the same epic Buffy/Angel appeal, without the ishyness of necrophilia or the overall whinyness that made B/A so unenjoyable as it dragged endlessly on.
::shrug::
Just thought I'd share.
Gotta go have lunch now.
~vic
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~*~
2001-12-03 - 12:18 p.m.
Arrgh!
Okay, so I'm working on getting Clark and Lex out of the gallery and to someplace where they can screw like rabid weasels.
But they won't shut up! Clark's having cold feet, Lex is being all Luthor-y, and if I wasn't at work, I'd be screaming at the computer, "Why aren't you fucking? You're supposed to be fucking by now!"
Arrgh.
Here's what I've got so far, of this section:
Disclaimers: Not mine, etc. see below.
***
It was three days before he heard from Lex again -- a brief message on the answering machine. "Be ready tonight at eight. Wear a suit."
A few hours later, he came down the stairs to see his parents dressed up as well. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, then Martha said, "Oh, Clark, you look so handsome in that suit. Look, Jonathan, our little boy is growing up."
This had been happening a lot lately. Chloe speculated that Martha was going through the Change. Clark didn't like to talk about it all. Such blatantly female things still made him uncomfortable.
He stood now under their warm regard, and said, "Fundraiser with Lex." He prayed they wouldn't ask any questions. He didn't think he'd be able to explain to his parents that he was going to prostitute himself to the son of their worst enemy in order to save the farm.
Fundraiser. He snorted. He was turning out to have an unexpected aptitude for puns.
His father opened his mouth to say something, but once again, Martha beat him to the punch. "We won't wait up, then. Have a nice time." And she pushed Jonathan out the door before he could ask any questions.
It wasn't until he was sitting on the porch waiting to be picked up that he realized he didn't know where they were headed. He hoped he didn't run into them while with Lex. That would be more than awkward. Even though he didn't believe, deep down, that Lex was going to hold him to his promise.
Which should have relieved, rather than disappointed him, if he thought about it.
He heard the car before he saw it, the long, black limousine cutting through the dusk like a shark. He didn't wait for Joachim to get out and open the door for him; he slid into the dim leather interior and saw Lex, brandy snifter in hand, looking at him. Lex wore a smile that could only be called predatory, and Clark's stomach flip-flopped.
"Nice suit," Lex said.
"It should be, for what you spent on it."
That won him a warmer smile, and Clark recalled the day they'd spent at the castle, getting measured. He'd never had a custom-made suit before, but Lex had insisted. It had been his high school graduation present.
One of them, anyway.
A paid internship at the "Inquisitor" had been the other.
Lex's hand on his knee jolted him back to the present. He looked at the long fingers with their well-manicured nails. Lex's grip was strong, but not coercive. The phrase, "iron fist in a velvet glove" ran through Clark's mind as Lex said, "Brandy?"
He hesitated. He'd rarely accepted Lex's offers of alcoholic refreshment, and he had a feeling he might want to keep a clear head tonight.
"You're tense," Lex said matter-of-factly. "It'll take the edge off."
There was that. He nodded, his throat dry as Lex's hand moved briefly up his thigh before leaving his leg altogether for the brandy decanter. He watched, fascinated, as Lex poured the rich, golden-brown liquid into the delicate glass.
Gentle, graceful hands, and was he insane for suddenly feeling jealous of inanimate objects?
He took the snifter from Lex, who dragged one finger across the back of his hand, sending shivers of anticipation down his spine.
He took a sip, closing his eyes as the smooth burn slid down his throat and warmed his chest.
"God," he heard Lex whisper. He opened his eyes to find Lex's enigmatic blue eyes staring at him, lids heavy and pupils dilated. He licked his lips and took another sip as Lex's hand returned to his leg, this time, higher up on his thigh. He felt his cock twitch in response. He realized he was holding the brandy in his mouth, and let it slide down his throat. Then he leaned in to taste Lex's mouth.
Whisper soft, their lips met, and nothing had ever felt so good as kissing Lex; it was even better than he remembered. Lex tasted of brandy and breath mints and something indefinable that made his breath hitch.
Lex licked at his lips and Clark opened his mouth eagerly, already aching for more.
The kiss grew fierce, tongues dueling as they learned the taste and feel of each other. Once again, Clark felt compelled to run his hands over Lex's scalp, which drew a low growl from him. Lex pulled his lips away and Clark grunted in protest, but Lex was already nibbling on his jaw, gently biting and licking his way up to Clark's earlobe, which he bit lightly, then sucked on, earning him a moan.
Clark's hands were everywhere, trying to imprint the feel of Lex on his fingertips, memorize the taste of his skin and keep it on his tongue forever. He moaned when Lex undid his zipper and thumbed the head of his penis through his boxer shorts. "Lex, please." He sounded pathetic, but he didn't care. "This is going too fast." As soon as he said the words, he knew it was a lie.
Lex knew it as well. "Is it?" he asked, his hands stopping, and Clark moaned again, grabbing at Lex's shoulders. Lex grinned. "I didn't think so." He slid his hand into Clark's shorts, just as the car came to a stop.
"Tiburon Galleries, Mr. Luthor," Joachim said.
"Shit," Clark muttered, and Lex laughed. It was a sound that made Clark's heart turn over, and he knew, suddenly, that however this ended, at least for tonight he'd somehow made Lex happy.
"Let's go, loverboy. We can always finish up later."
As they entered the gallery, Lex was immediately pulled away by one of his drones. Clark vaguely recognized the man, but couldn't recall his name. He moved into the room, uncomfortable amidst the high society and big business types. Cameras flashed as Lex shook hands with an older man in a gray chalk stripe suit.
A waiter proffered a tray of hors d'oeurves and Clark smiled, taking a stuffed crab leg. The waiter winked and walked away.
People swirled around him, but Clark didn't pay them any attention. His mind was stuck on what had happened in the car, and what he knew would be happening on the ride home. It was no longer a question of desire. He knew he wanted Lex, even under these circumstances. Hell, maybe the only way he'd ever have allowed himself to act on his feelings for Lex would be under duress. He could always claim he *had* to, even though he knew that Lex could never force him into anything he didn't want. Sure, Lex was in great shape, but he was no match for Clark physically.
So, he just had to relax and enjoy the ride.
He wasn't sure he was capable of that.
He took a flute of champagne off the next tray that passed by, and stared blindly at the canvas in front of him. He couldn't have said what he was thinking when he felt the hand on his arm.
Turning, he looked into the brown eyes of one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. She was looking at him hungrily. He grinned.
He never could explain his luck in attracting women. His complete and utter failure with them in high school had turned into an astounding success rate once he'd hit college.
"Interesting piece," she said, her eyes slowly sliding over his body.
"Yeah," he said. He knew nothing about art, but he also knew she wasn't talking about the painting on the wall. He rubbed his thumb over the rim of the glass in his hand, and her smile widened, showing even white teeth.
Then Lex was there, his hand on Clark's shoulder. "Daphne."
Daphne inclined her head. "Lex. How utterly predictable."
"You never were able to keep up, were you?" he answered.
"There are some times when speed isn't a man's best friend," she said.
"Oh, I don't know," Lex replied, his hand now idly stroking Clark's hair where it brushed the collar of his suit, sending shivers down his spine. "There are some situations where getting in and out quickly is far preferable to sticking around for the ending, which is invariably a disappointment."
And, exerting subtle pressure with his body and his fingers, he steered Clark away from the woman, who wore a distinctly sour expression.
"Old girlfriend," Lex said.
"I figured."
"I have to talk to a couple more people, but then we can get out of here."
Clark nodded. "I'll just--" he held up the glass of champagne.
"Not too much," Lex warned. "I don't want you passing out. I've got plans for tonight." And then he was gone.
Clark wandered the rooms, fascinated by the interplay of all these famous -- and looking-to-be famous -- people, more suited to Los Angeles or New York than Metropolis, yet they'd all shown up at the mere hint that Lex would be here.
He didn't understand that kind of power. He understood busting through granite with his bare hands, running faster than a speeding train, even the feeling of well-tempered steel shattering as it met his impervious skin, but he had never been able to fathom how Lex, with a mere glance and a raised eyebrow, was able to command obedience, if not loyalty or affection.
He watched as Lex, in a rare unguarded moment, allowed himself to study the room. Lex stood on the balcony, the entrance to which was roped off, of course. A Luthor king surveying his subjects.
He was angry. Angry at the weather for not cooperating; at the government, who paid lip service to helping small farmers, but invariably poured subsidy money into farms that were already prosperous; at the banks, which refused to refinance the Kent mortgage or loan them any more money; at his parents for not taking the deal Lex had offered three years ago; and at Lex for making him whore himself to save his family. And most of all at himself, for accepting Lex's terms.
He put the glass he'd forgot he was holding down on a tray and pushed his way through the crowd. He was done with this charade.
He wanted Lex. He could finally admit that, to himself if to no one else. But he wasn't going to be some plaything, used and discarded quickly, like Daphne or Victoria or any of the multitude of others Clark knew existed in Lex's past.
He realized his mother was right, much as it galled him. The farm wasn't worth his self-respect. That Lex would even ask it of him made him wonder if she'd been right about everything else, as well.
He was at the door when he felt a hand on his arm.
"Perfect timing," Lex said, flashing a grin. He didn't smile in return, and Lex's demeanor changed instantly. "Did something happen?"
"No. And it's not going to, either." Clark shook his hand off and walked out.
Lex sighed, running a hand over his scalp, and followed.
Joachim was there, opening the door to the limo, but Clark walked right past. Lex leaned against the car, arms folded across his chest.
"What's wrong, Clark?"
Clark stopped. He thought he heard pain in Lex's voice. Maybe he was hearing what he wanted to hear. He turned. "You. Me. This." He waved vaguely at the space between them.
Lex nodded. "I agree that there's way too much space separating us, Clark, but if you get in the car, I'm sure we can fix that."
Clark moved closer, hands unconsciously fisting. "You know that's not what I mean."
Another smile from Lex, this time showing teeth. He inclined his head slightly, all business. "I see." He straightened himself. "Get in the car, Clark."
And Clark found himself in the limousine.
"How do you *do* that?" he blurted, before he could stop himself, and for a moment they were back to being Clark and Lex, friends -- nothing more.
"Years of selective breeding." Clark snorted. "Don't laugh. Studying the Luthor bloodlines will show you we're related to some of the most powerful families in history."
"A modern-day de Medici."
"Someone's been studying."
"This isn't funny, Lex."
"Oh, I don't know. I can think of a few people who'd find it hilarious that I had to pay over a hundred thousand dollars for your sweet, farm-boy ass."
"Fine. Don't pay it. I don't want your money."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "You're going to let the bank foreclose on Ma and Pa because of your *morals*?" Clark didn't respond. "I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to them while they're in the shelter, collecting welfare." Still, Clark said nothing. He couldn't focus with Lex so close. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to turn back the clock to two hours ago, before he'd started thinking about what he was really doing. "Everyone's got their price, Clark," Lex purred, his lips so close to Clark's ear that his breath raised goosebumps on his arms.
He closed his eyes and bit his lip, clinging to the last vestiges of his anger. "Not me." He heard some papers rustling.
"Well, okay then," Lex said. "I guess I can rip this up." Clark's eyes flew open to see Lex holding a manila envelope.
"What's that?"
"The deed to the farm, free and clear. In your father's name, of course." Lex shrugged. "But if you're going to renege on our deal--"
"No. No. Wait."
"What is it, Clark? Yes, or no?" Lex stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed. "Oh, no, sweetcheeks. You want me to force you into it, so you can say I *made* you do it." He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. You'll fuck me because you want to, not because you didn't have a choice."
Once again, Clark was startled at the way other people seemed to read his thoughts so easily. Well, only his mother and Lex. Which made him laugh. That eyebrow arched again, in question.
"You remind me of my mother sometimes," Clark said, still laughing.
Even the famed Luthor sang-froid was tested by that remark. It took Lex a moment to get his expression under control. "Okay," he said finally. "Not exactly the image I'm going for, Clark, unless... Is there something about your mother you haven't shared?"
~*~
Arrgh. How am I going to get the mood back, now that Clark's brought Martha into it? Not that she's not a hottie, 'cause she is, but damn! I could see Martha/Lex in the right circumstances. But even though Clark's not her biological child, Clark/Martha is ISHY.
So I'll just be sitting here, banging my head on my desk.
~vic
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2001-12-03 - 10:27 a.m.
dizzy
so I've gotten the boys to groping and then they arrive at the damn function they're attending.
Clark was not happy with me, though Lex took it with surprising equanimity. He has plans, so he's not worried about a couple hours delay.
And yes, I do talk about the characters as if they were real people. When I'm writing, they become real. They have to, or what's the point?
Feeling very dizzy today. I turn my head and I think I'm going to fall over.
I wonder if I have a vestibular problem.
Wacky woman on the subway this morning, singing out loud with her Walkman. She was awful. AWFUL. And "Walking in Memphis"? Why?
So, the 'rents managed to schedule an engineer's visit this after at 3:30, so the house thing may happen soon, pending the engineer's report.
No wonder my head is spinning.
~victoria
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2001-12-02 - 11:09 p.m.
lyrics
lyrics of the moment:
"rulers make bad lovers / better put your kingdom up for sale / up for sale / did she make you cry / make you break down / shatter your illusions of love? / Is it over now? / Do you know how / to pick up the pieces and go home?" - Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac
"Fucking and fighting / it's all the same / living until we die's the only way to stay sane / let the loving / let the loving come back to me" - What I Got by Sublime
All the words to "The Whole of the Moon" by the Waterboys, but especially:
"With a torch in your pocket /and the wind in your sails/ you came like a comet / blazing your trail / too high / too far / too soon / you saw the whole of the moon"
And, a perennial favorite:
"Baby if you wanna be wild / you got a lot to learn / close your eyes / let them melt /let them fire / let them burn..." - Candy's Room by Bruce. Love that whole song. "She has fancy cars and diamond rings / she has men who'll give her everything / she wants / but they don't see / that what she wants / is me"
Sigh...
~vic
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2001-12-02 - 6:50 p.m.
Hogwarts Express
crawling out of the haze of pain from crampage to say I saw Harry Potter today, and it ROCKS.
I loved the casting. Hagrid was excellent, and the kids were wonderful. I thought it was kinda funny that Draco Malfoy looked like Macauley Culkin. After all Chris Columbus directed Home Alone.
Problems in the parents' attempts to buy a house. Much phone calling and offers made and speaking with lawyers about engineers.
Nothing is ever easy for us.
~vic
waiting for the advil to kick in
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2001-12-01 - 8:21 p.m.
busy day
Lots of stuff going on today. Did a ton of christmas shopping, which is good. Went big on pajamas and aromatherapy gifts.
Mommy and Daddy bought a house.
Well, not yet, technically. The current owner has to sign off on the paper thingy to start the wheels turning. They were waiting for the fax when I left.
And yes, I'm 30 and I still call my parents Mommy and Daddy. Why am I going to change for you?
Dom and Helen and the kids were in today. Nicole is still wheezing. She misses me, misses the house.
I can understand that. I miss them. I sometimes still miss living at home, even though it's been seven years since I left. And the thought of someone living in that house, that's been *our* house for the past 60 years, is just freaky.
I know - I tend to get attached and sentimental. Don't tell anyone, all right?
On the fic front, no writing got done today. I want to write the Grampa!Logan fic and I want to do it quickly, but I keep getting distracted. And I still have to let the boys get all smutty.
Sigh.
I need ice cream.
~vic
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2001-12-01 - 12:17 a.m.
CD-R
Woohoo!
Writeable CD drive came! So excited.
Unfortunately, Daddy forgot to pick up blank CDs in his excitement about going to see a house.
Which they put a bid on.
I think it's great. I'm also kind of stunned at how quickly they're moving.
It's out by Marg's. Near Mary Ellen, too, and probably about 30 minutes from Dom.
I'm going to be the only one left, soon. I have to get the hell out of this neighborhood. Once they're gone, I'll start looking.
I already know where I want to go; it's just a question of finding a place. And cleaning this place out.
Dear god, it's enough to send me spiralling back into depression, just *thinking* about having to clear this place out.
Michele wants me to talk to Mr. Colombo about her and Paul moving in, if -- I mean, when -- I go.
He'd go for it, I think.
Anyhow, no CDs so I can't test the drive, I've at least got Clark and Lex smooching in the limo now, and I'm going Xmas shopping in the morning.
Things are all right.
~vic
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2001-11-30 - 12:22 p.m.
smut fairy gone missing...please help
The smut fairy has abandoned me.
I have this story here, and I just can't seem to bring the smut. It's really annoying me. Well, actually, I have two fics that need smut, and both are stalled. One is the S/R/L installment of Counting Down, and the other is this C/Lex fic that's just... dying on the vine.
Oh well, here it is, unbetaed and smutless, and in progress. Maybe someday it'll be done.
Disclaimer: All Smallville characters belong to Tollin-Robbins, Warner Bros. and DC Comics; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
~*~
Caveat Emptor
"For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Mark 8:36
~*~
Clark stared at the spreadsheet. He closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and looked again.
The numbers hadn't changed.
He sighed. Drought and the recession had combined to put the Kent farm in a hole so deep even he wouldn't be able to dig them out.
He had swallowed his dream of going to Columbia and settled for Metropolis University, which had offered him a partial track scholarship, but even the money in his college fund hadn't been enough to pull the farm through.
"Clark," his mother said, entering the kitchen, "you're up early." He gestured silently at the pages in front of him and she sat down. "It's not going to change, hon."
"There's got to be something--"
She shook her head, and he noticed the gray strands beginning to invade the red of her hair. "Your father and I will worry about it. You just--"
"Buckle down and do well in school," he interrupted mockingly. How often had he heard that speech over the past few years? "I'm not a kid anymore, Mom. I need to know what's going on around here. I can quit school -- try out for the Sharks. Lex would get me in."
Martha sighed in exasperation. "How many times have we had this conversation, Clark?" she asked, echoing his thoughts a moment ago. "Your dream is to be a reporter, not a running back."
"My dreams don't mean a hell of a lot if I've got no home to come back to," he argued, rising to stand over her.
She stood as well. "Don't let your father hear you talk like that. It'd break his heart. You know how hard he's worked -- we've all worked--"
"If he had just let Lex--"
"Don't even go there, Clark. That was three years ago. It wasn't going to happen then, and it's not going to happen now. You know how your father feels --"
"So his feelings are more important than the farm?" he asked before he could stop the words. He dropped his eyes at his mother's gasp. "Sorry."
"I know you find it hard to understand --"
"You're right. I do." His father might hate Lionel Luthor, but he and Lex were still friends. "You always taught me there was no shame in asking for help."
She reached up and cupped his cheek. "There isn't. But whatever Lex offers you -- it won't be help. Not in the sense that you mean. There will always be a price attached, and that kind of help isn't worth a dime."
He nodded, acknowledging her words, even as he thought,
"Be careful, Clark," Martha said, breaking him out of his reverie. As he walked out the door, he knew she wasn't talking about the drive to school.
He spent the day thinking about it. After discussions with his economics professor and several bank loan officers during the week that followed, he was more convinced than ever that Lex was the only one who could really help him. Help *them*.
And maybe, just maybe, he could stop feeling like Lex saw him as someone who needed to be paid off. He knew Lex hated to be indebted to anyone, and he hoped this would remove that shadow from their friendship.
So when he found himself playing pool that weekend with Lex at the Castle, he ran through the different ways he could ask Lex for what he -- what his family -- needed.
Finally, just as he worked up the nerve to say, "Can I ask you a favor, Lex?" Lex said, "I have some news for you."
They laughed. "You first," Lex insisted.
So he said it again, his voice a little stronger, a little less shaky this time. "Can I ask you a favor?"
"You can always ask, Clark," Lex replied, then took a long pull off his beer. "You don't ask, you never receive."
Clark looked down at his hands, ashamed all of a sudden that it had come to this. "Nah. Forget it. It's nothing."
Lex circled the table until he stood toe-to-toe with Clark. "Obviously, it's not nothing, or you wouldn't be so uptight about it." He put the cue down and leaned one hip against the table. "You need the limo to impress the flavor of the month?"
Clark flushed at the mention of his unlucky love life. He always seemed to long for girls who turned out to be so much -- less -- than he thought they'd be. And there was the secret he had to keep. It was hard to be intimate when you had a huge honking skeleton in the closet. He couldn't ever imagine saying to Megan, the girl he'd just broken up with, "You know, I'm from another planet. And I rescue people in my spare time." It was like something out of one of the comic books Pete used to buy when they were kids. He had a secret identity, for Christ's sake. How ridiculous was that?
"...U2 is in town next month."
He realized Lex was still talking while he'd zoned out to contemplate the mysteries of dating when you were a super-powered alien.
"No, Lex. Nothing like that." His hands tightened on the pool cue and it was only by exerting great control that he didn't snap it in two from tension. "I-- we -- well, I really, would like your help to bail out the farm." The words tumbled out, rushed together, as if by saying it fast, Lex wouldn't understand and the awkward moment would be over.
Lex slid his hands into the pockets of his custom-tailored Armani trousers. Clark knew those pants had probably cost more than his whole wardrobe.
"How much?"
"What?"
"How much do you need?"
"A hundred thousand," Clark replied, unable to look Lex in the eye.
Over the years, he'd never asked Lex for anything he wasn't completely willing and able to give in return to any of his friends. His friendship with Lex had never been about money, and he suddenly felt nauseated to have put them on that footing.
He fumbled with his knapsack, caught between forgetting he'd ever said anything, and pulling out the papers to show Lex the calculations he'd made.
Lex's voice stopped him. "Okay."
"What?" he said again.
"I said, 'Okay.' You owe the bank, right?" Clark nodded. "I'll pay off the loan, interest free. I'll make the repairs your father deems most urgent, and even kick in a little money to get him a new thresher."
Clark swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Everything he needed was being handed to him. If he would only pay the price. He licked his lips. Mindful of his parents' continual warnings about the Luthors and taking their money, he said, "What's in it for you?" He knew that Lex never did anything that didn't profit him somewhere.
Lex took another sip of beer and looked him right in the eye. There was a flash of something Clark couldn't identify in those gray-blue eyes -- pain? anger? -- but Lex had his expression under control quickly.
"You are." There was no mistaking his meaning. They'd danced around it for years, the odd attraction, the occasional frisson of lust when one touched the other. And now Lex was laying his cards on the table.
"I see."
"Do you? Do you really, Clark?"
He put down the beer bottle and was suddenly there, invading Clark's personal space. He ran his thumb over Clark's lips, and then they were kissing.
It was what he'd always imagined; his hands came up to stroke that hairless skull, gently, aware of his own strength and Lex's hidden vulnerability.
Clark was drowning in the sensation of Lex's mouth on his, tongue gently seeking entry and sliding along the insides of his teeth. He whimpered, feeling desire uncurl in his belly, his cock growing hard as he ran his hands over Lex's smooth scalp.
And then Lex pulled away. His eyes were guarded, though a quick glance down told him Lex was just as turned on as he was.
"I'll take care of everything with the bank, Clark. Go home."
Clark was speechless. "But -- You --"
"Go home," Lex repeated, implacable. "Don't worry. I always collect my debts."
***
I know nothing about farming or what it would cost to run Kent Farms or anything. I have no head for finance, and apparently no ability to write sex scenes anymore.
Sigh.
~vic
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~*~
2001-11-30 - 9:21 a.m.
Sleep pretty darling, do not cry
Saddened by George Harrison's death. The Beatles, man. It doesn't get any more epic than that, and the story's half-done now.
Had serious lens problems this morning. Actually had to take my right lens out on the train, because of all the shedding my sweater is doing. Got some wool in my eyes. God, I'm become the living embodiment of a cliche. Shoot me now.
Just a little morbid humor this Friday morning.
Victor will appreciate that someday. I called to talk to him and Nicole yesterday and he said to me, "I have a bump on my head, stitches in my foot, and a fever. That's not cool."
I love this kid. He's five. Even if he weren't my nephew, I'd think he was a panic.
Nicki has pneumonia, so she wasn't interested in talking. She just burped in my ear and handed the phone back to Vivi.
I don't think Helen and Dom anticipated their first week in the new house would be so ... exciting. And I mean that in the bad, 2 trips to the ER in 2 days way.
More later. I'm supposed to be working.
My typing really sucks. Just so's ya know.
~vic
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2001-11-29 - 11:01 p.m.
dead battery
at some point, I'll learn to save all this up and do one big entry, instead of one every hour.
I have to buy a new battery for my laptop. I love my laptop. Called Dell, chatted with a very nice Canadian man who fixed me up. I send the dead battery back, they don't charge me, since I'm still under warranty.
Can I get a woo! and a hoo!? That's like the first time *ever* I've had something that broke still be under warranty.
I think it's against the laws of the universe or something.
Also - found the boots I like at an online store, bought a new pair.
Santana - I highly recommend 'em. Great through snow and ice, and not ugly, either.
~vic
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2001-11-29 - 10:06 p.m.
blasphemy dresses up
it's just sick and wrong, but too damn funny for words.
~vic
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2001-11-29 - 9:12 p.m.
hellos
Well.
I missed the old Peeps & Roaches, which became too much work after I got a job. All that coding and ftp'ing etc. I think this will be easier.
I hope anyway. I liked P&R and felt bad about putting it on hiatus, even though no one ever read it. No one's going to read this either, so
Yes, I am an egoist. Egotist. Whatever. I always get those two confused...Ah me...
~vic
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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.
The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.
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