Maybe it was an odd tech prob...one time.But I never pass up a chance to use my "fuck you". Over the weekend, I might visit and giggle again.

I'm not a good judge, so I left it to you all by leaving it in my lj.

Oh, honey. Yowza. My mother told me once, "Scratch a cynic and you'll find a screaming romantic every time." And it's just so true of Munch.

I am so in awe of your Inner Munchkin. (Yes, I got your mail -- shuttling betweeen my place and mum's hasn't allowed for much in the way of replies, however. Next month should go better, I hope.)

I'm taking the Fifth on that.(What? I need to tell you everything, now. This isn't a talk show...it's a message board...not Montel Williams. It's people's *lives* you're playing with here, at least till Ashcroft finds out what a lefty paradise this is and sends some kind of technothugs in here.)Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyway, thanks Karl. You'll speak up for me at the committment hearing, then? MWAH.

I *so* t heart erika.

not caring if deb and kat perez know it, either.

It's not on the main page of ff.net, sorry. It might be on one of the pages that come up when you're in the process of posting a story. As I recall, Anne McCaffrey's in that list as well.

In fact, I think I'll pop over there and get that list.

edit:
Anne Rice
Anne McCaffrey
Raymond Feist
Robin McKinley
Laurell K. Hamilton
Nora Roberts/J.D. Robb
Irene Radford
P.N. Elrod

Whatta bunch of chickenshits. It's Ok, I'm sure we have a fairly open plural ficcer marriage... but maybe we should save that for another time...an alternate universe, maybe. Cause I love for longer than the immediate moment.

not caring if deb and kat perez know it, either.

Speaking just for me, I applaud your taste.

Aw...you'll have me all Verklempt.

taking my last piece to a morning after of sorts: The Fledgling

After about a week, Munch decides that being a vampire is a pretty sweet gig. It takes that long because he spends the first few days weak and disoriented with his sense of time all fucked up. It reminds him of nothing so much as those days after the shooting, when he was living on old coffee, whatever alcohol he could smuggle in, and junk from the vending machine across the hall from Stan's room. Waking and sleeping kind of blend together and he neither knows nor cares what day it is. -more-

He has a wound on his left hand that hasn't healed yet, which he discovers when some comely minion brings him his first...feed(He can't say "blood" yet...that reminds him of the shooting too.) "Ow! Watch the digits, babe! Have you been sampling the produce or something?"
"You don't remember?"
"No...hence the asking. What?"

"I'd best leave that for Mistress Darla to explain."
"No...I think you'd better tell me now." And he tried to look imposing, which was hard to do, flat on his back, even if, all told, he enjoyed that position very much. But some of his squadroom technique must translate, because the woman explains. "You crawled out of your own grave."
And as crazy as it is, his next thought is "That's great, John. You finally have a transforming experience and you don't remember any of it." He hopes his brother got an eyeful.