'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
The Bank Lady assures us that the money will be returned, by the bank, hopefully by tomorrow, but I'll believe that when I see it. Stephen had to check off a whole list of transactions that weren't ours. One of them was a $1,000 ATM withdrawal. How do you do that without a card?!
Thanks for the good wishes, guys. Off to make up my face and storm the castle go to my interview.
OMG, AmyLiz! Ahhh! I'm sorry!
Oh, holy fuck, Amy. Please, please say that your bank is at least recognizing that it wasn't anything of your doing and that they're working on crediting it all back to you. Please say this, before I bankrupt myself buying a same-day ticket back east to go apeshit on their asses, because at this point I have a *lot* of on-behalf-of-friends undifferentiated rage and I'd love any excuse to differentiate it and unload it on someone.
Also, every ounce of calm and job~ma I've got, to get you through the interview. And find-a-damn-vein-that-works-and-stop-torturing-your-mom~ma to the hospital.
FUCK.
Good luck with the interview, Amy. Vibing hard for the bank to do right by you with minimal hassle. And continued health~ma for your mother.
Today is looking to get smacked around.
Ok. So wierd.
I has out back, having a smoke and Random Homeless Lady comes back there, asks to bum a cig and then asks me about the building and if there are any vacancies.
WTF?? You are trespassing. Get out of the backyard.
Naturally, I did not say this, but I did lock the door as I came back inside.
Today is looking to get smacked around.
I feel like I shouldn't have left the house!
I haven't left the house. It doesn't help.
That's extremely random, Aimee.
That's extremely random, Aimee.
I know!
Now I don't want to leave and go to the library.
I know that it is probably damned horrible of me and very assumptive that she'd do something, but she she kind of jumped when she saw me sitting on my porch and the asking for a smoke seemed like a "Fuck. Got caught sneaking around. Must cover ass."
Funny how when one is talking tough, one forgets who is in close proximity to the BATCOMPUTER with a GIANT MUG OF VANILLA LATTE!!!!!!!
Also? Your MiracleMan statue now lives in the CAT BOX.
1) You love the BatComputer as much as I do. You wouldn't harm it.
b) If Miracleman is in the catbox when I get home, I am taking your big ass Wicked: Behind the Scenes book, setting it on fire and pissing on the ashes.
In other news: Love you, baby.
Love you, too.
And it's called The Grimerie