Okay, damn, right now I pretty much want to empty my bank account, get on a 'plane and go round up Tom and Allyson and...well, okay, not hug them breathless or snog them to death, because - personal bubbles and no vodka. But quite possibly turn up on doorsteps, smile shyly and do some awkward Sochul Skillz: I'm doing 'em wrong head-ducking and then track down their respective parents and whack them repeatedly with crowbars (futile and unempathetic as that might be).

Jesus, you guys. I'm furious that you got dealt such fucking lousy cards, and weeping uselessly at your guts in working on dealing with the fallout. Stupid fucking universe. Stupid fucking Orcs.

You are both LOVELY, and eminently desirable and loveable and likeable, and you both deserve VERY MUCH BETTER than you've been handed so far.

Seriously. Crowbar. ijs.

(They'd never see it coming! Eccentrically clad Englishwoman with crowbar. And witnesses would just be all "...there was a hat...she had these ruby slippers, there was this silk handbag - actually, it all co-ordinated kind of disturbingly well - oh, and a big ass... her face? Damn. No, didn't notice, too busy staring at the hat..." and then I'd be off to Thailand, disguised in sneakers and jeans, cackling quietly to myself. Possibly murmuring something about burning baby fishes.)

...yeah, okay. Two wrongs blah blah blah healing process blah blah blah. I'm still thinking crowbar.

This Feasting on Asphalt marathon is great. Though Kool-Aid pickles still weird me out.

I don't know whether to be scared or delighted at the image of crowbar wielding Fay.

Personally, I believe she should be wielding an umbrella with a sharpened steel point at the end. It goes with the hat.

I don't know whether to be scared or delighted at the image of crowbar wielding Fay.

I'm more disturbed by the image of Fay in jeans and sneakers.

Ooh, we need a comic book with Crowbar Wielding Fay as the superhero!

Crowbar Wielding Fay as the superhero!

In her exciting global travels accompanied by the fabulous Cat Daniel, International Cat of Mystery.

I'm quite certain that most of my friends are far more amazing, interesting, and wonderful than I could ever pretend to be, and since I can never claim to deserve their friendship I am always grateful for it.

No, recovery is like verdamndt housework. You sweep, you make beds, you mop floors, you shine windows, you dust. But at no one point can you *stop* and say, "I'm done! It's perfect, I don't have to do any of that again."

So true. I think grief is the same way. Every day I find myself picking up moments that remind me of my mom or my dad and of how much I miss them. And of how wonderful they were to me, especially my mom who just totally understood me.

I'm more disturbed by the image of Fay in jeans and sneakers.

Me too. Although I do have some cupcake pink jeans from Marks and Sparks...but sneakers and T shirts are Only For The Gym. In my world.