Do they have to be straight boys to have a shot at winning?

hmmm, now that's an interesting question. No, I don't think so. Pretty minions are pretty minions. And someone needs to pick out my clothes.

Missed you a bunch this weekend, matt! did you get the text from dinner? We weren't sure that we had the right number.

The animals let us sleep in this morning! It's a Buffista miracle!

Nooo, I didn't get anyone's text over the weekend. I considered calling the evening of prom, but was still zombified from my deadline last week and figured I wouldn't exactly be a source of sparkling conversation if I did...

I don't know that any of the guys from The League of Out-of-My-League Exes would be able to help with fashion decisions (The prettiest of them all has picked out some truly eye-searing abominations to wear himself, and the one who appeared in Playgirl is a flannel-wearing factory worker by day), but they'd look nice doing whatever other tasks you cared to assign.

Midnight on Tuesday, and I am home, after some twenty plus hours of travel which was blessedly uneventful. Apart from the moment at Seattle Airport where I got on the train thing to go to my gate, sat down, looked at THE EMPTY SPACE WHERE MY BOARDING CARDS WERE NO LONGER STICKING OUT OF MY PASSPORT, looked out through the window in horror to spot them on the floor where I'd been standing, said "FUCK!" very loudly (to the distress of the mother of the small boy next to me) and sprang to my feet just as the doors closed.

...Two minutes later the train had done its circuit of the gates and I was back at the spot where my boarding cards had fallen.

They, alas, were not.

Cue definite brink-of-tears-ness, because I was already feeling v. tired and emotional, and the prospect of my flight home being in any way fucked up was made of fail.

Happily, for once the sitcom that is my life did not deliver a serious kick in the arse, and instead when I got to the gate and started to beg for help, the lady at the counter handed over the boarding cards, which someone had evidently picked up and handed in.

So that was that. Well, other than opening my mailbox in the expectation of finding the key to my apartment and...not finding the key to my apartment. And having to wake up my neighbour and say "Hi! Um...sorry, but - key?" and he was all "It's in your mailbox" and I was all "...but, I just looked" and it all looked a bit rubbish, and like I'd be sleeping on his floor. And so I went back downstairs and searched it again, and found the key in the darkest shadowiest spot at the back of the mailbox. So I needn't have woken the poor man up at all. Bad Fay. No cookie.

...

...

...oh, fucking POLAR BEAR. I don't like being on the other side of the planet. Stupid polarbearing geography! I miss you people! I love you like Winchesters.

I love you like Winchesters.

...violently?

...with rock salt?

...to hell and back?

...like burning?

...incestuously?

...to a classic rock soundtrack?

... as written by a semi-crazy person, and astonished to find out what is posted online?

t /obligatory "Monster At The End Of This Book" ref

as written by a semi-crazy person, and astonished to find out what is posted online?

Hee. Speaking of which, Fay, I did eventually find that bit with me. Which was quite much off screen indeed. And very much NOT the scene SA and I initially thought. But does make the "oooh, read it outloud" mistake all the much funnier. Heheheheh.

Am currently in the Spokane airport, killing time, as I arrived in plenty of time for an earlier flight which turns out to be full. BUT, it does look like I'll get home in time to attend Jilli's book thing!! (So maybe I can meet Omnis' people in person, heyyyy...)