November 26th, 2003


(no subject)

It's almost 8am. I should be on my way to work. This, however, is not happening. Why? Because I woke up with a migraine. And not one of these piddly little, I-can-take-something-and-it-will-be-gone-by-the-time-I-get-to-work migraine. No, that would be too easy. It's one of these migraines where my entire body hurts, where even the black curtains in my bedroom let in too much light, where I think it is quite possible I might throw up everything I own. Which is pretty impressive, considering that fully half of what I own is in Silver Spring and the rest of it is here in Greenbelt. Maybe that's the solution to the teleportation thing, though honestly, Ari, I am not sure that's something you want to go through.
I'm gonna try to go back to bed and not die. Though, death sounds pretty good right about now.

Anyone who knows me ...

will know why this caught my attention.

You are


"Your face is a poem. I can read it."

What "Buffy" Character Are You?

Spike: How was your walk, pet?
Drusilla: I met an old man. I didn't like him. He got stuck in my teeth.

Spike: Whatcha doin', love?
Drusilla: I'm naming the stars.
Spike: You can't see the stars, love. That's the ceiling. Also it's day.
Drusilla: No, I can see them. But I've named them all the same name, and there's terrible confusion.

Drusilla: We're going to destroy the world, wanna come?

Drusilla: [giving Spike a puppy] I've named her Sunshine. Her owner died...without a fight.

[Angelus and Spike are about to trade blows]
Darla: [sing-song] Look's like our boys are going to fight.
Drusilla: The King of Cups expects a picnic! But this is not his birthday!
Darla: Good point.

Drusilla: Oh, we can you know. We can love quite well... if not wisely.

... I dunno. Think it works for me.

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