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So.

I apparently drew a summoning circle in my sleep.

This last dream was like a nightmare. I was running, running away from the scariest thing you can imagine. Those dreams when you can feel that bad thing right on your heels and all you can do is run. Run and hope it doesn't get you.

And then you fall behind and you're sure you're gonna die.

But I didn't. I was lucky. And in the end, I just felt sad. I saw a side of the Doctor I didn't know about, one that was filled with rage and hate. Where did it come from? And will he ever be free of it? It hurt me hearing him talk of his race, all dead. It's not possible, is it? For a whole race to be wiped out?

And for the record, I don't just fall for pretty boys.

How is it February already managed to become tiresome? It's meant to be a short month.

So, I heard this on the radio the other day and it was one of the most fun segments I've heard in a while. And since this is a very diverse group of people I want everyone's opinions.

If you had to pick one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be?

And what song is your favorite song to scream sing?

I think my answer to both of them is: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. It is one of my favorite songs. I even have to do all the instrumentals.

Alright, give me yours!

What do you do when you're not really dating someone on Valentine's Day? Is there some sort of protocol for friends-with-benefits that I'm unaware of?

Well, that was the bloody strangest last couple of days I've ever lived through without needing a shite dream--

....


Where is my dog?

I don't own a dog. Not even a little bit.


I also don't live here.

For Christmas, I received a calender where each day is a wafer of pressed tea. When the day is done you pull it off and have a nice cuppa before bed. Or you could do it to start your day, I suppose.

A week in, I have to say this tea is fantastic. And my kitchen smells of tea leaves.

Perfect gift.

Of course it snows just in time for Da to get here. Which means he feels more at home, but the poor man certainly did not pack for it.

At least all my jumpers are oversized, and the snow is preventing him from wearing hideously patterned shorts.

Eggnog's invaded absolutely everything. This is worse than the pumpkin epidemic.

Someone had the audacity to bring me an eggnog latte the other day. I ask you, who mixes eggnog with perfectly good espresso?

Disgusting.

So, there's been a project in the backyard I've been working on for the past...while. It's been pretty difficult between setting up the new shop, Cas being gorgeous, and other crap that comes up, and not only that but hiding it from my husband. But it's finally done and I got to reveal it to him today.

( Cut for image. Totally work safe. )

So now he has his own quiet place to read and if he doesn't want anyone joining him, he can just fold up the ladder (you can't tell in the pic, but there's strategically placed hinges) and enjoy tea or whatever by himself. It's all cushions and beanbags and bookshelves inside.

I'd call it an early christmas present, but this is more just something I promised him even when he didn't think I was being serious.

But shit, not to be all sappy (more sappy) and crap, but I'm a better man because he's in my life and sometimes the people you love need to be shown that you love them, not just told. (over and over again.)

Shut up.

I feel like I relate to this far more than I strictly ought to.

That, and there's apparently a twitter called VeryBritishProblems. I think there's quite a few of us here on the 'net that would appreciate and sympathize with most of those tweets.

So rather than my flying out to London for Christmas, my father's suggested that he come here to visit me.

Which is all well and good, since I'm petrified of flying, but it also opens up a whole new slew of problems. When I go to visit him, I can stay in my old room and bum around London and entertain myself when I'm not having the required dinners with dad and his sister.

But if he visits me, I have to figure out where to put him up, what to do with him when I'm at work, what to do with him when I'm not at work --

Eugh. He's a sixty year old man, he can take care of himself, but I'd feel obligated to entertain him somehow.

I don't think I'm going to do anything for Halloween this year. I put a pumpkin out, and within twenty-four hours some hooligans had smashed it.

I'm slowly but surely turning into a grumpy old man who yells at small children to get off his lawn.

(ooc: slightly nsfw in comments)

Firstly, Uncle John, avert your eyes.

Secondly, to all the lads I've ever shagged, especially the one that just left my flat:

In the slightly anglicized version of Louis C.K.'s most recent special: If I try to "cuddle" after shagging, it's not because I'm needy. It's because I'm bloody gagging for it! You think it's needy because you've done your business, et cetera, but I have gotten bugger all out of this experience!

It's like the man says. Trust me, when you shag me good and proper? I'll leave you alone.

Oh, just watch the clip. It's all true.

Bloody fucking Christ. I take back any and all fucking curiosity about those dreams.

Never again.

That dream was horrible, I need a drink.

I thought I felt a breeze today, which means I've dug out the warm sweaters and knit scarves.

I'm so very, very ready for it to be fall.

God. Home, bored, listening to Radio One, and turns out they're playing Innuendo Bingo. According to Evan Davies, it's now eight o'cock. Spat my bloody drink everywhere.

Some madman installed an espresso machine in the lounge.

It's marvelous, I may never sleep again.

Apparently when I vanish off the face of the planet, I'm missed.

Maybe I should do it more often. I rather like being missed.

No new news indeed.

SO WHO'S THROWING MY BACHELOR PARTY?

edit; KIDDING IT'S GONNA BE SATURDAY AT 9:30 AT OKUGATA

Does this state have autumn? At all? Ever? I just want a reason not to look like a pedophile in this coat. It's bloody ridiculous.


In other news:
There is no new news.


Gem -
Still on for lunch tomorrow?

I'm sorry, lads and lasses, but what the Almighty Fuck is going on here?

Not entirely sure what this is when it's at home, but I suppose the worst that'll happen is they'll find a reason to deport me. Name's Gemma Masters. Nothing special; I'm a bartender, looking for a position here in the county, and no, I won't flash you me tits if you tip well. I keep myself to myself, but I suppose it might not be bad to meet people. Don't mean we'll be bosom friends, though.

Good lord but work has been stressful lately. I mean, really honestly ridiculously difficult. Thank god for a certain someone buying me pints now and again and keeping me sane.

I think I'm amongst the living again, however.

Saturday night. And I've become the person who's sitting on my computer and updating the internet with news about the fact that I am so fucking clearly not doing a thing. That must be obvious, though. No one updates the internet when they have real things to be doing.

I mean. I fed my dog. The little wanker isn't even grateful.

Bollocks.

It appears someone has replaced my coffee with flowers at my desk.

I know I said the morning coffee tastes like dirt, I thank you for listening and they're quite lovely, but I'd need like it back now.

So.

If I, er, had anyone over last night, I suppose I'd like to say ta for the good time - if we had a good time. Alternately, sorry if it was a bore (but I don't think it would have been).

I have your jacket. It's a bit of an over coat, trench? Beige / tan? And I've got to say, it fits me bloody perfectly and I've no intention at all of giving it back.

Whoever you are.

I don't know what the hell I just saw on TV, but let me say this: I'm military, and on behalf of every military man who has ever called his testicles his "clip"? I'm so sorry, ladies.

Hey Valarnet, didja miss me?

You didn't even notice I was gone, did you? Thanks. No, really that means a lot.

I guess I got a few things to say here about what I've been up to in my absence.

Some of it I've probably already said, but I'm on quite a bit of valium right now so everything is comfy cozy and you'll have to bear with me.

• Got my ass married.
  
• Surprise.
  
• Quit drinking (I know I talked about that. I remember talking about that. Right? Right.)
  
• Had a seizure and ended up in the hospital under observation for a week while I detoxed.
  
• A certain angel of mine needs a medal of friggen' honor for not only going out and buying every single pokémon game while, in my even more drugged up stupor, I said I wanted to play pokémon (actually what I think I said was choose you Casicuno and I'M NOT ANY GOOD AT MARIO KART RIGHT NOW MY THUMBS DON'T WORK YOSHI GET IN THE DAMN BALL) and then bought another system so that he could play with me and I'm pretty sure thought about getting a friggen gameboy color just in case.
  
• He also gets medals for, I think, only leaving my room twice the whole friggen week and managing to combine his endearing, earnest powers with my giant fits of not being a very good person to be around to get me a single room after day one. Like, I'm 90% sure he used my hospital pretend shower thing and every time I woke up he was there and only once did he smuggle in pie for me. It was pie and pokémon. That was all he left for. That's how you know you have a keeper.
  
• Possibly no longer have a job because of being kind of unfit to work? I'm not sure. I really need to call and check on that.
  

And I'm back in my own bed now. Earlier was spent watching Shark Week on the good TV (instead of the hospital one, which true to his word, Cas reminded me of,) and now I'm just sort of staring at the laptop filling space when really I should be making out with my husband since I'm not all hooked up to IVs and the bed is a whole decent size and I can roll over.

Never take rolling over for granted.

Never.

Rolling over is amazing.

Cas is here.

Have I mentioned that I love Cas? Because I love Cas.

Oh, and that beautiful, wonderful bastard took my name. True friggen' love right there. Didn't even know he was going to do that until he'd already filled out the paperwork.

SAMMY! SAMMY! MEET MY HUSBAND! HE'S GORGEOUS AND MINE AND AMAZING AT THINGS LIKE BEING MINE. all mine.

Crap.

I need to stop typing. I'm going to go pass out on Cas now. Get him all in my arms and not let him go because I can. It's going to be the most painfully adorable thing you've never seen. Unless you're in our room. In which case, I'm gonna have to ask first why you're in our room and second, for you to leave. This is our room. There's another bed down the hall. Creeper.

I have no idea how I'm going to explain this to my employees. XD

I'm married.

I'm fucking married.

( Cut for mentions of alcohol abuse and attempted recovery. Also swearing. )

Well that dream was ... terribly depressing. Classic love story, though. Demon leaves hell because it's sick of all the endless murdering, borrows a girlsuit (shut up, Miles), falls in love with a boy who's nothing special except he's everything the demon isn't, Hell sends people to come collect said stray demon, human doesn't understand and thinks his best girl was taken to Hell for no reason, human uses demon's book of summoning to summon that exact demon, demon doesn't want human to be damned for loving it, demon tries to get human to think that girl is a badass killing machine, human endures, human orders demon for girl, demon puts girlsuit back on again and explains things and that it's not worth saving, human goes home and burns book.

Yeah. I tell the person I love that I'm not worth it and it should just go. Meanwhile, demon me is stuck with eternal torment and permanently broken legs. I have to crawl on my belly for all time. I'm sure there's a metaphor there.

Sorry for the rambling, all, I'm just ... I don't know. I woke up kind of upset because of it.

I literally don't bloody know how to handle this heat. It's fucking overwhelming is what it is.

He says, as he drinks his morning pot of coffee. At 1 PM.


You know what? Don't judge me, there's important and then there's important.

I should probably stop smoking.

It really is terrifying that we're over halfway through the year now. How is that even possible?

I feel like time speeds up expoentially after 35.

So Purgatory. It's a thing.

Me taking the next few days off of work? Yeah, that's a thing related to Purgatory being a thing.

I feel like I just got back from the sandbox all over again. Swear to god if I have to quit my job over this crap in my head...

I don't think I was ever prepared to have this much blood on my hands and now I can't get it off. I get that I did what I had to do, but I don't want to know what I did to end up there in the first place.

The really screwed up part is that I know hell is coming. At some point whatever this thing I am when I sleep is, the one who ends up with hand prints branded on his arm and fights his way for a year in that place...he goes to hell.

I need some really good reasons not to hop in my car and just drive as far away from everyone I care about as possible, because right now staying near anyone seems like the worst idea ever.

First things first: 1st Lieutenant Nicholas Wolfwood, U.S. Army, most recently of the 1st Armored Division. Just off the plane from Afghanistan, and I mean I landed an hour ago, so I'm jet-lagged to hell.

Second ... can someone maybe tell me what the everloving fuck happened to Vegas?!

"Sense is not made, but taken by cats from the breath of babies."

So Cleverbot is hilarious. Can't remember how I found it, but I'm glad I did.

Getting' real sick of these mind screwing moments. Real, real sick.

Pretty sure right now is a great time to go get as drunk as possible. Anyone with me?

Starting to think this city should have just come with a warning sign. "FUCKING BOLLOCKS AND SHIT: DON'T ENTER."

It's bad enough to be lectured about smoking by trees, but what the bloody fuck is this shit, now? Excuse me while I stay in my flat and try finding the bottom of this bottle.

So this morning, my cat woke me up in a manner I'm sure most cat owners are familiar with. She swat at my face until I opened my eyes. At which point she proceeded to inform me that she would very much like to finish the book that we were reading last night after we have breakfast.

And so I started this morning with a few strong drinks. Unfortunately, the problem doesn't seem to be fixing itself.

I have officially had it with my dreams.

I wore my crazy dream-aunt's skin to fool a demon and make out with him long enough to kill him. Seriously. Head to toe wearing someone's entire body skin and it was gross and goopy and did I mention giving a demon tongue?

Good day sirs and gentlewomen. I'm Howard Moon. Not to toot my own horn during an introduction, but I'm a bit of a renaissance man. Creativity oozes out of all of my pores. I'm an actor of the stage, photographer, zookeeper, merchant of fine collectibles, poet, novelist, and a multi-instrumentalist.

I've come to feast my mind upon this network like a stalking animal, hungry to devour your words and comments with my eyeballs. Speaking of eyeballs, allow me to unveil my latest in my trademark gritty beatnik haiku:

( mun note - this is haiku? more like hi?EWW. tw for crap poetry. )

I'm eager to meet other intellectuals and artistes in the area. What's one do for a bit of enlightened fun?

Well hello there, social forum of the internet. I have been told of you by one or two of my intelligent students and informed that I might find you interesting. So I decided, why not? I shall give it a shot and see how it goes. At the very least I might stay in touch with those few students who shared you with me and decide whether or not I should fail them next year for doing so.

My name is Daniel Murphy, and I will answer to either. I am a professor of Literature at one of your fine, American universities. Until last year I spent the last eleven years traveling the world and studying the stories of each culture I encountered. Now I get to try and share that interest and knowledge with the minds of our youth, which is no small feat.

I suppose that's enough information for the moment. I'm sure it will be a pleasure meeting you all.

Someone once told me it's creepy to lurk here but never post, so in the interest of not being a "troll"...here goes.

Hi, I'm Ben. I'm a taxi driver. I spend my free time volunteering at the community center, and looking after my foster-family. I'm really very boring.

Just one more year now. 363 days.

So, last week my girlfriend still get excited saying that had a dream about all of our friends going camping, except they weren't really us. I was some burnout stoner and Jules was a blonde. Holden and Curt were pretty much the same... I guess. Anyway, it was the exact same dream that she had, right down to the dialogue. Mine went on a little further, we were on the road towards the cabin Curt's cousin had rented. Except Curt's cousin is like, seven or something. So that was weird too.

Anyway, I guess my point is: does that happen a lot? Do people have matching dreams?