Send help. Beer. DOTs. Whatever.

critus got geek on my goth (or I got goth on his geek).

etcet: WOE
critus: angst agony!
etcet: joey lawrence, closet emo kid.
etcet: more ankhs...
etcet: ... stop ankhs.
etcet: azrael, move to the basement.
etcet: belial, move to the basement.
etcet: lucretia, move to the basement.
etcet: DON'T MOPE CLOSE TOGETHER
critus: That's a FUCKING 50 Projekt CD compliation minus!
etcet: if you knew what the FUCK you were doing, there is no FUCKING way they would play headhunter.
critus: we need help, yo
etcet: wHelp?
etcet: MALFOOOOOOOOOY JENKINS!

Nights in WTF, Satin?

Uncertain provenance or causality, but this week has been filled with vivid, semi-lucid, and utterly random nocturnal meanderings.

Tuesday, it was a cross between a dire wolf and a cougar, made of essentially pure evil, underneath my porch/house, menacing the stray cats, our cats, and me & K.... until K trapped its energy as a green glow inside a rounded convex lucite-like triangle and dumped it out of an airlock in something strongly reminiscent of either a Star Destroyer or a Quake/Unreal Tournament FFA map (I think it's a Q3 addon map, it seemed familiar). Undaunted by being dropped into the nearest star, the glow returned (not green any longer, but a livid fuscia), but couldn't get through the small portal in the airlock.

Wednesday eludes me at the moment, but I know they were there.

Last night was spent discovering that jaylake submits some of his prolific writing under the guise of a 68 year-old shut-in (he does a passable old codger voice for phone conversations), and has a house editor/agent (possibly matociquala, that's who it felt like, anyway) who -also- uses a nom de plume when acting in her agently capacity. . . we adjourned for dinner, whereupon I had to prevent a somewhat intoxicated analmuch from flirting with a fiftyish police officer, and mighty_man chided me for being surprised that the three-level crosstown expressway (felt like we were in seattle, but it didn't look like it) would be in near-gridlock at 11:04pm, at which point, we adjourned to what was being marketed as a tony new townhouse development... the exterior decorated to look like a Chili's restaurant motif... the inside was very spacious, and we tried to bounce on the floors, despite some wet blanket telling us that they were actually made of poured and finished concrete (at which point, the floor became noticeably less resilient and springy).


And people wonder why I don't bother trying to use online dream analysis tools....

fridayfiver

1. When is the last time you dressed inappropriately for a situation?
There was some noise made that I was unrepentantly and unremittingly straight and male based on an outfit I wore at Dragon*Con (blue NPC t-shirt, camo Utilikilt, lowcut workout socks, and sneakers... while surrounded by cosplay folks, fetish attire, and the whole nine yards).

2. How many friends do you have?
I have many hundreds of acquaintences, a couple of dozen folks I go out of my way to keep in touch with, and maybe a double handful of folks for whom I'd drop whatever I'm doing to help bury a body.

3. Are you running on time today?
I was a couple minutes late getting to work, not to the detriment of anything.

4. Do you use bleach on your laundry?
The fact that the bulk of what clothing I own is black contraindicates this practice. However, socks and underwear usually get the detergent-with-bleach stuff.

5. What are your thoughts on guns?
You must be new. I've never been strongly anti-gun, and am increasingly looking at gun ownership as a real possibility for the protection of my preferred companion and our possessions.