Places to Go
velena talks about Brian, Justin, and Ethan, which is highly thoughtful and really GOOD, and I'm organizing my thoughts, since I hate when people say smart things that I can't disagree with. Grr. 'Cause I can't, except with the oldest argument in the shipper book.
I'm OTP. And when I say this, I mean, I am OTP, keep it capitalized. So every time I argue, I already know I'm going to come out of it on the weak end. But I can deal with that. So I plan to use Big Words. Hear that, velena? Big, big, multisyllable words. Possibly foreign ones as well. I'm going to bond with the thesaurus. THEN we'll see. *looks determined*
Also, I'm going to have coffee.
*grins* She's SO cool. Go read.
Everyone is fleeing to http://www.greatestjournal.com. I, being a lemming, have an account there now. Because I was uploading stuff and had nothing else to do while it was uploading. However, I have an acount at Blurty, too, and that poor thing hasn't seen me in ages. I don't have a journalfen account, but that's because a.) I'd have to ask for codes and I freak out at the idea of asking anyone and b.) because I feel the need to be vaguely rebellious, but honestly, I have no idea what I was rebelling against.
Earlier today, I had to make a run to the store and okay, this is the stupidest thing ever, but it amused the hell out of me, since I'm still mulling the incomprehensibility of Underworld. IT all relates, trust me.
Before you go further, this is a vanity post, 'kay?
Anyway, for those who aren't playing the homegame, I started new antibiotics from Very Young Hot But Kinda Not Trusted Doctor and a steroid to clear up the sinus infection that Has Taken Over My Life. So okay, I feel drained, so I wore my drained at-home clothes. Grey shirt, flannel, jeans I had in high school, and these dear God are they horrifying black ankle boots. No socks, I couldn't be bothered to find any, even dirty ones. I was in the car almost to teh store when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I had this--thing in my hair, because I'd been cleaning my closet (thats' what you do when you feel like shit--write in the LJ and clean your shoes out) and I'd twisted my hair up in it. So okay, this realization that I didn't just look like shit--I actually personified the dictionary definition. Plus, I caught on to the fact my eyeliner that I'd thought I'd washed off last night hadn't washed off. And also, spit scrubbing only makes the problem more desperate.
I actually almost stopped the vehicle thinking, okay, how self-centered am I to want to *drive home* and *change clothes*, and *fix my hair* just so I can go to a convenience store to buy a soda and a lottery ticket? For those who know me, you think, ah, she turned around and went home.
Unfortunately, I was in view of the store in question, so I just went with it, thinking, it's Sunday, no one's there.
Right. Because it's Sunday, the entire SUNDAY SERVICE CONTIGENT was out in force. I mean, everyone in the finest of apparrel (and great shoes, and good hair, and gah) wandering around buying slurpees and I assume whatever snack food is appropriate following worship. Swarming, a great deal like killer bees, and I think I could have handled that, but then, of course, because this is how life is, several people I knew were wandering around outside with the slurpee and food item thing. And they looked very good, and I really didn't, and I'm shallow. I am so shallow.
Did I mention my jeans had a variety of unattractive stains, holes, and the shoes are really, really ugly?
Take two--turn around now.
I have only two actual modes of going anywhere--one, the sneak in approach. I stand near hte wall and sidle until I'm where I want to be, preferably in a shadowy area with a wall to my back, where I can slide in and out with none the wiser. The second requires alcohol or a really, really spectacularly good mood of not caring, which is, barreling in, and I was up for neither of these.
Years ago, in speech, we had those speech things, and all of us used to talk about the ways we dealt with stuff like that. You know--crowd naked, everyone is your parents, blah blah blah, cope cope cope. I've never had issues with public speaking (I'm aware how weird this is considering the above, but performances are a different kettle of fish than actual genuine interaction), so I zoned out on a lot, but while sitting in my vehicle, feeling like I could not face this, I thought--
Of mafia vampires. With the leather and the guns. And how pretty they were. And you see where this is going, right?
So I imagined, and I kid you not, that I had two of them that would shoot at anyone who looked at my shoes disparagingly. Not to mention my hair. Also, I made sure my glasses were clean. And I got my soda and got out. And also, wondered if I was sane.
But now I feel like seeing that movie was worth the money, because I now have my safety zone. I am followed by a pair of mafia vampires when I look bad, and they shoot at people who mock my shoes.
I'm supposed to be writing about Brian in pajamas and make my bank website come up so I can make a payment, but instead, I wrote this. Now I shall return to the pajama thing and the bank.
Mock at will.