Presents!

cinnamonteal is my best fiend in the whole world. No, that's not a typo.

In the box, neatly and separately gift-wrapped for my shredding pleasure:
Ten different kinds of tea (4 loose, 6 in a sampler pack of bags),
A wind-up pulsating brain,
A CD of cracked circus music (very reminiscent of Webley),
A black glass bird with a red berry in its beak to decorate my desk, and
A sword brooch from the Highland Games.

The bird is obviously a corvid, and reminds me of Sandman six ways from Sunday, right down to the Weaver Bird in Nada's story. It is exactly the desk decoration I've needed since people have expressed an attitude toward my leetle Sandman action figures and found feathers. (They find them creepy. Go fig.)

The sword is pinned right over my Cousinly little heart. Anyone who never watched Forever Knight, or never dug Lacroix, just never you mind.

Thanks, fiend.

I dreamed more!

I could make a habit of this. I remembered all kinds of symbolic details when I first woke up but they were gone by the time I stepped out of the shower.

All that's left is the discovery of a voodoo artifacts shop in my hometown... My first thought: "Isn't that kind of dangerous?" but then I saw the sign that said all the stuff had been inert for at least 10 years to the best of their knowledge.

It was actually more like a museum, and had been closed for some time since the owner had died. The owner's son let us in to look around, and it turned out the guy had been a bit of a Giles, more of a hands-on demonologist than he'd let on to his family.

So we ended up wandering through this place with no real proof that anything dangerous might be lurking there, but no real assurance that it wasn't, and in paranoid circumstances those nice open hallways with all the doorways and extra passages were CREEPY. You couldn't possibly watch your back well enough, and in this dream I was quite certain vampires could move very fast.

Think I might be freaked about the choices ahead of me? I am, indeed, feeling like I can't cover everything, can't watch all the exits.

That and my mom was finding the word "demonologist" funny yesterday, and I realized with a lurch that outside of Weekly World News (which she was reading) and Buffy, it's more of an armchair intellectual pastime than a career move.

Blat!

I mentioned the other day that random thoughts had been accumulating. All work-safe. ( Here they are. Fashion, Buffy Game, Office Supply Fetish, Metropolis. )

Coming soon, if I get around to it, a little rant about people who don't seem to get the principle behind having a standardized form to fill out.

Victor/Victoria!

Dear lord, but Julie Andrews is a sexy king. She's what I want to look like when I grow up. In pinstripes.

I'd settle for getting to take her home. Yum.

Just please don't make me choose between her and Johnny Depp. My head might explode. Perhaps if I put her in a pirate hat. Yes, that could work.

What am I talking about? They can share, right? Right?

I'm not sure I'd survive that, actually.