I have never seen a CHUD*
Aug. 28th, 2004 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
angelchickenI felt I should get that out there.
Am now in Brooklyn. In my tiny, tiny room. With a cable modem. And cable television. It is good. Also? I found a lamp with a clamp (a clamp lamp?) so I can clamp it to the shelf above my bed and have it to read by instead of the hard and annoying overhead light or the lamp that is ill-positioned for reading (But AC, why don't you just move the lamp? See above re: tiny, tiny room).
Have much to talk about. Like reflecting on outrunning weather. Seeing![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sodanyc on the subway at 6:45 on Friday morning less than a week after I move to Brooklyn (which was a delight, but also the most random of random things. My brain could not compute the odds of that happening which, it turns out, are pretty good) (And she is just as adorable as I remember). My slow quantity decline at work. Gem Ident. Much in the way of moving and new apartment frustration (Like the NO HOT WATER FOR TWO DAYS IN THE MIDDLE OF an admittedly cool but that's not the point AUGUST!
While waiting for my furniture/clothes/general life necessities to arrive on Sunday (why yes, I did move on Saturday) I felt the need to express myself, so I wrote a little ditty about the horrors of moving. It is, of course, Buffy related.
Title: Moving Sucks (eloquent, no?)
Author: Duh
Pairing:S/X
Rating: PG. I don't even think there's a swear. Must see psychiatrist. That seems really wrong.
Spoilers: nada
Summery: Xander is moving. A dialogue.
A/N: Written in about 20 minutes while sitting on the floor of my bare apartment. Ahhh, those were the days. Name has been changed to protect the innocent who happened to be smoking up in the cab of the truck at two in the afternoon after moving all my stuff in. So lets just say innocent in theory and be done with it.
“It’s me.”
“Yeah, that must be it.”
“You’re not hearing me, Spike. Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Obviously this is the Curse of the Harris. If something can go wrong, it will.”
“So, what you’re saying is that the truck, one that you have never seen before today, mind, decided to die, right as we were about to move out, because of your existence.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“This may shock you, but yes.”
“What do you know?”
“Life can’t be all a curse. Have me, after all.”
“At the moment, that doesn’t help.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Spike, but I’m wallowing in the Curse. Deal.”
“If that’s how you feel, maybe I’ll just leave.”
“You can’t leave! You’re the only thing I’ve got.”
“Your mind is a frightening place.”
“Maybe it’s a Nuisance Demon? Those exist, right?”
“Yes, but that’s not it.”
“And how do you know? Are you suddenly an expert on all things demon?”
“No sudden about it. Besides, already thought of that. Checked the engine when they had the hood up. It’s clean.”
“Hey! That’s right! You’ve got the mad motor skills! Fix it!”
“Tried. But they keep insisting it’s the battery. Stupid gits.”
“Well, maybe it is the battery. What do you know?”
“Love, when the engine runs, the lights go on, and the door makes that annoying beep when left open, it means there’s juice. Problem is, something’s not catching. My guess? The alternator.”
“Don’t you think maybe you should tell them that?”
“Tried. But the ass on the other end of the line keeps insisting it’s the battery. Apparently won’t take no for an answer.”
“This sucks.”
“Could be worse.”
“How, exactly?”
“Could be raining.”
“He says in direct defiance of the black clouds hovering just over head.”
“ ‘Sides, you still have me.”
“Right, right. Whatever.”
“You know, your not endearing yourself to me, I’ll have you know.”
“I’ll make it up to you later. Right now I am steeped in a mire of illogic. Live with it.”
“I don’t-“
“Shut up. Why can’t you fix it again?”
“Because the guy on the other end is a git. *sigh* If it makes you feel any better that guy Luis was checking you out.”
“Really? Me? I mean, with you here?”
“Really.”
“You are so full of it. If he was you would have ripped his head off.”
“Still want to, but won’t as it’ll make the move slower.”
“Think I should give him my number?”
“Do it and I’ll rip *your* head off.”
“I love it when you sweet talk me.”
“Look, love, this is probably going to be a while. Why don’t we just go to the house and wait for them there. Worst case, I’m sure Red can put us up for the night.”
“But all my stuff is in the truck.”
“And where exactly would it go? Your stuff is nice and all, but it really won’t fetch a lot on the street.”
“But what if it’s towed? I mean, it’s blocking the lot! Which, why when the asshole neighbor insisted they move the truck was it moveable, but now with the stuff packed and everyone ready to go is it dead?”
“One of the great mysteries of the world.”
“I think I already mentioned that the sarcasm was *not* appreciated.”
“Whatever was I thinking.”
“Do you think . . .”
“Do I think what? Stop looking at me like that.”
“You’re strong, what with the preternatural strength and all.”
“No.”
“I could probably work out some kind of harness.”
“No.”
“Get a fishing rod. Dangle a blood packet just out of reach . . .”
“You’re not funny.”
“Or maybe a bottle of JD.”
“Slayer’s just as strong. And you wouldn’t even need food. Just an advert for a shoe sale.”
“Damn it! I just want my stuff to be there! Why did we hire movers again? When I have super strong and/or magical friends?”
“Er. . . it was easier.”
“Shut up.”
“Right. This is getting old. Let’s go call Red.”
“Luis was really checking me out?”
~fin~
CHUD=Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller. In case you were curious
Am now in Brooklyn. In my tiny, tiny room. With a cable modem. And cable television. It is good. Also? I found a lamp with a clamp (a clamp lamp?) so I can clamp it to the shelf above my bed and have it to read by instead of the hard and annoying overhead light or the lamp that is ill-positioned for reading (But AC, why don't you just move the lamp? See above re: tiny, tiny room).
Have much to talk about. Like reflecting on outrunning weather. Seeing
sodanyc on the subway at 6:45 on Friday morning less than a week after I move to Brooklyn (which was a delight, but also the most random of random things. My brain could not compute the odds of that happening which, it turns out, are pretty good) (And she is just as adorable as I remember). My slow quantity decline at work. Gem Ident. Much in the way of moving and new apartment frustration (Like the NO HOT WATER FOR TWO DAYS IN THE MIDDLE OF an admittedly cool but that's not the point AUGUST!While waiting for my furniture/clothes/general life necessities to arrive on Sunday (why yes, I did move on Saturday) I felt the need to express myself, so I wrote a little ditty about the horrors of moving. It is, of course, Buffy related.
Title: Moving Sucks (eloquent, no?)
Author: Duh
Pairing:S/X
Rating: PG. I don't even think there's a swear. Must see psychiatrist. That seems really wrong.
Spoilers: nada
Summery: Xander is moving. A dialogue.
A/N: Written in about 20 minutes while sitting on the floor of my bare apartment. Ahhh, those were the days. Name has been changed to protect the innocent who happened to be smoking up in the cab of the truck at two in the afternoon after moving all my stuff in. So lets just say innocent in theory and be done with it.
“It’s me.”
“Yeah, that must be it.”
“You’re not hearing me, Spike. Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Obviously this is the Curse of the Harris. If something can go wrong, it will.”
“So, what you’re saying is that the truck, one that you have never seen before today, mind, decided to die, right as we were about to move out, because of your existence.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“This may shock you, but yes.”
“What do you know?”
“Life can’t be all a curse. Have me, after all.”
“At the moment, that doesn’t help.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Spike, but I’m wallowing in the Curse. Deal.”
“If that’s how you feel, maybe I’ll just leave.”
“You can’t leave! You’re the only thing I’ve got.”
“Your mind is a frightening place.”
“Maybe it’s a Nuisance Demon? Those exist, right?”
“Yes, but that’s not it.”
“And how do you know? Are you suddenly an expert on all things demon?”
“No sudden about it. Besides, already thought of that. Checked the engine when they had the hood up. It’s clean.”
“Hey! That’s right! You’ve got the mad motor skills! Fix it!”
“Tried. But they keep insisting it’s the battery. Stupid gits.”
“Well, maybe it is the battery. What do you know?”
“Love, when the engine runs, the lights go on, and the door makes that annoying beep when left open, it means there’s juice. Problem is, something’s not catching. My guess? The alternator.”
“Don’t you think maybe you should tell them that?”
“Tried. But the ass on the other end of the line keeps insisting it’s the battery. Apparently won’t take no for an answer.”
“This sucks.”
“Could be worse.”
“How, exactly?”
“Could be raining.”
“He says in direct defiance of the black clouds hovering just over head.”
“ ‘Sides, you still have me.”
“Right, right. Whatever.”
“You know, your not endearing yourself to me, I’ll have you know.”
“I’ll make it up to you later. Right now I am steeped in a mire of illogic. Live with it.”
“I don’t-“
“Shut up. Why can’t you fix it again?”
“Because the guy on the other end is a git. *sigh* If it makes you feel any better that guy Luis was checking you out.”
“Really? Me? I mean, with you here?”
“Really.”
“You are so full of it. If he was you would have ripped his head off.”
“Still want to, but won’t as it’ll make the move slower.”
“Think I should give him my number?”
“Do it and I’ll rip *your* head off.”
“I love it when you sweet talk me.”
“Look, love, this is probably going to be a while. Why don’t we just go to the house and wait for them there. Worst case, I’m sure Red can put us up for the night.”
“But all my stuff is in the truck.”
“And where exactly would it go? Your stuff is nice and all, but it really won’t fetch a lot on the street.”
“But what if it’s towed? I mean, it’s blocking the lot! Which, why when the asshole neighbor insisted they move the truck was it moveable, but now with the stuff packed and everyone ready to go is it dead?”
“One of the great mysteries of the world.”
“I think I already mentioned that the sarcasm was *not* appreciated.”
“Whatever was I thinking.”
“Do you think . . .”
“Do I think what? Stop looking at me like that.”
“You’re strong, what with the preternatural strength and all.”
“No.”
“I could probably work out some kind of harness.”
“No.”
“Get a fishing rod. Dangle a blood packet just out of reach . . .”
“You’re not funny.”
“Or maybe a bottle of JD.”
“Slayer’s just as strong. And you wouldn’t even need food. Just an advert for a shoe sale.”
“Damn it! I just want my stuff to be there! Why did we hire movers again? When I have super strong and/or magical friends?”
“Er. . . it was easier.”
“Shut up.”
“Right. This is getting old. Let’s go call Red.”
“Luis was really checking me out?”
~fin~
CHUD=Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller. In case you were curious
