November 12th, 2006


Not your only friend; but I'm your little glowing friend

I'd hoped to be in and out of bleeding on things by 4. I was out at 4:15. I called Darkside the minute I got in the car outside the plasma place, with my happy no-hands setup. I queried if today would be a good day for Death Note at his place; he declined. I'd gone to the plasma place fully ready to head over to his place if that was what he so desired, as it's a bit in the right direction and why drive extra? So I went home, still chattering happily away with him. I mentioned that I was dying to chatter about the novel with him, but it is Romance, and he Does Not Do That. He said that if I tried, I might find that the phone had disconnected inexplicably. (Silly man. But it's all for the good because this novel, he probably Should Not Read.) He reports that he was too lazy to Google TFM on his DVD player, but did dig up the paper version, and the thing is now reset. He didn't get the text message about calling Dawn, but he did get the e-mail, though he'd already called her when he got that. There was silliness. I settled in on my bed for a nice warm chat when suddenly, unexpectedly, he said, "Oh, what the hell. Bring it over."

...He doesn't do that. When he's being antisocial, he doesn't just change his mind. Well, he does when I drop in on him, but he doesn't do it verbally like that. Unprecedented. Delightful.

I squeaked a bit, giggled a lot, obtained the most recent burn from hcolleen (and told her not to wait up!), and headed out. He extracted himself from the phone; total call time wound up being a half-hour, a little over. I drove and felt happy.

We settled in with Death Note. He thinks Light is an idiot. This is largely because he is a very moral man and his mind is also twistier than Light's, if that is possible. He also seems to be hooked. I asked if I'd corrupted him; he pointed out that he already likes anime in general; he was already pre-corrupted. Pizza made an appearance in the evening. He started us in on Witch-Hunter Robin. I have decided that one of these days I am going to try doing my hair like hers. He needs to regain self-esteem in the "I can recommend anime for the Lunatic" department.

He was a ghost for Halloween, and had this "werewolf man skull" that he brought to work and set on top of his box. He'd occasionally pick it up and do his version of Hamlet's speech. He showed me pictures of him in costume. OMG the man is HOT in dead-thing makeup. Not that I told him this.

His mom tried to come in and convince us to watch some movie or other that the grown-ups were watching out in the living room. Darkside shooed her out (we were focused on his screen and not looking away) and motioned for her to close the door already.

He rarely looks polished on the weekends, but today was a new personal record in scruffiness. It wasn't devastatingly attractive, but it was very cozy, given that I know that he'd be unwilling to appear at less than his best in front of someone he doesn't trust. We have also got to figure out better seating arrangements for movie-watching, as his neck does not like that position. I was very tempted to help him rub out the kinks, but I restrained myself.

There was some vestige of personal space this time. Upon my departure, he initiated the ritual hug. This time it was a full hug, winding up with my face in his shoulder as per the usual for those. I'd generally been keeping it to half-hugs, but I do so very much like the full hugs. Very, very much.
  • Current Mood
    happy happy
running, bomb tech

Things someone should write:

A blood donation purity test. Locality-specific and application-specific, of course, listing things that one may do (in general) and have blood that is still considered OK, and things that one may not do.

I have been known to consider things and then not do them based on "I cannot give blood if I ______ ."
running, bomb tech

Nano party notes.

The Eye of Sauron on the whipped cream.
Some very gothy character of someone else's. He's got an organ in his house. At least a piano. A baby grand. A harpsichord. A virginal! ...A bed set up like a confessional.
The "art" department looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.
Villains cannot have the time and attention or energy to treat every single random elf as if they are a credible threat. Therefore, they may wind up cutting corners and get themselves killed.
"I love you like the hard stuff we put in the ground." (Concretia.) (Apropos of Portia/Porsche, and Mercedes.)

Party called on account of a/c.