Hi, my name is [deleted] and I'm a big fat moron. I've decided to make myself the Martyr of the Day. I'm going to paint a picture in which there is no possible way to perceive me as anything but the wronged party, and ask for opinions from people who weren't involved. I wonder who they'll side with?

What an idiot.

I spent five hours cooking today. I made the World's Best Thanksgiving dinner. I am now sitting in my chair, fat and bloated, awaiting Sainthood.

Oh, also: we watched the animated Lord of the Rings. If Ralph Bakshi were still alive, I'd have a thing or two to tell him about making a decent movie. Maybe I shall, in a later entry. Right now, I am trying to will myself to have enough room for one more slice of pie.

This morning on the way to work (or it might have been yesterday morning - they all lump together in my mind) I saw a van for a company with the most offensive name I have ever seen: SIDS Air Conditioning. SIDS! What were they thinking?

This afternoon on the way home I saw a van with the best company name/logo EVER: TNT Electric. "Let us look into your shorts."

So now I'm home, and Will is braving day-before-Thanksgiving shoppers to pick up wine and butter (and anything else he wants) while I lazily troll the internet. He's the best. I'm so incredibly happy, because I get five whole days with him and neither of us has to go anywhere. I mean, we have a lunch date on Friday, and we might go down to Huntington Beach on Saturday to see Cassie, and I think we have plans on Sunday, but we'll be together the whole time.

*sigh*

Presents!

Will came home from work today with six books. Hobbit books. Yippee!

Somebody loves me!

Oxygen-activated heat pads that adhere to my panties! No more mind-numbing menstrual cramps! [/TMI]

*sigh* I'm in heaven. Life is wonderful.

So we started our Christmas shopping today. We bought...cards. And one book. Oh! And a CD of an old radio version of A Christmas Carol with Orson Wells. That was for us. We also looked around World Market and I showed Will everything I want.

Then I took Will to The Buzz Stop and London (that is so not his real name) chemically straightened his hair. Straightened it! Poor Will. All of his friends are going to call him a girl now. It looks lovely, though. It's still kind of wavy, but my goodness! What a difference. I can run my fingers through it without getting stuck.

When we got home, we went to Amazon to look for all the stuff we couldn't find at the bookstore. Of course, they had it all. I love Amazon.

Then Will and Elliot had a bitchfight on MSN. I saved the transcript, and will forward it to the person with the best bribe. It's hilarious!

In other news, I am still desperately in love with Sean Bean. I have come to terms with our love never leaving my living room, as I have no intention of ever getting involved with a man who's been divorced more than twice. (Bruce Campbell, that makes you eligible!) Damn it to hell. Oh well - 25 days until The Two Towers, which, while notably devoid of Boromir, ought to have some nice gay hobbits.

Elliot says:
Anyway, I gotta be off. Babies to drown and all that.
bettie says:
Yay! Drown a few for me, will you?
Elliot says:
Sure. I'll even shout out your name as I do!
Elliot says:
See you later!
bettie says:
That's fabulously gross!
Annika says:
Bye!

Sasami says:
Spielberg cut you off in traffic?
bettie says:
No. I sped up and wouldn't let him into my lane.
bettie says:
That'll teach him to fuck with E.T.
Sasami says:
Way to go!

Man, my head hurts.

I'm just glad some people can distinguish between bettie-me and mod-me.

Though really, both of us can put the hurt on you. It just happens in different ways. So watch your backs. Benevolent, my ASS.

Which Dita Von Teese Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

My god, it's like a disease! I swear, I think about things other than the Watcher's Diary. Occasionally, I worry about Profile Request.

No! I mean, I have a life. I don't spend all of my time away from the computer thinking about it. Honest!

The good news:

The bile has dissipated.

The bad news:

There is no one I can ban.

The ugly news:

I am one infraction away from warning someone. Wheeee!

Why is it that when I have the ability to go on a mad crazy power trip, I can't remember who I wanted to ban?

Stupid memory.

Note to self: get this bile out of your system before you turn green.

Damn it.

Have just discovered Sean Bean is 43 and 3 times divorced. This does not bode well for our future together. Age, of course, isn't a huge issue, though his daughters might not agree about that.

Darn. Must check into possible younger brothers who are decent with a sword (as that is one of his top selling points).

My head hurts. Too much staring at screens today.

I rewatched Him to synopsize (is that a word?) it for Buffyguide, then we watched the first half of The Fellowship of the Ring with director/writer commentary, and the second half (which I fell asleep during on Thursday) without.

I've never read the books. I have almost no idea what's going to happen. I am so excited.

Boromir only pretended to die, though, right? RIGHT? My god, he's delicious.

I'm really confused. Hence, this entry will probably be fairly confusing. This is my weblog, though, so I don't care.

I will not name names or specifics. This is partly because I don't think that would be fair to the parties involved, partly because too many people already are involved who shouldn't be, and partly because there is a lot of misinformation going around, and I may be guilty of believing some of it. It is also because I can do whatever I want, and I don't want to name names. This is about my feelings and nothing else.

My inclination is to simply say, "Stop. Just stop." I'd like to leave it at that. But that is neither realistic nor a complete expression of what I want.

So, to expand a bit: Could everyone just step back for a minute? Think. No, really think. Are you hurting anyone? Are you doing so in a way that is unnecessary? Stop. No, don't do anything detrimental to your own happiness in order to avoid hurting other people. Just think. Use reason - reason! - to determine what secrets should be kept. Use common sense. And for god's sake, if you fucked up, apologize.

I've said before that I don't want to be put in the middle. This is still true. However, sometimes it is inevitable. If I am automatically in the middle (i.e. two of my friends decide not to be friends with each other) don't avoid me and keep me in the dark about it. I'm already in the middle, I should at least know what's going on. I'm not one to judge my friends, but it's awfully helpful to have a fucking clue what's going on so that I don't put my foot in my mouth. I'm not terribly flexible. [tongue]

Moreover, I'm sick of my feelings being spared. It just gives me a feeling of doom - one of these days, these people will treat me like shit and I will have had no warning. Except, you know, my paranoia/intuition. I'm not a mindreader, so I tend to assume paranoia until it's too late.

Everyone, stop being selfish. That's less of a non-sequitur than I'd like it to be.

********

Changing the subject: We got the extended DVD of The Fellowship of the Ring yesterday. Yay!!!

Dear Beth,

I love you.

That's it.

Dear Wes Anderson,

I'm sure that Noah Bambaugh is a very nice man, and that he greatly appreciates the fact that you're producing his movie. However, if you don't make another movie of your own soon, I will die.

Yours,
Desperate

The following is, I believe, the thought process a normal person would have. Let it be noted that I am not a normal person.

1. Normal person (NP) gains weight. Say, 15 pounds or so. NP's pants do not fit.
   
2. NP's boyfriend is bigger than NP. NP's boyfriend's pants were, in the past, absurdly large for NP.
   
3. NP realizes that it would be fairly logical to try boyfriend's pants on and see how they fit now.
   

I've been heavier for months, I only tried Will's pants on today when I was headed to the store and realized that my pants (the only ones that fit) had no pockets.

D'oh!

Note to self: Purchase umbrella, golashes, mittens, scarf, and earmuffs.

It never rains or is freezing in Los Angeles, my ass.

bettie says:
You know what pisses me off?
Tina says:
what?
bettie says:
My own pet peeves.
Tina says:
well, yeah, that would do it
bettie says:
I ran to the bathroom just now, to pee. I didn't bother turning on the light, because I'm fairly comfortable with the layout of the room. I used the last of the toilet paper. I didn't want to replace the roll! But I had to, because if anyone else had left an empty roll, I'd have gotten peeved. So I had to change the roll in the dark.
Tina says:
how much stuff did you bump into?
bettie says:
Not much, but fumbling about under the sink for the package of toilet paper was a bit awkward in the dark.
Tina says:
I know what you mean
Tina says:
of course, it beats having to yell for someone to bring you another roll (or worse, there not being anyone home to bring you another roll)

Several very important orders of business:

P@, your comments were being standoffish. What I was going to say is this: Don't worry, Del and mUrt only tried to axe-murder me the once. Otherwise, they're very nice and you'll be fine. CassyLee on the other hand...well, I'd better not say.

Stephanie, your comments were behaving themselves just fine.

Jennifer, you are a whore.

WDers, every one: I'm writing a new post. It ought to be ready by 2003. It will be the ultimate.

I had bad milk in my coffee this morning. I think this entitles me to a present. Any suggestions?

I think that covers it for now. Sorry I've been so bad about updates.

MONKEY!

Dear Christine,

You're gorgeous and I love you. Will you marry me?

love,
Pie

Things to do on Buffyguide when you're bored

Read posts

Find posts by newly-registered members

Analyze said posts for familiar grammar and spelling errors

Alert the moderators to returning banned members and/or Bad People

Dance in my own honor and pat myself on the back

finis (I need a life.)

Dear Yahoo,

Geocities really, really sucks.

LET ME UPDATE MY SITE! Why, oh why, do you torment me so? I just want to save the changes I make, just ONCE. This makes 4 times in a row that I've done work and been unable to make it, well, work.

Fuck you. And damn you to hell. And furthermore, a pox on your house and a curse on your children, your children's children, and - hey! Do you have children?

Crap.

test

My Inner Blonde is apparently Heather Graham...however, this frightens me.

Hence, pic and info (which were just a test in the first place) are hereby banished because et cetera. Off with her head!

Ever get the feeling you're insanely paranoid? Me too.

For the second time this month (well, technically not, since it's November now), someone has registered at the WD for the seemingly sole purpose of PMing me (me!) to ask an on-topic question.

I'm starting to think that it's the mods, fucking with me.

Will's boss: What are you supposed to be?
Will: Vince Vaughn.

This makes me laugh uncontrollably. Though I imagine it's funnier if you know what Will looked like at the time. Pretend, OK?

Note to self: Buy some film and a fucking flash for your camera. Preferably yesterday.

It was Halloween last night. I love Halloween. It seems like every year I love it more. I think this is due to Will's infectious enthusiasm.

Yesterday morning we got up at the crack of dawn (quarter to eight, actually), and Will showered. I opened the packages of the 'theatre' makeup I'd bought for 50 cents apiece at the drug store. He put on his (well rumpled) suit, and I chose a tie. By happy coincidence, it was a tie that Harriet had chewed the end of.

Will sat down on the kitchen stool (it's red! I love it) and I took my red lipliner and ran it over a flame. He looked frightened, moreso when I said, "Close your eyes." I lined his eyes very lightly with the red, then took black grease paint and lightly bruised the area around his eyes. After some deliberation, it was decided that this would include his eyelids. I should have mentioned that before I did this, I did his hair. I blowdried it, which made it really unmanageable. Perfect. I added some pomade, basically "trying" to style it like he usually does. Anyway, back to his face. He hadn't shaved in 2 days, so the streaky, light coating of white greasepaint had the exact effect I'd hoped for, and then some.

My boyfriend is* a zombie.

*was (he got better.)