Listen, self. I know your friend is now dating that guy you fancied. I know that *you* wanted him. But the fact remains that he was just not that into YOU. So self, get the fuck over it and be supportive, mmkay? I know it sucks when you have to give her relationship advice even though YOU are the one left swinging ass in the wind by your lonesome while said friend has two boyfriends. But, even if he was with you he'd still be macking on *her* behind your back probably.

Leave well enough alone Self. Be happy that your friend is happy and rock what you already have. This is a message from that part of your brain that HAS in fact, left junior high.


Love,


Me Myself and I.

Title: Nothing Gold
Author: Crown_of_ice
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: K/S


( On to the fic! )

Will be MIA for a while. Life is...hard right now. Need some time away. Gonna be a bit before I'm back online. Hopefully I'll feel better.

I think I may possibly be loosing my mind, or maybe finding it. I'm not entirely sure which. Because I find myself existing in a strange, foggy haze of industriousness and lack of creativity which is utterly unlike myself. I'm listless. depressed, but I'll clean like a motherfucker. My house is nice and neat for the first time in my life, my laundry is in shelves, and folded.


I have couch cushions, in my actual couches, and my trash is taken out on time, not just wheneverthefuck I get around to it. But I'm *drugged* Y'all, three hundred mlg's of lithium twice a day, three doses of Klonopin some zoloft for a kicker and a side of topamax twice a day. I am drugged to the fucking GILLS and I have no idea if this is how normal people function....or if this is just hell, or...somewhere in between because I dunno whether to love it because I get things done or hate it because...Me, the me that I've always been is dying by screaming, helpless inches.

I'm sorta lost. And scared. I've been mentally ill all my life and none of my meds ever touched it, but this stuff seems to be working, and...this is who I'm left with. I don't like her very much.

Okay...Okay. I know that pretty much everyone on my friendslist has been squeeing about Torchwood. I know this. BUT WHY IN THE LOVE OF GOD did no one tell me that James Marsters, also known as Spike sucks face with a man in this show? WHY? I would have been watching LONG BEFORE THIS MKAY.


Someone should have let a girl know, because clearly I have been MISSING this show. So, now I need to watch it, because..I must. When a fandom so blatantly *GIVES ME WHAT I WANT* in canon, who am I to turn up my nose and say nay? So. Torchwooding I shall go.


Golly Jeepers!

Well. Today has just been a shiny wonderland of suck. There is *nothing* to do. Nada, zilch...nothing. I'm so bored my teeth hurt and NO ONE IS ONLINE. WTF Internetz. I've been reading fanfic for most of the day, but have YET to find something I have not read before and while good, old favorites do indeed, get old.


My dog is even snoring in a heap beside my leg, that's how boring this fucking day is. Snowy, full of yuck and boring. Even my music is boring because my Ipod got bloody stolen and all my tunes were on it damnit. Maybe I should just go back to bed. It would take one more cranky wanky bitch out of the internet equation for the day.

...Edit. I spoke too soon.

Shortly after posting this, some twatwad IM'ed me to inform me that they were afraid of their own shadow and to inquire about conquoring that fear.

Dood, I hate to tell you but the Internetz may not be able to tell you that one. Hie thee to a psychologist, and quick!



God this day just keeps sucking harder.

So. I work at a pet shop. I will not name it, for there lies the path to legal woes and first amendment conflict, but suffice to say it is Large, and has Puppies. I spend my days, ferrying puppies to people who want to hold them, and trying desperately to convince them that dropping two grand on a howling ball of poop is a dandy idea. I shall pause for the stunned horror to really set in. Ok, good now?


Sometimes it even works. Trust me, no one is more surprised by that than me. It's a good job, and I like it. But there are woes. Many woes. Such as, I never knew before I worked there that in the dark of night, while the humans have staggered home to wash the scent of poop and desperation from their skin; hamsters will eat each others brains. I arrive every morning to open and without fail, in the hamster cage there will be one or two dead hamsters, brains eaten sometimes gutted, but always very dead and surrounded by their feeding brethern.

Only the normal teddy bear hamsters do this. The Panda's and the Black Bears and the dwarves do not eat one another like furry little zombies. I hate them. I hate cleaning their cage and doing pretty much anything for them. Yet that pales in comparison to the Stupid perpetrated by the customers. We have birds, many kinds, we even have large birds, one in particular being my buddy; Monster the Blue and Gold Macaw. Now, on the cages, there are signs. They clearly say, Do Not Touch The Birds. Yet, people ignore them. Every day they do stupid things, especially the ones with kids. Like the stupid twat who lifted up her 4 ish or so year old kid so she could stick her hand DOWN INTO Monster's cage.

Let me take a moment to inform you that a mature Macaw can sever a human finger with the ease with which *we* chew a banana. It isn't an effort, they don't have to try hard. All it takes is one pissy mood and pow, you just lost a finger. That said, Monster is very good natured. He is for sale after all, and on the floor. He likes being handled and held, but he is a pushy blue bastard and if you let him he will try and make you his hairless pink bitch. Now, this woman knows nothing about Monster, but she sticks her kid's hand into his cage as if she thinks he's a puppy, and Monster, being Monster, does what he does.

He climbs this little girl like a tree and wigs her mother the fuck out because he starts cawing loudly in avian victory at the triumph of scaling Mount Toddler. Now, amusing as all this is, when customers wig, they usually end up hurting the animals, so, swoop down like an avenging angle and in three secconds I have daringly removed monster from the woman's child and replaced him in his cage whre he may sulk and bite my fingers to his heart's content. I *know* what I'm risking, yet I do not mind letting him play with my fingers with his beak as long as he is gentl and he is, very delicate and gentle.

Now, Mother starts flipping out on me, not because we have a very socially agressive bird, but because, wait for it. I took the bird away without asking.


W
T
F?


I politely explain to her that large birds are not best handled by small children who are easily frightened. They sense that fear, and it frightens THEM, or makes them agressive, and an agressive or frightened bird is a bird that will bite. I then inform her of the neat finger removing abillities that i mentioned above, and point out the Do Not Touch The Birds sign on Monsters cage. This enrages her even more, and her daughter starts sobbing. I stand still and unmoved by her tantrum. I have seen them before, but usually from six year olds who's Daddy won't buy them the pretty puppy. My manager, G. arrives on the scene and gets the story from her. I say nothing, and wait for him to sort though her bullshit to the truth, which he is unerringly good at. Then, he tells her she needs to leave and not come back. Because she obviously doesn't know how to conduct herself in a place of buisness. Or with other people's property.


I nearly creamed my panties RIGHT there. I love a manager who can tell a customer to STFU and not get sued. he looks at me after they leave and asks me what really happened. I tell him my version and he snorts and praises me for my quickness and bravery in handling the bigf bird, who even the long timers can be leery of.


Word to the wise, do NOT stick your hand into a Big Blue Bird's cage wiuthout asking his keepers if this is a good idea. No matter how cute he looks, pulping that toy to bits, he could have just as much fun with a finger; it has more nutrient value.


Ta for now.

Rapture. I have fallen into fandom again with the flailing joy of a sixth grade girl on her first binge of puppylove. The scars left by HP fen in my youth it appears have at last faded. So, my current obsessive Fandom Love is Supernatural; 'cause Winchesters? are made of hot.

Aside from fandom love, life has been meandering on as per usual. Still working on the Fic That Will Not Die and spending far too much time driving for my own good. I think too many years of being leashed to everyone elses schedual but my own have made me petulent and jealous of my newfound freedom. I get in my car at 3 am and just drive, for no other reason than that I *CAN*. It feels good, cranking my stereo and just...going wherever it is inclination takes me.


besides that. Uhm. Help me hatch my Dwagons? Pwaeas? just click the eggs to make them hatch the more clicks, the better my chances. They were abandoned eggs, so not so good anyway...so, help?

You absolute scumsucking whore. You have the fucking *nerve* to call me, while fucking the man you STOLE from me, while we were friends, to tell me that "You don't need to pretend to be my friend anymore because you got you a GOOD man now. "


You fucking bitch. He was mine first, for three months he was mine and I was happy until I introduced you two. Then suddenly he stops calling me. Won't answer *MY* calls. What . The . Fuck. You, in the guise of friendship, seduced my guy...dumped me as a friend and then you call me while you fuck the man I was actually starting to give a shit about to tell me that you're engaged?


You dirty, skanklicking slut. I hope you get syphilis, go insane and die alone.

I eat meat, lots of it. I have raised a piglet and then shot it in the head and smoked it, and eaten that too. I like leather, I have three leather jackets. I like fur too. My grandmother's fox coat that she left me when she died is one of my favorite posessions.

....and yet, I own two cats, who are babied beyond all reasonable belief. I believe in the welfare of animals and decent treatment for food animals, mainly because sad cows make ucky burgers. Yet, I still believe that a rat is still just a bloody rat. A chicken? is for eating. A cow? is burgers on the hoof and my favorite cut of steak. I am an omnivore, I enjoy being an omnivore. I also hunt every deer, turkey and squirrel season. I eat what I kill then too.

Now. Consider. A flobber worm is a magical creature ( that does not exist)....that is a worm. People fish with worms. In my school, we used to keep worms in a terrarium, until some bright soul moved the stupid thing into the sun and poured pepsi into it, because the worms were thirsty. Somehow I think being lettuced to death is a kinder, gentler way to go than drowning in carbonated beverage. Yet, no one called the stupid kid ZOMG CRUEL for making a mistake.

It was just a worm. Accidents happen. Now.

The holier-than-thou ire of certain wankers who shall remain pointedly nameless ( You know who you are, shame on you!) should pause a moment, and consider. You are wanking, about magic that does not exist. In a world that does not exist. About an issue....that does not exist. No one is going to read HP and go "Gee! I want to hurt an animal RIGHT NOW." Frankly the idea of turning *people* into inanimate objects will be much more entertaining. I've never met an animal i wanted to turn into a toilet...but I have certainly met some people who are loo-worthy.


Dudes, chill. Sometimes a cigar really is JUST a cigar.