People who make these quizzes are strange. It's like a car wreck. I just can't stop.

I am a sniper/professional killer.


Which cat that thinks it's human are you?
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"Why do I hate mummies?"

Subject line is another refernce to http://www.wigu.com If you don't read this excellent web comic yet, then you owe it to your self to check it out.

got home about an hour-and-a-half ago from Lesley's where I showed her how to read livejournals so now she will know my every thought. I wasn't even going to update now. I just got on to make sure that the entries containing all my explicit pornographic fantasies about her were deleted... Oh, hi Lesley! :) We also talked Type O Negative and ate shrimp. Life is not bad, although I'm sure the shrimp would disagree.

What is going on? In two weeks I have gone from being an isolated madman, locked in my dark room for days at a time, drinking absinthe and screaming my hatred and sorrow at some unidentified figment of my delusions known only as "she" to being the life of the party and the center of attention. This weekend I've got Anya, her sister and a friend of theirs crashing with me. Now today I learn that the following weekend will bless me with stichedsutures goodness all over my happy little heart and possibly some batchix and dayglowdave action on the side, providing they can get here or Amanda and I can get there, the former being more likely than the latter as My Dying Buick isn't exactly seaworthy for a trip to Manhattan at the moment. And between all that I've got my old college chum Kelly joining me for the Extol/Demon Hunter concert this Sunday and then I'm also expected at megiloth's cookout on the 6th. Plus there's the lingering issue of my father coming and going day in and day out as he hunts for work and a house.

In the words of King Theodrin "how did it come... to this?" I guess you should be careful what you wish for. I had grown to like being left alone, content with the fact I might die alone. Now it seems I shall be known more for my Great Gatsby-style Beautiful People parties than for my tragic, twisted, Vincent Van Gogh-style desolation and poignant artist's death. Soon, very soon, people in sleek clothing with overwrought Eurotrash accents will clink champaigne flutes together, their heads abuzz with cocaine and say of me over cocktail platters...

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*NOTE* The above dialogue will not make sense to anyone besides noerru so don't try too hard to figure it out. I should've hidden it behind a cut, so I did!

I don't know how to deal with this newfound popularity. It's... strange. I've always been a spoke of activity rather than the hub, a supporting character in my own life. But like all things, this too shall pass. I'll be whining again in another month, just you wait and see, as predictable and comforting as menstruation.

"I've got plans." The words feel strange in my mouth. They've a nice ring to them. Think I'll keep them around a while.