"You're so nice!"

Heather is back from vacation. She seems like an overall cool chica. She even has tattoos, so I'm greatly relieved that I'm not the only inked soul here at the Waystation.

So, a few minutes ago, I went to Brian's office and asked him if he'd take a call for Doug, whom I could not find. When I turned to go back to my desk, Heather said, "You are so nice!"

Taken aback, I said, "Me?"

"Yes! I called in a couple of times last week and you answered the phone. I asked Doug and Brian if you were just that nice and polite on the phone and they said you were like this all the time. That's so cool!"

I don't see myself as "nice." just business-minded. I was taken aback like whoa by her comments. I told her that she seemed awfully nice to me, so I didn't see how we were that different at all. She said she wasn't in too much of a habit of saying "please" and "thank you," that maybe it was just because she was from a younger generation.

So I'm an ancient, polite, nice person who is obviously easy to get along with. Have I lost my edge? Have I become a Jedi in the short period of time I was unemployed and genuinely happy? Am I only fit to make cuckoo clocks instead of prepping myself for my own personal renaissance? Ho hum.

Where Tin complains about the weather

Nine Inch Nails is perfect Summer music. You feel like you're listening to Hell's soundtrack and it just seems to fit perfectly with the South Carolina heat. The only difference is that I do not want to fuck anyone like an animal. I don't want that close to any-damned-body. Keep your animal fuckery away from me unless you're wearing an ice-encrusted body condom. Then, come rub all over me, baby! I'm hot! Not hot as in sexay, but hot as in I'm roasting in my own juices, this is ungodly, please help!

The question keeps arising in my bubbling brain: Can you imagine what it's going to be like in August? Sadly, I can imagine it, and it terrifies me. It's not scary on a "oh gee, this is gonna be uncomfy" level; rather, it's scary on a "all the meteorologists from the Weather Channel are circled about me in black robes and chanting 'burn in hell burn in hell' level. The Weather Channel is going to air a new show called It WILL Happen Tomorrow, featuring South Carolina spontaneously combusting and leaving what looks like a skid mark in Axl Rose's underpants on the map of the United States of America.

I would rather be hit in the left temple with a large hammer than to tolerate one more Summer day here in The South. I would rather have my eyes eaten out by emaciated turkey buzzards than have to see one more Southern sunrise. I would rather be buggered by desperately angry outcasts from Oz than be reminded that it isn't even Summer yet.

There's a host of people who've pointed out that I live so close to the Waystation, that I could walk to work. Why, yes, yes I could walk to work, if the people here didn't mind a wet, miserable soul, gibbering with the madness only the Southern sun can bring teetering in to do her job for 8 hours, if she lasted that long after having suffered a heat stroke. Thanks, but I'll reserve the walking to the 2.5 days of Autumn we might be afforded this year, if we survive the Summer.

Boom, it went

There's a big black cloud hovering over The Waystation. All of the phones just went *hyrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrccccccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh* and fairly alarmed Doug and Heather, who were both holding the receivers up to their ears. Shortly after that, there was an extremely loud BOOOOOM. Maybe we'll get some rain out of this. It'd be nice to have a little bit of moisture. Everything is quite dusty at the mo. Hot and dusty. Hot and dusty and miserable. Hot and dusty and miserable and horrific.

And now there's this big black cloud. I peered out the window at it and it peered back. That's never a good sign.

To do today

After work, I'm picking up Aunt Tudi and we're heading to Dr. Patch's to get some Amoxil Drops from Miss Marple and (hopefully) Spiteful. We're also going to the dump to drop off some rubbish and the post office to pick up more rubbish and, hopefully, a DVD. I'm waiting for Last Holiday starring Queen Latifah. Both Aunt Tudi and I loved that movie. It was also the deciding factor in my going to England. And the Gospel music in it never fails to give me chicken pimples, goose bumps, weasel pox, and a host of other animalistic flesh risings.

I was going to see Llew, but have put that off 'til tomorrow. Instead, I'm heading for bed early because I can't seem to keep my eyeballs open. I actually took a half hour nap at lunchtime, I was so sleepy. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but I hate it. It's not like I didn't get enough sleep last night. I went to sleep during The 4400 and slept through til this morning, about 9 hours. It's a good thing I taped The 4400; otherwise, I'd be so pissed right now.

So, that's the agenda for today: Vet's office, post office, and sleep sleep sleep. I'd really like to write on The Chalice some, but that's not gonna happen, not for as long as I'm narcoleptic.

Yo-Way-Yo

I've had that show LEXX on my mind all day long. It's a shame Sci-Fi doesn't show it anymore. I don't think the network showed the whole series in the first place. A good many of the shows were a bit too racy for American television, or so I've been led to believe by what I've read about the show. I didn't get into the last season so much when the Lexx came to Earth and the crew were fighting Prince. I just didn't like it as much as the episodes where they encountered a bunch of kinky weirdos each week. And that's a shame, really, 'cos I adore Nigel Bennett and I really really want to like him in LEXX, but I can't. Of course, I compare everything he does to Lucien LaCroix, so he's doomed from the get-go.

I prefer 790 being in love with Xev and I prefer Xev to Zev. And I like Xev with the funky bright red hair instead of the calico blonde hair from the last season. I liked it better when Stanley was hopelessly horny. And, of course, I will always adore Kai and his big bun head. And that song he sings, the theme song of the Brunnen G. Love.It.

Damn I miss LEXX.