November 22nd, 2004

serious Oracle

(no subject)

So, last night I dreamt I was ambushed. More accurately, I was attacked by a fashion Press Gang. Yes, in my dream, I was nabbed by the hosts of 'What Not to Wear.' And not even the amusing, charming and delightful British hosts. Oh, no. I was pulled off the streets of Manhattan by the horrible and annoying American hosts.

I stammered that I hadn't signed up for it.

They responded, "Oh, honey. We're doing this one for free."

They proceeded to throw away everything I owned and then told me how horrible the makeup caked on my face looked. Thing is, I wasn't wearing any.

Move on to the store. They did that whole 'leap out 'cause you're buying crap' (never mind that I never had that consultation beforehand, which isn't all bad 'cause I didn't have to stand in that 360 degree mirror booth. Silver lining, that, and no pun intended) Anyway, the awful woman handed me a pantsuit to try on. Of navy polyester. In a size 18.

I could feel tears stinging my eyes. "But I'm not..."

"Trust me." She was unyielding. "It's time you faced up to it. It's for the best."

I woke up before actually having to buy anything. Or having to face up to some cold, hard, awful truths. Or maybe they were only dream truths.

Right about now, I'm still not too sure.

Worst of all? I've only seen the damn show maybe three or four times, and not in MONTHS. Get the hell out of my dreams, you psycho fashion tyrants!
  • Current Mood
    uncomfortable disturbed
serious Oracle

(no subject)

This is mostly for cretey, kachi113 and uberlibra:

my NaNo male protaganist is so very Daniel Jackson. I mean, really. He stammers a bit when he speaks, unless he's talking about folklore or mythology - that is, familiar ground.

I'm ripping off the geeky-cute-guy-stereotype in such a huge way. John Cricthon, Daniel Jackson and bowtie-clad Dr. Indiana Jones are going to visit me in my dreams and ....

Oh, wait. That's not a bad thing.