Barb's Place

Kathy is off on one of her periodic Vegas trips with her mother, so tonight I eat fake pad thai and wish it weren't Thursday. After working overtime for the last three or four weeks straight (I've lost track of time, a classic symptom of something or other), yesterday I said screw it and came home on time, and today I had to leave on time to take Kathy to the airport.

I don't know if I want to work late tomorrow or not, but I may have to; while we've finally got enough staff to handle our current volume of incoming data, the workload for my specific position is still way up there - basically, we have two people doing what I do, and we really need three, but at this point it wouldn't help to hire a third person because of the dire limits of the software we're using (we're trying to make an Excel spreadsheet do the job of a real database, and the engines cannae take any more, Cap'n!) So we need to update the software, but for various reasons can't right now, and so must make the best of what we've got. Result, Barb is tired. But Barb had to replace her other two rapidly disintegrating tires tonight, so Barb neeeeeeds that overtime pay. Next week Barb must pull her socks up and get back to it, and hopefully stop referring to herself in the third person.

I volunteered to judge something, so I have several more stories to read before Sunday night, and I've been fiddling with bits of "Little Sister" in my head, and I really hope I'll get a chance to work on it this weekend. (framefolly, yes, by all means come over if you wanna.) Mostly, though, I want to sleep. I've fallen into the insidious trap of trying to keep up with my whole friendslist again, and I've got to stop it; I love y'all dearly, but you talk an awful lot.

Apparently there's a brutal honesty meme somewhere. I think I'll be avoiding that like the plague. Civilization was founded upon the white lie.

This is a test:



In case you're wondering, that is (if it shows up) James Marsters' butt, from one of the recent promo pics from Smallville. There was a debate raging on CDS over whether or not he has one, and this photo was offered as evidence, but the original was really dark. So I slapped it into Photoshop and was going to de-lurk and post the contrasty version, but for some reason I couldn't get it to show up from their posting interface. I'm just vaguely interested in whether there's something weird about links on their board, or if there's something wonky about the file permissions on my website. So if you're on CDS and can get it to show up there, be my guest. ETA: Duh, it's the same problem I was having before, I had hotlinking disabled. Unfortunately there's no way to let your website know that this is its rightful owner, who should be allowed to hotlink to her own domain.)

This is not technically spoilery for the comics, but I can see some people interperting it as spoilery, hence, cut tag.

[INT Barb’s brain. BUFFY and SPIKE are in bed, basking in the afterglow of activities best left shrouded in mystery in a PG-rated journal.]


S: So... what about it?

B: [drowsily] What about what?

S: [nudge-nudge wink-wink] You know.

B: [very prim] I have no idea what you’re talking about.

S: [wheedling] Come on, you know the annoying bint who writes us’s been looking for an excuse to have Faith pay a visit. No better time, yeh? Could be a birthday present. I’ve been very good.

B: You’ll never be that good. Besides, I’m not… you know.

S: Never know until you try.

B: [indignant] I’m as straight as you are!

S: [raised eyebrow]

B: You know what I mean!

S: [pouting] Could involve character development, you know. Bloody important character development.

B: Let me guess: the kind of character development where you end up as the filling in a Slayer sandwich?

S: No! I never! At least, not unless… well, yes.

B: Uh huh. On the day you Jello-wrestle Angel nude in a glass cage at the L.A. Convention Center, buster.

[BUFFY rolls over and yanks all the covers to her side of the bed, very decisively. Spike considers this for a moment.]

S: [hope springing eternal] Really? Cos Angel does owe me a favor...

Faith: [strolling in from offstage] Yo. Don't I get a vote?

B: [from beneath covers] NO!

S: [sulking] Bloody hell. No sense of adventure, is your problem.

B: [poking head out] Oh, please. Girl-on-girl is so tame.

FAITH sits down on the edge of the bed.

F: Hate to say it, but she's kinda right. For an evil creature of the night, your fantasies are pretty much on the Slayers Gone Wild side.

S: [insulted] Are not. They're deeply... disturbing.

B: [to Faith] Did Willow ever show you the specs for the Buffybot? It was like a Harlequin romance. With fangs. That was disturbing.

F: I'm defintely disturbed.

B: And the thing is? If we did do it? He'd be all wibbly and jealous and "Aren't I enough for you?"

S: I would not! Rawr, threesomes!

B: One word: Drusilla.

S: [Opens mouth, shuts mouth, glowers. A beat.] I've grown as a person since then.

F: [with a wicked grin] Dunno there, Spike. It's a slippery slope. Once I've had 'em, they stay had. [She turns to BUFFY.] What say, B? Go for the toaster or not?

B: [turns to Spike, eyelashes fluttering] Up to you, sweetie.

S: [long, agonized pause as he considers the ramifications] No tongues.

FAITH gives BUFFY a chaste peck on the cheek, blows SPIKE a kiss, and saunters off with a smirk.

S: Somehow that wasn't nearly as much fun as I was expecting.

B: Poor baby. I'll make it up to you.

S: [major sulkitude] Yeh? How?

[BUFFY reaches down under the covers]

B: I can help you grow as a person. [looks down, beams] Ooh, look, it's working already.

S: [somewhat mollified] It's a start. Mind, a bloke might need considerable personal growth to get past this kind of trauma.

B: Considerable, huh?

S: Bucketloads. Day an' night. Unceasing, one might say.

B: I'd better get to work, then.

S: [purrs] Rawr.

[Pan to the fireplace... BLACKOUT]


END