Dying holiday, dying dream.

My dream, since I was little, was to have the best house on the block for Halloween.

I would have the fake cemetery, the creepy, billowing fabric and haunting music. My front yard would be lit in a blood-red glow while creepy, haunting pumpkins flickered with evil intent. A skeleton would laugh from my front door as the braver children led their timid friends towards the sounds of werewolves, screaming witches and snarling dogs. I would be sitting in the entryway, just out of sight from the little ones because I’ve always thought ringing the doorbell was one of the best parts. I’d be dressed in some outlandish costume, Harley Quinn or maybe some kind of zombie witch, and hand them their candy with a glare or maybe some sort of peppy but demented comeback (It’s Harley Quinn, guys.)

Then, as they made their way down the steps, my significant other (Who had been dressed as a zombie warlock or perhaps the joker) would lunge at the nearest child with a haunting laugh or maybe even a simple boo. My house would be the ultimate experience. Tricks and treats galore.

Every time someone hopped out and scared the living crap out of me on Halloween, I thought of a time when I would be that person. I would be the one who everyone talked about, the one for one night who would steal the show. Younger kids would be terrified to approach my door; older kids would point out all the important but small details to their parents. I would be the best.

I’ve held onto this dream for my whole life, since those mystical nights when I would bounce around impatiently with my little brother, waiting for it to be dark so we could go out. Every year the night would become unearthly, radiant and alive. No one was who they appeared but that was okay, because by god- It was Halloween.

I had to work tonight, so I put on most of my costume and worked until 8. In the Halloweens of my youth this was when the night was in full swing, the streets packed with ghosts and ghouls and all manner of creepy creatures. And as my boyfriend (Who one day might be the Joker to my Harley) drove me home I began to fret. Where were all the kids? The little ones who could barely get up the steps and the older toddlers with their little Halloween pumpkin buckets. I didn’t understand.

I told The Boyfriend this image I had in my head of my perfect Halloween haunt once. It was a while ago, but I still remember what he said. “Halloween is a dying holiday. You could put a rubber bat out on the front of your house and have the coolest place on the street.”

When he said it I not only refused to believe him, but got downright mad. I told him he was dumb for thinking that, because holidays don’t just die.

But as I took in the few straggling kids as they walked from house to house I became depressed. A vampire trudged with his mother along one otherwise deserted street. Few houses were lit, few creatures creeping sneakily along the sidewalks with tired parents in tow. There are so few people out there these days, and I don’t understand why.

To all you parents out there who may have stayed with me long enough to get here, please listen. BRING YOUR KIDS OUT ON HALLOWEEN. Dress them up, give then a pillowcase and haul them from place to place. Ignore the cries of ‘my feet are tired’ and ‘but I don’t want to carry the bucket!’. The few fond memories I have of my old house are the ones of shivering under my robot costume with silver face paint slathered all over my forehead, getting home and dumping all the candy on the floor to sort through it and give my dad the things I didn’t like, or swap with my little brother.

And who knows. One day you might show up at a house with billowing fabric and blood-red lights, and your child will receive some tasty treat from a woman dressed as Harley Quinn.

Happy Halloween!

Imma be a goth chick. I'm excited.

I mean...Uh... Life is meaningless. The darkness becomes me.

I'm going to be one of those crazy goths. Not one of the normal ones.

:D

ALERT! ALERT! SITUATION CRITICAL!

*Flails*

Eekkkkk.

Badbadbadbad VERY BAD.

So, Uh... Okay. I was online today, minding my own business and reading some blog posts, when I got an email from Facebook. I'm never really on Facebook, but I get lots of emails from people poking and prodding me and whatnot, so I fuigred what the hell, and clicked on it. I see this:

DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?! DO YOU?!

Of course you don't, I haven't told you and I made the name all blurry.

IT'S THE BOYFRIEND'S GRANDMOTHER, YOU GUYS!

*Panic*

She is one of the nicest old ladies ever, right? Like, adorable and sweet and all that great crap, which is why I do not want her reading my Facebook! Because on the one hand, if I post something like... I dunno...

Me: Tamara-Wow gys i aM SoooOooo wated righ now!

I don't want it to tun into this.

Me: Tamara-Wow gys i aM SoooOooo wated righ now!
The Boyfriend's grandma: Bestgranever1: Interesting, what you choose to do on a Tuesday morning.*

I'm pretty sure I would not only die of shame, but I'd end up being dumped by The Boyfriend. And I don't want that to happen!

On the other hand, if I quietly ignore her as the site suggests she's going to KNOW. And then she'll be suspicious that I'm saying things that she wouldn't want to know and that's why I'm not adding her. This is exactly correct but I don't want her to know but ultimately, she'll know either way.... I'm rambling. It's because of the panic.

The way I see it there are two was this can go down.

1) I can add her and let her see exactly how horrible I am (God knows his mom already does, I was bullied into adding her), and hope that she either won't pay much attention or won't be able to see cause she left her glasses somewhere. This way, I risk her becoming overprotective and therefore, perhaps have tension with The Boyfriend's Family rise.
2) I can ignore her, wich will have one of two consequences.
2a) She will forget about it and move on.
2b) She'll start imagining the horrible things I might be doing that I don't want her to know about, picturing me torturing kittens, binge drinking and pushing her grandson down flights of stairs while telling him it's his fault. None of these things happen, but she is a grandma, it's their job to freak out over little stuff.

None of these options appeal to me. I don't know what to do, and the beautiful and all-knowing K is at some sort of shindig in which she will not answer my textually rendered pleas for help. The Boyfriend..Well he went to a wedding with the bio-dad, and was supposedly home an hour ago, but he's not answering texts either and it's worrysome for me. I'm hoping he just forgot his phone.

*Sigh* BAH.

*(NOTE: I don't do this. This is an exaggeration of what may occur. The last time I got drunk was my 19th birthday, and if you need to know how long ago that was I turn twenty on the second of November. That's right bitches.)

The interwebz

lot of the Internet is bull.

It’s a sad but true fact. Most of the time I skip over comment sections completely because I’d honestly rather not deal with assholes. I know enough of them in real life to want to volunteer myself as live entertainment. Why on earth would I want to spread my opinion if I know I’m going to get at least three people telling me I’m stupid and/or a fag? I wouldn’t! So why would I comment on anything?

I’ve only left one Internet comment on anything, and that was because of this stupid guy who kept saying he didn’t mean to offend anyone, but was doing a very good job of just that.

Another annoying thing about flame wars is when I agree with someone who is defending my position, but their spelling and grammar is cringe-worthy. I mean, most of my mistakes are typos, and I know I’m bad at spelling. But I run all my posts through spell check and grammar check before I post and every time I see a typo, it’s… ‘on’ instead of ‘one’ or something dumb that spell check might not catch. And I always fix it later.

But during a flame war, at least try to sound educated. I’m asking this to all you people out there (who are probably educated if you’re reading a blog to begin with), Please, PLEASE try to use proper spelling when defending a position. It really takes away from your agreement when you phrase it as “Lol dud3 I luv keesha shes soooooo funny and soooo talented and u can just fuk off!”

Even if the person you’re flaming is talking like that, it makes you look better to them if you’re spelling correctly. Also being polite helps, but really, it’s the Internet. How likely is that? Not very, if we’re honest. But trying is nice, isn’t it?

Xal returns.

So now I'm being informed that I have to be available on Fridays.

I have Fridays off because of school and my Show, Supernatural. I've had it booked off for the past two months, because I can't work on Fridays.

However Xal, who hasn't had a problem with this for the past two months, is now calling the union and making sure that I have to be available on Friday so he can try to fire me.

Apparently my schedule has to be 'You are available Friday, Saturday and Sunday as well as one day throughout the week'. Never mind that I'm available every other day besides Friday, and that it's been two months that I've had it booked off and it's only now that this has become a problem. He never booked me on Fridays before anyway, so I didn't think this would be an issue.

However now it has, and this is a huge problem. School and Show are more important to me then Xal and the fucking seafood department, but it's so hard to find a job right now that I don't know what to do. Do I sacrifice my grades and the one thing I go out of my way to do, or do I submit to Xal.

I've told Xal that Show is actually night school, to try and keep him from going this far, but apparently it doesn't matter. Now that I think about it, telling him that wouldn't have helped because he's a douche and wants me to lose my job, so I don't know why I even bothered with the lie. I could have told him it was for my AA meetings and he still would've been a little bitch about it.

Anyway, I think I'm going to start looking for a new job. My biggest problem with it is I need to transfer my resume over to my laptop from the old home computer, which barely works anymore and is downright stupid. It takes ages to do anything on it and never seems to do exactly what you want it to. I'm really not looking forwards to using it.

If I owned the internet..

For one thing, text would be in a different color when you were being sarcastic. Some of the biggest fights I've had with my friends that start online were meant to be sarcastic, but were taken as serious insults. And then even when I said something like 'No, I didn't mean it, it was a joke.' They'd still be mad cause it was either a Freudian slip or I was trying to make them think I didn't mean it.

On the other hand, there would be some sort of way to highlight when you were being completely serious, so people wouldn't laugh off whatever you were saying. Example:

Me: I'm really depressed. My dog has tongue cancer.
Random Person: O, lol T, U r so funy!
Me: -_-'

See? That's not meant to be funny.

Another thing I would do is get rid of chatroulette. Cause you know what? Ew.

There would also be some sort of.... I don't know, internet safety option that would FORCE people to use WORDS and not just the numerical or alphabetical equivlent. No more of this '2' for 'to' or 'U' as 'You' bullshit. The only time I consider that acceptable is when you're texting me, and even then I cringe. When you have a full keyboard in front of you there is no reason to use stupid letter shortcuts.

Overly negative things, like crime scene photos and stuff, would have some sort of password on them or something. I don't think looking at those is healthy for anyone, and with all the emo kids around like...Imagining themselves being the dead person...That shit's really not good for them. (On a related note, I dare you to type in 'Degloving' into Google images. My paramedic friend said it's the grossest thing he's ever seen. He's a paramedic, guys.)

(Didya look yet? Gross, right?)

World of Warcraft would be free. Because paying for it every two months sucks.

I asked Laura what she would do if she owned the internet, her answer?
'I'd use the internet to make my own religion.'

Ah Laura. I love you.

The Great and Terrible Xal.

I'm not making money right now.

The main cause of my lack of finacial gain in Xal. Xal is my boss. I work at a grocery store in the seafood department, and Xal is my manager (NOTE: Xal is not his real name. I re-named him to better express his villainous nature. It's close though.). I hate Xal.

When I first began to work in seafood, I though Xal was the greatest boss ever. It was my second job, and before I had worked in a fish and chips place called Fisherman's.

Fisherman's was run by Nick and Christine, an older Greek couple who had two settings. Loud and angry, and actually loud and angry because they weren't angry with you to begin with, just Greek. They inspired me to start writing when I began a book about the whole thing, but I was only getting four hours a week, and as a waitress I was under paid and paid under the table. So I decided to try getting a different job. I went in for an interview that foreshadowed some of the problems I would later have with Xal, but at the time I was stupid and thought foreshadowing only happened in well thought out books.

The first part of the interview was with a very nice HR lady who chatted about things with me and told me that Xal, in all his glory, had asked her to 'screen' me as an employee and if she liked me, to call him. She seemed to like me well enough because about three minutes into our interview she said she was going to find Xal.

Finding him took about half an hour. They paged him six times, called the department, even sent someone on their lunch to go see if he was in the back room of the store. The pages were loud and annoying and I was slowly and surely becoming more and more embarrassed, because he didn't seem to be around and the pages were really loud.

The HR lady (who I haven't seen since, I think Xal ate her), came back after a few minutes and sat across from me in this little room that joined onto the break room. She sighed and said she couldn't find him, then tilted her head to the side as she stared past me and narrowed her lips a bit.

Me: Well, I could always come back...
HR: No, that won't be necessary.
Me: *Slightly panicked* No, I mean it's not problem, I can come back any time.
HR: No, I mean he's right there.

She stood up and left, and I was confused. Until she led in a late-thirties guy with a buzz cut and "Employee since 1990" printed on his name badge. He'd been sitting in the break room the entire time, eating pizza.

(I just want to something that sink in. I was born in 1990. Yeah.)

He ushered the lady out of the room, making a comment on how good she looked (She was probably in her 70's), and sat down in the chair she had previously occupied. He then proceed to introduce himself, take another bite of his pizza, and stare at my resume for a good five minutes.

Xal: ....
Me: ....

When he finally looked up the barrage of questions was unexpected and a little frightening.

Xal: Why are you leaving your current job?
Me: Oh, I'm not getting enough hours-
Xal: -Do you get paid under the table?
Me: Uh, yes. But I get tips-
Xal: So a union is a step up huh? *Laughs*
Me: *Encouraged by laughter* Oh yeah, I'm really-
Xal: What kinds of fish do you know? Just list them.
Me: Um... Talipa, salmon, catfish-
Xal: -Actually, just seafood in general.
Me: Okay.. Salmon, halibut, crab, lobster--
Xal: -You like lobster?
Me: oh yeah, it's great--
Xal: -Keep going.
Me: Uh...Halibut-..I said that already... Um, Arctic char, clams, scallops, oysters, mussels--
Xal: -That's enough.
Me: *Meekly* Okay...

The entire time I talked with Xal, I had the feeling he was either in a hurry to get somewhere else or impatient with my answers. Everything would be inturrupted, and when it wasn't, he would be silent for a long time after I answered and scribble something down on his copy of my resume. I don't know if this has ever happened to you, but honestly? It's one of the most nerve-wracking things I've ever been through. And it shouldn't be, because what was the worst thing he could have said? "No, you don't get the job, sorry." That's it. But with every question I became more nervous.

Finally he said I could go, and that it was a pleasure meeting me. I left, eyes wide and wondering what had just happened to my brain.

However I wasn't home five minutes before the store's number popped up on my caller ID and I was being told to report back in three days for my orientation and to get my uniform, he had liked me and i was hired.

My mind was blown. And for the first six months I was pumped. He seemed like the best boss ever and I was good at the job. It was easy, and i have some sort of work ethic in me (Strange right?). I was seafood's new golden girl in a department that fired the other two guys hired with me before the three month probation period, one for being a no call no show for his shift, and the other for just being crap.

And this is when i began to hear things from my new coworkers. Dave told me that no one stayed long because Xal fired them for no reason. Colleen mentioned a guy who sat down while working and was informed he had been terminated. Terminated? Did this guy think he was Arnold?

Over a year into the job I began to realise Xal was not the awesome boss I had taken him for.

Xal: Tamaracanyougetthefrozenformeineedittogooutprontothanks

....That's Xal, talking as he rushes from one thing to another while talking to you, seeming to assume you understand him as his voice fades in and out.

Then there's his annoying habit of 'losing' notes I put on the bulletin board for days I need off. I'll re-write them over and over, and they're always gone by the next shift. Before I would think that the note disappearing meant he had gotten it and hence I did not need to work. Nay, fine people. I would still be booked. I eventually decided that I had to give them to the ASM (Assistant store manager), and the bookings on days I needed off stopped. Kinda.

Then the work I was doing apparently took a drastic slide, because people would tell me he had been complaining about things I apparently had not done properly. None of these things were ever said to my face, merely bitched about behind my back. I worked harder, but the bitching continued.

Then things began to get into the relm of harassment.

I am a huge flirt. Guys and girls a like are darlings, radiant sunshine flowers and the object of my unending desire. One day, Xal flat-out asked me if I wanted to do dirty things with a girl in bakery.

I was offended and appalled, but I laughed to save face because that is Xal. He asks these things.

Not long after that I got my first write up, where I burst into tears because I thought i had done a particularly good job that night working, and was confused.

Two days after, someone in the department next to me informed me that Xal, often and without provocation, would tell whoever was working at the time that I was going to get pregnant because I was having unprotected sex. In fact, every time I called in sick he attributed it to morning sickness.

I was shocked. How could Xal, lovable and always with a smile, say something so horrible about me? A better question, why?

But i said nothing to the store, partly because I had problems believing it but mostly because the HMR person who told me was not a great source.

Of course, when someone who was a good source came up to me a few months ago and told me that Xal had been spreading a rumor that The Boyfriend and I were having sex in the store bathroom.

The bastard was telling them all about it. This I did go to the union about, because honestly, who wouldn't?

Of course the union did fuck all. They said I had to prove I hadn't had sex with The Boyfriend, and i had to write a statement saying I hadn't. This amazes me and strikes me as bullshit. I have to prove it? And how the hell am I supposed to do that? You've got the damn security cameras!

In summary, Xal is evil but I still work for him cause I need money, I hate where I work and he's trying to get me fired. Gotta love retail.

The Boyfriend is attractive.

He is. I don’t know what I did to get him, but…. Damn, guys. Sometimes I don’t notice, but it really comes to light when I see pictures of him that don’t involve those goofy expressions he loves making when cameras are around.

Like that.

I’m not trying to brag (Though I’m sure I am, a little) but he’s very attractive. I think I’m going to start telling him more, so he’ll have nicely balanced self-esteem.

See?? Right? He’s sexy!

That last picture is of Chantel, the smoking emo chick on the right. Christan is the guy standing behind her, Peter is the guy in the hat. The Boyfriend and I are the weirdly cute couple. accent on weird.

Little bastard...

See that adorable ball of fur up there? He broke my headphones today.

That's my neighbours' dog Zach. Her son has a lot of courage to try and walk the monster, considering he's like...half the kid's size and way to hyperactive for words.

Anyway. Zach kind of loves me, and whenever he sees me on his morning walk the reaction he has is a lot of jumping and attempted licking. When he saw me this morning the only difference was this time, his paw caught on part of my headphones and ripped them right out of my ears.

The two little rubber buds attached to the headphones popped off them and fell into the grass. I found one of them, but the other one was a lost cause. I wanted to get to the bus on time so I started on my way.

But when I pressed the play button, my right earbud wasn't working.

It ticks me off a lot. They're not particularly good headphones, nor are they expensive, but they're the only ones I have and my music needs to be blaring over the bus noises. It's not even worth asking the neighbour in question to pay for them, though I think she should be the one walking the dog, so it doesn't jump all over people.

Oh! Because I have much nerd love, I have to post this. I've been humming it for pretty much days... And I just have to.

*Mutters* But there's no sense crying over every mistake. You just keep on trying till you run out of cake. And the Science gets done, and you make a neat gun. For the people who are still alive.

Still alive...

Still alive...

NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA BAT-MAAAAAANNNN

*Is in throes of happy glee*

So!

I had to do this assignment where we had to re-create a 2D fictional character in Adobe Illustrator. This is my third time ever using the program, and here's what I decided to do.

*Points to picture* *Nods slowly* Is batman, you guys.

Now I thought i was gonna do a shitty job, but guess what?!

Oh, right. He's missing a mouth. I'N NOT FINISHED YET! ...Jezze.

But hey! I've got some epic batman action going on here!

*Wonders if batman could be animated*

Anyway, I've been working my ass of on this guy for the last couple of weeks and believe me, it's not easy.

In other news, The Boyfriend's birthday was last week. On the 12th, whoo. Twenty-Four now. I've been holding back on the old man jokes, bit it's harddd. *Sad face* Like, really hard. But I do it because he is my love, and I do not wish to hurt his feelings. We're going for his body scan tonight.

Ohhh yeah. The Boyfriend has uber-treatable thyroid cancer, for the one person who's reading this and doesn't know. It's supposedly all gone now, but we're going in for scans and so on... Blegh.

Mom's chemo started today too...Yeah, I just got great luck. If cancer were a lottery, I would have money. Mom has not-so-uber-treatable breast cancer. She had a...Mammogram...or... The operation that starts with Mamm that means boobs get cut off.

*Confusion*

I don't understand why, when I'm on my homepage for my blog, all my writing looks like a paragraph-less wall of text trying to destroy and eat the readers soul.

However, if you click on that same post, it magically transforms into the readable segments that I intended.

.....

So my dad took my laptop cord to toronto yesterday.

See, I got a pre-owned Laptop for my program (graphic design) which is better pretty much all around then the one the college recommended. Better hard drive, faster and so on. however the one thing I noticed as soon as I got it

was the wire near the little magnetic part that plugs into the computer was bent. After about a month, a small black spot began to form on the otherwise pristine white cord.

Within what was pretty much two weeks my cord had turned from that, to this.

(Not my picture)

every time I tried to use it, much wiggling and adjusting had to take place. The light would flick on and off with every movement, and I was afraid to tell my dad because usually when something bad happens to the laptop, it's most certainly my fault. This time it wasn't, but I was terrified my dad wouldn't see it that way.

Anyway. He took it to toronto to get it replaced, and now the new one I have seems to let me use the laptop, but not charge the battery. Every time i pull the cord out I get my reserve battery power message. Looks like dad my be taking another trip to Toronto.

Thanksgiving!

Ha! Thanksgiving is always an ordeal for me, mostly because of what goes on.

Every year my entire family bundles into the car and heads to my grandma Mac Donald’s house, which is my dad’s side of the family, and all the characters from that side gather together to play out our own twisted version of a family reunion.

There’s always far too much food and far too many beers going around for anything even remotely normal. One year my parents start talking about embarrassing stories of my childhood, next year it’s my brothers’ turn and the next year they’re discussing my dads’ teenage antics. It seems to cycle, though once and awhile they mix it up with tales of how pathetic my uncle mike is.

This year is particularly nerve-wracking because I’m bringing The Boyfriend with me, and I can’t remember if last thanksgiving was my uncle mike or my brother. All I know for sure is last year was not embarrassing stories of me. I’m very, very nervous.

But also, excited. Because The Boyfriend can protect me from my cousin Jess, who is twenty-six and hits on me. He started out cool, and then became more and more creepy as his lack of friends began to affect him mentally. Hopefully, boyfriend being around will protect me from “Am I your favorite cousinnnn?” and “Look at this (Random Japanese) game (with horrible translations)!!” He honestly creeps me out so much it’s not even funny…

And then there’s cousin Nick, who is socially retarded. I can remember him dealing with many situations where he didn’t get what he wanted by throwing himself on the ground and screaming, and he’s almost thirteen. Or is thirteen, at this point…I don’t remember. Or I don’t care. It’s hard to decide.

He’s been pretty much raised by my grandparents and aunt Michelle, who’s…. different. I guess when you don’t have any friends outside of your family until elementary school; some social wiring gets all mixed up.

Well, We’ll see how this goes…

****Later*****

Jess isn’t here. I am so much more thankful (Haha, holiday puns) then anyone could imagine.

My family is great and warm and whatnot, though Peggy ticks me off. She’s some sort of cousin or aunt or great aunt or something (All I know for sure is she’s jess’s mom. *nod*). Anyway, every year since I discovered the internet was a good way to avoid awkward conversations, Peggy has marched into the room and asked me to look up whatever wedding pictures she happens to want to show everyone.

And every year since I’ve had a laptop, she’s asked me to use my computer to show her pictures.

This makes me so mad. It’s my laptop. There’s a perfectly good home computer she can use, but no. I get to sit, stewing in my own rage, for up to half an hour while The Boyfriend gets to play games on the home computer. I don’t try to disguise my rage, either. I’m perfectly comfortable glaring at the two people left as they try to figure out who belongs to which baby.

The great and terrible K was the only thing keeping me from saying “So whose getting married next year that no one cares about?”

Dinner was great, as it is every year. I love turkey skin…Nom nom.

Pretty uneventful otherwise. Cept my dad showed my uncle and The Boyfriend ‘Treevenge’…

DON’T LOOK IT UP.

DON’T.

Guess who's backkkk?!

Allie!

She hasn't posted in over a month, and I was honestly getting worried about her. But her new post is a cake-themed masterpiece. Go check it out!

I just noticed something!

My boobs look great today. *Nod*

Also, MORE PUPPY!

EDIT:
Oh my sweet zombie Jesus.

So I have no money in my bank account (Something that causes me endless shame), and I'm sitting in the college cafe smelling all the smells and getting steadily more hungry, and then I started scrolling through my pictures to find a good one of Puppy for my next post and i came across this:MCDONALDS NOW!!! *tears into cupcake with rage*

DELEATED

DELEATED

Say whatttt?

So I’ve decided to start a blog.

I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve been reading This Blog and her hilarity has spurred me into action. I’m not sure what to start with…Hmmm.

So this is all K’s fault. I refuse to use her name, cause if I do and she happens to make any of her friends read this, they will know quickly and immediately that not only do I disapprove, I downright despise. Nay Nay, K’s friends. Nay nay.

K is fantastic.

Right off the bat I’m gonna let you know that I’m not a tiny girl by any means (Nor am I oprah-worthy, however. I must find my fame in other avenues…), I’m big. Big girls are much more fun, because we know that no matter what you say to us someone else in a few years or months or whatever is going to come up with a more unique and original way of making fun of us. So really, have fun while you can. One day my many children will crush you, because I have lots of sex.

ANYWAY.

Yes, K is my best friend. I found quite quickly I am horrible at making real life friends. They’re all self centered or two faced or start liking my other friends more then me. Since I can turn that into a whole blog post, I’m not going to get into it too much. But K was my first real Internet Best Friend.

It all started because I’m a huge damn nerd and write fan fiction.

Yes, damnit, I write fan fiction. Through the incredible depths of fanfiction.net I realized that there are some fucked up people in this world. For instance, my most popular work on fanfiction.net was a Buffy the vampire fic that was spuffycentric and AU (alternate universe) it was mostly song lyrics. Yes. Song lyrics in a story.

In my defense, I was like, thirteen when I started writing it and had very little comprehension of ‘Words’ and ‘Plot’. These things were so foreign to me I spent most of my time sticking whatever song I happened to like into the story.

Off topic again? Bah. This is going to be more random then I thought…

I’d written a story for Torchwood (And if you know what that is, I point at you and yell either ‘Nerd’ or ‘BRITISH PERSON’ at you) And mentioned I needed a beta because all my other potential betas were just lonely people in my head, who were no better at grammar and spelling then I was. A beta is someone who proofreads a story chapter by chapter until you curl into a ball, crying, because you are bad at wording or writing or whatever it was you happened to be trying to accomplish when you started out. Why I wanted one confuses me to this day, but through this quest I met my braintwin.

We began exchanging E-mails after she left a review on my Torchwood story,. I was honest with her and told her the only reason I was writing this particular non-graphic slash fiction was because my favorite show had to main male leads, but they were brothers, and the idea of incest did not appeal to me in any way shape or form. I believe I referred to it as ‘Squicky’.

She almost had a panic attack, because she was the same way. Supernatural was our love. Sam and Dean and the impala and bobby (Booby!) And Cas and Chuck and John! ARGH! I’m getting all fluttery just talking about it.

We then proceeded to talk more and more about us.

Me: You like Pizza, y/n?

K: Y!

Me: You like Hawaiian pizza, y/n?

K: Y!!!

Me: OMG

Yes, we’re very, very deep.

We soon discovered we like most of the same shows, adore classic rock and Nickleback but are really, very varied in our musical tastes, and our relationships (All three or so of them) were creepily mirroring one another. I was in love.

Sadly, K lives in the deep netherverse (Alberta), and only once have our two universes collided so we can talk outside of out dimension portals (The internet and phone) We were already in our second year of best-friendom when her and her family went to New York for some rest and relaxation. On the way back they had a two-hour layover in Toronto, which is an hour away from yours truly.

I took two trains and two buses to get to the airport. Then I stood (Okay, paced and bounced around impatiently) At where I thought she would be coming out with my friend Tim, who was infinitely patient and kept me company because The Boyfriend didn’t want to come (Had to work).

I was wrong of course, and she found me. Our first face-to-face conversation went something like this.

Me: HI!

K: HI!

Me: *Flails*

K: *Flails more*

Tim: *-_-‘*

Me: *Makes squeaky noises while flailing*

K: *Flails while making squeaky noises*

Tim: :0

The rest of our hour and a half visit was spent giggling and laughing and nervous shuffling. Her parents commented often on how damn alike we are. We’re fabulous.

She then returned to the netherverse, and I haven’t seen her since.

I miss my K.