K, was stalked by some random telephone-number-dispersing woman in the supermarket this evening. Mother always said the crazies come out at night, my presence further emphasising that point, but I’ve not had problems prior to now.

Well. Just call me grumpy, old and intolerant. At least two of those are true. Definitely at least grumpy.

 

If you saw, say, Magneto in your local supermarket, perusing the freshness of Farm-fresh eggplants in the produce aisle with his little metal hat on, would your first thought be “OOH! A FRIEND I HAVEN’T MET YET!”? I think not. I avoided her gaze for as long as I could help, but she requested help reading something, and my manners wouldn’t allow me to refuse a politely-phrased request, no matter how much I didn’t feel like talking to a woman who looked like a dead dandelion stuck on top of a ball of black doileys. 

 
After clearly fishing about for a starting point for conversation (big hint for me of her mental state as I was clearly the last person to start talking to)

(like the earphones that I wasn’t taking out weren’t hint enough), we struck up a conversation. That is to say, I looked at the printer cartridges while she struck up a conversation. Whacked it, actually.

 
She commented on how much she liked my hair, at which point I discovered the true depths of her sheer and frightening madness; or perhaps she was only blind, which might go some ways to explain what she was wearing, but clearly not far enough. Then she proceeded to detail how much she loved hair

(producing unhelpful mental images of Crispin Hellion Glover and his angelhair fetish)

And playing with it

(proceeding to Jame Gumb)

and she asked me where I lived (naturally, I lied through my teeth)

and quite a few other things I don’t choose to recall in the same inane vein

(Dahmer anyone? You just don’t talk about those things in a supermarket. You just don’t.).

 
VERY EXPTREMELY OBSESSIVELY LONG story short, and after rummaging in her hideously large purse for a pen so she could give me her phone number*, I… went and hid in the frozen foods section for a while. Sad but true. She was quite… enthusiastic about listing her talents as a hairdresser, where she’d gone, been… done… etc.  

 
Amusingly enough, as I was leaving, the checkout girls were discussing her too. As in, “She seems lovely…” *STRAINED AND POINTED SILENCE* Glad I wasn’t the only one. No more late shopping, no matter what sushi I want at three in the morning.

 
*A mobile, as for some reason.. she… didn’t have a phone? Yes, certainly I’ll come visit you. Of course I won’t tell anyone, and rohypnol sounds like a wonderful addition to tea. No, I don’t really need my liver.

 

 

INCREDIBLY SELF-ABSORBED POST #1: 
THURSDAY: A DAY OF CONFUSION 

A bitch: 
Hmmm. Getting ticked off with a sketch that a started the other day – I sat down, with full intent to draw either the most amazing Black Jack, Enishi, or Vincent Valentine sketch EVARRR…. and twenty minutes later I’m looking at … Cid Highwind? Grumpy goddamn f#$@#ing Cid ‘$@#$%#’ Highwind? Shit, how does that work? They don’t even… they’re not… …wtf? And it’s still not finished. Two days. Two days! *shakes fist* 
_{A/N: Hence the bad language. Chain-smoking little bastard took over my tiny mind with that spear a’his and made me do his bidding. Well HAH! to you, Cid Highwind! You took over the wrong nerd! I CAN'T DRAW!} 

Mmmm. Starting FFVII fic. Well, somewhat. I have some dialogue… more like a prologue… but I don’t know what to do with it, and it’s a bit too unfounded to be a drabble. Regardless, I’ll post… when I can remember where I saved it. X( It’s not all that often, but sometimes I have a problem with having a short attention spLET’S GO RIDE BIKES!!! 

_{No, seriously, I just don’t know where to go with it. It’s fun so far but the premise really is nuts.} 


and FOR. THE LOVE OF GOD. SOMBODY. BUY ME. DIRGE. OF CERBERUS. Everyone’s talking about it and the shiny shiny Turk!Vincent. S’driving me up the proverbial architectural fortification. DIRRRRRRGE.
_{Square Enix was totally counting on the fangirls for the sale of this one. I don’t care what kind of reviews it got.} 



And… the REAL question: The one thing that has occupied my tiny mind all this day… 


... if you put Vincent Valentine, Hatori Soma and Aoshi Shinomori and all in one room... who would speak first? 

_{Would any of them? Ever? They’d probably just sit around and drink green tea indefinitely. :D}