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Friday, December 19th, 2003
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Wednesday, December 17th, 2003
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Kate's had a tough day. I've had a good one. I think this calls for a party.
I've heard good things about a place in Santa Monica called Rockenwagner Brasserie. I figure that we're good to go, hang out, have a few drinks, dance a few dances, and basically celebrate life.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Thursday, December 11th, 2003
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| Time: | 3:26 pm. |
| Mood: |  rejuvenated. | | Music: | O Fortuna, Carmina Burana. |
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You know, teleporting is such a handy skill. The 405 and the 10 are hell in LA, no matter what time of day, and I was able to avoid both and end up popping directly into my father's den.
We all remember my father, right? The bastard who did his best to keep me locked up and basically bred me as a sacrifice for his favorite goddess? Yeah, him. Bastard has a statue of Janus on his desk now. Seems about right, him worshiping the Great Two-Faced One.
I tried the therapy. I tried accepting that he was just a slimeball skezoid son-of-a-bitch. And you know what? Screw the healthy crap, the wellness, the happy.
I like the power better.
El jefe doesn't let me use my vengeance demon powers again anyone other than my victims. And I never had much in the way of Wicca power when I was mortal. But, you know, you don't need a hell of a lot of magic to curse someone.
You just really need to hate. A lot.
You know, I feel a lot better now that I confronted my father. Like my therapist might have said, it was cleansing.
As long as I don't have to cleanse the carpet in his study...
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, December 6th, 2003
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If I never hear It's A Small World After All again, it will be too soon. Of course, now, everywhere I go it's Christmas carols... ick. Give me a nice longest-night-of-the-year blood sacrifice, and I'll be happy.
Wow, it's been a long time since I posted. Been reading up on the news to catch up. Looks like there's going to be a wedding in LA. Weddings are nice. Blood sacrifices are nicer, though...
Yo, Boss! What's shakin' in the vengeance world? I've got to get back in practice!
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Boss, I don’t know if I can hold out much longer. Day-in, day-out. Must be happy. Must be cheerful. Must rip off heads of annoying tourists and use them as basketballs...
Happy. Cheerful. Be a good cast member. I can feel my brains dibbling out of my ears.
I’m making a run for it. I’m going to mug a Minnie Mouse, get the costume, and break into the Small World ride. And I won’t leave until I have freed you.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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I managed to get hired as a "happy cast member" at Disneyland, and have commenced my search for the Boss. I have been assigned to work the Haunted Mansion. My costume is just wonderful (sarcasm fully intended): a long green skirt, a high-necked white blouse and a black hat with black crepe streamers in the back.
I have tried to search FantasyLand for the Boss, but unfortunately, I am very out of place in my funeral attire there. One little kid grabbed onto my skirt with his sticky hands and demanded to know what I was doing there. He made such a fuss that I finally went veiny-faced at him and told him to shut up. (Worked beautifully.)
I'll have to see if I can get switched to another part of the park. I'm convinced the Boss must be under the It's a Small World ride, but it's proven impossible to search.
Hmmm... or maybe he's locked in the Matterhorn...
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D'Hoffryn has been taken captive by The Evil Mouse. Plus, it really is time to leave Sunnydale.
So I will step into danger. I will go to the place even demons fear to tread. I will take the fight to the Mouse on his own ground.
I'M GOING TO DISNEYLAND!!!!!
Hmmmm. Months ago, Wes warned me not to come back to LA. Well, Anaheim isn't quite LA, right? Maybe it is a small world, after all.
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Thursday, April 17th, 2003
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There's apparently an art gallery in town. From all I've heard, even though Sunnydale is a comparatively small town (compared to LA, anyway), it is pretty good. Worth checking out, right?
Scanning the journals, I see a lot of people grieving. Call me cold, but I can't work up any emotion upwards of apathetic. It's very sad, I'm sure, but when you insist on going up against evil with insufficient resources, tragedy is the least that can result. I just refuse to have insufficient resources.
Watching the TV is useless, too. All anyone wants to run is feeds from LA, with that Jasmine chick. I can't help but think that anyone who claims to have all the answers -- and the answers are that easy -- is suspicious. She annoys me. Angers me. I don't know why, but she does...
Stick with me, Kate, and I'll keep you safe. In the middle of an apocalypse, who's a better companion than an immortal magical creature who has finally (yes!) mastered teleporting?
So... wanna go shopping?
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The audience just voted me Hot. I'm supposed to be happy about this. I'm supposed to parade around and wiggle and pretend that being objectified pleases me.
Damnit, I'm an immortal vengeance demon with powers that they can't even begin to comprehend. THEY CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!!!!!!!!
Anywhere but here. Anywhere is better, i swear. Okay, somewhere specific. Um... Sunnydale. Willy's Bar. Smell of booze and demon B.O. I'm there, I'm there, I'm there...
I'm there? Damn! I made it! I teleported! I'm in the middle of Willy's Bar!
(I wish I wasn't still wearing that damn bikini...)
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, April 10th, 2003
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| Subject: | Dear God. This is worse than Hell. |
| Time: | 2:58 pm. |
| Mood: | desperate. | | Music: | Some "blonde" "hot" "chick" warbling a Brittney Spears song. And being told that this isn't the Miss America pagent, there isn't a talent portion.... |
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I'm on "Are You Hot?" As in, I'm a contestant. As in, I'm surrounded by desperate people whose only goal in life is to convince three even-more pathetic people (and the studio audience) that they are, well, hot.
I've already been dissed by Lorenzo Lamas because I have too much hair. (One to talk, buddy.) Some dude who claims to be a fashion designer says my butt sags. My butt does *NOT* sag. And I'm thisclose to going vengeance demon on their asses and ripping out their jungulars. (Rachel Hunter should be used to it. She was married to Rod Stewart. What, you didn't know Rod Stewart was a demon? Did you *see* his hair?!?!?!)
My only way out of here is to teleport. D'Hoffryn says I'm ready, but I don't know. I don't think I can. I think I'm going to be stuck here. Forever.
::::sobs::::
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Um... Boss? |
| Time: | 3:24 am. |
| Mood: |  nauseated. | | Music: | The studio audience cheering and clapping and generally sounding like they are drunk... which I wish I was. |
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Where am I? Why am I on a stage? Why is Lorenzo Lamas here? And how come there is a studio audience and light-up signs reading "Hot" or "Not"? Why did the guy next to me take off his shirt and make his pecs do unlikely things? Why am I wearing a bikini?
I'm in hell, aren't I? GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Don't go running back to LA. And don't listen to whatever Wes says. He's wrong opinionated on the topic. It makes me so angry. I don't think I can make him understand.
I might be a bit... busy over the next couple of days. Teleportation lessons, and all. I will get back to you, I swear. I'm just... elsewhere, for awhile...
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, April 5th, 2003
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| Time: | 7:04 pm. |
| Mood: |  depressed. | | Music: | Snake River Conspiracy: How Soon is Now. |
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Um, Boss? I think I really need those teleporting lessons.
IkindagotpinneddownandforcedtorescindthewishWoodmadelastnight.
I thought doing good as a vengeance demon was going to be easier than this... *sigh*
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Serious hottie at the bar. I mean serious hottie. How come African-American guys can pull off that shaven-head thing? Yummy. Human too, as far as I can tell, which isn't all that uncommon in Willy's, but isn't really that common either.
More interestingly, there is something about him that screams, "I have issues! Look at my issues!" Something about them are setting my Vengeance Demon sense tingling (kinda like spidey-sense, but without the bugs).
There are a few glasses clustered in front of him. He's belting down another one. Willy hands me my MGD and a Diet Coke for Kate, and I wander down the bar to Hottie Issue Boy.
"How's the evening treating you?" I ask.
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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Okay, Friday night, nothing much else to do in this town, so I'm on my way to Willy's Bar. Tra la la...
Kate? What are you doing in Sunnydale?
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Waking up two-thirds of the way back to LA? Not so much with the fun.
Particuarly given the fact that I screamed, swerved, didn't hit the semi, and did hit the tree on the side of the road. Ouch.
So managed to limp back to Sunnydale, check back into the hotel, and nursed my bruises.
Vaguely remember a small, ugly man and fun (not) with the toilet... ick.
Then I got online and caught up with everything that was happening that day. I found the posts from the person who was in my body and discovered I was thisclose to waking up with a bald head or something. Sheesh! Hands off the hair!
Anyway, it's Friday, it going to be Friday night, and I'm ready to go out. Willy's, here I come.
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Trust me, the hairdresser did not remain alive by altruism. More because I've got better things to do that spend a lovely afternoon eviscerating someone.
All I wanted was to get about two-thirds of this horrible mess cut off and the rest chemically straightened. The hairdresser (a tousled, lost-in-the-Eighties-and-I-mean-the-Dolly-Parton-portion-of-the-Eighties) whose name was, improbably enough, Blue, was appalled that I wanted to cut my "gorgeous" hair, full of "life" and "color". Has she tried to get a simple comb through this hideous mass? (I doubt it. Her hair looks like it was shellacked in place and hasn't been touched in twenty-two years.)
I want calm hair. Business-like hair. Simple, classic, shiny hair. (Although, apparently, I cannot even approach the Slayer's sister in shininess.)
Finally, I gave up. I'd be better off returning to LA and going to my hairdresser there. Claudia wouldn't dare argue with me. She used to be Claudio, and see where arguing with me got her?
From the research I've done today, it is very clear that this is a wide-spread phenomenon. Most interestingly, it seems that, although the personality in the body is new, sometimes (although not always) the personality of the original owner permeates the body. Luckily, I have a strong enough personality that such an event is impossible. (No, really, I would have gotten drunk and brought that guy back to my hotel room if I was in my own body. Really.)
Cole Turner continues to be recaltriant about returning to Wolfram and Hart. I will have to think about ways of ensuring his cooperation happiness here... er, there. Whichever.
Irony of ironies: I am in the body of a vengeance demon. Who apparently has no idea how to teleport yet. I'll have to rent a car to get to Los Angeles. And pick up a bottle of brandy along the way.
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One thing: Way too much hair for one being.
Must find out where I am. And then schedule a haircut. And then return to LA and continue hounding convincing Cole Turner to fulfill his obligations to the firm.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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So, while the Boss has been elsewhere, I've been working my way around Sunnydale. A lot of kids really get annoyed at their parents. It's fun. So one father now gets a mild electric shock everytime he yells at his teenage daughter, while a mother who never stopped bugging her son is now invisible (but still around to do all the chores). Fun.
But I think I'll check out the Summers house again. There always seems to be something going on there.
Of course, right now, "something" appears to be small blue creatures...
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, March 22nd, 2003
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My senses are changing. I am feeling weird things. (And no, it's not leftover from my hangover.) I probably should check on what's going on in LA... but I just don't care.
Walking down the streets of Sunnydale, knowing that with very few exceptions no one can harm me... hmmmm. Power.
I can close my eyes and sense things around me. Dim lights for the humans, flickering weakly. Brighter for other supernatural beings. And one... etheric emanation. I wrap my hand around the amulet D'Hoffryn gave me, my power center, and I can feel it a bit stronger.
I follow my senses to... a bar? Great, the day after I swear off drinking. Sort of. Well, it's not like whatever rotgut they have is going to kill me.
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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notavirgin's journal
chipper.
determined.
annoyed.
surprised.
infuriated.
productive.
predatory.