nookiepowered | Recent Entries

"Hi, this is Bo, except not. This is where you leave Bo a message, and Bo gets back with you sometime after she stops being weirded out by talking about herself in the third person."

"Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to you..."

The season was right, a Christmas tree glowed in the corner, but it wasn't quite Bo's birthday yet... was it?

But it had to be, because there was a frosting-bedecked cake on the table in front of her, a forest fire of candles blazing around the edges of the BETH in gooey red script, shadows flickering over familiar faces: her mom, her dad, her closest friends from school, even Kyle standing behind her, one hand resting easily on her shoulder, which really couldn't be right, because... because....

"Happy birthday, ( SPAWN OF DEMONS... )
"NO! I DON'T WANT TO! LET ME GO!"

With that shout, Bo finally fought her way free.

...of the sweat-soaked sheets that were twisted around her body.

Times like this, Bo kind of wished she'd grabbed more from Mitchell's place the last time she went to visit than a good time, a lot of tea, and a big stack of Aero bars. Specifically, a pack or two of smokes.

Hell, right now she'd settle for just one cigarette. "Well. That sucked balls."

[OOC: cut for religious zealotry, parental mental illness, and undead boyfriends, as you do. For the BFF, primarily, but open to calls or visitors as well.]

This was not Bo's first trip around the Fandom block, which was why security officer or no, you were not going to catch her Saturday night in the middle of a pumping, grinding mass of overly hormonal teenagers. Which... pretty much described the island now, and if she had her way, you wouldn't be catching Bo here either. But...

Let's just say that Bo's suggestion to the Portalocity operator when he told her there were no open dimensional paths to anyplace or anyone she would usually flee to was... well, if he'd been here and willing to take it literally, Bo wouldn't be having to settle for a long bath behind the Chinese screens, a Pinot Noir, and an audiobook of 49 Tints of Ecru.

Read by the most obnoxious voice actor she could find, just in case the prose didn't shut down her libido on its own.

...Goddammit, when did Gilbert Gottfried get so hot?

[For an unexpected interloper who may or may not be the mayor, but open for calls and yellings-up-the-stairs as well! Aaaaaaand now NSFW.]

"What the shit?"

Bo might not remember where she was, how she got there in general or the floor in particular, why she wasn't wearing much of anything on the top half of her body, the name of the blonde whose head was currently cutting off the circulation to her left arm, or even her own name, but her FCC-noncompliant vocabulary hadn't gone anywhere, so that was something, right? Right?

[For the blonde!]

Bo never knew whether she loved or hated the island on nights like this. In the hate column, she'd just been walking down the street minding her own business (and if that street happened to go past the art supplies n' birth control megastore no longer an official franchisee according to corporate, it was none of your business) when at least a gallon of freezing cold water -- and freaking ICE CUBES -- came pouring down out of the sky onto her head. Right in front of Tamsin's place because of course she was, because Fandom.

On the other hand, blondie didn't get much chance to snicker at Bo from her front step before the heavens opened up on her too, which was gratifying. (What Bo could see of it through her dripping hair, anyway.)

Squelching across town to get home would've been decidedly less so, but several eyerolls later (and one assurance that Tamsin didn't give a crap personally but she was an officer of the law and Bo on the street in a wet t-shirt was clearly a menace to public safety), Tamsin was tossing dry clothes at her while Bo tried not to drip too much on the carpet as she peeled herself out of the soaked ones.

Overall, she'd have been willing to call the whole thing a draw -- if her tabulations hadn't been interrupted by the both of them suddenly kerthumping to said carpet like two sacks of potatoes. Two very wet, half-naked, completely unconscious sacks of potatoes.

Because Fandom.

[Estaaaaaablishy. *valkyrie-mods, as you do, because Fandom*]

Bo was going to go on a J,GoB run this morning, since she'd woken up early anyway.

Until she looked out the window.

"Riiiiiight. Guess it's time to try out that new waffle maker after all." There hadn't been enough booze in Baltimore to make her forget turning into a hoochie-coochie dancer, so. Retail therapy.

On the plus side, the waffle currently cooking as she started up the coffee machine smelled delicious. On the not so plus side, it'd be nice if she could stop humming, "It's raining eels, hallelujah, it's raining eels, for real..."

[For the roomie(s). Or anybody else who wants a waffle.]

When you stumble home from a weekend ~~booty~~ social call in Wales via portal at Godonlyknowswhat o'Clock in the morning (sadly without a stop at your office on the way), you're a little less likely to notice a stranger crashed on your couch than you are when you stumble back downstairs after a few hours of sleep.

And a brief tiptoe around the corner to grab the nearest blunt object.

"If you're somebody I know who suddenly sprouted a penis today, tell me now so we can save us both the concussion and the awkwardness," Bo said, gripping her baseball bat firmly.

Said the woman who saw nothing awkward in wielding a baseball bat while wearing a negligee and a pair of red fuzzy Angry Birds house slippers.

[OOC: for the housemates!]

"Oh God, what fresh hell is this?"

You'd think Bo was watching the security feeds, given, you know, Fandom, but no. She'd just logged into her NotaBlog account. Shellac Error, refresh, Top Coat Error, refresh, Out of Cheese Error, refre-- SURPRISE! Whole new site design!

"What. The. Frak."

Sure, she only used the thing to follow the Angelica Demesnes anonmeme anymore, but seriously? Where were the shortcuts? Where was the header? Why was there a goat in a gimp suit on the sidebar? Despite every instinct in the world screaming at her not to click...

Baaa-aaaaa-aaahhhh!!

"Oh, that's just wrong. Why would you do that?"

So yeah, anyone passing by probably still thought she was watching the security feeds. Because Fandom.

[Open!]

"I'm not sure how I feel about buying furniture with names," Bo said thoughtfully. "I mean, around here? What if Ivan doesn't like Sven and we spend the next year listening to the couch beating up on the coffee table in the middle of the night?"

Potential Twitter tag for this adventure: #fandomislandproblems

[OOC: for the new roomie!]

Most people who invited friends over for breakfast invited those friends to their home, not their office. Then again, most people who invited their friends to their home for breakfast

a) had a kitchen
b) had friends who don't effectively live next door to their office
c) were most people, which Bo was not. Hell, the jury was still out on whether Bo was even people.

All of which added up to a security office full of J,GoB doughnuts, Perk coffee, and orange juice that was not a pitcher of mimosas and would never be, no matter how much someone with an unpronounceable Russian last name might ~~bitch~~ wish otherwise.

It also added up to a crapload of leftover doughnuts, coffee, and still-not-mimosas once those friends were no longer in residence, because somebody was so not used to doing breakfast for more than two, and had way overcompensated.

[OOC: First thread is for breakfast with the Canuckian travelers, second is open office hours!]

( Probably just having tea... )
( One guy from a governator movie down, one...what, to go? )
( I feel like I'm out on parole. )
( May I offer an opinion? )

[Preplayed with the spectacular

regretiz4suckas,

godgavemecable,

chose_humanity and

glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK!]

( Ew. Turkish prison chic. )
( So what exactly am I in for here? )
( Please don't be rats... )
( What're they feeding you down here? )

[Preplayed with the stupendous

regretiz4suckas,

godgavemecable,

chose_humanity and

glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK! One more coming, but laaaaater. Possibly by the "tomorrow" definition.]

( The entrance to the vault was tall, intricately carved, and most importantly, heavy as all hell. )
( Will you take off the {microphone feedback} hood already? )
( That girl barely even knows she's Fae. )
( Let's Go Up To The Lab And See What's On The Slab )
( Why don't we have a car? )

[Preplayed with the supercalifragilistic

regretiz4suckas,

godgavemecable,

chose_humanity and

glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK! More on the way, pre-apologies for the spam.]

For all that the outside of Trick's beloved Dal Riata looked like just another entrance down Bad Decision Alley, the inside was warm and comforting, with wood that polished until it glowed and comfortable stools and chairs that had been worn down by years of patrons.

It was the perfect place to relax and unwind, whether with a beer after a long, hard day. Light Fae and Dark could mingle and rub elbows without exchanging more than dirty looks or fanged glares. The Dal was a Waystation: a neutral, Fae-only pub, where they were free from the need to mask their true nature.

It was still a little bit before the dinner rush, which meant the bar itself was more empty than not. Which, considering the group about to enter the Dal, was probably for the best.

( You're sure this is the right address? )
( Later... )

[Preplayed with the splendiferous

regretiz4suckas,

godgavemecable,

chose_humanity and

glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK! Dyson and Trick's conversation folded, spindled, and mutilated from Lost Girl 1x01, It's A Fae Fae Fae Fae World.]

Bo leaned back in her chair, boots propped on the desk, oddly wistful that her office was devoid of rubber ducks, balloons, body-part-shaped-pastries and provocatively-dressed beanie-babies this week.

Which is to say, devoid of any new rubber ducks, balloons, body-part-shaped-pastries or provocatively-dressed beanie-babies; she wasn't counting the ones that had already been there. They were too familiar to provide much distraction from the round of circular thinking she'd been caught in for the past few days.

Sometime in the future I'll know about my past. Might. Sometime in the future I might know about my past. I've got family somewhere. If I can find them...

If she could find them, she could find out why she'd lost them. Then again, maybe why they didn't want her was something she didn't want to know.

In conclusion, where was an office full of crossdressing inflatable glow in the dark Wookiee dolls when you needed them?

[Open!]

Gremlin Bite: Femdom Island (Sam Traynor)
Tiny Really Really Hates Everything (Kenzi)
Friends don't let friends tweet drunk. (Dean)

20 Year Reunion (Kenzi, Dean-but-not, Jaye)

No students in the halls, no likelihood of trouble, perfect day to catch up on the paperwork bits of Bo's alcohol-free job, right?

Why she'd expected to find her office unmolested at all, let alone after Kenzi's graduation, Bo had no idea, but she still ended up standing in the doorway staring like a dope for a bit.

It didn't help that the second she opened the door, she was hit in the face by an unfortunately-shaped balloon arrow, launched across the room from a carefully-rigged and really kind of impressive balloon bow.

Balloon swords dangled from the ceiling. Balloon... she guessed they were supposed to be land-mines...littered the floor.

Her stuffed mountie moose sat on a filing cabinet armed with a balloon M-16, which Bo though was a little excessive for the RCMP until she tracked across to his target: the giant rubber duck sitting in her chair.

Wearing a postman's cap and wielding what she really really hoped was supposed to be a cannon.

"And here I was afraid it was gonna be a boring day at the office."

[Open; decoration-modding and duck-larceny performed with multiple blessings.]

If earlier shenanigans hadn't prepared Bo to expect more office redecoration, the index card she'd pulled off Fosse's closet door that read BO'S OTHER BOYFRIEND in purple crayon would have.

All told, though? Security feeds labeled KENZI HALL, PARTY CENTRAL, ARIETTY'S PLACE KEEP OUT THIS MEANS YOU, PETRAWORLD, and PRINCESS GRACE'S ROYAL THRONE ROOM (camera re-aimed toward the second floor girls' bathroom door) were way better than the rooms she'd been limited to last week.

It wasn't the heads of her enemies, but as interior decor went, rainbow streamers, unicorn stickers, and something that looked like the siege of the Alamo recreated across her desk with an army of dinosaur-riding plastic cowboys vs. an army of pony-riding plastic astronauts were way less likely to get her fired in the event of a sudden school board visit, as well.

[OOC: Open, and suggestions for redecoration via bored sugar-hyped urchins (and Grace) provided largely by the bored sugar-hyped urchin in question.]

Tuesday: Waking up | Eric and Dean
Wednesday: Baggage
Thursday: Annie | Dinah
Friday: Walking a Dinosaur
Sunday: Eric | Clockwork Spiders | Finding Anakin

"Seriously?" said Bo on entering her office. Because seriously?

Bad enough that all her calls to Portalocity were coming back Contact Declined this week, like somebody over there was actively trying to make sure she couldn't escape to Wales and certain undead residents thereof when certain feelings she lived with every day started twisting up the dial to Spinal Tap levels, but now this?

This being a security office now liberally bestrewn with colorful latex circles and squares (equal opportunity desecration; she supposed that was nice), battery-operated objects of various sizes and shapes, some more humanoid than others ("TENTACLES, KENZI? REALLY?"), some even already turned on (...shut up) like the line of yellow plastic ducks merrily buzzing their way across her desk.

Like her libido needed any had-to-have-come-from-'Dite's encouragement this week? And as for the leather swing hanging from a sturdy pair of chains affixed to the ceiling in the middle of the room...

Actually, that looked kind of fun. Maybe it would even cool her off a little bit?

Orrr maybe not. On the other hand, working up a sweat as she swung back and forth was keeping Bo just dizzy enough to forget why she was supposed to be annoyed about this.

{Aaaaaaand the followthrough, because there's always followthrough.}

[OOC: Office redecoration modded with permission, nay instigation from

regretiz4suckas. Open, but... sex pollen. Succubus. Probably not safe for work despite the fact that she's at work.]

Current Mood: Um...

3/16/2013: Periwinkle crackle (Tiny)
3/30/2012: Cravats are cool now. (Jaina, Dean Winchester, Natasha Romanoff)

"No," Bo repeated into the phone for what she was pretty sure was the third time. "We're not interested in purchasing a Cobweb Surveillance System. Even if we didn't already have our own security set-up that can detect when a gremlin thinks the word Skywalker, why would I want to keep track of cobwebs? What're they gonna do, stage a coup and take over the school if the janitor misses a spot while he's dusting?"

Pause.

Pause.

Pause.

"So if the estimate team comes out today, can you have it installed by the weekend?"

Until then, she'd just be poking at the corners of her office every so often with that broom she stole from Fosse's closet.

[Open office is open. If cobwebby.]

Current Mood: wary

12/8/2012: Our Miss Jones (Kenzi)
1/19/2013: Not rated for gremlins
1/26/2013: Not freaking at lack of boobs
2/2/2013: No dead people here, only groundhogs (Jake, Phil)
2/23/2013: Hi, Sailor

Vacations at Lake Miniwappo and the occasional well-chaperoned slumber party aside, Beth Dennis was not accustomed to waking up in a bed that wasn't hers. Especially a bed draped in red satin and discarded lingerie (at least a cup size too large and ten shades too black to be hers, oh thank God, and thank God for the jeans and the blue flannel shirt she was wearing, as well) instead of flower-sprigged cotton sheets and a granny-square afghan. Especially a bed she couldn't remember getting into the night before.

In fact, nothing was very clear about the night before. Had she sneaked out to a party with Kyle, and not asked for water instead when somebody passed her a red Solo cup? It wouldn't be the first time, not that she'd ever admit that to her parents who were going to KILL HER, but she'd never drunk enough not-water to forget where she was -- and if her not-allowed-to-have-a-boyfriend had been with her last night, he sure as heck wasn't now.

There was nobody here but Beth, in this... it wasn't even a house. Just a giant room partitioned off by shelves and screens, with huge glass windows and a counter at one end. Was that a cash register on it? Beyond the industrial-style window blinds, the street was narrow, cobblestoned, and completely unfamiliar. Where was she?

Don't panic. You know what to do if you ever get into a bad situation. They might kill you later, but they'll always come pick you up first. They promised.

There was a phone on that counter, and given the circumstances, Beth wasn't about to feel guilty for the long-distance charge.

"Mom?"

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please try again, or dial the area code plus 411 for..."

Stupid fingers. See what freaking out gets you? Long-distance wrong numbers. Beth punched the buttons again, slowly and carefully.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed..."

Maybe now would be a good time to freak out after all.

__

Le Followup:

Max's party
Derek's...appropriated hotel room

[Establishy because fleeeeeing!]

8/11/2012: Impossibly hot fake sisters (Leo and...Bitsy)
8/25/2012: Don't ask about the antlers (Derek Hale, Kenzi)
9/8/2012: Tina is not Bitsy (Guy, Phil Coulson, Carl Kolchak)
9/22/2012: A HORSE. (Bayanai, Kenzi, Kitty, Toby, Tyrion)
9/29/2012: Impossibly not fake sisters (Bitsy)
10/6/2012: Impossibly not getting not fake sisters' numbers (Tiny)
10/8 & 10/14/2012: Fall Break (Mitchell)
10/20/2012: Little people, big milkshakes (Jack Priest, Kenzi, Max Blum, Toby, Savannah, Mike Lane, Laurie Keller)
10/27/2012: Pre-Halloween
11/17/2012: I also do cross-stitch (Jaina, Pinkie Pie, Navaan)

Because I may have underestimated how long it would take. By five or seven hours. And 800 Photoshop layers.

Happy Birthday, FH. You're welcome for the brainbreaky ones.

Yeees, this will take a long time to load.

Me: Oh god save me, I'm only up to summer 2009.
Len: ... what are you doing?
Me: making a rotating icon gif of....almost everything ever
Len: I don't even want to ask why, but that's even crazier than your usual shtick
Me: is for birthday post!
Len: I would like to point you back towards 'that's even crazier than your usual shtick'

(Also, this isn't eeeeeeveryone because of wanting to retain a few remaining brain cells, and our ahahahah lack of character-tracking OCD in early days and human fallibility and and and. If a character got missed, I promise it's not because I hates your face and/or toes.)

Current Mood: predictable

"Okay so yes, I have a giant bathtub and you don't?" Of which Bo had recent mildly saddening reminder. "But I still say the room service makes up for it."

[OOC: for the gentleman in question.]

Bo woke up coughing and clutching her neck, and for a long, kind moment, wondered ~~who~~ what the hell she'd eaten to make her dream about singing to a photo of a middle-aged woman in pink. Wearing pink herself and teaching a class. Ahahahaha. On good decision-making. Ahahahaha. With Deadpool. Ahahahahahahahahahaha. Ha.

Then the rest of it flooded back in, the details rearranging themselves into a clarity and order too raw to be just fragments of a dream. The things she'd done, done so many times in wispy memories from further back that now they'd been as easy as breathing. The thing she'd let herself become.

She didn't quite make it to the bathroom before she discovered the answers to what the hell she'd been eating. In every damn sense of the word, but especially the messy ones.

[For the wee Russian one who did not leave her TARDIS bathrobe in the hotel room.]

Current Mood: crushed

The can is there to hold in the linkspam.

I Love the Smell of Burning Polyester (Kenzi)
Oh Paintball Hell, No
So Long, Man-Candy (Herc)
Welcome Picnic (Kenzi)
...Ratnipples? (Sherlock Holmes, Trick, the Librarian, Yakko Warner)
Not a Pony WHEEEEEEE (Callie, Tyrion, Kitty, the Librarian, Mitchell)
Oh Tiny Ringo, NO. (Tiny)
50 Shades of IMMA CUT U TINY (Kenzi, Loki, the Librarian, Tiny)
Go DUCK piss. (Mitchell)
A Nice Night in Honolulu Heights (Mitchell, George, Nina, and God knows where Annie is)
Angry Olives (Jaina)

Bo's final solution for the sounds coming from her desk had been the cowardly way out, she supposed, but...

Surely sticking a padlock on the drawer and adding three layers of duct-tape just for good measure could be looked at as a humanitarian gesture, despite the fact that neither she nor whateverthehell was in her desk were human?

It wasn't like they could escape from tha--

Oh.

Um. Well, at least it wasn't like Bo was around when the thumping and bumping finally gave way to BANG BAM BOOM RRRRRIP BOING and a seemingly endless stream of
these things

burst out?

So, plausible deniability and all that.

Luckily for the school, the door was shut, the windows were open, and the Protogizkabunny horrors took the path of least resistance as they bounced away.

"You could fit three of me in these pants with room left over for Tiny, Herc, a raging polyester rash and a bachelorette to be named later!"

Today wasn't the first time Bo had worn her staff uniform in public. It was just the first time she'd given in to her hatred for the shin-length Agatha Christie skirt and tried out the pants instead.

Today wasn't the first time she'd bitched out loud about her staff uniform to an empty office, either. It was just the first time she got a reply.

From her desk drawer.

Of snorts, squeaks, thumps, and some sound Bo not only didn't have words for, she didn't want to have words for it.

"Stop that!"

No such luck. It just got louder.

"For Christ's sake, I'm a succubus. You think I don't know what you're doing in there? Cut it out!"

There might as well have been a post-it note attached that said If The File Drawer's Rockin', Don't Bother Knockin'.

"I have a gun!"

She did, and she wasn't afraid to use it. Even on something that looked like a bunny.

Mostly. Bo didn't know what she would do if it clucked at her, so she wasn't opening the drawer just yet.

[OOC: Drawer is closed, door is closed, post is open!]

"Vir-ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha-gin?" (Kenzi)
"I'll Toucha Toucha YOUR FACE." (Tiny)
Prom (Security. RLY.)
"Was your dad a leprechaun?" (Guy, Kenzi, Tyrion, Eric, Derek, Ellie, Vlad, Maria, OJ, Christopher)
"You know you're not supposed to make that sound, right?" (Scott Summers, Guy)
"I try to limit my daily douchebag intake." (Zoe)
[Stuff About My Breasts That I Wasn't There For] (Eric, Tiny)
"At least I got to make out with John Stewart?" (Zoe)

Bo? Waheeeeeeey too ~~unavailable all day SORRY~~ smart not to realize something funky was going on with all the bizarre (REALLY bizarre, and thank Christ that wasn't the one from Kenzi) voicemails she'd received while she was busy ~~cleaning ALL THE THINGS~~ happily drowning in her giant Minoan bath. So she didn't do anything stupid like try to return them.

Instead she just tweeted.

@msbojanglestoyou: Walrus the flock is up with all these volcano marbles? Anybooze knees? #whippedbyfandom

@msbojanglestoyou: EYG? I sang WHO THESE FREAK, not WALLPAPER. Volunteer munchkins? #WHAPPEDbyfundom

@msbojanglestoyou: Ox fear FORK STAKE! Idiot garble underpants!!! #FUMIGATEYOURFURRY!

Sigh.

[Mostly establishy, but totes open for latebreaking twitterfrakkery on the morrow, if you like!]

"I had phone sex with the Portalocity dude, Mitchell." (vaguely NSFWish)
"If the Welsh had ever heard of bundt cake..." (Mitchell, Kate, et al)
Bartending in the dark (Guy, Toby, Cassidy, Raven, Jake, Bruce Banner, Deadpool)
"Nice cock." (Karla, 'Dite)
"A good, healthy flock." (Tyrion, Jake, Jaina, Eric, One Of Those Weekends)
Wearin' o the green. Or not. (Guy, Kenzi)

Saturday's weirdness? It hadn't exactly gone away, but it had died down a bit when Bo hermited herself up in her own place for a few days. Enough that she could talk sanely to insane people and while the delivery guy from Pizza Planet stumbled away muttering about the best tip ever, he was still conscious and vertical at the time, so it counted as a win.

So... maybe it was safe to try venturing out? She had to come into work sometime, after all, and things were still kind of...warm, but not out of control when she stepped out the door into the street.

One walk to school through the oh, so fresh air and twelve sneezes later, she'd found out the answer to that the hard way.

Which was why it was Bo who stumbled now -- out of the janitor's closet.

From behind her came the shuffle-scrape-THUD of someone doing the first three steps of a soft-shoe before giving up and collapsing to the floor with a faint but not unhappy groan.

"Don't you judge me. Don't you DARE judge me!" she stammered defensively to... an empty hallway.

Right. Okay. She'd get to her office eventually, but right now she'd just stay here and hold up this wall for a minute or an hour or two. Until she figured out why, even buzzing with energy as she was now, Bo was still hungry.

--
[OOC: Highly likely to be some flavor of NWS. Expecting two, but open to random encounters of the polleny variety! Though for the sake of not juggling logistics, let's OOCly limit the unexpected to people it's safe to have random polleny encounters with.]

Current Mood: dsadfshtdg

In Which the Devil's Nest is Empty But at Least There Are No Dolls

Finding someone sitting in her chair when she arrived at her office was not exactly the kind of shock that would make Bo drop her coffee or anything.

Spinning the chair around to see not the expected tiny goth chick, but a doll, was...

Still not so much of a shock. Especially given the type of doll it was.

"Hi-laaaaaaaarious, Madrox!" Bo called over her shoulder, poking her head out the open door but seeing only an empty hallway. (Though after last weekend, she supposed there were a number of lightly-teased possible culprits who might want to get a bit of their own back.)

Then the back massage function switched on by itself, Bo turned around to find the chair spinning in circles, and what do you know, she needed to go buy a new coffee.

After she pulled the knife out of her boot and stabbed the thing in the head until it deflated, as you do.
__
[OOC: Establishy. Link is... ahem. INGVAR DOESN'T KNOW WHAT IT'S FOR HE JUST THINKS IT LOOKS PRETTY OK?]

Current Mood: WTF

It was one of those days.

Not one of Those Days, thank God; Bo had two of everything she was supposed to have two of and none of everything she was supposed to have none of and she wasn't singing or standing on a crate to make milkshakes.

It was just one of those days when, three days after finding out the hard way that using Tiny as a barometer of drink-strength was only slightly smarter than kissing a fish, she was sitting in her office, going through her e-mail, and finding out the harder way that no one should let her near a computer on Saturday nights.

"I signed up for what?"

Hi, theboobsthingwasatypo!

Welcome to the best dating site in the multiverse! We know you're anxious to start using the site and checking out our kabillions of active users.

Our matching system is the best in the business...

Facedesk.

[C'est open!]

Current Mood: .....

This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]

Character info of "I very literally copypasta'd this entire thing from the previous time barring this paragraph, including the next one, because it's still accurate." The Bo info in the linked post has been updated a bit due to new canon, though. (The section titled "The Girl in Jossville.")

For the sake of the one actual new player who's arrived since the last time I did one. ;-)

Here on the island:

( The small-town girl in the big wide world: Bo Jones, Townie and Security Officer )
(Is that a fake lj-cut you see before you? Why yes, yes it is.)

Off in the universe:

( The boy next door if you live next door to THE FUTURE: Xander Carson, nee' Harris, Class of 2006 )

( The girl next door if you live next door to Missouri: Francine Peters, Class of 2010 )

( Oh yeah, me. )

Why I Hate Gremlins, By Bo Jones, Age 29 (Jake, Jono, Hercules, Kenzi)
Portalocity ... kind of doesn't suck? (Trick)
Mitchell's Place (...Guess)
Grownup Pyjama Party At Caritas (Kitty, Herc, Jono, Cindy)

Bo had to stand in the doorway and survey the room for a few moments when she first arrived, trying to put her finger on what didn't seem quite right about it, and perfectly ready to take the blame for remembering it wrong herself. Until she noticed how the table with the coffee machine on it next to the copier was now a copier with a coffee machine on it, because the room was a foot shorter on one end.

She rolled her eyes and thumped the toe of her boot against the wall she shared with the janitor's closet. "Nice, Fosse! Real nice!"

Still, eh. In the scheme of things, a foot was a foot and that did mean the coffee pot was closer to her desk, so. Bygones. Bo sat, glanced at the camera feeds to make sure no one was eating anyone they shouldn't be or running for cover, then sank back into her chair, ready to drink that cup of coffee and listen to this morning's radio.

RRRRrrrRRRRRrrrrRRRRRRR.

"The hell?!!?" It was a good thing these particular leather pants were wax-treated, or she'd be going with a bit more bleeped-for-syndication-on-SyFy language as she wiped off the coffee. With narrowed eyes, Bo gingerly sat down again.

RRRRrrrRRRRRrrrrRRRRRRR.

Uh....huh. Five minutes later, after a long examination of every item in the office, just in case...

@msbojanglestoyou: @PerkiGoth Did you BY ANY CHANCE remember my office chair with a vibro-massage function?

[OOC: In your face, Skywalker! ...also, open.]

"Oh look, there's a ceiling."

Because, you know, yesterday, there hadn't been.

There hadn't been a Mitchell, either.

The math here will not be left as an exercise for the student, though Kenzi will undoubtedly do it anyway.

[OOC: For the resident!]

Current Mood: relieved

Current Mood: relieved

Jeff, God of Biscuits (Auditors)
Town Hall Meeting (Kenzi)
Last Stand? (Kenzi, Auditor)
Heading into Special Collections
News
A Trip to Fantasia (Anakin, Karla, Kenzi, Bel, Surreal, Columbus, Jon, Jono, Alex, Goose, Jack Priest)
Remembering the Everything

Infodumpery

IC Comms

OOC Comms

Note

In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game Fandom High, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the creator(s) of the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image. Lost Girl images and characters belong to Showcase and are used without permission or profit, for personal entertainment only.

Navigation

Recent Entries

Infodumpery

IC Comms

OOC Comms

Note