silveryscrape (silveryscrape) wrote,
silveryscrape
silveryscrape

I have written many posts! And erased them! I don't know why.

I wrote one on the sadness of my job and how it's contrarily not really that sad at all, but I couldn't say why, so it just sounded... sad. But it's not. Um. Binned, for lack of words.

I wrote another on my new ghost hunt, but I don't really know any of the details yet, so it turned into a rumination on the appropriate contrariness of having that hobby with this job, and you know. Sad. Binned.

I wrote another about JCAHO and how it's turning us all into humorless hosebags, the worst kind, and how when they finally show up I'm going to let out a screech and rush them. Which may be tomorrow, as the underground has it they are at another FL Hosp campus right now... but anyway. Binned.

And another about how my worthy opponent professor never did answer my last email, in which I said we'd just have to disagree on the definitions of unprofessional and discourteous. But she has suddenly out of nowhere posted a note to say that prof so-n-so is taking over the class. Huh. Much evil speculation that did not show my better side, binned.

This version started out with much glee about JC and Justin and my JuC Day story, which DUH also features Chris, and Joey and Lance, because, you know. But I've been distracted thinking about how the best part of the fitting for Iman was that Dan got to meet David Bowie, his hero, and David took a liking to him and starting dragging him out to parties, and at one of them he saw this amazing guy waving his hands in the air and laughing with his whole body, except he was turned slightly away from whoever he was talking to, some model. Daniel was intrigued, partly because he did love a challenge like that, and partly because the guy looked like he'd look FANTASTIC in, like, tight shiny slutty clothing, but he was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt... okay, binned. Daniel V. would know who JC is, right?? Ahahaha! But the pairing sure is fun to contemplate. Mmm, contemplation.

It's a warm night, and there's an owl over somewhere on the other shore. Mal is quivering, hunched at the edge of the balconey. Right! JuC it is.
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