October 28th, 2003


I am not a patient woman

LJ is making me nuts. I've tried to respond to no fewer than 8 posts over the last day or so, including responses to my last one, and a neat one from elsaf about souls and hell and Angel and Spike, but none of them show up. Some folks are getting the multipost demons, I've got the post eating ones.

I am currently playing phone tag with recruiter. She has a counteroffer for me, but my stupid cell phone isn't working inside the building today. And it's cold and rainy outside. Ugh.

I absolutely insist, right now, today, stomp-foot, that the idiots at RCA obtain some decent songs for Clay Aiken. I am officially obsessed with this cd, for the small moments when his voice hits that low growly note that makes my innards twist in a remarkably pleasant way. But the music and songs basically stink. Somebody get that boy back to Neil Sedaka or Burt Bacharach, or, dare I say it? Barry Manilow. I need to hear that voice in its unadulterated state, not filtered through somebody's idea of teenybopper pop boyband crap.

And hey! Try this on for size: Collapse )


Well, I still seem unable to respond to comments in my own journal, but thanks to everybody for all the fun reading! I wrote, back, really I did.

The only thing of any significance in those replies, though:

It was a good offer. I'm going to take it. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

(oh! And Kita: It never even *crossed* my mind that Angel would or should choose differently in Home... I'd do it in a heartbeat, too. I want to wring ME's collective neck for it, of course, but...yep. I'd do it, and worse.)