kittydesade | Jul. 28th, 2009

Jul. 28th, 2009

... My kitchen still smells of Moroccan chicken. Awesome.

Right. Dreams about John Winchester on a hunt? Kind of oddly hot, in a lumpy and fuzzy sort of a way.

Dreams about John Winchester meeting me and my crazy family at a restaurant to talk to me about said hunt? Hysterical. Anything involving John Winchester meeting my family is hysterical.

Dreams about me, John Winchester, my siblings, and a woman with her four or five year old girl on her lap with NO EYE and a flap of skin hanging down from her FACE because she thought playing with and petting the already cranky leopard was a GOOD IDEA, and now John is driving her to the HOSPITAL? NOT COOL, BRAIN. NOT COOL.

Not even sure that qualifies as a nightmare, just. What the hell.

Russian. And I slogged my way through more of the Kitty Norville book. It took me three or four days to reach page 27 on a paperback, that should tell you how much it doesn't mean to me. Mostly I'm reading it between shower and brushing teeth, things like that. It's not a bad concept? It's just... she writes so... mediocre. Verging on bad, except bad would be interesting. And it's not interesting.

When Laurell K Hamilton writes sensual better than you do, you're doing something wrong.

Also, they boned Riddick when they made him the last survivor of a badass race and the foretold one and so on. They really did. He was much, much cooler when he was just a scaryass guy.

( Russian )

On the list of people I will meet at Dragon*Con:

Tom Felton.

This amuses me to no end.

Oh, and Michael Shanks, Joe Flanigan, Leonard Nimoy, Peter Beagle, Bruce Boxleitner, Virginia Hey, and, um. Squirrels. Will also be there.