Oh. By the way? Happy Halloween.

Y'know, I really didn't want my first entry in weeks to be about Buffy, but I'm just too busy these days to make anything resembling coherent journal entries, and like Terrence said, I should really just blog this stuff myself instead of e-mailing the links to him.

There's a new musical promo. This one's 60 seconds long, you get a Tara solo, another ensemble song, more of Spike's solo, and lots of tension between Spike & Buffy. Guess which part's got me the most jazzed? You can pick it (and all the other promos) up from the lovely godam.

I am way too giddy over Buffy: The Musical. My level of excitement frightens even me.

I just finished talking to a couple of sherrif's deputies. I've been home by myself all evening. My mom's dog, Jake (who is half lab, half chow and looks much more menacing than he actually is, which is to say, he's not) was outside barking his head off at something. I figured, wild animal. I got him to come inside, and he immediately ran to my mom's room to look out the window on the same side of the house where he'd been barking earlier. I went to look, still thinking wild animal, possibly a big wildcat of some sort, and he was whining and shivering, scared out of his mind. So I went out to the garage and turned on the light to the side yard, in the hopes that the light would scare whatever it was away. I go back to the window where he's barking, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was out there, and I see a freaking man's shadow go across the little porch that comes off of our garage.

So now I'm thinking about a story a friend told me about her dog freaking out and waking her up in the middle of the night to find that her psycho neighbor had broken into her apartment for nefarious reasons, and I run to the laundry room, and hear the automatic garage door open outside, but no vehicles driving in, so it's definitely not my mom getting home. Then somebody tries the doorknob. It's locked, of course, because I am a paranoid scaredy-cat and I lock every single lock there is to lock when I'm home by myself. I scream at the top of my lungs, "Who's there?!" Nobody answers. I scream it again, and still nobody answers, though I can clearly hear somebody moving around in the garage. So I run and grab the phone, and take it back to the laundry room, and as I'm dialing I scream out, "I'm calling 911!"

No sooner do I hit the last one than my brother calls back, "Jeanie, it's me!" So I immediately hang up the phone, thinking the call didn't go through, unlock the door, scream at him for scaring the shit out of me, explain *why* he scared the shit out of me (he said he heard me yell the first couple of times, but he didn't understand what I said -- I seriously think his hearing's starting to go -- and thought I was yelling at the dog to quit barking, so he didn't say anything. So the phone rings, and it's the 911 dispatcher tracing the call. I explain to her what happened, and I'm embarrassed as hell, and she says no problem, I hang up, and my brother and I have a good laugh. Then the phone rings again, and the 911 dispatcher says it's mandatory for them to come check it out whenever somebody calls 911 and hangs up. Which is actually pretty comforting.

Good thing it wasn't a real emergency, though, because it took them about 45 minutes to show up, and before they did the dispatcher called back again to get directions to our house, even though since they made us change out our addresses from rural route to street addresses a couple of years ago they're supposed to have all that stuff on record already. Turns out they still had us on record as living at our old house, hence the trouble finding us. So thank God nobody was actually trying to break in to my house, because they would have arrived much too late to help me, if in fact they arrived at the right location at all.

Terrence has begun to keep a Buffy review blog, taking up the slack by providing the well thought out and substantial fan reviews that I wish I still had time to do myself. They're very good so far. And I'm not just saying that because he called me a font of Buffy knowledge.

So. This week's Buffy? I want to marry it and have its children. Better yet, I want to marry Spike and have his children, but seeing as how he's both fictional and a vampire, I don't see that happening. I guess it's about as likely as a union with a television episode though, isn't it? Huh.

Anyway.

Spike is SO Buffy's boyfriend now. HEE!

Looks like my favorite 'ship is setting sail ...

It's in the forties outside, and cloudy and gray. It's a perfect day to curl up and read something that doesn't have anything to do with school, or to sit here and write; but I promised myself that today would be a cleaning day. And I really do have to clean. I haven't cleaned thoroughly in months, and right now the place is an absolute pit. Though, I'm wondering what good it will do, because the main reason it's such a pit is because of Nibblet.

She's going on five months old. She's not an adoreable little baby kitty anymore, she's a smallish, super high-strung, destructive cat. Man, does she ever piss me off. I just noticed a lamp lying on the floor across the room. I never heard it fall, so she must have knocked that off while I slept. I can't tell from here whether it's broken. She can get up on all of the top shelves now, so nothing is safe. I'll clean, but I'm sure she'll have the place all torn up again in the space of a day.

I just realized that I've never raised a pet from infancy before. Looking back, the youngest I've ever gotten a pet was eight months old. That was my black lab, Nicki. There were some chewing issues, but other than that, she was already pretty well behaved. At least, as far as I remember. I was only 10 when I got her, so it's not like I had to be responsible for if she wasn't. Man, I miss Nicki. Excuse me. I have something in my eye ...

Anyway. I love my kitten, and I'm sure she'll turn out to be a great cat, but I'll be so, SO happy when she grows past this destruct-o-rama phase. I had no idea that a single little furball could be such a pain in the ass. She does have her moments, though. Though I'm sure Vanilla would beg to differ.

As long as I'm on about my pets (don't you just love when bloggers ramble on about their pets?), Fizzgigg went to the groomer for the first time yesterday, and came back looking very much like a poodle. I actually think he looks cutest when he's all shaggy and unkempt and bears some actual resemblance to the original Fizzgigg. Now he looks like he should be called Pierre or something sufficiently snooty and frou-frou. The poodle cut just doesn't suit his personality. Because despite being a poodle, he really is a very cool little dog. At least she gave him a puppy cut and not one of those God-awful pompon hairdos. It's starting to grow on me, though. He's actually pretty cute. Though he'll be cuter when the hair on his face grows back in and he starts to look all shaggy again.

All righty. I'm off to clean, then to beta other people's fic, then maybe I'll work on some of my own. I refuse to do any schoolwork today. I'm in desperate need of a break from that, even though I suppose I really should sieze the opportunity to get ahead so I won't have to cram again like I did this past week. I'm pretty sure I did well on yesterday's Abnormal Psych test, by the way. Still don't know how I did on the Research Methods test, but I have a bad feeling about that one, especially since it counts for almost half of my grade in that class. I'm not going to worry about it today, though.

Um, yeah. So. Buffy's back.

From the standpoint of both a Buffy & Spike 'shipper and a Spike redemptionist, let me just say:

Hee hee hee hee HEE HEE HEEE!!!

Other than that, I'm too incoherent for a review. 'Sides, I have to go rewind it and watch it again. I might have to do that a couple times before I can remember the parts that didn't have Spike in them.

Speaking of James Marsters ... leather pants!!!

I don't have time to blog about last night's Angel, but I would just like to say that Charisma Carpentar has officially joined James Marsters at the top of my list of the most underappreciated actors in series television.

My poem Pretty was selected for inclusion on a spoken word poetry anthology CD: The Sounds of Poetry. It's supposed to be in bookstores by the end of the year. Whee!

I'm studying. The Elements of Social Scientific Thinking. That's all I did all weekend, and it's all I get to do today (hopefully I'll get to spare an hour to watch Angel). Midterm's tomorrow, and it counts for about 40% of my grade. How wrong is it that I have to take such a major test on the first New Buffy day of the season?

I forgot that school's, like, hard and stuff.