Zamira Gulch

May the best woman win.

You'd think that interviewing a gang of broom thugs with lime green mohawks and dreds would be more exciting.

That's not to say that it wasn't interesting. Apparently T-Bone is a quilter, and Raz plays the guitar and does puppet shows for under-privileged children. It definitely wasn't what I expected.

A Public Service Announcement to precocious muggleborn children who think it's funny to point wands at people and yell Abracadabra: It's not funny, it's not going to earn you friends, and if you do that to me again I will snap your newly perchance wand and break your nose.

I remember Bert Brown did this article a few years ago about group of healers who would do voluntary psychological obliviations to help people who'd suffered extreme trauma. They ended up getting arrested for it -- it got too invasive and they ended up messing with things the people hadn't specifically requested to have removed, and I'm not even sure if the actual act itself, permission or not, is/was considered legal.

I think it might have its merits but I think that knowing that you'd given permission to have it done. That, and if you didn't have the constant reminder that you'd lost time. I'm also pretty sure those people didn't just dump people off near rubbish bins in alleys, either, so they get a few more points in the credibility department.

I want my sandwich back, assholes.

Ran into Howie Coopey earlier today and am totally sticking my foot in my mouth over everything I ever said about him back in school. Oh good god it is not fair that he grew up to be so attractive.

[Warded to Dorcas]

I couldn't help but notice you sort of accusing Leo Yaxley of being a Death Eater. Is it true and is there proof?

[/Dorcas]

I don't understand. I have nothing left in my stomach to lose.

I want to say that it makes me sad that there are all these people bent on making sure that people never manage to to reach an age where they can partake in an afternoon like this, and make pictures like this possible. There has been so much unnecessary death lately, but I thought it was sweet that these two old folks managed to carry on and love each other and go on walks by the shore and such.

And then I found out the couple in the photo weren't actually married at all. They were modeling for a deodorant ad.

I remain a skeptic, and have returned to my thought process that people only claim to be in "love" to get people they think are hot in bed.

I think this past week has been an excellent lesson in "if you can't say something nice, it's best not to say anything at all."

( Private )

I do have to say, Ministry, that your temporary holding cells are much nicer than muggle ones were this weekend. No heating charms, only one phone call although there were three of us, and we spent the entire night getting hit on through the bars by ugly bald biker guys named Skip and Bubba. Who in god's name names their children Skip and Bubba?

[Private]

I wish that the headline "Death Eater Fire Leaves Godric's Hollow Hot and Bothered" wouldn't've been shot down by the editors. Sucks that the first time I get a featured story has to be about something like this, but this is huge. This is going to go down in history and I'm going to be the one who broke the news.

Let's see them stick me on a story about cheese sculptors again after this.

[/Private]

My greatest sympathies to anyone who was affected by last night's tragedy. I know after the Canterbury attack that having something like that tear through a place you call home is never easy.

I think one of the most fascinating things in the world to do is to go out to a restaurant by yourself with a notepad and listen in on other people's conversations. Yeah yeah, I know. Eavesdropping is rude. That conversation is private. But if it's taking place in a public place, it's really not. It's sort of fascinating to listen to what people talk about when they don't think anyone's listening.

For example, there is an elderly couple sitting in the booth behind me who are "trying new things" in bed, which while I don't want to picture that at all, I say good for them. Keep the romance alive, Edwin and Muriel. There are three teenage (and I assume muggle) blokes at the booth in front of me who I am pretty sure are discussing their adventures as trolls and elves and wizards in the playing-pretend sense. Apparently the one who calls himself Igor has amazing dexterity. I am fascinated.

I am so incredibly relived that i didn't have to work this morning. All I remember about last night was leaving the pub on a motorcycle and waking up in Wales. I never ever want to wake up in Wales again.

Need to find out what in god's name happened to David last night, that asshole. Everybody else make it to 1979 in one piece?

That's not where you're supposed to put the carrot on a snowman...

All this time off work would be great if I wasn't completely doped up on pain medication and was actually able to be productive with my life. Early holiday vacation, I guess.

I need excuses for why I look like I was hit by a bus for when we have Christmas with mum's relatives. I can't use the bus excuse again. I thought about saying I was running and fell onto a display of upwards-pointing scissors, but I'm not that klutzy. Maybe acupuncture going terribly wrong. I have no idea.

You enter a restroom with three stalls: the one closest to the door, the middle one, and the handicapped one. All are empty. Which one do you choose to use?

Frankly, I would suspect that several of the people responsible for presiding over the trial conveniently going missing should almost count as newly discovered evidence in and of itself, but that's just my biased and off-the-record opinion.

With that said, I have to go interview a woman who knits sweaters for hairless cats.

( If she weren't writing in blood // she'd bring him her jokes // a new liver // and a shovel for the mud // If he were not knee-deep in mud // he'd bring her his drugs // He'd get her a typewriter  )