I ... want a lot.

Last night I had a dream where cidercupcakes had written a novel that could basically be boiled down to "Napoleonic Wars meet Mr & Mrs Smith". It was pretty awesome -- competent married Regency spies wooo! -- and now that I have woken up I am kind of bummed it doesn't exist.

In the comments to the last entry I was telling kristiinthedark about how I was thinking about Ray and Fraser in a blackout. It would be while they're busy doing something, maybe for a case, examining some large and busy room or something. The lights go out, it's pitch black, Ray is twitchy and keeps moving around, bumping into things and cursing, until Fraser tells him to quit and stay in one place. Which Ray is probably bitchy about, but he stays still anyway, and Fraser asks him to keep talking, so he can find him by the sound of his voice (like Marco Polo). So Ray is standing still all alone in the pitch black and forced to just keep talking to himself about stupid things, until Fraser finds him, and that shuts him up because Fraser's right in front of him, so close you can feel the heat of his body and his breath. And then THEY KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, in the dark, and it is awesome until the lights suddenly go back on again, and then they pull apart and are awkward and stupid and pretend for days/weeks that it never happened and don't talk about it at all.

Sigh. Booooooys.

In news that will shock absolutely no one, Paul Gross is still distgustingly attractive. Um, ignore the last one, though. Stick to the candids of "my god."

I spent an unhealthy amount of time yesterday looking through Amazon.com and making lists of all the dvds I would need once I was filthy stinking rich and things like food, rents, and debt were not an issue. Heroes! Arrested Development s3! How I Met Your Mother! Grey's s3! Deadwood! Rome! Doctor Who! NCIS! Joan of Arcadia! Newsradio! I want it all. Is that so wrong?

It's too hot for September, and I'm really really excited about my Latin textbook coming in the mail.