Eating a cup of Yakisoba noodles because I forgot to eat dinner and now I’m hungry. (I thought I had dinner, but I just realized I actually only ate a cinnamon roll–a wrong order, I wanted a cinnamon swirl–and brewed coffee.)
And because I miss Spike.
BUFFY: What are you doing here? Five words or less.
SPIKE: (counting the words on his fingers) Out. For. A. Walk … Bitch.
The only kind of verbal abuse that was well-deserved and damn hilarious.
Every other vamp guy that came after him (and that includes Eric Northman) pales in comparison, actually. He was just so entertaining. And pathetic. And straightforward. And mean. And hopelessly devoted. And pretty much the bad boy of one’s dreams (aka a figment of the-fangirl-in-Joss-Whedon’s overheated imagination).
Oh ’90s. You were such a swell decade. Cheers! (*with water, ‘coz I’m too lazy to go down and uncork anything, and really, what for?)