likesthecoat: (Default)
On its way from the nearest pharmacy to Sam's hotel--and Ianto found a place that would deliver for the right sum a lot easier than he thought he would--is the following delivery:

  • cold and flu medicine
  • cough drops
  • Kleenex
  • an ice pack
  • a heating pad
  • microwavable chicken soup
  • juice boxes
  • single-serving boxes of cold cereal
  • milk
  • fruit snacks
  • Pop Tarts

and a card with the dictated message, "I hope this is comfort food for you. Sleep well. Ianto."


Dec. 15th, 2007 09:44 pm
likesthecoat: (peace comes from within)
[Private Entry]

It's all too much, these last few days.

I refuse to believe we've lost our chance at happiness, but I don't see much hope in our immediate future. I don't want Lorne to retire for me, but that will mean waiting until he's at the retirement age. Twenty-five years of waiting and hoping and a few days here, a week or two there.

I'll be fifty.

Mum is so worried. She's been hovering over me all day. Now we know where I get it from.

Euan wants to go out for a beer but I don't want to face a pub. I want to get back to Cardiff. I'm needed there.

It's a terrible week when the best thing I can say is "at least no one's dead."
likesthecoat: (regrets)
[Filtered to friends]

Edit: Sam, everything I say here still stands. I'm glad to see you're all right.

That first night Sam visited me we went to one of my favorite pubs, where the staff loved him for trying to speak Welsh (emphasis on trying) and any number of girls tried to chat him up, and we both drank too much and he giggled at me quite a bit.

(There was also some indiscriminate kissing. On my part.)

He was a big, silly, clever, brilliant man and it hurts to think of never speaking to him again. Edit: Thank God that's no longer an issue.

I miss Lorne so much my body aches.

I'm taking the train to Swansea later, to fetch my car from my parents and spend the weekend with somebody who'll coddle me. It's hard to say who's more disappointed right now, them or me. They thought I was finally moving on from losing Lisa; I thought I was starting a new life. I think I have moved on, but not in a way I can really explain to them.

At least I'll be seeing Martha later. Perhaps Jack as well.
likesthecoat: (because it is my heart)
[Filtered to Dean]

Dean, I'm so, so sorry. I can't even say how much. I'll miss him terribly.

[Filtered to Lorne]

They're not letting me go to Atlantis.

O'Neill called me into his office about half an hour ago and told me I failed the psych evaluation. He said I show a tendency towards OCD. I said yes, I put that on my application but I also put that it's under control. He said no, the psych eval said it's not and they can't accept me.

I told him that was bullshit and he said he's sorry but that's the rules. They're giving me an hour to pack and say goodbye to people and tell whoever needs telling that I'm coming home, and now there's that note from Dean about Sam, and I . . . god, I need you so much.

I don't know what to think. To have come this far and be turned away at the last minute, and for such a flimsy reason . . . I hate to sound paranoid but there has to be something more. I can't help but think this has something to do with Saxon and everything that went on yesterday, that they think I'm some kind of spy for him or something and are just using the OCD as an excuse. God, I don't know.

Devastated doesn't even begin to describe it.

I guess I'm going home. At least I still have the flat. I just . . . everything we hoped for, everything we dreamed of, gone, just like that.

[Filtered to Jack]

There's been a sudden change of plans and I find myself out of a job. I understand you're short one secretary. Shall I send you a C.V.?
likesthecoat: (earthrise)
[Filtered to Near and Sam]

Last night I told Lorne I love him. Well, what I said was "I think I love you" which is probably not what most people dream of hearing, but it's also the truth.

His response was less than heartening.

I think I could have reacted better; but as it was I was too embaressed to stick around any further and cut off the conversation, and then rang Jack, because what's better when you feel rejected than someone who'll never say no to you.

(Though to be fair Lorne didn't say he'd never love me--he just said he wasn't sure yet. Still. Not what somebody wants to hear back.)

Either way, I'm using Jack terribly though I doubt he minds that much. And now I have to wonder how I'm going to speak to Lorne again, having this between us.

In sum, this relationship thing sucks and I'm terrible at it. I even had a good long conversation with Martha over the weekend about my harem and she thinks Jack would be better for me as he's actually here, and . . . I wish somebody would just tell me "this person is right for you."

Of course, nobody knows that, do they? Not for other people, at any rate, and not always for themselves.

So. How are you?
likesthecoat: (cheaper than prozac)
I thought no one of my acquaintance was diabolical enough to get me into a speedo.

Alone, they are not. Combined is another story.

(My friends are strange. But I like them. I think I'll keep them.)

oh, my head

Jul. 1st, 2007 07:54 am
likesthecoat: (blackadder oh god)
Fortunately I have all the ingredients for my never-fail hangover cure on hand, since this was intended to be a weekend of drunken debauchery.

Still. Didn't think it would get quite so drunken as it did.

Sam is a delightful guest, by the way, and he actually wore the kickass corsage all day (even though I got it mostly as a joke, but hey, why not see the joke through to the end if you're that type of bloke). Also made a brave attempt at speaking Welsh at Y Mochyn Du, which won him some phone numbers the grudging respect of the clientèle.

Playing video games probably would have been a better idea before the pub crawl rather than after. My score in Silent Hill was horrible. And he may have kicked my arse at Guitar Hero but I kicked his at Dance Dance Revolution. We also broke in my Wii, which I haven't had a chance to play much since I got it, and all I can say about that is thank God for the wristbands or there would have been flying controllers all over the place.

We'll be getting on the train to Winchester to meet up with Near and Matt in a few hours. Gentlemen, we'll be the tall blokes wearing sunglasses and grumbling.

Also, Sam says to tell you all hello, Welsh beer is not as good as Dutch beer and he has photographic evidence of my capacity for evil.

surely he can't mean this. )

Voice post

Jun. 30th, 2007 09:42 pm
likesthecoat: (hand porn)
[Voice post]
"Hi, this is Sam! I'm posting to Ianto's journal! I'm having a great time in Cardiff and I totally kicked Ianto's ass at Guitar Hero. And Lorrrrne . . . Lornie, we're drunk and talking about you and--"

[sounds of scuffling, laughter]

"Hi, this is Ianto and don't believe a word Sam says. He lies. He's a big overgrown liar with a terrible grasp of Welsh--"


[more sounds of scuffling]

"This is Sam again and Ianto's a complete and total wuss who listens to chick rock while he cries about--"

"You wore my corsage all day!"

"You bought me the corsage! Lorne, you should be here so Ianto stops--"

[more laughing, dial tone]
likesthecoat: (latte)
Have fetched Sam from the train and am going to give him the tour of Cardiff as soon as he's ready to be a tourist.

He loved the corsage.
likesthecoat: (beatles)
For those of you concerned about Sam's whereabouts, he just phoned: he won't be making it to Cardiff after all but will be going straight back to Amsterdam.

I can work late tonight after all, sir.
likesthecoat: (in these stones horizons sing)
[Private Entry]

Someone to get drunk and just be a bloke with sounds perfect.

I may jump on Jack as soon as Sam's gone, though.

Edit: It's ridiculous for me to get envious, right? Right.

Repeat until you believe it, Ifan.


likesthecoat: (Default)

July 2012

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