How many weeks have gone by since I've been back in town, and what exactly do I have to show for it? How long has it been since I found out that Angel was now working for Wolfram and Hart, and why haven't I faced him, confronted him like I initially planned ( Read more... )

I straightened out my outfit for only the fiftieth time that second and took a look at the mirror I'd bought for Angel's penthouse ( Read more... )

After the quasi-incident with Xander, I was feeling the definite urge to party. It was a costume party. I generally had a difficult time with costumes, seeing how last halloween everyone secretly mocked my costume. I knew they did. But now, I was so prepared to dazzle tonight in my costume. As a sexy bumblebee . Come on! Bumblebees can be sexy. The ( Read more... )

It was a party. I was very excited. Expecially since it was my first day of work and all. Things seemed to be going really well so far, and now I got to dress up in a costume, and head to what would probably be the best party I've ever been to before. I hope that every week will be like this, I thought to myself, while wearing my costume. I was ( Read more... )

Things were really bad. When Vi and I arrived at the house, after walking for what seemed like forever, we were the only ones in the apartment. Chloe wasn't even there. Both of us were hurt so bad, and didn't know what to do, so I did what I was dreading. I called the number on our counter, the Wolfram and Hart emergency number. Someone answered ( Read more... )

Yanno wha'? Readin' hasn't ever been one of my strong points. Actually, nothin' ever has acdemic wise. So, readin' this invite to a par-tah, which by the way, so fuckin' needed with all these prissy stuck-up bitches with stakes rammed so far up their asses, they can't see the light of day...um, okay, ow. Head hurts. Way too much of the Jack Daniel' ( Read more... )

( Finding clothes, a Boo, and..a costume? )

HELLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO PART-AY ( Read more... )

( Party Time? )

The Killers (who rumor had it were Lorne's discovery) were blasting through the speakers as I shook my little potential booty out on the dance floor. Jay, one of the mail room boys, was dancing with me. He was in fact, the same guy that I had thrown my heel at on the day of the "Wyndham-Pryce Incident." Somehow, the throwing of footwear had him ( Read more... )