It wasn't all in my head...

So. I bit the bullet (hey, even *I* have trouble keeping 340 files straight), and started organizing my unfinished fic files...

And found that I don't remember what half of them are.

So, had to open some. And discovered I no longer have notepad. Normally, not a problem, since I use Yikes for everything anyway. But when I opened a few files in Yikes... I discovered some of them contained binary that hadn't been there before--and were missing pieces of themselves.

My brain clicked into action, and I prodded the redoubtable Foe. Who suggested the possibility of a virus.

Well, when I got this computer, it came with McAfee virus scan.

Which, apparently, sucked a lot of ass.

I now have AVG, and it's killed 7 viruses for me. I'm a happy person.

Especially happy, since the files are now no longer corrupted. And I still have all the text in them.

So, repeat after me: McAfee sucks ass.

MCAFEE SUCKS ASS.

Thank you.

In other news, I should probably sleep soon.

Reasons to get up...

Your stomach is growling. This, you can ignore.

The cat is demanding attention, food, playtime. This, you can also ignore, although there could be claws involved.

Rob Levy replaces Jack O'Neill in your dream. Suddenly, you should be veryveryvery grateful that you don't normally dream porn with Jack in it. Because the possibility that Rob Levy could replace him in *those* dreams has now scared you enough that you MIGHT not sleep for an entire week.

At least this was a telephone conversation. And, when Rob said, "Hi, lady I haven't seen in a while." or something to that effect, I said, "Hi, complete bastard who I don't wanna talk to. Put Jack back on."

Damn you, Kris.

Why did I have to have stupid fucking Rob Levy appear in my dreams?

*snicker*

Had to stick this up. Going through these old fic files is... amusing.

Random spammy paragraphs...

"John keeping sane is like a bastardisation of the Myth of Sisyphus. Of course, John's sanity is the rock that keeps rolling down the hill. Except with John, he pushes it to the top, it rolls back down, and it shatters."

He's always liked the rain. Oh, it's a cliche, certainly. The angsting hero always needs the soul-searing destructive power of the rain to cleanse his soul. And his soul, more than others, could certainly do with a spring cleaning. Cordy had once suggested Spik'n'Span. Most people don't think about the calming effects of a hundred thousands tons of water sluicing over your body in particle-droplet form. Or maybe they're too uptight to understand why Gene Kelly loved it.

Creegan/Taylor:
"I did once want to be a baker."
"You can't even cook."
"How do you know?"
"Well--"
"Dinner. Tonight. My flat."
"Maybe."

Also, have found some strange original stuff I don't remember writing. Or, I remember it vaguely, but have *no* clue where it was going...

And bad limericks.

There once was a merc named Dom
Who was lucky a lot with aplomb
She knew a Messiah
Who thought she was fine-ah
He tended to blow her up with a bomb

And Buffy: the Musical! (never to be finished) leaves me with these immortal lines...

ANGEL
Angst
It's what I'm here for
Angst
It's my modus operandi
Angst
It's my immortal forte
Angst
I can't stop doing it

....hrm. Not giving up my day job.