Augh!
It is a very sad thing when you finally make the cake you've been craving, but then realize that you had enough of the batter and frosting that when you've finished frosting the cake, you don't want any. XD
It's also sad when the cake kinda, uh, falls apart between pan and plate and when you try to fix it with frosting it only gets worse. Oops.
In other news, I had some really freaking weird dreams before I finally got up. It kept going between semi-post-apocalyptic and modern. Harry Potter was there, and he had very depressing sex with a lot of people. Hermione Granger was also there, working with Harry on...something to do with the post-apocalyptic stuff...but she also had a lot of sex with this one guy with very pale coloring who was apparently Irish. I think he might have slipped into a Russian accent at times, but he kept being referred to as 'the Irishman' so...whatevs; he also was very frustrated with Harry, and I don't remember why except maybe that he kept walking in and interrupting the sex.
Then Harry went to an airport to fly somewhere (and it was nice and modern and clean) and Draco Malfoy was there and wanted to help him but Harry was all sad and I-don't-deserve-love-and-am-a-manwhore-now. There was lots of hurt/comfort going on there. I think Draco got him to agree to be better to himself and give Draco a chance, and then Harry got on his flight. It was odd, because the plane had all of two columns of seats and a ridiculously small number of rows. One of the columns had bench-seats that had seatbelts for three, but I don't think I could have fit three of my tiny arse in those things. Two, possibly, even possibly comfortably. Three? No. The other column switched from those to having a single seat about halfway down the plane. There was no first class/business class, and the seats furthest to the front were right directly behind the pilots' seats. Harry took the very front in the single-seat column. One of the pilot's turned around and began chatting with Harry and a woman in the second or third row of the bench-seats. I think it was supposed to be a packed flight. He asked Harry why he chose to sit in the seat alone, and did he really want to be alone on Christmas Eve (which, apparently, it was)? Harry was quiet and a bit morose there. I think I sorta have post-sleep injected that no, he wanted a Draco on his lap, but I'm okay with this development. *g*
Then back in the airport, a group of people got caught in this weird patch of space that they couldn't get out of. They kinda realized that they couldn't get out of it when the invisible walls kept pushing them back in when they tried to walk away. Something other than being stuck there scared them, though I've forgotten what (psycho killer and monsters come to mind, but I'm not sure if that's in-dream-canon or post-dream-creativity there). Anywho, people got desperate to get out, and it focused in on one guy who managed to figure out that if he shuffled his feet slowly he could push through the wall a little, and if he tried hard enough he could get through. He finally did, but once out he wasn't able to lift his legs right. He had to shuffle forward like on snow-skis, but it was really difficult, like he was walking through something thick with really heavy legs. After he'd gotten a fair distance (he didn't want to chance getting sucked back in), he turned his head to look back. All the people in the space he'd been in were gone, except Christopher Walken (who had also been in there) was standing there looking crazy-angry and holding a weedwacker. I think he shout-snarled out some cult-religious stuff about infidels and dream-guy knew that he was going to come after anyone who escaped the space. At that point, he somehow knew that some of the others had gotten out too, and off to his right was a woman in a skirtsuit doing the same awkward walk as him, trying to get away.
He knew he couldn't run, but he tried to shuffle as quickly as possible without making it apparent in the way he moved. He figured that the crazy guy would come after him because of that walk. About that time I became aware that he sort of resembled Chris Farley in appearance - though 30's-40's - and was wearing a grey suit. I think he thought something about a wife, but I don't recall entirely. Walken-crazy started to walk forward in starts and stops while revving his weedwacker, as if not certain what direction to go, but threatening everyone around him. There were a few people that screamed and ran, but there was a lot more who just paid him no mind, and the bystander apathy was pretty palpable.
Farley-guy finally decided that running away wasn't going to work, so hiding would be best. He ducked into the first shop he saw, that strangely went back and forth between an upscale men's clothing store and a snooty restaurant. The maitre d'/head sales clerk was a snooty old guy who couldn't seem to fathom why Farley-guy was trying to get in and trying to hide in a corner (against the wall-glass, which I recall thinking was stupid of him) behind a plant. Walken-crazy found him, snooty-guy kept trying to indignantly question why they were there and getting frustrated because they were both ignoring him. Farley-guy tried to duck and curl up into a ball, crying and screaming like a little girl, while Walken-crazy kept trying to slash at him with the weedwacker, but it kept getting caught on the plant and tangling instead.
That was about when I got tired of my alarm going off every five minutes, and seeing no way to salvage the already FUBARed dream, I made myself stay awake after shutting the alarm off instead of slipping back to sleep again. Oh, yeah, through that whole dream I kept waking up to hit the snooze button and then tumbling back to sleep. Then I heard a weird scritching noise and went into ohmygodpleasedon'tletthatbearoach mode, but it was just my fan. But then I was awake.
...And then I got out my laptop and started writing a rather depressing Harry Potter fanfic that I am scrabbling for ideas on how to make it get to a happy ending without dragging it out for forever. I probably will make it drag out, though. *sigh* The first bit of it is spectacularly artistic with the imagery, and I'm oh-so-proud; the next bits aren't as great, but they're likable. Plus, I'm writing which makes me immensely happy.
...Okay, that was a nice break, but time to get back to the fic now. *nod*
It's also sad when the cake kinda, uh, falls apart between pan and plate and when you try to fix it with frosting it only gets worse. Oops.
In other news, I had some really freaking weird dreams before I finally got up. It kept going between semi-post-apocalyptic and modern. Harry Potter was there, and he had very depressing sex with a lot of people. Hermione Granger was also there, working with Harry on...something to do with the post-apocalyptic stuff...but she also had a lot of sex with this one guy with very pale coloring who was apparently Irish. I think he might have slipped into a Russian accent at times, but he kept being referred to as 'the Irishman' so...whatevs; he also was very frustrated with Harry, and I don't remember why except maybe that he kept walking in and interrupting the sex.
Then Harry went to an airport to fly somewhere (and it was nice and modern and clean) and Draco Malfoy was there and wanted to help him but Harry was all sad and I-don't-deserve-love-and-am-a-manwhore-now. There was lots of hurt/comfort going on there. I think Draco got him to agree to be better to himself and give Draco a chance, and then Harry got on his flight. It was odd, because the plane had all of two columns of seats and a ridiculously small number of rows. One of the columns had bench-seats that had seatbelts for three, but I don't think I could have fit three of my tiny arse in those things. Two, possibly, even possibly comfortably. Three? No. The other column switched from those to having a single seat about halfway down the plane. There was no first class/business class, and the seats furthest to the front were right directly behind the pilots' seats. Harry took the very front in the single-seat column. One of the pilot's turned around and began chatting with Harry and a woman in the second or third row of the bench-seats. I think it was supposed to be a packed flight. He asked Harry why he chose to sit in the seat alone, and did he really want to be alone on Christmas Eve (which, apparently, it was)? Harry was quiet and a bit morose there. I think I sorta have post-sleep injected that no, he wanted a Draco on his lap, but I'm okay with this development. *g*
Then back in the airport, a group of people got caught in this weird patch of space that they couldn't get out of. They kinda realized that they couldn't get out of it when the invisible walls kept pushing them back in when they tried to walk away. Something other than being stuck there scared them, though I've forgotten what (psycho killer and monsters come to mind, but I'm not sure if that's in-dream-canon or post-dream-creativity there). Anywho, people got desperate to get out, and it focused in on one guy who managed to figure out that if he shuffled his feet slowly he could push through the wall a little, and if he tried hard enough he could get through. He finally did, but once out he wasn't able to lift his legs right. He had to shuffle forward like on snow-skis, but it was really difficult, like he was walking through something thick with really heavy legs. After he'd gotten a fair distance (he didn't want to chance getting sucked back in), he turned his head to look back. All the people in the space he'd been in were gone, except Christopher Walken (who had also been in there) was standing there looking crazy-angry and holding a weedwacker. I think he shout-snarled out some cult-religious stuff about infidels and dream-guy knew that he was going to come after anyone who escaped the space. At that point, he somehow knew that some of the others had gotten out too, and off to his right was a woman in a skirtsuit doing the same awkward walk as him, trying to get away.
He knew he couldn't run, but he tried to shuffle as quickly as possible without making it apparent in the way he moved. He figured that the crazy guy would come after him because of that walk. About that time I became aware that he sort of resembled Chris Farley in appearance - though 30's-40's - and was wearing a grey suit. I think he thought something about a wife, but I don't recall entirely. Walken-crazy started to walk forward in starts and stops while revving his weedwacker, as if not certain what direction to go, but threatening everyone around him. There were a few people that screamed and ran, but there was a lot more who just paid him no mind, and the bystander apathy was pretty palpable.
Farley-guy finally decided that running away wasn't going to work, so hiding would be best. He ducked into the first shop he saw, that strangely went back and forth between an upscale men's clothing store and a snooty restaurant. The maitre d'/head sales clerk was a snooty old guy who couldn't seem to fathom why Farley-guy was trying to get in and trying to hide in a corner (against the wall-glass, which I recall thinking was stupid of him) behind a plant. Walken-crazy found him, snooty-guy kept trying to indignantly question why they were there and getting frustrated because they were both ignoring him. Farley-guy tried to duck and curl up into a ball, crying and screaming like a little girl, while Walken-crazy kept trying to slash at him with the weedwacker, but it kept getting caught on the plant and tangling instead.
That was about when I got tired of my alarm going off every five minutes, and seeing no way to salvage the already FUBARed dream, I made myself stay awake after shutting the alarm off instead of slipping back to sleep again. Oh, yeah, through that whole dream I kept waking up to hit the snooze button and then tumbling back to sleep. Then I heard a weird scritching noise and went into ohmygodpleasedon'tletthatbearoach mode, but it was just my fan. But then I was awake.
...And then I got out my laptop and started writing a rather depressing Harry Potter fanfic that I am scrabbling for ideas on how to make it get to a happy ending without dragging it out for forever. I probably will make it drag out, though. *sigh* The first bit of it is spectacularly artistic with the imagery, and I'm oh-so-proud; the next bits aren't as great, but they're likable. Plus, I'm writing which makes me immensely happy.
...Okay, that was a nice break, but time to get back to the fic now. *nod*