soldtoarmenians: (Default)
After running into town to get flowers (Guy flowers, okay? The kind that go on your lapel.) that he totally didn't forget until the last minute, Xander arrived back at 406 to find that his date? Already there. Though not already dressed. In prom clothes, that is. He was dressed in regular clothes omg, jeez - the roomie was there, after all!

After arriving at the Town Hall, there was an actual first dance. On an actual dancefloor. In public and all. Shockingly, Xander survived it. Even more shockingly, he survived dancing with Parker.

There was chatting with Rory by the punchbowl, and dancing with Bridge to That Song (no, not the Macarena) and somehow when he went for punch after that, there was dancing with Jake. Girl Jake. No, that wasn't weird at all. Unlike everything else tonight, of course.

Also Isabel, and who knew you could dance to The Rainbow Connection? Besides, presumably, frogs.

And then there was that last song which... um, yeah, notsomuch, Mr. Looksliketheexprincipalbutisn't Guy.

And then there was that.
soldtoarmenians: (1-splainy)
Saturday morning, Xander's inbox: )

Sigh. Well, at least he had the excuse that one of those was sent while he was in class yesterday, being really , really busy. Making Angel's unlife miserable glitter flags.

Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
soldtoarmenians: (oldskool)
To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Sent: 20 April 1998 11:55 p.m.
Subject: re: HA! You're so not up yet. I win.

Helloooooooooo... Stally McStallerson...

~Willow
_
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )

Dear Xander: )
soldtoarmenians: (latin)
To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Sent: 20 April 1998 2:45 p.m.
Subject: re: HA! You're so not up yet. I win.

*taps foot*

Detail.

~Willow
_
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )

[Dear Xander:] --- Huh? Oh wait, that's not from Willow. Oh...boy, is that ever not from Willow. Right, not flailing. So...totally not flailing.

So totally... not sending this e-mail. At all. Really. Yo, Larry )

Well, maybe a little.

Dear Harris: )
Larry: )
Dear Harris: )

*headdesk*

Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
soldtoarmenians: (xanderswillow)
To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Sent: 20 April 1998 6:17 a.m.
Subject: HA! You're so not up yet. I win.

*Poke*

love, Willow
--
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Chock Full O' Details

Pick one. Heck, pick two. Mix n' match. )

~Xander
__

To: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
From: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
Subject: re: Chock Full O' Details

....you suck. No fair telling before I poke!

~Willow
__

To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: re: Chock Full O' Details

*wins, muahaha*

~Xander

Tuesday

Apr. 18th, 2006 04:07 pm
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Yuh-huh. Have you met a Tuesday in Xander's life when anything happened besides History of Art? Though granted stuff happened in History of Art. If by stuff you mean e-mail....like... Xander was totally supposed to be checking in History of Art, yeah.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)


Well, that's gonna give Xander a convenient reason to unload a second birthday gift on Isabel, courtesy of Shop, finally give Aeryn the thing he'd bought for her when she came back and then never really found a non-awkward way to pass on, and give Angela the present Rory had helped him pick out at IKEA. And proves he was not on crack to think that buying some foodie gift baskets for the insane amount of parties they have around here could be an idea.

Too bad it doesn't really provide an excuse for handing over the other present he bought on Sunday, but... ah well. He'll be more neurotic about that bridge when he...you know, that metaphor is suddenly a lot less metaphorical than it used to be.

soldtoarmenians: (computer)


Or, Xander Harris and the Inbox of Doooom

Viagra spam yawn.

Invitation from Jake to go buy a couch...um. Okay. possibly. Despite... almost complete lack of money. But hey, birthdays coming up liek whoa.

E-mail from Willow, oh crap. )



....*headdesk*

Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
Dear Xander: )
Dear Willow: )
___
*headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

[Open for roomination! Or other visitation, as long as it's before the afternoon when Misadventure Yay is occurring.]

soldtoarmenians: (Default)
There is a closet here. Yeah, yeah, blah blah make your puns while you can. The point is that Xander is standing in front of it. Very very possibly flailing.

__
[Open for someone else who lives here. I'd say open for anybody who wanted to stop by and harrass him, but zomg running late, so no.]
soldtoarmenians: (computer)
Not that Xander really needed another shower just to make sure all the slime was out of his hair? But... it was better than spending all day worrying about whether all the slime was out of his hair. Which come to think of it might have distracted him from worrying about other things all day, but it was too late now; you can't unshower.

You can send a text message while you wait for your hair to dry, though. And then an e-mail while you wait for your brain to return from whatever dimension it's currently taking a vacation in.

And then you can do other things besides sitting in front of your laptop waiting for a reply. Like...um. Play Tetris.

And not be at all vaguely disappointed when the New Mail popup turns out to be from Willow: )

To which you can reply with wide eyes, wet hair, and disappointment completely replaced by spazz-hands, if you're Xander: Dear Willow: )

Dear Xander: )

*headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk*

Dear Willow: )

Dear Xander: )

*headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *headdesk* - *don't reply* - *headdesk*

*peek cautiously at inbox when this arrives moments later* Dear Xander: )

*sigh* *facedesk*

*head off to Creature Languages*

Wednesday

Apr. 12th, 2006 11:55 pm
soldtoarmenians: (1-reading)


Things What Happened To Xander

Shop with...trees.
Common Room with...slime. And facepalming.


Thing What Should Be Making Xander's Ears Burn (but aren't, because not psychic omg)

Something tasteful in the school paper...
Journalistic Integrity includes stalking, yay. Or not.
Whaddya know, someone's dreaming again.

Tuesday

Apr. 11th, 2006 11:46 am
soldtoarmenians: (art)


Stuff What Happened to Xander:

History of Some Dude Named Art (Who may or may not be a stuntman)

Stuff What Should Be Making Xander's Ears Burn:

Nadia's dreaming again...

Monday

Apr. 10th, 2006 11:41 pm
soldtoarmenians: (wtf?)
Shop = tree
Creature Languages = lobster
Magical Theory = quiz
Common room = land of somebody's Oedipus complex, but... Xander's not sure whose
soldtoarmenians: (facepalm2)


Xander: *has to be threatened with cookie confiscation before he'll even tell Best. Roomie. Ever. about date...stuff. Otherwise, says nothing, even to people who already know*

Bridge: *tells, like, almost everybody*

Radio: *tells EVERYBODY*

Xander: *sighs*

(Best. Roomie. Ever. : *has nightmares, presumably not about Xander's social development issues, though you never can tell around here*)

soldtoarmenians: (latin)
Xander? Totally flopped on his bed with a bag of pretzels, poking the internet for stuff about alternate universes for his incredibly vaguely planned final project in Magical Theory. Not randomly flipping back to his e-mail tab at all. That'd be stupid, since he's got a New Mail popup set.

__

{Open for teh roomie, at the moment}
soldtoarmenians: (frog)
If you guessed that Xander was hiding out alone in 406 with season 3 of Bitterwoman going on the laptop, and the text-message feature of his e-mail open in another tab, and occasionally wondering if the last part was just OMG way too girly of him?

You would not be wrong.

You'd be gifted with Phenomenal Cosmic Powers, or you'd be Jeremiah...or possibly both... but you wouldn't be wrong.


__
{Door's not open, but he'll answer it if anybody feels like stopping by. He'll just... be hiding that e-mail tab. :) }

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