soldtoarmenians

After checking his incoming e-mail left Xander thinking "Ouch, dude, my sympathies" at the evidence that Marty had fallen victim to the stupidity of drunken e-mailing this weekend too, and checking his outgoing e-mail at least verified that his own example of that had only been misdirected to Parker and not, say, the entire student body, Xander actually considered ... homework.

Yes, he felt his forehead again; still no fever.

Crap, though, because he'd never collected up the stuff he was supposed to get for his Survival Kit in Shop, and that was due tomorrow.

Leaving a ( note ) for Isabel, he made sure he had the credit card from Professor MacGyver, and headed into town.

Hey, it was quiet up there, at least outside Xander's head, and he wasn't in the mood to sleep. Twinkies might eat him.

To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.edu
Subject: Catching up on my So Called alleged life

( Dear Willow )

Shop class - wherein Xander's little sib mocked his duct tape, because there is clearly something wrong with her.
Creature Languages, wherein everyone proved they have down the basic concept of 'what is a mammal.'
Magical Theory, wherein the subject of changing the future came up, and Xander had Oedipal flashbacks. No, not that kind. Eww. The kind where Snyder made him stand on stage in a toga and bad hair.
E-mail from Rory re: Sekrit Shopping Plans, wherein... actually, when did Xander turn into a girl exactly?

Shop. With eggs.
Creature Languages. With dragons. who have no pie.
PIE!
Radio voting! With PIE!
Magical Theory! With Tarot. And PIE!
E-mail from Lana about Weird Hometown Club. No pie. :-(

{Linky, historical, yadda yadda frogcakes, OOC comments fine.}

Shop Class.

Creature Languages Class.

Magical Theory.

In the evening, Xander left a voicemail for Angela about making up their Art History studio assignment, then met her in the 4th floor common room for stick-figures sketching. He also talked to Jaye about repression, bosoms, and Joaquin Phoenix. Or, um. Something like that?

{NFB and locked, because it's mostly a link post, with a bit of Xander listening to his unheard voicemails, then he's outta here}

"Hey, frog-face," Xander said to Jeremiah as he came in.

Xander peeled off his dry, but still coffee-scented shirt, and after taking a whiff of his t-shirt, quickly figured out that the smell had soaked through, so that one got tossed into the box he was using for a hamper as well. Switching it out for a plain white one that just read "Buttery" in hot-pink letters, and God only knew where he'd picked that one up, he ( headed over to drop some food of the non-wriggling type into Jeremiah's tank )

He listened through the rest of his Friday calls, from Veronica, another new kid with a thick Scottish accent, and... Han Solo talking about-- Rightokayhangingupnow Talking about something Xander couldn't remember because of a very specific and localized case of brain-ebola-avoiding amnesia. Yes.

He hung up the phone and very carefully considered the outgoing calls he'd made in response to those voicemails, and where on God's pink and fluffy earth they might have gone.

Then he considered the chance that if he dived under his bed and never ever came out again, Jeremiah would figure out a way to carry Twinkies and new issues of Really Strong Guy Who Can Fly to Xander for the next fifty years or so.

There were some flying pigs on his roomie's pajamas that were about three times as likely, he reluctantly decided. Shaking his head, he headed for the door. "I'm going out," he told Jeremiah. "To be with people who are not frogs. To demonstrate my complete coolness with the fact that I am a moron. I'll let you know how that goes. Don't perve on Isabel while I'm gone - or at least take pictures, if you do."