Fray-Adjacent

From: Xander Harris
Subject: Non-Surprise Birthday Party

Who: Bridge Carson

When: December 6th, 6 p.m. FHT and probably up early for slowplay

Where: Mauvaise Chance Apartments, 1st Floor Holosuite

Why: 42 Free cake. You don't turn 18 every day. Unless you're trapped in a time-loop.

Don't bring: Time-loops. Unattached limbs (detachable is fine). Vampires. Anything else is fair game.
____
[OOC: If you know Bridge but Xander doesn't know you, Willow who was modded with permission forwarded it.]

Food was, in theory, ready. This was because Xander had, in fact, totally cheated -- the only things that hadn't come from the food synthesizer were the coffee and pie. The pie was chocolate peanut butter pie, and consisted of peanut butter, milk, pudding, and Cool Whip, but at least he'd made it himself!

You do Thanksgiving your way, and he'll do it his, mm'kay?
_
[OOC: Open for some expected guests!]

If Xander's holding onto Bridge a little tighter in his sleep than he normally would on Sunday morning, there's nothing strange about that from his point of view. Given all that went on this week, wouldn't you?

( Cut for WTFery )
[OOC: Preplayed with bridge_carson; ze OOC, she is fine and dandy.]

To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/15/2007

Dear Xander: You'd BETTER be okay. I mean it, mister. Don't make me come over there... as soon as there's a there there again.

love,
your BFF who is not wigging out that your phone says it's out of area and e-mails to you or anybody with a fandomhigh address are bouncing because there's no post traumatic stress syndrome there at ALL, nope, no sir.
__

To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]

Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.

This may not be a permanent error.

>Dear Xander ...
__
[OOC: Establishy, and NFB since it never reached the island!]

To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/13/2007

Tech, low: ( I refer the distinguished gentleman... )
__

To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]

Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.

This may not be a permanent error.

>Tech, low: ...

To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Date: 11/12/2007

( Dear Willow )

Xander is doing something that... well, some people might call it cooking. Probably not people who actually know how to operate a stove, though. There's chicken, or something that started out as chicken, but then he got distracted by the pasta boiling over, and now it's the artist formerly known as chicken. And the superglue formerly known as pasta.

So... pretty much Xander's doing something that's more properly described as 'staring at his kitchen and wondering if it'd be cheating to dump the whole thing and start pressing random buttons on the food replicator.'

It's been... a day.
_____
[OOC: For the boyfriend.]

It'd been one of those weekends. If by that you mean "those weekends you dream about and then wake up promising yourself never to touch runny cheese at a college mixer ever, ever again."

Still, he had a guest, of sorts, and he might as well show her that he did something besides Apartment Managing, without showing her the other thing he did besides Apartment Managing. Which was why they were currently in the elevator heading for the roof of the building.
__
[OOC: for the parental unit! B-word-person also welcome laterwards, if desired.]

That whistling coming from the kitchen in MCA Number Zero? That's not the teakettle. First because Xander doesn't have a teakettle, and second because it's the whistling of a happy man with happy pasta boiling away on the happy stove, who got to see Version 1.0 of one of his favorite people today, and gets to have happy pasta for happy dinner with another of them tonight. In short, it's one of the best days to ever have the word "Parents" attached to it that Xander can ever remember experiencing. Largely because there have been no actual parents involved in it.

None of which explains why he's whistling Macho Man. Possibly it's the apron?
_

[OOC: for two dinner guests, one expected and one... not so much.]

To: Parker
From: Xander
Date: Wednesday, October 17th

>Half relieved not to be there, half very very very ... concerned for you. And Bridge. And the others. Gah.

On the other hand, you're missing possessed board-games with funny monkeys. And, okay, man-eating spiders, but what's a little man-eating between friends, right?

Go ahead. Take it. That was me handing you the straight-line on a plate.

>*mutters to self in Chinese and wishes for you to be unemployed in secondary job*

How about underemployed? I'd settle for that. Keep the Slayer, lose the vampires. She could save the world from dust bunnies, mimes, and bad cheese. Oh, or we could just hire her out to protect all the other kids from the Invasion of the Parents this weekend, poor bastards.

No, I'm not sure if I mean the kids or the families. Better them than me, is all I'm saying. Thank God all I have to worry about is the evil undead.

And the bad cheese.

~Xander