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Authors: Kristen Ashley
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about being funny?) You would have thought I said, “I don’t get the whole fallen chocolate soufflé cake thing. I mean, I prefer boiled rice.” Jeez. Lucy demanded the next Movie Night be “Dinner with Martin Scorsese”. Ack!
Josie came in toting our Indian takeaway and still bitching about the garbage trucks doing collections during rush hour traffic. She’d been on about this all day, since taking Rory to school that morning (too cold for him to walk, not to mention our fear of bad guys hauling him away).
I told her to shut up and dish up the murug makhni when she pointed her finger at the TV in a rage.
There was Douglas Addison, prominent American neo-conservative senator for Colorado (in my opinion, the only thing the modifier “neo” was good at being attached to was Keanu Reeves) and some say, next American President. Apparently, he was coming to England for some reason (probably to spread the word of the Lord whilst signing lucrative arms contracts).
“ That man, that bloody, awful man!” Josie shouted.
Oh no.
Josie was going to go all political again.
Don’t get me wrong, I hated to hear my American Brethren going on and on and on about God and country. I dig God (don’t be surprised, witches are very spiritual creatures and respect others of like mind no matter who they worship) and I dig country but never the twain should meet (I was living in a country with hundreds of years of history that proved that sad fact).
But Douglas Addison had something about him.
Sure, he was a scary fascist but then so was Ralph Fiennes in Shindler’s List . You wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire (talking about Ralph Fiennes’s character, of course, I’d definitely piss on Ralph Fiennes if he was on fire, mama mia, that man could be in a Brood Off with Sebastian and have a chance at winning!) but you had to admit they had a certain something.
And anyway, Addison dressed like a dream. He’d graced the cover of GQ more than once in his political career. The dude was hot (in a tall, dark, dangerous, slim, fit, macho, scary fascist sort of way) and he knew fashion and I’d sell my soul to the devil for fashion.
“Josie, save it,” Lucy said through a mouthful of biryani. “Tell the Council.”
“Screw the Council,” Josie declared.
Lucy stopped in mid-tear of her naan and I (lamentably) dropped a spoonful of pilau rice on the carpet.
Josie didn’t say things like that.
“ I’m not going to tell them anything,” she stated. “They don’t do anything. I’ve been writing letters for years.”
Then came the big announcement.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” she announced pouring the entire contents of her container of lamb passanda over her rice. “And then beat ‘em.”
Whoa!
Girl Power!
Yee Ha!
A Councillor is Born!
Watch out Glenda Jackson… you got company!
5 February
(Middle of night)
(Little freaked out)
Ran into Aidan at Tescos!
I couldn’t sleep (BecBec has disappeared, maybe mad at me, so now can’t sleep without her whizzing around the room) so went to Tescos to get ingredients for sugar cream pie recipe I looked up on the Internet.
There he was, trying to choose between crunchy or regular chocolate fingers (no contest, crunchy).
I just stood there, staring stupidly at him until he noticed me and his body kinda jerked when he saw me.
Could be two explanations for jerkage: 1) he was caught or 2) sight of me in my pajama bottoms, a sweatshirt that had seen better days, a five foot long scarf Gran sent me for Yule wrapped around my neck, no makeup and my hair twisted into scary, messy knot on top of head.
“Matty,” he greeted and smiled. (Good recovery, dickhead.)
“Aidan,” I greeted back (I’m so cool). “Where ya been?”
“Busy…” Mm, yeah right, busy summoning the forces of evil. “I meant to call…”
Ack!
One of a girl’s most hated phrases.
I waved my hand dismissing his excuses. “Listen Aidan, I don’t know your
Josie came in toting our Indian takeaway and still bitching about the garbage trucks doing collections during rush hour traffic. She’d been on about this all day, since taking Rory to school that morning (too cold for him to walk, not to mention our fear of bad guys hauling him away).
I told her to shut up and dish up the murug makhni when she pointed her finger at the TV in a rage.
There was Douglas Addison, prominent American neo-conservative senator for Colorado (in my opinion, the only thing the modifier “neo” was good at being attached to was Keanu Reeves) and some say, next American President. Apparently, he was coming to England for some reason (probably to spread the word of the Lord whilst signing lucrative arms contracts).
“ That man, that bloody, awful man!” Josie shouted.
Oh no.
Josie was going to go all political again.
Don’t get me wrong, I hated to hear my American Brethren going on and on and on about God and country. I dig God (don’t be surprised, witches are very spiritual creatures and respect others of like mind no matter who they worship) and I dig country but never the twain should meet (I was living in a country with hundreds of years of history that proved that sad fact).
But Douglas Addison had something about him.
Sure, he was a scary fascist but then so was Ralph Fiennes in Shindler’s List . You wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire (talking about Ralph Fiennes’s character, of course, I’d definitely piss on Ralph Fiennes if he was on fire, mama mia, that man could be in a Brood Off with Sebastian and have a chance at winning!) but you had to admit they had a certain something.
And anyway, Addison dressed like a dream. He’d graced the cover of GQ more than once in his political career. The dude was hot (in a tall, dark, dangerous, slim, fit, macho, scary fascist sort of way) and he knew fashion and I’d sell my soul to the devil for fashion.
“Josie, save it,” Lucy said through a mouthful of biryani. “Tell the Council.”
“Screw the Council,” Josie declared.
Lucy stopped in mid-tear of her naan and I (lamentably) dropped a spoonful of pilau rice on the carpet.
Josie didn’t say things like that.
“ I’m not going to tell them anything,” she stated. “They don’t do anything. I’ve been writing letters for years.”
Then came the big announcement.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” she announced pouring the entire contents of her container of lamb passanda over her rice. “And then beat ‘em.”
Whoa!
Girl Power!
Yee Ha!
A Councillor is Born!
Watch out Glenda Jackson… you got company!
5 February
(Middle of night)
(Little freaked out)
Ran into Aidan at Tescos!
I couldn’t sleep (BecBec has disappeared, maybe mad at me, so now can’t sleep without her whizzing around the room) so went to Tescos to get ingredients for sugar cream pie recipe I looked up on the Internet.
There he was, trying to choose between crunchy or regular chocolate fingers (no contest, crunchy).
I just stood there, staring stupidly at him until he noticed me and his body kinda jerked when he saw me.
Could be two explanations for jerkage: 1) he was caught or 2) sight of me in my pajama bottoms, a sweatshirt that had seen better days, a five foot long scarf Gran sent me for Yule wrapped around my neck, no makeup and my hair twisted into scary, messy knot on top of head.
“Matty,” he greeted and smiled. (Good recovery, dickhead.)
“Aidan,” I greeted back (I’m so cool). “Where ya been?”
“Busy…” Mm, yeah right, busy summoning the forces of evil. “I meant to call…”
Ack!
One of a girl’s most hated phrases.
I waved my hand dismissing his excuses. “Listen Aidan, I don’t know your
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