Ol' Red Eyes Is Here!

Mon, 29 Aug 2005 01:21:32 GMT

Helping hand. It's what I do. No, it's what I am. I'm a guide, helping people to find their path. Sometimes, that means crawling out of Caritas, and going to a client. Especially when that client's a potential Slayer.

I know a little bit about Slayers. Not as much as Wesley, and not near as much as Angel-cakes, of course. I've heard of Slayers, but I've never shtupped one, after all...but I digress.

Cliff notes version? Oz came to me, asked me to come. Apparently, the little Slayer who could is held up in their basement in a cage. Sounds kinky.

I'll come, I'll hear her sing, I'll call the verdict on whether or not she's a lost cause.

I can do that much, at least. It's almost like, for just a second, I'm actually doing good, and being a part of the team.

Go team.

Wed, 17 Aug 2005 14:25:00 GMT

There are days when Los Angeles is like a gigantic, glittering jewel, catching and refracting the light like the dickens, spitting color and beauty in ever direction.

This ain't one of 'em.

Morning started out ok. Birds were singing, and not choking on the haze of perpetual LA smog. That's always endearing. Guaranteed to put a smile on my face.

Took a hard left turn by early evening. Nina showed early for her shift. She was all sweetness and bright, as usual. She told me she was working on new sculptures in her art classes. We were talking about Michaelangelo (not the Turtle) when we heard the gunshots.

Seems that there was a drive-by shooting, right out front of Caritas. Brought back some not-so-happy memories of Charles' crew of murderous little psychos busting in one night and deciding to wreak a special brand of havoc.

Normally, I leave the heroics to those better suited. But what, am I gonna deny aid to the wounded just because they got hurt ten feet from my door?

I went upstairs. What else could I do?

There was so much blood. I know, after all this time helping Angel and his crew, that I ought to be inured to the sight of it. But I'm not. Not at all. Especially when I can make a pithy remark and let the big, tough warrior-types handle it.

I held that teenage boy's hand as he shuddered and died on my doorstep, a bubble of blood forming from his last breath, and bursting on my new white silk tie.

I've been downstairs drinking and listening to old songs ever since. Caritas is closed tonight. I don't much feel like singing.

Fri, 05 Aug 2005 06:54:41 GMT

Haven't seen too much of my favorite marrieds in here lately, and that kinda bums me. Or burns me. Take your pick.

It's not as though they don't know where to find me. Even the bad guys know where to find me. The Princess of Darkness has been in here twice in the last week alone, sucking up Cosmopolitans and the ambience. Never sings, though. At least, not on stage. I think she thinks she's too smart for it. Doesn't want to tip any hands that might point right back to Angel and friends.

I'm like your better therapists. I'd never spill beans like that. Unless it was a life-or-death thing. Which, with Wolfram and Hart, it usually is.

So, could be she's got the right idea. It's not like I'm going to toss someone out on their ear for not singing, after all. Even when maybe I should.

The only one of the regular cast of the Hyperion Follies I see in here all the time is Oz, bless his fuzzy head. Gotta teach that boy that there is music beyond all things rock and roll, though. Maybe wean him onto a little Neil Diamond. I bet his honey could sing the hell out of "Forever In Blue Jeans"...

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 15:48:27 GMT

Slow week at Caritas, which suits me just fine. Gives me far too much time to worry, though. Mostly about Angelbuns, Wes and Gunn. I mean, I know they're all big boys, all three, but I just...

I feel so useless sometimes, just acting as the signpost on the road to Gooddeedsville. Like I could be doing more. Like maybe I should be.

Maybe I could poke around a little bit...see what I can turn over about the enemy at our collective gates. God knows, enough of 'em come in here to chat about spreadsheets and power plays over their afternoon martini spritzers.

A little intel could always help the interim players in town.

Tue, 01 Feb 2005 21:09:47 GMT

Angel and the rest of the crew have ditched town for a day or so to go to the big birthday shebang for his ex. I was invited, but I begged off. Somebody has to run Caritas, and without me, things just crumble around here so easily that it's unsettling. Or it would be to anyone without the added courage of fine whiskey.

Besides, I know something bad is gonna happen there, and I'm more the "moral support" type, and less the "frontline warrior" that some of those kids are.

It's better this way. After all, I've just hired a new waitress, that lovely little lady werewolf that the gang helped out. She's been wanting to stay away from her art classes till she gets more of a handle on the growing fur in odd places thing, which I understand. It's not every day that you find out you're decidedly different from everyone around you.

Boy, do I ever get that.

Ugh, no point getting maudlin. Not when that lovely songbird is vying for my services on stage. Back to business, Lorne. Your friends will figure this one out all on their lonesomes.

Thu, 23 Dec 2004 23:06:39 GMT

Y'know, it's times like these that I begin to grow serious appreciation for the ability to do all my Christmas shopping via the magic of the Internet. Have you seen the crowd on the loose today?

Christmas is a wonderful time of the year. The most wonderful time, filled with cheer and goodwill amongst man and demon-kind, for the most part. But I still wouldn't want to try to beat someone to the last Spongebob Squarepants stuffed animals in the loal department stores today. No thank you.

I'll stay right here, in Caritas, and have another rum punch, thank you.

Wed, 22 Dec 2004 06:40:03 GMT

Just got off the blower with Faith. That's one cookie that's on the verge of crumbling, right there.

Apparently, Oz went walkabout, sans leash of any kind, after some sort of disturbance in the etherial force at Casa de Hero.

What could I say? I'm not some sort of mystical bloodhound. I can't put my ear to the ground like Tonto and pick up his vibrations. But what I can do is put the word out amongst my contacts, and see if anyone matching his description shows up in a club, looking to make some scratch playing guitar.

Which is what I told Faith, o'course.

Think maybe I should stop by there soon. Check up on everybody. See how the wind blows in their respective valleys of darkness.

I should start charging a counselling rate. It'd certainly pay my lease for the rest of this year, and most of next...

Mon, 15 Nov 2004 21:59:58 GMT

That'll teach me not to have demonic pyromaniac coverage in my insurance policy.

The whole place smells like the inside of a Hibachi, ever since that little incident with the fire-flinging extradimensional prisoner, and may I just say how fervently I wish I could never have the word extradimensional leave these lips again, unless I'm reading something by Terry Brooks?

Caritas is closed for business until the remodeling is complete...again. And now, I hear that poor Angel-Cakes and his crew almost got their unmentionables clawed off by that pretty little blonde thing they've been trying to paper-train during the full moon.

Can't a hero and his assorted hangers-on catch a break?

Tue, 09 Nov 2004 18:31:32 GMT

Not that I'm not completely on-board with the mission, and all that is both capital-R-Right, and capital-g-Good, but is it REALLY smart to be hiding out a werecritter in the basement of the Hyperion, even if she IS cute and mostly harmless when she's just a pretty little blonde art student?

I mean, color me surprised if she breaks out of her little cage, and goes chasing cars down the Ventura freeway.

I'll be here in Caritas, not there in the line of wolfy-fire, but you can re-color me that surprised tint anyway...

Someone at the Hyperion, call me if there's an issue, or if I'm needed...till then, there's a new Sinatra boxed set I've got my eye on, and a revival of From Here To Eternity at the Paramount.

Thu, 30 Sep 2004 04:22:18 GMT

You can spread the guilt here thicker than peanut butter. I don't even need anyone to sing...everyone's wearing their hearts pinned to their shirtfronts.

"Hello, my name is Wesley, and I'm burying myself in my work because I feel like a failure to my Slayer for not diagnosing her condition soon enough to nip this particular voyage of the Tragedy Schooner before it left the dock."

"Hi, my name is Angel, and I've got enough psychic baggage for fourteen and three-quarters people, but I want to tote some more, so I'mg onna blame myself for the actions of my evil twin."

"Hi, my name is Faith,and I'm choking on my tough-girl facade so hard it's killing me. I just want to cry and beg angel's forgiveness, but I don't want to open up to the possibility of hurt, so I'd rather wallow."

Wallowing's no good, kiddies. Unless, y'know,you're wallowing in Scrooge McDuck's money bin. Or at Paris and Nicky's place, in the big feather bed.

Uncle Lorne's gonna have to play yenta again, isn't he?

Don't be cruel

Thu, 01 Apr 2004 17:41:28 GMT

I don't understand it. I really don't. First my favorite group of champions say they want my help in getting a psychic to squint a third eye at this wedding present, and now that I've given them the names of the best in town (and honey, I am a very picky shopper), they've changed their mind?

I don't know what's going on over there, but they're not returning phone calls, and you just don't do that in LA. Callbacks are sacred, spongecakes. Keep that up and next thing you know, you'll never eat lunch in this town again.

Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past

Thu, 25 Mar 2004 21:17:38 GMT

Got a call from my favorite crumpet muncher earlier this morning. Seems that someone slipped something nasty into the wedding gift pile, and we aren't talking avocado glassware. So time for me to haul out the other little black book and see who I know in the psychometry line. Not an easy gift to handle, let me tell you. Most of the psychometrists I know--the ones who're any good, that is--don't like to go out in public because they can collect signals the way a daycare center collects germs.

I'll have to call them later, though. Clients waiting, including a smoky-eyed fellow who strikes me as a real firecracker.

This I tell ya, brother/Ya can't have one without the other

Fri, 12 Mar 2004 19:35:09 GMT

Got a postcard from my favorite Texas rose today. She and Wesley are in Receda for the honeymoon. Good thing the Powers That Be are giving 'em a break and not letting some big disaster happen. Or do They have understudies they call in? Hate to see the cattle call for those auditions.

Lunch crowd's dying down, But next week? Spring break? Oy. At least college students aren't immune to the sanctuary spell. Had one kid last year who fancied himself a wizard and tried to fling some mojo around. Heh. You don't try that twice in my club, mister.

Supposed to get a fresh stack of CDs for the karaoke machine today. More of the stuff the kids are going for these days. But maybe I'll be surprised and there'll be one or two in the bunch who appreciate real music, too.

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

Sun, 07 Mar 2004 21:26:19 GMT

They did it. Hitched without a hitch. No vampires. No demons. No temper tantrums from the mother of the bride--honestly, I think that would've scared me most of all. Trish is such a sweet woman. Never make a sweet woman angry.

Freddikins was radiant when she was coming down the aisle, and I felt like I needed shades before the ceremony ended. The English studmuffin didn't do too badly either. A few wobbles, but not bad, not bad. Once she took his arm, it was like he'd grown armor plate. Gotta love it when that happens.

Human wedding ceremonies are so short compared to my people's. Unless you add in the noshing and dancing. Not that I got to do much of the noshing. I did do a little mingling right after the ceremony, but then I went quick like a bunny back into the ballroom to make sure my staff had everything in hand. Chairs cleared away, stage made ready. Bill had to run out and get another extension cord, but he's pretty bunny-like himself, so we got it taken care of before the guests were due back in.

God, I love singing for happy couples. It doesn't happen often enough. And the party was fabulous, even if I wasn't the official host.

Could've lived without having to rescue Angelcakes after he had a little too much drinky-drinky. Not like he has a vampire's indifference to hooch these days. Or Faith's tolerance for massive quantities.

Other than that, splendiferous evening. Plus I got a couple more phone numbers for my collection.

When you're in love, my how they fly

Thu, 26 Feb 2004 03:44:54 GMT

Went over to the Hyperion today to do an acoustics check on the ballroom where my two favorite lovebirds are going to be married. Sounds like sweet honey in the rock. They really knew how to build 'em back then.

Can I just say how incredibly adorable those two are? Being near them is like standing next to a roaring fire. Really warms your soul down to its toes.

Yep. Those two crazy kids are gonna last forever.

And I've got no defence for it/The heat is too intense for it

Sat, 14 Feb 2004 21:22:09 GMT

God, I love Valentine's Day. All these people feeling the romance ... I tell ya, I haven't needed a single seabreeze today. I'm drinking in enough good vibrations to keep me on cloud 10, baby.

Wish my favorite soon-to-be newlyweds would stop by. Haven't seen them in ages, but I guess those two little lovebirds are nesting somewhere else today.

Ah, love is in the air, and it's floating into my soul ... life is good.

And I won't even have a hangover in the morning.

Ka-CHING!

Wed, 04 Feb 2004 16:33:42 GMT

Incredible. Those people don't know what they have over there.

I went to the Hyperion yesterday, hoping that Cordelia had gotten over the admittedly enormous humiliation of appearing in the worst Super Bowl commercial in history, but she's still hiding out in her apartment, according to her fellow gang of champions. Then Fred filled me in on what was really going on with that thing.

Seems the bright young things down at Krystar (the ad agency whose name is very much mud now, and I ain't talking facial packs) had come up with some mumbo-jumbo-gizmos that let them make commercials that would make people buy anything, and I mean anything. Poor Freddikins was trying to figure out what to do with all these cases of beer that they'd bought after seeing a preview of Cordy's commercial.

I admit it, I'm curious about anything even vaguely alcoholic, so I asked to try a sample, thinking it couldn't be as bad as Fred said.

It wasn't. It was better.

Oh, not to a human, of course, but I know a certain high-spending class of demons that's gonna pay through the nose for this stuff. Soon as I have another cup of java, I'm gonna drop a dime on my good friends at the Hyperion and offer to take all that beer off their hands for a mere $100 a case.

I want you to remember

Tue, 03 Feb 2004 19:44:19 GMT

I tried calling Cordelicious this morning, but she's not at home to callers. Not that I can blame the poor kid. I called the hotel and the groom-to-be said that she hasn't set so much as a perfectly pedicured toe inside the Hyperion.

Poor Cordelia.

I never even heard of this beer she was hawking in her teeny-weeny bikini ... Burtzman's? Sweetheart, that should've been a big clue right there. That's an ugly name for something you're supposed to drink. Wesley kept comparing it disdainfully to Harp or Guinness, but that's not a fair comparison. How bad could it be?

When life reaches out and takes you/On an unpleasant ride

Mon, 02 Feb 2004 14:45:37 GMT

Oh, honey.... I love ya to pieces, ya know I do, but that commercial, plumcake.

Good thing Justin Timberlake nearly ripped Janet Jackson's top off--it's giving the news heads something else to talk about. Even CNN is devoting a couple minutes to debate whether the Burtzman Lite Beer Super Bowl commercial was an attempt at camp that just didn't quite fly, or if Burtzman and its ad agency were all drunk when they came up with it.

I've already heard three jokes about it.

It seems that I'm the only one...

Sat, 24 Jan 2004 15:25:44 GMT

...who didn't know that Angel's taken the last train to Crazytown, and I don't mean Vegas. My favorite bride-to-be gave me a ring-a-ding yesterday to get my advice on entertainment (and of course I wouldn't charge her my usual fee), then mentioned in passing that Angelcakes had run off to Sunnydale to see that cute redheaded Sabrina about a son?

Why do I get a headache when I try to imagine Angel with a son?

Oh, well. Time for another cup of espresso, then meet with my accountant. Ah, tax time.

at Caritas

Mon, 12 Jan 2004 21:11:45 GMT

*on stage*

It's too late to turn back
When the green lights flash
Too late to turn around
When the love goes down

Your fire my fate
This woman won't wait
So love beam your laser light
Get ready gonna take this flight

You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me

Two hearts one mind
Baby you're my kind
You're too hot you're too much
You've got that personal touch

Push button play thing
Make my back door ring
Fight fire with a little fire baby
You oughta know you make this
little girl sing

You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me

Do your little shake baby
rattle and roll
Ring my bell baby do my soul
Don't let the grass grow under my feet
Bang my drum baby feel my beat
you're so wild

You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me

You're so wild
(you're wild and willing)
So wild (your spirit's free)
You're such a wild wild child
Oh baby go wild with me

*takes a bow*

Thank you, thank you. Wonderful audience as always--

*sees Kennedy enter*

And now, who's next? You, sir? Barry Manilow again, right? Of course ... yes, yes, that's one of my favorites, too.

*hands over the karoake mike and strolls to the bar*

Was there ever such a time?

Sun, 11 Jan 2004 14:52:52 GMT

I don't think I've had a New Year's week this busy since Y2K. Everyone wanting to know what 2004 holds for them. What am I, a fortune-telling machine?

Wait, they only get paid a quarter, don't they? Then I'm definitely not a fortune-telling machine.

I keep getting the feeling that I've forgotten something. Some appointment or another I'd promised to schedule and then didn't ... oh, right. Wes wanted me to read everyone at the Hyperion to make sure that nothing nasty would interfere with the wedding, whenever that is.

Gaah. I can't figure out if I should have 'em all do solos, or if this needs to be a sing-a-long. And what song would they all know well enough to sing together? And would my ears be able to take it?

at Caritas

Sun, 28 Dec 2003 16:06:09 GMT

When true lovers meet in Mayfair,
So the legends tell,
Song birds sing,
Winter turns to spring,
Ev'ry winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.
I know such enchantment can be,
'Cause it happened one ev'ning to me.

That certain night,
The night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air.
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square

I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turn'd and smiled at me,
A nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square

The moon that lingered over London town
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown
How could he know we two were so in love
The whole darn world seemed upside down

The streets of town were paved with stars
It was such a romantic affair
And as we kiss'd and said "good-night"
A nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square

How strange it was , How sweet and strange
There was never a dream to compare
With that hazy, crazy night we met
When a nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square

This heart of mine beat loud and fast
Like a merry-go-round in a fair
For we were dancing cheek to cheek
And a nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square

When dawn came stealing up all golden blue,
To interrupt our rendezvous.
I still remember how you smiled and said,
"Was that a dream or was it true?"

Our homeward step was just as light
As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire
And like an echo far away,
A nightingale sang in Berk'ley Square.

I know 'cause I was there,
That night in Berk'ley Square

at the Hyperion

Thu, 25 Dec 2003 01:04:20 GMT

Well, Cordy, it definitely sounds like a party in there! Let's go in and raise the hip rating a few thousand points, shall we?

*offers her his arm*

at Caritas

Tue, 23 Dec 2003 02:11:35 GMT

We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev'rybody and sing

Ev'ryone can see we're together
As we walk on by
(FLY!) and we fly just like birds of a feather
I won't tell no lie
(ALL!) all of the people around us they say
Can they be that close
Just let me state for the record
We're giving love in a family dose

We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev'rybody and sing

We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev'rybody and sing

Living life is fun and we've just begun
To get our share of the world's delights
(HIGH!) high hopes we have for the future
And our goal's in sight
(WE!) no we don't get depressed
Here's what we call our golden rule
Have faith in you and the things you do
You won't go wrong
This is our family Jewel

Ol' Red Eyes Is Here!

Don't be cruel

Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past

This I tell ya, brother/Ya can't have one without the other

And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

When you're in love, my how they fly

And I've got no defence for it/The heat is too intense for it

Ka-CHING!

I want you to remember

When life reaches out and takes you/On an unpleasant ride

It seems that I'm the only one...

*at Caritas*

Was there ever such a time?

*at Caritas*

*at the Hyperion*

*at Caritas*

at Caritas

at Caritas

at the Hyperion

at Caritas