I'm no VIP. I'm not even an IP

After the conversation with her father which is still being played out, la la la, Robin decided to just go home. And she didn't even stop for more booze. She had more pressing matters at hand.

"Benton?" she called, letting herself in and scritching an eager Popcorn on the head.

[for he who met his future father-in-law.]

Robin was still a goddamn triceratops.

At least she had plants now. That was something. But she could tell time well enough to figure out that she was missing her shift at the bar right now.

And now she just missed booze. Plants weren't even kind of the same. And don't get her started on how well Benton's little attempt to cheer her up had gone this morning.

At least she wasn't Robin Sparkles. Even if she was enormous. And scaly. And a dinosaur.

[YUP I AM HOME.]

Robin kind of toddled out to the living room to take care of the dogs while Benton was in the bathroom, doing whatever guy things he did in there. (Robin suspected shaving but you could never know.)

Unfortunately, when she got to a large open portion of her apartment, something very strange happened. She was suddenly very, very large, and bulky, and...scaly.

Robin gave an unhappy little...noise, and looked around to make sure she hadn't stepped on any dogs, as she was now a fucking triceratops.

What the hell. What the hell.

[just_add_starch has some severe mental issues and this is all her fault. FOR THE FIANCE.]

In a rare occurance, Robin woke up before Benton.

Why?

Because the finger on her left hand was hurting her. After stumbling to the bathroom to try to pry the ring off her much-bigger finger, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

"Oh, hey, it happened again." And as soon as she got the ring off, she immediately set to work admiring her oh so handsome face in said mirror. Sigh. She was so pretty in all forms.

[I'm basically just flooding your flists with pretty, yes.]

Once again, Robin was in a place she had never expected to be. But, she'd been brave and asked the night before, and he'd said yes, and she wasn't vomiting every hour on the hour as a result or anything.

And as non-traditional as she wanted to be about this, there was one thing that she knew they needed. (Well, three things, if they decided to look for the bands today, too.)

Plus, she wanted a big rock. If she was doing this, she wanted a really awesome ring. Like, the most awesome. (Part of her wanted a ring that would make Lily slap Marshall's arm and pout because hers was smaller, but that was petty. But true.)

In any case, Robin was a little uncomfortable as they entered the jewelry store. It was so clean, and everyone was in suits, and it smelled like a new car. Both awesome and weird. "I feel like I should be whispering," she whispered to Fraser.

Robin had been in a state of intense consideration for the last week or so. Truth be told, these thoughts of hers were hardly new; this was something that'd been rolling around in her mind for some time now, scaring her periodically.

Somewhere along the way, it had stopped scaring her quite so much, and she wasn't even sure how she felt about that.

What she did know was that she was getting sick of mentally avoiding it. So today, she'd taken the dogs for a long walk, and called her Lily for advice. (Yes, in the middle of the afternoon. Lily's kindergartners had been coloring, and Robin was mildly amazed at how many kids Lily had had to tell to stop eating their crayons during this talk of theirs.)

After getting off the phone with Lily, she had halted the walk, sat down right there with the dogs, and talked to them about it for awhile.

None of them seemed particularly concerned about the topic at hand. They weren't very helpful.

And now, she was letting herself into the apartment and resolutely not thinking about it. She wasn't back to avoiding thinking, exactly. She was just sort of resigned to her indecision. "Benton?"

[I guess there's a guy who lives here or something.]

Robin, in a rare bout of energy, had actually meandered out of bed with her boyfriend this morning, rather than helpfully watching him get dressed before going back to sleep.

It wasn't until she was idly putting on her makeup and scritching Popcorn's head that she noticed anything was off today.

"When she was twenty-two, the future looked bright
But she's nearly thirty now, and she's out every night
I see that look in her face -- she's got that look in her eye
She's thinking, "How did I get here?" and wondering why
It's sad but it's true how society says
Her life is already over
There's nothing to do and there's nothing to say
'Til the man of her dreams comes along picks her up and puts her over his shoulder
It seems so unlikely in this day and age"


"...crap. Not again."

[for the man of her dreams (but he'd best not pick her up and put her over his shoulder. She'd get all paranoid.)]

It was fairly late when Robin finally wandered out of the bedroom to greet the eager dogs, Popcorn actually scrabbling at her legs to get her to pick him up.

She was very busy cooing at him, and as a result, she didn't notice the man standing where her hockey stick had been propped up.

"Hello," he finally said, his accent thick.

"...um," Robin said to the young guy who looked ridiculously familiar. "Um, hi. Why are you in my apartment?"

It was a testament to how long she'd been in Fandom. She didn't freak out or drop the dog or anything.

[suresies, open. I couldn't resist. And yes, that is Mason Raymond, left wing for the Vancouver Canucks]

So! Apologies to everyone for being especially flakalicious today, and this week in general. My darling boyfriend has managed to ruin his car, which he uses to travel across the state, doing educational assemblies for small children. As a result, as these assemblies are (a) his livelihood and (b) a great way to make said wee ones cry, if you don't show -- I've become his method of transportation in this regard. (Or rather, my car has, because I let him drive 'cause he loves my car, blah blah tangent.)

In any case, I should be in great shape availability-wise -- or at least, normal shape -- as of the weekend, and apologies all around again, omg.

In other news, I really truly love this icon.

Robin was just going about her business, checking Facebook and wasting time on the internet as she so often did.

When the email sailed into her inbox, she was prepared to delete it like she did with all emails from that domain. Thank god she actually read it.

TO: [undisclosed recipients]
FROM: webmaster@popsource.net
SUBJECT: Warm Up for This Year's Musical Artists Convention!
BODY:

Hey, rockers!

Looking forward to our annual Musical Artists Convention? This year, we'll be featuring panels from of our most talented musicians, as well as perfomances, and as always, events to provide those important networking opportunities for you, whether it be to just catch up with your old touring buddies, or make brand new connections!

As you know, our convention choses a location from the homes of some of our members each year. The Summer 2009 Musical Artists Convention will be held in the picturesque town of Fandom, MD, and hosted by none other than Robin Sherbatsky, or as you might all know her, ROBIN SPARKLES!

Looking forward to seeing you all there!

Robin's, "WHAT?" could likely be heard across the island.

Followed by "THEY SPELLED MY NAME WRONG!"

[for he who will likely come running to laugh]

Robin, truth be told, did not exactly mind being a dog. She didn't have to work, and she could lie around all day, and she got to play with the real dogs more than she usually did. It kind of did not suck.

That being said, it wasn't an unwelcome surprise when she stretched on her bed as she woke on Wednesday morning and found that her skin was smooth and legs were long again. (And she was naked, as per usual.)

She shook her head at the staring dogs, retrieved one of Benton's shirts, and started for the bathroom to brush her teeth. It was necessary.

[establishy unless the bf wants to ping in!]

It had happened again.

Robin had been at home, lounging in front of the TV and drinking in her fill of amazingly bad reality TV one moment.

The next, she was still lounging in front of the TV, but she was a lot fuzzier, and the dogs were looking at her differently.

And when she opened her mouth, she barked.

Rocky was the most disturbed, honestly. Poor guy hadn't ever seen this before, and so he was anxiously sniffing at her before finally settling against her side, still seeming a little worried.

Robin, meanwhile, rest her head on her paws with a doggie sigh.

['stablishy, unless you live there and wanna ping in omg.]

Given the events of the past week, Robin hadn't wanted to talk when she'd finally gotten herself home and into bed last night. She'd, instead, quietly cuddled and clung to her boyfriend and dogs.

And really, she was doing her best to continue that trend, even if she needed a little assisstance, which came in the form of Popcorn, Peanut and Rocky dutifully following her to the bathroom, the kitchen, and around the apartment before she just gave up and crawled back into bed. The puppies flung themselves back on said bed, the bigger ones lying at the foot.

"We should get a ninth one," she decided, cuddling closer to the other non-canine.

[for he who I just modded in the bed. THAT'S RIGHT, YOU LIKE IT.]

Someone had turned twenty-nine earlier in the month. Unfortunately, someone had also been a zombie at the time.

Someone else was turning forty-seven the next day, when his girlfriend would be at work with zombies.

It was almost like a theme!

In any case, there were two birthdays being celebrated tonight, and Robin had even slaved away over a hot stove to make a cake-- or, you know, spent like ten minutes throwing it together and then awhile getting annoyed at frosting it. And she'd dressed up!

Well. Sort of.

She was wearing a pair of low-slung pajama pants and a tank top. Look, Benton had impressively low standards, and she was going to take advantage of them.

And now she was just cuddling with the dogs and trying to teach Rocky to shake hands. It wasn't really working.

[for the birthday booooy.]

Robin had not unpacked anything that wasn't vitally important (like, you know, things that weren't her hairdryer or toothbrush. The rest could live in the suitcases until she or Benton got tired of looking at it, she'd decided.)

She'd been a little busy catching up with those who'd spent the week in Fandom. Which was why she was lying on the couch with Sprinkles lying on her legs, both puppies on her stomach, Peanut tucked behind her head on the arm of the couch, and Pickles, Reeses, Dorito and Dief on the floor beside her.

She didn't really want to move, anyway.

[for the dogs and the guy she is NOT engaged to, omfg.]

Robin had said said some words she hadn't really anticipated saying, ever. And she wasn't scared.

(That was the Scotch, which Robin would argue was her motivation, except she wasn't nearly drunk enough for giggles and silliness to be the whole reason.)

She'd insisted on going back to their room, because she did want to wear something hot, even if it wasn't white. (It was new, though, and between her old groom, and his borrowed blue sock in her hand, she was covered.) And the thought occurred to call Lily, or Marshall, or Wade or Nate. But right now, she didn't really want anyone to snap her back to reality.

"This is way classier than the place where Lily and Marshall tried to elope," she told him as they found the chapel and were given pens for the paperwork.

[NFB, and only for the groom, please!]

Robin was dating an old guy. An old guy, more notably, who got up way earlier than her and did more on a daily basis than she did. As such, he had totally retired early when Robin decided to stay up and watch classic football games on cable instead.

She did him a solid and took the dogs out, and her night was relatively boring until Rocky came sleepily padding out of the bedroom, whining. She cuddled him as she finished off the last of her glass of wine, and put him over with the other boys, where he immediately curled up on top of Dorito's leg.

This was her life now. Might as well get married, if she wasn't going to be able to have sex and was going to be reduced to a pajama-wearing, couch-dwelling TV-watcher. Though there was the cruise. She'd pack for that tomorrow.

For now, though, she just got ready for bed and slipped in beside Benton, and cuddled up against him. "You awake, babe?"

[TOTES TECHNICALLY SATURDAY MORNING. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, BOW-CHICKA-WOW. And as such, NFB, since post-radio!]

Robin arrived home in something of a mood today. Given how tired they'd both been from the weekend and work yesterday, she and Benton hadn't had any of the fun naked perks of being in a relationship in a couple days.

Don't worry. Robin intended to amend that.

"Benton?" she called, closing the door behind her and scritching the dogs' ears absently when they came to greet her.

[MWAHAHAHAHHAA. For her partner in failure.]