(no subject)

i may already have read everything good ever written in ds.

alphabets with extra, cute little characters are sexy too.

i think it's that time of night where everything is funny. like dave barry. that's why dave barry is sexy, you know? he paints his lawn. he makes every date ever be october 8th because it's his son's birthday, and who needs the REAL dates? dave barry could molest people on the street and just say random stuff, and they'd go along with it. libertyginger and i are agreed.

my dog just licked himself until he yelped. o.O

come sleep, i'll turn the ocean into sky

where is my baby, bitch? WHERE?*

i have a long disjointed journal entry back on my computer which i'll treat you to later after the cable internet goes back up. meanwhile i'm stranded at the family dinosaur, attempting to print out the stuff i'm going to use to wrangle my way into creative writing. ::yawns and stretches:: my subconscious can't decide who is more MF harry: draco or snape. seriously, my dreams last night were all hp slash, all the time. there was some oddness (like a swimming competition, a field trip to the beach, some kind of, uh, airport), but they were still hp slash. seduced by snape, or having a secret affair with draco for some unspecified spying purpose? decisions, decisions. harry, you lucky bastard.

*well, babIES. any of them will do. ::kicks aim::

(no subject)

so maybe it's lunch time.

the letter of horrible pretentiousness has been written, but not mailed, to the creative writing professor. at least the fic snippet is nice. (it's the traffic jam one.)

earlier this morning, when the cable modem was down:

there can't be many ways to wake up better than being thwapped with a puppy's tail.

my subconscious is convinced of several things, not least of which is that snape should be trying to seduce harry on voldemort's orders. another one would be that hermione should be on the swim team. a third would be that the next main voldemort-henchman needs to be an evil villainess. villainous woman. yes. a teacher, though. although actually, there was also a dream with draco, and . hm. i guess it's better than dreaming about my mother dissolving. and after all, there was kissing. but i really really HATE the beach, for the record.

evidently the cable modem is down. this is going to be disjointed until then. i predict oatmeal for lunch, because i'm worried about taking too little food with the ibuprofen i'm so indiscriminately consuming. maybe it's because i'm getting older--the monthly attacks of lower back pain are worsening. i remember when the worst it ever was was one day, and this is now the third, which has been known to happen before, but it's usually a milder version. luckily (?), we're the kind of household where if you look just a little you find no less than five (5) opened bottles of ibuprofen.

what's wrong with my modem? arggggh.

and now i can't find my disk drive. this could be a major issue. i need my disk drive. really, really, really, really, really, really-- URK. a;ljfa;sjfa;lsjf.

excederme perseguirte pretenderte quiero amarte noche y día quiero gastarme la vida quiero amarrarte

and now ze lunch.

what a lovely lovely day.

la, la, la.

(no subject)

so i found a keychain in the desk drawer in the library. 'ahmad tea, london: the world's most exclusive tea.' huh. personally i like twining's. maybe that's plebian. anyway, it's better than class of '96 (which i was decidedly not in--waxlet was, and just look, she's bitter and aging--) so i'm going to put my keys on it. gold (well, brass) with green enamel, very cute. and i love tea. ::drinks some blackcurrant, sun-brewed::

someone please explain to me how avril lavigne can sing 'if you're trying to change me into someone else it's easy to see i'm not down with that' with a straight face.

hell, maybe she doesn't do it with a straight face.

but like.

i'm not DOWN with that?

the fucking HELL?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa...

and gip.

a;dsljf;asjf;asjf;asf!

apparently we're going out to eat to celebrate the fact that i'm going in six days.

actually, i think my parents' motivation is more like 'it's her last weekend ::sniffle::,' but we'll go with what i want. who's the princess, bitch?

that's right.

apparently we have to leave RIGHT now too.

mom: so where would you prefer? chili's or--?
me: i don't know. you pick.
mom: are we having a little trouble decision-making?
me: uuuurrrrrrrrrrrrk
mom: poor baby, you sound depressed. or is it tired.
me: tired.
dad: so are you getting up so we can leave soon?
me: ::to pillow:: mmph.
dad: ::knocks on wall::
me: WHAT.
dad: are you getting up so we can go?
me: MOM'S TAKING THE DOG OUT!!!!!
dad: ::goes away::

(no subject)

so we went out to eat and i ate too much. i feel sick. weh!

my new lover made me keys to the house and when we got home we just started chopping wood because yo

i'm sick. and my little dog is too. ::curls up::

i think i'm not really sick, my stomach is just distressed. oatmeal, here we come.

You stopped and pointed and you said, "That's a crocus,"
And I said, "What's a crocus?" and you said, "It's a flower,"
I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?"
You said, "I still love you."

!!!

warning on the back of a cigar box.

WARNING: this product contains/produces chemicals known to the state of california to cause cancer, and birth defects or other reproductive harm--

in other news we were seated about two yards from the bar tonight, which means we were closer to cigarettes than, well, than i've ever wanted to be to a cigarette. the people who were smoking left a while after we got there, though, without creating a very pervasive miasma, for which i'm grateful. it's not really their fault--i mean, one expects to smoke at a bar, right, and the restaurant, besides that, allows it. they should just not put the smoking section and the non-smoking section that close together.

well, really, if i could write the law, there'd be no smoking in eating establishments at all. but you can't blame the smokers for this.

(no subject)

Are you a Christmas pudding or a shed?

definitely pudding, if not something more liquid by now.

my GOD.

::melts and bubbles faintly::

shakespeare's insults

some of which are quoted [here], and all of which come from a lovely book which i own by wayne hill and cynthia öttchen.

"die a beggar."

"let's meet as little as we can."

"you lisp and wear strange suits."

( all's well that ends well, antony & cleopatra, and as you like it )