tralala

i was sleeping on the floor in the livingroom and dad woke me at 5 am putting out the santa presents. i reminded him to eat the cookies and take santa's letter, but he didn't. lillian was very disappointed. 'we didn't think she still believed in santa,' mom said. despite all the fuss with the presents.

morons.

so i guess they woke me around 8. the most momentous presents were great quantities of chocolate, but there was also an origami brooch from the great aunt and uncle who already gave me silk scarves, a little stuffed reindeer from lillian, and from my parents, a good stack of zelazny books, an antique children's book about the peace corps (...^.~)(my dad is SO CUTE), a shirt, a furry green vellux blanket, and a giant hardback of pre-raphealites called the ESSENTIAL pre-raphaelites (don't leave home without it). and more chocolate. and more chocolate. and some money, which is good, seeing that i used the last of my cash yesterday on a tiara.

speaking of which, pictures have been promised, haven't they? later.

(no subject)

merry christmas, and all that. yeah.

special kisses to all my special darlings, whether they liked ttt or not.

(no subject)

why does everyone make such a big deal over rear window? it's cute, sure. vertigo is much scarier. and rw could be much more hitchcockianly convoluted and stuff.

eh.

grace kelly: whoa.

i'm just sayin'

cimorene111: how much would you pay to hear viggo reading phone sex poetry?
thechaosdiva: 324593468713467103469203780948752421 dollars

what bothers me about christmas?

well, among other things...

( religion. )

austen adaptations. and the library.

mom and i are agreed the recent movie version of mansfield park differs substantially from the novel, but neither of us can remember the novel, so we can only guess at the changes. (well, in some cases. in flagrante delicto? slavery? austen? hah.) most annoyingly, i now cannot find mansfield park on the shelves. i know i have northanger abbey and p&p at school, but i didn't take any of the others there at all, so they must be here--in our recently-reorganized library. but there doesn't seem to be a section for literature. surely austen wouldn't be with the romances? grargh.

and gip.

mmmyeah ::fizzle::

and again and again

i slept the afternoon away after taking some pictures with lillian (or, well, mom took them). time sense is fucked. stomach is unhappy. had panicky thought today that if i did somehow manage to speed up time for the next 12 days, then what's to say the time wouldn't speed by in finland as well? i immediately dug in my heels. maybe if i, um, paint the bathroom and make curtains? everything will be all right.

i found my very-eowyn-like-dress stuffed in mom's closet. it's black, and has tight sleeves, not belled. it needs to be washed. but pictures of that will undoubtedly be forthcoming as well. trifle was served and the stupid stomach made me pass, and i desperately fear they may be watching a movie i don't want to see in the living room.

and another gip. i traded the other eowyn for this. i can't resist the dress. and who can?

i hurt.

shhhhhhhhhhhh it's a secret

HEY CLAIRE. IF ELIJAH WANTS TO FUCK PR HE WILL MAKE A PEACE SIGN WITH HIS LEFT HAND, PASS IT ON TO THE MAN WITH THE BROWN PAPER PACKAGE AT THE THIRD FROM LAST GREEN TRASHCAN ON MAIN STREET IN FRONT OF THE COURT HOUSE.