![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosI forgot to tape Project Runway last night because I'm a dumbass. (I seriously need to get TiVo. You know, when I win the lottery or sell a kidney or something.) But I checked out the TWoP recaplet to tide me over and aw, Malan. I really did kind of like him, because as slimy as he was, he wasn't so bad. God knows we've had worse on this show -- being a bit arrogant is sort of par for the course on here.
And I'd already been spoiled on the Miss USA thing (although, "American royalty"? I should have been able to figure it out just from that and the silhouette), so I figured Kayne would take it. I mean, honestly, the guy makes pageantwear for a living. He knows what he's doing. *cuddles my little redheaded puppy*
I'm still confused why the hell Vincent's still there. Crazy nutball. I'd be more afraid to be trapped in the same room with him than with Malan any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
Three more twelve-hour work days in a row to get through. Sheesh. It doesn't really help that last night I worked with the person who annoys me more than anybody else at work. The worst part is that she's genuinely a nice person and isn't lazy, but at the same time I've eaten stacks of pancakes that can retain more knowledge. She's been at work two months -- more than long enough to know what she's doing -- but every time we share a machine I'm answering the same five bajillion stupid questions over and over and OVER again. (She's no Captain Asshat, but now I can't decide what's worse -- somebody who grates on my nerves by thinking he knows everything, or somebody who grates on my nerves by thinking she knows nothing.)
I'm so freaking tired right now. I could really go for a real, honest-to-goodness vacation and I won't even get one until Winchestercon. I feel like I should beg for porn or happy thoughts or jokes or something, but mostly I just want to curl up in Jensen Ackles's lap with a bottle of tequila and DIE. And I don't even like tequila. *grumps*
And I'd already been spoiled on the Miss USA thing (although, "American royalty"? I should have been able to figure it out just from that and the silhouette), so I figured Kayne would take it. I mean, honestly, the guy makes pageantwear for a living. He knows what he's doing. *cuddles my little redheaded puppy*
I'm still confused why the hell Vincent's still there. Crazy nutball. I'd be more afraid to be trapped in the same room with him than with Malan any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
Three more twelve-hour work days in a row to get through. Sheesh. It doesn't really help that last night I worked with the person who annoys me more than anybody else at work. The worst part is that she's genuinely a nice person and isn't lazy, but at the same time I've eaten stacks of pancakes that can retain more knowledge. She's been at work two months -- more than long enough to know what she's doing -- but every time we share a machine I'm answering the same five bajillion stupid questions over and over and OVER again. (She's no Captain Asshat, but now I can't decide what's worse -- somebody who grates on my nerves by thinking he knows everything, or somebody who grates on my nerves by thinking she knows nothing.)
I'm so freaking tired right now. I could really go for a real, honest-to-goodness vacation and I won't even get one until Winchestercon. I feel like I should beg for porn or happy thoughts or jokes or something, but mostly I just want to curl up in Jensen Ackles's lap with a bottle of tequila and DIE. And I don't even like tequila. *grumps*
