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Argh. Got up early to work on editing "Dead Men in Dark Suits." Grrr ... only in my crappy-ass life does getting up early involve rolling my sorry butt out of bed at the crack of early afternoon.
Sheesh. Editing rots. I can't wait until this weekend, when I can go out, see "The Hulk," head to the bar and get buzzed, then come home and break something.
Hee. I could have sworn my printer skittered away from me when I typed that. Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, you little bastard. Better recognize. Bam! Jenn! Superbitch! I'll go ballistic on your ass. I swear, all they'll find is a leaking ink cartridge and one of those spinny things shoved through a tree trunk.
Also, the new Harry Potter comes out in four days. Every time someone says it to me like that, I half-expect photos of Daniel Radcliffe to show up on the Internet on Saturday dressed up like Hugo Weaving in most of "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" and deep-throating Alan Rickman. And that, my friends, is when I know real fear.
Oh, and before I forget, in response to the anonymous poster down below who followed up on my talking-to-my-younger-self questions, and my God, I can't believe I'm going to be a big dumbass and say this, but I'm about to do it anyway ...
Dale? Is that you?
(And if it isn't ... well, hell. Watch me with the lack of surprise. I suck at this game anyway. Now if it were rock, paper, scissors, my friend, you'd be going dooooooown.)
Sheesh. Editing rots. I can't wait until this weekend, when I can go out, see "The Hulk," head to the bar and get buzzed, then come home and break something.
Hee. I could have sworn my printer skittered away from me when I typed that. Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, you little bastard. Better recognize. Bam! Jenn! Superbitch! I'll go ballistic on your ass. I swear, all they'll find is a leaking ink cartridge and one of those spinny things shoved through a tree trunk.
Also, the new Harry Potter comes out in four days. Every time someone says it to me like that, I half-expect photos of Daniel Radcliffe to show up on the Internet on Saturday dressed up like Hugo Weaving in most of "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" and deep-throating Alan Rickman. And that, my friends, is when I know real fear.
Oh, and before I forget, in response to the anonymous poster down below who followed up on my talking-to-my-younger-self questions, and my God, I can't believe I'm going to be a big dumbass and say this, but I'm about to do it anyway ...
Dale? Is that you?
(And if it isn't ... well, hell. Watch me with the lack of surprise. I suck at this game anyway. Now if it were rock, paper, scissors, my friend, you'd be going dooooooown.)
