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apocalypsosI'm very tired. Very. I haven't slept more than four hours in a row since Thursday. I don't know why, exactly. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that my brain is hopping around in my head and going, "I want to play! I want to play!" while my body pipes up in a whiny voice that I haven't eaten anything more substantial than iced tea and tuna fish sandwiches since Sunday.
Probably wouldn't be all that bad, in theory, but my brain's now decided to play naughty, naughty games with its Jack Sparrow, Spike, and Severus Snape dolls, and my body refuses to move even it means going down to the kitchen and skewering my eyes with barbecue forks to get the mental image out.
I swear, I didn't start out this slashy. PotC did this to me, damn it. I'd complain more, but I think it's really nice that Disney's corrupting me in the opposite direction for once, with visions of pretty pirates making out with one another dancing in my head. (Hey, and now there's waltzing. That's a neat trick. Wonder what would happen if I said, "visions of pretty pirates making out with one another shagging like bunnies in my ..." Ooo, there it is. Mmmmm ... niiiiiice.)
*happy sigh*
So maybe later I'll go outside and get a tan. Okay, fine, when I say, "tan," I meant "slightly darker shade of the pale I already am." Okay, when I say, "slightly darker shade of the pale I already am," I mean, "dark enough so that I won't look quite so much like the little clear-plastic, innards-filled people in biology class."
All right, first crack about my lack of height and/or melanin and someone gets onions in their underpants drawer. (Yeah, it's nasty. But if nothing else, think of the new pick-up line you could use! "Hey, baby, want to come home with me and cry yourself to sleep?")
Hee. I love Da Vinci's Notebook. *sigh* Sing me to sleep, fellas ...
Probably wouldn't be all that bad, in theory, but my brain's now decided to play naughty, naughty games with its Jack Sparrow, Spike, and Severus Snape dolls, and my body refuses to move even it means going down to the kitchen and skewering my eyes with barbecue forks to get the mental image out.
I swear, I didn't start out this slashy. PotC did this to me, damn it. I'd complain more, but I think it's really nice that Disney's corrupting me in the opposite direction for once, with visions of pretty pirates making out with one another dancing in my head. (Hey, and now there's waltzing. That's a neat trick. Wonder what would happen if I said, "visions of pretty pirates making out with one another shagging like bunnies in my ..." Ooo, there it is. Mmmmm ... niiiiiice.)
*happy sigh*
So maybe later I'll go outside and get a tan. Okay, fine, when I say, "tan," I meant "slightly darker shade of the pale I already am." Okay, when I say, "slightly darker shade of the pale I already am," I mean, "dark enough so that I won't look quite so much like the little clear-plastic, innards-filled people in biology class."
All right, first crack about my lack of height and/or melanin and someone gets onions in their underpants drawer. (Yeah, it's nasty. But if nothing else, think of the new pick-up line you could use! "Hey, baby, want to come home with me and cry yourself to sleep?")
Hee. I love Da Vinci's Notebook. *sigh* Sing me to sleep, fellas ...
