apocalypsos | (no subject)

I went through my user icons and cleared out the ones I don't use or don't like anymore. I went from ninety-two icons to fifty-six. Well, I guess I'll just have to make more icons. :) (Yeah, like I needed an excuse with a shiny new fandom with hot guys in it.)

On today's agenda ... first and foremost is cleaning the apartment. I don't want to have any moment this weekend of wanting to do something and thinking, "But the dishes need to be done!" Also, I'm definitely getting the short, fluffy Supernatural fic (well, as fluffy as SPN can be) out of the way today, if not the AU one as well. What do you do for four days at work when you can't bring your Alpha Smart or headphones and the sound of other people talking distracts you? You sit in a relatively quiet corner on the factory floor (you know, the place farthest from the roaring machines) on breaks and lunch like an antisocial twit and you scribble story notes in a notebook until you get carpal tunnel. *sigh* The same goes for the notes for my

yuletide story, which I'm pretty sure I'll be motivated to type up just as soon as the upload page shows up.

My Pandora just played "If You Want Blood" by AC/DC. I really wish the government would make gay marriage legal already so that society can collapse and the world can end and kittens and puppies can rain from the sky like they're supposed to when that law passes, because then I should be able to get away with marrying my Pandora. You know, right after I divorce my toaster.

EDIT: I'm pretty sure I've discovered the secret of being a morning person. It involves staying up from the night before and only eating Runts. *bounces around the apartment like a spazz*

Also, you know one thing I miss about Virginia? Being able to go to a mini-mart and buy booze. *grumbles*

OTHER EDIT: Oh, and if one more co-worker tells me that I shouldn't mention that I'm writing a book at work because if I so much as mention anything remotely related to the factory (like, say, music or Pennsylvania or a job) they'll sue me and keep any money I make from selling the book, I'm going to smack them. Shut UP, you dingbats.

Oh, and thanks to the very nice co-worker who insisted on asking me for ten straight minutes if I read the Bible everyday and why I should, I've ground my teeth down to the gums. Um, lady, you're nice and all, but when you ask me what I think of Jesus and there's a long awkward pause before I say, "Well, he seems like a very nice historical figure and philosopher," this might be your signal to drop it. I need a sign that I can hold up at times like this that says, "My family tried for the first thirteen years of my life to get me to be a church-going Christian. What the hell makes you think your sales pitch will be any better?" (You'd think you'd try to avoid something like that with someone whose main reaction to the machine going down was to exclaim, "Oh, BALLS!" and who made a habit of walking around singing a made-up song which only featured the word "Fuck" as a lyric.)

OTHER, OTHER EDIT: Egads! The grated coconut is attacking us from the heavens!

Oh, wait, that's just snow. Never mind.

OTHER, OTHER, OTHER EDIT: Spoilers for this week's Veronica Mars in the comments, just as a warning.