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Dec. 7th, 2005 03:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosDear warmth,
I'm sorry. I heartily apologize for anything I might have said or done to offend you and wish to give you this lovely cheesecake I baked for you. Please come back to me. We can even go off for a romantic weekend in the Poconos to sort out our problems. Of which there are none, I should point out, because I love you to pieces just the way you are. So, you know, if I said your ass was fat or something ... my bad.
Sincerely,
Me
In summation, I hate winter. Grrrr.
LJ keeps sending me comments from weeks ago, and forgetting one or two comments from lately. I feel like I'm time-travelling on a budget of loose pocket change. (I initially typed "LK" instead of "LJ", leading to the fleeting mental image as I corrected it of Laurell K. Hamilton ocassionally sending me email comments out of the blue saying stuff like, "You are too stressed out and need to get laid in an unimaginative and sadly pedestrian way.")
I want the weekend to come already. And I don't know why, but I told my mother I'd go up to their house on Saturday night because they're going away for the weekend and they don't trust my brother not to ... I don't know, dip the cats in pudding or use them as slave labor or something. I know exactly what I'll find when I go up there, too -- a nineteen-year-old boy crashed out on the couch in boxer shorts while playing video games on the bigscreen TV and eating a healthy dinner of Doritos and one of my mom's Smirnoffs. Well, I suppose at least it's good he won't be blowing up the house or something, but damn it, I don't want to go up there. I just want to come home on Saturday morning, crawl into a cocoon of blankets with my computer, three bottles of Pepsi, and a bag of Cheetos, and hibernate for four straight days. *sigh*
In other news, I'm all hopped up to write and post some goddamn fic and it's made infinitely more difficult by my job's policy not to let you bring electronics into the factory. Yeah, like I give enough of a damn about what goes on in there to commit piracy with my AlphaSmart. The only way I'm going to commit piracy with my AlphaSmart is by using it to steer a ship full of real fucking pirates. Sheesh.
Speaking of fic, words cannot express how much I want fic for Christmas. I mean, I'm getting fic for Christmas from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide but I want more fic. That should be a meme. You want fic for the holidays, you just say what you want, and if anybody gets inspired and writes you something, even something small, you get to feel all warm and fuzzy. I mean, heck, almost everybody I know requested it on their wishlist anyway.
EDIT: Well, it goes to show what this season of TAR has done to me that I didn't bother to tape it last night even though it was apparently a new episode because I didn't care enough to remember, and would have watched the Supernatural rerun even if I had been home even though I think it was "Wendigo" and that's my second least-favorite episode, and only figured out there was a new episode when I hit TWoP just now.
Remember when the Godlewskis won every damn leg and they're not even in the final three now? I'd say "HEE," but after this season, I find that wrong somehow. And I'll be the first one to argue that you can't pull out your A-game early and then fall apart near the end, but ... yeah.
The Linzes had better win. Because yeah, they're not the most mature guys on the planet, but they're guys in their early twenties and their tagalong sister. I'm not expecting a hell of a lot of maturity here. On the other hand, if we're grading them on how they treat others instead of their sense of humor, they come out ahead.
The Bransens can win, too, although I'm bitter that the girls have spent the entire race dragging Wally around and I couldn't even tell you the names of the girls, much less which is which. On the other hand, they've flown under the radar (way, way, waaaaay under the radar) by just running the damn race and not being obnoxious.
The Weavers ... well, you know me. If they win, it proves evil can triumph over good, because good is stupid. Then again, if they win, I can totally see the crew arming the other teams at the finish line with rotten tomatoes.
Please tell me when it's next season. And that the producers have learned from their mistakes and have actually, you know, fixed the fucking things instead of emphasizing them and giving them more screentime.
I'm sorry. I heartily apologize for anything I might have said or done to offend you and wish to give you this lovely cheesecake I baked for you. Please come back to me. We can even go off for a romantic weekend in the Poconos to sort out our problems. Of which there are none, I should point out, because I love you to pieces just the way you are. So, you know, if I said your ass was fat or something ... my bad.
Sincerely,
Me
In summation, I hate winter. Grrrr.
LJ keeps sending me comments from weeks ago, and forgetting one or two comments from lately. I feel like I'm time-travelling on a budget of loose pocket change. (I initially typed "LK" instead of "LJ", leading to the fleeting mental image as I corrected it of Laurell K. Hamilton ocassionally sending me email comments out of the blue saying stuff like, "You are too stressed out and need to get laid in an unimaginative and sadly pedestrian way.")
I want the weekend to come already. And I don't know why, but I told my mother I'd go up to their house on Saturday night because they're going away for the weekend and they don't trust my brother not to ... I don't know, dip the cats in pudding or use them as slave labor or something. I know exactly what I'll find when I go up there, too -- a nineteen-year-old boy crashed out on the couch in boxer shorts while playing video games on the bigscreen TV and eating a healthy dinner of Doritos and one of my mom's Smirnoffs. Well, I suppose at least it's good he won't be blowing up the house or something, but damn it, I don't want to go up there. I just want to come home on Saturday morning, crawl into a cocoon of blankets with my computer, three bottles of Pepsi, and a bag of Cheetos, and hibernate for four straight days. *sigh*
In other news, I'm all hopped up to write and post some goddamn fic and it's made infinitely more difficult by my job's policy not to let you bring electronics into the factory. Yeah, like I give enough of a damn about what goes on in there to commit piracy with my AlphaSmart. The only way I'm going to commit piracy with my AlphaSmart is by using it to steer a ship full of real fucking pirates. Sheesh.
Speaking of fic, words cannot express how much I want fic for Christmas. I mean, I'm getting fic for Christmas from
yuletide but I want more fic. That should be a meme. You want fic for the holidays, you just say what you want, and if anybody gets inspired and writes you something, even something small, you get to feel all warm and fuzzy. I mean, heck, almost everybody I know requested it on their wishlist anyway.EDIT: Well, it goes to show what this season of TAR has done to me that I didn't bother to tape it last night even though it was apparently a new episode because I didn't care enough to remember, and would have watched the Supernatural rerun even if I had been home even though I think it was "Wendigo" and that's my second least-favorite episode, and only figured out there was a new episode when I hit TWoP just now.
Remember when the Godlewskis won every damn leg and they're not even in the final three now? I'd say "HEE," but after this season, I find that wrong somehow. And I'll be the first one to argue that you can't pull out your A-game early and then fall apart near the end, but ... yeah.
The Linzes had better win. Because yeah, they're not the most mature guys on the planet, but they're guys in their early twenties and their tagalong sister. I'm not expecting a hell of a lot of maturity here. On the other hand, if we're grading them on how they treat others instead of their sense of humor, they come out ahead.
The Bransens can win, too, although I'm bitter that the girls have spent the entire race dragging Wally around and I couldn't even tell you the names of the girls, much less which is which. On the other hand, they've flown under the radar (way, way, waaaaay under the radar) by just running the damn race and not being obnoxious.
The Weavers ... well, you know me. If they win, it proves evil can triumph over good, because good is stupid. Then again, if they win, I can totally see the crew arming the other teams at the finish line with rotten tomatoes.
Please tell me when it's next season. And that the producers have learned from their mistakes and have actually, you know, fixed the fucking things instead of emphasizing them and giving them more screentime.
