My house is flooded. Not remotely amused by this fact. Nope.
I owe people stuff (fic, emails, calls, chat) so if that's you, I'm really ridiculously sorry. I'll get to the urgent stuff over the next couple of days, but I've no reliable net access (I'm at my aunt's hotel, there's a few of us around), so please bear with me.
- Mood: exhausted
Seriously, there was enough capslock moments in that episode that I really kinda wished that I smoked. Will be re-watching and squeeing all over the place - just let me get over the refractory period first :D
- Mood: exhausted
- Mood: contemplative
- Music:rogue traders, voodoo child
Unless you literally have less than five minutes to live, you need to go and read this post, right now. No excuses.
If you'll excuse me, I have emails to write.
- Mood:fucking furious
At first glance, it may appear that morality is a complex and knotty issue, used as it is in arguments concerning such wide-ranging issues as marriage, parenthood, free speech, immigration, medical ethics and sexual relations. Do not be fooled. When a person disagrees with you on moral grounds, what they usually mean is 'I have an ingrained prejudice against your point of view, it's just that I can't come up with a reasoned, logical argument which adequately defends my own.'
On the one hand, I... really don't need another fandom right now.
On the other hand, there's Adrian Pasdar, currently causing an all-girl cat-fight in our house (and btw, Mr Pasdar if you're reading this shut up Lou I can dream we can absolutely make that an all-girl naked mud-wrestling session, just say the word*).
*blinks* I'm sure... I was saying something... I hope it wasn't important...
*It can be any word. We're none of us fussy here.
- Mood: horny
He has: the king flush. I have: the lowest possible straight, which is on the board. In other words, diddly-squat. I go all-in.
He waits. And waits. And waits....
Folds! Yes!! I win!!!
(I can't keep winning like this... too much excitement. 'M getting old!)
- Mood: ecstatic
Imagine, if you will, that you are Anakin Skywalker. You live on Tatooine, famous galaxy-wide as the planet so far up the arsehole of nowhere that it's ruled by slugs and there's nothing to do, so you have to make your own entertainment. You are, let's face it, one kick-ass mechanic.
So why would you build yourself C-3PO, fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, all of them equally annoying?
To the dark side, protocol belongs. If only they'd known... *g*
- Mood: geeky
Oooh love, don't ever get old will you?
Sure, pass me a sword and I'll commit hara-kiri right here.
Do you sell lemons?
No! Don't be stupid! Why would 'The Fruit Shop' (highly imaginative name, that) sell lemons? Are they a fruit?
Do you sell potato mashers/corkscrews/salmon/tin openers?
BWAHAHAHAomigodyou're not actually joking, are you? Um, 'The Fruit Shop'. As in, shop that sells fruit.
Where are your mushrooms?
You're... actually stood right in front of them. So close it's not even funny.
Where are your carrots?
Where they were the last time you came in. And the time before that. And the time before...
Why are those potatoes dirty, Mum?
Please to be taking the small child away before I ask what they're teaching in schools these days. It makes me feel old.
I don't know, sweetheart. Excuse me, why are these potatoes so dirty?
asfgjsal;HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT?!
What time does the bus leave/the picture shop open/ the toilets close?
Do I look like the Tourist Information Service?
And finally, my personal (non-)favourite
It's a lovely/wet/horrible/sunny day?
Really? I would never have guessed, y'know? Not like I have oh, eyes say, or windows.
Either I relentlessly extract the urine, or I reach the end of the proverbial tether and have a 'Take Your Rifle To Work Day'. Why yes, I am a bitch ^^
- Mood: bitchy