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Mums keeps asking me what I want for my birthday and... I dunno. Currently the list is a little wonkier than usual:
Re-released Gossip Girl books with the fun covers. Might as well hold out for Blair before everyone else.
Tall, skinny bookcase. Which is really just a normal height, but skinny.
Any of the brunette Delanceys I don't have. [I think I've got most of the blondes that I want, and besides, this isn't going to happen around here anyway]
Stuff for Kirsten. Because she's kindly informed me that she's got... one outfit that's actually hers.
Paid LT account/cuecat thingie. Because I'm a book dork.
Finish off my SVH/SVU collection, or make a bigger dent in my SVT/Kids collections.
Sadly, that's about it. Not exactly the most likely of birthday lists. On the other hand, I've got a little time. [/obligatory month til my birthday squee]
Sigh. Sometimes I forget that Holly Black and various other authors whose work I love back Cassandra Clare. And then my brain, she tingles and says, "hey, isn't she the plagiarist, at least in fanfic form who still managed to wrangle a book deal?" and then I weep and resume Not Learning Anything About Authors I Like.
It's like that moment in 7th grade when I learned that my English teacher, perhaps the best teacher I'd had in... ever, and certainly the most memorable [no lie], could not see that the bitchy popular girl was just that. Bitchy to EVERYONE she perceived as below her. He thought she was funny and a fantastic student and I was scolded [gently, but still] for remarking, in my own journal, that perhaps I would be a little less than sad if she'd ever just leave town. Forever.
My heart? She broke into a thousand pieces that day. I expected better. So, as awesome as he was, I still couldn't look at him in quite the same way because he was still blind to the evil bitch who made my life from third grade onward fucking miserable. She was also where I learned what exactly bitch face was, even before I knew the phrase.
So. I'm going to forget this again, as I always do, until I next come across the same tidbit and again spiral into tizzy.
Luckily, this tizzy comes with sugar.
Re-released Gossip Girl books with the fun covers. Might as well hold out for Blair before everyone else.
Tall, skinny bookcase. Which is really just a normal height, but skinny.
Any of the brunette Delanceys I don't have. [I think I've got most of the blondes that I want, and besides, this isn't going to happen around here anyway]
Stuff for Kirsten. Because she's kindly informed me that she's got... one outfit that's actually hers.
Paid LT account/cuecat thingie. Because I'm a book dork.
Finish off my SVH/SVU collection, or make a bigger dent in my SVT/Kids collections.
Sadly, that's about it. Not exactly the most likely of birthday lists. On the other hand, I've got a little time. [/obligatory month til my birthday squee]
Sigh. Sometimes I forget that Holly Black and various other authors whose work I love back Cassandra Clare. And then my brain, she tingles and says, "hey, isn't she the plagiarist, at least in fanfic form who still managed to wrangle a book deal?" and then I weep and resume Not Learning Anything About Authors I Like.
It's like that moment in 7th grade when I learned that my English teacher, perhaps the best teacher I'd had in... ever, and certainly the most memorable [no lie], could not see that the bitchy popular girl was just that. Bitchy to EVERYONE she perceived as below her. He thought she was funny and a fantastic student and I was scolded [gently, but still] for remarking, in my own journal, that perhaps I would be a little less than sad if she'd ever just leave town. Forever.
My heart? She broke into a thousand pieces that day. I expected better. So, as awesome as he was, I still couldn't look at him in quite the same way because he was still blind to the evil bitch who made my life from third grade onward fucking miserable. She was also where I learned what exactly bitch face was, even before I knew the phrase.
So. I'm going to forget this again, as I always do, until I next come across the same tidbit and again spiral into tizzy.
Luckily, this tizzy comes with sugar.