Can't sleep, Gilmores will eat me
Oct. 10th, 2005 01:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impySo, I spent yesterday earning myself a giant headache. Fun this was not. How did I pull this off? I spent most of the afternoon and early evening cleaning my bathroom. Which wasn't so much disgusting as it was annoying and tedious and perhaps a little dusty. It didn't help when I fell off the damn chair and hit the floor, knocking my head on the chair that I just fell off of. Yes, I was in fine form.
Funtastic. I then watched blips of The Surreal Life which ate what little brain cells I had left as I wondered what kind of people would prefer the raging bitch-a-holic to overly plastic surgery-ized Janice. What an odd, odd world. *shrug*
Then there was the marathon of Gilmore Girls S2 as I did my laundry. Marathon is a big word. It was more like... tiny one disc-a-thon. I can't wait til I have money and S3 is on sale. Some day.
I'm dying waiting for word on whether Rovam made it to Kat okay, and wondering what happens next. Dying I tell you. DYING. I refuse to look at other people's pictures and yet, at the same time... she's so cute.
dying.
Still at the library, in case you wondered. Pray for Friday, folks. If I don't get my phone back, I will be most displeased. Yes. Displeased.
Oh. Started this morning off my changing the posters and wall scrolls in my room. The bathroom is now home to three sailormoon wallscrolls and the my chemical romance poster is now up on my wall. Unfortunately I left room for the little bitty poster I aquired from a horrid teenybopper mag, only realizing later that I don't really want to put it up on my wall yet. Still no room for Amy Lee. Yet.
I'm bored. I bet you are too. So you should write me. A nice long letter. or a postcard. I love postcards. Or you could skip all that and buy me the bat or cat skirts. You know you want Princi and Alice and everyone else to have them. You know it.
You know what sucks? Realizing that every friggin' sunday for the last... god knows how many weeks, I've called miss c-ass and she's always in the middle of some get together 'm not invited to. And she's managed to convince me that next weekend we should have a comic-a-thon, so she can come over and read the Purgatoris and Chastitys and possibly Lady Deaths I have. And she can show off and, in theory, let me read the ones she has recently gotten her hands on. Which should be fun, but at the same time my feelings are a bit hurt. For the last few months I've had Monday and Sunday off regularly. Does anyone make plans to see me? No. No they do not. These people suck massively.
And I do not like thinking at a library keyboard with people walking behind me.
I think I'm paranoid
Funtastic. I then watched blips of The Surreal Life which ate what little brain cells I had left as I wondered what kind of people would prefer the raging bitch-a-holic to overly plastic surgery-ized Janice. What an odd, odd world. *shrug*
Then there was the marathon of Gilmore Girls S2 as I did my laundry. Marathon is a big word. It was more like... tiny one disc-a-thon. I can't wait til I have money and S3 is on sale. Some day.
I'm dying waiting for word on whether Rovam made it to Kat okay, and wondering what happens next. Dying I tell you. DYING. I refuse to look at other people's pictures and yet, at the same time... she's so cute.
dying.
Still at the library, in case you wondered. Pray for Friday, folks. If I don't get my phone back, I will be most displeased. Yes. Displeased.
Oh. Started this morning off my changing the posters and wall scrolls in my room. The bathroom is now home to three sailormoon wallscrolls and the my chemical romance poster is now up on my wall. Unfortunately I left room for the little bitty poster I aquired from a horrid teenybopper mag, only realizing later that I don't really want to put it up on my wall yet. Still no room for Amy Lee. Yet.
I'm bored. I bet you are too. So you should write me. A nice long letter. or a postcard. I love postcards. Or you could skip all that and buy me the bat or cat skirts. You know you want Princi and Alice and everyone else to have them. You know it.
You know what sucks? Realizing that every friggin' sunday for the last... god knows how many weeks, I've called miss c-ass and she's always in the middle of some get together 'm not invited to. And she's managed to convince me that next weekend we should have a comic-a-thon, so she can come over and read the Purgatoris and Chastitys and possibly Lady Deaths I have. And she can show off and, in theory, let me read the ones she has recently gotten her hands on. Which should be fun, but at the same time my feelings are a bit hurt. For the last few months I've had Monday and Sunday off regularly. Does anyone make plans to see me? No. No they do not. These people suck massively.
And I do not like thinking at a library keyboard with people walking behind me.
I think I'm paranoid
