Oh, television Gods, why are you all such skanks?

[impy]

It's cold. Not chilly, or nippy, or any of the nine billion other ways I normally describe less than warm, but fucking cold. I've been cold for the past forever. The only times I'm warm are when I'm in the shower and choose to crank the hot water up to "boil lobster", when I walk through the hallway to my door [and this is particularly vexing since the hallway should be icy and my room should be warm, but nooooo. My room is an icebox], and when I snuggle under my pile of blankets while fully clothed. We're talking jeans, socks, hoodies over long sleeves, and the cat curled up next to me.

Not. Fun.

Almost through with my Gossip Girl marathon. I'd be done, but I can't seem to bring myself to watch the last two episodes yet because, well, then I won't have any more, and the allure of a new Jenny book is only so great, y'know? Fucking writer's strike is not doing anyone any favors. I don't watch reality programming [cuz, really, do re-runs of ANTM count as reality? Not even to Tyra.] and I've been reading like crazy or catching up on old shows only to weep openly at the lack of anything new coming my way anytime soon. Networks, if you keep this shit up, I'm going to be forced to...

Get an actual life.

I know, it's shocking, and what will we talk about if not for the TV shows we all aren't watching, but I will find a way to make it through the pain.

I should hunt down some socks. Fuzzy, warm socks.

But that involves moving. *muse*

Every so often I catch sight of a snip from the Real World and remember a time before it was all impossibly plastic skanks and super bitches looking to hook up with as many people as possible... and then I feel old.

Comments

[cauldroness.livejournal.com]

You need to move in with me, in my apartment with free and unrestricted heat. ^_^