She's making the baby Jesus cry
Apr. 13th, 2009 01:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impyIt took forever, but I finally, finally finished watching Season Three of Supernatural. I would have finished sooner, but damn it, I was going to not rely on the DVDs and instead rely on my own iffy recording practices.
Yeah, see, digital sucks ass. A squirrel sneezes and the CW affiliate here dies. Green screen of death. So, even on the nights I did remember to set things up and the recording did, in fact, happen, you're still not guaranteed an episode. Anyway. I would have enjoyed the end run so much more if TV Guide hadn't spoiled the goddamned ending for me a week or two after the finale aired. [Seriously, guys, each time you post a real spoiler on the cover, I want to hunt you down and kick you in the important bits.]
Luckily, with the Ghostfacers episode out of the way, we'd passed most of the filler, although, truthfully, I expected a little more from Long Distance Call.
Ahem. A moment. Turn away if you must: STOP INVITING YOUR HUSBAND ALONG. If you've been bitching the last two weeks about how you need a break from him, then DON'T BRING HIM. JESUS. I swear, sometimes I think she killed all of her braincells for fun. It hurts, the stupidity does. She didn't used to be this dumb. I was going to say dense, but yeah, that'd be a bit of a lie. It's just that before you could sort of outfox her. So either I'm a little rusty, or her drug use and love of zee booze killed off braincells that were essential after all.
So. Back to Dean. Lillith. Ah, creepy children. Creepy child on the swing-set. I can't sleep until I find something to erase that two second blip from my memory. How wrong is that?
...Christonastick. I'm going to bed in a second because if I continue to speak to her, or to think about this, I'm going to say this to her face and there are things you just should not say. If you and your husband are both unemployed and I'm fairly certain he cannot get unemployment because of the whole failing the drug test thing, and he's got a job, temp or otherwise, at the asscrack of dawn, who the hell decides to go to the one friend who seems to believe livers are for suckers? It's 1am. Perfectly legit time for the drinking. I get that. But um, yeah. You're behind on your rent to the tune of being thrown out. So you can drink your troubles away or you can fix the mess.
No. Neither of you can come over and watch Supernatural now. That's right. He drank his gig away in the morning and he drank your ability to watch what the hell happens to the Winchester boys.
Yeah. Bedtime. Hell puns were totally unintentional. Whee!
The Easter Bunny is cruel. If ever we should meet up, let it be known that I do not particularly care for nuts. Icecream and candy with 'em just seem like a waste of perfectly good sugar. This is nothing new. I cannot remember a time when I didn't feel this way. But everyone else in the house loves Snickers. So I bought out the last of the Snickers stuff a week or so ago and figured that I'd just give myself an extra Reester bunny or something. Mums had to assemble the baskets and when Widge demanded I go through my basket, I had... snickers stuff. And Mr. Goodbars. And I could've cried because Halloween is for trades. Not Easter. :P
Yeah, see, digital sucks ass. A squirrel sneezes and the CW affiliate here dies. Green screen of death. So, even on the nights I did remember to set things up and the recording did, in fact, happen, you're still not guaranteed an episode. Anyway. I would have enjoyed the end run so much more if TV Guide hadn't spoiled the goddamned ending for me a week or two after the finale aired. [Seriously, guys, each time you post a real spoiler on the cover, I want to hunt you down and kick you in the important bits.]
Luckily, with the Ghostfacers episode out of the way, we'd passed most of the filler, although, truthfully, I expected a little more from Long Distance Call.
Ahem. A moment. Turn away if you must: STOP INVITING YOUR HUSBAND ALONG. If you've been bitching the last two weeks about how you need a break from him, then DON'T BRING HIM. JESUS. I swear, sometimes I think she killed all of her braincells for fun. It hurts, the stupidity does. She didn't used to be this dumb. I was going to say dense, but yeah, that'd be a bit of a lie. It's just that before you could sort of outfox her. So either I'm a little rusty, or her drug use and love of zee booze killed off braincells that were essential after all.
So. Back to Dean. Lillith. Ah, creepy children. Creepy child on the swing-set. I can't sleep until I find something to erase that two second blip from my memory. How wrong is that?
...Christonastick. I'm going to bed in a second because if I continue to speak to her, or to think about this, I'm going to say this to her face and there are things you just should not say. If you and your husband are both unemployed and I'm fairly certain he cannot get unemployment because of the whole failing the drug test thing, and he's got a job, temp or otherwise, at the asscrack of dawn, who the hell decides to go to the one friend who seems to believe livers are for suckers? It's 1am. Perfectly legit time for the drinking. I get that. But um, yeah. You're behind on your rent to the tune of being thrown out. So you can drink your troubles away or you can fix the mess.
No. Neither of you can come over and watch Supernatural now. That's right. He drank his gig away in the morning and he drank your ability to watch what the hell happens to the Winchester boys.
Yeah. Bedtime. Hell puns were totally unintentional. Whee!
The Easter Bunny is cruel. If ever we should meet up, let it be known that I do not particularly care for nuts. Icecream and candy with 'em just seem like a waste of perfectly good sugar. This is nothing new. I cannot remember a time when I didn't feel this way. But everyone else in the house loves Snickers. So I bought out the last of the Snickers stuff a week or so ago and figured that I'd just give myself an extra Reester bunny or something. Mums had to assemble the baskets and when Widge demanded I go through my basket, I had... snickers stuff. And Mr. Goodbars. And I could've cried because Halloween is for trades. Not Easter. :P
