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Joy and love and Lorne to all.
Good evening, wonderful people.
Gosh, you might be thinking, Impy seems awfully chipper. What have they done with the real one? What have they done!
Nada. I'm just not wallowing in... whatever I usually wallow in. That and I'm mighty [yes, I said mighty, but I said it mockingly] thankful to have not been forced to eat fried chicken. I may technically live in the south, but that does not mean I will eat that.
Yay! Jake-stalking can now continue. Or would, if I stalked. But I don't. ;)
Woo. 45 minutes til I need to go set my VCR up to tape shtuff and then settle in for an hour's worth o' Angel. Wheeeee!
In other news, because this is the south, I'm miffed that the air conditioner broke. Again. But only for the upstairs where my room just so happens to be. So now I'm tortured due to the heat [yeah, in November. How fair is that?] and the fact that the crack den that is Ben's room stinks to high -unholy heaven. And there's no way to get around passing it on my way to my room. Siiiigh.
So I run. This is almost as amusing as when I had so much crap in front of my door that I pretty much had to vault into the room. Yes. I was a slob then and I freely admit it. I had one corner of my room so filled with junk that I named it "Mount Junkmore." It was taller than I was. But then Junkmore was decimated in a fit of cleaning frenzy in the middle of the night. Woe, Junkmore. Woe.
And in related news [not really] I still want my Don't Mess With Pussyfoot shirt. One day, Pussyfoot. One day.
Gosh, you might be thinking, Impy seems awfully chipper. What have they done with the real one? What have they done!
Nada. I'm just not wallowing in... whatever I usually wallow in. That and I'm mighty [yes, I said mighty, but I said it mockingly] thankful to have not been forced to eat fried chicken. I may technically live in the south, but that does not mean I will eat that.
Yay! Jake-stalking can now continue. Or would, if I stalked. But I don't. ;)
Woo. 45 minutes til I need to go set my VCR up to tape shtuff and then settle in for an hour's worth o' Angel. Wheeeee!
In other news, because this is the south, I'm miffed that the air conditioner broke. Again. But only for the upstairs where my room just so happens to be. So now I'm tortured due to the heat [yeah, in November. How fair is that?] and the fact that the crack den that is Ben's room stinks to high -unholy heaven. And there's no way to get around passing it on my way to my room. Siiiigh.
So I run. This is almost as amusing as when I had so much crap in front of my door that I pretty much had to vault into the room. Yes. I was a slob then and I freely admit it. I had one corner of my room so filled with junk that I named it "Mount Junkmore." It was taller than I was. But then Junkmore was decimated in a fit of cleaning frenzy in the middle of the night. Woe, Junkmore. Woe.
And in related news [not really] I still want my Don't Mess With Pussyfoot shirt. One day, Pussyfoot. One day.