For Nat...mostly.

This started out as a note, but then it was getting a bit long...

Sorry I wasn't on ICQ - I was on last night, I swear. However, I've worked my timescale back to Mauritius time, and sat up watching the rest of the Daria marathon (ie the last four hours or so...after I watched the first half hour of Moulin Rouge...and that was after I watched the special on Queen). I just got on thinking maybe I could catch you on ICQ...then looked at the computer clock and it read 2.16. Eeep! (Oh no! I'm channelling Brittany!)

I didn't mean to sleep in this morning, but I was having these really cool dreams. I don't remember what they were about, but I remember they actually had plot. So here I am, thinking I could either get up and probably read a book, or I could go back to sleep and watch my internal movie. Guess which one I picked...

(no subject)

"Oz not gone forever, but Seth leave show! Some of you may say that's not
reason enough for Willow's change, but as a matter of fact when Seth left I
turned gay too, and so did most of the camera crew" --Joss Whedon

(no subject)

<td></td><td width="400">

You're a dangerous person -- very ambitious, self-aware and self-reliant. You know what your strengths are and how best to use them to your advantage, and you know what your weaknesses are and how to downplay them. You can either be a great leader or a great tyrant, but you'll definitely be great. Chances are you're also very sarcastic.
Get Sorted!</td>

For my mother:
I do not love thee, Doctor Fell;
The reason why I cannot tell,
But this I know, and know full well,
I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.

I need to move out of home.

(no subject)

Vicar: Oh, Mr. Rudd. I understand that you are a fillum producer.
Jason Rudd: Oh, no, sir. A director.
Vicar: Is there any difference?
Jason Rudd: Yes, sir. The, uh, producer supplies all the money; the director spends it. Then the
producer yells that the director is spending too much money; the director doesn't pay any attention, and goes right on spending. The director gets all the credit; the producer gets an ulcer. You see, it's all very simple; excuse me.

--From The Mirror Crack'd, 1980.