(no subject)
Oct. 15th, 2003 01:57 am"Women in the Muggle world complain about homoerotica and male obsession in football," she commented. "They should really try living in a world where the sport of choice has four balls and the players are mounted on flying phallic symbols." - Underwater Light, by Maya.
Bastards! Some little two-bit mosquitoes have been biting me. It's not even summer yet and I hate it already.
Managed to not get my car today, by cleverly forgetting both the contract thingie and the cheque to pay for it. It was an effort of Einsteinian proportions, as I didn't realise until I'd caught a bus and two separate trains. Most irritating. Now I have to go through the whole rigmarole again tomorrow. I am so over this whole cripple business.
On the plus side, the phrase "King of Bastardshire" is the best thing I've heard all day, and I look forward to using it in conversation in future.
Also, I have to remember to phone Steph. Because she wasn't online tonight, and y'know. I miss her.
Edit: And now I have enormous red lumps on my feet. I HATE mosquitoes. I'm not normally in favour of genocide, but in this case I'm prepared to make an exception. Hate, hate, hate.
Bastards! Some little two-bit mosquitoes have been biting me. It's not even summer yet and I hate it already.
Managed to not get my car today, by cleverly forgetting both the contract thingie and the cheque to pay for it. It was an effort of Einsteinian proportions, as I didn't realise until I'd caught a bus and two separate trains. Most irritating. Now I have to go through the whole rigmarole again tomorrow. I am so over this whole cripple business.
On the plus side, the phrase "King of Bastardshire" is the best thing I've heard all day, and I look forward to using it in conversation in future.
Also, I have to remember to phone Steph. Because she wasn't online tonight, and y'know. I miss her.
Edit: And now I have enormous red lumps on my feet. I HATE mosquitoes. I'm not normally in favour of genocide, but in this case I'm prepared to make an exception. Hate, hate, hate.