(no subject)

I mailed my cards and Radish's package today. I would have mailed Buhfly's, but I managed to leave her address at home. Go me.

Fuck. I've seem to have managed to leave my piece of paper at the Post Office that has which cards I was yet to do. Holy crap on a stick.

Steph, I *think* I've written you a card. I'm almost certain of it. If you don't receive it in a couple of weeks or so, let me know and I'll give you a replacement.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIAM! *does the birthday dance for your entertainment*

(no subject)

Did you know that the US changed their laws about posting food to said country? As of December frickin' 12. I am Unimpressed. I can't even send a simple fucking lollypop without applying for FDA "approval". Totally fucking lame. The only food exempt is "food that is homemade and sent as a personal gift--for example, a cake." A cake?? A cake?? Have these people lost their senses? Who can send a cake from Australia to the US and have it arrive in any sort of palatable form? Bah.

So Radish and Buhfly, I was going to send you a cool lollypop, but your stupid government is afraid I'll hide anthrax or terrorists in it, so I can't.

(no subject)

From my friends' list:
...Is Bond 257 less noxiously fumey than E 6000? I just don't know if I can use the E 6000 that I bought on my marble magnets.... (bold mine)
I'm thinking, wtf? Bond is 007. Jeez, some people. *facepalm* Geek much? And before you ask, I've read more Bond books by Ian Fleming than I've seen movies, though I've seen plenty.

I saw Peter Pan. You guys may have had the premiere, but it's not released in the US until the 25th. It's really really nice to see something before my friends' list for once. We don't get ROTK until next week.

IT FUCKING ROCKED. I want to download the trailer and sit in my room and watch it over and over again. Then, when the DVD comes out, I'll sit in my family room and watch it over and over again. I'll make little Peter Pan plushies, and stroke their heads, while around me newspapers pile up and the cats accrete. We don't have any cats, but they'll sense my freaky-alone-person life and gather from miles around.

Okay, maybe not. But it still rocked, and dammit, I want a whole lot of stills from the movie to make icons with. I want to make ICONS.

What happened after the movie sucked Hitler's dead, shrivelled up and crispy-toasted dick. My dad smirked at me when I got home, and THE SMILE WAS CATCHING, DAMMIT. I really wanted to sulk. I love my dad.

I have now seen two totally different Angel dancing icons. I am very afraid.