changeling | Black chocolate...blackblack black chocolate...

Headache of fucking doom. This headache is going to crawl out of my head tonight while I sleep, and devour the world. You think I'm joking. I can only surmise that I've been grinding my teeth (a habit I picked up thanks to my orthodontic work, dammit). Tried painkillers, but it did not work. Steph did not let me have more, because it was only two hours later and I think you're supposed to wait for four, but those are just guidelines, right? The first two hadn't helped anyway, so I don't know why I thought the next two would.

Got called into work today. Big fuck-off surprise, considering my last post. It was insanely busy. I smiled, and kept my cool, despite the fact that my ankle was playing up like a ~~motherfucker~~ goatfucker and I have to wear stupid shoes, as I am not allowed to wear my Docs. I think that at the earliest convenience (Monday?) I am ~~toddling~~ storming off to Myer and buying me some goddamn wearable work shoes.

Put a set of fairy lights through today - or it may have been yesterday - that had little silver butterflies made of mesh over them. They were extraordinarily awesome, and I briefly contemplated buying some for

buhfly, who would appreciate such things, but came to senses when realised
1) Probably couldn't have afforded them, or at least justified the purchase
2) Probably couldn't afford the postage
3) They have ~~retarded~~ different electrical plug things, so she would have had to get an adaptor anyway
4) She probably wouldn't have liked them as much as I think she would
5) They probably have better stuff there anyway.

Had a point here. Forgot it.

Did not eat today until almost 4pm, due to work waking me up, and my forgetting to grab something on the way in dash.

Liam called me, which was nice, except for the fact that he called during Pie in the Sky, a brilliant British crime show that I used to watch as a kid. I've always liked Richard Griffiths, not because he's Vernon Dursley, or because he was Magistrate Philipse, but because he was Henry Crabbe. Liam really does have an unerring sense of timing. He seems to invariably call while I am watching a British crime show (admittedly, this is a large part of my viewing preference), and usually about two thirds of the way through, just far enough in that I'm engrossed. Then I lose track of what's going on in the plot and I get out of sorts because although he'll ring off before the finale, I've missed most of it so it doesn't mean much. And then I feel bad because I've been short with him on the phone because I was trying to concentrate on two things at once and that never works. Ah well. I should probably call him back. Though not tonight, obviously.

It was something to do with the wedding, anyway. I think it was getting fitted for the waistcoats, but I may have agreed to do the hula with a hat made of fruit on my head to get him off the phone, I'm not sure. The latter worries me, because one should never mix dance styles like that.

Blah blah, went out, bought dinner, watched a bit of Parkinson with some bloke called David who never knew his mum or dad but knows quite a bit about antiques, and also Sanjeev (I think) from the Kumars at No. Something or Other Might be 42. Also Badly Drawn Boy played a couple of songs, and is from Bolton.

Switched over to channel 1, the Nostalgia channel (whatever the fuck it's called), and caught the latter half of a wossname on Bridget Jones's Diary II, specifically the fight scene, which is important to

darketherdream and me, due to planned fic. Don't say a word. Also watched about ten minutes of some movie that I assumed must be Dark City - got all interested because Sean Bean was in it, also sharp cheeked bloke, black hair, erm, Batman, also gay journalist in Velvet thingie, Christian Bale - as have not seen the aforementioned Dark City, but it turned out to be something called Equilibrium. Got bored with that largely because hate to come into movie halfway through. Did have Jackie lady from Hilary and Jackie, though...unless it's Hillary and Jackie. Too tired to care. V. tired very much like being drunk, only without the alcohol, or falling over lots, and also am having headache now instead of tomorrow.

So. Long story short (too late): decided to watch Sister's bootleg version of Bridget Jones, the original, in order to refresh source material for story. Decided would do that, do a preliminary of the fic, then write Dionysus fic for

olympus_high. Instead, get to point at embarrassing press launch where Darcy giving whatsisface, Wickham, Daniel, significant look. Discover actually like original far more than sequel. Has Bridget being less of a total loser.

Oh, yes! Steph called, turned plans to bollocks; we talked for three hours, nine minutes and eight seconds. Then crashed on couch, propped eyes open with toothpicks and finished watching movie. Until last few minutes as had no Daniel & Darcy snarkage and only stupid kissing in snow and hence of little interest.

Now I've done the electronic equivalent of sitting down next to you, wine glass in one hand, leaning over you with my appalling alcohol breath and slurred "And another thing", will leave it there. Have nothing else to say and suspect have typed, spelt, and grammared poorly.

Also, I have some new icons. I bet no-one noticed.

Goodnight.