1. It is the middle of the night, and you wake from a dead sleep because you have to pee. You shuffle to the bathroom and don't even bother turning on the light because you know the way. While there you realise that you have to use feminine protection. You also notice that you run out of loo roll. You unwrap the loo roll and pull the old roll from the spool, and then sit there, half awake, holding the spool in one hand and the new roll in the other.
The spool is, I repeat, the spool is NOT the feminine protection that you have yet to retrieve. No, I stopped myself before it got that far, but I did wonder why it was so big around whilst I held it.
There's a moral (sp—is that spelled right? Moral? Morel? No that's a mushroom. Moral reminds me of sorrel, which always make me think of High Chapparal. Chapparal? Chaparale? Fuck. I'll quit before I start questioning the spelling of "the" and "chair") here, but I don't know who it is.
2. Watching season one of the Tudors again. Why does everyone give each other brooches? From now on, everyone's getting brooches from me.
Side note: OH HAI THAR, EXTREME HOTTNESS THAT IS JOHN RHYS-MYERS' ABS. HOLY FUCK.
3. In cleaning my house, I am stunned by the sheer amount of junk
I have, in the form of bits and baubles and things that I cannot simply throw in a box and label. I have baskets and small boxes of little things that I simply don't know what to do with—things I no longer want and haven't needed in the past three years, not enough to unpack them from the basement boxes in which a great deal of them reside. I find myself pitching large quantities of crap. I want to be as light as possible.
Likewise, wow, half-price books, you are awesome.
Additionally, in going through my shelves and boxes of books in the basement, I am slowly filling a box of books marked, simply, "unread". So this year, I shall endeavor to empty that box. It's filled with contemporary novels, non fiction, and a bunch of classic lit I never got to. Like some Dickens and Orczy and even one or two poets whose volumes I purchased and never finished. I would promise not to buy any more books until I finish these, but that is foolhardy and something to which I can never hold myself. So I shan't lie that way. But it's a goal—read more. Read well. Read smartly.
That said, I read the latest Hamilton Merry Gentry book, Divine Misdemeanours
. ( Hey, it's in my ereader. OMG SPOILERS )
4. OH HAI. RPF/RPS CARNIVALE THIS WEEKEND. RIGHT THE FUCK IN THIS LJ. cruentum
IS SO EXCITED HE'S ABOUT TO VIBRATE THROUGH THE INTERNETS. THEN HE WILL BE THE GHOST IN THE SHELL, AND HE'LL HAUNT YOUR ISP AND WHEN YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING YOUR THESIS, HE'LL REPLACE ALL THE IMAGES AND PIE CHARTS IN THE DOCUMENT WITH PICTURES OF JB'S ASS. YOU MIGHT BE AMUSED. YOUR THESIS ADVISOR AT THE ENTOMOLOGY DEPARTMENT PROBABLY WON'T BE. I think I already addressed this above, but whatevs.
Don't let that happen to you. Write for the Torchwood/Doctor Who RPF Carnivale.
5. So we have a little bit of snow in Pittsburgh this past month. So some mutherfuckers decide it's a great time to do some URBAN SKIING.
My favorite is probably the Joe Montana bridge at about 4:00 to the end, and if you watch the credits you not only see some awesome FAIL, but you hear them make fun of Yinzertalk, which is always fun. (h/t emquilxy
6. I'm in season two of the Sopranos again. How did I miss this gem? TONY: (frustrated and with finality) Cunnilingus and psychiatry have brought us to this.
Yes. Tony. Yes.
7. My TW season 4 file is corrupted or something, and it was my back up copy. I checked the original and it has no changes since last month. It's like Jesus doesn't want me to write TW anymore. Okay, Jesus.