A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || January 17, 2007 || 11:23 pm

perspective (or, you can’t have my head, i still have need of it)

spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight spoiling for a fight

….and so on and so forth; the above is what happened when I opened the window and started typing into it this morning. However, several hours have managed to cram themselves in between me and then. Those hours were, all-in-all, not too shitty.

Things to be happy about at the very present:

My hoody with the thumbholes trimmed in red thread. I am wearing it. Mittens are tedious where coldhandsgirls who like to type are concerned. Hoodies with thumbholes (trimmed in RED!)? Perfect.

It’s damn cold. Winter! Are you here? I mean, are you really and truly here, or are you teasing with a four- or five-day stay before you trot off again? It was cute the first three or four times you did it, but you are wearing that whole dance out. Winter! You make me happy! You help me forget global warming, and I get to wear mittens. And gloves. And hats. There is practically boundless hat-wearing potential! A girl gets to be somebody different every damn day with a large enough assortment of hats.

The Real Housewives of Orange County? Sweet Lord, I feel like I’ve been hit with a hammer every time I catch even the teensiest sliver of that poopstick of a show. I also get to feel smugly superior. There is no quantifying how gleeful that makes me.

My bangs are so short that they stick straight out. I look like a bag lady and I LOVE it.

There is that guitar bit round about the middle of Metallica’s ‘Jump Into The Fire’. I just heard it. I hate the lyrics, but that guitar is sweeee.

There is A Scene. The Scene has some lines in the midst of it:

“So you’re saying you’re Joan of Arc, then?”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t carry off chain mail; my complexion won’t allow it.”

That about sums things up over the last ten minutes. There were lots of little things all day.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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