(no subject)

( Millethereal musings )

ETA: schiarire: didn't shati play that one michael who was always blowing up walls?
annysthetized: Heeee
annysthetized: he asked Aziraphael if he was a transvestite.
schiarire: he was kind of short for a bully
annysthetized: Yeah. I want a big kinda... I dunno. Like someone out of Asterix and Obelix
annysthetized: XD
schiarire: all boom and no brain
annysthetized: Exactly. And preferably in a small skirt.
schiarire: with a big temper
annysthetized: And a Very Large Sword.
schiarire: so that's where raguel's cojones went
annysthetized: They're in Michael's sporran
schiarire: *chokes*
schiarire: you won
annysthetized: *preens*
schiarire: you so won.

(no subject)

I have an encroaching cold. It's really quite gross, and tends to feel worst in the morning and at night, as is usually the case, so right now I'm snotty, sneezing, and my brain feels as though it's expanded slightly and is just waiting for the opportunity to leak from my ears. Urgh.

My days are uneventful, right now. I'm going for walks every day, making at least a nod towards exercise, and reading the various and sundry library books I have. Or... attempting to read them, at least. The Bosch has gone walkabout, as has the book of short stories called The Angel on the Roof, and I don't think I have the mental fortitude to cope with someone writing intolerably jargon-laced wank about Gilbert & George. The book on stained glass is pretty interesting but making me pine for anywhere that's else, and the rest of them are clearly unmemorable.

I'm tired and I'm grumpy, I'm reading old fanfics over again because I'm not sure where to find anything new, and I'm despairing at the stultifying dullness of my journal, currently. I should probably cope with that by cutting down on the amount of time I spend posting, but what else is there to do?

It'll be better once my cheque arrives. Keep telling myself.

I suspect I'm in such a foul temper because mum would rather channel surf than watch The Motorcycle Diaries.

*sulks*