(no subject)

I sense the hangover fairy will visit tomorrow, which is annoying since I am not nearly drunk enough to warrant such preferential treatment, dammit. I've watched Holy Grail already and am now nearly through Lost Ark, and I ought to watch the new DVDs I bought but I can't be arsed. Watching young Indy, it's kind of weird how much he looks like Joe Flanigan; I'd be asserting that this ought to be what Joe does, but if it means ending SG:A and breaking up the Hewlett-Flanigan partnership then I'd far rather Joe remain a - what, C?, D?, ZPM list celeb.

I'm faintly worried at how well all my rewrites of films and such are going; someday I'll write a non-stolen SG:A fic, honest. Someday I'll write that one about unfortunate digestive complaints. XD

Catch yez when am not sleepydead.

(no subject)

I want Noel Fielding's goth detective babies.

Way more fun than the mood box

When I came back into the room, William was practically fellating the chess piece. It is one of the surest signs that he's losing, but since I had recognised his offence at least seven moves ago and engineered my play accordingly, it came as no great surprise.

"Bored, Will?" I asked, setting his tea down in front of him. He started, and the bishop clacked noisily against his teeth.

"Quite thoroughly and comprehensively," he told me, "or, as the peasants will have it, shitless, my dear boy. Absolutely shitless."