This is going to be very disjointed. Please bear with me. I'm just typing whatever comes into my head.
Here's a thought: Harry's birthday is in July. Assuming Lily had a nine month pregnancy, and having no evidence to the contrary we'll assume that, that puts his conception in October. It's October, and my mind is dirty. If I could I'd write that fic. And it would be absolutely amazingly romantic and hot.
I almost died of the squee today because I went to the Drama Club meeting and the President couldn't get onto the stage, and one guy threw "get thee to a nunnery" into the staged reading, and there was a techie with a screw gun building the set in the background and they had to talk over the noise and they call the faculty by their first names, and it was just perfect.
In Great Russians all 11 of us (two were missing) sat as close as possible to each other at the end of the oval table farthest from the Crazy Russian Woman. It was fucking great. I love messing with teachers.
I sacrificed a pink high-lighter to Alex's soon-to-be-glowing margarita man. Rest In Peace, pink high-lighter.
My Amazon story sucks. I hate my inability to write what I want.
Abby and I watched
Chicken Run. She had never seen it before. It was quite the experience.
Cinzia's home for the weekend and I'm scared to sleep in here alone. I am pathetic.
I have exactly no friends who are both male and straight. Not that I mind, but how did that happen?
This entry sounds really bitter now as well as disjointed. Fuck.
I'm glad Vanessa had a good day.
Erin is always on ridiculously late on school nights, but not on the weekends when I
need her want to terrorize her. WTF? (I LOVE ERIN and I am grateful for everything she does.)
Lalalalalalalalala.
I still haven't read Jess's story. Or Hannah's. *Is guilty* I will guys, I promise.
I'm avoinding going to sleep right now. I don't really know why.
They guy on Nip/Tuck was cutting himself with this huge fucking steak knife. THAT IS NOT COOL. I told him it wasn't cool, but he didn't listen.
I said the Fuck word a lot in this entry.
And why do I capitolize it?
I don't know why I'm cutting this. In case you don't want to read it I guess. But I wish you would.
( Cut for Angst and other Emotions I hate )I promise that I don't spend all day obsessing over that. I don't even usually think about him except at night, and that's just a habit that won't die. It's 2:15am and I get weird when I stay up.
All the same it's a really good poem and I wish he could see it.