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clo_againAHAHAHAHAHATHEYSETITONFIRE. Oh Top Gear, I love you so much. And the manly smoothie. And James being Finnish and just, everything Hamster did throughout the entire episode and... !!!
Oh Top Gear. Never ever change.
~
In more depressing News of My Life, I had ambitions to accomplish stuff this weekend, none of which I've actually accomplished, even remotely. Basically I've been ambitious but rubbish. Utterly so. To really finish it off, instead of cleaning out Barnabas or changing my sheets or anything useful at all, actually, I'm going to go and try to forget how much my parents are irritating me this month (thank you so much for reminding me "Don't go to bed too late, you have to get up in the morning", like you do every damn night, because you know I'd forgotten that I have to go back to the soul-sucking hell in the morning because I am five years old. Jesus, we'd get on better if they just never said anything to me) by rewatching Lilo and Stitch. Mainly because Stephen Fry was just in Hawaii on the tellybox, so I'm blaming my uselessness solely on him. Damn you Fry.
I apologise for my crapness at being LJ-present lately. This is what soul-sucking hell forty hours a week will do to you. Hopefully I will get my life in order sometime in the next few weeks, but I am not optimistic. I don't even know what the answer to it all is anymore.
Quit work, probably. Roll on January.
~
I still hate Harry the Second's keyboard. Bah.
~
Five years on, I still love this song, which I finally found to download off play.com today. I wrote Aeneas/Pallas slash to this in college. Wow, that was a long time ago.
Speaking of music, I also ordered Hungry Lucy's To Kill A King off Play Trade, off someone with mostly-positive but also some-worrying feedback, but it was cheaper than I'd ever seen it (though still more expensive than I should be spending; there goes that Animal backpack I had my eye on) and I've wanted it forever. I guess I'll just have to wait and see if it gets here and whether it's a copy when it does. I'll be pissed if I paid £13 for a copy, I really will.
Well. Maybe a little less pissed if it works...
eta: Oh and also, I wanted to congratulate monkey boy on winning the Masters Cup. As much as I'm still hurting for Roger and just want this tennis year over with, I like Djokovic and I'm happy he won. (Obviously I would've preferred it to be Murray but that's my British side talking. My love of the bendy prefers Djokovic).
So there you go. A bizarre tennis year bookended neatly by Djokovic, who I certainly wasn't this fond of back in January. Here's to Roger having better luck in 2009, Murray continuing to be awesome without showing so much as a flicker of an expression, Andy finding a girlfriend who I can actually say something complimentary about, Djokovic continuing to go deliciously banana-shaped when serving, Mardy happily sitting in the background being the only sensible one of the lot of them, and other things happening to other people who I don't like as much but won't go into specifics.
Wait, I believe in karma in tennis and that you should never wish bad things on the people you don't like because it'll come back to bite you or rather your favourite players); so forget that last bit. Just good things all round for everyone I like. Especially Roger, who absolutely does not want or deserve mono from Santa Claus this year. Quite frankly, if I could manufacture Red Dwarf's Luck Virus I'd send him a year's supply.
I mean hey, it's not that ridiculous an idea. After all Marat's clearly got a sizable stash of Sexual Magnetism.
And so concludes this whole weird year of tennis. Thank the deity of your choice for godamn that.
Oh Top Gear. Never ever change.
~
In more depressing News of My Life, I had ambitions to accomplish stuff this weekend, none of which I've actually accomplished, even remotely. Basically I've been ambitious but rubbish. Utterly so. To really finish it off, instead of cleaning out Barnabas or changing my sheets or anything useful at all, actually, I'm going to go and try to forget how much my parents are irritating me this month (thank you so much for reminding me "Don't go to bed too late, you have to get up in the morning", like you do every damn night, because you know I'd forgotten that I have to go back to the soul-sucking hell in the morning because I am five years old. Jesus, we'd get on better if they just never said anything to me) by rewatching Lilo and Stitch. Mainly because Stephen Fry was just in Hawaii on the tellybox, so I'm blaming my uselessness solely on him. Damn you Fry.
I apologise for my crapness at being LJ-present lately. This is what soul-sucking hell forty hours a week will do to you. Hopefully I will get my life in order sometime in the next few weeks, but I am not optimistic. I don't even know what the answer to it all is anymore.
Quit work, probably. Roll on January.
~
I still hate Harry the Second's keyboard. Bah.
~
Five years on, I still love this song, which I finally found to download off play.com today. I wrote Aeneas/Pallas slash to this in college. Wow, that was a long time ago.
Speaking of music, I also ordered Hungry Lucy's To Kill A King off Play Trade, off someone with mostly-positive but also some-worrying feedback, but it was cheaper than I'd ever seen it (though still more expensive than I should be spending; there goes that Animal backpack I had my eye on) and I've wanted it forever. I guess I'll just have to wait and see if it gets here and whether it's a copy when it does. I'll be pissed if I paid £13 for a copy, I really will.
Well. Maybe a little less pissed if it works...
eta: Oh and also, I wanted to congratulate monkey boy on winning the Masters Cup. As much as I'm still hurting for Roger and just want this tennis year over with, I like Djokovic and I'm happy he won. (Obviously I would've preferred it to be Murray but that's my British side talking. My love of the bendy prefers Djokovic).
So there you go. A bizarre tennis year bookended neatly by Djokovic, who I certainly wasn't this fond of back in January. Here's to Roger having better luck in 2009, Murray continuing to be awesome without showing so much as a flicker of an expression, Andy finding a girlfriend who I can actually say something complimentary about, Djokovic continuing to go deliciously banana-shaped when serving, Mardy happily sitting in the background being the only sensible one of the lot of them, and other things happening to other people who I don't like as much but won't go into specifics.
Wait, I believe in karma in tennis and that you should never wish bad things on the people you don't like because it'll come back to bite you or rather your favourite players); so forget that last bit. Just good things all round for everyone I like. Especially Roger, who absolutely does not want or deserve mono from Santa Claus this year. Quite frankly, if I could manufacture Red Dwarf's Luck Virus I'd send him a year's supply.
I mean hey, it's not that ridiculous an idea. After all Marat's clearly got a sizable stash of Sexual Magnetism.
And so concludes this whole weird year of tennis. Thank the deity of your choice for godamn that.
