On New Icons.

The credit goes to Roche. I swear to God I didn't make up the banner. I just made it. This is my answer to the Gay Crusade.



Bwahahahahahahaha...

On The Choices of Master Samwise.

So. Let us review.

Liz's week -

Monday - 17 degrees C, or somewhere in the 60's. Sunny. Slightly breezy. Liz is happy.

Tuesday & Wednesday - Colder, a bit more cloudy, Liz is all right, since, technically, it still is not winter weather.

Thursday - Liz wakes up and looks at the ground. The ground is white. With FUCKING SNOW.

ARGH. You know, I thought that just for one winter, just ONE, I could escape the cruel elements. That I could just laugh evilly when Sam would tell me that it is bitter, bitter cold where he is, and that he has had to scrape snow off his car again, or that his lips hurt because they are so chapped. But no. The stupid weather got here, too. Not that it's real snow, mind you - just enough flakes to make the ground whiter, and my mood pissier. Everyone here is so excited - oh, it's snowing, look! It's a snow storm!

For one, it isn't a snowstorm. It's a few flakes. You haven't seen a snowstorm until you can't find your own car underneath five feet of snow for two weeks in a row. You haven't seen a snowstorm until you've had to shovel your entire fucking driveway because you have to get out somehow, and there are three feet of snow settled nicely on top of the pavement. You haven't seen a snowstorm till you've had to walk through it to school. (Do I sound like a grandma yet?) Well, I am fucking sick of snow. Honestly and truly - I never want to see the stuff again. I want to be warm. I want to be comfortable. I don't want to feel the elements on my cheeks when I wade through the wind to get to class, and I don't want to have to get into a car or bus and have my ass scald me because my jeans are frozen through. It ain't fun. I've seen enough snow to last me a lifetime.

And thus ends the bitchiness.

Not much happening to speak of. Had a chance to sleep in, and my body betrayed me, waking up at 9:10 and not letting me get back to sleep. Thus, I have only had about 6 hours of sleep, all in all, and it ain't fun. However, I do not regret having gone to bed so late, since talking to people is a good thing to do, too.

By the way, let it be known that she of the name stereo_m is currently in possession of my brain, and needs to get out of my head. Usually conversations with her turn into basic matches of who can type faster to say the same thing. It's uncanny, a little bit frightening, and infinitely fun. Too bad she's off trotting around with horses this weekend...heh.

Am done with TTT, and have moved onto RoTK.

( Here be spoilers and much gushing on behalf of slashy Hobbits everywhere. )

All in all, a rather boring existence I am leading at the moment, but I think it's more or less by choice. Soon, I shall go and read more of my book, whichever one has my fancy at the moment. I like reaidng two books at a time - gives me a nice variety.

So, I really am a dork. But at least I'm a well-read dork.

Speaking of which, still can't get "At Swim, Two Boys" out of my head. What is wrong with me? When I couldn't fall asleep last night, I started composing a letter to Jamie O'Neill. WTF?! Tried drawing an illustration today, but man, it's hard. There's this one 'scene' in particular that I want to draw, because it really sums up the dynamic of the book for me, but it's damn near impossible without actual models posing. Maybe I'll try again later...

And I can't do first lines of favorite novels, since I don't have most of them with me, but I can make a list of ( those novels for anyone actually interested. )

And this is it for now. Am off to read me some Harry/AAAAAAAAH (heh, arborealis) smut. Sue me and I shall prove he's legal. So, there. Heh.