I'm making breakfast for dinner, out of a lack of energy to cook much of anything else. Scrambled tofu and toast. Crumbling up the tofu is fun.
Spike's Bitches 37: You take the killing for granted.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Well, you'll be hanging out with KT, I'll be up at Universal listening to the screaming and the crying.
You'll hear it all the way over there?
o no! Not the both of you? Dang. Was hoping you finally got a day of rest too.
Nope, I'm up at Universal tonight. I need to make sure that things run smoothly the first few nights of the event and then I can start to cut back a bit.
Good luck with the potential future wife, P-C.
Hmm. I think I've figured out the perfect spice proportions for scrambled tofu. Yum. (Though maybe a tiny bit more turmeric and a tiny bit less cumin? And possibly rosemary instead of thyme?)
I hope P-C realizes that if he does marry this woman we'll always refer to her as "#5."
Good luck!
I have a burning question for y'all. In the Gordon Lightfoot song "Sundown", is Sundown the woman the rest of the song is about? Or is it someone else the singer is directing his jealousy against, over the woman? Or am I totally missing the point of the song and it is a metaphor for something else entirely?
I hope P-C realizes that if he does marry this woman we'll always refer to her as "#5."
Heee. Well, good, now we have a nickname for her in case it goes well and we choose to meet up again.
;tuor5y7u8idsorjgdkf bujiskfhuirh kndzfj jkufdhjkhkjvh jcdxzkf vhjkxzdhigufhng;idufghal7vb5 uy985hsiduor765 hbjg;klfhdfuiklt ojtdklj dsklue;lik ldfjgkldstu4oj uigklfjbgklfj huiolf /d;lf gk;lfd
Translation: stop fucking telling me what's fucking best for me.
My mom's solution to my inability to have her in my apartment for a whole week is to take us both to my grandmother's for the week, where I will be bored out of my mind with no Internet. I completely understand that on a practical level, this looks like a lovely solution where I don't have to do anything and get all my meals made for me, but I didn't ask for this. I was fully prepared to stay BY MYSELF in my apartment, fend for myself, WHATEVER, and mainline Six Feet Under. This is MY surgery and MY recovery and WHY THE FUCK DOES NO ONE UNDERSTAND THAT?
I am twenty-six years old and I feel like I'm being kidnapped by my family.