Bitches! Save me from my evil grading and comment-writing and save-the-date addressing! I can't take it any more, and my hand feels like it's going to fall off!
Yeah, I could do that, but I'm paralyzed with not caring very much.
Spike ,'Showtime'
Spike's Bitches 44: It's about the rules having changed.
[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.
Pix - Oct 25, 2009 10:04:24 pm PDT #27926 of 30000
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
sj - Oct 25, 2009 10:11:35 pm PDT #27927 of 30000
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Poor Kristin, I hope you're almost done.
Pix - Oct 25, 2009 10:22:57 pm PDT #27928 of 30000
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
I am so nowhere near done, sadly. I've finished grading and have notes for all of my students, which are basically in very rough comment form, but I still have to go through every one to polish it up and add whatever I've missed. Tomorrow is going to suck.
On the up-side, I'm almost completely done with the addressing...for now. I'm trying not to think about the real invites, which we'll be sending out around the beginning of December.
ETA: Which means, of course, that I decided now was the perfect time to go shoe shopping on Zappos for my wedding sandals. I narrowed it down to two to try. I'll return the pair that fit worse. Here are the two I ordered: [link] and [link]
Seska (the Watcher-in-Training) - Oct 26, 2009 12:39:49 am PDT #27929 of 30000
"We're all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"
Kristin, I share your pain over save-the-date cards. We're doing ours over e-mail (my hands won't let me write much) and it's still stressful. I hope you get through them soon!
Once again, I am being a Good Person and going to the airport to collect a Girl. Yay me, etc. Must take research...
Calli - Oct 26, 2009 1:10:38 am PDT #27930 of 30000
I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul—Calvin and Hobbs
Kirstin, I like the second pair of sandals a lot. But how long will you be standing in them? If it were me the heel would cause some concern. Of course, I'm a huge wimp about heels, so YHMV.
Laura - Oct 26, 2009 1:51:00 am PDT #27931 of 30000
Our wings are not tired.
Both wedding sandals are nice.
There's a Chinese tradition to shave off a baby's hair while they're young, the idea being so it'll grow in thicker.
My parents should have done this.
Shir - Oct 26, 2009 3:57:11 am PDT #27932 of 30000
"And that's why God Almighty gave us fire insurance and the public defender".
Health~ma for your cousin and future baby, askye.
Aims - Oct 26, 2009 4:05:22 am PDT #27933 of 30000
Shit's all sorts of different now.
Dear meth-dealers and makers,
Fuck you for making it so that we can't have nice drugs. Easily.
Signed,
Don't know why they needed the Myers-Briggs profile to give her the Sudafed.
Aims - Oct 26, 2009 4:24:55 am PDT #27934 of 30000
Shit's all sorts of different now.
Also,
Dear Potential Tenants,
If you have time to call me and bitch at me about how you were given the wrong line to take to get to us, then you have enough time to call the fucking AATA and get the information your damn self.
Signed,
Way too effing early for this shit.
Fay - Oct 26, 2009 5:55:22 am PDT #27935 of 30000
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
Evidence of The Cat Daniel's macchiavellian nature: I rescued him from Cat Prison this afternoon, where he'd been consigned while I went gadding off to Cambodia.
He appeared very pleased to be rescued, although he was vocal in his disapproval of Cat Prison (and, yes, clearly he acts all frantic and feral if they try to let him out of the cage to hang out - they agreed that he was best just left in the cage, to glower peacefully out at the world).
However, I fed and watered him, and made a fuss of him, and then got on with internetting, to let him calm down and settle back into his space.
He was snuggly and purry, and clearly delighted with his fish supper. All appeared to be well. At first.
And then, an hour or so after we got home, after he'd lulled me into a false sense of security...
Vomit.
Fishy vomit.
Projectile fishy vomit.
ONTO THE MACBOOK.
(And the bedsheets, but, y'know - MacBook!)
Cue much frantic and repulsed cleaning up.
Macchiavellian, I tell you. A true minion of Basement Cat, he is.
::sighs::