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it's not over
Jul. 20th, 2007 08:27 amDear Internet and those dwelling within:
Shut the fuck up about Harry Potter for two seconds. EVERYTHING I CLICK HAS THIS SHIT ON IT. YOU COCAINE ADDICTS, QUIT MUSCLING IN ON MY FREE TIME. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID, WHINY WIZARD KIDS AND THEIR PLIGHT WITH THE FORCES OF EVIL. GO CRY TO YOUR HARRY POTTER SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE OR SQUEAL LIKE ANIMALS TO YOUR CIRCLEJERK OF A FANDOM.
Since when has that stupidass, overhyped book been more important than real news, television. What the fuck.
Christ. FANDOMS.I swear, I'm glad the Avatards don't milk out their anticipation for s3 like THIS.
This funeral thing is not rocking out hardcore, obviously. The first hour yesterday was pretty shit. Gramma looks like a wax figurine and not like herself at all. Poor Grampa. But Uncle Andy kept sobbing every time he went up there. It was bad.
I had to stay up there from noon till five, then we went to Bob Evans, then came back at seven and stayed till nine. I have not been so tired in a long time. I don't want to do this again, but heeere we go. Back to the church to bury the good lady. Then lunch, then probably stuck at Auntie B's for a few hours, because she's scared to be with Grampa alone.
Oh and I had a kind-of-creepy fundie talking at me in the church. It was an Apostolic church, so...yes?
The only thing positive is being able to solidify Fitch Lavoie's look. He looks like he's recovering from a hangover. Eternally.
This has not been a good set of days. I just want to rip something up and growl and glare at things and be altogether intimidating, a creature of wrath purely composed of the FURY OF CAPSLOCK.
Shut the fuck up about Harry Potter for two seconds. EVERYTHING I CLICK HAS THIS SHIT ON IT. YOU COCAINE ADDICTS, QUIT MUSCLING IN ON MY FREE TIME. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID, WHINY WIZARD KIDS AND THEIR PLIGHT WITH THE FORCES OF EVIL. GO CRY TO YOUR HARRY POTTER SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE OR SQUEAL LIKE ANIMALS TO YOUR CIRCLEJERK OF A FANDOM.
Since when has that stupidass, overhyped book been more important than real news, television. What the fuck.
Christ. FANDOMS.
This funeral thing is not rocking out hardcore, obviously. The first hour yesterday was pretty shit. Gramma looks like a wax figurine and not like herself at all. Poor Grampa. But Uncle Andy kept sobbing every time he went up there. It was bad.
I had to stay up there from noon till five, then we went to Bob Evans, then came back at seven and stayed till nine. I have not been so tired in a long time. I don't want to do this again, but heeere we go. Back to the church to bury the good lady. Then lunch, then probably stuck at Auntie B's for a few hours, because she's scared to be with Grampa alone.
Oh and I had a kind-of-creepy fundie talking at me in the church. It was an Apostolic church, so...yes?
The only thing positive is being able to solidify Fitch Lavoie's look. He looks like he's recovering from a hangover. Eternally.
This has not been a good set of days. I just want to rip something up and growl and glare at things and be altogether intimidating, a creature of wrath purely composed of the FURY OF CAPSLOCK.
