brandywine28: (squid)
Dear Christmas Smut,

I kind of hate you, and the thought of anyone else reading you is making me feel tense and itchy.

But, at this point, I doubt you're gonna get any better and, frankly, I'm sick of looking at you. So -- off into the world you go! To flourish or die, as the slash gods see fit!

*presses 'Finish'*


Wait! No! Come back! I can fix you!

brandywine28: (squid)
I...I forgot to send out any holiday cards. No, seriously, this is something that just occurred to me this second, when I found the unopened box of them that I bought the week before Thanksgiving, and lemme tell you, that's a hell of a realization to have five minutes to midnight on Christmas Eve Eve - especially when I've got gorgeous cards from [ profile] mickeym, [ profile] pensnest and [ profile] zebraljb beautifying my hall table.

I had such good intentions! I remember now! I was gonna make a formal LJ post about it, solicit addresses, everything!

The cards have fat little reindeer on them! FAT LITTLE REINDEER!

*digs a ditch, jumps inside*

Sigh. Maybe I should just embrace my fail-itude and send them out for Valentine's Day. Or Martin Luther King Day.
brandywine28: (squid)
My mother, when they showed Ronald McDonald (the costumed actor, not the enormous balloon) just now during the Macy's parade: "Oh, I didn't know he was still alive! Good for him."


I can't stop laughing. I think she may have finally killed me.
brandywine28: (autumn)
Briefly, as I just completed a harrowing late night yam run and am exhausted:

-A very happy birthday to my dear [ profile] zebraljb! How I long for the day when you will lounge upon my couch, reading aloud from the smutty Lancestravaganza...that I have yet to write. Huh. Better get on that. (And I guess I should start saving up for a nicer couch while I'm at it. One that doesn't vomit bright orange stuffing all over my floor, perhaps?)

-I dreamed that Justin Timberlake, Lance Bass and I were all childhood friends who decided to join the army together. At one point I stood up and serenaded my fellow privates with Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me". (Because OF COURSE I did.) Justin, to his credit, bopped his little head politely, but Lance didn't look too impressed. Jerk.

-If there ever was proof that I'm a huge, unrepentant dork it is this: when the cashier at the Korean market rang up my purchases just now, the total came to $19.37. "1937!", I chirped, grinning like a chipper idiot. "That's the year the Hindenburg went down!" ...yeah. The look she leveled at me can only be described as one of pure hatred--with a little boredom tossed in for good measure. I slunk away to the tune of a sad, sad trombone.

Anyway. :) To all those who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving!
brandywine28: (Default)
The thing--the really, really inconvenient thing--about sleeping in a bed that directly faces your fire escape window?

Is that eventually, some morning, you *will* wake up, roll over, rub the slumber out of your little eyes and realize there's a SQUIRREL out there staring--STARING--in at you, mere inches from your face, his tiny, squirrelly paws pressed against the screen. Ogling, as if your huddled, unconscious form is the most interesting thing it's ever seen. (Squirrels, man. The pervs of the animal kingdom. Who knew?) And then, because you're nothing if not dignified, you'll scream--a high-pitched, teenybopper-esque, a-guy-with-a-hook-for-a-hand-is-chasing-me-through-the-woods-at-night kinda scream, one that shakes the very foundation of your crappily constructed post-war apartment, jiggles the walls, rattles the floorboards and totally destroys your throat. And then your neighbor, a glowering 6'7 monstrosity of a man who until today has never so much as given you a perfunctory elevator head nod, will start banging on your door and yelling that he's about to call the police because he thinks you're being raped in there. And THEN you'll have to answer the door, sheepish and braless and sleep-encrusted, to explain that no! no, no, no, no, no! You're fine, just fine! It's just--it's--because--a squirrel...and you'll point to your window, only to see the damn thing is GONE, vanished into the morning mist as if it had never been there at all, and the man at your front door is looking at you like you're a lunatic (which, let's face it, you probably are).

...yeah. I ain't winning no awards for grace or comportment anytime soon, 's all I'm saying.


brandywine28: (Default)

June 2017

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