Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Nov. 20th, 2003 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deathpixieYe gods it's a slow day today. Both here and online. Which isn't good, because I rely on the second to distract me from the first. And my email account is a howling wasteland populated by the occasional work missive from On High bounding along like tumbleweeds.
And it's only 2.30pm, which means I have two and a half more hours of this to go. No wonder I haven't written anything for weeks - after a day of this my brain shuts down. Seriously, it's worse than Thorazine.
Heh, sounds like an icon-quote: "PERIN - Who needs Thorazine?"
The worst of it is that I start making countless LJ posts about how bored I am, which is boring to the people who have me listed, no matter how many amusing metaphors I use in the vain hope I'll be metaquoted again (no-one posted my skirt story, wah!). I'm boring myself, so I can only wonder why you lot are still here. And why should you entertain me when I don't entertain you?
Hey! Random ficbit - I'm going to see if I can't prod the cottage cheese that used to be my intellect into doing some more of the Adventures of Deena and Tim In The Piercing Parlour.
"Well, yeah. I'm here in London on business, and you know those hotel rooms, they get a bit claustrophobic after a while - there's only so many five star goodies a girl can handle, and you can't fit them into your suitcase unless it's absolutely HUGE. So I decided I needed a belly piercing. Walker's going to hate it."
"Walker?" Tim's head was reeling, more from the gush of words than the pain from his eyebrow.
"Christian Walker, my partner. Great guy, but a bit stuffy, you know?"
"I… suppose. You call your partner by his surname?"
"Of course." Deena looked at him, realizing he'd meant something else. "Oh, Walker's my work partner. We're not married, or sleeping together, or anything like that. I love the big lug, but man, we'd drive each other crazy by the time we signed the certificate!"
And it's only 2.30pm, which means I have two and a half more hours of this to go. No wonder I haven't written anything for weeks - after a day of this my brain shuts down. Seriously, it's worse than Thorazine.
Heh, sounds like an icon-quote: "PERIN - Who needs Thorazine?"
The worst of it is that I start making countless LJ posts about how bored I am, which is boring to the people who have me listed, no matter how many amusing metaphors I use in the vain hope I'll be metaquoted again (no-one posted my skirt story, wah!). I'm boring myself, so I can only wonder why you lot are still here. And why should you entertain me when I don't entertain you?
Hey! Random ficbit - I'm going to see if I can't prod the cottage cheese that used to be my intellect into doing some more of the Adventures of Deena and Tim In The Piercing Parlour.
"Well, yeah. I'm here in London on business, and you know those hotel rooms, they get a bit claustrophobic after a while - there's only so many five star goodies a girl can handle, and you can't fit them into your suitcase unless it's absolutely HUGE. So I decided I needed a belly piercing. Walker's going to hate it."
"Walker?" Tim's head was reeling, more from the gush of words than the pain from his eyebrow.
"Christian Walker, my partner. Great guy, but a bit stuffy, you know?"
"I… suppose. You call your partner by his surname?"
"Of course." Deena looked at him, realizing he'd meant something else. "Oh, Walker's my work partner. We're not married, or sleeping together, or anything like that. I love the big lug, but man, we'd drive each other crazy by the time we signed the certificate!"
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Boo!
Date: 2003-11-19 07:46 pm (UTC)Greetings from the other side of the world.
I am typing without a shirt on.
Very happy to see you.
Bye!
*poink*
Date: 2003-11-19 07:48 pm (UTC)The Might Camp Woman is regaling us with tales of her date. She's so cute. (: Tell us how things are going!