Ink Stains and Empty Teacups

Today has just been one colossal case of opening One's mouth merely to change feet.

I may or may not have mentioned in passing conversation that Dad wants to start up a pension fund for me and my sisters.

This was not a good idea.

Ma went absolutely bugnuts monkeyfuck insane. And is now angsting like a damsel wronged because she now won't be able to get within 20 years of said money.

...Ooops?

What's with the arriving to the fandom party to find you're so late the balloons have deflated? What the hell, self? I know you have punctuality issues, but seriously. This is getting ridiculous.

No love,
Fangirl

...Bloody Ewan McGregor.

Making me like Star Wars *grumble*. As if I didn't have enough geekery as it is, ohhhhh nooooooo, he had to go and make me investigate more!

Obi-Wan/ Padme, anyone?

*despairs*

What is it about the British Summer that automatically makes my body think, hey, this is a brilliant time for tonsilitus?


EBIL TONSILS ARE EBIL. AND SWOLLEN. AND FRANKLY LOOK AS IF THEY'VE GONE OFF.

Also: wtf? I'm shivering. It's 22 degrees Centigrade outside.