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Nov. 2nd, 2012 10:51 am( Gaeilge )
You know, on the one hand I'm amused that certain conservatives/Republicans are so scared of Obama winning they think he's going to circumvent the actual fucking law saying that the Presidency is only two terms per person? It's in the US Constitution, guys. I am, however, not at all pleased that they're forcing independent agencies to withdraw proof that says their ideas are bullshit. We've known trickle-down theory doesn't work for thirty years. I knew it when I was a little girl. If a five year old can understand why trickle down theory doesn't work, you should be able to. It was a joke when I was little. It's not funny anymore.
(Yes, I had a different childhood.)
I need more Nameless icons, clearly. Also it deeply amuses me to be studying Irish right before tackling my daft Irish half-fae bastard story for Nanowrimo. Seriously, all I need now is to finish moving in to the house so I can set up the spinning wheel and then I can Nano and spin when I'm not Nanoing. And wear lots of flannel and take up drinking beer and being generally uncouth at everyone in my vicinity. NOTHING CAN POSSIBLY GO WRONG WITH THIS PLAN. Except I hate most of the beers he likes. Cider, I'll drink cider. Actually now I kind of do want to get a six pack of cider.
It's Friday. Yay. Tonight, TV and cleaning and packing, tomorrow, profiling and profiling and packing. Sunday! Packing and packing and moving stuff. I really love moving. Not. On the plus side, once we finish hopefully we won't have to move ever again. Or at least not for a really really damn long time. Maybe in between profiling I'll try to push this weekend and see how much packing we can get done, now that the house is, mm. 2/3 to 3/4 of the way done. Bathroom ceiling, heat pipes and their enclosing boxes need to be done. But I think that's mostly it. Couple weeks worth of work. WOO. HOO.
Right. How the fuck have I already spent my clothing allowance for the fortnight? (Answer: Because it's not a big allowance, silly.) How the fuck did I become the sort of person who can do that? (Answer: Because you bought leather bracelets with bullets and skulls on them.) I need to figure out how to tell if I can wear camisoles under things, preferably with several things to try on under them. Possibly this will involve getting out some of those shirts I bought for Faye Valentine. Ooh. I'll do that tonight, then. Along with packing and watching TV. Yesh. And fuck you, PMS weasels, I am not fucking tubby and saggy. I am in goddamn good shape and if I am feeling a little bloated and squishy right now it is because water retention because fucking PMS, so fuck you.
Yes, I still say 'fuck' a lot.
You know, on the one hand I'm amused that certain conservatives/Republicans are so scared of Obama winning they think he's going to circumvent the actual fucking law saying that the Presidency is only two terms per person? It's in the US Constitution, guys. I am, however, not at all pleased that they're forcing independent agencies to withdraw proof that says their ideas are bullshit. We've known trickle-down theory doesn't work for thirty years. I knew it when I was a little girl. If a five year old can understand why trickle down theory doesn't work, you should be able to. It was a joke when I was little. It's not funny anymore.
(Yes, I had a different childhood.)
I need more Nameless icons, clearly. Also it deeply amuses me to be studying Irish right before tackling my daft Irish half-fae bastard story for Nanowrimo. Seriously, all I need now is to finish moving in to the house so I can set up the spinning wheel and then I can Nano and spin when I'm not Nanoing. And wear lots of flannel and take up drinking beer and being generally uncouth at everyone in my vicinity. NOTHING CAN POSSIBLY GO WRONG WITH THIS PLAN. Except I hate most of the beers he likes. Cider, I'll drink cider. Actually now I kind of do want to get a six pack of cider.
It's Friday. Yay. Tonight, TV and cleaning and packing, tomorrow, profiling and profiling and packing. Sunday! Packing and packing and moving stuff. I really love moving. Not. On the plus side, once we finish hopefully we won't have to move ever again. Or at least not for a really really damn long time. Maybe in between profiling I'll try to push this weekend and see how much packing we can get done, now that the house is, mm. 2/3 to 3/4 of the way done. Bathroom ceiling, heat pipes and their enclosing boxes need to be done. But I think that's mostly it. Couple weeks worth of work. WOO. HOO.
Right. How the fuck have I already spent my clothing allowance for the fortnight? (Answer: Because it's not a big allowance, silly.) How the fuck did I become the sort of person who can do that? (Answer: Because you bought leather bracelets with bullets and skulls on them.) I need to figure out how to tell if I can wear camisoles under things, preferably with several things to try on under them. Possibly this will involve getting out some of those shirts I bought for Faye Valentine. Ooh. I'll do that tonight, then. Along with packing and watching TV. Yesh. And fuck you, PMS weasels, I am not fucking tubby and saggy. I am in goddamn good shape and if I am feeling a little bloated and squishy right now it is because water retention because fucking PMS, so fuck you.
Yes, I still say 'fuck' a lot.