(no subject)

[kittydesade]

Wann
Wann arbeitst du heute?
Wann machst du Fitnesstraining?
Wann gehst du ins Kino?
Wann hörst du Enya?

Warum
Warum machst du Fitnesstraining?
Warum hörst du gern Enya?
Warum gehst du gern Inlineskaten?
Warum findest du KMFDM gut?

Was
Was ist dass auf Deutsch?
Was ist dass auf Japonisch?
Was ist dass auf Franszoisch?

Was für (ein)
Was für ein Musik ist KMFDM?
Was für ein Musik ist Enya?
Was für ein Mensch bist du?

Welch(-er, -es, -e)
Welche Diskette ist deine?
Welcher Computer ist dein?
Welches Buch ist dein?
Welcher Saft ist dein?

Wer
Wer spielt heute Gitarre?
Wer spielen heute in Civic Centre?

Wie
Wie alt bist du?
Wie heißt du?

Wie viel
Wie viel Musik hast du über dein Computer?
Wie viel isst du?
Wie viel Uhr ist es?
Wie viel Hänchen kaufst du?

Wie viele
Wie viele Sprachen sprichst du?
Wie viele Kurse hast du?
Wie viele ... something. I'm out of sentences.


So, I lied. I actually have a buttload of German review still to do, so I'd better start making time for it during the weekdays. And possibly some this weekend, and cram in some Japanese review too. ON the plus side, Spring Cleaning is almost entirely done and costume assembly won't take that long, so I have plenty of time. Definitely need to figure out some kind of storage/portable storage for my costumes, though. The box my Silk Spectre outfit is in isn't going to last much longer. I also need to remember to charge my damn cell phone. This links because I was thinking that maybe I should call the boy and see if he wants to go shopping this evening since we didn't yesterday evening and then I thought maybe I could take the measurement of my Cheetara box and see if I found some cheap bags about that size or that would fit the costume and then I remembered that my cell phone still had no charge and thus you get my train of thought slowly leaving the station. Ahem.

Oh my god, people, stop ... I am so, so sick of Schwarzenegger's infidelity bullshit. I don't care. Like Tiger Woods before him, I just don't care. Stop. All of y'all. (Because I know the AP and Reuters and all those other gossip rags totally read my journal and hang upon every word, but I need to vent and this is my place to do it.) I don't care, it's not my business, it's no one's business but him and his family's and probably that woman and her kid's, and maybe the family doctors'. Or a lawyer's. That's it. It's not mine, it's not yours, it's not anyone else's. And, seriously, the press needs to find something else to goddamn write about because I am so, so sick of hearing who tripped and fell on whose dick.

Ahem. In other news, robots are just awesome. Seriously, you guys, that is so damn cool I don't even. Language geekery, I has it.

Right. Anyway. Um. Time to close some windows and get back to writing, I guess. Grocery shopping will happen tonight, along with maybe finding some cheap cosmetics cases to put my various kits for various costumes in. I think what I'll end up doing is just consolidating it all into a duffel bag, which we probably have around the house somewhere, and then putting the clothes into one sub-bag and the makeup into another and maybe if I have any wigs or other props, those can go into clear bags. Solution! I can has. And I still need to make my check-in post, damn.