I have things to do and I don't want to do any of them and everything sucks and WHY DOES NO ONE UNDERSTAND ME didn't I expressively state I wanted the RED M&MS TAKEN OUT OF THE BATCH
BEFORE YOU GOT THEM TO ME god now I have to
wait and watch you flail and make a mess of everything WHICH IS REALLY NOT HOW I WANTED TO SPEND MY ME-TIME, YOU KNOW. GOD.
Or, you know. Something like that. POOP, guys. When is this week gonna be OVER. UGH.
Diiiiistractions. Gonna tell you about a dream I had! Because I need something to do that isn't staring at me from a word doc. THIS GOES FOR YOU, TOO, FIC FROM HELL. And don't give me that WHAT WHAT I'm just an assignment project document! face, NO ONE'S BUYING IT. Please X yourself within the coming ten seconds or I'll have to do it myself.
Anyway! Dreams. Freaky shit, dreams. The other night it was something about--me, my sister and my dad living in a centre parks like cabin in the woods, only. Yeah. My sister was a ghost and my dad was addicted to--WAIT FOR IT--WEREWOLF PILLS. Which, you know. Made him a WEREWOLF. And I disapproved, but it made him so happy and what else could I do, right? Well, one time something went wrong and he was sort of stuck in that ecstatic dog-like state of mind, and I had to go to a pharmacy to get the anti-werewolf pills, but the only pharmacy was in the next village (visited often by Kate Winslet. I DON'T EVEN). SO WE WENT THERE, but there was this--huge fair thing going on, and the pharmacy was on the street behind where the roller-coaster was, and there was no way around it. SO WE HAD TO CLIMB THE TRACKS, because the cars were only for people who actually went IN the attraction, like Kate Winslet, and it was all very bothersome and I got very annoyed.
ANOTHER ONE! From two weeks ago or something. It was--well, the main story was about me being crap at school and failing everything (ah, don't you love these?), but it was a universe with a different literary canon. AAAND the biggest work of fiction of this century, like. THE novel, THE Oprah Club jewel, was this book about a guy who'd proven God didn't exist. He'd found THE ultimate evidence, indisputable, like, the end. No more doubt, no question to it, GOD DID NOT EXIST. The story itself takes place five years later, after he'd published all his works and been on the news and talkshows and everything, aaaand he wakes up one morning, looks in the mirror and there's this. FLECK. In his eye. Like, his iris. A black FLECK. AND, UM. It's Jesus. The fleck is Jesus, and it starts talking to him. Just, random things. "Hi man, this is Jesus. How are you doing? Hey! By the way! Congrats on your big--you know, the, scientific, yeah, I don't know you guys' speak for that, but man! Awesome. Good for you. GOOD FOR YOU!"
YEAH I DON'T KNOW. There wasn't more plot that I can remember, because I fell asleep (in the dream) and then got woken up by a teacher who was sitting next to my bed STARING AT ME and screaming, 'READ READ READ!'
Hey, what could that POSSIBLY mean!
So, in conclusion, everyone should not indulge me when I'm procrastinating and head over to
camelotsolstice and check out the collective awesome posted there. Go! Go and I'll catch up in a week, yes. I'LL SEE YOU THERE IN A WEEK, YES.
Oh, and
HERE. Have the best Christmas song EVER. All I want for Christmas? Is a--GETTIN' CRUNK.