(no subject)
I would like to register a complaint with someone about this nonsense of my biological clock getting set, over the course of the semester, to wake me up at 7 or 8 AM whether or not:
a) I like it.
b) I have classes.
c) There is a sunrise.
Because seriously, I'm on break and the sun won't be up for hours yet. What the hell.
Yesterday I got my hair cut, as promised, and I think it ended up a little shorter than I really wanted. Oh, well. Give it a few weeks and it'll be perfect. I also got an eyebrow wax, at my hairdresser's recommendation insistence (and with her money, so). I am . . . not sure how I feel about it? It's not a dramatic change, but the skin around my eyebrows feels funny, still.
I'm re-reading my Sherlock Holmes books, preparatory to the release of Robert Downey Jr. as Holmes (tangent: okay, I love RDJ, and what little I've seen Jude Law in, I've loved. But every bone in my Sherlockian body cries out in protest at this five-foot-nine hunk of beefsteak playing this tall, skinny, beaky, intellectually but not physically attractive man. Jude Law may not be perfect, either, but I'd buy him as Holmes a hell of a lot faster than I buy RDJ. I think RDJ would make a brilliant Watson, though). I think I might lobby for a library trip and get out some Stephen King, though; reading the backlog of DT OOMs and briefly discussing It with batyatoon has given me a hankering to catch up on what I've been missing, and I don't really feel like trying to reread any of the Dark Tower books themselves at this juncture.
Right; time for some breakfast.
ETA: Didn't manage to find either IT or Just After Sunset; picked up Firestarter to assuage my needs, and Journal of the Plague Year for dramaturgical stuff.
a) I like it.
b) I have classes.
c) There is a sunrise.
Because seriously, I'm on break and the sun won't be up for hours yet. What the hell.
Yesterday I got my hair cut, as promised, and I think it ended up a little shorter than I really wanted. Oh, well. Give it a few weeks and it'll be perfect. I also got an eyebrow wax, at my hairdresser's recommendation insistence (and with her money, so). I am . . . not sure how I feel about it? It's not a dramatic change, but the skin around my eyebrows feels funny, still.
I'm re-reading my Sherlock Holmes books, preparatory to the release of Robert Downey Jr. as Holmes (tangent: okay, I love RDJ, and what little I've seen Jude Law in, I've loved. But every bone in my Sherlockian body cries out in protest at this five-foot-nine hunk of beefsteak playing this tall, skinny, beaky, intellectually but not physically attractive man. Jude Law may not be perfect, either, but I'd buy him as Holmes a hell of a lot faster than I buy RDJ. I think RDJ would make a brilliant Watson, though). I think I might lobby for a library trip and get out some Stephen King, though; reading the backlog of DT OOMs and briefly discussing It with batyatoon has given me a hankering to catch up on what I've been missing, and I don't really feel like trying to reread any of the Dark Tower books themselves at this juncture.
Right; time for some breakfast.
ETA: Didn't manage to find either IT or Just After Sunset; picked up Firestarter to assuage my needs, and Journal of the Plague Year for dramaturgical stuff.