When I write fic, I like to write the dialogue first as a sort of outline then come back and fill in the narrative later.  Unfortunately, that means I sometimes come back to contextless shit like this:

“The racial equivalent of George Washington.”

I mean, wtf does that even MEAN?  In a ST:Reboot fic??

My computer's baaaaaccccckkkkk!

With a new keyboard, new display, and new logic board...Thank God Cas for warranties.

I'll be getting around to my monumental (seriously. how did people get anything done before computers?) pile of stuff-to-do soon, but right now I think we're just going to cuddle and enjoy some Wincest.  It's been too long.

Finally got a new laptop.  I had the power cord of the last one duct taped in place just to keep it working.  Incredibly classy, I know ( Read more... )

( Yesterday was a bit terrifying... )

So I woke up and just kind of lay in bed because, hey, it's 5:30.

My mind was drifting pretty aimlessly when I remembered this crazy dream I had.  About SPN.  There's Dean and Sam and action and adventure and SAMUEL CAMPBELL! and angst.  And I was all like 'WOW.  yeah, brain.  you rock!  bestest brain ever, giving me Supernatural dreams ( Read more... )

( mostly for my own reference, but go ahead and prod me if I'm slacking )

Dear Paris,

Thank you for being a cokewhore.

Because of your public shame, I got the "amazing rotating iron" with your face on the box for $30.00 (retail $150.00 pffft).

Kisses!

Ayslin

And I saw a 'gentlemen's club' named Cheerleaders on Liberty Avenue.

I feel misled.

Queer as Folk, I'm looking at you.