I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS.
TODAY'S MENU:
grilled emo with a side of creamy lamesauce. AND DUMPLINGS.
for dessert: devil's food cake delicately drizzled with a glaze of ennui. topped with semi-sweet chocolate chips and, for a real taste sensation, a sprinkling of bitter pills.
THE GOOD:
somehow, people have not received the memo that i am actually a hermit crab. which is a unique condition for a zombie let me tell you. but on the plus side: pinchy claws rule!!!
i haven't written any new fanfic in a billion moons. but i have a backlog of a few chaps that i can, and possibly will, post.
THE BAD:
after nearly a week of no icon fuckery there is fresh hell! my beloved rose icon has turned into fancy shoes. THE HORROR BURNS, IT BURNNNNSSS.
i have not been very replyish to comments lately. i apologize and spread the false hope i will one day respond like a swirly gold cape.
HOWEVER, PLEASE NOTE I WAS NOT ACTUALLY ASKED TO LEAVE MICHAEL'S. stuff like that only happens in my brain. and now, on my flist as many of you read this and flinch away from your screen as if it's dripping ebola. (it is. you better RUN.)
THINGS I PROMISE WHILST I LANGUISH IN THE CAVE OF EMOTUDE AND SCRATCH SAD POETRY ON THE WALL WITH A ROCK:
i will finish my photo meme. because i know there's at least six five four two of you are interested in poor quality photos. hardy souls!
now, if you all chant to yourself at the same time on the same day in the same tone of voice: "i DO believe she'll write again, I DO, DO," perhaps you'll live to see me fic again. OR the dobby!doctor will escape the master's birdcage of doom. my money's on the fictional doctor.
LASTLY, i weep for those of you who have recently friended me out of some false notion that i am interesting. or that i fic. or that i am entertaining in any way. TURN BACK NOW. BEFORE THE WAY IS SHUT.
Poll poll of polling pollnesscomments allowed until the poll results are tallied!