*headdesk*
I'm having one of those weeks where I do something then immediately panic about what I did. For example, posting comments in LJ that have html in them. I will even post the comment as a response to one of my own entries so I can see if the html works. Why? What will incorrect html cause that is so terrifying to me? Do the html police come and arrest me for fucking up what should be a simple task? Does the person to whom I was commenting immediately forward my example of crap html to all their friends and say "look at this loser"? Clearly I need to gain some perspective.
Thursday night/Friday morning was spent travelling from Belfast to London by coach, via Stranraer, Manchester and Birmingham. I must have a level of tiredness that makes me seem like an approachable person, because I kept getting talked to by strangers. A girl named Nicole befriended me after worrying me by not knowing some basic geography and, on the train to Canterbury, some guy starting talking to me about his job, and Maidstone, and music. And then I went to the comic shop here to buy the next volume of The Sandman, and ended up spending an hour (this one's my fault) talking to the guy about the awfulness that is the second series of Heroes, and UK conventions, and he recommended some comic called Fables so I bought the first part. I probably embarrassed myself but I don't care because I was tired and don't really remember it, lol.
I am filled with love for my housemates. Sushi came back from Spain and has adopted the kissy greeting of Danny's family and still hasn't found her housekey. Naddyn just got back from Luxembourg today and straight away has gone online, while her suitcase and coat are lying abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. And Dutchy, for being Dutchy, because within five minutes of seeing her we'd already starting bitching about something.
This post really has nothing to do with anything, so I'll throw in a link to the Chaucer blog. Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog. Just read the I Can Hath Cheezburger post at least. (No thyng hath plesed me moore, or moore esed myn wery brayne than thes joili and gentil peyntures ycleped “Cat Macroes” or “LOL Cattes .” Thes wondirful peintures aren depicciouns of animals, many of them of gret weight and girth, the which proclayme humorous messages in sum queynte dialect of Englysshe (peraventure from the North?).) Also, here are the lolcats, because if you haven't seen them by now, why the hell not?! I Can Has Cheezburger?
Thursday night/Friday morning was spent travelling from Belfast to London by coach, via Stranraer, Manchester and Birmingham. I must have a level of tiredness that makes me seem like an approachable person, because I kept getting talked to by strangers. A girl named Nicole befriended me after worrying me by not knowing some basic geography and, on the train to Canterbury, some guy starting talking to me about his job, and Maidstone, and music. And then I went to the comic shop here to buy the next volume of The Sandman, and ended up spending an hour (this one's my fault) talking to the guy about the awfulness that is the second series of Heroes, and UK conventions, and he recommended some comic called Fables so I bought the first part. I probably embarrassed myself but I don't care because I was tired and don't really remember it, lol.
I am filled with love for my housemates. Sushi came back from Spain and has adopted the kissy greeting of Danny's family and still hasn't found her housekey. Naddyn just got back from Luxembourg today and straight away has gone online, while her suitcase and coat are lying abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. And Dutchy, for being Dutchy, because within five minutes of seeing her we'd already starting bitching about something.
This post really has nothing to do with anything, so I'll throw in a link to the Chaucer blog. Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog. Just read the I Can Hath Cheezburger post at least. (No thyng hath plesed me moore, or moore esed myn wery brayne than thes joili and gentil peyntures ycleped “Cat Macroes” or “LOL Cattes .” Thes wondirful peintures aren depicciouns of animals, many of them of gret weight and girth, the which proclayme humorous messages in sum queynte dialect of Englysshe (peraventure from the North?).) Also, here are the lolcats, because if you haven't seen them by now, why the hell not?! I Can Has Cheezburger?