(no subject)
I'm not dead, I swear. More detailed post tomorrow (or really late tonight), but for now I leave you with this, and the awful truth that that is, in fact, my friend's boyfriend (HI YOU MUST BE SO PROUD No, seriously. I laughed my ass off, even if I was horrified.) and imagine that I'm doing lots of whining about how my research paper ("communist themes in soviet literature, with a focus on Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and the Margarita", which will probably be the title when it's capitalized, because I just cannot think of anything cunning enough to entitle it, and because obviously I love self-flaggelation) is eating my face off. It only has to be five pages, too, which, in retrospect, might be my problem. HOW CAN I CONDENSE?! The quotations alone!
Also, SGA Mondays are going to be the only thing keeping me alive in later weeks. How can starting out the week with hours and hours of McKay (or Sheppard. Or Zelenka. Or Lorne. Or Ronon. Or Elizabeth. or Teyla. Or Carson. Or Unknown Canadian Chevron Guy) be wrong? Don't answer that.
Also, SGA Mondays are going to be the only thing keeping me alive in later weeks. How can starting out the week with hours and hours of McKay (or Sheppard. Or Zelenka. Or Lorne. Or Ronon. Or Elizabeth. or Teyla. Or Carson. Or Unknown Canadian Chevron Guy) be wrong? Don't answer that.