(no subject)
Well dudes, I am writing this on a windy Sunday morning, sitting on a penthouse balcony overlooking all of Leeds and fighting the urge - no doubt caused by having watched the Goonies at a tender age - to make puking noises and then pour some gross shit over the people walking below me.
The Family von Froodle has descended upon Yorkshire and rather than make an ill-advised attempt to cram more than one person and three rabbits into my homey hovel, we have rented a top-floor apartment in the Chambers in Park Place.
And dudes, it is epic. When you walk in, the foyer is all marblelicious and there's "tasteful" displays of modern art in all the alcoves (note: these are not alcoves suitable for hidin' when employed in the killin' of dudes, these are alcoves for the tasteful displayin' of tasteful modern art) and there's a twenty-four hour concierge service and, dudes, if you want a DVD or some groceries or whatever, you just ring down to reception and they go and get it for you! How awesome is that!
And the apartment itself is even more awesome - it's got floor to ceiling windows on all the outside walls, and a balcony that runs all the way around and has blue spotlights in the floor that you can turn on at night, and sliding doors in each room that open on to the balcony and one of those jzacuzzi-baths and hardwood floors and lights in the wardrobe that come on when you open the door and a TV in the bathroom.
And oh, my God, the TVs! They are so big, I think they are giving me AIDS. AIDS causes you to want to steal stuff, right? I was watching SGA last night (on DVD, but it was my DVD that I brought with me, not a DVD I randomly made the reception dude run out and get for me because that would make me feel uncomfortable and jerklike) and, okay, Joe Flannigan and Major Lorne are beautiful even on my small old-school piece of shit TV, but in 40-inch hi-def with surround sound, their combined beauty is enough to melt your face.
I always make fun of James for working ridiculously long hours, figuring that nothing could make a seventy-hour week worthwhile, but when I see this place, how some people live, I can understand it a little bit better. Don't get me wrong, my character flaws are such that I am a lot more lazy than I am materialistic, but I do get it a bit now.
Anyway, we went to see Dreamboats and Petticoats on Friday and it was marvellous - it's about this dude who enters a song-writing competition, and his writing partner is in love with him, only he is in love with this slutty hot chick, who is in love with this slutty hot guy who, and this is the most important thing, was played by a total bargin basement Jensen Ackles. And it was all set in the fifties and there were awesome old-school rock and roll songs and those beautiful circle dresses and it was made of win. And! Nobody even died or exploded or shot some dudes, and I still loved it, so that should tell you how great it was.
Anyway, Mama Froodle just got out of the shower so I'm going to put the laptop aside and go see what the plan is for the rest of the day. Later days!
The Family von Froodle has descended upon Yorkshire and rather than make an ill-advised attempt to cram more than one person and three rabbits into my homey hovel, we have rented a top-floor apartment in the Chambers in Park Place.
And dudes, it is epic. When you walk in, the foyer is all marblelicious and there's "tasteful" displays of modern art in all the alcoves (note: these are not alcoves suitable for hidin' when employed in the killin' of dudes, these are alcoves for the tasteful displayin' of tasteful modern art) and there's a twenty-four hour concierge service and, dudes, if you want a DVD or some groceries or whatever, you just ring down to reception and they go and get it for you! How awesome is that!
And the apartment itself is even more awesome - it's got floor to ceiling windows on all the outside walls, and a balcony that runs all the way around and has blue spotlights in the floor that you can turn on at night, and sliding doors in each room that open on to the balcony and one of those jzacuzzi-baths and hardwood floors and lights in the wardrobe that come on when you open the door and a TV in the bathroom.
And oh, my God, the TVs! They are so big, I think they are giving me AIDS. AIDS causes you to want to steal stuff, right? I was watching SGA last night (on DVD, but it was my DVD that I brought with me, not a DVD I randomly made the reception dude run out and get for me because that would make me feel uncomfortable and jerklike) and, okay, Joe Flannigan and Major Lorne are beautiful even on my small old-school piece of shit TV, but in 40-inch hi-def with surround sound, their combined beauty is enough to melt your face.
I always make fun of James for working ridiculously long hours, figuring that nothing could make a seventy-hour week worthwhile, but when I see this place, how some people live, I can understand it a little bit better. Don't get me wrong, my character flaws are such that I am a lot more lazy than I am materialistic, but I do get it a bit now.
Anyway, we went to see Dreamboats and Petticoats on Friday and it was marvellous - it's about this dude who enters a song-writing competition, and his writing partner is in love with him, only he is in love with this slutty hot chick, who is in love with this slutty hot guy who, and this is the most important thing, was played by a total bargin basement Jensen Ackles. And it was all set in the fifties and there were awesome old-school rock and roll songs and those beautiful circle dresses and it was made of win. And! Nobody even died or exploded or shot some dudes, and I still loved it, so that should tell you how great it was.
Anyway, Mama Froodle just got out of the shower so I'm going to put the laptop aside and go see what the plan is for the rest of the day. Later days!