I killed Amanda Palmer.
THIS APARTMENT IS A FUCKING DISASTER AREA. So obviously the solution is to write in my LJ. :D
I don't know where to start. Well, I guess I sort of do. I just get frustrated with having to move something in order to walk over to clean up something else. I pretty much walk in the door, think "meh" to myself, get all deflated and defeated and get on the internet. The internet fixes everything. :P
I'm a retard.
Anyway, I suppose we're "getting there". I feel like there's a bit more floorspace in some areas than there used to be, or maybe it's just that the junk has just been moved to a less-traveled part of the floor. I don't know. Whatever. The sun will come out tomorrow, and we will figure this out somehow. *raises fist in the air triumphantly*
Amanda Palmer's solo album came out today. We pre-ordered it, the most expensive package, which comes with a ridiculous amount of extras: autographs, a book thing with photos and stories by Neil Gaiman, vinyl, lithographs, a strand of Amanda's armpit hair... it was definitely worth the money.
AND TOMORROW WE'RE GOING TO SEE HER IN PORTLAND (Maine, of course). I'm stoked.
Thursday is some African drumming thing at Matt's college, and then Friday there's apparently a drag show in Hallowell. This week has been pretty busy.
I need a job. I need an occupational therapist to help me learn to cook in a gimp-friendly way. I need to cut my fingernails. I need to mail back my digital camera so that I can get a replacement, because I miss it badly. Most importantly, I need to get the laundry in the dryer and clean the apartment. Bye.
I don't know where to start. Well, I guess I sort of do. I just get frustrated with having to move something in order to walk over to clean up something else. I pretty much walk in the door, think "meh" to myself, get all deflated and defeated and get on the internet. The internet fixes everything. :P
I'm a retard.
Anyway, I suppose we're "getting there". I feel like there's a bit more floorspace in some areas than there used to be, or maybe it's just that the junk has just been moved to a less-traveled part of the floor. I don't know. Whatever. The sun will come out tomorrow, and we will figure this out somehow. *raises fist in the air triumphantly*
Amanda Palmer's solo album came out today. We pre-ordered it, the most expensive package, which comes with a ridiculous amount of extras: autographs, a book thing with photos and stories by Neil Gaiman, vinyl, lithographs, a strand of Amanda's armpit hair... it was definitely worth the money.
AND TOMORROW WE'RE GOING TO SEE HER IN PORTLAND (Maine, of course). I'm stoked.
Thursday is some African drumming thing at Matt's college, and then Friday there's apparently a drag show in Hallowell. This week has been pretty busy.
I need a job. I need an occupational therapist to help me learn to cook in a gimp-friendly way. I need to cut my fingernails. I need to mail back my digital camera so that I can get a replacement, because I miss it badly. Most importantly, I need to get the laundry in the dryer and clean the apartment. Bye.