I don't know, a psychiatrist?
I woke up this morning feeling like I had a massive hangover, even though I... didn't drink all weekend. Then I had to turn down hanging out with a pretty girl because a) exposing myself to direct sunlight with this headache probably would have finished me off and b) what the fuck, who invites me over to cook food? I can barely handle boiling water. So I've spent most of today reading the Black Dahlia (I needed a break from rereading Harry Potter because I kept SPONTANEOUSLY CRYING at every mention of Sirius Black and I have four more books to go, what even), which I love, and mainlining episodes of the Big Bang Theory because paperskin has all the best ideas. I am about halfway through season one and while I love everyone (except Howard, fuck that guy) and have frightened my mom with my hysterical laughter, I have also developed a massive crush on Kaley Cuoco. Holy shit, she is fucking adorable.
Which is, of course, what this post is actually about. Picspam is my life, all right.
Which is, of course, what this post is actually about. Picspam is my life, all right.