Smattering of Thoughts
I'm reading Blood Bound -- a new Dark Urban Fantasty book. It's entertaining, and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes the genre, but it's one of the minor characters that makes me deeply happy. One of her werewolves is gay. He's buff, somewhere around third in the pack hierarchy, has a kick-ass sometimes-lover, and is just all around keen. If I were a guy, I would so be lusting after him.
I am an adrenaline junky who should never ever own a real sports car. I'd just wind up pissing someone off and getting shot on 400.
Days are getting longer; this adds to my good mood.
Also. Barbaro? He's a horse. Now he's a dead horse, and while I could make cracks about beating him, I'll just pass. Horse. He was a potentially very expensive horse; he was a horse that suffered a really nasty injury after winning a big race, but he's still just a horse. While I love horses as much as the next Girl, I recognize that horses do not, in fact, have a strong sense of humor. They are not clever or funny or even particular insightful; they are horses. Please stop with the dramatic eulogies over Barbaro now.
I am an adrenaline junky who should never ever own a real sports car. I'd just wind up pissing someone off and getting shot on 400.
Days are getting longer; this adds to my good mood.
Also. Barbaro? He's a horse. Now he's a dead horse, and while I could make cracks about beating him, I'll just pass. Horse. He was a potentially very expensive horse; he was a horse that suffered a really nasty injury after winning a big race, but he's still just a horse. While I love horses as much as the next Girl, I recognize that horses do not, in fact, have a strong sense of humor. They are not clever or funny or even particular insightful; they are horses. Please stop with the dramatic eulogies over Barbaro now.