but I'm horribly tempted to start something new. Mostly because I've finally reached the point where I can put Bev into a book -- not necessarily her Issues (because that wouldn't be cool), but rather some of the stuff she does. Or doesn't do, as the case may be ( Read more... )

The children eat whatever gets scraped together to feed them. And it's not like they're starving or anything ( Read more... )

( That's probably the first and last time I'll use that word. )

( Cut 'cause I love you more than I love some people. )

Chris put his hands on Jesse's chest and, I dunno, groped him some. Who the fuck can write smut when there's a stupid four-year-old demanding you play their game for them and who can't fucking understand that there's a fucking REASON the game is "too haaaaaard" for them: THEY ARE FOUR FUCKING YEARS OLD AND OH MY GOD I HATE THIS SO SO MUCH.

I don't really care about pages, or files, or welcome messages! I LIKE Google Groups! There aren't any gigantic headers and footers taking up space with advertisements!

*Siiiiigh* But no one asked, so I'll just suck it up and go along with it.

God, I am such an unpleasant, whiny, argumentative, negative little bitch, aren't I?

( They're heeee~ere... )

( I'm so sorry; I really have no other topics of conversation. )

THEN YOU BETTER FUCKING STEP UP TO THE PLATE, BITCH.

Jesus, this is so fucking unfair. To them; to the hundreds of thousands of people who would fucking LOVE the responsibility but, for whatever reason, can't... So unfair.

Please indulge me one. More. Time.

( In which I rant some more about That Woman. )