Rely a bit too heavily on alcohol and irony, get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love and lousy poetry. There is a reason I love The Weakerthans, oh yes.
I actually have started seeing my Love Interest again every so often. Unfortunately it is always when he in engaged in happy conversation with Other Girls, and I am depressed and covered in clay. (I'm rakishly disheveled, damn it!) I would say something if I thought it would do any good, but evidently we are not Just Friends anymore, and that makes it somewhat more difficult to approach him. Well you know what, I bloody well tried. He has my phone number. He was invited Amishing and to movies and things. I was fairly obvious, I think.
Oh well. It's not like my widdle heart is going to break in my widdle chest and I will cry emo tears of sexual repression. And the main characters in my NaNo novel are better than him anyway. So HA!
(Sucks though, eh? It is so rare for me to like someone who is actually, you know, present and available and non-fictional. And for a while things were going pretty well. I read the twenty-third part of Shoebox over again. I had hope.)
Archie Kennedy is also better than him. And you see Horatio's butt in the fifth movie. OHYES.
D00D, THE WHOLE SHIP IS WATCHING HIM BATHE. AND HE IS ALL LAUGHING AND ADORABLE ABOUT IT, TOO.
KENNEDY'S PERV STARE FOR THE WIN. SCREW ALL NONFICTIONAL PEOPLE! (We, naturally, are half fiction already, as we go down in the annals of history in a fairly exaggerated way. If that made no sense, then tell me. And I can put it into my incredibly random-assed novel.)
I actually have started seeing my Love Interest again every so often. Unfortunately it is always when he in engaged in happy conversation with Other Girls, and I am depressed and covered in clay. (I'm rakishly disheveled, damn it!) I would say something if I thought it would do any good, but evidently we are not Just Friends anymore, and that makes it somewhat more difficult to approach him. Well you know what, I bloody well tried. He has my phone number. He was invited Amishing and to movies and things. I was fairly obvious, I think.
Oh well. It's not like my widdle heart is going to break in my widdle chest and I will cry emo tears of sexual repression. And the main characters in my NaNo novel are better than him anyway. So HA!
(Sucks though, eh? It is so rare for me to like someone who is actually, you know, present and available and non-fictional. And for a while things were going pretty well. I read the twenty-third part of Shoebox over again. I had hope.)
Archie Kennedy is also better than him. And you see Horatio's butt in the fifth movie. OHYES.
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*Cackles* I love us...and hate most the other people
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KENNEDY'S PERV STARE FOR THE WIN. SCREW ALL NONFICTIONAL PEOPLE! (We, naturally, are half fiction already, as we go down in the annals of history in a fairly exaggerated way. If that made no sense, then tell me. And I can put it into my incredibly random-assed novel.)
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