(no subject)
Abitur is starting next week. The English equivalent of Abitur, I believe, is called "A-levels". I have no idea what the American version of this is called, or if there even is any. Suffice to say, VERY VERY IMPORTANT final tests, which I have been completely terrified of for the last nine years, and which have now finally caught up with me.
Strangely enough, I am not actually half as close to a psychotic break-down as I would have expected. That is mostly because I have managed to find a strangely zen place disturbed only by surprisingly rare moments of terrified, nausea-inducing panic, apathetic, traumatized disinterest and dangerous, delusional and lazy-making self-confidence.
The downside of all that is that the only thing I do consistently right now is study. I am negligent and horribly lazy about everything else, including but not limited to answering terribly important e-mails and feedbacking stories, and am randomly getting involved with completely unimportant but soothing things instead, and generally being a BAD friend. So if I seem to be ignoring you... well, okay, I am, but I promise I will feel horrible about it once this whole madness is over, and I will get back to you. Eventually. I'm sorry!
That said: Mission Impossible III: Best comedy since Ice Age 2. I suspect the producers weren't actually trying to be this hilarious, but I nevertheless spent the whole two hours with my hands pressed over my mouth, trying desperately to muffle my shrieks of laughter. My muscles are sore all over because I was shaking so hard. The mask! Cruise trying to be romantic and failing so badly! The tech! Cruise running around like a chicken! And did I mention the mask?
Also, there are choppers, and Cruise being chained to a chair, pleading and struggling desperately, with tears running down his face. Hello there, kinks I do not want to explore in too much detail.
In conclusion: Definitely worth the price of admission, if you're me. Especially as I had a free ticket.
In completely random news (I warned you about this, didn't I?), and because the seriously hot neighborhood boys caught me in my ratty pink bathrobe and torn, faded, leopard-patterned pajamas yesterday:
You know who never wears embarrassing sleepwear? Rodney. Because he gets called to midnight emergencies all the time, and after that one incident where he had to run into the control room in boxer shorts that he accidentally washed with the red socks, and which were consequently very, very pink, he always makes sure to be sleep in things he can present to the general public without wanting to die.
Sheppard, on the other hand, doesn't seem to care for sleep-wear at all. That one time the shields failed at three am, and the gate room was suddenly full of hostile aliens? He turned up wearing nothing but boots, skin-tight black boxers, and a belt with his thigh holster. Rodney was distracted from the DHD for a whole three seconds of critical emergency response time by the way the black holster looked against the pale skin of Sheppard's thigh.
ETA: Also, how much does it amuse me that the damn LJ-spellchecker does not actually accept "LJ" as a word?
Strangely enough, I am not actually half as close to a psychotic break-down as I would have expected. That is mostly because I have managed to find a strangely zen place disturbed only by surprisingly rare moments of terrified, nausea-inducing panic, apathetic, traumatized disinterest and dangerous, delusional and lazy-making self-confidence.
The downside of all that is that the only thing I do consistently right now is study. I am negligent and horribly lazy about everything else, including but not limited to answering terribly important e-mails and feedbacking stories, and am randomly getting involved with completely unimportant but soothing things instead, and generally being a BAD friend. So if I seem to be ignoring you... well, okay, I am, but I promise I will feel horrible about it once this whole madness is over, and I will get back to you. Eventually. I'm sorry!
That said: Mission Impossible III: Best comedy since Ice Age 2. I suspect the producers weren't actually trying to be this hilarious, but I nevertheless spent the whole two hours with my hands pressed over my mouth, trying desperately to muffle my shrieks of laughter. My muscles are sore all over because I was shaking so hard. The mask! Cruise trying to be romantic and failing so badly! The tech! Cruise running around like a chicken! And did I mention the mask?
Also, there are choppers, and Cruise being chained to a chair, pleading and struggling desperately, with tears running down his face. Hello there, kinks I do not want to explore in too much detail.
In conclusion: Definitely worth the price of admission, if you're me. Especially as I had a free ticket.
In completely random news (I warned you about this, didn't I?), and because the seriously hot neighborhood boys caught me in my ratty pink bathrobe and torn, faded, leopard-patterned pajamas yesterday:
You know who never wears embarrassing sleepwear? Rodney. Because he gets called to midnight emergencies all the time, and after that one incident where he had to run into the control room in boxer shorts that he accidentally washed with the red socks, and which were consequently very, very pink, he always makes sure to be sleep in things he can present to the general public without wanting to die.
Sheppard, on the other hand, doesn't seem to care for sleep-wear at all. That one time the shields failed at three am, and the gate room was suddenly full of hostile aliens? He turned up wearing nothing but boots, skin-tight black boxers, and a belt with his thigh holster. Rodney was distracted from the DHD for a whole three seconds of critical emergency response time by the way the black holster looked against the pale skin of Sheppard's thigh.
ETA: Also, how much does it amuse me that the damn LJ-spellchecker does not actually accept "LJ" as a word?