Arthur C. Clarke has died.

When I take over the universe, people who send spam will be locked in a room and forced to answer chirpy incomprehensible telemarketing calls until they die.

*whines incessantly about job instead of writing fic*

And then I get woken up at six because all our servers have dropped off the internet and, of course, it happened while my boss is on holiday and incommunicado, which means I've already been at work for 90 minutes and two dozen phone calls and they're back up now 'cause I took ns3 offline and reset everything but I have no idea what actually caused ( Read more... )

There's nothing like failing horribly at every single thing you try in a day to do to really brighten up your weekend.

Sympathy is boring. Bring me porn.

It's 10 o'clock.

My thermometer thingy on the outside wall thinks it's almost 30C.

In England.

England.

Damn you, global warming!

Happy birthday, marksykins!

I still haven't written any fic, though. *is so slow*

Happy birthday, kittydesade!

Happy birthday, nothingbutfic!

There would be fic here but, um, I kinda haven't written it yet. Hee!