Dear Self,

It has come to my attention that you are a gobsmacked moron and that your stupidity is such, it's impossible to measure it in any known metric system. This will, needless to say, blow up in your face and, should you survive it, I'll be gleefully laughing my ass off at your expense.

Also, stop planning matricide and get on with it, damnit.

( Read more... )

That was... odd.

Satisfying and almost... comforting.

Which is odd, since I just had a glass of whiskey exploding on my head.

And it hurt.

I don't know anyone who'd dare do such a stupid thing.

Maybe I should go hunting again, soon. I haven't killed anything in a long, long time, so that should make my stupid subconscious stop being metaphoric.

Maybe I' ( Read more... )