UGHWENTZUGH
I've downgraded my dream loves from zombies to Pete Wentz. Yes. I had a steamy dream about Pete fucking Wentz this morning. I was selling him a book? I think he was sort of the popular guy in school who'd already hooked up with all my friends, and I served him at a bookshop, and he discussed The Manchurian Candidate with me (I've neither seen the movie nor read the book, btw). Then for some reason the register didn't work, and we had to sit behind the counter together and wait. We were huddled all close and it was all intense and then he KISSED ME. For AGES. And it was REALLY, REALLY GOOD.
UGHUGHUGHUGHUGH.
You guys know how I feel about Wentz! And you know how when you dream about someone you wake up feeling all...fond of them? That happened! I wailed. I wailed at Trav "I had a naughty dream about Pete Wentz!!!" and oh, he laughed. I felt like I needed a shower.
I left the house for the first time (apart from for work. I didn't go Monday, had Tuesday off anyway, took another day off on Wednesday, but taking Thursday off too woulda been pushing it) on Saturday to see The Dark Night, then again today because I had to buy a slip to wear under a very sheer dress Trav got me the other week. Nothing raunchy! It's dark blue, but the cotton is really thin and you could see my underwear through it. A slip! I feel so 1950's.
I still don't want to write about what happened. Maybe in a while, under friendslock or filter. I'm sorry. I've always tried to be very honest in here, but some things you have to play close to the vest. I want you all to know that I'm feeling a lot better. Fragile. Going to the shopping centre today, I felt like I was in danger of being trampled under foot at any second. But, yeah, better. Sorry to all my friends I'm neglecting and being awful to.
My dream about Wentz probably has something to do with the profoundness of my emo, and my subconscious mocking me about it.
(his lips were so nice, OMG I'm NOT attracted to Pete Wentz!!)
In a rare bout of good news in between all the emo and Wentziness, (the proverbial rock and hard place?) the Saints beat the Hawks last night in a really stunning victory. We came from behind (hurr hurr hurr) to win by thirty points! I was so happy, especially 'cause we were being slaughtered in the first half. Stellar performances from the Golden Boy Nick Riewoldt (6 straight goals!!), Nick Dal Santo and Jason Blake really pushed us over the edge. Also, my gorgeous little David Armitage ('mine' in a very loose interpretation of the word) missed a few, but then laid a beautiful tackle on Lance Franklin that stopped him kicking a crucial goal. And lo, I wept, for Armitage is very goodlooking. (As is Lance Franklin, actually, but he plays for the Hawkes, so boo!)
Fuck, I love football.
And with that, I take my leave. I'm almost finished the last book in Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel series, and Imriel de la Courcel awaits!
--Beck
UGHUGHUGHUGHUGH.
You guys know how I feel about Wentz! And you know how when you dream about someone you wake up feeling all...fond of them? That happened! I wailed. I wailed at Trav "I had a naughty dream about Pete Wentz!!!" and oh, he laughed. I felt like I needed a shower.
I left the house for the first time (apart from for work. I didn't go Monday, had Tuesday off anyway, took another day off on Wednesday, but taking Thursday off too woulda been pushing it) on Saturday to see The Dark Night, then again today because I had to buy a slip to wear under a very sheer dress Trav got me the other week. Nothing raunchy! It's dark blue, but the cotton is really thin and you could see my underwear through it. A slip! I feel so 1950's.
I still don't want to write about what happened. Maybe in a while, under friendslock or filter. I'm sorry. I've always tried to be very honest in here, but some things you have to play close to the vest. I want you all to know that I'm feeling a lot better. Fragile. Going to the shopping centre today, I felt like I was in danger of being trampled under foot at any second. But, yeah, better. Sorry to all my friends I'm neglecting and being awful to.
My dream about Wentz probably has something to do with the profoundness of my emo, and my subconscious mocking me about it.
(his lips were so nice, OMG I'm NOT attracted to Pete Wentz!!)
In a rare bout of good news in between all the emo and Wentziness, (the proverbial rock and hard place?) the Saints beat the Hawks last night in a really stunning victory. We came from behind (hurr hurr hurr) to win by thirty points! I was so happy, especially 'cause we were being slaughtered in the first half. Stellar performances from the Golden Boy Nick Riewoldt (6 straight goals!!), Nick Dal Santo and Jason Blake really pushed us over the edge. Also, my gorgeous little David Armitage ('mine' in a very loose interpretation of the word) missed a few, but then laid a beautiful tackle on Lance Franklin that stopped him kicking a crucial goal. And lo, I wept, for Armitage is very goodlooking. (As is Lance Franklin, actually, but he plays for the Hawkes, so boo!)
Fuck, I love football.
And with that, I take my leave. I'm almost finished the last book in Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel series, and Imriel de la Courcel awaits!
--Beck