Once upon a time, i was dead tired.
I kept waking up freaking out that we'd missed our train, and then i dreamed that we had actually missed our train, and then we got on the damn train at 8:45 this morning and just. barely. got. home. Okay, about an hour and a half ago. But. STILL.
Owowowowow.
And if i had to spend one more minute with type-eh!girl i was going to shove her under a train. I don't know how much Penny picked up on this, but she talks over you. Like, if you are in the middle of a sentence, she will SAY SOMETHING ELSE. And sometimes you will get a whole story out, and she will have NOT LISTENED.
Anyhoo, so. Now i have to write an essay. Before Monday. Which is also the day the damn play is. Also? Tomorrow i have rehearsal for said play for six hours.
My brain hurts.
So i watched Show with dinner.
Okay. Okay, fine. If Dean wants to say yes and fuck over Sam FAR WORSE THAN JOHN EVER FUCKED OVER HIM, then fine. FINE. Fuck it. Jensen will get to stretch out his acting wings (because lord knows, that boy NEVER gets to show off), and Jared can work on his emo (Sam's just too damn happy these days), and maybe--MAYBE--Michael will get an ickle bitty crush on Sam and flirt with him and make big ol cow eyes and Sam will say, "NO! You're not Dean! BAD TOUCH BAD TOUCH!" and Dean will SEE THE LIGHT, kick Michael to the curb, set up a nice little threeway with Lisa and Sam and they can raise Ben in a commune. A hippy commune, only with Zeppeline and Black Sabbath instead of ukuleles and weed.
This is a best case scenario, and the one i am clinging to.
It's not over until Sam caves. And even then...it will be in a commune.
SOUL MATES, REMEMBER? SORRY, YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY HURT ME ANYMORE.
p.s. Dean. Taking advice on end times from the hoor of babylon. As always, decision making skills unencumbered by the thought process.
*thumbs up*
P.(RL)S. The overhead light in my room is broke. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. The porters are off until Monday. ...Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.