Brake on the left, gas on the right.
Oh my god, I lose at life so much. I was so proud for -finally- getting my flashfiction done, and posted on the DOT of the deadline.
And then eight minutes pass and I realise I posted to my JOURNAL and not the community.
*fails. at. life.*
And now I am supposed to be cleaning my room *doesn't* or wrapping presents *droops* and in reality? Am going to go nap for a while. Or maybe make coffee and try and do internety business.
Anyway, for the reference of, well, anyone who cares: I'm house-and-dog-sitting on the other side of town from this evening until the 7th of January, which means I don't know how 'around' I will be, as the internet situation is not entirely clear, so depending on if I can steal wireless/find a dialup connection to make (which, uh, could be difficult as I broke and/or lost the dialup cable for the laptop last year) I may only be stopping by the house to collect email/etc most days. So, basically: I will see people as and when I can, hopefully. Mostly my plans involve a firm desire to spend all of tomorrow in my pajamas patting the dog and watching SG1. Also, I'm on my own entirely at work for the next two weeks (MEEP) so I'll possibly be working late, and/or freaking out at intervals. This may or may not manifest as flaily LJ posts.
ANYWAY. Love to all, and if I don't get a chance to say this later: Merry Christmas, one and all, and Happy Hannukah and Yule and belated Solstice and, well, every other seasonal holiday or un-holiday as and where appropriate to you all. *smooches all around, except where prohibited by a) law or b) existence of partners who would frown upon it*
In other news,
Does anyone else sort of consistently check other people's away messages, even if you don't usually use that medium to talk to them at all? Just me and _unhurt_, then?
Because we've been having a semi-conversation in away messages and it amuses me greatly and, seriously, I cannot get across just how much it fills me with ♥. Seriously. So many ♥. Even if she DOES apparently want me to write mpreg. *sniffs indignantly* See?
[shihadchick's away message reads:] tired! Feverish! Writing?
[unhurt's away message reads:] not as good an away message as s-chick’s usually are. Feel better soon!
[shihadchick's away message reads:] v. amused by unhurt! Tired! Feverish! Writing?
[unhurt's away message reads:] definitely not as good an away message as s-chick's current one (:sends m-preg: er, i mean :drugs:)
[shihadchick's away message reads:] driving brother to airport. still feverish, but not feverish enough to write mpreg. YET. *snerk*
[unhurt's away message reads:] demands s-chick write m-preg. for great justice!
Oh, and also? Driving back from the airport this afternoon, I had a disturbing familial realisation. So, okay, 1. I love my country. Because my brother got to the airport less than fifteen minutes before his flight was due to leave, with baggage to check as well, but, she'll be right, no worries. And of course, that was exactly the case. (Got a text from him when I was halfway home confirming it was okay, and I think he's about to leave Napier again now?) and 2. He's gone to Napier. To buy a new car. Because his other one got written off earlier in the month through no fault of his own. And I was just thinking about that and being indignant on his behalf once more, because the poor guy has had the worst luck with cars in the last three years, and then I realised: it's like he's RAY VECCHIO and the stupid Galant is the kiwi boy racer equivalent of the Riv. And then by extension that makes me Francesca. *headdesks. while giggling.* (This metaphor can actually be extended further but I choose not to dwell on that.)
And then eight minutes pass and I realise I posted to my JOURNAL and not the community.
*fails. at. life.*
And now I am supposed to be cleaning my room *doesn't* or wrapping presents *droops* and in reality? Am going to go nap for a while. Or maybe make coffee and try and do internety business.
Anyway, for the reference of, well, anyone who cares: I'm house-and-dog-sitting on the other side of town from this evening until the 7th of January, which means I don't know how 'around' I will be, as the internet situation is not entirely clear, so depending on if I can steal wireless/find a dialup connection to make (which, uh, could be difficult as I broke and/or lost the dialup cable for the laptop last year) I may only be stopping by the house to collect email/etc most days. So, basically: I will see people as and when I can, hopefully. Mostly my plans involve a firm desire to spend all of tomorrow in my pajamas patting the dog and watching SG1. Also, I'm on my own entirely at work for the next two weeks (MEEP) so I'll possibly be working late, and/or freaking out at intervals. This may or may not manifest as flaily LJ posts.
ANYWAY. Love to all, and if I don't get a chance to say this later: Merry Christmas, one and all, and Happy Hannukah and Yule and belated Solstice and, well, every other seasonal holiday or un-holiday as and where appropriate to you all. *smooches all around, except where prohibited by a) law or b) existence of partners who would frown upon it*
In other news,
Does anyone else sort of consistently check other people's away messages, even if you don't usually use that medium to talk to them at all? Just me and _unhurt_, then?
Because we've been having a semi-conversation in away messages and it amuses me greatly and, seriously, I cannot get across just how much it fills me with ♥. Seriously. So many ♥. Even if she DOES apparently want me to write mpreg. *sniffs indignantly* See?
[shihadchick's away message reads:] tired! Feverish! Writing?
[unhurt's away message reads:] not as good an away message as s-chick’s usually are. Feel better soon!
[shihadchick's away message reads:] v. amused by unhurt! Tired! Feverish! Writing?
[unhurt's away message reads:] definitely not as good an away message as s-chick's current one (:sends m-preg: er, i mean :drugs:)
[shihadchick's away message reads:] driving brother to airport. still feverish, but not feverish enough to write mpreg. YET. *snerk*
[unhurt's away message reads:] demands s-chick write m-preg. for great justice!
Oh, and also? Driving back from the airport this afternoon, I had a disturbing familial realisation. So, okay, 1. I love my country. Because my brother got to the airport less than fifteen minutes before his flight was due to leave, with baggage to check as well, but, she'll be right, no worries. And of course, that was exactly the case. (Got a text from him when I was halfway home confirming it was okay, and I think he's about to leave Napier again now?) and 2. He's gone to Napier. To buy a new car. Because his other one got written off earlier in the month through no fault of his own. And I was just thinking about that and being indignant on his behalf once more, because the poor guy has had the worst luck with cars in the last three years, and then I realised: it's like he's RAY VECCHIO and the stupid Galant is the kiwi boy racer equivalent of the Riv. And then by extension that makes me Francesca. *headdesks. while giggling.* (This metaphor can actually be extended further but I choose not to dwell on that.)