In which I am utterly inane
I'm supposed to be working right now. I have days of studying left to do for finals and the SAT, and I'm trying to write an essay on Tolkien that could get me to England for two weeks this summer.
Instead, I'm downloading bad remixes of Discotheque, doing an even worse impression of a Bonofalsetto and really wanting someone to write me some crack fiction. Preferably involving the previously-mentioned song in some way.
WELCOME TO THE STORY OF MY LIFE. *falls over*
(...I also realized tonight that my love for U2 knows absolutely no freaking bounds. This is evidenced by the fact that I, the girl who loathes early rising with a deep, undying passion, will be waking up at 5:45 Monday morning (on a day when I don't have school! And could be sleeping in!) to hear the new single played for the first time at 6:00 am on the local rock station. Clearly, I have gone insane. But I'm enjoying every second of it.)
Instead, I'm downloading bad remixes of Discotheque, doing an even worse impression of a Bonofalsetto and really wanting someone to write me some crack fiction. Preferably involving the previously-mentioned song in some way.
WELCOME TO THE STORY OF MY LIFE. *falls over*
(...I also realized tonight that my love for U2 knows absolutely no freaking bounds. This is evidenced by the fact that I, the girl who loathes early rising with a deep, undying passion, will be waking up at 5:45 Monday morning (on a day when I don't have school! And could be sleeping in!) to hear the new single played for the first time at 6:00 am on the local rock station. Clearly, I have gone insane. But I'm enjoying every second of it.)