(no subject)
Woo, haven't slept since whenever I woke up yesterday. I'm still in that zone where I'm not really tired, just wierd feelin', but I have a feeling it will all crashing down on me like the alliance on Serenety Valley at some point and I'll be totally unconcious. Right now, though, I just feel oddly lucid, if a bit too overfull in the brain. I have the underpants gnome song stuck in my head. This is probably not a good thing.
I finally finished Game of Thrones, and just have this to say: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, GEORGE R. R. MARTIN? I mean, dub tee eff? I don't have the next book on hand, so I can't find out WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ARYA UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON IT! I mean, shitting assing mother fucking Christ, what kind of sadistic butt monkey does this to people?
On a lighter note, I've finally found a series that has characters good enough for me to actually care about them. It's called Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martain. You should pick it up, if you enjoy political intrigue and/or high fantasy. Or awsome kick-ass nine year old girls. Which the book isn't about, but one of the characters is awsome and kick-ass, and she happens to be of the female persuasion, and her years number close to nine.
Candy is delicious.
There he stood, before the legions of the damned, alone except for his two companions. The sky was darkened by the smoke and soot eminating from the cursed ground, and not even the rays of the full moon reached through the clouds. It was there, though. He smiled at the hopelessness of the situation, but also at the knowledge of what was beyond the smoky wall, the knowledge of the eternal vigil of the moon and stars. "What say you, friends," he spoke, "shall we thumb our noses at death one last time?" He heafted his sword and laughed aloud, even as the rhythmic march of the damned turned his stomach, the proximity of the loathsome creatures offending his body. He held is ancient blade at the ready and prepared to defend himself.
I finally finished Game of Thrones, and just have this to say: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, GEORGE R. R. MARTIN? I mean, dub tee eff? I don't have the next book on hand, so I can't find out WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ARYA UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON IT! I mean, shitting assing mother fucking Christ, what kind of sadistic butt monkey does this to people?
On a lighter note, I've finally found a series that has characters good enough for me to actually care about them. It's called Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martain. You should pick it up, if you enjoy political intrigue and/or high fantasy. Or awsome kick-ass nine year old girls. Which the book isn't about, but one of the characters is awsome and kick-ass, and she happens to be of the female persuasion, and her years number close to nine.
Candy is delicious.
There he stood, before the legions of the damned, alone except for his two companions. The sky was darkened by the smoke and soot eminating from the cursed ground, and not even the rays of the full moon reached through the clouds. It was there, though. He smiled at the hopelessness of the situation, but also at the knowledge of what was beyond the smoky wall, the knowledge of the eternal vigil of the moon and stars. "What say you, friends," he spoke, "shall we thumb our noses at death one last time?" He heafted his sword and laughed aloud, even as the rhythmic march of the damned turned his stomach, the proximity of the loathsome creatures offending his body. He held is ancient blade at the ready and prepared to defend himself.