hey guys, how is everyone? sorry i've been slacking so hard lately! i'm still sick and in other fun news, i sprained a toe last week. a fucking toe. *rolls eyes forever* what makes it even more lame is i did it tripping over a BAG. it'd be comedic as fuck if it didn't hurt like a bitch. actually, it's still pretty funny.
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Cause it's so much better to howl like a dog…--lol! i know, right?!
I think so.--i'm fairly certain it is, i just can't remember which book.
Indeed! I see two broken legs in Jessi's future if she had accepted.--YUP!!
*insert Buffy drinking gif here*--LOL!
lol, I can relate! It was especially bad on youtube before they got rid of the 500 character word limit.--500 characters is madness. i can't remember how much it is on twitter since i never use it, but wasn't it something like 40 characters or some shit? that's as bad as the text message character limit!
Enjoyed the snark! :)--yay! i'm so glad!
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YAY!!! i'm glad i made you both laugh! :D-You really did!
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I had to Google the store, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, and one of the first things that pops up is that the store has a dress code. This makes me want to say two things: One, isn’t flying around Europe expensive enough without buying anything in a store so ‘special’ (snobby) that you can’t walk in wearing your own clothes (and another Google search tells me sweatshirts are about $50 and lamps are about $400 there, so my impression seems right), and Two, if Stacey’s situation is so desperate that she NEEDS to buy ANY new clothes, why not go to a store with reasonable prices (especially since she’ll probably get her suitcase back ( ... )
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- We looked into the rooms . . . papers were piled on the desks and maps still hung on the walls, covered with little flag markers, as if the war leaders had just stepped out for tea and were about to return. -
I got chills just reading that. I can’t imagine how it would feel in person.
- . . . and I thought about those ashes again . . . I wanted to give them to Mr. Anderson myself.Well, personally I’d want the little brat to give me back my whole suitcase with the ashes safely inside it, mostly for the illusion that she hadn’t been going through my underwear or staring at said ashes. Not to ( ... )
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I could see Janine and Claudia now, racing toward me.
“Help me!” I shouted.
“Stop!” Mathew yelled. -
This bothers me, because one sitter should be more than enough to deal with one little brat. And instead of calling for reinforcements, Mary Anne should squeeze the kid a little harder, remind him that he’s just a kid, and that he has to listen to those in charge (he didn’t listen to his own counsellor, so he can’t whine now that Mary Anne’s not his), and maybe threaten to tell his mother he’s too disobedient to be away from her. Or at least tell him that lightning is deadly. Anything other than essentially proving that she can’t handle a six-year-old.
- ‘Besides, Mr. Brailsford has assured me the spot would be open if I ever wanted to return. I planned to take him up on it someday.’ Of course he did. Funny how even though she said ‘no’, she still has an automatic ‘in’ if she ever changes her mind. That only ever happens to BSC members. -
No, no, NO, NO - just no. I don’t know how ( ... )
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