I should be asleep. If I were smart, I would be sleeping... but I'm clearly not. I am dying to write; like, in the worst way. About anything and everything. I feel like I haven't updated anyone on my life in eight-billion years, and even if no one reads it, hell, that doesn't stop me wanting to write about it (I'm interesting to me, yo - well,
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Oh! And now I know what to get you for the holidays. *grin* You will give me your address, right? I promise I can afford it, and to ship it to you, and that it's something you should find useful, and that should get through customs without any trouble. Mentioning addresses, did I ever get you mine? >.> I can't remember ( ... )
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