I am not a penis thief. I've been authorized to use each and every one I've ... well, let's just leave it at that.

In other news, my flight home to visit the 'rents was cancelled. Will give it another shot tomorrow. BAH.
Pulsing walnut.

That is all.
digital_opium: (Rawr!)
( Nov. 21st, 2007 03:26 am)

Why is it that I start reading a fic, and even though I *know* by the third or fourth paragraph it's going to be a train-wreck, I keep on reading, to the bitter end? Is this some weird sado-masochistic thing? Can I have shots to cure it? A slap on the wrist? Something?

Why am I still reading this?

I have 15 emails in my spam folder from people who want to make my penis larger. And one email in my spam folder from someone who wants to sell me famous label purses for pennies on the dollar.

Because what I really need is a new handbag to go with my larger penis.
I found...

a snake

in my bathroom.

What the fuck, Gus. What the fuck.
Oh my god, there's a psychotic bird outside my window.

It just keeps chirping one note over and over and over, until it almost sounds like something tapping right outside.

I want to kill it now. I need a feline rocket launcher. I need to shoot cats at this bird.

I've had 3 hours of sleep. Must. Kill. Bird. Neverfuckingmore.
Oh, A&E, how can you possibly sink so low?

Rouchambeau championships?

No, seriously... Rock, paper, scissors championships?

... I can't even tell if this is supposed to be a mockumentary or not.

It's either brilliantly funny, or pathetically sad. I can't tell!
digital_opium: (A Tragic Tale)
( Apr. 20th, 2006 12:40 pm)

And I still need to finish brushing a dog and sweep the floors and clean off the stairs and...

I owe someone a comment... and...

Dae is going to be later than she thought, so I have a minor reprieve and will likely get all of this done...

But cylons! I can't tear myself away! I <3 bad 70's hair and "futuristic" fashions and BY YOUR COMMAND!

... if I'm sweeping the floors after, I can brush the dogs in the living room, right? RIGHT!

This article just makes me... meh.

I hate the idea that the government can request this type of information. This doesn't happen in other countries, does it? Why is it happening here? Aren't we all freedom of speech? Can we amend the constitution to include freedom of google? Please? Anybody?

Full article under the cut for those who aren't registered with nytimes.com... )
digital_opium: (WTF?)
( Jan. 25th, 2006 03:02 pm)
Good morning, class.

I woke up and apparently that was the wrong thing to do, since all manner of weird crap has happened since then.

First off, I stumbled to the bathroom, because that's what you do first thing upon waking. Even before taking the dogs outside (which isn't the case if you have a puppy. Puppies go outside before anything. Important safety tip).

The bathroom door is closed, the stopper is plugging the sink and the toilet lid is closed. Those of you living with men know that at least one of those things never happens when a man is in the house.

So I popped my head into Alan's office, though I didn't say anything because he was on the phone at the time. What I would have said was "WTF..." since at some point between him waking up, and me waking up, he'd rearranged his office. Okay, fine. Something scary is going on, but I didn't ask.

Instead, I went to clean the kitchen. Since I have to let the dogs out anyway, and there's no tv or radio or people talking in the kitchen, this is the perfect 'first thing in the morning' activity. I can't stand chatter and noise when I first wake up. It's like fingernails on the chalkboard. Anyhow. Clean the kitchen, get all the trash together so Alan can take it to the dump.

Alan is off the phone, comes into the kitchen, grabs a coffee cup and fills it with water, and walks back toward his office. Now I'm insanely curious, so I follow.

"Do I want to know?" I ask warily.

"Probably not." He replies.

Which, of course, means I definitely want to know.

"Then you better tell me." Which makes perfect sense in Cassie's world.

"I've decided to practice Feng Shui. My desk now faces east. I need water in a glass vessel in the center of my work space. The bathroom door has to stay closed, and the toilet seat and the sink have to be covered."

"I see. If this works, are we headed toward voodoo? I just need to know." I'm actually semi-serious about this.

"Nope. No voodoo." And I'm certainly hoping he's at least semi-serious, as well.

"Okay. Because if I wake up some morning and there's chanting and sheep's entrails hanging from the walls, we're going to have to have a talk." I'm definitely serious about that.

"Nope, no chanting, no sheep's guts."


We're just going to leave it at that, and see what happens.


How's everyone this bright and shiny Wednesday afternoon?
digital_opium: (WTF?)
( Jan. 12th, 2006 03:26 pm)


As if I don't have enough guilt in my life, we're going to make it EASIER for people to guilt me?!

Fuck you LJ!


ETA: Ow I hurt myself ranting. :(


digital_opium: (Default)


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