so this is (very probably) it. i'm stopping with the thinly disguised narcissism, the slightly better disguised bragging and the not-at-all disguised bitchery. here's the thing: it's just not fun anymore. not for me, at any rate.
so, um. goodbye.
Monday, January 17 1:11 am
party hearty
so quite the number of people have been asking how the yacht party went, a demand which, with a dramatically reluctant sigh, i have agreed to meet. and if any one of you dares to protest that i unsubtly induced the queries by going, "ask me how the yacht party went!" i will cut you.
yes, anyway. in a word? awesome. (oh you saw that coming.) in two? pukey partygoers.
things weren't looking too good at the start, what with us being shunted on and off and on the boat. but there were way fewer models than expected (they were "busy", apparently, though i strongly suspect they were the few intelligent enough to know that absolutely no one can continue looking fabulous while clutching her head and retching), a minor blessing in more ways than one - Dateboy and i had our own self-proclaimed stalkers - a gaggle of shutter-happy girls who were following us wherever we went. okay, isn't language beautiful? by leaving out the important bits, namely that
1) DB and i were clever enough to move to the only uncrowded spots on the boat each time, and were eventually bound to be followed by people also in need of air, and
2) the shutter-happy girls were kinda not snapping shots of us, only themselves,
it almost sounds like we really had fans! just shut it and nod, alright?
the first hour or so was pretty much spent enjoying the view. of course, the view to DB meant unfortunate shots of the esplanade.
there was another angle wherein another altogether... shorter building was framed, but DB got strangely touchy when i pointed it out, so i left it at that.
much gratitude to DB, He of the Occasional Actual Useful Talent (Who Knew?), who took most of these while i was busy teeter-tottering around in heels trying to regain my balance.
much hilarity was also provided by the aforementioned DB, who was in nastily fine form indeed. comments that won't get me tried in a court of political correctness include:
Mine Host: you guys alright? C's thrown up three times already.
[Pleasantries and reassurances of our well-being ensue. Mine Host leaves to mingle.]
[DB and I snigger unapologetically.]
DB: looks like we've got our own merlion.
(we'd just gone past the merlion outside one fullerton.)
(and yes, that's really close to where we'd set off from. three times, C?)
Me: [stifling laughter] oh, don't make fun.
DB: no, really. we should strap her to the front like a figurehead. that way when other ships go by, they'll look at us and go, "oh, that ship's from singapore!"
we docked at some tiny non-island (DB: "it's an islet.") whose flags declared it to be (part of) sentosa island. we were then briefly distracted by the jaw-droppingly prolonged yet substance-free argument between a few girls on what island it was ("is that kusu island?" "no lah, i think it's sisters island" "eh, i thought i saw 'sentosa'!" "but what about kusu?" ad infinitum) but shook ourselves out of that dark abyss where intelligence goes to die when dinner was served. eating at the bow, with the wind and stars in a wonderfully clear sky, it was easy to believe that perfection was humanly attainable. that is, if you could ignore the remixed britney blasting from the speakers. joke dedications, har har har.
the dj cut loose later on though, and more tolerable dance crap was pumped out. despite Mine Host's exhortations and threats in order to get us to dance inside where the smoke machine and disco lights were, the only dancing that went on (little as it may be) was out where we were. and while i'd love for you to believe that that happened because of our stunning star presence, the truth is that the outside's the only place with rails to hold on to.
Mine Host: my sadness at your carrying out the threat to cut off all photo opportunities with you if we didn't go in to dance was much tempered by that fuckin' awesome demonstration you put on to show us how, exactly, we still could dance inside by holding on to the sofa.
Everyone else: think "camel-butt".
aaaanyhow. we eschewed the after-party for a midnight screening of kinsey, about which i'd love to tell you more, but i'm due downstairs for supper way sooner than expected because the newly licensed Prom Prince drove at 130 all the way here. a few hurried last words: i'm gonna drive stick for the first time in like, forever! that was not at all a euphemism for something else, however accurate it may be! watch kinsey, it's a fantastic show!
eta: (yes, Flea, i do hate soft spots. thankfully this particular one has become nothing so much as a great big callus.)
so i got the thing below from a blog i stumbled onto (and hmm, i think i've actually spoken to this person before, back in the days of mIRC and ICQ) whilst well into my third day of Major Insomniage.
by the by, my entire wellbeing is now dependent on there not being anything in the path of the near-straight line i walk to get to school (insofar as the distance from the bike parking lots to the LT can be considered walking to get to school), because what with the lack of sleep and all, my reaction time to things appearing suddenly in my path (like people, and sometimes... walls) has been considerably lengthened. as it is, i have to stop at any point which requires a directional change to think for a bit before moving off. occasionally, in the wrong direction. yeah, i really shouldn't be allowed on the roads, ever.
anyway.
On her radio show recently, Dr. Laura Schlesinger said that homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22, and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following response is an open letter to Dr. Laura which was posted on the Internet.
Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Law and how to follow them.
1. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2. The passage clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev.19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with People who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.
Your adoring fan,
James M. Kauffman, Ed.D.
Professor Emeritus
University of Virginia
ah, and i can't remember where i got this link from, but here's an article from the guardian as well.
'We have to protect people'
President Bush wants 'pro-homosexual' drama banned. Gary Taylor meets the politician in charge of making it happen.
Thursday December 9, 2004
What should we do with US classics like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or The Color Purple? "Dig a hole," Gerald Allen recommends, "and dump them in it." Don't laugh. Gerald Allen's book-burying opinions are not a joke.
Earlier this week, Allen got a call from Washington. He will be meeting with President Bush on Monday. I asked him if this was his first invitation to the White House. "Oh no," he laughs. "It's my fifth meeting with Mr Bush."
Bush is interested in Allen's opinions because Allen is an elected Republican representative in the Alabama state legislature. He is Bush's base. Last week, Bush's base introduced a bill that would ban the use of state funds to purchase any books or other materials that "promote homosexuality". Allen does not want taxpayers' money to support "positive depictions of homosexuality as an alternative lifestyle". That's why Tennessee Williams and Alice Walker have got to go.
I ask Allen what prompted this bill. Was one of his children exposed to something in school that he considered inappropriate? Did he see some flamingly gay book displayed prominently at the public library?
No, nothing like that. "It was election day," he explains. Last month, "14 states passed referendums defining marriage as a relationship between a man and a woman". Exit polls asked people what they considered the most important issue, and "moral values in this country" were "the top of the list".
"Traditional family values are under attack," Allen informs me. They've been under attack "for the last 40 years". The enemy, this time, is not al-Qaida. The axis of evil is "Hollywood, the music industry". We have an obligation to "save society from moral destruction". We have to prevent liberal libarians and trendy teachers from "re-engineering society's fabric in the minds of our children". We have to "protect Alabamians".
I ask him, again, for specific examples. Although heterosexuals are apparently an endangered species in Alabama, and although Allen is a local politician who lives a couple miles from my house, he can't produce any local examples. "Go on the internet," he recommends. "Some time when you've got a week to spare," he jokes, "just go on the internet. You'll see."
Actually, I go on the internet every day. But I'm obviously searching for different things. For Allen, the web is just the largest repository in history of urban myths. The internet is even better than the Bible when it comes to spreading unverifiable, unrefutable stories. And urban myths are political realities. Remember, it was an urban myth (an invented court case about a sex education teacher gang-raped by her own students who, when she protested, laughed and said: "But we're just doing what you taught us!") that all but killed sex education in America.
Since Allen couldn't give me a single example of the homosexual equivalent of 9/11, I gave him some. This autumn the University of Alabama theatre department put on an energetic revival of A Chorus Line, which includes, besides "tits and ass", a prominent gay solo number. Would Allen's bill prevent university students from performing A Chorus Line? It isn't that he's against the theatre, Allen explains. "But why can't you do something else?" (They have done other things, of course. But I didn't think it would be a good idea to mention their sold-out productions of Angels in America and The Rocky Horror Show.)
Cutting off funds to theatre departments that put on A Chorus Line or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof may look like censorship, and smell like censorship, but "it's not censorship", Allen hastens to explain. "For instance, there's a reason for stop lights. You're driving a vehicle, you see that stop light, and I hope you stop." Who can argue with something as reasonable as stop lights? Of course, if you're gay, this particular traffic light never changes to green.
It would not be the first time Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ran into censorship. As Nicholas de Jongh documents in his amusingly appalling history of government regulation of the British theatre, the British establishment was no more enthusiastic, half a century ago, than Alabama's Allen. "Once again Mr Williams vomits up the recurring theme of his not too subconscious," the Lord Chamberlain's Chief Examiner wrote in 1955. In the end, it was first performed in London at the New Watergate Club, for "members only", thereby slipping through a loophole in the censorship laws.
But more than one gay playwright is at a stake here. Allen claims he is acting to "encourage and protect our culture". Does "our culture" include Shakespeare? I ask Allen if he would insist that copies of Shakespeare's sonnets be removed from all public libraries. I point out to him that Romeo and Juliet was originally performed by an all-male cast, and that in Shakespeare's lifetime actors and audiences at the public theatres were all accused of being "sodomites". When Romeo wished he "was a glove upon that hand", the cheek that he fantasised about kissing was a male cheek. Next March the Alabama Shakespeare festival will be performing a new production of As You Like It, and its famous scene of a man wooing another man. The Alabama Shakespeare Festival is also the State Theatre of Alabama. Would Allen's bill cut off state funding for Shakespeare?
"Well," he begins, after a pause, "the current draft of the bill does not address how that is going to be handled. I expect details like that to be worked out at the committee stage. Literature like Shakespeare and Hammet [sic] could be left alone." Could be. Not "would be". In any case, he says, "you could tone it down". That way, if you're not paying real close attention, even a college graduate like Allen himself "could easily miss" what was going on, the "subtle" innuendoes and all.
So he regards his gay book ban as a work in progress. His legislation is "a single spoke in the wheel, it doesn't resolve all the issues". This is just the beginning. "To turn a big ship around it takes a lot of time."
But make no mistake, the ship is turning. You can see that on the face of Cornelius Carter, a professor of dance at Alabama and a prize-winning choreographer who, not long ago, was named university teacher of the year for the entire US. Carter is black. He is also gay, and tired of fighting these battles. "I don't know," he says, "if I belong here any more."
Forty years ago, the American defenders of "our culture" and "traditional values" were opposing racial integration. Now, no politician would dare attack Cornelius Carter for being black. But it's perfectly acceptable to discriminate against people for what they do in bed.
"Dig a hole," Gerald Allen recommends, "and dump them in it."
Of course, Allen was talking about books. He was just talking about books. He never said anything about pink triangles.
And here's one from the brilliant, brilliant dahlia lithwick, with all the substantiating links omitted, unfortunately, because developing insomnia doesn't mean you suddenly become not-lazy.
Holy Matrimony What's really undermining the sanctity of marriage?
By Dahlia Lithwick
Within nanoseconds of the Massachusetts Supreme Court's declaration that gay marriage is protected by the Constitution came predictions of the end of life as we know it: The president, speaking from London, warned: "Marriage is a sacred institution between a man and a woman. Today's decision of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court violates this important principle."
"The time is now. If you don't do something about this, then you cannot in 20 years-when you see the American public disintegrating and you see our enemies overtaking us because we have no moral will-you remember that you did nothing," said Sandy Rios, president of the Concerned Women for America, to her 1 million radio listeners. "We must amend the Constitution if we are to stop a tyrannical judiciary from redefining marriage to the point of extinction," Focus on the Family urged in a statement on Tuesday.
Extinction, no less. The institution of marriage-the one that survived Henry VIII, Lorena Bobbitt, Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson-is suddenly going to become extinct?
Do you want to know what's destroying the sanctity of marriage? Phone messages like the ones we'd get at my old divorce firm in Reno, Nev., left on Saturday mornings and picked up on Monday: "Beeep. Hi? My name is Misty and I think I maybe got married last night. Could someone call me back and tell me if I could get an annulment? I'm at Circus Circus? Room-honey what room is this-oh yeah. Room 407. Thank you. Beeep."
It just doesn't get much more sacred than that.
Here's my modest request: If you're going to be a crusader for the sanctity of marriage-if you really believe gay marriage will have some vast corrosive, viral impact on marriage as a whole-here's a brief list of other laws and policies far more dangerous to the institution. Go after these first, then pass your constitutional amendment.
1. Divorce Somewhere between 43 percent and 50 percent of marriages end in divorce. If you believe gay marriage is single-handedly eroding a sacred and ancient institution, you cannot possibly be pro-divorce. That means any legislation passed in recent decades making divorce more readily available-from no-fault statutes to the decline of adultery prosecutions-should also be subject to bans, popular referendum, and constitutional amendment.
2. Circus Circus In general, if there is blood in your body and you are over 18, you can get married, so long as you're not in love with your cousin. (Although even that's OK in some states). You can be married to someone you met at the breakfast buffet. Knowing her last name is optional. And you can be married by someone who was McOrdained on the Internet. So before you lobby to ban gay marriage, you might want to work to enact laws limiting the sheer frivolousness of straight marriage. You should be lobbying for an increase in minimum-age requirements, for mandatory counseling pre-marriage, and for statutory waiting periods before marriages (and divorces) can be permitted.
3. Birth Control The dissenters in the Massachusetts decision are of the opinion that the only purpose of marriage is procreation. They urge that a sound reason for discriminating against gay couples is that there is a legitimate state purpose in ensuring, promoting, and supporting an "optimal social structure for the bearing and raising of children." If you're going to take the position that marriage exists solely to encourage begetting, you need to oppose childlessness by choice, birth control, living together, and marriage for the post-menopausal. In fact, if you're really looking for "optimal" social structures for childrearing, you need to legislate against single parents, poor parents, two-career parents, alcoholic or sick parents, and parents who (like myself) are afraid of the Baby Einstein videos.
4. Misc. Here's what's really undermining the sacredness of modern marriage: soap operas, wedding planning, longer work days, cuter secretaries, fights over money, reality TV, low-rise pants, mothers-in-law, boredom, Victoria's Secret catalogs, going to bed mad, the billable hour, that stubborn 7 pounds, the Wiggles, Internet chat rooms, and selfishness. In fact we should start amending the Constitution to deal with the Wiggles immediately.
Here's why marriage will likely survive last week's crushing decision out of Massachusetts: Because despite all the horrors of Section 4, above, human beings want and deserve a soul mate; someone to grow old with, someone who thinks our dopey entry in the New Yorker cartoon competition is hilarious, and someone to help carry the shopping bags. Gay couples have asked the state to explain why such privileges should be denied them and have yet to receive an answer that is credible.
The decision to make a marriage "sacred" does not belong to the state-if the state were in charge of mandating sacredness in matrimony, we'd have to pave over both Nevada and Jessica Simpson. We make marriage sacred by choosing to treat it that way, one couple at a time. We make marriage a joke by treating it like a two-week jungle safari. There is no evidence that gay couples are any more inclined toward that latter course than supermodels, rock stars, or that poor spineless bald man on Who Wants to Marry My Dad? There's good evidence that most of them will take the commitment very seriously, as do the rest of us. There will be more "sanctity" in marriage when we recognize that people of all orientations can make sacred choices. Good for Massachusetts for recognizing that truth.
seriously, sometimes i feel like writing on this - a subject i feel most strongly about, and still cannot fathom why people still attempt to justify the opposing view with logic, ye gads - but really, it's all been said before, and said much, much better. and i know i mentioned a coupla times before that i'd only ever write about frivolous crap and, generally, incredibly narcissistic non-issues, but really, it had to be said (though kinda not by me).
in what is possibly the best news i've received this year, desperate housewives is coming to channel 5! 24th january, do yourselves a favour and tune in. just keep your cotton pickin' hands offa bree, because she is incredible, hot, and mine. oh bree, dump that shiftless bum of a husband and set up a perfect, immaculate home with me.
and, delving briefly into the slightly disturbing realm of People Who Speak To Television Characters, i really have to say, rex, you sad, tearful ejacu - uh, "clown", why do you persist in being such a dumbass? learn it! you do not. piss. bree. off. she will end you. ohhh, bree! marry me! that's such a beautiful thought, it even rhymes! i love it when i get to rhyme!
not so cryptic shit. jury's still out on the annoying.
school is in a very, very short while indeed and i'm still here. in a state comparable to infant children with a winnie the pooh bottle's worth of kopitiam coffee in 'em (not that i've ever, y'know, tried that for real or anything). this can't be good.
major frettage has been going on, what with this being the year of 21 and all. a frightening number of people i know seem to be throwing big parties, and a pant-wetting proportion of those seem to be falling in the upcoming week. that's three birthday parties i have next week alone, folks, a situation which prompted a fiery rhetoric along the lines of "couldn't the older generation have kept it in their pants a few months more? like, until i find a job, or better yet, some money?"
and if you thought i wasn't already deep enough in the poopie? one of these parties is going to be pretty major league. think on a yacht, and while you're there, think dress code, and then, just for kicks, think really hot people will be present. okay, i know all that thinking's probably giving you a headache, so let me go ahead and just give you the rest of the news:
the party has a friggin' theme.
the invitation came with directions, in case anyone didn't get the theme, to the gucci website.
the gucci website has a cruise section, who knew? (that wasn't part of the news)
i have a history with the person throwing the party.
and the person throwing the party has a twin.
aaand since i'm also pretty sure that some of you still don't really get it, i'm going to go ahead again and tell you what all that news means. it means that
not only am i screwed, many times over (quadruple-y, at last count with The PBB) on the cost of the gift,
i'm also going to have to worry about what to wear (gucci website, people!),
and how i'm going to look (really hot friends, people!).
the worry's mostly because there is nothing like being stuck for 4 hours on a boat with a bar to bring out the eagle-eyed competitive bitch in some. and also because, hell, i've met a couple of the host's friends before, and their hotness is matched only by their unceasing nastiness.
anyway. as if this relentless trial of a party wasn't stressful enough, i'm expected to bring a date. and what with all the Bad Shit that's been going down of late, i am, well, quite dateless. and reminded, most cheerily, by FY that my date really needs to be "fuckin' hot" to pass muster on this boatload of bitches.
i know, i know, why not simply not go, right? well, other than the fact that it's poor form to RSVP and then cancel out? other than the fact that it's a party on a yacht? well it's because... okay, i'm going to go with the "it's a party on a yacht" thing.
oh, oh, yeah, and the whole host/history reason! i love it when i get to come off non-superficial.
right. so the secret point of this entry is that i'm subtly fishing around for hot dates for the party. although, not so much with the secrecy or subtlety now i've actually... said it out. huh.
alright, so i was debating whether or not to write this, because it's most likely going to be terminally boring to everyone who is... well, not me, or not playing drinking games and taking tequila shots whenever i say i'm not resentful but follow it up with passive-aggressive bitchery, aaaand not to mention going to come out rather nasty and bitter sounding and run-on sentence causing, but ANYHOW, as it turns out, i'm just about grumpy enough to do it, so yay.
okay, i mentally said that in like, one big (and, i suspect, incoherent) brain-breath, so i'll need a short paragraph to wheeze a bit.
so as life would have it, in the order of all things social, i usually end up in the planning/suggestion-giving row. which, don't get me wrong, isn't someplace i majorly resent or dislike being. most of the time it's either no trouble at all, or pretty fun work. and most most of the time, no one else wants to step out of his or her lazybed to do anything constructive anyway (DRINK!).
but really, some people ought to be shot dead where they stand and have their stories whispered in the dead of night by parents all over the world to ungrateful children because the fear of petrina will be struck in young hearts everywhere if any more of this crap transpires.
good heavens above, you people should know better by now. and if you think this is coming out condescending and snobbish, well, a great big fuck you to you too. because really, really, really - arriving late, en masse, for a dinner reservation? last minute cancellations? not knowing how to behave at a restaurant? is extremely poor form. in a place which knows my face. with a reservation under my fucking name.
but you know, all that's fine, really - i've usually let the annoyance go by the first course (DRINK!). plus, i am assured, this happens at group gatherings everywhere. but what will indubitably cause the excrement to hit the fan is telling me that my admittedly hyperbolic complaints about having to plan everything are unjustified. because, no doubt, of that one gathering so-and-so had a weak hand in planning! or, hmm, let's see, criticizing my choice in shows, or saying that a particular party game suggestion is "stupid". say it with me: fuck. you.
if what i do really is all that bad, then let's see you step up to the plate once in a while to handle all the things everyone seems to think are so simple. like finding a date everyone agrees on, or buying supplies, or trying to restrain yourself from screaming that it's really easy to find the information out on your own if you'd just get off your massive backside and haul it to an agent instead of relying on me to do everything for you. like ensuring that check-in goes well, or arranging who-brings-what to the potluck, or being the go-to girl for suggestions on parties, trips, or birthday gifts. like dealing with late cancellations, or collecting frikkin' money, or double checking details like customs' restrictions just so everything's right. like gladhandling pissy employees, or lending out discs which come back, if at all, with unmentionable stains, or digging deep and coming up with, hmm, what was that quaint little descriptive again? oh yes. "stupid" ideas.
and oh, all the while fielding endless questions along the line of, "when are we going to genting / have that dinner / throw the party / brazil churrascaria / dance on your poor, dead, exhausted but still unquestionably hot body?"
here's the thing: everyone's right. they aren't that difficult to do. but - and this is the important bit - these things add up. and i don't ask for help unless i really need it, though it would be nice (DRINK!) if someone offered, or, in the alternative, said thank you. but what pisses me the hell off is how people do neither of these things, and have the sheer, unmitigated gall to criticize my ideas or imply that i have no real reason to complain on the rare occasions that i do.
well, alright, i know i'm making it sound like all this happens a lot. in all honesty, though, only once have i complained about having to plan, and only once have i received the "you don't do much," reaction. and that's what's really pissing me off. the rest of it really only became an issue in the period of severe anger and hypersensitivity following in the wake of that remark. so it's really not as bad as all that. hell, it's nice being the go-to girl for something. doubly nice because it's for something cool, as opposed to, say, being the go-to girl for reliable deodorant brands. plus, i have to say, i'm not as much of a martyr as this post makes me sound.
and FYI, i think i dissed quite a wide range of people in the above, so if you think some of what i wrote sounds like something you've done... you're probably right.
Monday, January 3 5:24 pm
it's just like i suspected
so heaven is johnny depp and a chocolate waterfall
to everyone else who was there that night yet not up here: i couldn't fit the long shots of all of us into a square, so i went with a flattering picture of me. and don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same. oh rae, if you're reading this, ignore the above - it's because i like you best. really.
my christmas gift from the wonderful Snookums. and in keeping with my disturbing tendency to want to have relations with inanimate objects, i think i want to marry this one and bear its little pink children.
