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This song is seriously why computers get thrown out of windows ( Which doesn't explain why I'm listening to it. Or why I'm listening to the versions in other languages. I'm having serious Hamsterdance flashbacks here. Also, I would like to blame the French for this, but I'm entirely too lazy to look up who is to blame for this.

Right, second day's attempt to write 750 words. I need to have something productive to do while I'm dogsitting, so this clearly has to go somewhere.

Ruy and I were discussing what we'd tell someone from 1997, if they called for, say their platform shoes back (it originated with the xkcd comic about 2007 calling for their wolf shirt back, and the person wearing said shirt going "Did you tell them about Japan? Haiti?" and so on). Then we had a lot of trouble coming up with anything that happened that wasn't within the last 5 years. I mean, other than 9/11. "Um, you don't need to worry about Y2K, it all turns out alright"? "Don't go to Iraq, it was all a big mistake"? Then Ruy couldn't remember when the first Gulf War was (1991). I'm still having a moment of, "Wait a minute, there was a second one?"

Someone who could only have been the 10th Doctor was wandering around at the Broadway Canada Line station, looking lost. This man looked seriously out of his own dimension. Very dapper and such, just, you know, a little bit out of his own time. He probably lost his TARDIS.

I'm tempted to look at writing prompts to see if I can make this post go anywhere.

I've just hit March 13th in Google Reader, so, as you can see, I am *totally* up to speed on my news. This reminds me a little of when Michael Jackson died, and I knew about it pretty much as it was happening because I was refreshing BBC and CNN like a crazy woman, but then, 5 weeks later, had to go through my RSS feeds to find that he'd died. Again. Well, not again again, but the first time.

Not only is Bryan Adams 51 (Whaaaa?), but he's having a child with his personal assistant. That seems a little, oh, what is the word. Not shady, not sketchy, not weird... Promiscuous? No, not that either. Well, I can't think of the word, but I will probably just put quotation marks around "personal" and "assistant." That will make me feel better. It's like... I don't know, impregnating your secretary? WHAT DOES ONE CALL THAT?

I have this sudden urge to play The Sims, and I can't. Not even LEGALLY. For ACTUAL MONEY. I'm practically *giving* it away. *sigh*

Also, knee hurts. Shards of glass. Par for the course, but makes dog-walking more difficult. Frig on toast.

Did I miss a fortune cookie somewhere that says "This is a good year to have body parts fall off. Also, start a new business."?

I'm going with yes. Speaking of which, I should start a business. On Etsy. Selling scarves. Because I can, and what else can I do while laid up with a stupid fucking leg.

CHARLIE SHEEN, STOP EXISTING! By which I don't mean go die of an overdose or an underdose or whatever it is you're not having/are having; I just mean, go pop out of existence until you can be less of a douchebag. I'm nice, I'll even let you come back!

I really need to stop following the idea of "Oh good, I got to 10000 items from 20000 in Google Reader, it's time to go trawling for more blogs to read." I mean, 1000, maybe, but I think 10000 is a little presumptuous about my ability to actually get through these. And how many blogs do I read for the pictures?

And we found Atlantis in Spain? I can certainly say that that wasn't where I was looking for it. I was still hoping that Pegasus was going to drag it out at some point, and glance at it meaningfully. Because cats can totally do that.

Oh man, am I ever tired of hearing about Lindsay Lohan. I JUST DON'T CARE. I don't care if she stole jewellery, I don't care if she *didn't* steal it, I don't care if she's sleeping with Samantha Ronson again, I don't care about her attention-seeking mother, I don't care if she's still an actress, I don't care if she cares about her career. Of all the things that I could possibly want to hear about for years on end, it isn't Lindsay Lohan. Stop giving her the attention she wants (or doesn't want) and let her just crawl into a hole and do... whatever she's going to do with her life. I sure as hell wouldn't hire her for a movie, and I'm just *that much* more interested in Charlie Sheen.


Wait, Mel Gibson has grandchildren? What the what?

Word Count: 834
Word Count to Date: 36983

February 2012

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