The Battle Of The Conservatory...

There is a mutant fly holed up in the conservatory. It looks like the offspring of a bluebottle and a spider, and is approximately the size of a kitten. I haven't been able to go into the bloody conservatory all day, and wouldn't you just know it, my cigarettes are in there.

I tried to reclaim my fags earlier. The mutant immediately went on the offensive and tried to scalp me. I'm afraid for my life. If I attempt to open the door then the monster makes an immediate beeline for the living room at mach three. So far I've been able to keep the thing from the rest of the house, but I can only go so long without fags.

I am currently wondering how to open up hostage negotiations with a mutant bluebottle. Make no mistake, the fly is holding my cigarettes captive. I can see it through the glass, surveying it's territory from the safety of the coffee table, occasionally scouting the area for any small mammals to digest. I'm half expecting it to spark up one of my fags and lounge on the chair, puffing away with a supreior grin on it's bloodthirsty features to goad me into entering enemy territory.

It must have gotten in through the window, which is only open a crack, and the mutant is the size of my arm from elbow to wrist so the bugger would have had a tight squeeze to get in. Makes me think it had the whole debacle planned. It has an objective, I'm sure, and is just waiting for me to open the door and drop my guard. I've been forced onto the defensive, but my cigarettes are suffering as prisoners of war and I can't leave them behind, there's about fifteen cancer sticks awaiting rescue and my artillery consists of a can of bug spray and a rolled up newspaper. The bug spray will probably do me more harm than the mutant, it looks like it has been genetically engineered to resist all chemical attacks. As for the newspaper, nothing short of a lead pipe would bruise that demon in there, a rolled up newspaper will probably just piss it off and then the cigarettes will be executed before my very eyes before I am eaten for dinner.

I could go to the shop and buy more fags. Only I'm poor, and there's the principle involved. That there is MY conservatory, and those are MY fags, I will not be evicted from my conservatory by a mutant bug, no matter how big and mean looking.

This calls for drastic measures. There's no time to call for backup, so I'm going in solo. But if all hell breaks loose, the mutant had better watch out, I'm bringing in Shino...

Yeah, all the Naruto fans know what I'm talkin' 'bout! Shino would kick mutant bluebottle's freaky ass!

However, Plan A involves shinguards and elbow pads, a parker stuffed with newspaper for extra padding, a cycling helmet, swimming goggles, a pair of marigolds, a frying pan and a hockey stick. Operation "nicotine rescue" commences at seventeen hundred hours. Wish me luck, and if I don't make it, tell my mother that I love her, and to avenge me with bug spray and a fly swatter.

Cleaning Toilets...

I need to find a job. I'm am rapidly running out of funds, pretty soon there'll be nothing keeping me in fags and chocolate and I'll be royally screwed. The only problem is that I'm a lazy bastard and I don't want to have to work. At least I'm honest.

I've been perusing the job centre's website for any interesting job vacancies (perusing, funny word that) and I'd rather poke my eyes out with a fork than be a cleaner. A cleaner, I ask you! I went to uni (for a while) I joined the Army (also for a while) so if the great bastard who calls himself God reckons I'll bend over like a good little bitch and start cleaning shitty toilets then he's in for a big fucking shock.

Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be much more available, I've done the whole barmaid bid and am bored with it, I've been a waitress and I have no desire to work in telesales since I'll end up scalping someone over the phone. I do not do well with pissy customers, if someone's mean to me then I'll be meaner in return. So selling insurance over the phone will not go down well if anyone tries giving me abuse. I'll get the sack after five minutes, I'm not a people person.

I also do not wish to work in a factory since I associate factories with my parents and I'll be damned if I'll allow myself to turn into my mother! But I need some sort of income until I am permitted to go back to shooting people. I am poor. Help me.

Does anyone know of any jobs where all I have to do is sit there and look pretty??? I could do that no bother! Mebbe I could be a nude model in an art class, how much would that pay? I could sell my drawings like the dossers in Paris who mooch around under the Eiffel Tower with their grotty pictures out on display, only where would I hang around in this shitty little town to sell pictures???? Mebbe I'll write a book, but that takes time and I'm poor now goddamnit!

There's always prostitution, but I'm too expensive for any of the mingers around here.

Suppose I'll have to clean toilets after all. Erm... no, I think not. Perhaps I could run away and join the circus, I can use poi, I can be a clown or a ballerina who jigs about on the back of a pony. Does anyone know where I can find a circus???

I should just give in and get an application form for MacDonald's shouldn't I. God life is depressing. I could always rob the nearest bank. My next post will probably be from prison, but they give you food in jail and I won't need to worry about employment. Hmmm... that sounds like a plan.

I wonder how may bitches I could accumulate. Cause heaven knows if anyone tried to make me their bitch They'd be the ones cleaning toilets, with their fucking faces until someone figured out how to pry their heads out of the toilet bowls. And really, freedom isn't all that fantastic, not if your as poor as a church mouse and your ovaries hold you in contempt.

Prison it is then, might as well make a meal of it and commit murder. Lemme see, who do I hate enough to kill??? Aha, Ewan McGregor's wife! I dislike the french anyway.

Don't tell her I'm on my way, I think the element of surpirse would be useful.

Toodles. X

The War Of The Bodily Functions...

I have returned from my incarceration within the disinfected Hell more commonly known as hospital. I spent the weekend in sweet sweet agony, I thought I had appendicitis, turned out to be an infection of one of my ovaries (what the hell are my ovaries playing at?) My family staged a military coup and smuggled me to Southport Hospital in the back of my uncle's car. I was in too much pain to put up much of a fight seeing as the entire tribe crawled out of the woodwork to make sure I was strapped to a hospital bed before dawn.

And when I say I was in pain, let me emphasise: PAAAAIIIIIIN! I actually cried, and I never cry. It wasn't attractive. Real crying is like real sex, if you do it right, it isn't pretty. And believe me, I was doing it right. How pathetic.

I can't stand hospitals, but in their defence, they did give me morphine. Grand stuff is morphine, every household should stock up, I spent the first night in a hazy bliss of giggles and lightheadedness. Of course, I woke up completely sober in ward 14 b, opposite some old bid who kept flashing her aged fanny at me at random intervals, next to a woman pissing into a bag and a girl with some sort of device sewn to her abdomen who kept moaning in pain behind her curtain.

I am traumatised. Needless to say, when I woke up (sober and in pain) I tried to make a break for it through the window. The nurses are like ninjas, they must have some sort of military training, they were three steps ahead of me the entire time. They're like ninja assassins in blue outfits, they gain your confidence with smiles and promises of drugs and the next thing you know you've been tucked into bed so tightly you can't escape, and they're stealing your blood! VAMPIRE NINJA ASSASSINS! I've discovered their secret, spread the word, gather your wooden stakes and meet me in the car park of Southport hospital so we can rid the world of this evil.

Anyway, I blame my ovaries. They're rebelling against lack of sex, punishing me with pain until I get a cock between my legs. I think they may be in league with my tibial plateau, my body is determined to do me in. Bastard.

But I am home now, with a plentiful amount of painkillers and antibiotics to tide me over. I may be slightly high, but there are worse conditions to find yourself in. I could still be imprisoned, being jabbed with sharp things and fondled by hands in plastic gloves. Hospitals are scary, they're like bookclubs, you're not out until the computer says you are.

On another note, just to let everyone know, antibiotics make you constipated. I would give my right eye to be able to have a shit! I never knew how much I liked using the toilet until my bowels went AWOL, but now I'm mourning my arsehole, I think it died from boredom with nothing to do... Yes, I am such a lady, talking about my shitting deficiency.

I know what's happening ya know: my uterus and my knees have formed an allience and are waging war upon me. My bowels are caught in the middle and so have decided to become Switzerland and not get involved. The battle reached my stomach the other day cause I spent a few hours on my knees, worshipping at the shrine of the porcelain god and puking my guts up, but I think my stomach won that battle and drove the enemy back cause I haven't vomited since I let hospital. It's only a matter of time though, eventually the war will reach my head and then they'll be sorry, my mind is not for the faint of heart, one peek at my more intimate thoughts and the enemy will be running and screaming like a little girl! Moo ha ha ha! So I'm not worried.

I just re-read that last paragraph and decided that yes... I am most definitely high.

Anyhoo, I've spent the day reading Naruto (the manga) so have this:

How dare a drawing be so fucking pretty!!!!!! I wish Kakashi was real, I would hunt him down and make him mine and have hundreds of puppies! (and there wouldn't be a dolphin in sight!)

Boys boys boys!

There hasn't been enough boy love recently. On with the yaoi...

All hail Gojyo/Hakkai! The 58 love is alive! Although not as alive as the 93 porn...

Okay, not porn. Do you know how hard it is to find Sanzo/Goku porn???? Damn near impossible. I could steal some, but I fear the internet police. P.L. Nunn has some amazing pics of everything from Anita Blake to Final Fantasy, but last I checked there was no 93, the only pic with Goku in it wasn't even really of Goku, it was Seiten, and as much as I love likkle Goku without the diadem, Seiten would rip Sanzo to shreds and that's just not on!

But I digress, I come bearing porn, so porn I will bear. And when in need of some boy love the rabid fangirl need only look as far as Silver Chaos for her fix. Silver chaos rocks!!!




Adonis looks rather frightened. And why is Rasgiel always nekkid? Not that I'm complaining like, he's a god, he can do what the fuck he likes. More...






Tee hee! Is Might not a little slut? He gets around, no one is safe.

See. No one!

Adonis and Might look scared in this one. Moo ha ha ha! I love Rasgiel, the little perv.

That's enough Silver Chaos. Don't wanna exhaust my reserves. But everyone should own this video game, it's porn for the playstation gen, fantastic!!!!

Next I give you Drarry, enjoy...

How cute! Can't stand this pairing, but the pic is adorable!

Anyway, that's my Yaoi fix for the day. I disgust even myself. I immersed myself in Silver Chaos and this is what happens, I start foaming at the mouth. Should be banned that game!

The Mabudatchi Trio...

Okay so I did this quiz to see who my FB love would be. Naturally I got Shigure since I adore the little perv! But what I really want is the entire Mabudachi Trio, can't have one without the others, and imagine all the fun that could be had!!!!!! I'm still obsessed about seeing Ayame in a schoolgirls uniform, bent over a desk and Shigure wielding a ruler! *snicker* I can even see Hatori in the background shaking his head and telling them to be quiet! Oh how I wish my perverted fantasies were canon.

A Coffee Church and A Prezzie For My Sister...

I want a motorbike. No bones about it, I want one. A big thunking black one. A shiny big thunking black one so that I can use it to squish hedgehogs and small children. Motorbikes are sexy, I am sexy, therefore I should have a motorbike.

Of course, learning to drive would be a good idea. But I can't be arsed. I have a father, he has a car, thus I have my own chauffeur and limosene service. Course the limosene is a Ford Escort and the chauffeur won't wear a black hat when chugging me around town, but the service is there.

But really, I'm 22, all my mates can drive. course none of my mates have a motorbike, I'd be the coolest cat in the casba.

On to other topics. The coffee machine was reincarnated. Like Jesus. There was no great round rock or angels or the like, but I think it's begun to accumulate apostles. The teacups look slightly more humble, and the father was gazing at it with unhealthy adoration. I hoped that perhaps it could turn water into wine, but alas, when I put water in it all that came out was coffee. Just watch, some day soon there will be a Church of Coffee Worshipers, of which the coffee maker is the first pope, and religious nuts will make pilgrimages to my kitchen. Instead of bread and wine there will be coffee and Rich Tea biscuits. The teabags look homicidal.

Of course it came back to life when my hankering for coffee had subsided. I am firmly back on the good ship HMS Teabag. We are sailing the seven milky seas, searching for buried sugar. I am the Captain, I wear a PG Tips pyramid teabag as a hat and rule my crew with an iron mug. So far my crew consists of one, but I'm holding interviews next thursday at the community centre, if interested bring a CV and a teapot.

I also have a gift for my little sister, EMMA ARE YOU WATCHING!!!!!

I dedicate this picture to my little sister. Emma dear, you know you like it, I can't be the only pervert in the family.

Oohhoo hoo, I love yaoi. lovelovelovelove.

This pic is one of my favs, it does strange things to my delicates. Yes, I am mentally ill, but I love it. If guys can get off on lesbians, I can get off on randy boys fucking other randy boys. It's only natural. And it feeds my love of threesomes in which I am the only one there with a uterus.

And Emma, I can see you shaking your head and looking horrified, stop it, you have always known I am a filthy bint, you store all of the knowledge of my debauched life. When I die of some hideous disease I am trusting you to write my life story. You can't write, but the story should make up for that which you lack. It will be X-rated, but you'll make a mint. With the cash I want you to erect a fifteen foot statue of me in the back garden to honour my memory.

And don't forget that you have to keep my eyeballs in a box on the mantel piece.

Anyway, the pornish pixie is off to drink more tea and watch some hentai. Just kidding about the hentai part... okay no I'm not, but don't tell my mother.

The Teabag Conspiracy...

The coffee machine died.

I booted it to the bin in a fit of caffeine deprived rage, but the father rescued it.

I plan to give the poor unfortuante appliance a decent send off. There will be flowers and dark clothes and tissues and sherry for the guests, which of course will consist of me, my favourite mug and next doors cat since I am obviously burying the machine in the garden where the mooching moggie has taken up residence.

After much agonising I have decided that there will be no tea at the wake. Of course, under normal circumstances there would obviously be tea, the source of all comfort and the staple diet of widows and mourners. However, I deemed it in bad taste to have tea at the funeral of a coffee machine (tea being the mortal enemy of coffee after all, I have to keep the teabags and the instant coffee in seperate cupboards to prevent an interkitchenal incident.)

I would cremate the poor, unfortuante provider of coffee goodness, but I don't know what it would do to the oven and I value the microwave too much to even try it.

And thus... I am left only with the trusty kettle and a cupboard full of teabags, but I will struggle on. I have instant, and I swear I can hear the teabags snickering. If I was a more suspicious person I'd suspect a consipracy, but that would be silly, as teabags lack the intellectual capacity to plot and scheme, which is essential to any good conspiracy.

This, my dear friends, is what happens when you deprive me of sleep and much needed caffeine. I go potty. The above paragraph should be a testament to that. I would go to bed, only I have moved beyond the realm of weariness and have arrived in a giddly little world know only as Land Of The Twitching And Dancing Purple Spots. I am watching a repeat of Who Wants To Be A Millionare and I have decided that either Chris Tarrant is high, or I am. Although what I could possibly be high on I have no inkling... mashed potato maybe? I have eaten a most dishonourable amount of mashed potato today. Can you everdose on the fluffy substance? Has it ever been done? Can I give it a shot?

Again with the ramblings. I really must stop this. People will begin to think me insane.

This is lack of caffeine for you, a horrid affair. It does strange and ruthless things to ones grey matter. I have practically drowned myself in tea throughout the course of the day, and yet my hankering for strong black sugary coffee endures. Jesus help me.

But Jesus won't help me, not after the incident with the crucifix and the pentecost candle in Sunday school when I was nine. Proudest moment of my life, I actually coerced a man of the cloth to raise his voice in anger! *glee* But somehow I don't think Jesus would forgive me, no matter what the dusty old book says. I am sure the poor old, facial hair afflicted chap feels violated, but honestly, he did go and wear his hear like a hippy, what was I meant to think, he loked like an anorexic Barbie doll nailed to a wooden cross and all my wicked fantasies came to life.

I still don't know what happened to all those Barbies I maimed after that encounter.

Anyway, the point is, he wouldn't forgive me, and I don't want him to, since Lucifer and I are on intimate terms. The dark prince would undoubtedly see my absolution as a heinous betrayal, and the kinky bastard does have a rather generous helping of cock (even though he is a fallen angel and angels have no jiggly bits, but this is my twisted mind to get lost) so when it comes down to it, I choose the devil.

Basically all that was me saying that Jesus won't help me. See... lack.of.caffeine.

I do think I hear the teabags calling...

Coffee, Tea, Guns and Knees...

The smell of coffee is taunting me. My coffee maker is so slow and LOUD! I swear to god it gurgles and rasps and splutters like you'd never believe. I'd get it an iron lung if I didn't have instant to fall back on.

I do prefer my tea though. Tea makes the world go round. Tis the Fountail Of All Goodness. The Drink Of The Gods. The Divine Beverage. Cod Liver Oil For The Soul Only Far Better Tasting. Perhaps that is why the coffee maker makes the offensive noises it does, perhaps the gurgling is really profanity in coffee maker speak, and it it telling me of it's contempt for my favouring the teapot.

Come to think of it, when was the last time I used a teapot? Do I even have a teapot? I must scour the kitchen sometime in search of this elusive tea making utensil. I vaguely remember one, I think it was brown, or beige. Does it matter though? So long as I have a kettle and some teabags all is right with the world.

But I digress... I prefer tea, but occasionally the unfettered need for pure caffeine overrides the good sense of my tastebuds. And right now, I need coffee. The damn coffee maker however is making things difficult.

The old War Injury is acting up. I may call it the War Injury, but really, a bit of a knackered knee and my leg refuses to work, how pathetic. I scorn my right knee and all of it's contemporaries, namely the Anterior Cruciate Ligament, the the Posterior Cruciate Ligament, the Tibial Collateral Ligament and the Tibial Plateau, all of which are plotting to undo me. The swines.

Other than that my life is a cesspit of unadulterated boredom. Here I sit, in the corner seat of the leather sofa, propped up via a mountain of green cushions, watching some sort of home makeover programme and refraining from beating myself into unconsciousness. How did my life descend into this? I had a life once, friends and men and money and GUNS! Guns for christ's sake, SA-80s and the lark, MP-433s and other forms of deadly weapons. And a bayonette. My life was all sweat and dirt and laughter for a brief while, and now I'm getting fat through lack of physical exercise, watching daytime TV with my leg propped up on the pillows.

Ah tis a sad life for one who had fallen so far from grace. Then again, I was never that close to grace to begin with. Satan's had a room booked for me since the day I was born, there's nowhere for me to fall.

Except for off the sofa, where I am invariably going when I make the attempt to reach the kitchen and kick some sense into the spluttering coffee maker.

Fanfic, men sex, mwah

I have just spent the day pissing my pants! I went for a merry jaunt around fanfiction.net and was caught in the snare of the funniest story I have ever read! Okay, so it was a snarry fic, but once I got over the squick and laughed until my ears bled I decided that mebbe I could learn to like the fandom...

Snape... and no coffee! Oh the hilarity! Snape walking into doors, Snape muttering nonsensically to Dumbledore, Snape telling his students to make tongues! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I'm gonna go back and read it!

My unhealthy obsession with fanfiction is all Shell's fault! She introduced me to the medium when I was an innocent fourteen year old. Back then it was all Buffy Buffy Buffy with her and she was convinced Willow should be shagging Spike so naurally she had to rely on various unhinged individuals to cater to her desires via the net.

Oh and how it all went downhill from there.

Then the Jedi Apprentice books came out and suddenly Obi Wan was shagging Xanatos all over the internet and I found myself salivating. And so my thirst for yaoi was born, but back then it was just good ol' plain slash and I could pretend I was just curious.

The Dragonball took over my life and sudenly Goku was shagging Vegeta (when he wasn't shagging me in my dreams) and then came Saiyuki and the dreaded 93 relationship (WHICH IS PRACTICALLY CANON PEOPLE!) closely followed by Naruto (SasuNaru, they belong together) and Final Fantasy (Cloud and Sepiroth, *drool* and occasionally Sepiroth and the KFC dude... don't ask...) and so naturaly all of the Ann Rice vampires are screwing each others brains out (including Claudia in some instances which just weirds me out since I can't wrap my teeny brain around chan) and Jack and Daniel love from Stargate is just toooooo adorable to ignore.

Am I forgetting any???

Remus/Sirius (Tonks who?) Hakkai/Gojyo (a pair of nineteen year olds living together, and we all know Gojyo is a hopeless slut) Legolas and anything, the elf is just too hot! I can barely stomach twincest (although some of the fics I've read have been quite hot) but I draw the line at Blackcest, my beautiful Sirius would NEVER shag Regulus, never in a million god forsaken years! And as for the rest of the family... please, I might be able to hack Sirius/Andromeda but I'm a yaoi bint so really... how does that fit into my head???

And if anyone comes anywhere near me with Obi/Qui be prepared to die a horrible death because it is just. plain. wrong.

However I have taken a fancy to ObiMaul which turned my world upside down for about five seconds before I stumbled over sithacademy and proceeded to cream my pants between passing out from fits of giggles. Sith cats and Jedi hamsters and happy farms happy pills and Dartha Stewart and sex over the bonnet of a car and jedi in kilts and "Sith do not use fabric softener" oh the joy!

And yes, now that I have rightened myself I shall scurry away to re-read that fucking hilarious fic I mentioned earlier. And because I am in a lewd mood I will share a lewd pic even though I will be burnt at the stake...

BAM!

Oh I'm goooooood! Say g'bye to the pornish pixie, I'm off!!!!!!

Feathered Agents of Satan!

I am not a morning creature. So why, why under god in heaven am I awake at stupid-o-clock??? I'll tell you why! I surfaced to the land of the living at the crack of dawn, as I am wont to do since the Army permanently fucked me up. But since I no longer have to crawl out of bed at such an ungodly hour to march across the drill square or oil any rifles I usually just roll over and go back to sleep. However, today my brain decided to screw me over. I lay there, wide awake, wracking my grey matter in an attempt to remember the name of the lead vocalist of Good Charlotte. Why???? I don't bloody know! All I know is that I couldn't get back to sleep until I remembered, so I lay there eyeballing the ceiling thinking "James? Jake? Jack? John?" until I surrendered and got out of bed.

His name is Joel by the way. In case you were wondering. And now that I have recalled this snippet of useless information I am as awake as a caffeinated meerkat and utterly peturbed!

And the sun is smiling and the birds are singing and GAAAAAAA!!!!! Only a creature of utmost evil is cheerful this early in the morning! Now excuse me while I go and strangle the bluebirds chippering in my garden. Die, feathered agents of satan! DIE!

TO HIS FRIEND IN ELYSIUM

So long you wandered on the dusky plain,

Where flit the shadows with their endless cry,
You reach the shore where all the world goes by,

You leave the strife, the slavery, the pain;

But we, but we, the mortals that remain

In vain stretch hands; for Charon sullenly

Drives us afar, we may not come anigh

Till that last mystic obolus we gain.

But you are happy in the quiet place,
And with the learned lovers of old days,

And with your love, you wander ever-more

In the dim woods, and drink forgetfulness

Of us your friends, a weary crowd that press

About the gate, or labour at the oar.

Joachim Du Bellay, 1550

My penchant for morbid poetry really isn't an insight into my character; I'm really quite upbeat. Honest. But I am a shallow bitch, so it takes something rather depressing to affect me in any which way, thus the need to recite classical gothic poetry. I was going to shove The Raven by Poe in here, I know it off by heart, the rythmn and rhyme sort of etch themselves into your brain, but I couldn't be bothered with such an epic. Make do with Du Bellay.

Mwahahahahaha! How I do love the juxtaposition of morbid poetry with randy bishonen! I am sick! *snicker* I bet Mr Du Bellay is spinning in his grave!

In other news... Liverpol is in the final! GET IN MOTHER FUCKER! No big surprise like, since the 'Pool rocks the casba, just thought it deserved a mention. W00t!

Emotional sadism...

I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead. He is just away.
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land.
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be since he lingers there.
And you- you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return-
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of there as the love of here;
Think of him still as the same, I say;
He is not dead-he is just away.

James Whitcomb Riley (1849 - 1916)

Why do I always prefer poems that make me sad? Perhaps I am an emotional sadist.

Even My Dreams Are Twisted...

THAT'S IT! No more Harry Potter for me! I had the most disturbing dream last night, involving Remus Lupin, Sirius' mother, and a bathtub. No... get your head out of the gutter, it wasn't that kind of dream, but nonetheless it was rather unsettling.

I am treating myself to a night on the tiles tonight. Ok, so Maxims isn't exactly an upper class tile, but it serves alcohol and I plan to get smashed. I am going to conveniently forget that I used to go to the exact same place as a fifteen year old for fear that I may be regressing. In a week I'll be drooling and crawling around on all fours. Wait... I already do that.

There is a yellow rose on the mantel piece and I don't know how it got there. Hmmm... yellow roses mean friendship... can't be for me...

How does one put weight on their wrists? I have no desire to develop any podge but I have the forearms of a six year old, and the veins reall really stick out... I suppose it would be helpful if I were a heroin addict but alas... I don't get my jollies out of needles. It's really beginning to bug me, if I hold my hand up I can almost see through my arm, and my hand looks massive, but that's only cause my wrist looks like a toothpick. Somebody put me into proportion!

Anyway, more importantly... what shall I wear tonight? I know, such a female question, but it needs to be addressed because I am a lazy bastard and I am also depressingly indecisive. Come midnight I will still be sitting here typing away because I am to lazy to get off my pretty little arse and shave my legs and I will probably need a good solid three hours to choose and outfit. Black always works, especially for Maxims, but... do I want to blend in or stand out. This needs to be addressed before I can be dressed.

Fuck it, I'll go in my pyjamas, then I'll be ready to fall into bed and prepare for my hangover as soon as I get home. Yeah, that's a plan.

I also haven't posted any yaoi pics in a while (snape/harry cannot count as yaoi) and I feel the need to remedy this, if only because the one person I know who reads this thing gets freaked out by boys rubbing up against other boys:

Hee hee hee hee! SasuNaru!

I have far more hardcore pics, but I fear for the anklebiters, and I fear for myself when the anklebiter's parents hunt me down with pitchforks. It comes to something thought, when I'd rather ogle drawings than photos... but the imagination is so much better than real life! At least I understand that I am mentally ill and can accept it with all the aplomb I can muster.

Perhaps later I will post a more hardcore pic, if I muster up the courage.

And now... piece de la resistance...

SEITEN TAISEI!

Nuff said.

Harry Potter? Severus Snape? Hot Sex? *vomit*

I am taking a break from this vicious cycle of self torture. I am (for some reason) reading the Harry Potter books in reverse order. After just getting over Sirius' heartwrenching death I now find myself immersed in PoA and I'm contemplating the kitchen knives in a very unhealthy manner.

I hate tragic heros of any kind. They all make the bottom lip go all aquiver.

In some need of Sirius shaped comfort I went for a wander around the Sirius LiveJournal communities and fell (completely by accident) upon a Snape/Harry fic.

SCARRED. FOR. LIFE.

I am a rabid Yaoifangirl, but there are some things that squick even me. I mean, come on... Snape and Harry???? O_o

I feel ill. Okay, okay, so I continuously pimp the 93 relationship from Saiyuki when alot of people view it as incest (it's NOT! Goku is NOT Sanzo's son! Goku is 500 years OLDER than Sanzo for fuck's sake!) so I may be acting slightly hypocritically. But still...

Harry having sex... SEX... with Snape! Using potions as lubrication and doing things with a wand that would make Voldemort whimper. Do you think if I shove soap far enough up my nose I'll be able to wash my brain?

In other news... it is likely that Prince Harry will face a battlefield ban. Yes, random of me I know, but I was swelling with national pride not long ago knowing that the fitter of the two princes (in my opinion) was willing to go to the front line with the troops. I realise that he would more than likely attract insurgent attacks and all that but the idea of a royal putting his blue blooded arse on the line had me all atwitter.

Atwitter??? Is that a word???

Also, my mates are all going on holiday and I can't. No dosh. No fair. Where did I put those kitchen knives?

Saying that, I did just buy a ridiculously expensive ticket to go see Carmen in November. But even if I hadn't decided the opera deserved a visit from yours truly I still wouldn't have had enough pennies. I need to find a rich older man, marry him, then wait for him to kick the bucket. I'd have no trouble shaging a wrinkly arse if it meant a few million, I have no scruples.

As it is, I'm just gonna pull on my boots, go find good old reliable Alex, shag him senseless, steal his wallet, and take my corrupt self shopping. I am evil, but the bastard will forgive me since he has a blind spot where I am concerned. Besides... he's loaded and I'm skint.

Ten points if you know who this is.

No?

Ok, I'll tell you. Tis a young Gary Oldman *wibble* therefore a young Sirius Black. I felt the need to justify my attraction to Mr Oldman. This is my justification.

I'm sorry. I had to. It's just wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. *shudder*

Going to go scourgify my brain now.

The best thing about the Star Wars prequels...

Daaaa da...

Da da da daaaaaa da...

Da da da daaaaa da...

Da da da daaaaaaa!

*

And out of the Jedi robes....

*collapses*

Oooommmmmmmmmmmmmm

Careful kiddies, I've got my zen hat on and I'm feeling indulgent...

For your pleasure, a story from the archives of the Ninth Tier:

Long ago there was a stone mason who spent each and every day in the basking heat, chipping away at the base of a mountain for stone. On one particularly hot day, the stone mason returned from his labours to find a procession of finely dressed strangers passing through his village. In the middle of the throng was a wealthy man, langurously seated upon a golden seat, carried along by his servants.

The stone mason wished with all of his heart that he were the man on the golden seat, then he wouldn't have to slave away each day to make ends meat.

To his surprise, his wish was granted. He suddenly found himself draped over soft cushions, sat upon a gilded chair, carried along by his numerous servants. He was incredibly happy, but the sun crept higher and higher in the sky, and the man grew hotter and hotter. Eventually he could take it no more. He stared up into the sky and wished he was the sun, then he would be the one to shine down on everyone, and the world would worship him.

His second wish was granted. He suddenly found himself high in the sky, burning brightly upon the world. Without him there could be no life upon the world below, and he felt infinitely important and adored by all. But without warning, great clouds floated before him, casting a shadow over the world and hiding him. He became angry that he had been outdone by a cloud, and so he wished that he were a cloud, then he could float anywhere in the sky, and he could choose whether the sun would shine on the world or not.

His wish was granted, and suddenly he was a great cloud, traversing the sky as though he owned it. He cast a huge shadow on the ground beneath him, and he was happy. But before he knew what was happening he was moving against his will. A gust of wind was blowing him far away, and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt completely poweless against the wind.

He wished he were the wind. Then he would truly be able to go wherever he wished, and he could choose to uproot and move anything he desired. His wish was granted, and he became the wind. He found that he could move with great speed across the sky. He could be a light breeze, or a terrifying hurricane. But suddenly he came up against something he could not move. Something massive and solid blocked his path through the sky and he was unable to move it. When he looked at what was barring his way he found that it was a mountain.

He wished that he were a mountain, nothing would be able to move or hurt him. He'd be a strong, invincible presence; unmoveable and eternal. His wish was granted, and he became a mountain. He felt completely secure, knowing that he stood tall above everything else in the world. But suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the stone he was made of, somewhere far far below. What could make something so huge and indestructable feel pain? Something far more powerful than a mountian surely. So he wished to be the source of this pain, then he truly would be the most powerful presence on earth.

His wish was granted, and he was once a gain a stone mason.

See, I can be deep when I want. I was feeling philosophical.... meh, I was bored.

If you don't get the moral of the story, may god have mercy on your soul, and no cookies for you.

Somebody get me out of this snowglobe!

The blossom trees around my house are shedding. It's rather pulchritudinous actually. The sky is overcast; it looks like it's raining white blossom, but the petals are dancing to the ground rather than falling. I feel like I'm trapped in a huge, resplendent snowglobe.

I prefer cherry blossom. We have a cherry blossom tree in the garden but it's only a diddy little thing. It reminds me of the bonsai tree my old martial arts teacher used to have. I adored that bonsai tree. When he kindly ordered me to never ever touch the tiny tree due to the fact that it was over 100 years old I decided that it was the coolest thing on the planet. It had seen over a century for christ's sake! I could practically see the seasons washing past it over the decades and I felt oddly humbled by the mini tree. It was the first time I was ever confronted with my own mortality. That tree is older than I will ever be, and it will probably still be watching the seasons pass long after I'm dead. It's odd how something so small can have such longevity, but just look at Yoda. The dude was 900 years old when he finally kicked the bucket!

Look, I'm being morbid again. I'm not a morbid person really, but I've been reading Harry Potter and I always get depressed around the part where Sirius dies. He was my fav character. Boo.

I love his hair in this picture... is it wrong of me to be attracted to Gary Oldman when every bone in my body is screaming at me that he's an old man????? *sigh*

I'm listening to Der Rosenkavalier, the Trio. The most beautiful music ever concieved of. I think Strauss may have descended from the Ninth Tier himself. But I've had enough of enticingly somber Opera, I think I'll move on to a bit of Nine Inch Nails. I am the definition of eclectic.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Weren't expecting that were ya! Not after me goin' on about cherry blossom and Opera! I felt dirty talking all cultured, I had to put the tone back in it's place with a little YAOI! I'm not a massive fan of Naruto, but I go all wibbly over SasuNaru, and this pic just tugs at me in very intimate places! *nosebleed*

First Post in my new and shiny blog!

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, by Dylan Thomas. One of my fav poems. No, I am not a sap. It makes me think of the last time I ever saw my grandmother. Okay, mebbe I am a sap. And bloody proud of it.

I deleted my other blog. I dunno what I was on when I wrote most of those posts, but I refuse to believe I was sane and sober. Probably high on pain medication, but meh.. what can ya do?

Therefore, all hail the new online diary of yours truly. Supercilliously entitled "The Ninth Tier Of The Seventh Circle Of Heaven On High" *takes a bow*

I am off to google for yaoi imags now. Yes, I am a dirty, filthy, debauched, rabid yaoi fangirl. I think I may have been male and a homosexual in a past life. Nice to know that the desire to see men nekkid transcends even the barriers of time and space when it comes to my immortal soul.

And for your viewing pleasure, a pic from the archives of the Ninth Tier itself:

Mwuahahahahahahahaha! I love this pic! Dropped to my laptop straight from heaven itself!

How on earth did I manage to include morbid poetry and smexy yaoi boys in the same post? Ch -- innate brilliance I suppose. And now I am off with my depraved self to see if I can't find any Sanzo/Goku fics, or if I'm lucky... Obi/Xani! There aren't that many out there! *drowns in own drool*