Life as a movie...

I no longer write drabbles in w100 and yet I frequently write them for sn100. It makes no sense. *shrugs* Well, I really have nothing to say, so I'm going to quote Tatsuya Ishida from Sinfest:

If life is a movie most people would consider themselves the star of their own feature. Guys might imagine they're living some action adventure epic. Chicks maybe are in a rose-colored fantasy romance. And homosexuals are living la vida loca in a fabulous musical. Still others may take the indie approach and think of themselves as an anti-hero in a coming of age flick. Or a retro badass in an exploitation B movie. Or the cable man in a very steamy adult picture. Some people's lives are experimental student art films that don't make any sense. Some are screwball comedies. Others resemble a documentary, all serious and educational. A few lives achieve blockbuster status and are hailed as a tribute to the human spirit. Some gain a small following and enjoy cult status. And some never got off the ground due to insufficient funding. I don't know what my life is but I do know that I'm constantly squabbling with the director over creative control, throwing prima donna tantrums and pouting in my personal trailor when things don't go my way.
-T.

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I went out at lunch and braved the 33 degree day to get ice-cream. Mmmm... peppermint choc chip! Best ice-cream flavour in the universe.

Although, as I had no cash, I had to spend $5 to use the eftpos. Now, I'm sitting here with a packet of fantales...

I *love* fantales! Chocolate and caramel and little inane celebrity trivia. Man, prepare for a sugar rush this arvo. (At this rate, it's likely that the pack will be empty by the time I go home.)

*eats another fantale*

Battle of the Fandoms!

I think my Sports Night love is going to overpower my Queer Eye love.

To explain, I have two choices tonight. I can either stay in the city, and attend a seminar on Queer Eye and how reality television is making us over. OR, I can go straight home and stop at the library to pick up an album of Danny-love (or, to the uninitiated, Tom Waits).

I think the early night of moody music may win. (Plus, I ate all the Fantales, so now I have the post-sugar high crash that's making me want to crawl up in a corner and sleep.)

It's an appropriate icon, today.

I fell down dashing for the train home. Just slipped on one of the stairs, and my legs went out from underneath me, and I went *thump* *thump* *thump* down three steps on my butt. I have sore hands and a very slight graze on one elbow, and I'm expecting bruises to show up on my tailbone tomorrow, and my fave heels that are slowly dying, one of them broke as I fell. But after a long hot bath with the CD player wailing out Tom Waits (Blood Money and Blue Valentine), I'm no longer sore.

I don't watch reality TV, but I flicked past Average Joe. You know, it's a dodgy show, but I'll be very pleased if they do a flipped version of it with average looking girls. I dislike that value, that a girl should be pretty, but a guy should just need personality. I want to see a gorgeous guy propose to a non-glamourous girl.

All the same, right now I'm watching Linda Green. Now, there's a gal that I find highly sexually attractive. Mmmmm...

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It's late and I'm tired. I'm going to bed, but before I do, I just wanted to mention that reading Mal/Simon smut cheered me up immensely. In particular, reading Fever and Unification Day.