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| 27-February-2008, 10:29 |
| It's a trap |
| Public |
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As I said, I'm catching up on my reading in lieu of creating my own stories in my head.
My current selection is book 2 of Kim Harrison's Rachel Morgan series, "The Good, The Bad, and the Undead." Good shit. No lie.
Anyway, there's this steamy scene in it and I can't even enjoy it because I'm screaming, "Damn it, bitch, it's a fucking TRAP!!!" I'm having like this cold dreadful fear that the main character is fucking up hard core. Which sucks, because the scene was very well written, so well that I'm feeling more dread for her than happiness.
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I was going to take my guitar into the shop to be tuned today, but I decided against. My Beloved shamed me out of it.
"I'm taking my guitar to be tuned tomorrow."
"You still can't do it yourself?"
It was an innocent question, but it pissed me off. I'm not trying hard enough.
Plus, I really think it needs to be restrung too, but I'll try tuning it first.
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Sushi day today. Volcano rolls. Crab Nigiri. Rinse. Repeat.
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I'm wearing my leather pants. Best thing about rare cold days, getting to break out the leather.
I need new clothes, but dread having to find them. When I grow up, I'm hiring a personal shopper to dress me. I love wearing nice clothes. I hate shopping. If I could just write down my measurements and fabric requirements, and colors... and just let someone go with it.
Yeah. Whatev.
Oh, that's my new favorite phrase: Whatev'
I'm wearing it out. I love it.
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