Class and The Weasley Weapon

I have had tea and chocolate to fortify myself against the looming threat of tomorrow and the first day of my six-week course in 20th Century American Lit. It's not the course that bothers me, but the horrendous mental grind of sitting in a room and listening to a professor lecture for three hours. Especially since I can't break the soul-crushing tedium by taking notes. I have to sit there and feign rapt interest for the duration. It's all right for the first ninety minutes, but after that, death would be sweet release. Still, I console myself with the knowledge that after six weeks, summer is mine. Eight glorious, rapturous weeks of dreamy idyll. Plenty of time to absorb new Potter canon when it comes. ~bliss~

Chapter 1 of House of Bad Faith proceeds apace and, if the succubus known as Professor hasn't entirely drained my will to live, should be up on LJ after NCIS tomorrow. I consider it a writing workshop as much as a happy pastime, so if it bothers you or seems flimsy or clumsy in places, shout it out. That's what the Edit button is for, and only a fool refuses to use it.

I was nattering about the unfortunate decline of Ron Weasley's appearance in my last entry/ Well, if he's bum ugly, then Bill Weasley is sex on legs. Goddamn, but I bet his ponytail doubles as a pommel. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I beseech you to visit Playwitch .

Is it wrong of me to admit that when I got a gander at the uncut Weasley Weapon, my startled mind mistook it for an overstuffed sausage?