Yesterday marked my 1500th LJ post. I'd hoped for something more momentous than a post-modern ode to Tom Bombadil and the wonders of a brain equipped with a self-service crackpipe, something like a bit of fic, but it wasn't to be, and I suppose you could do worse than tubby kung fu pandas.

I figured out what "Bueck Dich" means, and is it wrong that I find the idea of being ordered to bend over by a large, strapping, alpha male German incredibly sexy? Jawohl, mein Herr.

I awoke this morning to a barf opera in the bathroom. "Huh-ERGGGG! Huh-Weeeeehhh! Huh-reeeeckkkk!" Think of a set of bagpipes being given the Heimlich by an asthmatic sumo wrestler. It seems Roomie has come down with a cold, and the post-nasal drip was torturing his gag reflex. If only the basso profundo, Handelian splendor of his bum winds had accompanied it, perhaps with a rumbling, authoritative arpeggio; I might've witnessed the birth of a new classic.

Ah, well, at least I can take solace in the fact that he'd make a dreadful gay hooker.
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