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I'm finally beginning to emerge from my post-Rammstein funk. I'm eating and drinking regularly, and the fatigue has begun to lift. I'm glad, because feeling lethargic is frustrating and exhausting. It's good to be myself again and have energy for reading and various creative endeavors.
I'm nearly finished with Fear. I would have finished it yesterday if I had bothered to read, but I chose to faff about on the Internet and watch TV instead. CSI:NY was watchable, but it's too little, too late for it, I'm afraid, and any goodwill generated by the case was duly squandered by Lindsay's ridiculous whinging. "Oh, noes, working this scene involving birthday presents will ruin Lucy's birthday tomorrow! Woe! Woe!" Oh, my God, suck it up, you simpering drama queen. Plenty of cops and criminalists have children and manage to do their jobs like trained professionals. You know, like you're supposed to be. But Hawkes coddled you anyway and picked up your slack. Of course. Because you're a useless asspimple who can't be expected to pull your weight because you queefed a squalling lump of Messer into the world.
Don't even get me started on the promo for the season/series finale. Just don't. I might've vomited in my mouth and swallowed it, along with the urge to Hulk-smash the TV.
In less rage-inducing news, I started Sprache XIX today. Huzzah!
I'm nearly finished with Fear. I would have finished it yesterday if I had bothered to read, but I chose to faff about on the Internet and watch TV instead. CSI:NY was watchable, but it's too little, too late for it, I'm afraid, and any goodwill generated by the case was duly squandered by Lindsay's ridiculous whinging. "Oh, noes, working this scene involving birthday presents will ruin Lucy's birthday tomorrow! Woe! Woe!" Oh, my God, suck it up, you simpering drama queen. Plenty of cops and criminalists have children and manage to do their jobs like trained professionals. You know, like you're supposed to be. But Hawkes coddled you anyway and picked up your slack. Of course. Because you're a useless asspimple who can't be expected to pull your weight because you queefed a squalling lump of Messer into the world.
Don't even get me started on the promo for the season/series finale. Just don't. I might've vomited in my mouth and swallowed it, along with the urge to Hulk-smash the TV.
In less rage-inducing news, I started Sprache XIX today. Huzzah!
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