"Mais Manu vivre libre, c'est souvent vivre seul."

Gakked from the_grynne:

The current top 46 books from whatshouldireadnext.com. Bold the books you have read. Italicise the books you might read. Leave the rest.

( Clicky. )

Which brings me to: god, I used to read so much. I always had two or three books going on at the same time, and I finished them quickly, too. Now it's a struggle to get through one, because, very simply, I don't take the time anymore. When and where do I read? On the metro. And that's it. The internet has swallowed up my literary life.

Part of me would like to go "oh, resolution! now I shall read more once again! go back to those glorious days when I read ten books in a month, instead of one!" But I just know that it won't happen. The internet has swallowed up my literary life, and it sucks, but at the same time I know I'm not ready to give up any of my internet-related addiction to remedy to that.

So, um, yeah. This is pointless whining. I'll shut up now.

No I'm not spamming the flist. (Typeative!)

I just realised I hadn't spread the word! Woe.

You can sign up for the Alias: Dearly Departed ficathon until tomorrow. Hurry up! You know you want to help some of those dearly departed back to us. Not just the recently dearly departed, but anybody during those five seasons of very uneven quality.

And I forgot to mention - I got the second half of SPN yay! So. Pretty. I'd almost forgotten. I'm at 1x13 now.

And I have The Jury (the English one) to watch and I still haven't started. I also have Soccer Aid waiting for me. I can't believe I'm going to watch a football game. Honestly.

Ghost Whisperer is one of the worst shoes in the history of ever, and not even Sean Maher can make it any better.

Now, any of you think Little Fucker will be there for me to teach?


EDIT: omigodwhat? There's an upcoming Alias convention in London and GREG AND DAVID ARE BOTH ATTENDING? See, this is where it shows that I'm not nearly as dedicated to Alias as I am to Firefly, because I'm not really considering going, just wishful-thinking. Still, my little shipper heart is all a-thumping.

Long Lives Charlie Weasley!

This is not spamming the flist, it's following up on what I was telling you about. Yes. (I swear this is my last post of the day.)

Right, so. Off I go to teach Little Fucker. I get there, and the door opens on, hellooo you hot man-person you, I've never seen you before. Little Fucker's big brother, who I think usually is in the States, and was home for a few days?

Now, guess who wasn't home, though. That's right, Little Fucker is who.

So Charlie (it only makes sense for him to be Charlie, if Little Fucker's one of the twins) calls Little Fucker on his cell and tells him to get his ass here ASAP. There was snapping and yelling and no-nonsensing involved. Little Fucker got there ten minutes later.

Charlie's my new hero.

And now I kind of want to go back to that Charlie Weasley/Gwen Raiden fic I started a while ago.

What I need to do: update my to-do list. It used to be all organised, fic-wise, and then got completely obsolete and abandoned when I suddenly decided to launch myself into NaNo. Yes, that would be back in November. I really, really need to get to it.