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(Senti)Mental
Oct. 5th, 2005 10:07 pmI shall now play a computer game full of escapist nonsense (Morrowind) and eat ice cream...because seriously dudes..this emigration thing is overrated...
books books books selling books, work work work, worketiwork, fixetifix, tax authorities and bank errand-hottness...like premature menopause - in flashes and waves.
Where I once sat there is now a huge HUGE HUUGE-FUCKING-MONSTROUS pile of papers.
Dry drowning is good for your skin.
At least all my letters of recommendation from work state that I'm an excellent person.
If they only knew the speed of my thumbs when I slash a foe in half with my mighty greatsword...
This has been the prettiest Swedish fall ever..I cry I cry..
I miss the geek and the home and the bed..cry cry...I'll miss my friends and the CHESTNUTS that only grow in Uppland Sweden, why can't I mix it all in a jar and have it with me wherever.
When I wine about my life (babies: to have or not to have), Pauline suddenly stares at me and barks with a grin, STOP IT YOU HAG, 45 is NO AGE AT ALL!!
When Stella says cutie pie and scratches my hair even though it's not been washed in AGES.
When Jenny screams that I'm her best seal into her cellphone so that the whole restaurant hears it.
When Morten is telling me all his SECRETS and says that his life is in my HANDS and now I must drink hard liqueur to seal the deal.
When Sofia and her toddler give me a group hug, and Lova says that I must live in her room for Christmas and Hansen makes me sandwiches.
When Nina does her surprise cameos and Grzm tells me that I'm WRONG and we must have a discussion that will take forever and I let him win out of sheer exhaustion.
When Mille tells dirty jokes about pharmaceutical drugs making you hump pillows, B-man breaks wind like a volcano and Tall Leif puts on his dirty-old-man voice and starts sentences with "little girl..."
I want to put all this and a bunch of other stuff in a bottle and take it with me, because then I'd know that I'd never have to pay a therapist for depression treatment.
why why do I make posts when I feel like this...
books books books selling books, work work work, worketiwork, fixetifix, tax authorities and bank errand-hottness...like premature menopause - in flashes and waves.
Where I once sat there is now a huge HUGE HUUGE-FUCKING-MONSTROUS pile of papers.
Dry drowning is good for your skin.
At least all my letters of recommendation from work state that I'm an excellent person.
If they only knew the speed of my thumbs when I slash a foe in half with my mighty greatsword...
This has been the prettiest Swedish fall ever..I cry I cry..
I miss the geek and the home and the bed..cry cry...I'll miss my friends and the CHESTNUTS that only grow in Uppland Sweden, why can't I mix it all in a jar and have it with me wherever.
When I wine about my life (babies: to have or not to have), Pauline suddenly stares at me and barks with a grin, STOP IT YOU HAG, 45 is NO AGE AT ALL!!
When Stella says cutie pie and scratches my hair even though it's not been washed in AGES.
When Jenny screams that I'm her best seal into her cellphone so that the whole restaurant hears it.
When Morten is telling me all his SECRETS and says that his life is in my HANDS and now I must drink hard liqueur to seal the deal.
When Sofia and her toddler give me a group hug, and Lova says that I must live in her room for Christmas and Hansen makes me sandwiches.
When Nina does her surprise cameos and Grzm tells me that I'm WRONG and we must have a discussion that will take forever and I let him win out of sheer exhaustion.
When Mille tells dirty jokes about pharmaceutical drugs making you hump pillows, B-man breaks wind like a volcano and Tall Leif puts on his dirty-old-man voice and starts sentences with "little girl..."
I want to put all this and a bunch of other stuff in a bottle and take it with me, because then I'd know that I'd never have to pay a therapist for depression treatment.
why why do I make posts when I feel like this...
