OK, it’s about time for the usual running commentary on weekend activities. This week wis lyrics.
Don’t tell me you wanted me. Don’t tell me you thought of me.
I love CC because although everyone is pretty much an enemy to everyone else in one way or another, and pretty much none of them are doing many good things, there is still (pretty much) no real bad guy. Good jobon me. The biggest selling point Ien has is that she’s the legitimate heir to the throne. Well, and Cetoux’s a bigger asshole.
All that we learn this time is carried beyond this life.
I petted the dog and now my hand smells like her. That’s why I usually don’t pet them. Did I tell about the other night where Rosie slept in my room? Let me check. No, I didn’t. Well, she came into my room in the middle of the night (my night) and startled me awake; I made her go away. Then she came back; I made her go away again. Then she came back, and this time I put her into my parents room (where she sleeps) and closed the door. Presently she was back, and this time before I could make her go away she curled up in a little ball and put her head down like, Pleeease let me stay!!!! So I let her stay. But I was kinda weirded out. Neither of the dogs has ever been unusually fond of me… not to say they don’t like me, but they don’t come sleep in my room. Later I found out that there was a pager routinely going off in my parents’ room that sounded like the shock collar Rosie had a long time ago and it was scaring her.
I show you my hands; you don’t see the scars.
Guitars are guitars! Womse rates kjbitr rates! Some guitars are BITER GUITARS. Like these ones. They bite my soul. I am craven and thou art my master.
This isn’t as much of a commentary as usual, since I’ve just been working on CC since I got home. Which is really a good thing, but, again, doesn’t make for much of a commentary. So I think I’ll post this now.