When did it get so fucking cold?

I love the cold. Love it. I would rather be freezing, in Siberia wearing a tank top and bikini bottoms, 2 minutes from a cold-induced coma leading to death, than just the tiniest bit too warm.

That being said, holy hell is it freezing right now! It may be because I'm sitting in the squid room, or because I'm wearing a tank top, or because I'm wearing a hat made of ice cubes, but regardless, I am uncomfortably cold (I didn't think that was possible).

I'm going to go make a casserole, or something. In the meantime, have a panoramic view of the squid room (though it's a mess at the moment, and covered in cardboard and art supplies because I'm making decorations for a friend's zombie party this weekend).

SQUID ROOM!

Sometimes I get drunk.

And now, two seconds with Slagathor

Who watches Fringe? Anyone?

I am freaking in love with that show. Holy shit, is it good times. Olivia is like the hardcore love-child of Chuck Norris and Mulan. Broyles is the most frightening, stern, calm freak of nature ever. Walter is the mad scientist version of what I hope my dad turns into in 20 years, and Peter is freaking Percy from DAWSON'S CREEK (which, no, I never watched. Not a single episode. I just find it amusing that a cast member of the bitchiest, whiniest, pre-teen drama EVER finagled his way onto a show with so many supreme beings of ultimate badassery).

I wish that the cast of Fringe were here in Atlanta. I've been sick with what I am certain is either some weird, mucus-replicating super-weapon made by bald men to try to take over the world so the parallel universe can reign supreme,  or super-triple pneumonia. My brains are oozing out of my face, hurting while doing so, and my sinuses are slowly collapsing under the suction and pressure. Plus, I've been busy as all hell with school (why was learning so much easier a few years ago, when I was so much dumber???), so the poor True Story of Slaggy-Waggy/Slaggo/Slaggs has been neglected a bit. Apologies.

How I've spent almost every moment of free time for the past two weeks.

I met a new friend a week or two ago, by the name of Rocky Doe. He's a dear (not a deer, even though I LOVE puns), and wrote me a poem that was inspired by this bizarre blog-nonsense. In lieu of actually telling you a story or trying to come up with anything clever on my own, I'm going to now close with said poem (with the permission, of course, of dear Rocky Doe).

I hope to update more regularly now that my house is clean(ish) and my midterms are over (for the most part) and my life is calming down (and by "life" I mean "horrendous cold").

Without further ado:

"I went to your blog and read it, and composed this poem in my style.

LLM I

sleep god damn it

sleep come to me now

sleep please don't run away 

please don't run away and leave me awake

please don't run away and leave me thinking

please don't run away and leave me alone

leave me alone to wait

leave me alone to want

leave me alone to sleep

-Rocky Doe"