::ahem::

Mar. 19th, 2009 01:23 pm
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Retard Smile)
Forgot to mention the Burn Notice finale.

Can't be havin' that. )



Yeah, so Season 3 is when?

Question.

Jan. 29th, 2009 11:29 pm
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (What the hell?!)
Who has kettles of fish? Why in God's name would anyone want one?

And what makes a kettle of fish that much more different from the other? Was that a past time of old, comparing fish? Back before men realized that they could use their penises to do the exact same thing?


Good God, is it metaphor?!




I. I can no longer love life. The joy is gone.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Get me coffee!)
I am gonna be a superbitch in the morning. It's 1:20 right now, and I gotta get up at 6:30.

But theres fic to be read.

Sleep or porn?

Hmmm.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Bat Country)
Hedonistic, aint it?

Anyway, I'm cutting it because its mostly about angst, wanderlust, and general frustrations with mankind. I'd actually suggest not reading it because, while I'm not naming names, I am talking about people. And you may get upset.

Fair warning.

Snippity )

So, today's date is March 17, which makes it 3 months, 3 days till my triumphant return. 95 days even. (And Mandi was right, I do get back on the 20th.)

Lets make it count, shall we?


I need a Hitchiker's Guide icon.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Bat Country)
Bonjour from Autun!

I got here today via train (which was an interesting experiance, but a nice British guy who looked suspiciously like Clive Owen with a beard helped me with my bag. ::askance look::) But I met my host mother by almost freaking on her when she caught my arm. Oops. But it seems that the ASSE bags work, because thats how she found me. (for those who never saw it, my ASSE bag is a big piece of crap duffel in red, white, and blue that screams 'LOST AMERICAN HERE! ROB ME!')

Their house is beautiful, the countryside hilly, cool, and awesome. My host mother speaks wonderful English and asks that I help Jean (host brother of 14 years) with his English as he helps with my French. Maybe we'll switch homework... I mean...

It turns out that Marc (host brother of 16) is in Kansas City for the year as a student there! The only problem is that his school is entirely black and Hispanic. What was USA's ASSE thinking? Thats not the enviroment you drop a non-English speaking foreigner and expect him not to get hurt! So we are all hoping he gets a new family, or he may have to come home.

And on that note, my period started in the train station, so I had to ask my host mother (on the first day) to take me to get some supplies. She tried to explain the situation to my host brother, who flipped. Way to break the ice... Every time I turn around I feel like Gene Wilder in Romancing the Stone. Totally out of my depth here. But I'll learn. (and no Micheal Douglas to be seen...)

And I have my own bathroom! (useful)

They actually are renting this house, and they have their real house in the Dordougne area, and we'll be going down there this autumn. The father has a naturally high-stress job, so they take lots of short holidays to preserve his sanity. Understandable. I know a certain toxicologist in the same boat... Hope he doesn't workk too hard.

I start school on Tuesday with Jean, and we'll go to the office to negociate my tutuion, courses, and the like. Evidently one of the perks of private school is that the teachers aren't dragons. I reserve judgement.

Tomorrow we are going to Chathedral Saint Lazare for a special mass. They attend mass every Sunday, but don't expect me to do the same. I'm going to see their church a few times, and if their is nothing I need to otherwise do, I'll attend with them. This is my choice for now. It may change, but the family is so friendly and chill that they would understand if I chose not to attend. The mother told me that I was her one of her children now, and would be treated as such. They took Jean and me to McDonalds for dinner, which doesn't happen for Jean any more than for us, so we were both enthused. And the mother asked that she, Jean, and I begin doing something active together (I explained my knee injury, so she suggested moderate jogging/walking; which I am so down with.)

I'm a little concered about the language, but I'm giving it time and not panicking. I even have a towel.

Salute for now! (and please excuse any typos, this is a strange keyboard...)

Love,
Dami
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Fridge)
Dear Life, the Universe, and Everything,

Can we speed up the whole 'leaving forevar' thing? And could I get a Mom Translator, please? I've got tea...?

Please?
- z


Dear Arthur,

Go fuck yourself. My tea.

No love.
- z


Dear Phone,

DIEPLZ.

Thnx
- z
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Dr. Who Meets 3D)
I spent hours looking through these things. If you value your motherfucking sanity, don't do that.

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Look here instead. )
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Bat Country)
Sleep? Who the fuck needs sleep?

Answer: NOT ME
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (GTFO)
OHGODYUSS! PICSPAMLJCUTSAREFORSUCKS!

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DUNECATFORWIN!

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ONEDOESNOTSIMPLYROCKINTOSPARTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THANKYOU[livejournal.com profile] sublimeparadigmFORYOURAWESOME
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Default)
I am having the time of my life pissing my little sister off with my eclectic music tastes. Given that she has none to begin with, it is just that much easier. after a while I didn't even have to TRY to find a song that she hates; so long as it isn't by a popular artist from this century or all wailing violins and sobbing women, she hates it.

Here's a breif playlist, I suppose.

First came Spitfire by Prodigy. She said it sounded like cats in heat.

Then came Spin Spin Sugar by Sneaker Pimps. Obnoxious beat.

Walking with the Ghost, Tegan and Sarah. "Ew, crappy boy band."

Next, Todd Rudgren, I Don't Wanna Work. "Oh my God."

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Zoot Suit Riot. She was scandalized that I listened to swing.

So I served up the polar opposite, Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden. "Is he saying 'fear of the dog?'"

Kidnap the Sandy Claws by She Wants Revenge. "Ugh, I hate this. For the love of Mom, turn it off!"

I love this.

Polynesian Chants by Hans Zimmer. More of the same expressions of disgust. I LOVE THIS.

Magic Dance by David teh Bowie. She speaks blasphemy.

And then she said 'at least it's not jazz...'

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE!

Monsters Inc. Theme. "Dami, please! I can't stand jazz!"

And then I decide to take pity.

Insane in the Membrane by Cypress Hill. Dale forgot the number one rule about music. There is always something worse.

And now I wanna see Hackers...

Next on my Playlist of Horror and Pain, Misery by Trans Siberia Orchestra. Fitting. This one drove her out of the room.

And while I'm here, Mephistopheles by the same. I LOVE the ending of this song. And Dale hates it. But thats 'kay.

And then I get bored with my fringe stuff and listen to Death Dealer's Descent, Renholder. A god in my vision.

But I have discovered some very important things in this little experiment.

1) Dale hates all things good and holy and is clearly the brain child of filthy communist lies and satanic science experiments.

2) David Bowie is a sexy beast.

3) Angelina Jolie is even more so.

4) Dale hates Star Wars. See Item #1.

5) I want to bear Han Zimmer's brillinat children of the night music of the night... I'll stop...

g'night.

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