zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Not Today!)
I'm forever hearing Americans bash on the French simply because that's what we do.

Guess what, people? I'm a born and bred American with Southern roots and a chip on her shoulder, and I love the French. And you want to know why?

They are just as stubborn, prideful, and weird as we are.

They're stuck up and smug? Fuck, take a look at us. What kind of ego does a nation have to have to emblazon a billboard with the slogan, "America. Love It Or Leave It!"

They're cheese-eating surrender monkeys? Well, we're burger-eating warmongers sending our men and women to die in some godforsaken desert.

And God forbid there be a country that is just as verbal about their dislike for us as we are about them. I mean, where do they get the gall?!

God damn, people. You don't know the French, and they definitely don't know us. We are two radically different cultures and we still manage to rub each other the wrong way because pride is our way of life.

Lord knows, I am proud to be an American and plan on serving my country until the day I die. But I am still going to inform you that you are moron if you consider 'the French' to be some kind of national inside joke.

/rant

Calls Home

Dec. 26th, 2009 12:28 pm
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (This American Life)
Yesterday, I called my host mother, Muriel, at her home in France. I spent a goodly amount of time fighting with international calling protocols before the phone rang the way I wanted it to.

I only call her once or twice a year, so it's a real treat for us to talk to one another. She sends me postcards every few months, and I send her little gifts and card back.

She and I were talking, and she thanked me for all of my gifts over the year. My mother and I put together a little personalized calendar for her, filled with photos I've taken in France, Switzerland, Monaco, and America. But the present she loved the most was a pair of photos I e-mailed to her, months back.

The last time I was in New Orleans, I found a bistro right on Jackson Square called Bistro Muriel. I yelped and made my sister take shots of it, immediately. Muriel has American pen pals in Louisiana, but when she and I talked in France, she loved hearing about New Orleans. She wants to visit one day and see the Cafe du Monde and the Moonwalk for herself. So to find a bistro practically named after her, in the heart of the Vieux Carrie, was pretty amazing.
She told me that she had the pictures printed out and set up in her house.

I've sent her a lot of stuff, but it was really cool to me that she found that photo as cool as I did.

She also broke decorum and told me, in English, that she loved hearing from her girls every year, and that she was very happy when we called. Muriel has hosted three other girls, that I know of, including the Australian girl that I lived with for a few months, and she makes a point of keeping track of us, sending cards and little gifts. I don't know how typical this is, but I'm glad of it. The French are sometimes thought of as an aloof, haughty bunch, but when they think of you as family, you are going to be family until the day you die. I'm proud to consider Muriel and her clan a part of my family, and it was really kind of awesome to be refereed to as one of 'her girls.'

It was also funny to see my family's strange looks as I wandered around with the phone, babbling in somewhat broken French.

Even if I had issues with the day feeling like Christmas, calling home made things a little more awesome.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (O.O)



Oh god. Tecktonik has found America.
We are so screwed.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then simply observe this video.

What you observe the the otherwise goofy commercial is an actual dance movement currently gripping Europe, known as Tecktonik. What you observe in the music video is the elite of the Tecktonik dancers. The youth of France actually dress and dance like that. And guess what? We're next.

Those cool, hip checkered neckerchiefs that Lil' Wayne has made so popular? Started as a fad in France. And now, it seems, Tecktonik has broken the language barrier, too.

Guys, I've danced Tecktonik. I'm not proud of it, but it allows me to say with authority that this must be stopped. Actually doing those moves? Feels even goofier than it looks.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Default)
'You know how some people say that 'May your life be interesting' is a curse?'

'Yeah.'

'Fuck those people. Wanna have an adventure?'


That is my personal quote for the moment. And probably for evermore until something newer and cooler comes along, stealing my affections. I'm shallow like that.

In other news, House. My love for you cannot be textually rendured without a lot of buttonmashing. And its been raining a lot recently, so that would probably give me carpal tunnel.

No, wait, I'm lying. I got carpal tunnel from jerking off too much. God, you guys'll believe anything.

And on the note of real life, I've only had one cup of tea today. Tommorrow I'm going to daytrip to Clermont-Ferrand, the biggest town of this region. Hopefully while there I can find earphones that have a volume control set into them, because the 'volume down' button on my mp3 player has literally disconnected itself from... you know, reality. So I'm doin' the CD player thing until another option presents itself.
And in three days I will be packed (I hope), and ready to sit pretty in Paris, waiting for my flight. In four days, I will be on a plane. In five days, I will still be on a plane, but the destination will be in sight.

Heres hoping, right?
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Autumn road)
Have y'all ever actually seen this movie? Have you?

If you have, then you can understand how happy this movie makes me. If you have not... For shame, y'all. For friggin shame.

But what hit me when I started up the download movie was that it really is the Irish predecessor of Supernatural. Don't argue here, it is so blindingly obvious. And that just makes me happier.

The movie is funny. Its got family values. Its got violence. And... yeah, more violence.

And then theres the gay. I'm not sure I can articulate the gay in any way that resembles the English language. Just take my word for it. Best movie in the damn world, and it so is like Fight Club on St. Patrick's Day.

And on the note of real life, I got my dorm assignment for UWF. Apparently I lucked out, having a last name starting with 'D', because I was one of the few that didn't get triple-assigned to a room due to overflow. I'm in the smaller dorm building, but at least I'm on campus. A lot of freshmen have to find off-campus living. It seems the unknown school of West Florida got a little more well known.

Anyway, I know who my room mate is. For all the good it does me this week. So not calling cross-continential to figure out who's gonna bring the trashcan. So add that to my list of shit to do once I touch down in America-Land.

Next Saturday, y'all.

BOOYAH

Jun. 13th, 2008 12:54 am
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Labyrinth)
SCHOOL IS OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS.

NO MORE 9 HOUR DAYS, NO MORE QUESTIONABLE FOOD, NO MORE EVIL TEACHE- well, wait a minute, I still got college... nm.

BUT STILL!

My class basically spent the day either skipping or goofing off. They made me sing the Star-Spangled Banner for them. I think less than half of the Amercian population knows all the words to that song. Good thing I'm one of them, hunh?

And I got a note from a friend that made me feel really good. She said that I completely changed her idea of the typical American, after being offended by the media and our idiot politicians. Someone now thinks better of America because of me. That. Thats really nice to hear, you know?

Sometimes, though, I feel like a selfish asshole because I don't get teary during big goodbyes. I'm not really sentimental, period. Its really strange. I actually will get excited/scared/sad/whatever a few days before the big event. And then once the big upheaval occurs, I'm like, 'Alrighty then. Enough wibbling, lets do this!'

Although, somehow? I don't think my homecoming thing can really be experianced ahead of time. So I may just drop like a shot bird the moment I realize that everyone around me is speaking English.

But anyway. French school was never my favorite thing, but this one beat the Catholic school I had to attend in September by a fucking landslide. The 9 hour days were rough, and while it got easier to ignore, you never really forgot. I thought I was going to die at the start of it, and there were days in the later months where I wasn't any less convinced. But this school gave me my network of friends, and really, gave me less class hours. I was there for 9 hours, but I never had class all the day. Sure, the library ladies grated on my nerves, and some days, air molecules grated on my nerves. But all in all, school wasn't too bad.

THANK GOD ITS DONE.

So. I've bid my friends goodbye, because chances are good that I'll never see them again. And when the final bell rang, I ran like hell.

Woah.

Jun. 11th, 2008 10:14 am
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Cigarette)
I learned yesterday that my assumptions about school were wrong. I had intended to muddle through the rest of this week and the first three days of the next, only to find out that tommorrow, Thurday, is our last day of class.

Why does no one tell me these things?

So, as of tommorrow, I bid this school fare-the-fuck-well. And then I'm done.
Hunh. An unexpected treat. Now what am I gonna do with myself?

And, hey. You wanna know what makes you feel like Superman and a stalker all at the same time? Google Earth. Serious powertrip, my friends, in a slightly creepy fashion.

btw, totally goofing off in History class, why do you ask?

PS: Reading J2 mpreg and not laughing out loud in class? Physically painful.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Default)
Fuck me, its cold.

I have a band concert in 3 hours. One of those hours will be spent here. The second of which will be spent practicing, as if we didn't meet at 8 at night yesterday to do just that. And the third will be spent eating.

I don't enjoy the French way of eating. Its, hey, look! food!, eat for about two minutes, and the talk for a solid half hour before moving onto the next course. ::rubs face::

Right, I hereby swear that after this, I quit clarinet for ever and good.
I've tried to quit so many times, its almost like I enjoy it.

Anyway, picspam.

20 Classic Dean Winchester Faces

Serious faceacting that I wish to eat and absorb.

In a strictly non-cannabilistic way, because yeah.

And then theres:

20 Classic Sam Winchester Faces

The big sister in me says, 'Oh Jesus, do I know those looks.'


Also, who else feels my pain trying to find hardcore, minor-key rock?
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Cigarette)
Yes, I have returned from the depths of emo, relatively intact. I'm keeping track of my low moments, and they seem to follow bouts of low sleep and less food.

I sense a connection... but what?

Actually, I was moping midway through Geo class, and the teacher comes up to me with a map we're supposed to fill out to his specifications and asks, 'So, do you want to learn more about the region?'
I wasn't paying attention, and didn't even look up from my Sudoku before saying, 'No.'
The whole class started laughing and I realized what I'd said, and shortly after that, realized that I didn't care. The teacher has always rubbed me the wrong way. Theres something smug about his voice. So it didn't take me long to realize that being the spoiled American in this case was actually paying off. I got to snub that guy with a deadpanned expression, and didn't have to do that friggin map.

Win/win, bitches! The Sterotypical American in me begins to show its face! And it feels suspiciously like whipping out the pocket-bitch. Hmmm...

And you wanna know what feels better? CWRPS schmoop!

There's A Piece of the Puzzle...

Its... teeth-achingly sweet. Like a whole lotta cotton candy.

And I love me some cotton candy.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Get me coffee!)
My complaints, let me show you them.

1) I am really having trouble with sleep lately. Its just hard to turn off a night. I don't even think abot stuff, I just can't get to sleep. Sudoku helps, but I took a nap yesterday and therefore got about 4 hours of sleep last night. This is all really just SSDD, but its not fun how nothing is changing.

2) This fucking weather. It has been raining for two solid weeks now, on and off, drizzling without a hint of sunlight. So I am crippled from the femurs down. I can barely walk right. My bones, joints, and head ache in tandem.

3) I can't eat. Even when I want to. Just the thought of food makes me sick, and I haven't eaten today. I'm hungry, but that doesn't mean anything.

The main problem with this is that the school food in crap. Its greasy, its heavy, and I'd rather gnaw on tree bark. The only things I can really eat with any enthusiasm are fruit, veggies, and the occasional shot of sugar. That really can't be healthy, but I dunno what the hell to do about it.

4) I have an empty stomache right now, and all I can think of is maybe if I make myself throw up, I can go home. I am so tired of school. So tired. I have given up on even paying the slightest bit of attention to even the classes I like. I sit in my seat, and I play Sudoku. That is my day.
Its not awesome. I AM BORED OUT OF MY SKULL.

5) Touching.
The French touch. A lot. In the morning, you kiss one another. All day, you hug and hang off each other, and gather around to stand in little groups for no reason whatsoever. You don't even go to the bathroom by yourself. Ever.
And I cannot take much more.
I dread every morning, because I have to touch cheeks with my friends. Its no reflection upon them. I just can't stand the thought of it, and can barely make myself do it. Half the time I pretend to be sick, just to deter some of them. When I do greet them in the proper French fashion, my cheeks itch until I wipe them off. I twitch hard when someone pats my arm. I can barely make myself sit next to anyone in class, because our elbows touch. Holding hands or hugging makes me want to scream.

I'm wearing yesterday's colthes because I was too damn cold and apathetic last night to change into pajamas when I'd just have to change back in a couple of hours. I haven't picked up a book all week. I listen to my mp3 player nonstop, whenever I can. My stomache hurts, I need a shower, I need to eat something, and I just want to curl up somewhere and cry.

I've had enough of France. I'm sick of the language, even though I'm fluent. I'm tired of the food. I hate the pack mentality. I detest the petty tyrants that run this school. I am so goddamn sick of this weather.

I want to be warm. I want to feel better. I want to be surrounded by my own language. I want a hug from my mother.

I want to quit whining.

14 days.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Cigarette)
Yesterday was the French equivalent to Senior's Last Day.

Anyone remember what they did then?

Neither do I, other than cutting through a cat's skull with a bone saw.

But the French seniors get to do something that I admire them for. They come to school, dressed up as... I'm not sure what the theme was. Maybe who you wanted to be when you grew up. One girl was Darth Vader, on guy a nun, so... My personal favorites were the girls who dressed, respectivley, as an indian, a cowboy, a construction worker, and a train conductor. And they had, you guessed it, the letters Y, M, C, and A printed on their backs.

But it was what happened at the end of the day that really won me over. The kids laid in wait, outside the gates of the school. And when the bell rang, they pelted the students, indescriminately, with water balloons, confettii, and water buckets. I got hit by one that had been kindly filled with dirt as well as H20. Charmers. In earlier years, the students had been known to throw flour, shaving cream, and eggs. Aiming for a specific few teachers.

I found this awesome. Especially when my bus driver used the opportunity to dump a bottle of water on a group of particuarly troublesome kids once they'd been seated on the bus.

So, yeah. I have discovered a great respect for the French children's ability to play. Its nice to know that when you grow up here, you don't always get your soul sucked out.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Get me coffee!)
I'm not in school today.

Don't look at me like that, this is only the second time in 10, thats right, 10 months that I've been home sick from school. The first time was indeed to piss off my host family and catch up on my sleep, but this time I actually do feel like death warmed over, and have for days.

Colds. They suck. Especially when it seems that I'm going to emulate my mother even more by losing my voice, once a year, for years.

Seriously, she did it every year, usually around October. It was around this time of year when I lost my voice last year, and I am well on my way to losing it for this one.

Fuck.

Well, the good news is that I have a lot of tea to back me up on this glorious... oh shit, it's Friday, 'innt it.

Hmm. Ah, whatever.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Cigarette)
My day, school-wise, was made of AIDS and fail. Have you ever had one of those low-grade colds that just makes you sniffle like once or twice over the course of a week, and then suddenly one morning, BAM you're swallowing glass?

Yeah, that was me. I have drunk so much damn tea, I know my heart is gonna start palipatating. That hurts, too.

Anyway, I zombieshuffled home to find salvation. A package from home. It was a small one, as these things go, but it would be pointless to send over massive amounts of stuff when I'm just going to be shipping home in less than a month. (29 days, if you wanna get technical.)

While it gifted me with a new book, a rare creature in my world, it also had a ton of info on UWF and Pensacola. Looking through the brochures and rose-tinged sales bids, I feel pretty good about going there. (the April Fool's edition of the campus paper helped with that one.) It really is a beautiful campus, and I can navigate just fine on a bike, my favorite kind of situation. The only real kind of driving I like is highway driving. In July I have to report for two days for an orientation. The literature is all, 'exciting transition' and 'adjustment' and I'm like, 'Bitch, please.' About a year ago, I would have been your typical scared-stiff freshman, but now I'm all tough and shit. Dorm rooms and meal plans hold no horrors for me. The food on the other hand...

The coolest goodies in this package were two CDs my sisters and mother made for Spring Break. The first one has your typical road songs, southern rock songs, and pop headbanging songs. And the second one is the one that we cannot let my grandmother listen to. Buck Cherry, Hoobastank, and Hinder, just to start. Most of the songs, the vulgarity kind of washes over you (well, maybe not Buck Cherry...). But it still bears sensoring for senior ears.

But for the first time, I got to hear the new Nickelback song that my sisters have been yammering about. It is quite sexy.

At least, I hope its Nickelback. I've been out of the loop for a while.

And this afternoon, I broke my demi-pack with myself and got a god damned haircut. I was tired of ponytail holders and bangs getting in my mouth and brushing. So my host mom called up one of her friends, who was an actual stylist but quit because she's allergic to hair dye, and she came over today, looked at me, and said, 'Lets do this.' LEEEROOOOOOOOY JENKINS I showed her pictures of past cuts of mine, and she was all, 'Thats nice dear, but you look like a boy.' And? But she went to town and 7 months worth of hair came the fuck off, and I look fabulous. Its the first time since I can remember that I liked my hair after it was cut. Its short, but not super-Floridian-Summer-Special short. And I still look like a girl! Which is nice, once and a while!

I also got my shipment home info. I'm gettin' on a train around five in the afternoon on the 19th, riding into Paris, and then shacking up in a hotel for the night. The next morning I crawl out of bed at o'dark thirty, and do the transatlantic thing. (motion sickness pills were also included in the package, so I will not have to curl up and die.) That night/morning/jetlagged-what-the-fuck-ever, I am back on American soil, and thus grounded for another day by airline politics bullshit. I snooze hard in another hotel, rise at an unknown time to fly into Atlanta, and then mosey my ass home, probably after five hours of delay and another two circling the Tallahassee airport, because I have never flown into Tallahassee without this happening.

So if you see me on that glorious day, do not headshot me, I am not a zombie. Swears.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Get me coffee!)
Alrighty then, it seems you can take a girl outta the South, but you cannot take the South outta her.

For English class, we're studying dictatorships, and the media these produce. Believe it or not, these kids have to study a passage from 1984.

For our last test on the subject, we have to compose a letter, via the guidelines on one Amnesty International, to the new president of Chile to urge her to abolish the Amnesty Law set down by Pinochet's regiem.

Now, I'm down with human rights and stuff, so long as no one is trying to make me stop eating meat or something.

But my class, via the internets, found a letter writing guide that had this to say:

Be Polite- Using offensive language is not effective. (No matter how much they deserve it.) Assume the official is not informed but is willing to seek a remedy to the human rights violation.

::ahem::

Y'all did catch that, right? An official network of do-gooders, publicly flinging their neutral position out the window to outright attack those who do not hold their beliefs.

Now, not every Amnesty International source uses those exact words, but one is enough, I think.

Again, I am down with human rights. The problems throughout the world concerning unfair, trial-less imprisonment, torture, and other fun things don't make me warm and fuzzy. But take that same advice and apply it to some of AI's other projects, like abolishing the death penalty, or witholding abortions from women unless they deserve it. (I'm not making that last one up, you can read it here.)

There is such a thing as pushing 'the pursuit of liberty' too far.

I also discovered that I was kinda proud of Florida following only Texas for the number of felons executed. I truely stand by Ron White when I say if you kill someone in our state, we'll kill ya back. We're a Stand Your Ground state and everything. AI can bitch about 'botched executions' and 'insufficient evidence' after the sentancing, and yes, we do make mistakes. But honestly, I don't think that a serial rapist/murderer needs therapy. He needs fucking rat poison.

Yes, I am a little suprised at my reaction to this. I've always figured myself to be a rather liberal person. But the thought of someone sneering at our country and its rules when they are what keep them safe at night... I get all redneck on them. I guess listening to a lot of French people scoffing at America turned me into a kind of defensive patriot. I'm a little freaked out.

Speaking of France, here's my next bit of news. Tomorrow, theres a strike at my school. Yes, going on strike is a national past time in France. But heres how they handle it in schools. Some teachers don't participate. So its your job to figure out how many of your teachers are gonna strike, and if its worth coming to school anyway.

I am the queen of shirking, so I get the dirt quick. Heres a little math problem for ya.

Dami's schedual on a normal Thursday is 1 hour of Math, 1 hour of Latin, 2 hours of no class, 1 hour of lunch, 1 hour of History/Geography, 1 hour of English, and 2 hours of French.

This Thursday her Math, French, and English teachers will be on strike. Also, the cafeteria will be closed, so there will be no lunch for anyone, and the school library will be closed, so there will be no way to kill time.

In light of all of this, is there a chance in hell that Dami will stir her lazy butt up at 6:30 in the morning for a grand total of 2 hours of class, with no lunch, to come home at 5 pm?

If you answered, Not in this fucking lifetime, you get a gold star.

And oh snap, tomorrow's Thursday. ::hides::
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (What is this fuckery?)
I've been singing that all day. No one gets it.

I'm not so much tired this morning as I am... slow. I had candy and tea for breakfast, so that could have something to do with it.

And now my brain is spinny. Yippee.

Life update: (or lack thereof) Um. This Thursday is no school, this coming Monday no school, this Friday is a field trip to Paris.
And a new episode of Supernatural airs this week.

So, life = not too bad.

Note to self: CALL PEOPLE, SHORT BUS.


In conclusion, herpes.
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Autumn Trees)
Okay, so in France, the First of May is a holiday. And because it takes place on a Thursday this year, and we don't go to school on Saturday (not unheard of in France), they gave us the day in the middle (see: Friday) off as well.

SCORE.

Only problem is that this gives me oppertunity to abuse the computer even longer with my Supernatural habit.

Which isn't working too well on Season 2 because megavideo doesn't host it. Dammit.

Faster, actually working hosts needed... Come on, internets, don't fail me now...
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Fridge)
So, ya'll are probably munching Peeps, gnawing on the ears of chocolate rabbits, and keeping an eye out for oversized, egg-bearing bunnies.

Lemme tell ya'll how we celebrate in France.

Snow, snickerdoodles, Zapps, computer cables, and blood.

So, I wake up this morning and look out the window. And it is pouring down snow. I got video of it.

And then I open my box that the family sent. AND I GOTS STUFF. Like books, and snickerdoodles, and Zapps, and OMG, YUSS! So breakfast consisted of cookies and Crawtater flovered chips.

And then I cammed my stash and the snow, and fought with the downloading process.

And then I sat down to watch The Mist. )

So. Thats the blood. And now I crave more cookie...

Happy Easter!
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">) (Fridge)
Or, you could, but prepare to get Breathalyzed.


1) Recall the lines you read last night about John Sheppard being a bit astonished about the sudden appearance of a dragon.

2) Getting the opening scene of Serenity stuck in your head, complete with Jayne whining, "I don't wanna explode."

3) Wonder what would happen if you could magically conjure a gom jabbar.

4) Getting the line, "Bring in the floating fat man!" stuck in your head.

5) Start beating out the bass line from The White Stripes' Seven Nation Arm on your desk.

6) Draw aliens attacking the school in your paper margins.

7) Get bubble gum stuck on your nose from a truely magnificent bubble.


You shouldn't do any of these things, because to burst out in fits of hysterical giggles in a dead silent classroom is not a good way to convince France that Americans aren't crazy by default.
God help my country, if I'm its ambassador.

Hey now!

Feb. 27th, 2008 09:46 pm
zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Dr. Who Meets 3D)
Goddamn you, French television!

I could be watching Doctor Who right now!

Or Torchwood, which has moar Jack!

A Jack being more openly bisexual since the kiss in Doctor Who. We're talkin' beating Queer as Folk gay here, people.

... AND DID ANYONE ELSE KNOW THAT JOHN CONSTATINE WAS BISEXUAL?!

Dammit, the times are catching up with me. If this keeps going, soon the gay will be everywhere, and that wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

I would have to quit...


...


Naaaaah.

Profile

zfreelance: (<lj site="livejournal.com"  user="timepunching">) (Default)
UNICORN MAGIC

October 2012

S M T W T F S
 1 2 3 456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 22nd, 2017 06:41 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios