for all you girl detectives out there

This I.P. is so remarkably G. All icons, all the time.

(And three more Nanc-y-cons, just because I wanted to make them. I'd even say want-take-have if there was anyone with icon shortage out there. But. Right.)

Dreams seem to be the thing today, but I'll still refrain from telling about me and Niles Crane at the department store, and me and Willow in my parents' bedroom, and me and Mr. Darcy in prison, and me and Tom Cruise at the ice rink, and me and Ridge Forrester at the ski resort, because, you know? Boring even myself here.

(and)

Stopped by at the store for last minute shopping. Kids buying kiddiecandy and me buying my almostgrownupcandy. This feels like the sort of a night when one ought to drink sparkling things and smoke in the apartment and play music loud!loud! and what am I going to do? Answer emails, finish rereading Harry Effing Potter. (I don't really hate him that much, I don't. Essays still make me nervous.)

[Edited to mention that, oh god, oh god. I did it now. Put a bunch of people on my friends list, randomly, just. like. that. all on my own. I'd really feel ever so much better if it was called "The list of people whom I don't know and who certainly don't know me, but whose LJs I read anyway, so there, and isn't this at least a little less stalkerish of me?" - I have issues. Do I ever. I hate irreversibility.]

[And then to mention that as I'm rewarding myself for this brave (or foolish, maybemaybe I liked it quiet) feat by updating the interests list, I notice to my great satisfaction that the term 'boyslash' has much grown in popularity since I last looked at it. Say, you want a revolution? I see it coming, it's on its way.]

[And Harry Potter? And Harry Potter? - I want to die now.]

[And.]

[Why am I not working? I seek advice from the Book itself. "Have some bacon or something." I think I should.] [Or I could bake a cake, or write poetry, because, this thing here. Is not working. It's not me, it's the thing. Please make me shut up.]