bubosquared | (no subject)

Wow

So my mum bought me this scarab-shaped pocket watch thingie for Saint Nicholas, and I accidentally washed it today. Took my load of all-black laundry out, found the watch, freaked ... and then noticed the damn thing was still running. Washed, spin cycled, and it's still ticking along. I am in awe of your resilientness, little scarab watch.

Mind Control Waves From Wisconsin

A copy of Master and Commander has mysteriously appeared in my flat. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.) I guess I'll be watching homoerotic sailors tomorrow. The hardship! Woe!

Am Besieged By Bunnies. Send Help.

So I'm reading this book called Rubicon, by Tom Holland, about the glory days and the downfall of the Roman Republic, and it's a really good book, definitely something to pick up if you're interested in this sort of thing. Tom Holland's style reminds me of my favourite history teacher's: he relates history as a story, rather than as a series of facts, and he's actually managed to make me giggle out loud with some of his phrasings.

Not only does he refer to one of Cicero's speeches as "Cicero could nevertheless bitch that [...]" and maybe that's only deeply amusing and gratifying when you've spent an entire year trying to translate the bastard's speeches, but I personally did the fist-pumping thing at that. Also: "While Pompey lorded it over the East, the man he had replaced indulged himself in the most flamboyant sulk in history." Bwahahaha!

It's also very nice and heavy, and hardback, which comes in handy when Mr Holland so nicely mentions all the scandals involving homosexuality and you start getting all OTP-y. Of course, me being me, do I pick as my OTP one of the near-canonical couples like Mark Anthony and Scipio, or something involving Julius Caesar, manslut of Rome (no, seriously)? No, I go and OTP Pompey/Crassus. That's right, the golden boy and his arch rival. Excuse me for a moment ...

*whacks self in the face with book*

*WHACK*

*WHA--* OW! Ack! Nonono, no bunnies on my ankles! *frantically attempts to squish bunny with book*

Bunny: *is undaunted, attempts to morph into Pompey/Crassus/Caesar bunny*

Aieeeee! *flees*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*hoists you over shoulder, heads for church*

Dude, even Duff, who is way taller than I am (and this is excpetional; I'm taller than half of Metallica, most of *NSync, and possibly all of U2) looks like I could carry him under one arm. Skinny motherfuckers, all of 'em.

I think Duff would be the kind of person who you'd have to push really hard to anger, but once you've pushed too far, they go into this sort of ... quiet, cold, almost calculated anger. Which kinda freaks Slash out cause he's used to his and Axl's screaming matches, you know, very loud, lots of "fuck"s, doors slamming, plates flying, but Duff just pins him against the wall and ... just looks at him and it's sending chills down his spine, and he's not sure if it's fear or something else.