Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Countdown: 145 days
Oh, look, it's yet another round of "RPS is EEEEEEEEEEEEVIL!" I do enjoy this so. I say enjoy, I actually mean I tolerate it. I say tolerate, what I actually do is, I take the dullest pencil I can find, jam it into my brain through my ear, and wiggle it around to the tune of sk8terboi.
Okay, I'll stop the Mark Lamarr impression now, but really, people. You don't like RPS. We get the point! In fact, we got the point three fucking years ago, when RPS and RPF was still something that was hidden, written and shared in private e-mail only, like some shameful secret. You know what? Those days are over, and after three years, I think it's time people started dealing with that. Don't like RPF? Think it's immoral and wrong? Fine with me, just keep it out of my face unless you have an argument I haven't heard a few dozen times before already. No? Didn't think so.
In other news, I hereby propose Colin Powell be the only one allowed to speak for the USA in all matters concerning Iraq. At least when he's talking, I can believe he has some rational reason to want to attack Iraq. Not necessarily rational reasons I would agree with, but rational reasons nonetheless. This as opposed to Dubya -- every time I see him talk about the impending war, I just want to pat him on the head and tell him that "Yes, you're a very big boy. Now, why don't you run along and go play with your toys, and let the grown-ups handle this? There's a good monkey." Somehow, I don't think this is the sort of reaction I should be having to the commander of the most powerful military in the world. Right.
Oh, brilliant, I've French class today. I'm starting to remember why I disliked school. Meeeeh! Two hours of paying attention to a foreign language. Blah.
Spent most of Saturday cleaning, doing laundry, and dyeing my knickers and bras, plus a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. (Um. My black underwear had worn down to not-even-dark-grey, and I was tired of it. I'd also managed to spill hair bleach on one pair, leaving it stained. And the jeans were a very unbecoming washed-out-black. Now all my stuff is properly pitch black, the way it's meant to be.) Spent most of Sunday bumming around, watching TV and DVDs. Most noteably, U2's The Best of 1990-2000, with director's commentary, which includes gems such as "And there's Larry Mullen, having an expression for the first time in twenty years, heh." Heeee!
And speaking of TV, my suspicion agains Conny is rising. Although my niggling feeling about Stijn has not subsided, on the contrary. And call me a bitch, but woo! Nicole is gone! I didn't like her. Too whiny.
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