Restart button? Where's the resart button?!

Thank god all I did was eat fish today.

I was trying to go until Christmas before I got bored enough to post here.

Take that.

Waiting for the battery to die on my laptop finds me here, on the floor at family night. At least I am on the floor in the kitchen.

Two things:
Kubuntu
Torque

Ponder these two words and marvel at their brilliance.

Holy Hell.

C: Go with god.
A: Bless your heart.

I need sleep.

Last night while enjoying some quality time at the Queenshead, some music came on.

Short Dick Cuizi by Yel

I'm going crazy trying to find this song. My dilemma: no music sharing software of any kind. Also: she's french and I don't know if google is trying some crazy shit on me with their french speak or what.

So I'm praying for a Christmas miracle that someone randomly has this song or knows where I can find it.

Christmas, finally solid, as it stands:

Eve
-sleep in
-catch GO train to Pickering
-have lunch with Paul's family at the Mandarin
-return to Cobourg
-find D & C for Harwoody goodness
-Harwoody goodness
-Paul goes back to Cobourg, I stays and cuddles and drinks

Day
-back to Cobourg
-try not to kill mom
-catch up with M
-at least call S, maybe stop by if she is home
-more stuff with Paul's family
-back to Toronto

Comments, amendments and corrections will be considered, but for now I am pleased.

On a bad day, simple things like a delivery service makes me exceptionally happy.

Of course, the above statement is dependent upon what is being delivered. If it were, say, poisonous two-headed snakes in a gift wrapped box, I would be not so happy with delivery.

Ah, my beautiful door. Gone are the days of kicking you open because you were never really closed anyway. Gone the times you randomly swung open, allowing bad little kittens inside.

Today, my sweet door, today you close. Your lock works, and if I only had a key I would slide it into your hole and caress your depths with it.

9, 12, 12, 1, 14, 3, 7, 18, 21, 5000, 3, 11, 6

I'm too awake for the amount of sleep I've gotten. Reading? Nono, the house just filled with people.

Ah, shawshack, you roxor my soxor.

Dear George R. R. Martin,

I hope you're fucking happy.

Ass.

Sincerely,
Trish

P.S.
When is your next book coming out?

Scaraborough Town Centre is not the place where I would have chosen to have a PA.

Indirect consequence: I am not turning my cellphone back on for awhile.

I'll write down any numbers I might need, and use a freakin' payphone.

And now, the pasta.