Ungh. Or: My Ongoing Battle Against Fandom Atop Fandom Plus

So, what's on my list? Hornblower. Due South. Austen. Master and Commander (which I already know well, but want to get further into). The first two of those are going to eat me as soon as I let them; the third will scarf up what's left, and the fourth will just sit there playing Euphemistic Duets until I next show up in the O'Br section of either library's adult fiction.

And yet? ( Now my da's doing his damnedest to get me hooked on Tom Clancy! )

Now, I love my dad, and I love the chats we have about this, and the thought of having something to really connect with him about (though we're already infamous for splitting off at the dinner table and squawking about spinnakers, etc.) is a wonderful thing, but...

I'M ONLY ONE PERSON!




...hullo, this is me, complaining about how bloody nice my life is. could someone please slap me?

thanks.

(no subject)

This. Is my dress, This is my dress. Won't you please look at my dress this is. This is my... dress this is my dress. Won't you look at my dress I will shut up...

Now have "This Is My House" stuck in my head. Flash animations, yergh.

Anyway. Above, some very bad quality shots taken by me in a full-length mirror of the successful hoop skirt. Well, with the dress over it, actually. And myself in it. Um... just look; I need my tea.