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THANK YOU jennnlee!

She has sent me a hat! And not just any hat. Oh no. It is a Jayne hat, and it fits, and is oddly comfortable. I can envisage myself wearing it around the hat. Even better, I am hopefully going to see Serenity this Saturday (maybe, depends on this and that) so I shall have my hat and it shall be fabulous. Also, she sent popcorn, which means that the house can snack on something sweet that isn't Tesco's Extra Value Chocolate Digestives.

Yummy.

And THANK YOU mettanna! I am the Post Queen.

That cheered my day right up, although I found myself really enjoying my lecture this morning. I suspect I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't fallen asleep doing the preperatory reading last night and as such slept in and had to skip breakfast. Bad Colleen!

Speaking of Bad Colleen, I am going to go and do some work now. I finished my lectures at 11, and all I've done is buy some cheese and milk, made a Toastie Of Awesomisity (cheese, onion and mushroom) and picked up the hat. Must do my Spanish, and also must do my history prep, because I will not do it this weekend, since will be at Cambridge and whatnot.

Right-o. Work. Now. Also, this song makes me dance around happily.

~Hathy_Col~

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Instead of doing my Spanish homework, I signed up for NaNoWrimo because I am evidently BATSHIT INSANE. I spend November writing 50,000 words? Sure! Sounds great to me! Oh, by the way, did I mention that my essays are all in for November and that chances are I won't even be around a computer for a good week in November?

...

I am, evidently, batshit insane. Sorry all.

eta: I knew I had something to update about, spurred on my writing thing. I had the most fucked-up dream ever last night. For some reason, I was at Woodstock, (ums, the festival, not the shop in Quiggins, obviously) which is weird enough on its own merits. I was there with my housemates - as you do - and I was introduced to this long and lanky long with sort of shaggy hair and dark glasses. We talk, he flirts with me and invites me back to his tent. I quietly tell him that I'm taken and really not interested.

Housemates and I go and see a band or something and I bump into this guy again. "By the way," he says. "My name's Neil Gaiman."

"Really?" I say with a shrug. "I've only really read Good Omens."

And off I floated.

In my dream, a teenage Neil Gaiman propositioned me in Woodstock. As happens in my daily life, obviously. *shakes head at weird subconscious*

~Hathy_Col~

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Random request from me and housemates:

Potter Puppet Pals: The Musical Motion Picture. Where is the MP3? I cannot find it and it brings me pain! E-mail on hathor (underscore) sgc (at) hotmail (dot) com if you have it for I will FOREVER OWE YOU LIEK WHOA.

~Hathy_Col~