::zzzz::

Sotired.

Got up. Had breakfast. Sent an e-mail gross-out bomb to bear, in retaliation for her insidious pimpage of Potterfic, inviting her to ( picture this: )

Shopped for goddaughter's present. Drove to Kingston (2 hours). Had a fight an intense discussion on the way. Got there at 4. Helped organize party room and take kids to pool and watch kids in pool and change kids after pool and serve pizza, cake & juice and coordinate toy unwrapping and cleaning up party and drove back to goddaughter's house and spent an hour or so there and drove home.

Highlights: birthday girl (just turned seven) opens a bag holding one of her first gifts, eyes widen, big grin, and she pulls out: "Batteries!! Oh, cool!! I can use these for one of my toys, right Papa?"
"I think there might be something else in that bag, sweetie. Like, a toy."

Birthday dad commenting on the end of the party, after we'd tossed dirty paper plates and located swimsuits and sent everyone home: It's like the end of a college kegger; you know, there's three plates that aren't broken, and somebody left behind a pair of panties.

Got home at midnight. Kids to bed. Checked e-mail. Vicious retaliation by bear: links to at least three Potter fics and two authors, and a horrifying threat to use the above visualisation as inspiration. Damn you, bear. Damn. You.


... now following the links she sent...

fic has eaten my brain

Slogging through yet another article for Globalisation, this one on Martin's attitude towards the US and foreign policy. Skimming rapidly, I read "Martin has yet to show he is really serious ... shows more motion than progress ... a lot of talk these days about values ... Pierre Pettigrew, the foreign affairs minister - bzuh? When did Wormtail turn francophone and join the cabinet? And does that make Martin Voldemort - arg!! Out!! OUT, damned fic-brain, OUT!!!"

tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk

... still reading/writing about the G20 and the L20 and America's stubborn obstructionism when it comes to global welfare and Canada's smug self-congratulatory idealistic rhetorical prowess coupled with practical paralysis regarding same. At one point, reading some decidedly British-dialect papers, I recalled a story of a British teenager, hanging out with a bunch of Canadian teens, who leaned back in his seat in weariness and said with deep feeling, "God, I need a fag!!"

!!

?!

??!!

said the Canadians.

Blink blink.

"You know, a fag. I left my pack at home. Anybody have one? Oh, and a lighter, too?"