freckles_and_doubt | naughty monkey

One of these fine days I'm going to wake up all Sid-ravaged, force down some breakfast to armour my stomach against the anti-inflammatories, stagger blearily into my bathroom to grope for the Advil, and not immediately drop one down the basin plughole. Apart from the fact that this butterfingers tendency is almost doubling my Advil quota and causing the nice chemist man to look at me narrowly every time I buy another pack, it adds insult to injury to contemplate the fact that the basin drain system must have the most decongested, least inflamed tubes on the planet. There's no justice.

In other news: new Guild episode, first in Season 4, and Fawkes is still prevalent, yay! I find myself hopelessly rooting for the Fawkes/Codex relationship: they're both so screwed up, but I can't help feeling that if they could only synchronise their separate rare moments of functionality, they'd be good together. (And a cynical voice of internal reason with considerable experience in my romantic history enquires, sarcastically, "Projecting much?"). The Season 4 trailer is all over the show, try here. "Naughty monkey sex" is my new favourite phrase. (Alternatively, ignore all of the above. Am I the lone voice of Guild fandom in this corner of the internets? It is a sad and isolate state. It's also leaving me with a sneaking desire to try WoW, except that that, probable enrichment of my internet lectures notwithstanding, that way madness lies).

Right, vampire Snow Whites beckon, although they're not going to get the attention they deserve until the bloody Advil kicks in. I find it doubly unfair that the sinus headache tendency seems to have joined forces with the dear little clockwork-regular PMT headache, causing a monthly 2-day epic double-whammy - hormonal headache plus concrete skull symptoms, not pretty. It's all making me seriously consider the nice operation thing where they scrape out your sinuses, which sounds icky but which may be a tenable alternative to all this business of dropping pills down the sink. And whinging at the internets. Dear internets, you're such a comfort to me.