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11 August 2003 @ 05:33 am
So... anyway...  
I went to work and it was kind of boring and I was tired and I had a lousy selling day. PLUS, I am now an interesting shade of pink, despite best efforts of sunscreen and umbrella, due to the medication which pretty much zaps what few defences I have 'gainst the bloody sun.

I can't sleep, though I'd like to.

"I am a losergeek, crazy with an evil streak." Haha, and there we have the Everclear lyric that pretty much sums up my personality.

I wish the little pornography bunnies in my head would just write themselves. Marty/George (all the Marty/George), Thin Man/Eric Knox/Seamus O'Grady, Natalie/Madison (you knew it was there, hahaha), ummmm... Willard/Socrates... :D Okay, I think that's all the porn that my mind has been vomiting out. However, were I to actually write all of that it would be... six stories or so? Plus I've got four starts of non-porny things.

And then there's this PotC... thing:


Standing next to Elizabeth Swann made one feel a bit like a mongrel dog, though Anamaria was too proud to admit this. She was product of a good, strong sea-faring family. Never mind that she also had the blood from a bit of nearly every race to settle in the Caribbean flowing through her veins.
“Ah, lassie,” Gibbs had sighed on one of the occasions when he’d caught her staring. “She might be a bit pretty, but y’know it’s us mutts what got the brains and the skills to be doin’ somethin’ that so few men can.” He had then paused as realization dawned. “Er… and wimmen too, yes, some wimmen. Wimmen like you.” He’d winked at her. “Practically a man yerself, I’d say. Tha’s why we ain’t been struck down yet.” Anamaria had done nothing but roll her eyes heavenward. Gibbs had only been trying to help, but he had an exasperating habit of saying exactly the wrong thing.
Because Anamaria had scoffed at pale Elizabeth with her flowing blonde curls and pouted red lips. She was so ferociously out of her element on the sea, so fragile-looking and inappropriate on a pirated ship amongst the men that Anamaria had been forced to stifle a little giggle as she’d walked by. “Bit out of your depth, are we love?” She’d mock curtsied and looked up at Elizabeth from her lower vantage point. “’M afraid there ain’t no servants here, miss. ‘Tis every lord,” She’d grinned. “or lady for themselves.” And Elizabeth had said nothing, simply narrowed her eyes until long, dark lashes brushed her cheek and green cat’s eyes glared murderously back at Anamaria, who had stood and, in a sobered tone, whispered, “Go back to Port Royal, sweetheart.” She’d pursed her lips and leaned forward until her nose brushed Elizabeth’s . “This just ain’t a place for ladies.”

Wish that had someplace to go.

I just want the stupid ideas to get out before I forget them.
 
 
Current Mood: frustratedfrustrated