epic fail with respect to food by means of microwave
Corn + tomatoes = epic fail. Just remember that. THEY DO NOT MIX.
And now, ladies and gentlemen... *drumroll*
RTD is clearly a fanboy of intergalactic proportions. While I have been waiting for that slo-mo-running running-towards-each-other look-of-astonished-delight scene since the end of Season 2, still...
I feel like a whiny bitch for it, but something in me is really disappointed in that scene, in the same way I was disappointed when I read Deathly Hallows. It was awesome, but exactly what I predicted.
*Sigh* I drool over spoilers and comb the internet for a hint of something, anything, about the next book or episode or whatever, but then I complain about my lack of surprise. There ya go, ladies and gentlemen. My personality in a nutshell.
And even though it was horrible and morbid, I was quite gleeful when the Dalek told Harriet Jones, "Yes. We know who you are."
This post's title is due to the lingering aftereffects of translating Vergil all year. Once Latin gets into your head, it never leaves. Even if you forget all the vocabulary you will still snicker madly at obscure grammar usages.
The room-cleaning continues, with help from the Clash and The Vincent Black Shadow.
And now, ladies and gentlemen... *drumroll*
RTD is clearly a fanboy of intergalactic proportions. While I have been waiting for that slo-mo-running running-towards-each-other look-of-astonished-delight scene since the end of Season 2, still...
I feel like a whiny bitch for it, but something in me is really disappointed in that scene, in the same way I was disappointed when I read Deathly Hallows. It was awesome, but exactly what I predicted.
*Sigh* I drool over spoilers and comb the internet for a hint of something, anything, about the next book or episode or whatever, but then I complain about my lack of surprise. There ya go, ladies and gentlemen. My personality in a nutshell.
And even though it was horrible and morbid, I was quite gleeful when the Dalek told Harriet Jones, "Yes. We know who you are."
This post's title is due to the lingering aftereffects of translating Vergil all year. Once Latin gets into your head, it never leaves. Even if you forget all the vocabulary you will still snicker madly at obscure grammar usages.
The room-cleaning continues, with help from the Clash and The Vincent Black Shadow.