Potter's done it again: stuffed me to the point of complete and total inertia. This time, it involved steak, shrimp, salsa and melted cheese rolled up in warm tortillas. For a meal lacking in bacon, he did rather well. I don't know why Potter hasn't cottoned on to the fact that when he does this, I become entirely useless, and therefore he is ( Read more... )

My bollocks are driving me absolutely mad. Due to Christmas ejaculating all over the house thanks to Potter and his holiday fetish I foolishly allow to go unchecked each year, there was an abundance of mistletoe laying about. I had the ingenious idea to tie a sprig around my bits to tease Potter, and now I look like some sort of pervert who can't ( Read more... )

Suffice it to say that my plan to ease the innocent through certain trials and tribulations by means of a sleeping draught haven't been quite as successful as I'd hoped.  Noting the sharp irony, I blame lack of proper sleep for failing to recognize that the blend of potion ingredients that might keep a human unconscious for a period of time may ( Read more... )

Potter has made stew. I can no longer move without fear of sloshing like a cauldron of . . . partially digested stew. Naturally, this has made me irresistible to every ankle-biter in the house with a penchant to launch themselves directly onto the torso of unsuspecting victims ( Read more... )

And I'm amazed that Potter hasn't yet been sniffing around trying to figure it out. This means I've kept him adequately distracted this week, which is quite an undertaking in and of itself ( Read more... )

I hadn't expected to be a part of the September first crowd milling about Platform 9 3/4 for a few years yet, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise to prepare me for the day My Angel abandons me for the sake of her magical education. I likely won't perform as admirably as I did on Thursday, but that's rather to be expected. At any rate, all ( Read more... )

Perhaps biting off far more than we could chew, it was decided that on a mild, hopefully uncrowded weekday morning, Potter and I (and our army of helpers) would take our passel of orphans to Diagon Alley to stock up on school necessities. I bribed Mother to mind our own beasties during the outing, and thank Merlin for that, else we surely would ( Read more... )

What do you want?

As of yesterday, 17 June, Granger and Weaselby officially became the proud owners of something that shall drain their reserves of sleep and patience, as well as their modest Gringotts account. I hadn't anticipated such a quick turnaround when I set the post-fundraiser ban on adoptions (to drive away the fickle sort who would balk at any delay in ( Read more... )

I don't know why I've developed the habit of purposely ignoring the possibility of doom and destruction, and instead choose to only see the potential for the good, warm and fuzzy. Saddling myself with the poster boy for Gryffindor probably hasn't helped, all things considered ( Read more... )