I'll make a deal with you

I will make one petty, bitter, whining post in which I vent the enormous amounts of envy and cabin fever and boredom being elicited by the awesomeness that is the schedules for ComicCon and PXCON and Millicon and Dragon*Con and all other Cons that the universe is attending because they live on continents not in the middle of the ocean at the bottom of the world, or they have money, or they are not staring ahead at the next four years of no income and academic schedules which never overlap with the American academic schedules because the world is stupid and sometimes places one as far away as physically possible from a whole lot of really cool people who only have to drive over state lines to meet each other.

(As you may have already guessed, this is that post.)

ADKJHDSKASKNMXNBAMGDASANMCDHAHDJSAS I HATE YOU ALL. NOT REALLY. YOU KNOW.

There.

You will not hear a single futher peep out of me on the subject.

make me SPN icons, bitches!

So I'm reading An Experiment in Love by Hilary Mantel, because I long ago stopped resisting Ji's efforts to dictate my literary consumption, and I'm really liking it in a slow, dangerous way. It's kind of like Sylvia Plath invited Jeanette Winterson over for tea and crumpets and girlkissing and instead they ended up hitting each other with sticks.

The only other occurence of note is that I have managed to overcome several inner obstacles such as a deep dislike for the horror genre and the fact that I overidentify with Dean to the point of sheer irritation, and am now hopelessly and pathetically in love with SPN.

If I do end up shipping them I am blaming setissma WHOLLY AND ENTIRELY because she is a sneaky fiend who springs things like Sam-doped-up-on-painkillers and psychic pillowfights upon the unsuspecting reader.

Re: subject line, I will drabble absolutely anything of the artist's choice if anyone chooses to take me up on that offer, and I do mean anything.