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I'm still getting whiffs of the Xiuhtecuhtli this morning. Happy oranges are mighty. Happy oranges may also make my skin try to spontaneously combust--the moral is, perfume goes in the hair, not on the cleavage.

Not many words yesterday, between work, spontaneous combustion, and boy-retrieval. Today the boy will be trapped in the car with me, so I'll try to talk out a few kinks in the Dread Middle of Dreams. The crazy dream story inches along, still in need of a title. All the characters are in the grip of some sort of unnatural lassitude, which is weird to write.

Err... What else was I going to say?

I need coffee. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of a bear .

baaaah

ETA: Oopsy. Will teach me to scroll down all the way.

Chernobyl the Chilean kicking-duck





and Llenore, the llavender (and possibly Welsh) llama.

...

Someone needs to stop Uwe Boll for the good* of all mankind.

Does White Wolf need the money that badly?**


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* I couldn't finish this movie. I. Could. Not. Finish. This movie.

** Well, probably, yeah. But still!