A Short Analysis of Why Kat Ought Not to Ski

Whenever I go skiing, it seems that something dreadful happens/has just happened in that horridly barren and twisted and occasionally frighteningly lush amalgamation of deceit and sentimentality that I deign to call my love life. (You know, at first I was just going to say the last bit, but I'm afraid that just, "my love life," does not do this particularly nasty specimen justice.) Damn it all to hell.

I cannot check my email and I desperately need to and for some reason its not working and ohgodohgodohgod.

DAMNIT.

There is nothing to do about this torridly horrifyingly horrid horror but listen to She Want Revenge and Shakira and read slash. Slash. It saves my soul. (Actually, no, no it doesn't. Slash has actually insured that I go to HELL. I will be happy to take any one of you with me by linking you to good slash, smutty or otherwise. No charge. I take pleasure in playing Mephistopheles.

God, there's this stupid humidifier behind me and it keeps making gurgling noises and it sounds like it wants to EAT ME I SWEAR. The thing is murderous.

AUUUGH SOMEONE PLEASE TO BE EXPLAINING GIRLS TO ME KTHNXBAI.

Actually, it's not the girl who needs an explanation, it's me. PLEASE TO BE EXPLAINING KAT TO ME KTHNXBAI.

I am so very, very, very miserable and confused and aarrrgh. Don't worry, no rapey sestina angst this time, as I unfortunately find myself playing Lord Henry Wotton to someone else's Dorian Gray. (Actually, more of their Basil Hallward, but who the hell cares? Aside from Basil Hallward. EEE BASIL.)

She Wants Revenge makes it a little better. That and my Holmes/Watson novel of d00m. Actually, I lie. The Baker Street boys remind me too much of Her, She who is referred to in Capital Letters.

Why do I continue skiing if it only brings disaster upon myself and my fellows, is what I want to know.

Quote of the Day

"T-A-N-G-O. Not, I repeat, not, M-A-N-G-O. They are different things entirely."

-Dr. G-P, pointing out to me what I must admit is a valid point. Plus, I must admit that it was rather foolish of me to think that she wants Thad and I to choreograph a mango/hip-hop fusion number.

Affection and angst and anachronism and oooh, aphids and alphabets and aardvarks,
SH