two_grey_rooms: (& put it on repeat)
dear internet:

if you are looking for trenchant commentary upon the inner-workings of humanity from a voluptuous and beautiful young woman, then you should read the livejournal of my dear friend, [livejournal.com profile] archy_the_roach. i have accomplished getting my fabulous rl friend phoebe to join the recesses of livejournal by alternately threatening her with physical harm and proffering sexual favors (the latter of which she vehemently declined). now she's harassing me into pimping her shit, so i suppose i shall perpetuate the cycle of affable abuse by commanding you to go friend the shit out of her, okay? just do it. or you'll displease tiny turtle. and no one wants that.

with love and death threats,
ellie
two_grey_rooms: (& put it on repeat)
dear internet:

if you are looking for trenchant commentary upon the inner-workings of humanity from a voluptuous and beautiful young woman, then you should read the livejournal of my dear friend, [livejournal.com profile] archy_the_roach. i have accomplished getting my fabulous rl friend phoebe to join the recesses of livejournal by alternately threatening her with physical harm and proffering sexual favors (the latter of which she vehemently declined). now she's harassing me into pimping her shit, so i suppose i shall perpetuate the cycle of affable abuse by commanding you to go friend the shit out of her, okay? just do it. or you'll displease tiny turtle. and no one wants that.

with love and death threats,
ellie
two_grey_rooms: (in this illusionary place)
So, today I was aiming to make a post about America's First President To Have Paraphrased Spider-Man And What He Means To Me, but I opted instead to go up to my room, to very quickly drop off my coat, and then somehow I found myself waking up twenty years later in the middle of the Catskill mountains with a crazy fuckin' beard and a revolution I knew nothing about underway in my motherland, and my wife is dead, and MY LIFE WAS LIKE TOTALLY OVER--

And then I decided to stop being Rip Van Winkle and study for my math test like the diligent little student I am. Even though it was almost six-o-fucking-clock, WHAT.

Which is what I did all day night, sans eat dinner, which is why I was going to go back to sleep without so much as a flist comment today, but my dad just came home from his Very Important Temple Gathering. Evidently, the featured film of his Very Important Moth-Ball-Scented, Sweater-Vest-Clad Temple Gathering Film Night was not about "uhhh some old Jewish person!" ("...could you be a little more specific than that, Dad?" "Uhhh I think, something about, uh, art?") as was promised over the phone, but was about MARC FUCKING CHAGALL whom I love madly (who is, admittedly, some old--if by "old" you mean "dead"--Jewish person with something to do with art, but so is my grandma and her collection of horrifying malformed beaded animals).

My precious father, who is officially the preciousest dad in all the land, tried to make it up to me by offering to stalk Marc Chagall's granddaughter in her place of employ. I wish I knew what to make of this.

eta: BECAUSE MY DAD'S BRAIN, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. It only gets crackier.

DAD: ALSO MARC CHAGALL SPOKE TO US AND HE WAS REALLY NICE!
ME: Dad, Marc Chagall is dead oh my god what sect of Judaism did you say your temple was again?
DAD: HA HA HA.
ME: No, but seriously, he's dead. You, you know this, right?
DAD: YES!
ME: ...?!?
DAD: I MEANT. HE SPOKE. IN THE MOVIE. OH OH IT'S STILL PLAYING! YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME! MICHELLE MICHELLE COME BE JEWISH WITH ME!!!

Next week, you guys, I am going to join my father in COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, MR. OBAMA. CAN YOU ZOMBIFY MARC CHAGALL? I THINK NOT!
two_grey_rooms: (in this illusionary place)
So, today I was aiming to make a post about America's First President To Have Paraphrased Spider-Man And What He Means To Me, but I opted instead to go up to my room, to very quickly drop off my coat, and then somehow I found myself waking up twenty years later in the middle of the Catskill mountains with a crazy fuckin' beard and a revolution I knew nothing about underway in my motherland, and my wife is dead, and MY LIFE WAS LIKE TOTALLY OVER--

And then I decided to stop being Rip Van Winkle and study for my math test like the diligent little student I am. Even though it was almost six-o-fucking-clock, WHAT.

Which is what I did all day night, sans eat dinner, which is why I was going to go back to sleep without so much as a flist comment today, but my dad just came home from his Very Important Temple Gathering. Evidently, the featured film of his Very Important Moth-Ball-Scented, Sweater-Vest-Clad Temple Gathering Film Night was not about "uhhh some old Jewish person!" ("...could you be a little more specific than that, Dad?" "Uhhh I think, something about, uh, art?") as was promised over the phone, but was about MARC FUCKING CHAGALL whom I love madly (who is, admittedly, some old--if by "old" you mean "dead"--Jewish person with something to do with art, but so is my grandma and her collection of horrifying malformed beaded animals).

My precious father, who is officially the preciousest dad in all the land, tried to make it up to me by offering to stalk Marc Chagall's granddaughter in her place of employ. I wish I knew what to make of this.

eta: BECAUSE MY DAD'S BRAIN, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. It only gets crackier.

DAD: ALSO MARC CHAGALL SPOKE TO US AND HE WAS REALLY NICE!
ME: Dad, Marc Chagall is dead oh my god what sect of Judaism did you say your temple was again?
DAD: HA HA HA.
ME: No, but seriously, he's dead. You, you know this, right?
DAD: YES!
ME: ...?!?
DAD: I MEANT. HE SPOKE. IN THE MOVIE. OH OH IT'S STILL PLAYING! YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME! MICHELLE MICHELLE COME BE JEWISH WITH ME!!!

Next week, you guys, I am going to join my father in COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, MR. OBAMA. CAN YOU ZOMBIFY MARC CHAGALL? I THINK NOT!

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