that facial expression
“doncha wish ur bias was hot like me”
I get a very muddled glam Star Trek AU vibe from this, but I do not mind.
Scalemate boxers complete! I am waiting on a new pair of tights and some buttons for the cape, but I can catch the scent of a competed cosplay in the air.
He finally learned.
I’m really liking how this episode closed everything.
Oh dear how terrible would it be if I ended up getting gold fabric embroidered with roses for the gold trim on Oscar’s jacket? I finally saw what I had thought was the perfect fabric in person yesterday and consequently had to start my search over again.
here are four of the fabrics I’ve looked at so far. Any preferences?
1/4 of the way through. I dislike painting scalemates because I am bad at painting.
Did I just find some slightly River-Song-like sunglasses today? Selfie featuring hastily put on garish lipstick says yes.
I stopped by a pet store today and saw a big container with about 5 ferrets They were gathered around a big bowl of food pellets and all but one were eating. Instead, it was aggressively gnawing at the bowl. I want this ferret.
If insomnia weren’t a part of my life I would probably never apply for jobs.
Character: Mal! Storm
Series: Marvel Comics
cmon little dude rally!!
Glootle partied too hard
We did dugtrio, and alicia said it was hilarious to watch us walk past people. Fear would turn into recognition. Which would then turn into laughter.
We should have worn them longer, but they were impossible to see in.
i’m the one with the furry boots. xD
You know how it is, right, ladies? You know a guy for a while. You hang out with him. You do fun things with him—play video games, watch movies, go hiking, go to concerts. You invite him to your parties. You listen to his problems. You do all this because you think he wants to be your friend.
But then, then comes the fateful moment where you find out that all this time, he’s only seen you as a potential girlfriend. And then if you turn him down, he may never speak to you again. This has happened to me time after time: I hit it off with a guy, and, for all that I’ve been burned in the past, I start to think that this one might actually care about me as a person. And then he asks me on a date.
I tell him how much I enjoy his company, how much I value his friendship. I tell him that I really want to be his friend and to continue hanging out with him and talking about our favorite books or exploring new restaurants or making fun of avant-garde theatre productions. But he rejects me. He doesn’t answer my calls or e-mails; if we’d been making plans to do something before this fateful incident, these plans mysteriously fail to materialize. (This is why I never did get around to seeing the Hunger Games movie. Not to name any names, but thanks a lot, Tom.) Later, when I run into him at social events, our conversations are awkward and lukewarm. This is because the moment we met, he put me in the girlfriend-zone, and now he can’t see me as friend material.
I must say that I find this really unfair. I mean, I’m a nice girl. I have a lot to offer as a friend, like not being a douchebag and stuff. But males just don’t want to be friends with nice girls like me. They can’t help it, I guess; it’s just how they’re wired, biologically. Evolution conditioned our male hominid ancestors to seek nice girls as mates and form friendship bonds only with the other dudes that they hunted mammoths with. It’s true—I know this because I studied hominids in my fifth-grade science class.
So what’s the answer? Should I take up mammoth-hunting in an attempt to appeal to the friendship centers of men’s primal lizardbrains? Should I keep making guy “friends” and then prevent them from making a move on me by subtly undermining their self-confidence? Should I just give up on those manipulative, game-playing, two-faced bastards once and for all? I don’t know. I mean, I’d really like to have a true friendship with a guy someday, but it’s so hard to trust and respect them when they never say what they mean—and you never know when you might be relegated to the girlfriend-zone.