Almost better.

I barely have a voice, but otherwise, I think the evil germs are gone. My first American illness! Yay! Riiiight, moving on. So. This is where I remind you all that Orlando Bloom will be on The Tonight Show tonight. Don't forget. Heh. Gee, maybe he'll have an American accent, since y'know, Lij went all Britsy. Maybe he'll say 'turd,' then immediately correct himself and say, 'y'know, just a little poo.' Or the other way around. I don't know, it's all just sodding confusing at this point. Why? Hell, I don't know. You expect me to make sense?

I forgot about sending Christmas cards. I suck. Maybe it's not too late.

Yet more fangirlishness.

Or not.

Am I the only one on the planet who does not find Viggo Mortensen attractive? Am I? Cos he's not.

Everyone is down in the lounge watching Finding Nemo. It's a funny enough film, mostly because of Ellen Degeneres. The rest of it is a take-or-leave sort of thing, and I choose to leave it. But her part (Dory, if you don't know) was the damn funniest thing. Especially when she's speaking to the whale. Heh.

I have two half-full (I'm an optimist) cans of Coke on my bedside table, and I think I just opened both of them. Hrm. One right before dinner, and the other during. How odd. They are sitting next to Green Peely Orlando, whom I love and adore, and are fizzing fizzing away.

What else is on my bedside table? A torch, an unplugged clock-radio, a paper cup with water in it, three books, a spool of black thread, a scissor, and an empty packet of throat lozenges. Well. And the cable modem thinger, which I nicked from downstairs, cos I'm a tricksy hobbit. So far, no one seems to have noticed its absence, or mine for that matter.

I need a life. Anyone have an extra one just lying about that they can lend to me for a few weeks?

In other news:

I have a piece of candy lodged in my throat. It feels sort of weird, just hanging out there. I keep swallowing so that it will be on its merry way, but it seems to like being stuck halfway between my mouth and my stomach. It's round and green. The candy, that is. I swallowed it whole, by accident.

Help.

Just got through watching Orlando on the telly. Fucking hell. My palms are sweaty. I am fangirl, hear me squee.

His voice. Fucking. Kills. Me. And I was giggling at every sodding thing he said. Jesus Christ, I'm pathetic. But fuck. Just, fuck. He's sex on legs, spread on a biscuit and served with tea. He seemed sort of nervous though. And everything with a cunt (and some with a cock, I'd imagine as well) in the audience was screaming. Especially when he did the lizard thing and told the monkey story.

Fucking fuck. Errrgh.

Must. . .find. . .batteries. . .