Ghost Story

Blergh.

Worst. Book. Ever.

Compared to the expectations anyway. I mean hell, Butcher said he wanted 4 additional months to write it better.

After 5 pages I wanted to put it down. HARD. Like maybe trow it against a wall or tear it up.

I didn't. Not sure I shouldn't have. It drags on, is totally uninteresting, lacks the wit and sarcasm and fun that the other books had - the reason I was reading the series in the first place.

And then Butcher comes out and wants to push a name like "Ragged Lady" down my throat? As in sweet little Molly becoming a deranged, magical lunatic homeless vigilante/mass murderer thingy and calling herself "Ragged Lady". Uhm... yeah, right. I think Butcher needs to pull his head out of his roleplaying ass and look around himself, get reaquinted with the real world. Outside of Marvel people don't call themselves names like that with a straight face.

Jesus Christ almighty.

I dunno if it's sad or if Mr Butcher thinks that after 12 books he can feed us anything and we'll just lap it up. This book... plain hurts.

Just groovy

Good sex, a good book, and a smoke afterwards. Perfect.

Alas, before anybody gets a scare, I am doing some anger management, learning new relaxation techniques... and will move away soon. No reason to stay in a highly stressful environment or to make myself miserable.

My mom's newest hobby is to leave the doors open. The last week and during a few weeks before early this month, we had frigid, 15°C air outside. And crazy humidity. (I have asthma, humidity cramps my lungs. And I can't stand the cold. I always get sick.)

So she opens the window (or balcony door) in the room she is in, letting in the humid, 15°C air into the flat with the 25°C trapped inside.

She gets a kick out of irking me - making me close the doors behind her (so I won't freeze my ass off while staying indoors) gives her a rush. She tells me so. She smirks at me and taunts me. (Is this really what parents are supposed to do?)

For the last week I had to repress myself, as every time the above mentioned happened, I had pictures showing me pushing her head repeatedly into the wall. Or me breaking her fucking arms with a baseball bat.

No, I never owned a baseball bat and I don't even hit people. Especially my parents... not that m,y mother deserves any kind of respect, but still. In my culture it is not a proper thing to raise your hand against your elders, especially your parents.

But boy... the way she has been acting towards me I wonder when I will finally snap.

...moving?

Folks going away on holiday. Yipee.
Either way, seems like we clash more and more. Like... daily.

I'm gonna move away. I'll need a reinforced door, soundproof of course, and internet. I can live without a TV, telephone and video... but not without a PC and the 'net. Will be fun to carry it over. (The PC.) Ouch.

I'm still wondering what to do with Manó. No idea where to put his cage or where I could let him out to roam. No doors. Save from the bathroom door and the front door. If he so much as takes a bite out of my handmade Indian table, he is dead.

Also, I will need some heavy drapes for the bedroom. No door on that one and all noises from the hallway outside my front door (which is right in front of the bedroom doorway) reach directly into the bedroom. Yes, apparently a moron did that. I hope some heavy drapes would mute the sounds. That and a soundproofed front door.

I wonder if I could buy a washing machine for cheap. Something small and easy to use. I like washing machines that open on top. No reason to crouch and make a treasure hunt of finding the proper buttons to make it work.

New Polishes!!!!

My newest polishes. One of them was not packaged right, or more like they left it a tad bit open and it spilled. The nail polish remover removed the silver paint on the top too. Alas, they are still pretty!