Y’know, I have to say, watching Battlestar Galactica, I was not really getting the attraction of Number Six. But looking at Tricia Helfer’s Playboy shoot, I um. I may be coming around. Woman is hot like woah.

I’d still rather have Grace Park, though. And I’m not picturing her hypothetical spread in my head, really, not at all, I swear, stoplookingatmelikethat.

I feel drained and headachey, and I am not liking it one bit, sir.

On the upside, my Boromir figure arrived Saturday, and he is every bit as awesome as I was led to believe. One of the connecting loops on his swordbelt had come undone, and I had a brief spot of vexation repairing it — sometimes human hands are just too frickin’ big, y’all — but it was simple enough and he is now whole and awesome and making all the Barbies swoon.

Today is the day we pick up my birthday cake. If I’m still feeling all achey and blah later, though, I may just lay down and let other people get it. Yeah. That’s sounding like a really good idea right now….

Birthday’s in ten days. I will be old, but I’ve felt much older for a very long time, so its not that bad, really. (And I act younger in many ways, I know, but whatever gets you through the day.) I’m really, really hoping that my brother continues his tradition of Paypal-ing me money, as there is something that I want with an extra-large capital W-A-N-T. However, since he will be a father in 2-3 days, I’m trying my best not to expect anything. He could very well forget altogether. There are worse things.

I’m looking forward to my birthday cake, though. My mom ordered a small Strawberry Passion from Cold Stone Creamery. We’ve never had anything from them before, but their stuff all sounds and looks really good. Fingers crossed, yo.

I’ve been watching the first seasons of Battlestar Galactica and Torchwood. Can’t quite decide how I feel about either of them. There’s things I like, and well, I keep having Netflix send more, so I guess I like them? Then again, there’s mostly just crap on lately, or depending on when I’m up, porn and infomercials.

Although, the porn does sometimes have Katie Morgan….

Heh. I’m guessing it was the tendency to call people “puny mortals” that did it.

I’m messing around with The Dialectizer, mostly out of boredom. I probably will be moving on to other time wasters, as their definition of “hacker” seems to be “wannabe net-teenie retard,” and for some reason I’m finding that really, really annoying.

I’m reading a new author, or new-to-me author. I only just noticed the “yay, read it!” blurbs on the back both amount to calling the guy the new Stephen King, and somehow I think ol’ Uncle Stevie would take some mild exception to that. I mean, sure its flattering (to both parties, really, because one’s basically getting called the standard to live up to, while the other is getting described as living up to it), but its also kind of forcing the other guy into a box that might not be the right shape or size, and there’s also the whole thing of, y’know, Stephen King not being dead yet. Why do we need new ones if the old one’s still here and still working?

…that last paragraph made me sound like way more of a King fan than I actually am, I think. I have, like, five of his books, two of which I haven’t read, and one of the ones I have read was a collection of short stories. That I bought solely to read “1408.” (Why is “solely” not looking like a word?) And since I’m being honest, two of the books I have, I bought on the basis of liking stories in the collection that mentioned those books as being related/similar in their forewards.

That last sentence was so awkward. I keep trying to rearrange it in my head, but it doesn’t get less awkward. Solely still doesn’t look like a word. I’m blaming both on the fact that I’ve been up for 11 hours and have eaten once.

I think I will go rectify that, now.

Dude, I know I hadn’t gone to GJ in forever, but I hadn’t realized things had gone so cock-sideways that you can’t even log in anymore. Like, it expires roughly .02 seconds after you do it. Guess I won’t be deleting that RP back-up, after all….

There was something in Entertainment Weekly about racy pictures of Miley Cyrus, which I absolutely cannot wrap my head around. Hell, I’m having trouble with just “racy” and “Miley Cyrus” existing in the same sentence. ….and having now Googled it, I have to say that whoever dubbed these racy in the first place has obviously never been within a thousand miles of teenage girls operating on no sleep, lots of sugar, and left alone with a digital camera. In fact, you don’t even necessarily need the lack of sleep and sugar overdose. Boredom and the giggly rush of teenage friendships is usually enough. Jeez. Call me when you’ve got Miley in her underwear Frenching a girl, and then we’ll talk racy and lesbian.

….please don’t actually call me if those pictures ever exist. Seriously. I think it would break my brain, and not in any of the good ways.