(no subject)

Note to self: When at work, the word "numbers" is correctly spelled without the 3.

If I were fifteen, I'd be putting them up in my locker.

So, uh. Last night at Write Club, I walked into the store and, on my way into the cafe, was ACCOSTED by the June issue of GQ. It had Brad Pitt on the cover, and I have, uh. Something of a weakness for Brad Pitt. Like, it's a good thing I'm resigning before I get fired for staring at his ass on work time. (Damn you, rightclicklick!) So I took the magazine over to the cafe--actually I took it on a ride up one escalator and down the other, looking for splash_the_cat or fairmer, but they hadn't arrived yet, so I took Brad the magazine and sat down in the cafe.

I tried to read the article, I honestly did. I made more than one attempt, in the course of the night. It just didn't work. I was too distracted by the pretty. Around ten I caved and ponied up $3.95 in order to take Brad the magazine home with me, and tonight I cracked its spine, freed the relevant pages, and fired up my little-used scanner, so that everyone could have the benefit of my $3.95.

( Brad Pitt is Hot, Yo. )

I'd love an icon of one of these, but am horrendously lazy and helpless when it comes to things graphical, so if anyone wanted to make me one, I would love you forever.