Whore for an accent.

You all knew that already, though, didn’t you?

Anyway, I am in love with Doctor Who now. Seriously. Joined two Facebook groups. Almost joined the one that said I wanted to do naughty things to David Tennant but thought better of it in case future employers found out (current employers wouldn’t care, I don’t think, as James and I spent a good chunk of time discussing the Great Sex Bible last night), even though I TOTALLY DO. I contemplated running down to Best Buy to buy Goblet of Fire TONIGHT. Cannot wait until tomorrow. NEED NOW. DAMMIT WHY ARE THE DVDS SEVENTY DOLLARS GARH!!!!

*ahem*

Good Lord, people should not let me teach their children.

In other news, you know The Cool Crowd??? This morning, there was an ad for new people to contribute to the column. I am seriously considering applying. I believe my e-mail would go something like the following.

“The weekend started early last night when I dealt with unruly hair and plucked my eyebrows. Today I really must do something about the pimples breaking out, so I’m thinking mudmask. New Numb3rs on at nine!!! MUST NAME SELF’S AND DAVID TENNANT’S BABIES. Tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in and then assisting at the dinner dance, the highlight of which should be watching old people get tanked (bonus points if they’re a member of the clergy). Sunday I’m sleeping. Again. And maybe reading my British history textbook. Oh, wait. A showing of Baby Mama was also discussed. I’ll probably fall asleep at nine. And sometime I need to get to the grocery to buy more Dannon Activia, which actually really works and you totally didn’t need to know that about me, did you? No wonder I’m single. I want to die.”

Please, Journal Sentinal. Don’t keep calling me.

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