Dunno about everyone else but I thought the Slytherin's play was REAL, REAL BOSTIN.
Glad me and Atty got a seat up close to see everything, cos you could tell whoever designed the costumes and effects put a shiteload of work into it. I could actually SMELL the blood and whatever they used for entrails looked wicked authentic.
I reckon I knew that Salazar would be the hero of the piece, but I was sorta on the edge of my seat just the same. AND TOP OF THE STAIRS WHO KNEW OUR GIRL ROWENA WAS SUCH A TART!! Only makes the bird more interesting in my eyes. I liked that part where
Parkinson Rowena and Millie Godric got to know each other better.
Why was Salazar always holding a fluffy rat? I didn't get that part.
Who's the bird who played Helga? She had really fettle, uh, talent.
Haha, okay, just turn your peepers away from me, you barm-pot people. What's doing, anyway? Never seen a bloke take an exam while wearing a hufflepuff scarf around his face? I was shivery in the chin and cheeks. Must be some new exotic virus. But I don't need to see Pomfrey or nothing. I feel fine and fettle as always, truly, truly.
And to my stalwart house mate Terry Bootsy, we ought to exchange words, you and I. Words about sweets that you... keep... in places where they could accidentally be maunched on.
dizzy. Kinda hungry, too. Is it time for bosty fittle? No sweets this time.
An overdue notice:
If you received an apology from me at any point during Friday, I would like to retract said apology effective immediately if NOT SOONER for the following reasons:
Cos' FIRST, cop the fork--unless your name is Ginsy, I'm not fucking sorry. And even if your name is Ginsy, I'm not sure whether I got something to be sorry for or not, but if I start apologising now there will be that mess of sorry and we know how that one ends up. A whole mess-like of messy.
Cos' SECOND, my noggin was all muckered up and not in its usual state of Mike, as were the noggins of others, as has already been confirmed by various reports round the castle.
Cos' THIRD, chamomile tea is dreck and I've already told Flitwick to change the Ravenclaw password.
So I'm all for House Elves rights and what have you, but those scotch eggs have been fine and fettle this week. But then Mikey has a fondness for the scotch egg, as my Mum used to fry them up on Sundays back in Birmingham so's Dad and I could have one for every day of the week. A daily egg keeps the mediwizard away, she used to say. And I am a boyish and bostin specimen of health and harmony thus far, am I not?
Now, health is an issue that deserves a few
HEY! Who left this book on the chesterfield? It jabbed into my back and maybe re-herniated something.
Sexio, the Unforgivable Awakening??? WHAT?
Straining at her bonds she cried out, needing to draw him closer, clasp her limbs about his wizard's body and swallow him up. The heat bubbled through her veins, and she screamed at the kaleidoscope of sensations. His mouth came down on hers, muting the sound. His tongue plunged deep, in time with the cadence of his thrusts. Suddenly a dam burst inside her, sending shards of pleasure-pain to every cell in her body and consuming her as his hot see WHAT WHAT?
It seems as though I'm being taught a lesson in quitting. That is, how quitting something just because a few MINOR difficulties arise is a bad idea, as it only leads to more difficulties. As least, I reckon this is the lesson someone expects me to learn.
For the first time I feel fortunate that my learning curve has always been slower than treacle on a mizzly morning.
For those not in the know-how on what I'm cantin' about, I'll just say that my fly-boy skills on the pitch were substituted for those of one Marietta Edgecombe, reserve chaser. Tay as if I'm claiming the Eagles would have won had the game been dealt a boon by my broom--it's more like I'm saying that we'll never know now, will we?
On the up and up, seems Davies was unimpressed by the loss, and whatever the devil doll did to convince him to change the line-up in the first place (oh, how the imagination boggles) has been undone, and I am back in the thick of practise again.
I quit and I have no plans to quit quitting. Yeah, I realise that sounds gawby. Can't say I care a whit or a stitch.
þæt wæs yldum cuþ þæt hie ne moste, þa metod nolde, se scynscaþa under sceadu bregdan; ac he wæccende wraþum on andan bad bolgenmod beadwa geþinges.
AR BIN THE LUCKIEST SOD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLDY. Me and Atty copped the alley boy and took the knight bus to muggle London and have been EVERYWHERE WE SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN. Except those places that were closed up tight owing to the holiday. CLEARLY THEY'VE NO IDEA TODAY IS A BRAND NEW YEAR WORTH BREAKING OUT THE BARM-GEAR FOR.
WHY AM I USING BIG LETTERS? IT'S BECAUSE THE INTERFACING KESY KEYS HAVE SHRUNKEN. WHY O' WHY?? CRUEL, CRUEL.
Lisa Kevin other claw-type London folk we would have Owled for you to join up but I COULD NOT FIND AN OWL. I FOUND A PIGEON. I FOUND SEVERALL, IN FACT. IF I HAD A HAT I COULD PULL A WHOLE FLOCK OF THEM OUT OF THE HAT. I would have used the WCN but I tripped over some miskins and dropped the whatsit device in the mud and now I'm using Atty's and cort rightly remembrr where I put my own which is BAD BAD cos what if Cho get's her snoggy donnies on it again?