| So unspeakably bored. |
[06 May 2006|01:16pm] |
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mood |
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 bored |
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I'm bored.
Take my poll.
Poll #723779 I am bored.
Open to: Friends, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 9 I am taking this poll. Who would win in a duel? Who would win in a duel? Thirsty? Favourite sandwich filling Tell me something interesting. Please. I beg of you. Anything at all.
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| Attention. |
[09 Feb 2006|02:40pm] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
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music |
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The English Beaters - Mirror of Erised in the Bathroom |
] |
I realise many of you are so busy trying to meet your application deadlines that you haven't had free time to attend meals, but that's no excuse for stealing sandwiches.
If you're not a Ravenclaw, the sandwich bar is by invitation only.
Finch-Fletchley, you're gong to pay for those three egg-salad sandwiches. Don't think I didn't see you, and don't pretend you didn't hear me shouting your name as you ran down from Ravenclaw Tower.
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| Virus clinic! |
[14 Nov 2005|09:17am] |
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mood |
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 recumbent |
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music |
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WNN Wizarding Morning |
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Michael Corner has managed to fill most of Ravenclaw Tower with a thick black smoke, which has contaminated the entire stock of the sandwich bar. Mark my words, Michael: I won't forget this.
On the other hand, it also appears that something in the smoke cures the computer virus. If you're still having symptoms, Michael says you should bring your computer up to our common room; 15 minutes should do the trick.
He's probably too busy snogging Ginny to be a danger, but just in case, don't let your laptop out of your sight; you wouldn't want him to tempt him to steal them and wire them all together into some sort of super-computer to help him take over the world.
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[25 Jul 2005|01:36am] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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Merlin, this is the last time I ever listen to Padma. Ever. "Come with me to the Pillars of Storgé," she said, "there will be drinks!"
Good news is, I found the drinks. Sweet, sweet alcohol. However, I have been trying to find my way back for nearly an hour. Where the bloody hell am I... Perhaps it was not the best idea to start drinking before I was safe in my dorm. Damn you, alcohol, and your ability to inebriate the best of us. The best!
I think I will sit here and wait for someone to find me and help me find my way back. In the meantime, I can finally begin a novel like I have always wanted. I shall entitle it, Little Lisa Lost, and it will document all the little details of this experience. Chapter the First: Brandy.
No time for Dickinson, some of us are lost right now.
Damn it, people, stop stepping on my robes!
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[23 Mar 2005|01:19pm] |
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mood |
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annoyed |
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Would I be considered a traitor were I to say that this sandwich bar is the worst thing that has happened to me? I have set up a camp right by the bar where for the past few weeks I have spent most of my free time here eating sandwiches, not to mention sleeping and breathing them as well.
A sudden realisation dawned upon me this morning. One has definitely had too much of something when one does not want it any longer. I.. I do not want--damn it, I cannot say it. I feel ill. What is worse is that I cannot get out of here on my own. The bread and lettuce have come to life and are surrounding my tent. I tried to leave once but I was attacked with sesame seeds and toothpicks, and they do in fact hurt when flung at your eyeballs.
So I lie here in my sleeping bag, still in my pyjamas at Merlin knows what time, writing a plea for help. And whoever, if anyone, and by that I mean TERRY, should come, do mind the turkey; the bread slices have fashioned it into a vicious cougar. It had never crossed my mind that bread could be so intelligent.
For each ecstatic instant, we must an anguish pay.
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acridturpintine's journal
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