traumatized

It's raining and that aggravates me on a level akin to that itch you can't quite scratch. This is mainly because said rain is accompanied by Wind. Said Wind seems determined to blow my umbrella inside out every opportunity it can.

One can only hope that this interminable weather will cease and I will find some diversion outside and away from my computer.

You see, it is this prolonged exposure to my computer that is warping my words around because, sweet reader, once you have read around thirty or so chapters written in 17th century prose you start to write in a somewhat affected manner.

On another, less ponderous note, I am greatly looking forward to around five o'clock when both us Kristins will be partaking in the making of a film as costume and makeup and possibly will be in the movie as the illustrious role of: Dead bodies.

What more could one hope for?

Ah, the pretentious lenthiness of my writing is frustrating even me, your humble narrator. So, in an attempt to clear my head I will, and I must quote,

"I'm just gonna smoke. I'm just gonna totally smoke. I'll finish these, go to the store, get a brand new pack, and smoke the shit out of that one."

Bonus points if you know what that is from.

Kristin B. (Canuk)