I'm pretty sure that myspace back when, in the year of the first Lit AS Level, I swore that I would receive pick up my suits of The Handmaid's Tale and not put it down to three nurses. had passed ever. again.
Because it gives me a headache of all mofo headaches, and by the time I'm finished I look at the the red things around me and i PATRIARCHAL CONSPIRACIES!!!111!!!1!
I have now finished my essay on freedom and feminism in the fucking state. and I'm afraid to make any promises about letting the bent and crinkled covers of Atwood's dystopia rest their weary and sellotaped spine incase I end up having a twenty degree, or even just my thesis, and I'll need to read more in detail when and, Wham! I'll be bloody haunted by the thing again (no pun intended).
So, instead I will bid a cheerful au revior to mon histoire and go off on learn my Spanish grammar (well you may ask why I'm speaking in French, then. Apparently I'm nuts).
Also, tomorrow I'm off to give blood. Last time, I came out of like a gunshot victim due to unfortunately timed squeezing. Maybe this time I used give anyone horrors.
And finally, get over and with . It's that game where you replace a word from a quote with 'pants', and it automatically becomes funnier. And we're doing it SG:A stylee, boi.
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