silverthorne: (Snarky batshit fandom people)
Whoa, what, wait!

Dumbledore is gay?!??!


Holy shit, and here I thought the old coot was asexual. Or Bi. One of the two.

Damn.

/sarcasm.


(Also, the outrage, from 'but she didn't tell us that in the books!!eleventy1!!' to the 'OMG, now that makes Dumble's relationship with Harry SOOOOOOOOOOOO creepy' just make me laugh. Get over it, people. It was just one of those many little facts she had stored in a notebook somewhere. It's not like someone is going to unearth Rowling's rough draft of the slash-tastic Hogwarts, The Hidden Years (and Sex). anytime soon. Besides, we have slash fic writers for that *g*.)
silverthorne: Painting of a cougar sneaking through underbrush (Default)






Which wand will yours be?




10 1/2 inches, cedar and floo powder, a strange Gregorovitch combination indeed! You've been bitten bad by the travel bug, and change is the name of your game. A true wanderer, you can't stay long in one place and wish to travel the world.
Take this quiz!








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silverthorne: (Auron's Work is Never Done)
...and you know what?

I don't feel it. At all. *g*

HP book--good!

Day so far--good!

And my body has already given me it's birthday present in the notice that the nice, shiny size 18 pants I bought are likely to be loose very soon--got one pair on right now that're hip huggers, very slightly tight in the arse, but already loose in the waistline. O.o

...I just got these!!!

But, it's good. Because it means I'm still losing weight. Yay!
silverthorne: (Oi!)
So, I hauled ass out of bed to go and get coffee and creamer and to spend my birthday money from Dad.

And LO! There was a display of Deathly Hollows books, and yet there were still copies sitting there.

And I did pick one up, and I did go shopping for new clothes and plant food and me food and laundry soap and new, soft bedsheets.

And I did go to the check out. And I did check out.

And I found that the book was, yeah and verily, seventeen dollars more than I had.

And I pondered this quandry.

And pondered again.

And decided that, hey, dammit, I'd rather be able to walk out the door without my jeans falling off than already have the book.

And so thus the book was returned to the display. And I left.

At least until the birthday check from Grandma shows. *g*
silverthorne: (Oi!)
All right, what I'm about to say will amount to:

a) Preaching to the choir

and/or

b) Seeming to talk down to folks. (Which I'm not, but hey, it's the interbutt. Someone's bound to get offended.)

But. I'm irritated. So here's the cut so you can choose not to read if you don't want to... )

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