Capture the innocents.

I would much enjoy if Blogger would kindly employ reCaptcha for their Captcha method; the one they have right now is simple, but it's not helping digitize novels.

It appears my heart chose David; the nearby boy. I am surprised, he was surprised, his friend was surprised, my friends were surprised. My heart is a surprise.

Enjoying watching Portal 2 videos, and got to play L4D2 TODAY!!!!!

Needless to say, I was HORRIBLE. My first go at the...umm.......the...controller of whatever L4D2 is played on. Seriously, no clue, too many systems out there and I own none, I just know I was new to it and had like...no control. I shot Coach square in the chest. He just glared at me, gave me the stink eye. Fortunately my bf had my back and it was on easy-peasy.

Rochelle is the most...slutty-sounding healer. Kind-of bothersome.

Maybe I will eventually get the controls down...maybe. It'd take a few tries.

Oh yes, and the lucky Zelical has been blessed with a keepsake upon her neck she desires as much as a life-loving slug craves a salt bath. Needless to say, it was an accident and...now that I recall, I need to try a trick a friend told me about freezing a spoon. Not looking forward to this.

My boyfriend has the bluest eyes and sharp canines. And he LISTENS. And he takes my advice without being hurt by bluntness...which is good.

My dad accused me of lying to him about the towels. I did...but he told me I gave them away. No. Yes, I did lie, I didn't burn the ones that were worn out that I removed YET because I am a lazy bum. But NO, I am not the cause of the missing 1/3rd of our towels. The worn towels I removed were thin and not even close to the width of a single towel even when together.

I don't care for being told I'm a liar. I rarely lie; if I do, it's probably for good reason. Such as avoiding huge, pointless arguments about taking an extra bath or two every week cuz it was FREEZING this winter.

...Dexter in Dodge commercials, awesome voice is awesome.

...the frozen spoon didn't feel too bad, though now it hurts like a motherfucker.

How is it that my dad's -made- poems get in books but my most brilliant poem will never be seen beyond a couple pairs of eyes? Sigh...

Drawing a heart on my wrist, for David as well as the event. I love him.

Love comes in many stages, and he still loves her. As I still love he, my first love, but far faded is it now. His is fresh. But love is love, though young, it's still love. A caterpillar, just yet.