little_tristan: (Fireworks)
Like many other members of Romney's 47% of Democrats guaranteed to vote for Obama to get handouts, we still had to go to bed on time so the boys could go to work today. The numbers weren't looking good when we turned off the tv. I missed all my evening shows to watch the coverage and it was very scary. I even forgot to tweet clever things about it after a while. And surprised myself by remembering after I was in bed that I hadn't written my MiniNaNo quota. Or even thought about it at all after the East Coast polls started closing.

I'd have got up and finished somehow if I could have done without bothering Mark. As it is I just settled in with the CNN website on my phone. They had a very nice little graphic page showing the electoral totals, and the returns from battleground states.* It was too intense refreshing the page constantly and watching Wisconsin swing in the wind, so I alternated reading Douglas Adams in the Kindle app.** I was able to finish The Restaurant at the End of the Universe and make decent headway in Life, the Universe, and Everything.

About five minutes after checking CNN for the last time, fireworks starting going off up the street. I switched back and saw that President Obama had passed 270, meaning I could finally sleep. Mark had asked me not to wake him up unless I really couldn't contain myself, so I meant not to bother him. Fortunately(?) the fireworks woke him for me. Honestly, I think he slept better after that, too.

Today I must actually write. I'm feeling somewhat failurey for punting yesterday and consoling myself with the idea that it must have been a good excuse. Over the last three months or so I've gotten better at thinking about things. I've entirely stopped staring blankly at walls for hours at a stretch missing mom.*** My brain is still too crowded, but most of the important thoughts get to the front for roll call on time. So it's noteworthy that I must be writing something didn't even pop in to say goodbye before shoving off for the day. Possibly it knocked and GOBama, GOBama didn't answer. I'll be sure to have a word with both of them after I take care of smoke, smoke, smoke, who is really getting up my nose at the moment.

This morning I found this man who said some words about infinity. My non-writing project for the day will be trying to figure out why anyone on YouTube would dislike him.

*I still think that reporters must've been paid for each use of the word battleground. I also hope that ambulances were standing by near college campuses to assist students playing battleground shots, as they were all quite likely comatose by 5 pm Pacific.

**It really is nice having a phone, a computer, and two well-lit books in bed without taking up much space. Imagine trying that twenty years ago. It would have been terrible for Mr. Sloane who, being a cat, is obligated to block access to everything at once.

***I still miss her, but now I can multi-task it. It's sort of a continuous low hum in the back of my mind, rather than a great grey emptiness that swallows all other thoughts. So that's a break.
little_tristan: (Drunk Octopus)
Okay, it was brutally unfair to make you all wait a day and a half, but Heather was over with the baby and he totally brought to life the terrible twos concept. It was the worst behaved I've ever seen him, just running and screaming and pushing every limit until it collapsed in despair and died of its own weight. The only nap he took was when she finally had to strap him into his stroller in the living room and let him cry himself out while we smoked on the porch and congratulated each other for getting out of there without actually hurting him. Because sometimes you just have to walk away.

But that's not what y'all were waiting for, is it? No, you want to hear about what happened when Steve came over last night. Well, the short answer is, nothing. He was a little late, of course, but not terribly, and knocked at the front door like a proper guest. Russ stood in the middle of the room, while I stayed in the corner at my tv watching station, and Mark let him in. He was exactly the same as always with them, and they were the same as always with him. It was all "Hey, how you doing? What's going on?" standard guy stuff. Steve never actually looked at me, or even at my end of the room, nor did he speak to me.

He made a bunch of trips upstairs and hauled his stuff out the side door while the gf and her kids waited in the car. Even with car top carrier I bought him for his vacation, he didn't get a whole lot in. Then he came back, said goodbye to the boys and told them he'd be back with his brother and his brother's truck to get the rest when he could. Again, he didn't look at or speak to me while they exchanged "Good to see yous" and "Take it easys". Then he went out to the car, got the gf and kids, and spent the rest of the evening with the drunken losers across the street. I know this because her car was still in front of our house when we went to bed at eight.

Apparently he did generously decided to split the plants with Russ, because Russ was always his favorite. He's the one Steve went whining to when I fired him, like Russ hadn't been telling me to for months. And how much do I wish I'd told Steve that when I had the chance? I had at least two months to tell him I was the only friend he had here, and the only reason he still had a job.

But whatever. He went away content that they're on his side and he'd still be happily leaching off us and constantly whining at me about my unreasonable demands if only I wasn't such a mean controlling bitch. And yes, I'm still pissed about that. But when I mentioned it this morning, that my feelings are still a bit hurt that he screwed us all over and, you know, treated me like a disposable cash card and I'm the only one who has a problem with it, Russ said that was true. I am the only one with a problem and it's time to shut up about it. So I will. After mentioning one last time that while the three people I trust most in the world are technically on my side, they're going to continue to let him think they're on his and it's just a matter of bitches be crazy, what're you gonna do? Also, I hope his basement hole floods this winter. And then grows mold. That is all.

That said, I'll leave you with this happy thought. During Cory's relatively obedient half hour when we walked up to the Dollar Tree, I rather impulsively bought a half-size purple tote bag that's going to be my new purse for a while. And this morning I paid off our credit card debt, after finally getting through to Mark that we were paying over three grand a year in interest, and that the amount of money he's seeing in the final column of the software isn't what we have, it's what we would have after the debt was subtracted. Now the numbers are still the same, we just won't have to keep handing over half his monthly pay to keep the credit jackals at bay. I've explained it three times a week for the last month, it just took this long for him to stop interrupting with yes, yes, I understand and actually LISTEN. God love him, he just doesn't have the storage capacity to truly process everything I say. Much like the large number of people who probably stopped reading a paragraph ago. ;) To those who got this far, God loves you, too, and so do I.

little_tristan: (Kitten Star Me Kitten)
It's a little after midnight and I've made the executive decision to stay up all night. Herr and I both had trouble getting to sleep, but I failed completely while he succeeded after about an hour of false starts. I was considering getting down to it and really concentrating on sleep when I suddenly got sick and had to get up. He's so very tired that he fell asleep again while I was in the bathroom, and I just couldn't wake him again. It's too cruel.

But it's kind of neat being the only one awake in the house. Ranger is sleeping on the sofa behind me, Willow is upstairs sleeping on Bruder's bed, and I don't have to worry about taking them outside. The a-n won't be bugging me, and I'm catching up on FB and my flist without the guilt of "burning daylight". I might even do some writing. So long as the house doesn't get much colder, it'll be a fun night. Well, for another 3 hours. Then everyone else will be up again. Until then, I'm keeping the Netflix very, very quiet.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Sod Off)
I'm catching up my flist and just finished reading a couple of LJ posts by an author whose books I like. But I ended up unfriending her because, frankly, I don't need anymore things in my life pissing me off. I already have the arch-nemesis, and I live in a neighborhood without curbcuts. Why invite more irritants in via LJ?

What set me off was this: She's anti-Kindle. Not just prefers not to use one, but actually hates that they exist. Although she takes the money fast enough when I buy her books for Kindle. And isn't reaching the audience the point? Anyway, everyone's entitled to their opinion, but no one's forcing her to use one, and I can't see them replacing paper books, which seems to be her big fear. (I refuse to say "real" books because I believe the book is the content, not the package.)

But what really gets up my nose is her calling them toys and fads and ridiculing the people who use them for being trendy or lazy, or just not appreciating the beauty of "real" books or the written word. As a person who uses it to get around a very real physical disability that was threatening to stop me from reading altogether, this puts her right up there with those idiots on the street who say they're jealous of my wheelchair and tell me I'm lucky that I "don't have to" walk.

Now, I couldn't say this on the author's journal because that's her space and anyway she deletes comments that she doesn't like, but this is my space so I'll say it here. STOP JUDGING AND RIDICULING ME, YOU BLIND, STUPID, ARROGANT FUCKING BITCH. You want paper? Great. Buy paper. But don't put your petty shit off on me, or anyone else who doesn't have the privilege of indulging their preferences. Not everyone is a trendy, techy show-off. Some of us just want to read a book without inflicting serious pain and injury on ourselves.

In summary, I'm sorry if this messes with your personal view of what a book is and how it should be read. fuck you.

(PS: This is in no way meant to suggest that one needs to be crippled to enjoy electronic media. It's also neat in its own right, so read how you please and fear not any judgment from me.:)
little_tristan: (Star Trek Chekov Ensign Puppy)
Part 2 of the love meme from a couple weeks ago.

The brave and mighty [ profile] amine_eyes is, by my standards, a relatively new friend and one I am grateful every day for having met. She's a happy slashing fangirl, a bright creative university student, and she can fly military jets. Any one of those things = awesome, but all of them together? Awesome3 with chocolate syrup and a strawberry on top.

But what really makes [ profile] amine_eyes a fun friend and a constant source of joy is her attentiveness. She's shared her thoughts on nearly every post I've made since we met (and that's been a lot), bringing love and sympathy and laughter to my life every single day. Even when I fail to return the favor. So far as I can tell, she lives in a constant state of exceeding excellence--having adventures, loving and being loved by her family, working hard, getting a solid education--and does so with humility and (occasionally intoxicated:) grace.

Basically you, S, are living the life I might have chosen had it been for me to choose. But it wasn't and I'm not, so thank you for letting me share in a little part of it. Even from here it rocks because you tell it so well.

*Hugs Always*
little_tristan: (Moo)
That I forgot one of the best ones! The VW mechanic called to say he'd driven the truck a little and looked it over, and he thinks the engine is sound. It needs a tune up, new filters and glow plugs (the things that heat the oil in a diesel so it'll start; in winter when it's really cold there's an electric heater we'll plug into an outlet), that sort of thing, but he thinks that'll bring it up to speed. He'll check the compression and all, but he seemed pretty sure that it was okay.

Then he mentioned that it had very little by way of brakes, and that led to a funny conversation where I came off sounding very stupid. I said yes, the guy we bought it from had mentioned that it probably needed a brake job. And the mechanic said, well, not really. It's just that the vacuum pump that powers them isn't working. It took me a second to process that and then ask, you mean it has power brakes? And everyone had a little laugh at my expense. :)

But it's not like I've ever driven it, and we're all used to the axiom that cars with standard transmissions don't have power brakes. So whatever. He's going to call me back today or Monday with the results of the compression tests, but if that turns out like he expects, he says he can get it running really well for about a quarter of what we'd anticipated spending. And if he really does it, we can rest easy knowing we have a VW shop for next time. *happy car dance*
little_tristan: (Ranger)
Yesterday I got into all kinds of trouble when the old man found out I've been leaving the back door unlocked during the day. I go in and out a lot and the latch is kind of a bitch. You know how it is. True, there have been a lot of robberies in the area lately (20 in the last month!), and they all involve unlocked doors, but only between the hours of 1 and 4 in the morning. Which is when our house is waking up, and we lock the doors at night anyway. I explained all that (and wasn't he disappointed that I had heard the facts already), and that there's too much activity here for daytime burglars. Too many cars out front, too many voices inside, not to mention his radio cranked up so you can hear it across the street and down the block, and him standing in the window in his underwear all day. We're just bad targets.

When I added that, besides, no one wants to mess with my dog, he had what he must've thought was the final answer. He said all it would take was a pellet gun. He told me that when he lived in Albuquerque, someone broke into his trailer, killed his white German Shepherd with a pellet gun and stole everything in the place. I stuck to my theory in spite of that (he wasn't home, Albuquerque is a cesspool, our retired neighbors are outside all day and crime on the block is way down), but he wasn't having it.

Now here's what's interesting about his little dog story. It's. Not. True. I told the boys about it this morning and both of them were stunned by the length and breadth of the lie. He never lived in a trailer in Albq, and he never owned any such dog. The boys had a white Shepherd when they were kids in Texas, living with their mom, but he never did. And all his years in Albq, he lived in a motel that was essentially a concrete fortress. Bruder had a room there for a while to run his business out of, just because it was so impossible to break into.

So this is what we've come to. He's making up dead dogs to try to scare me into thinking someone will kill MY dog, so he can have his way about something that doesn't matter.
little_tristan: (Home)
The arch-nemesis actually set an alarm so he could get up at five this morning and catch the boys before work to tell them to move Mom's van off the lawn, since the mowers are coming today. There are a lot of reasons that this turned into a screaming match in just a matter of seconds. First, he opened with, "You know only white trash keep cars on their front lawn." This isn't the insult you might take it for, as he has actually called me white trash to my face, while telling me we have the worst house on the street. And this is when there was an actual crack house directly across from us. So relatively speaking, today's shot was a minor one.

But the real reason he got yelled at is that it's his fault. Our driveway could actually hold four cars and have all of them be accessible if they were arranged correctly. We used to do it, even when there were only three vehicles, because the fewer there are, the better it worked. But one day the boys went out separately, one taking the van and one the truck, and he went out and moved his car to the exact center of the driveway, which is technically the best spot. The spot you'd use if there was only one car. The spot that no one got to park in with our configuration, because the center had to be open. He's held that spot ever since, and there's been nothing we can do about it, short of moving his car. Which we've done, btw. He just puts it back. So not only can we not fit Mom's minivan in the drive, we have to park our Econoline with two wheels in the grass and then back it onto the sidewalk to lower the lift, because, you know, his car blocks it. (We can't park on the other side of his car because that side of the driveway is gravel and the current lift won't work on uneven ground.)

So he's bitching at us over something that's his fault. And his solution is to park the minivan in the back yard, instead. Because it's okay so long as no one can see it. (Remember the junk yard in the videos? We never wanted that, either.) I'm against the backyard because there are too many hazards. Little things that the mowers could pick up and throw at it. It'd also take up most of the dog's exercise space. But the best part is that it doesn't start anyway. No one could legally drive it until the estate reached a point that wasn't reached until last week, so it's just been sitting. The battery went flat and we jumped it once, to move it out of the driveway so the landscapers could back their truck up to the gate, and now it won't hold a charge. (I also have to mention that even when it was in the driveway, he was bitching and whining at me to put it in the backyard because it blocked his view of the kids walking home from the high school. Considering that he was watching while standing in front of a totally uncovered window in just his boxers, I didn't have a problem with that. Presumably the kids didn't, either.)

Anyway, it needs a new battery, which isn't as easy as it sounds because there are some after-market electrical modifications crouching on top of it and we haven't figured out how to get it out of there yet, but it's somewhere on our to-do list. Just because driving and keeping it in shape is the right thing to do, not because I'm going to pull a parking space out of my ass and save him, the fat hairy guy in the window in his underwear, blaring the musak versions of the greatest hits of the 1940s, from the accusation of being white trash.

But the real showdown? Will be in a few hours when he comes and says these things to me, and I respond with all the arguments I've written here. I saw Kay on Wednesday. She says we need to set boundaries for him. No better place to start than with things that are none of his business, like where I park my mommy's van, and what I do with my lawn.

And, if he pushes me, we're going to talk puppy, too.
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
The new chair is here! It's exciting, but tempered with my usual hatred of change. In many ways, it's exactly the same as my old one. The body styling and color and all. But the seat was made by someone else so I could have the tilt and recline, and the electronics are totally different. The toggle switch is gone, so no more quick flips up and down to change modes, but also no more hitting the switch with the side of my hand and turning it off by accident when I hit a bump in the road. And no more speed knob. It's all push button now, and there's a separate box mounted on a long arm in front to tell me what mode it's in. I anticipate dozens of nosy, ignorant people asking me what it is, and I fully intend to tell them it's a micro-computer that allows me to update my FaceBook from the main control box. I'd bet any money that the majority of them will believe me.

The recline is really cool, but it has a decided drawback in that when I ask it to tilt or recline, it seems to have to go a certain distance before stopping. I can't give it a flick and move half an inch. Even the slightest touch makes it go two or three inches, and then I can't double back and undo it because it will go just as far in reverse. And worse than that, it will tilt back, and then it will only tilt forward again. I can't tilt partway back and then decide to go farther without going forward first. That just seems like a crap design to me. I'm also wondering why it reduces speed at random moments. It has five lights to tell me how fast it's set to go, and of course I want all five lit. But after I turn it off and back on, or just sit for a while, when I look it's on three or four. I suspect it doesn't trust me.

It also doesn't have push handles, which will make it hard to push should it be necessary, and worse, there's no place to hang anything! I swear, it's like they're not thinking at all. But at least my Kindle bag fits on the armrest. That's a break. And the headrest is a different design, so it doesn't have that pokey bar sticking out that, on my other chair, reduced the windowsill in my bathroom to splinters. (Seriously. Powered wheelchairs: Devaluing your home a little more each day!)

Anyway, there's always a breaking in period where the chair and I get used to each other. You can't really tell anything the first day. Except that it's easier to transfer in and out of, harder to wash my hands at the bathroom sink, and I still think that for 30K, it should be able to carry a shopping bag.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Sod Off)
That when you install a new version of Semagic it transfers everything from the LJ server, like tags and icons, but nothing from Semagic itself? Like locations, friends' birthdays, and, you know, saved entries? Good thing no one's holding their breath for that review of A Short History of a Prince, because I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be rewriting it.

But seriously, a little warning would've gone a long way.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Sod Off)
It actually makes the opossum thing look pretty good, I think. The story goes back years and years, to when I went to a state agency that helps disabled people find jobs. They gave me a caseworker, D, who got me the interview that led to my only "real" job. We stayed in touch until D moved to the other side of the state. Then I kind of forgot about him until two or three years ago, when he moved into a house up the street and a couple blocks over from me. I ran into him once and decided not to walk down that street anymore. Then, a couple days ago, I ran into him again on a street that I always use, since it has the best curb cuts. We talked for a bit and, since I'm an inherently honest (read: stupid) person, I gave him my real phone number when he asked. Because, you know, old friend.
Click here to find out how stupid I really am... )
little_tristan: (Ranger)
This is the spastic, bi-polar way in which my life progresses. The Arizona Ranger has been behaving questionably the last week or so, licking her bum more than usual, a little scooting on the lawn (she's long since learned there's no point in doing it on wood floors), and yesterday she refused to hold a steady sit during her drills. That was the big tip-off. We've seen that before. So this morning I shut Willow R. Puppenstuff in her crate and walked Ray over to the vet, where they confirmed our worst fears. The fistula we thought we had beat last summer is back. Dr. S laid out the plan of attack she wanted to use, which I could start right away since I still have a box of the so-expensive-they-can't-keep-it-on-hand drug left from last year. She gave me some more pills, stuff to make Ray process the heavy drug more effectively and stuff to keep her body from making it worse, but I came home convinced it was hopeless. Herr told me last night that if it was that thing again, there'd be nothing for it. We just can't shell out three grand a year to keep the dog's asshole from rotting. But I figured there was no harm in using up the old (but not expired--I checked) medication, and a couple generic scripts wouldn't break us.

Then I got home and he called to ask how it went. I told him it was that thing again--not nearly as bad as before because we caught it right off--but it needs to be treated in the same way. And he said, and this is a verbatim quote, "Okay." I said, "Really?" And he said, "Really. Okay." So the journey begins again. Weekly checkups, a handful of pills twice a day, and this time when the thing clears up, prednisone every other day for the rest of her life. That's new, too. There's always been a family policy against maintaining chronically ill pets indefinitely. But she's still young and happy and has a lot left to do, which was never the case with the others.

Or maybe everyone's just had enough saying goodbye this year. I know I have.
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray in Shock)
Only not to Canby, 30 miles away. If we go, it'll be in search of an entirely new business venture, and we'll end up in either the middle of California, or Detroit. Guess which one I'm hoping for. If you guessed staying here, you win the kwepie doll.

But, in all fairness, I'm thinking it over and making a list:

Pros (or neutrals)

♥ Our house kind of sucks, so chance for a new one!
♥ New church, where there's no vindictive ex-friend to tell the entire congregation that I had an affair with her husband.
♥ Possible new job that Herr will like, where he can work reasonable hours and make a decent living doing something he loves.
♥ Most of my friends are online, so they'll go with me
♥ California would put me closer to favorite uncle and one cousin
♥ California weather would be neat
♥ Detroit weather might kill arch-nemesis
♥ Detroit is closer to my one true [ profile] catyah, and possibly within vacationing distance of DC. (Not that we ever take vacations, but still...)
♥ At least I don't have to leave Mom.
♥ Might lead to finally cleaning out attic and basement.


♠ Probably can't sell our sucky house
♠ No vet, mechanic, pill-pushing doctor, or legal pot connection
♠ Can't travel, so I'll never see my local friends or family (dying sister, awesome cousin, oldest friend) again.
♠ Likewise parents' graves
♠ Lose custom-built library
♠ If the boys die, I'll be stuck there far away from everything I know
♠ Detroit weather might kill me
♠ Would have to drive to new location--very long trip in the van with no sightseeing stops
♠ Murphy Sloane and Roy DeSoto don't take moving well. If Ranger gets lost, she might not be able to find her way home.
♠ Bruder always gets bored partway through packing and just sends half my stuff to the dump.
♠ Can't finish settling Mom's estate from a distance--need my lawyer and accesses to Polk County Court.
♠ Lose awesome accountant.
♠ I was born here and this is where I belong.
♠ Might turn into one of those douchebags who constantly compares her home state to the new one with the new one always coming in a poor second, pissing off the locals until they all hate me. Especially in Detroit.
♠ Have to find a new company to rip me off on wheelchairs. (Assuming Herr's new job has insurance.)
little_tristan: (Ranger)
Yesterday the arch-nemesis put Ranger outside. I don't know how long it was before I noticed. Half an hour, maybe. When I brought her back in, she was sick. She'd eaten some crap off the ground and threw up all over the house for an hour. Then, last night, she ate all her supper, and woke up in the morning feeling perky. Finally, an occasion where the worst possible thing didn't happen.

Just thought I'd pass it along.:)
little_tristan: (Books)
What fictional character are you (secretly) in love with?

Lewellyn Moss from No Country for Old Men. And that was before I even saw the movie.:)
little_tristan: (Catloaf Blue-Eyed Kitten)
I'm tempted to generalize and say that this is everyone's experience, that it will happen to all of you, too, but I won't. It might not be true, and even if it is, many of you won't believe me until it happens, and in the meantime, you'll be pissed at me. So I'm going to try to limit it to my own experience, YMMV, and try not to come off like I think I'm somehow older and wiser than everyone else. If I do anyway, I'm sorry.
Long-ass ramble behind the cut )
little_tristan: (Kitten Interwebs)
It's not easy. LJ is basically fandom for me, and fandom is harder than it needs to be, what with everyone having their own perceptions and all. I do wish people would stop being different from me. I've tried not being different from them, but that didn't work, so now it's their turn. Yes, I know. I'm being unreasonable again. Oh, fandom and logic. When will you meet?

I'm watching The Young Riders, which was one of my favorite shows 20 years ago. I think they intended for Ty Miller's character, The Kid, to be the star. But he's such an incredible tool, he makes me insane. Even when it was first on, I waited through every episode for someone to shoot him or beat him to death or something, but it never happened. And he got the girl in the end. She was worth ten of him, but that seems to be how it goes. Anyway, it was totally Josh Brolin's show and they should have realized it. I'm terribly grateful to the Coen brothers for giving him a movie career in the new century, while Ty Miller languishes, forgotten and unloved.

My novel is on hold for the moment while my soul is consumed by a big long fic that keeps getting bigger and longer. It's the first Riptide that I've been really passionate about in months. (Maybe because it's also populated with fun Emergency characters.) Lately I've felt like I was just going through the motions and I think it showed. I don't care about comments so long as I know I did my best, and that feeling's been missing for too long. So when I'm not reading entries, not posting, not commenting, not answering email or reviewing books, it's because I'm writing. Fabulous crossover fic of win just owns me right now. In fact, it may turn into a little series, just to keep this one from getting entirely out of hand.

But for those concerned *cough[ profile] oddmonstercough*, I am 91% of the way through Les Miserables and will be done by tomorrow. Even if it means Johnny has to keep his pants on tonight. (Yes, I will forego writing porn to keep a commitment to you. My love is that strong.)

I'm sleeping again. We may have solved the problem of pain. It takes a few days to see if it's real, because my body tends to adapt to change and then go back to hurting, so it's kind of like trying to kill Borg. What's funny is that we did it this time with the careful placement of a variety of pillows which I already owned. One more might be needed, I'm waiting to see if the subtle knee stress completely screws that bad tendon, but if it does, I'm prepared. One of the little pillows that came with the van would be perfect. I hope we never have to travel. It now takes six pillows to put me to bed (maybe seven, depending on that knee), and three of them can't be substituted with standard hotel issue. I sure love home.
little_tristan: (Riptide Murray in Shock)
Writing crossovers is hard. I'm not even sure I know how to occupy the head-space of so many people at the same time. Or have so many different people in my head. Oh, the voices. The voices.

Luckily, the voices like cookies, and today I haz some. Thin Mints are my strength. With their help, I will overcome.


little_tristan: (Default)

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