...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

Grr.

Too fucking hot. Woke up this morning feeling like I was being suffocated. Bastard summer.

New DVD player arrived. Have yet to try it out, though. Will do so in the evening when lounge is not a killer suntrap.

Started clean-up from last night, but realised halfway through that I couldn't be bothered. Don't really need that cutlery anyway.

Best thing about cooking a roast beef dinner for four? Eating the left-overs. Horseradish sauce + gravy makes everything taste better. Plus, no cooking for me tonight. Woo!

Cinema tomorrow with Alan, Jess and James, providing we can agree on what to watch. Jess and James want to see 13 Going On 30. Have threatened to jump off balcony if they make me see anything with Jennifer Garner. Some people cannot appreciate the trauma of being forced to sit through the Daredevil movie - Jennifer Garner + Ben Affleck = a pain not even Colin Farrel can soothe.

Summer is here again, and once more I am forced to abandon my long-sleeved velvet shirts and put aside my trenchcoat, take a deep, calming breathe and liberate my collection of frayed and faded vest-tops from their banishment at the bottom of the airing cupboard. The onset of warmer weather, even in Yorkshire, requires certain fundemental changes. Sunscreen, for a start. A reduction of leather-wearing. And apparently, of body hair.

Never mind that I think shaven armpits look weird (and I'm not even going to start on how unnatural a pale, puffy, protectionless vagina looks). What relevance is it that shaving my pits leaves them itchy and sweaty, not to mention unbearably prickly once the regrowth kicks in? None whatsoever. Because you see, those soft tufts of curly blonde hair under my arms apparently make other people uncomfortable, and after all, isn't it my job to make sure I'm as pleasing as possible to the eyes of complete strangers? God forbid I should make my own decisions about what I am or am not comfortable with. That would imply I had a mind of my own! Apparently, I missed the memo that states that female underarm hair is now completely forbidden (probably becuase it was published in Heat or some equally shitty women's magazine). Silly me for thinking, hey, this is my body, and as such I have complete autonomy over what happens to it. I won't be making that mistake again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a razor. And the next person who dares to tell me what I can and can't do with my fucking armpits is going to get their throat slit with it.

Oooh! Lupin and Sirius day today. Feeeeel their canonical love.

In other news... I have no other news. Still haven't finished packing. Still too hot. Also sleepy.

Watched 'Cambridge Spies' last night - Sam West's bizarre conversation about socks is made even stranger by the fact that it takes place while he's in bed with another man.

My City Drive tat arrived today - obligatory band t-shirt and some cute little badges. Also included was a signed picture of the band, which is spiffy and stuck on the wall next to my autographed Tom Felton photo.

Today is the second day of Hexmas, known as Blakeneyday. To celebrate, Hex has given me a new icon to wear. Huzzah!

It's far too hot here. I have my feet in a bucket of iced water. Fucking summer.