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

Finished reading Wicked. Cried and cried for Elphaba being so convinced that the Scarecrow was Fiyero, alive and returning to her. Will not, will not rush directly to Amazon and buy everything that comes up on a search for "Gregory Maguire". Have far more self-control than that.

On more upbeat note, recieved a box of rubber bricks in the post from Johnny today. No, I don't get it either. He is a strange, strange boy. Best part was note included with box:

"Watching Black Books 3. Am awash in sea of gay. It deep-cleanses my pores and tightens my asscheeks."

O_o

Erik doing the Fist of Raw Emotion destroys me.

I swear to God, I will never, ever take the piss out of Gerry Butler's singing again.

In other news, I finished reading Cornelia Funke's "Dragon Rider" last night, and I have only two words to say on the matter.

Robot. Dragon.

Yeah, seriously. Even if the rest of the book had been total rubbish (which it wasn't, fear not), the fact that it features a robot dragon would more than make up for it.

Am now reading Gregory Maguire's "Wicked" and wrestling the urge to run out and buy "Mirror, Mirror" and "Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister". No robot dragons so far, but does contain an object lesson on why you shouldn't have sex with tigers who wear thigh-high boots and hang around in strip clubs. Which, uh... is good to know, I guess?

Hee... robot dragons.