In a thread over at f_w someone says "I hope to confuse all my family members when I'm old and senile by randomly rehashing famous wanks" to which comes the response
*applies Fixodent, puts dentures in mouth*
"My teeth are PASTEDE ON YAY"
I mean, these days it's all implants, but the thought is there.
Finished the Willey last night. Not sure why it made me a bit scratchy and irritable when done. Or maybe that was the many crises at work? God this week has been a week. Willey's books are like drinking: you see neat stuff while doing it but the afterwards can be iffy. Part of the afterwards was a convoluted dream that included a starting-out lawyer and the mildly psychotic homeless man who was his client, who kept coming to the lawyer's house to discuss his case, armed with new drafts and things he'd written. Or maybe that was work as well- oh god not *again*.
Maybe it's just because Willey never explained what a ley is. Or because my tax refund still hasn't arrived while everyone else got theirs ages ago, *and* their first GST rebate, which suggests the PO lost my return and I shall shortly be met with indignant letters from the tax office demanding that I file or face penalties. Oh woe.