I missed National Coming Out Day, didn't I? Oh well. If I'd told my parents I kissed a boy they might've died of shock anyway.
My computer has been shipped off to IBM to get fixed, which means that in another week or two I'll be online with some degree of regularity. Wheeee. This also means I'll become a file-trading h0r again--be afraid. Be very afraid. Especially if you have foreign Les Mis recordings. And speaking of Les Mis recordings...
I really wish half the cast of the CSR didn't suck, but I think I like Quast's rendition of Javert's suicide on this one even better than on the TAC. Also? Waaaaaaaaarlooooooowwwww. I've been listening to the barricade parts repeatedly, and I think I'll continue to do so until I either get sick of Anthony Warlow's "let others riiiiise," or I snap into complete emotional breakdown from listening to a twelve-year-old get shot over and over. The second one will probably happen first. They'll have to pack me off to a mental institution where I'll sit in the corner rocking back and forth and chanting "So you better run for cover when the pup--grows--BANG." And it'll be Anthony Warlow's fault, all his fault. (Or mine, for not skipping that track, but you know.)
Also: being halfway through Notre-Dame de Paris when your mother decides to drag you off to the National Cathedral to hear them ringing the peal bells? That is fun.
My computer has been shipped off to IBM to get fixed, which means that in another week or two I'll be online with some degree of regularity. Wheeee. This also means I'll become a file-trading h0r again--be afraid. Be very afraid. Especially if you have foreign Les Mis recordings. And speaking of Les Mis recordings...
I really wish half the cast of the CSR didn't suck, but I think I like Quast's rendition of Javert's suicide on this one even better than on the TAC. Also? Waaaaaaaaarlooooooowwwww. I've been listening to the barricade parts repeatedly, and I think I'll continue to do so until I either get sick of Anthony Warlow's "let others riiiiise," or I snap into complete emotional breakdown from listening to a twelve-year-old get shot over and over. The second one will probably happen first. They'll have to pack me off to a mental institution where I'll sit in the corner rocking back and forth and chanting "So you better run for cover when the pup--grows--BANG." And it'll be Anthony Warlow's fault, all his fault. (Or mine, for not skipping that track, but you know.)
Also: being halfway through Notre-Dame de Paris when your mother decides to drag you off to the National Cathedral to hear them ringing the peal bells? That is fun.
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